Gerda took Olina by the arm and drew her toward the porch. Flower beds spread in front, and young plants were beginning to bud. There were even a few rose bushes. Olina had always loved the smell of roses. She doubted that she would be here when the buds opened enough to share their delightful fragrance.
“Mor has just left to take dinner to Far and the hired men, but she left food in case you got here before she returned. She wanted to be here when you arrived, but the men have to be fed. I was glad she let me stay at the house and wait for you.” Gerda opened the door that led into the formal parlor.
Gustaf followed them in, carrying Olina’s smaller bag.
Olina liked the furniture, upholstered in wine-colored velvet. It was different from what she was used to in Sweden, but it was attractive. A thick carpet spread to within a foot of each wall. Even Tant Olga’s house didn’t have carpet. Everything matched so well, not like the hodgepodge of furniture her family had collected over the years. Lace curtains and doilies knitted the decor together. Mor would love to see this beautiful place.
“What room do you want Olina to have?” Gustaf was heading toward the hall that was behind the parlor.
“I wanted her to share mine, so we could really catch up.” Gerda glanced at Olina before she continued, “But Mor said we should give her the bedroom on the front corner. That way she can have her privacy, but we’ll still spend time together when we want to.”
Gustaf nodded and ducked through the doorway. In the hallway outside the parlor was the stairway. He climbed up the steep stairs as if they were level ground. Olina followed him at a slower pace.
“When you’ve freshened up, come down to eat.” Gerda stood looking up after her friend. “I put fresh water in your room.”
❧
Olina met Gustaf as he came from the bedroom that would be hers. His presence made the narrow hall feel even narrower. Olina needed to have more room between them. Why did his presence unsettle her? He was like all the other men in her life. He didn’t want her, but she felt drawn to him even though she wanted to push him away. She felt as if the dark hall did not have enough air. She was having a hard time taking a breath.
“I can wait to bring up your trunks.” Gustaf looked down at her. “That way you’ll have plenty of time to freshen up.”
“What I really need”—Olina moved toward the beckoning doorway—“is a long, soaking bath. It feels as though it’s been a lifetime since we were in New York.”
“Wouldn’t you like to eat first?”
Olina slowly nodded.
Gustaf pointed to another door halfway down the hallway. “That’s the bathroom. We have a large tub in there. A man from Norway invented an automatic storage water heater a few years ago, and we’ve just installed one, so we don’t have to carry hot water upstairs for the bathtub.”
Again Olina nodded. Then she stepped into the bedroom that would be hers for awhile. How long, she could only guess. She was going to have to make some decisions, but she didn’t want to think about them right now. She pulled out her hat pin and removed her hat. Dropping her hat on the table by the bed, she walked over and looked out the window that faced the front of the house. There was another window on the side of the house, and a gentle breeze blew through the room. More lace curtains covered these windows, and matching lace draped across the bed. How inviting that bed looked. Maybe she should lie down and forget everything. But she couldn’t. It was there in her heart. . .in her mind. . .in every part of her.
After picking up the pitcher of water, she poured some into the matching bowl. Both of them were decorated with hand-painted roses. As she splashed the water on her face, its coolness soothed her. Gerda must have filled the pitcher right before they arrived.
Taking off the jacket of her traveling suit, she looked down at her wilted, dusty white waist. It didn’t matter. Gerda and Gustaf had already seen it. She decided not to change until after her bath. Olina picked up the rose-scented soap and washed her hands. She dried her face and hands with the embroidered linen towel that lay on the washstand beside the pitcher and bowl. How was she ever going to get through the evening? She crossed the hardwood floor and descended the stairs, trying to rein in her emotions.
Gerda and Gustaf kept the conversation light and informative as they all ate homemade bread and ham, accompanied by applesauce that Gerda and her mother canned last autumn. Olina learned a lot about the farm, the neighbors, and the many activities that occurred in the close-knit community. Although they were a ways from town, many of the neighbors were from Norway or Sweden, and they often got together. Women visited over tea or held quilting bees as well as other bees. They had helped Merta Swenson make her linens before her marriage. It sounded like a lot of fun, but Olina wondered if she would ever have fun again. Men helped each other harvest crops, build barns, or mend broken farming equipment. But no one could help fix her broken heart.
They had even established a school close by. The school building was also used to hold church services when the weather was too bad to get into town. Olina would have loved getting married here and establishing her family in this community. Now there would not be any family. At least not for Olina and Lars.
And who else was there? Unbidden, a face swam into Olina’s mind. A face so like Lars, only more mature. A face with icy blue eyes, but she had seen those eyes warm when he had looked at his sister. Why was she thinking about Gustaf? He was nothing to her. Nothing but her best friend’s brother.
Olina needed to make a decision. What was she going to do? What could she do? She had very little money. Not enough to go back to Sweden. The only thing she could do was write her father and beg his forgiveness for going against his wishes. If he forgave her, maybe he would send her the money to come home. That is, if he had enough money to send.
Olina was soaking in a tub of warm water when she heard Mrs. Nilsson return. The sound of voices rumbled below her, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She did recognize their voices as both Gerda and Gustaf talked to their mother. Was their conversation about her? Soon the talking ceased, and Olina heard Gerda and Gustaf leave the house.
Tears streamed down Olina’s face and plopped in the cooling bath water. She felt chilled, inside and out. She got out of the bathtub and pulled the plug. As the water gurgled down the drain, Olina dried off and put on fresh clothes. At least she felt better being clean again. Tonight, when she was once more alone in her room, she would write her father a letter.
❧
Mrs. Nilsson was waiting in the kitchen for Olina when she came down the stairs. She opened her arms and gathered Olina close.
“My precious child.” There was a catch in her voice. “I’m sorry that my son treated you so wrong.” By the end of the second sentence, both Olina and Mrs. Nilsson were crying.
Olina quickly regained her composure and pulled out of the embrace. She reached for the handkerchief she had earlier stuffed into her sleeve. After wiping her face, she turned toward the woman she once thought would be her mother-in-law.
Mrs. Nilsson was also wiping tears from her cheeks. “Since we received the letter, I have asked myself if I did something wrong when I was rearing Lars. How could my son have done something so irresponsible and hurtful?”
“For sure, it’s not your fault that this has happened,” Olina said. “But I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”
Mrs. Nilsson pulled a chair out from the table for Olina. “After supper tonight, we’ll have a talk with Bennel. He’ll know what we should do.”
❧
Evidently Gustaf had gone out to help Mr. Nilsson in the fields, because they both came in for the evening meal at the same time. Mr. Nilsson didn’t say anything about Lars to Olina before they ate, but when the meal was over, he asked Olina and Mrs. Nilsson to accompany him into the parlor. Gustaf followed them. Evidently his fader didn’t mind, because he didn’t tell him to go away.
Mr. Nilsson indicated that Olina should sit on the sofa beside hi
s wife. Mrs. Nilsson took Olina’s hand and squeezed it. Olina knew she was trying to make Olina relax, but she couldn’t. Maybe it was because of what her fader had done to her. Mr. Nilsson felt too much like her fader. The stern expression on his face caused her to be nervous.
“First, Olina, I want to apologize to you for what my son did. I can imagine that you are extremely hurt.”
Olina could tell that he meant what he said. She nodded.
The expression on Mr. Nilsson’s face softened. “I can never make up for what Lars did, but I want you to know that we love you as if you were our own daughter. You have a home here as long as you want one.”
“Thank you.” It was hard for Olina to get the words out because her throat was dry.
“We’ll do anything we can to help you.” Mr. Nilsson got up from the chair where he was sitting and stood beside his wife, placing his hand on her shoulder. “While you are in our home, we hope you’ll think of us as your parents.”
Olina bowed her head a moment before she raised it and answered. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
Mrs. Nilsson patted Olina’s hand, which rested on the sofa between them. “Do you have any plans for now?”
“Well, I don’t have the money to go back to Sweden.” Olina tried to swallow the lump that had come in her throat. “I plan to write Fader a letter tonight, asking him to help me come home.” Olina couldn’t tell them what her father had said before she left Sweden. She hoped she never would have to tell anyone.
Gustaf didn’t say anything while this conversation was going on, but Olina could feel his gaze on her. She glanced and caught an expression on his face that she had never seen before. It made her feel as if he cared what happened to her, not at all like the man in New York City who called her a mess.
Six
Olina wondered how long she would have to wait for an answer to her letter. Knowing it would take a long time, she tried to hide her hurt from the members of the Nilsson family. She thought she was doing it quite well. However, after only a few of days, Gerda came to her room a little while before supper.
“Olina.” Gerda sat on the side of Olina’s bed and watched her friend as she fussed with her hair. “I haven’t wanted to pry. I wanted to wait until you shared with me, but you haven’t.” Gerda got up and went to stand behind Olina, looking directly into the reflection of her face in the mirror. “It’s hard for me to watch you hurting so badly. We’ve been friends a long time. Can’t you let me help you?”
Olina turned from the mirror and walked over to the window. She pulled back the curtain that gently blew in the breeze, trying to find something to fix her gaze on. Although her focus wandered from the birds in the trees, to the open barn door, to the sparkle of water barely visible beyond the roof of the barn, none of these things interested her. She paused a minute before answering, trying to decide how much to tell Gerda. Then she turned to face her dear friend.
“Oh, Gerda.” A shuddering breath shook her frame. “I haven’t known what to say. . .or if I could say anything without crying.” The sentence ended with a soft sob.
Gerda pulled Olina into her arms and hugged her, gently rubbing her back as she broke into sobs muffled against Gerda’s soft calico dress. The soothing touch brought comfort to Olina. It had been too long since someone who loved her had held her. She missed her mother’s touch. Tant Olga had hugged her occasionally, too.
When Olina stopped crying, she pulled away and swiped, with both hands, at the tears on her face. Gerda picked up a soft white handkerchief and helped Olina mop away the moisture that had completely covered her face and soaked the shoulder of Gerda’s dress.
“Oh my, I must look a fright.” Olina turned toward the oval mirror on the wall. “My face is all puffy and red.” She patted some hairs into place before turning back toward Gerda. “I don’t think I’ll have any supper tonight. I’m not really hungry.” She didn’t want anyone else in the family to see her like this.
Gerda gazed deep into her eyes before turning toward the door. “I know you helped feed the chickens and gather the eggs. And you insisted on hanging the clothes on the line for Mother. That’s enough to work up an appetite. I’ll make both of us sandwiches out of cold roast beef and cheese. We’ll grab an apple apiece and go down to the creek for a picnic supper.”
Olina had no answer for her, except to nod. After Gerda left, Olina glanced down at her white blouse that had become soiled when she was gathering the eggs. While Gerda went down to fix their supper, she changed into a soft green calico. Looking at the white collar and cuffs trimmed with lace that she usually wore with the dress, she decided to leave them off. She was glad that she had plaited her hair and wound it around her head that morning. It was suitable for a picnic on the banks of a stream.
After tramping down the fencerow of a large field, the two girls ambled out across a pasture toward the grove of trees that lined the banks of the stream. Each girl carried her supper in a small tin lard bucket. Gerda told her that they were the ones the Nilsson children had used when they were younger to carry their lunches to school. It made Olina feel young and almost carefree. But not completely. She could not bury her hurt that deep.
The day had been warm for late spring, and it was a long walk. Both girls began to perspire before they entered the cool shadows of the trees. Taking a well-worn path through the underbrush, they soon arrived at the bank of the flowing water. A small sandbar led from the verdant growth to the stream, and a few large stones jutted out into the water. One even formed a flat shelf above the flow.
Gerda walked out on the stone shelf that was still warm from the sun, although it was now shaded from the branches of the trees that hung over it. Olina followed her, watching bubbles and gurgles burst from the water as it swirled around the rocks. Gerda sat cross-legged on the rock and arranged her skirt to cover her legs. Then she put her lard bucket in her lap. After prying off the lid with a stick she had picked up as they walked through the woods, Gerda pulled out a sandwich wrapped in paper.
Olina did the same. Before she laid her sandwich on the full skirt that spread around her on the rock, she took a bite. It tasted heavenly. Olina hadn’t realized how hungry she really was. After taking another bite, she looked back into the bucket. It contained more than just an apple. She pulled out another lump of paper and unrolled a sweet pickle. When Olina sank her teeth into it, pickle juice dripped down her chin. She reached up with her free hand, trying to catch it before it stained her dress.
“This tastes good.” Olina wiped her mouth on a napkin that was also in her bucket.
“Mother and I made those last summer.” Gerda unwrapped her own pickle. “It’s a recipe Anna Jenson gave us. We all like it, especially Gustaf.” Gerda took a bite of her sandwich. After she finished chewing it, she said, “Of course, Gustaf likes everything Anna makes.”
Olina looked up. “Is she a wonderful cook?” She didn’t know why she was so interested, but she was.
“Oh, she’s a good cook,” Gerda answered, “but I think Gustaf would like it even if it wasn’t that good. He likes everything about Anna. The whole family expects them to marry sometime soon.”
Olina didn’t know why that should bother her, but it did. She looked up at Gerda, who was now digging other packages out of her bucket. “Why did you say that?”
Gerda looked up. “Say what?”
“That the family expects them to marry. Has he asked her to marry him?”
Gerda went back to unwrapping her supper. “I don’t think so. She would have told us. . .or he would have. They’re together a lot. I think he’s calling on her.”
Olina nodded even though Gerda wasn’t looking. She took a bite of the sandwich again, and what had tasted heavenly a few minutes ago now turned to sand in her mouth, making her throat dry. She looked around for something to dip the water with.
Gerda dipped her empty bucket into the cool, moving water and handed it to Olina. “Drink this. You look as though you need it right now.”
>
Olina turned the bucket up and gulped the soothing water, dripping some down the front of her dress. Then she emptied her own bucket of food and handed it to Gerda. “Here you can use mine.”
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence by the two girls. Olina tried to force the food past the large lump in her throat. At any other time, the sandwich, pickle, chocolate cake, and apple would have tasted good. But not tonight. They were only so much sawdust to chew and wash down with lots of water. She was glad when all the packages were empty. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Gerda by not finishing what she had fixed for them.
When Gerda was through with her food, she pulled off her shoes and stockings and dangled her feet into the water. “Are you ever going to talk to me? I know Lars hurt you, and I know that Gustaf didn’t tell you about it as soon as he should have. But I thought we were best friends. I want to help you if I can.”
Olina followed Gerda’s lead and soon splashed her feet in the refreshing stream. As they sat there, Olina did reveal part of her heart to her friend. They discussed Lars and how he had hurt her and how Gustaf had treated her in New York City and on the trip to Minnesota. But Olina couldn’t tell her friend about her own father rejecting her. Or that she no longer felt she could trust God.
❧
Since it was such a warm spring day, Gustaf soon worked up a sweat. He loaded the wagon full of hay and took it to the pasture where the dairy cattle were kept. There he scattered the hay into four piles in different parts of the pasture, helping supplement the meager grass. Then he plowed the only field that hadn’t been done before he went to New York. All the time he was following the horses pulling the large implement, he thought about that fateful journey, his anger on the trip there, and his confusion on the journey back.
It wasn’t long before his thoughts settled on Olina. He would never be able to remove some images from his memory. Olina as she stood on the dock waiting for Lars. Olina at dinner at the hotel. Olina in the hall of the hotel when he had blurted out the truth about Lars. How different Olina was the next morning. She had strength and poise.
Other Brother Page 4
