As they drove along, Anna kept up a steady stream of chatter. Gustaf wasn’t sure what she was talking about because he was trying to think how to say what he needed to say with the least amount of hurt. He hoped his occasional comments of yes, right, and interesting were appropriate and at the right time.
When they were still about a mile from the Jenson farmhouse, Anna broke through his thoughts. “All right, Gustaf.” Her voice was louder and harsher than it had been on the rest of the trip. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Gustaf pulled the team off the road and parked under a tree. He tied the reins to the front of the buggy and sat there a minute. Then he turned to look at Anna in the dark shadows. Her luminous eyes sparkled through the darkness. “What makes you think something’s the matter?” It was a stupid question. They had spent enough time together for her to read his moods.
“I’ve been carrying on a one-sided conversation all the way home. You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said.” Anna sat with her arms crossed defiantly across her chest.
Gustaf wanted to deny her allegation, but then thought better of it. “You’re right. My thoughts have been engaged otherwise.”
“And who has engaged your thoughts?”
Gustaf was amazed that her question had cut straight to the root of the problem, but he didn’t want to tell her that right now.
Sensing his hesitation, Anna continued, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Anna.” Gustaf tried to take her hand in his, but she pulled stiffly to the far end of the buggy seat. He was afraid if he reached for her again, she might tumble off into the dirt. He didn’t want that.
“I’ve been thinking about our relationship.” Gustaf stopped and cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the large lump that had taken up residence there.
“And?” Anna wasn’t going to make this any easier.
“And. . .” Gustaf tried again. “And I think. . .maybe. . .we shouldn’t spend so much time together.”
“Is there someone else?” Anna’s bitter question surprised Gustaf.
“What kind of man do you think I am?” he asked in anger.
“I don’t know what kind of man you are.” Anna shivered, but she pulled even farther away from him, if that was possible. “I thought—” Anna stopped to swallow a sob. “I thought we had something. You’ve been calling on me for some time now.”
An owl hooted in a nearby tree, and the wind picked up, swishing the branches above their heads.
“Well. . .I have been.” That lump had grown to be a boulder. “Calling on you, I mean.” Why did this have to be so hard to say? “I’m not sure we’re supposed to be together for life.”
Even in the dark, he could see Anna glare at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her tone was harder and more brittle. “I thought you were going to ask me to marry you tonight.” Anna ended on a sob, and Gustaf could see the tears glistening on her cheeks, making trails that she didn’t wipe off.
It felt as if there were a dagger in his heart. He reached out to her, but hesitated when he saw her expression. Gustaf pulled his big white handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her, knowing she wouldn’t want him touching her right now. As she mopped her tears away, they were replaced by others.
“I know that’s what you thought, and that makes this even harder.” Gustaf tried to sound gentle, but he didn’t. The words sounded harsh to his own ears. “You’re important to me, but I know I don’t love you the way you should be loved by your future husband. You deserve better than that. Can’t we remain friends?”
“And are we friends right now?” Anna’s question was forced from between stiff lips. “Is friendship what we have had all this time? Nothing more?”
Gustaf bowed his head and covered his face with both hands. Could the evening get any worse? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He wasn’t even sure Anna heard his muffled words, so he looked up, dropping his hands into his lap.
“Would you please take me home now?”
Gustaf untied the reins and clucked to the waiting horses. Ominous silence accompanied them the last mile to the farmhouse, covering them in an oppressive blanket. When the buggy stopped, Anna didn’t wait for Gustaf to help her down. Instead, she scrambled over the wheel, almost falling in her haste.
“Wait, Anna. I’ll help you.” He tried to follow her.
“Don’t bother,” she yelled back over her shoulder and ran into the house.
Gustaf hoped some day she would speak to him again.
Eight
After the party, Olina settled into life on the Minnesota farm. She gladly helped with her share of the chores. It was good for Gerda and Olina to be together again. It was as if they had never been separated. Gerda helped Olina become a part of the community, and Olina caught Gerda up on what had happened in the old country after the Nilssons left.
Before long, the two girls spent most of their evenings doing needlework as they talked. Gerda took an interest in all the fashionable clothes Olina had brought with her from Europe.
“Stand still, Olina.” Gerda walked around her friend, looking at the darts and flounces on the dark green traveling suit Olina was modeling. “I want to see how she made this.”
“I could take it off.” Olina unbuttoned the suit. “That way we could look at the seams from the inside. The jacket is lined, but the waist and skirt aren’t.” When the coat was completely removed, it revealed a soft creamy cotton waist with a lace-edged, ruffled jabot gracefully draping around Olina’s neck.
Just then, the back door burst open and Gustaf entered, followed by his brother August. Gerda and Olina watched them from the parlor.
“I tell you, Gustaf.” August raised his voice. “You’ll never get him to sell it.”
“What need does he have for a plow horse?” Gustaf sounded disgusted. “That horse will stay in his barn and pasture and never do another day’s work.” He threw his cap on the table, stomped over to the sink, and started washing his hands. “I could use another plow horse.”
August glanced through the door to the parlor and saw the two girls. “Gerda, how are you?” He rushed to his sister, picked her up and twirled her around, then set her on her feet. “It’s been a long time since I saw you.”
Gustaf followed him, drying his hands as he went. “You saw her on Sunday. It’s only Thursday. That’s not a long time.”
He stopped short when he saw Olina. She was standing between him and the window. The sun coming through the pane gave her a gilt edge, turning the soft hairs that had escaped her chignon into a golden halo. The creamy-colored blouse and dark green skirt looked like something from one of the Godey’s Lady’s Books Gerda often received. Olina took his breath away.
It had been like this ever since he talked to Anna. He had felt a freedom from his ties to her, releasing all the pent-up feelings for Olina he had been fighting before.
Sometimes the pain he glimpsed deep in her eyes, when she didn’t know anyone was looking, cut him to the quick. He knew Lars had hurt her, but Gustaf felt that there was even more hurt he didn’t know about. What could it be?
Besides, Olina didn’t ever participate in worship when they were in church. The Sandstrom family and the Nilsson family had been part of the same church in Sweden. Both families fully participated in everything together. During the services now, Olina looked as if she had been turned to stone. If only he could reach across the barriers and ease the pain in her. But how could he do that? He prayed for her every day. He tried to reach out to her in subtle ways.
“Are you men coming in for the evening?” Gerda turned from August to Gustaf.
“We thought we’d sit and talk awhile before August returns to town.” Gustaf lowered himself onto the horsehair sofa. “Do you girls want to visit with us?”
Olina looked at Gerda. “If we want to discover how the seamstress made this suit, maybe we should go up to my room.” She swept out of the parlor and up t
he stairs without waiting for an answer.
❧
When the two young women reached the bedroom, Olina stepped out of the skirt. She handed the garment to Gerda before also shedding her waist and putting on her dressing gown.
“Look at all the tucks and ruffles she made on this waist.” She knew she was hiding from Gustaf, but she didn’t like the way he unsettled her. The feelings aroused by being near him were at war with the decision she made not to trust a man again. Turning from her musings, she looked into the questioning face of Gerda. “I wonder how long it took her to finish the waist of the suit.”
This question didn’t deter Gerda. “Olina, what’s the matter?”
Olina looked away and picked up the garment she had been talking about.
“Oh, don’t worry.” Gerda stood looking into Olina’s troubled eyes. “I don’t think anyone else has noticed. But I’ve known you too long not to see that something more is wrong.”
Olina crumpled onto the side of the bed. Gerda sat beside Olina and pulled her into her arms. How could she comfort her? She didn’t even know exactly what was wrong.
“You can tell me what it is. I’ll keep your secret.” The whispered words went to Olina’s heart. “Sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Someone who knows everything. You know that nothing you could tell me would ever change the way I feel about you. We’re too good of friends for that, ja?”
Olina nodded as she raised her head from her friend’s shoulder. “I have been carrying this a long time, and it has become an unbearable burden. . . . But I don’t know where to begin.”
“Since I know about Lars”—Gerda reached up to brush back the hair that had fallen across Olina’s forehead—“why not tell me what else is bothering you?”
Olina stood and walked across the room. She stood at the window and pulled back the filmy curtains. Dusk was falling on the farm, wrapping all the buildings and trees in shadows. She stared into the shifting darkness.
“It’s hard to tell you that my own father doesn’t love me.”
Gerda’s quickly indrawn breath preceded her question. “How can you say that? Your family has always been close.”
“I thought so.” Olina looked toward the sky to see the first twinklings of starlight. “But you know that father was always stern. He’s a very controlling man.”
Gerda stood and crossed the room to stand beside her. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
Olina turned and gazed into her friend’s face. “He disowned me when I chose to come to America and marry Lars.”
Gerda stood speechless. Olina could see that she was trying to digest what she had just heard. “Disowned you? What do you mean?”
“He told me that I was no longer a part of the family. . .that I was to have no contact with anyone in my family.” She started pacing back and forth across the bedroom, before returning to stand beside the window.
“What about your mother and your brothers?” Gerda demanded.
“They could say nothing. Father was in a high temper. I think he thought I would change my mind, but I couldn’t. Lars and I were so in love.” Olina finished on a sob, dropping to the floor. She crossed her arms on the windowsill and placed her chin on her hands. “At least I was in love with him,” she wailed.
Gerda dropped beside Olina and once again held her in her arms. “Your father will change his mind.”
Olina looked up. “That’s what Tant Olga said. She said he’d change his mind when we had his grandchildren. But now that will never happen.” Olina felt completely drained. “How could God have allowed all this?”
The question hung in the air between the two young women. A question without an answer.
Gerda got up and started picking up the clothing they had dropped at various places around the room. “Olina, didn’t you write your father a letter right after you arrived?”
Olina nodded. “I told him what happened, and I asked him to send me the money to come home. I told him I would work and pay back every cent as soon as I could.”
“Well, see. Everything will be all right. He’ll send you the money.” Gerda folded the skirt and laid it across the end of the bed.
Olina stood and picked up the crumpled waist from where the two girls had sat on it. Smoothing out the wrinkles the best she could, she put it beside the skirt. “But what if he doesn’t? What will I do then?” She turned a forlorn face toward her friend.
Gerda took Olina by the shoulders. “He will. He has to.” She let go and picked up the jacket. “But if he doesn’t, you’ll stay right here.”
“I can’t stay here. I would be a burden to your family.”
“A burden? I don’t think so.” Gerda turned the jacket wrong side out. “You’ve been doing your part. Besides that, maybe we could move to town together and become seamstresses. We’re both good at making quality clothing. The only ready-made clothing at the mercantile has to be ordered from other places, and they never fit right. We could probably make a good living as seamstresses. The only way Father will let me move to town is if I have someone to live with. It would work out well for both of us.” Gerda smiled at Olina. “Besides, it won’t come to that. You’ll be going home before you know it. So let’s do all we can to learn how she made your lovely clothes. Jaha?”
Nine
When Olina came, the Nilsson family had started speaking Swedish most of the time around Olina so she would not feel left out. Olina asked Gerda to help her learn English, and Gerda was good about helping her. After the second week, she asked the whole family to speak mostly English, so she could learn it. Even if she went back to Sweden, she would be glad she knew the language. Olina was surprised how quickly she picked it up. It wasn’t easy, but when she heard it all the time, it was easier to learn. Now that she had been there nearly two months, only a few Swedish words crept into their conversations.
Gerda and Olina took each of the garments Olina had brought as part of her trousseau and studied it inside and out. They drew diagrams of how each piece was shaped and how the pieces fit together. Then they made new summer dresses from some fabric they had at the farm.
“Moder,” Gerda called out as the two girls came down the stairs carrying one of the new dresses. “Come see what we have for you.” Both girls were excited.
Mrs. Nilsson wiped her hands on her big white apron as she came from the kitchen into the hallway. “Now what could you possibly have for me? No one has been to town today.”
“We wanted to surprise you.” Olina held the dress up by the shoulders. It fell to the floor in a graceful sweep. “Here, try it on.”
Mrs. Nilsson was surprised, but pleased. “All this time I thought you girls were making something pretty for yourselves.”
“We did.” Gerda twirled to show off her new dress. “This is mine.” Balloon sleeves, gathered at the shoulder and tightly cuffed at her wrists, had five rows of tucks running the entire length. Intricate white lace set off the powder blue material with a dainty flower pattern. The dress was full at the bust, but had the new wasp waist that was accented by the full skirt. Yards of material gathered at the waist and swept to dust the floor with a lace trimmed ruffle flounce.
“See, Mrs. Nilsson, we made you one like hers.” Olina held it out to her. “Only in an old rose floral print.”
“I’m too old to wear such frippery.” Mrs. Nilsson couldn’t keep a smile from flitting across her face as she reached for the dress and held it up in front of her.
“You are not.” Gerda hugged her mother. “It’ll look good on you.”
The girls went into the parlor to wait for Mrs. Nilsson to return. Someone had brought in the mail, and it contained a new Godey’s. The two girls pored over the pages while they waited.
“Mrs. Johnson gave me a stack of these magazines that she had collected over the years. I had a good time looking through them. I don’t think the book is as good since Sarah Hale sold it.” Gerda was looking at some of the pictures. “I’m not sure how long
I will continue to take it.”
“It does help you keep up with fashion, doesn’t it?”
“Anna has been taking another magazine. It’s called Ladies Home Journal. I’m sure she would let us borrow one to compare them.”
Just then Mrs. Nilsson came in wearing the new dress. “This is wonderful.” She smoothed the fabric over her hips. “You put more lace on mine than you did yours.” Lace lined the tucks on her sleeve and outlined the waspish waist. The delicate rose color of the dress brought out the natural color in her cheeks, making her look younger. “I’m sure you had a hand in this.” She smiled at Olina.
“Gerda helped. And she picked out the fabric for you. It does look good.” Olina had a feeling of accomplishment when she looked at the beautiful picture made by the woman standing before her.
Mrs. Nilsson continued to finger the delicate lace. “When the other women see these dresses and how well they fit, you’ll probably have some asking you to make them a dress.”
That sounded good to Olina. If her father refused to send her the money to come home, maybe she and Gerda could work together.
“What have we here?” Mr. Nilsson’s voice boomed, preceding him from the hallway into the parlor. “Who is this vision of loveliness?” He picked his wife up from behind and twirled her around before setting her feet back on the floor.
“Bennel, behave yourself.” Mrs. Nilsson blushed and patted a hair back in place.
“Where did my Ingrid get this pretty dress? I haven’t seen it before, have I?” His expression told the girls how much he liked the garment.
“No. The girls made it for me as a surprise.”
Mr. Nilsson looked astonished. “I thought you had to try it on several times to check the fit.”
“I did, too. But they made it in secret, and it fits so well.” She turned around so he could see the dress from every angle.
“You girls are good.” Pride tinged his voice. “Very good.”
“Mother,” Gerda interrupted, “we used the last of the lightweight fabric we have here. Maybe Olina and I need to go to town and pick out some more.”
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