Fields of Grace

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  While Henrik appreciated Eli’s attention to Ma’s needs, he wondered why the man discussed it with him rather than with Ma. But as long as Eli planned to make improvements, there was something else the sod house needed. “We should also build a solid door. The canvas is getting tattered from the wind flapping it all around. And it will not hold out snow when winter comes.”

  “Sound thinking again.” Eli crouched, plucked up a worm that wriggled up from the ground, and wove it on his hook. “I think as soon as the rain passes, we will make a trip to McPherson Town. We can get lumber for doors and purchase supplies one last time before winter strikes.”

  The thought of going to town—seeing something besides their own plot of rolling prairie—lifted Henrik’s damp spirits. He plopped down next to Eli on the creek bank. Wetness seeped through the seat of his pants, making him shiver, but he ignored the discomfort and baited his hook. “So we all will go to town?”

  “Did I not promise the family a trip to town?” Eli tossed his baited hook into the creek.

  Henrik had learned over the past months that Eli kept his promises. Having the promise of money to attend school had kept Henrik working faithfully and without complaint until the wheat could be harvested. He threw out his line. Raindrops disturbed the surface of the water, the sound reminding him of eggs frying in grease. Surely the fish were far below, hiding in the calm depths. He might be sitting here getting soaked for nothing. “Are you sure fish will bite during rain?”

  Joseph, on Eli’s other side, released a snort. “Now who is duslijch? Everyone knows fish bite better in the rain.”

  Eli nudged Joseph with his elbow. “Do not call your brother stupid.”

  Joseph hunched into his jacket.

  Eli continued, “But Joseph is right, Henrik. I learned this from your grandfather. When your father and I were boys, your Grootfod took us fishing in the early morning while rain fell. It seems we always brought home many more fish on a rainy day than on a day when the sun shone bright.”

  As if to prove his point, his line jumped. Eli flipped a brown, scaly fish with a broad mouth onto the creek bank, where it flopped wildly. Although past experience had taught them this particular fish was not as tasty as the grayish, whiskered fish they called catfish, Eli still grabbed it up. Deftly, he ran a string through its gills, looped the other end of the string around his boot, and tossed the fish back into the water.

  Joseph watched Eli ply his hook with another worm. “You and . . . and Father fished together when you were boys?”

  Eli chuckled lightly and returned his line to the water. “For sure we did. Your father and I, we did most everything together when we were growing up. We got into our share of trouble, too!” With another laugh, he launched into a story about a fishing expedition that turned comical.

  Listening, Henrik wondered why Eli suddenly chose to talk about Father. After Father’s death, it seemed everyone had forgotten about him. But now, months later, Eli spoke of him as if he had been the topic of conversation every day. An uncomfortable feeling teased Henrik’s stomach as he thought about Father. Thoughts of Father led to thoughts of Jakob. The guilt, which Henrik had tried so hard to escape through hard work, returned in a rush.

  Father and Jakob might be sitting on a riverbank in Russia, holding a pole in their hands, were it not for Henrik. Sorrow as fresh as if the deaths had occurred only that morning struck him hard, and tears began to roll down Henrik’s cheeks. Raindrops mingled with the tears, hiding the fact that he cried—until he sniffed.

  Eli’s head shifted sharply, his brows low. “Are you cold, boy? We do not want you to get a chill. Go back to the sod house if you think you might be getting sick.”

  Although Henrik knew he suffered no physical illness, he willingly put his pole aside. “I think I will go back.”

  On his way to the sod house, something else occurred to him. Joseph called Eli Pa. He, like Henrik, had always called their father the formal title of Father. Never Pa. The name Pa had seemed too casual, too familiar. Henrik’s steps slowed to a stop as another bout of sorrow struck—this time for an entirely different reason. He had loved his father, but he hadn’t really known the man. Father had never taken him fishing, or worked side by side with him building a sod house, or talked to him as if his opinion mattered. In a few short months, he and Eli had shared more intimate moments than in all of his years with Father.

  Looking back toward the creek where Eli and Joseph perched together under a veil of rain, Henrik acknowledged a deep need to receive more than discipline and instruction from a father. He had been taught to respect his father, but he also desired to be respected in return. From Eli he had received admonishment, but also approval, respect, and warmth. For the first time, Henrik allowed himself to consider Eli as more than Ma’s husband of convenience.

  Pa . . . The title fit.

  Lillian turned and gestured to the boys, who hunkered in the back of the empty wagon. “I can see McPherson Town. Sit up and look.”

  The wind, chilly and redolent from the days of rain, tugged at her bonnet strings. She held them beneath her chin and smiled at Joseph, who leaned across the back of the seat and broke into a wide-eyed look of wonder. She understood his astonishment. Although they had seen many towns while traveling to their land claim, they had been alone on the prairie for weeks, and the sight of other people was most welcome.

  “Do you see, too?” She included Henrik with her question, even though he remained seated rather than kneeling to peek like his brother. “There are other people residing in Kansas. I had begun to wonder.”

  Eli laughed, shaking his head. “You think just because you do not see something, it does not exist? I told you McPherson Town was there, and I brought back evidence of lumber and an Or’büs. Yet you doubted.”

  Lillian smiled in return. His teasing tone let her know he wasn’t scolding, and she liked hearing the light note in his voice. Although she and Eli hadn’t quite recaptured the same degree of companionship they had briefly enjoyed, he no longer treated her so distantly. She responded quickly. “I did not doubt, but it is good to see for myself.” Facing forward again, she drew in a breath. “We have been so busy, there has been little time to think of being lonely. But now that I see a town and people, I realize how much I miss being part of a community.”

  Eli flicked the reins to hurry the horses the last few yards. “You will be glad when the others come.”

  She looked at him, nibbling her lower lip. “Will you not?”

  His gaze met hers, and his brow puckered pensively for a moment. But then he nodded. “Jo. It will be good to have others near again.”

  Their wagon rolled into town, and Henrik joined Joseph in kneeling behind the seat. Both boys curled their hands over the wooden back and peered around Lillian’s head, commenting on various businesses and speculating on what might be found inside. Joseph hoped for candy, while Henrik admitted a new book to read during the winter months would please him.

  Eli drew the team to a stop in front of a store where the wide windows offered a glimpse of stacked flour sacks. “This is the general store I visited the last time. They have most everything we will need.” The boys started to climb out of the back, but Eli caught Henrik’s arm, forcing them to stop. “I am sorry, boys, but we can only buy needed goods—no peppermint sticks for Joseph and no book for Henrik.” His face reflected his unwillingness to disappoint the boys. “Until we harvest the wheat, we must be prudent with the funds we brought from Gnadenfeld. Do you understand?”

  Lillian watched dismay creep across her sons’ faces, but to her great pride, Henrik squared his shoulders and gave a firm nod.

  “It is fine.” Then he released a humorous snort. “The only books here will be printed in English, and I cannot yet read the English, so what good would it do me to buy one?”

  “English candy must taste as good as Russian candy,” Joseph said, then hung his head. “But I do not need any.”

  Eli smiled his approval. “
All right, then. Let us go in and make our purchases. When we are done here, we will go to the lumberyard.”

  Lillian took Eli’s elbow and followed the boys into the general store. The combination of smells unique to a dry goods store— yeast and leather and apples—transported her to the little general store in Gnadenfeld. She drew a deep breath, taking great pleasure in the remembrance.

  A woman bustled from behind the counter and addressed them. Being unfamiliar with the language, Lillian drew back. But to her surprise, Eli stuttered out a mixed phrase of Low German and English. He apparently communicated their needs, because the woman smiled and gestured them to the side of the store. Lillian stayed close beside Eli, listening as he made transactions. How quickly he had picked up a few English words! Her pride in him grew as he efficiently exchanged paper money and coins for the goods they would need to carry them through the winter months.

  While a store worker organized Eli’s purchases into sturdy wooden crates, Lillian perused the bolts of fabric lining one wall of the neat shop. Her dresses had become tattered from constant wear and being scrubbed against a rock instead of a washboard. Delicate floral patterns caught her eye, and she brushed her fingertips over a pale yellow cotton sprinkled with tiny lavender rosebuds.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she spun to discover Eli behind her. He tipped his head toward the fabric. “You have need of this?”

  Glancing at the frayed hemline of her skirt, she battled temptation to request yardage for a new dress. But remembering Eli’s caution and the boys’ willingness to set aside their desires, she shook her head firmly. “Nä. I will wait until the others arrive and we have formal church services again. Then I will come back and purchase fabric for a new dress.”

  Eli nodded, his eyes bright. “I think that is a good plan.”

  Suddenly, she realized neither Henrik nor Joseph were in the store. Her heart skipped a beat—might Henrik have wandered off again? “Where are the boys?”

  Eli took her arm and aimed her toward the wide window. “They are sitting on the boardwalk sharing a penny’s worth of gumdrops.”

  Lillian’s lips twitched as she fought a grin. “I thought you said no candy.”

  He scratched his chin, shrugging. “The boys have worked hard. They deserve a treat. And a penny . . . We can spare a penny.”

  She shook her head, chuckling indulgently.

  The woman approached and spoke to Eli. He nodded, then turned to Lillian. “Our things are ready.”

  Henrik and Joseph helped Eli load the boxes, bags, and barrels into the back of the wagon. Lillian watched Henrik closely, searching for signs that he might slip away, but he showed no desire to wander. Instead, he bantered with Joseph, followed Eli’s directions without a scowl, and tipped his hat to ladies who passed by on the sidewalk.

  Standing back, observing the way Eli and her sons worked together, her heart swelled. Even Henrik had apparently accepted Eli’s position as head of their household. From all appearances, they had become a family. A true family.

  The loading completed, Eli clapped his hands together. “Nä-jo, boys. Climb in so we can visit the lumberyard and buy wood to build doors for the sod houses.”

  Doors . . .

  As Eli assisted her onto the seat, Lillian’s lovely imaginings dissolved. A true family would have need of only one door because they resided under one roof. As long as she and Eli lived in separate sod houses, they would never be a family in the truest sense.

  24

  Oh, Eli, stop!”

  Eli, alarmed, drew back on the reins. The horses halted, whickering in disapproval. With home so near, they were no doubt as eager to be back in their shelter as Eli was ready for his bed.

  The day’s journey to McPherson Town and back, although mostly spent sitting on the wagon seat, had worn him out. Apparently it had done the same for the boys, because both slept soundly, curled between items in the back. The day was not over, however; they still needed to unload the wagon. But the urgency in Lillian’s tone pushed aside everything but seeing to her need.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed ahead, her face alight with pleasure. “The colors! Oh, look at the sky!”

  Eli looked. Over the past months, he had observed that Kansas had particularly beautiful sunsets. This one was no exception. He smiled in agreement.

  The horses pawed the ground impatiently, but Eli held tight to the reins and watched Lillian take in the glorious sunset. The sweet curve of her lips and the awe in her eyes made him long to reach out, hold her hand, and tip his temple against hers while they admired the sight together.

  “So many colors . . .” Lillian’s gaze darted here and there, seemingly trying to memorize every inch of the broad sky. She gestured animatedly as she spoke. “Bright pink clouds above, orange and yellow ones nearer the ground, and a purple sky behind. Why, the scrub trees and tufts of grass appear to be penned in ink, so black they are against that color-filled sky!” She laughed aloud, and Eli’s grin grew. She glanced at him, and suddenly her delight faded. “You think me foolish.”

  “Ach, nä.” Eli shook his head, curling his fingers around the reins to avoid reaching for her. “I think you are wise to take time to acknowledge God’s handiwork. There is a verse in Psalms . . .” He searched his memory for the reference and exact words. “The beginning of chapter nineteen, I believe, that says, ‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork.’ In a sight such as this one I see God’s glory exuberantly proclaimed.”

  Lillian stared at him, her lips parted slightly as if amazed. “The sky does seem to be singing praise.” She faced forward again, and Eli allowed her a time of uninterrupted thought. Slowly the sun disappeared, the brilliant colors fading as if the scene had been drawn with pastels and the artist had returned to rub the top layers away. When the clouds were deep purple against a dusky sky, Lillian released a contented sigh. Then she gave a little jolt.

  “Oh! How dark it is. And there is still work to be done. I am sorry, Eli.”

  He chirruped to the horses, and they lurched forward. “Do not apologize for taking time to show appreciation for God’s creation, Lillian. I believe our hearts are enriched when we pause to give Him praise, to recognize all He gives.”

  Clouds parted, revealing the first stars. The boys continued to sleep, one of them snoring softly. Night sounds—insects chirping, the wind’s endless whisper, and the distant hoot of an owl— provided a sweet melody. Under the cover of shadow, he opened up a bit of himself to this woman with whom he wished to share all. “Sometimes I marvel at the extras God provides. He meets our needs, yes, but so much more. He did not have to make the world a bright, colorful place of beauty. He could have simply provided the things our bodies require to survive. But He also chose to feed our souls. He designed flowers, singing birds, and even little furry barking creatures that pop out of holes and make us laugh. And He created a sky that begins and ends each day with a show of color.”

  As the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the sod houses, he gathered his final thoughts. Turning to her, he finished quietly. “I think, Lillian, that when we do not pause to admire God’s wonderful handiwork in putting this world together, we disappoint Him. Surely He must delight in our wonder when we delight in His creation.”

  Lillian’s eyes glittered, tears trembling on her full lower lashes. She swallowed, blinked, and shook her head slowly. “Eli, you should have been a preacher. That was the most lovely sermon I have ever heard.”

  Self-conscious, Eli chuckled and rubbed his finger beneath his nose. “Ach, such a thought—me, a preacher. I am a farmer, Lillian, nothing more.”

  “Oh no. You are more. Much more.”

  The admiration in her tone and the sincerity shining in her eyes filled Eli in a way he had never experienced before. His breath caught as warmth spread from his middle outward, heating every inch of his body. With a trembling hand, he reached to cup her cheek, but just before his fingers connected with h
er face, a squeak in the back of the wagon intruded.

  “Ma?” Joseph’s sleepy voice drifted over the gentle night sounds. “Are we home?”

  Lillian turned her face slightly toward her son, but her eyes lingered on Eli. “Jo, Joseph, we are home.” She licked her lips, finally breaking his gaze to look behind them into the wagon bed. “You and Henrik help Eli unload our things, and I will put together a supper for us.”

  While Eli carried boxes into the sod house, sidestepping around Henrik and Joseph, who stumbled sleepily as they helped, his mind continually replayed Lillian’s simple statement. You are more. Much more. The words thrilled him but also bewildered him. Much more than what? And the look in her eyes as she had spoken—what had he glimpsed in her eyes of clearest blue? He had seen the soft look before, when she had spoken of Reinhardt. But having that tenderness turned on him while she uttered words of praise had taken his breath away.

  He plunked the last flour sack on top of the stack of boxes and peered around the sod house. The storehouse of items shrunk the room, leaving very little space to move around. He stepped outside and crossed to Lillian, where she held a skillet over the fire. The flame’s glow lit her face, bringing out the golden shimmer in her hair. He thought of his comment that God hadn’t needed to make the world beautiful, but beauty was His gift to mankind. This woman’s beauty felt like a gift to him.

  Hunkering beside her, he cleared his throat. “I am afraid you will be more crowded than ever with all our winter goods stored with you. I am sorry the sod house is so small. But I promise you, after the harvest, when I build your house, I will make it large— larger, even, than the house you occupied in Gnadenfeld—and it will have many rooms.” The dream unfolded without effort. “There will be a parlor, and a room for eating separate from the kitchen the way the wealthy enjoy, and many bedrooms. One for Joseph and Henrik and—”

  He nearly bit his tongue, he stopped so abruptly. What was he saying? He planned to move Lillian to town when the others arrived. He would have no need of a large house.