From This Day Forward

by Lauraine Snelling

  He laughed again. A silence but for the birds and the hammering and sawing from the hole settled upon them.

  Ingeborg rocked slowly. Lord, thank you for this marvelous day and now time to catch up with my old friend. Eyes closed, she asked, “Do you remember when we met?”

  “I almost knocked you off the sidewalk on a street in New York City, so I had to grab you to keep from falling into the gutter. And you were lost, and your hat was askew, and you looked so shocked when I answered your Norwegian.” He shook his head. “No, guess I don’t remember much.”

  “Oh ja. And you took me down to pay the grocer the penny for the apple. Poor Thorliff, he thought the boys gave it to him, and he was so thrilled to be eating a real apple.”

  “I’ve always wondered, did you let him finish it?”

  “I have no idea.” Her head resting against the pillowed chair, she slowly shook her head. “And you showed me New York City from a brougham. And the schools. Right then I decided that if my children wanted to go to college, they would be able to. After we got our free land, of course.”

  “Isn’t it amazing how God works in lives?”

  “You have certainly made a difference in the lives of the people of Blessing.”

  “But only with money. You and Reverend Solberg and Haakan, Kaaren—all of you here, you take care of the people. You love them and pray for them and feed them and teach them. You serve.”

  “You build the schools and hospitals and businesses that we serve in.”

  He nodded. “Geraldine did too, but she never saw the people.”

  “You miss her terribly.”

  “Of course. As we both know, grief takes time before it is forced to release its grip on your heart.”

  “Thorliff is still trapped by it. He can’t seem to let go but just drives himself until he falls asleep anywhere.”

  “Seems to me I remember Kaaren telling me about a woman who did that years ago. So he learned from watching his mother?”

  “God saved me from the pit.”

  “The pit, as you call it, is a dangerous place. There are whole hospitals and institutions filled with folks whose minds and bodies were destroyed by not only disease but the horrible pit.”

  “Only God. Only our Father can not only draw us back but rebuild our lives.”

  “I hope He can.” David looked dubious.

  “He will, if you let Him.”

  “Perhaps you need to sit down with me and Anton and Thorliff and—” His voice broke and fell to a whisper. “And teach us what you learned.”

  “Any time. And we will invite Pastor Solberg too.”

  The silence crept back in. She heard Emmy and Inga giggling over the creaky wagon. The men calling good-night as they walked out of the hole. Manny and Toby laughing at something.

  “Can I get you anything?” Freda asked from behind the screen door.

  “No, thank you. I think not. I am sated.” Gould started to rise but then sat down again. “You know, Ingeborg, I have not mentioned this to Jonathan yet, let alone discussed it with him. I shall, of course. But I will not be returning to the city. Even as the train was whizzing us across the prairie, I could not see going back to the noise and clutter and hubbub. Peace. I am so ready for peace.”

  “Then you will stay and build here?”

  “Yes. I’ve made the decision.”

  She smiled. “The way you’ve always made your decisions. Once you decide, the matter is done. I am so happy, David. You will add much to our town, and with God’s help, we’ll add much to your life.”

  He studied her. “Thank you.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’d better get over to Jonathan’s house so I can sleep to be ready for Monday morning, early, at the Deming house. Apparently I will be sanding.” He picked up his hat. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome—always.”

  “Grandma, we saw a fox! A gorgeous red fox.” Inga bounded up the stairs. “Hello, Mr. Gould.”

  “Hello, yourself.” He tipped his hat and waved to Ingeborg.

  Emmy and Inga watched him go out the gate. “He sure is a nice man. Did you see his thumb? He said he hit it with a hammer—twice.”

  “That happens when you are learning to work with tools.”

  “Grandpa never had smashed thumbs.”

  “He’d been using his tools for many, many years. They became friends of his, and he took very good care of them.”

  Manny joined them. “He told me that if you take care of your tools, your tools will take care of you.” He breathed a huge sigh. “Grandpa Haakan was a mighty good man.” He looked toward the barn. “I didn’t even milk tonight. Lars told me to go help Toby, so I did.”

  “Ja, that is like Lars. We share the work around here, that’s for sure. What’s Freda doing?”

  Inga peeked in the door. “She’s mixing something. Clara is changing Martin and . . . and, Grandma, I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.” Manny swatted a mosquito.

  “You are always hungry,” Emmy said in her mother voice.

  “Can’t help it, I’m a growing boy.” He held out his leg. “See how short my pants are?”

  “The pants I can’t help with tonight, but I am sure we’ll find food in the icebox and cupboards.” Ingeborg rose from her chair. “Hey, Patches, are you hungry too?”

  Patches thumped his tail on the floorboards and watched them all troop into the kitchen.

  They finished haying the Knutson fields and moved over to the Bjorklund place, leaving a full haymow and six stacks and making sure the hay tops were done just right so the rain would run off, rather than soak in.

  Once the dew started forming, all the haying crew headed home in relief. The milkers went to the barn, where the cows were lamenting the lack of attention, and the girls wandered to the house. Somehow, though, life did not slow down.

  Ingeborg continued driving in the morning, and afternoons and most of her evenings were full of cooking for both construction crews, canning from the garden, making cheese, and falling into bed at night so exhausted she almost forgot to pray. But only almost. Every time Thorliff came to mind, she thanked God for the answers He was working on.

  “Uff da, what is that monstrous noise?” Freda looked out the window one evening as Ingeborg was chopping potatoes.

  “They’re bringing the steam engine to the hole.”

  Inga ran into the kitchen and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Grandma, let’s go watch.”

  “Come along, Clara,” Ingeborg invited.

  She shook her head and signed “You go. Freda and I will keep going here.”

  Freda shook her head. “I have pies in the oven.” She made shooing motions to accent her opinion.

  With a girl on each hand dragging Ingeborg along, they hurried over to where the steam engine was stopped. Manny threw another chunk of wood into the firebox. Lars and Toby parked the new cement mixer by the belt drive of the steam engine and set to mounting the one on the other. Trygve and one of his crew were figuring how to attach the sluicebox to the mixer.

  “It has to be moveable,” Toby said.

  “I know,” Lars said. “Sure wish we could have seen this beast in action.”

  Lord, give them wisdom beyond what they know. It looks like we need a miracle or two here.

  “Grandma, how they gonna—?” As always, Inga had questions, and she was never afraid to ask them.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Look, the cement mixer is turning.”

  Manny threw his hands in the air and charged back around the steam engine to feed more wood to the fire to keep the steam up.

  While the men on the sluice trough had attached it to the feeder from the turning bucket, moving the end to direct the concrete into the form was another story. They clunked and rattled and tried one thing after another.

  While that crew was working with the cement mixer, another was building scaffolding along the basement side of the forms for the concrete tampers to work from. All this while the sun ha
d set, and dusk, instead of creeping in, seemed to be galloping.

  Toby raised his arms and yelled, “That’s it for today, men. You’ve done a good job. See you in the morning.”

  Manny walked back with Ingeborg and the girls. “Wish Papaw back home in Kentucky coulda seen all this. He liked machinery but never had any, other than a plow he drug behind the mule.”

  “It’s hard to believe what is going on,” Ingeborg said. “I remember when we got the first hand-cranked cement mixer. We thought that was the greatest ever. Beat mixing with a shovel in the wheelbarrow. And now this beast can do the work of dozens of wheelbarrows, and faster too.” So many changes. Wouldn’t Haakan have been thrilled to see this? That steam engine that he and Lars brought home. So proud.

  Inga slid her hand into Ingeborg’s. “You thinkin’ of Grandpa Haakan, huh?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You got sad eyes.”

  “But not for long, I promise.”

  The next day, when the concrete poured from the sluicebox into the forms, everyone started cheering.

  That Friday, Ingeborg and her crew were just loading supper into the wagons when she paused. “What’s that noise?”

  “Sounds like a fight. O Lord, help us.” Freda grabbed the wagon handle and headed for the tables by the hole. “Bring your black bag!” she shouted over her shoulder.

  Clara dashed back into the house, grabbed the bag always kept by the door, and ran to catch up with Ingeborg, who was running to the construction site.

  “Go back and get ice.”

  Clara dashed back to the house.

  All the men were slugging it out on the floor of the hole, and one was lying flat on the ground.

  “Stop it! Enough!” Toby grabbed one man by the arms, but another hit him again, knocking him back against the wall. Joshua grabbed another guy and hauled him back while Trygve grabbed the water jugs and threw the water at the fighters.

  John Solberg bellowed, “Stop! Now stop this!”

  But they weren’t listening. They were shouting at each other in three or four different languages, swinging at each other.

  “Please, Lord, stop this insanity!” Ingeborg set her bag on the table. There was plenty of blood flowing, but they would have to come to her. She did not dare go down there. Clara stared up at her, eyes round. Ingeborg shook her head. “It’s not surprising tempers flared. They’ve been working too hard and long.”

  “Go back at this and you will all be fired!” Toby yelled as things were slowing down.

  Two men were down, and those still standing were shouting at each other. But then a miracle: The men seemed to relax; the shouting slowed. Most just stood there or helped the fallen ones up.

  Toby waved an arm. “Get up that ramp and let Mrs. Bjorklund see who she can treat and who needs to go to the hospital. Everyone go home after you eat. I don’t want to see your faces until morning.”

  All in all, six men were injured. Ingeborg sent one to the hospital for stitches after wrapping his head. She treated the others, several of whom would not even look her in the eye. Freda and Clara served the meal while Toby and his foremen went back in the hole to put away the tools. Washing the cement mixer took the longest, sluicing it with water from the water wagon that had arrived with it on the train.

  All the crew had left by the time the foremen and John Solberg got to the tables.

  “It’s a good thing we were at the end of a pour,” Joshua Landsverk said as he took a full plate and sat down.

  “Takk, Tante Ingeborg, for both doctoring and the food,” Trygve said. “I guess we should be grateful something like this hasn’t happened before.”

  “Right.” Toby took his plate. “Anyone know what or who started it?”

  “Someone dropped a hammer on his partner, and he shoved back, and it exploded from there.” Joshua shoveled in a mouthful. “Stupid.”

  Ingeborg put what was left of her supplies back in the worn leather bag. “I should have sent one of the others to the hospital too. Let’s see, Deborah is on duty tonight. She won’t call Astrid unless she absolutely has to. No sense getting more people involved.”

  “There will be some unhappy wives when these guys get home. You’d have thought they’d been drinking.” Solberg sat down and Ingeborg set his plate in front of him. “Toby, I know you are under terrible pressure to get this building weathered in, but you can’t keep driving the men like this.”

  “We’ll start doing shift work when haying is done or we get more workers.”

  “Haying should be done by when?” John Solberg looked to Ingeborg.

  “Another week should do it.”

  “Good. You know, Toby, there have been remarkably few accidents on this project. You three men are doing a good job. It’s easy to forget to say thank you.”

  “Right.” Toby wrote himself a note.

  Ingeborg could read it from across the table. She nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure Thorliff and the others will go along with it.”

  “They better.”

  The next morning back on the job, Reverend Solberg declared the following Sunday a no-work day. Everyone cheered.

  “And later in the afternoon, there will be a baseball game in the Bjorklund pasture.” Another cheer. He leaned over to Trygve. “They’ve not let the cows out on that field recently, have they?”

  “Ja, that’s a good pasture, and the cows keep it grazed down. Shame if we had to mow it to play ball.” Trygve grinned at him. “Cow pies just add another bit of sport, that’s all.”

  Chapter 24

  Thank you for doing my laundry and all the meals you have provided. Toby. Deborah read the note again and felt a smile clear down to her toes. She tucked the note into her pocket and then made sure there was ice in his icebox, where she had left the hard-boiled-egg salad. On the table waited a large square of coffee cake, several slices of bread, and a bowl of raspberry jam, the skimmings of foam off the top.

  You are welcome. Enjoy, she wrote, and slid the note under the dish of jam.

  When she stepped down off his porch, she paused and turned to look at the house. How long had she dreamed of being the mistress here? With a sigh, she continued home.

  Mary Martha was in the kitchen, scrubbing out the lard bucket. They would be making soap before long.

  “Another note from Toby.” Deborah showed it to her.

  Mary Martha grinned. “I knew he appreciated what we’ve done; you just have to wait patiently for answers at times.”

  Deborah nodded, sure her mother meant more than the thank-you note. “Are you going to make a box for the social also?”

  Mary Martha gave her daughter one of those you have to be kidding looks. “Don’t you think I’m a bit old for that? And married? With a family?”

  Deborah turned from searching for a suitable container to decorate. “It’s all for a good cause.”

  “I’ll bake a cake and two pies for the bake sale.”

  Deborah smiled. “That was wise of you women to have both events at the same time. So women who aren’t auctioning off boxes can take part anyway.” Knowing the people of Blessing, the promised dance was going to be the real draw.

  “By the way, I saw Mr. Gendarme at Penny’s. He was ordering supplies for his classes, I believe.”

  “I thought he was on the haying crew.” Mr. Gendarme had intended to help build the deaf school, but Jonathan had asked for him.

  “John says they are about finished with haying, and then Mr. Gendarme can go back to swinging a hammer.” Mary Martha smiled at her. “He asked about you.”

  Deborah could feel her mouth drop. She stared at her mother, at the same time ignoring the heat climbing up her neck. “What did he say?”

  “Oh, he was wondering if you might be interested in going for a soda.”

  Deborah waited. “All right, Ma, and you said . . .”

  Mary Martha’s innocence looked a wee bit out of place, as if deliberately chosen. Which it had been, Deborah k
new well. She should just ignore this and go about her decorating.

  “Why, I said of course. What else would I say? You are not beholden to anyone. And he has such lovely manners.” She grinned at her daughter. “And you have to admit, he is a fine-looking young man.”

  “Ma!” She might as well have been out in the direct August sun all afternoon, as hot as her face felt.

  “I told him about the box social.”

  Deborah closed her eyes. “What else did you tell him?”

  “That we are grateful he chose to come to Blessing to teach.” Mary Martha dried her hands and reached for her sunbonnet. “I’m going out in the garden to pick lettuce for supper. I wish the tomatoes were ripe enough to eat. I want a fresh tomato in the worst way.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t tell him what my box will look like.”

  “How could I? That would be improper, and besides, I don’t know what you are going to do.”

  And you can count on my not telling you, Deborah thought. Now to decide what to make to put in her box or basket or whatever she decided to use.

  So everyone was shifting gears, from Toby to Mr. Gendarme. Deborah was fairly certain she was not ready to dance to this new tune.

  Someone knocked at the front door. Now what? As her mother went out the back door, Deborah walked to the front door. The tall, handsome man standing on the porch nearly took her breath away.

  “Why, Mr. Gendarme, what a nice surprise.” When did I last fix my hair? At least I’m not wearing an apron, but this dress . . . The thoughts rampaged through her mind as she stepped back, motioning him inside.

  “I know this is not proper, just coming by like this.”

  “Rules like that don’t apply in Blessing.” Her mother’s comments drifted in and flustered her even more. “Would you like to sit outside, where it is cooler?” She motioned through the house.

  “Actually, I wondered if you might have time to join me for a soda. I’ve heard such high praise that I would like to try one and . . .” He shook his head. “This is very difficult, this informality. I’m sorry to bother you if you are busy. I shall return later.”

  He started to turn away. Deborah raised a hand. “Please, Mr. Gendarme, we do not stand on ceremony here, and frankly, you are doing quite well for your first venture into casual society. I would be pleased to join you. Let me tell my mother where I’m going.” Of course, she already knows. Is everyone in Blessing a matchmaker? “Would you like to meet my family?”