To Everything a Season

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You probably know as well as I do how he’s doing.” Hands on her hips, she surveyed the table. “Go ring the bell, will you, please?”

  He did as asked and stepped back into the kitchen. “I suppose, but what I want to know is what lies ahead.”

  “Only God knows that.” She greeted Ilse and turned back to Trygve. “My personal opinion is he will not be back out in the fields. He might be able to help with the milking and chores around the barn and house, but I pray he is wise enough not to insist on working machinery and a team again. And I pray Ingeborg is strong enough to dissuade him if he does insist.”

  “Then I was right in what I told Hjelmer. My restless feet are ready to be back in Blessing again. There is plenty to do around here, that’s for sure.”

  When they all were seated and the meal blessed, Kaaren said, “Astrid has sent out a prayer request. They had two burn victims come into the hospital, one last night and one this morning, both caused by fireworks. One is pretty severe. I’m sure grateful we decided to not do the fireworks over the river this year.”

  “I don’t care if they never do them,” Grace said, in her careful way. “We had two people, newly deaf, come to the school because of injuries due to the fireworks. Losing your hearing is a terrible price to pay for a few minutes of pleasure.”

  Since Trygve had been one of those who grumbled about the change in plans, he wisely kept his mouth shut. He’d seen fireworks one time in Grand Forks and thought them splendid. Especially after talking with the men who traveled the country setting off the displays.

  He glanced around the table. Ilse and her husband, George McBride, who had been a student at the deaf school when he was younger; two high school students, who chose to stay and work to earn their tuition for the next year; Samuel, the youngest of the Knutson family, who’d recently turned eighteen; Grace and Jonathan, who were acting like the newlyweds they were; and his far and mor. Thinking while eating, he studied his far. Lars was indeed looking older and what? Worn? Tired? Haying hadn’t even started, and harvesting would follow quickly on that. He was not just needed at Haakan’s but here too.

  Why had he not noticed this before?

  Chapter 18

  Manny, I want you to meet my mother, Mrs. Bjorklund. Mor, this is Manny McCrary, the boy you’ve been praying for.” Astrid waved a hand and then stepped back.

  “Hello, Manny.” Ingeborg held out her hand. With more than a slight hesitation, the boy shook hands with her from the bed, along with a slight nod. Panic showed in his eyes.

  “Mrs. Bjorklund is going to be working with you to help get you up and walking with crutches. She has helped many people through the years. I know you get tired of lying here, so I expect you to do what she tells you. I need to go see to other patients, but you can call for me if you need me.” Astrid left the hospital room.

  Ingeborg watched her leave, and a swell of pride touched her even now. She turned and smiled again at her patient. “I’m going to tell you a bit about what I’ll be doing, so if you have any questions, you can ask me. I’ll do the best I can to answer them.” She paused. “All right?”

  His nod was brief, but at least he responded.

  “Today we will be working with your arms and good leg. I need to know how strong you are. I heard that you were very strong before this all began, but your body has been through a lot, and muscles get weak quickly when you are lying in bed. Squeeze my hand, please.”

  She picked up one hand, and he squeezed. “Can you squeeze harder? You needn’t worry about hurting me.” He did so. “Good. Even harder? Ah, that’s better.” He was going to need that hand-and-arm strength to manage walking with crutches.

  After testing the other hand, she held out her arm. “I’m going to push down on your arm like this and then up. See if you can keep me from moving your arm.” His grimace said he was doing all he could, but she was able to make his arm move both up and down. “Now make a fist and bend your elbow.” She pulled against his knotted fist, and again he could not keep the elbow bent.

  His groan made her smile gently. “You needn’t feel bad. Actually you are doing very well.” She laid a hand on his chest. “See if you can sit up.” He flopped back with another groan. “I know. Frustrating, isn’t it?” When she rolled back the sheet and moved to his good leg, he was breathing hard. With a hand on his shin, she said, “Now raise your leg.” When he grunted in the effort, she removed her hand. “See how far you can lift it now.” When his leg rose, she smiled. “Good. How about raising it to touch my hand ten times?”

  By eight, he was shaking and the leg flopped back down as if it weren’t connected. “I can’t.”

  “That’s why I am here. You’ll get your strength back quickly. Bend your leg. That’s it, good. Now raise your foot from your knee ten times. Very good.” She looked up in time to catch an almost smile. Perhaps she was getting through to him. “Now I’m going to rub some salve into your other leg and foot, but I’ll be careful about the incision. This should feel good.”

  With great care she massaged his foot and up his calf, working even more gently as she neared his knee. With feather lightness she slowly moved her hands up the sides of his thigh to allow the warmth of her hands to penetrate the dressing. All the while she watched for any flinching that would indicate pain. Instead, she saw and felt him relax and exhale in relief.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Simple. We all want you to get better, and this is the best way I know how to help right now. The sooner we get you walking with the crutches, the sooner you can leave the hospital.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you are going to come to my house, where I can take care of you more easily.” Ingeborg pulled the chair over beside the bed. “And there you can have more visitors.”

  “I don’t know nobody here.”

  “I know, but I have friends who are looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Why?” He sounded hostile, which was a small step up from being fearful.

  “Because they want to. Inga wants to know if you know how to play rock, paper, scissors.”

  “Who is Inga?”

  “My granddaughter.” Ingeborg smiled. “She’s funny. Do you like music?”

  He nodded. “Don’t everyone?”

  “Possibly. Johnny Solberg asked me to ask if you’ve ever played an instrument.”

  “We had a banjo once.”

  “And you played on that?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Good. He plays the guitar, and he thought perhaps you might like to learn how.”

  Interest sparked his eyes, making her smile inside too. “Maybe. If I got time.”

  “Dr. Bjorklund said you don’t know how to read. Is that true?”

  “I can do sums.”

  “So you did go to school?”

  He shook his head. “Ma taught me to count and add some and subtract, so’s I could handle money.”

  “Well, I have a friend who would like to come to my house and teach you to read.”

  “Why?”

  Exasperation crept into her tone. “Why not?”

  He frowned and scratched his head. “Don’t none of you know me.”

  “But you see, this is the way we can get to know you.”

  “Why? I helped rob your bank. Why do you want to get to know me?”

  “Ah, so that is what’s troubling you.” She nodded and patted his hand. “We have reason to think that your brothers forced you to help them, and you had no choice but to go along with what they told you to do. And now that they are gone and will not be coming back anytime soon, you will need a home for as long as you want to stay. Someday, if you want to go back to Kentucky, you can do that, but for now, you are here in Blessing, and we want you to be part of our family and our town.”

  He huffed out a sigh. “Don’t make no sense.”

  She waited a minute and then asked, “Do you have any other questions?”

  “How come there are two Dr. Bjo
rklunds? They both your girls?”

  “No. Dr. Elizabeth Bjorklund is married to my son Thorliff, and their little girl is Inga. The Dr. Bjorklund here today is my daughter.”

  “You a doctor too?”

  “No, but I do know a lot about medical things. I used to be the midwife for this area and took care of all kinds of injuries because we had no doctors. We live quite a ways from towns big enough to have doctors.” Ingeborg reached down into her bag and brought out her knitting. “Did they have doctors where you came from?”

  “No. Too far.”

  “Like us, huh?”

  “Not flat like this, though. Mountains.”

  “Really? I’ve not seen mountains since I left Norway all those long years ago. Are your mountains tall enough to have snow on them?” Closing her eyes, she could still picture the seter and the true mountains surrounding the mountain farm. White snow flashing against a cobalt sky. The pang that shot through her reminded her why she never allowed herself to think of that home across the ocean.

  “Why did you leave there if you like it so?”

  Ingeborg smiled gently. “Many Norwegians emigrated so that we could have land to farm. Norway is a small country, with much of it in mountains, so farmland is scarce.” Her knitting needles clicked quietly.

  “Is it far away?”

  “Clear on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.” I’ll bet he doesn’t even know what an ocean is. “Have you ever seen a map?”

  “No. Only one that Gabe, my oldest brother, drew so we could find the hideout.”

  “When you go to school this fall, you’ll see maps. We have some in books at our house.”

  “I ain’t goin’ to no school.” He clamped his arms across his chest.

  Ingeborg leaned back in her chair. “Whyever not? All the children here go to school all the way through the twelfth grade. Then some go on to college.” The yarn flew through her fingers as she knit in a closed circle.

  “What are you making?”

  “A hat for you to wear this winter. It gets mighty cold here.”

  His voice gruff, he muttered, “I don’t need no hat.”

  “We shall see.”

  Ingeborg put her knitting away. “I must be going now, but you don’t need me here to work your arms and leg and belly muscles. The more you do the things I showed you, the stronger you will become and the sooner you will walk again.” She patted his hand lying on the sheet. “Dinner will be here soon, and I have a feeling you might have more company this afternoon.”

  When he started to mutter, “I don’t need . . .” she held up her hand. “Yes, you do need our help, and we will make sure you get it.” She waved as she left the room in a swirl of skirts.

  Astrid met her at the nurses’ station. “You did get him talking. I knew you would.” Astrid hugged her mother. “He didn’t have a chance.”

  “He’s one stubborn boy who likes to think he is a man and can do everything he needs.” She patted her daughter’s cheek. “I need to get home and get dinner for Haakan. I left the kettle of soup on the back of the stove. He said he’d not let the stove go out. He’s moving around the house better all the time and can go up and down the porch steps, so he’s not feeling so confined.”

  “And hates his need to take a nap?”

  “Of course. You know your far.” She wagged her head. “I’m thinking he and Manny might just be good for each other.”

  “Mor, you’re always thinking. Or perhaps plotting is not a bad word to use.”

  Astrid liked some weeks better than others, and this was not one of them. One of the burn victims was sent home the next day with honey covering the wound, his hand wrapped, and the arm in a sling. The other, though, had burns on his face, but the most severe were on his hand and chest. When he started coughing, the doctors knew they were in trouble. In spite of all the treatment and prayers, they buried him four days later.

  “That was so senseless!” Astrid stormed around her house that night, fuming and pounding her feet on the stairs. “All because of fireworks. A whole field burned in Pembina. It could have taken out the town.”

  Daniel stared from his rampaging wife to his mother and back to his wife. “How can I help you?”

  “You can’t. Unless you can work miracles and bring him back. His wife has a little boy and a baby girl to raise by herself. She told me the men had been drinking too.”

  She sank down on the stairs, and Daniel came to sit beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his quiet strength, her head on his shoulder. A dry sob slipped out. “I felt so useless. We have to learn better ways to treat burns and the pneumonia that took him. You know what the medical book says, put butter or something greasy on the burn and hot packs. We used ice, and near as I can tell, that’s a lot more effective. Why would you put heat on heat?”

  Daniel simply hugged her closer.

  She could feel herself begin to run down. “I’m sorry, Daniel, for ranting on like this. Such a waste for nothing.”

  That night she was called out for a birthing and got there just in time to catch a perfect baby boy as he slid out into the world. “In a bit of a hurry, weren’t you, young man?” She laid the baby on his mother’s chest and went about her duties humming. As her mor would say, “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

  As she drove the horse and buggy home in the predawn chill, she stopped along the road to watch the sun lemon the sky, the brassy rim peek up bit by bit until the sun leaped up to begin its daily journey. The birds followed the lead of a song sparrow and broke into a chorus of song that lifted on the breeze and heralded the new day. A dog barked as she trotted by and another across a field answered. The horse snorted and tugged at the bit, but Astrid held him steady so she could savor the moment.

  According to Thorliff and Hjelmer, they should all have automobiles by now. “That will be the day,” she said, setting the horse’s ears to twitching. Once home she unhitched the horse and led him into the stall for a bit of grain before turning him loose in the small pasture.

  Daniel found her some time later sound asleep on the wicker settee on the back porch. He kissed her, pulled her to her feet, and helped her up the stairs in spite of her protests that she needed to wash and get over to the hospital. He tucked her into bed, saying he’d wake her in an hour.

  He didn’t. The church bell woke her at noon. Refusing to be disgruntled on such a perfect summer day, she arrived at the hospital just in time to see Manny take his first steps with the crutches that had been waiting for him.

  “You keep this up and in two days, I think you can be moved to the Bjorklund farmhouse.”

  “That’s what I told him.” Her mor sat near the door watching proudly. She smiled at her daughter. “We have his bed all ready for him.”

  I sure hope I am making the right decision, Astrid said to herself. At least he won’t be able to run away for some time. I hope. Please, Lord, let it be so.

  But the fire and defiance in his eyes made her question it.

  Chapter 19

  I think those south fields are ready to be cut.” Lars tipped his hat back on his head and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

  Haakan grunted his assent. “Both mowers are ready?”

  He nodded. “I finished sharpening teeth today. Talk about cutting it short.”

  “Andrew’s pretty good with a stone and file.”

  Lars smiled up at Freda when she handed each of them a glass of strawberry swizzle. “Takk.”

  The two men lifted their glasses in salute, and Lars drank half of his, Haakan only sipping.

  “Sure turned hot this week.” Lars mopped the back of his neck too. “Good sitting here in the shade, though.”

  Haakan grunted again, and it was not assent. “I’d rather be out replacing mower teeth.”

  “I know. I set George to cleaning out the haymows on both places. Weather holds like this, and we’ll be hauling by Friday.”

&n
bsp; “I had the rakes all greased before I went down, so those are ready.”

  “Did you ever get the lift ropes replaced in your haymow?”

  “Andrew and I did it last winter.” Haakan took another drink.

  “Where’s Ingeborg?”

  “Working with that boy at the hospital. She and Astrid decided to bring him out here soon as he can manage crutches. He can’t even read.”

  “Didn’t seem reading was high in the minds of those wasters. All that and they only got fifty-five dollars.” Lars drained his glass. “You sure you want that boy out here? Might steal you blind.”

  “How could he when he can’t even walk?” Haakan glanced up in the tree, where a couple of birds got into an argument. “Poor, dumb kid, growing up in a family like that.”

  “Might be we can turn him into a farmer.”

  “We can try. I’m thinking I might be able to drive one of the hay wagons.”

  “We’ll see.” Lars got to his feet with a low groan. “Better get to milking. Tell Ingeborg we’ve got plenty of cream ready for the cheese house.”

  “I will. Guess she should be home anytime now.” Haakan sipped. “Freda pretty much runs that now, you know. We should be hearing one of these days if any of her relatives from Norway want to come over and help.”

  “Forgot about that. Ja, that’s true. Both Kaaren and Ingeborg sent letters.” Lars settled his hat back square on his head. “Later.” And he headed for the barn and the milking stanchions.

  When Ingeborg drove her buggy into the yard, Haakan was rocking on the front porch. Good. She had noticed coming in that the hay was ready to cut. Haakan, the farmer, seemed content to sit and watch others farm, though. She knew it had to be difficult for him.

  But when she joined him on the porch, Haakan casually mentioned his idea that he’d suggested to Lars—driving the hay wagon.

  She turned real quiet, then said gently, “I wish you wouldn’t. That’s taking a big chance.”

  “No it’s not. We can tie me to the hayrick if need be.”

  Ingeborg’s eyebrows arched a bit. Then she closed her eyes. Please, Lord, show him how dangerous an idea that is.