Icecutter's Daughter, The

by Tracie Peterson

  She heard the tenderness in his voice. “I won’t. I’m sorry I said such things. It’s just that I feel I know Rurik’s character, and I don’t want to see him misjudged. Not only that, but I love working for Mr. Jorgenson and painting the furniture. I don’t want to lose that opportunity.”

  “I promise you, I’ll speak to Carl on your behalf. I’ll do everything in my power to see that you can continue to paint. Perhaps there will be a delay for a time, but hopefully it won’t be long. All I ask is that you trust me.”

  Merrill drew a deep breath. “I do trust you, Father.”

  Rurik was with his uncle when Bogart Krause came to speak to him, and he immediately knew what Merrill’s father wanted to discuss. “I hope you can both give me a moment of your time—in private.”

  Rurik exchanged a glance with his uncle and nodded. “We could go to the house and have some coffee.”

  Carl quickly agreed. “There’s a pot on from this morning. Ought to be good and strong by now.”

  The three men headed to the door and were met by Nils Olsson as he came from the office. He looked at the men as if awaiting an explanation. Rurik said nothing, leaving the matter to his uncle.

  “Nils, we have some private business,” Carl declared.

  “Anything I can help with?” Nils asked, sounding hopeful.

  “No. We’ll be back when we can,” Carl said, offering no further explanation.

  Rurik could see that Nils wasn’t pleased to be left out, but he said nothing more. The trio made their way to the Jorgenson house and once inside, Carl led the way to the kitchen and went immediately to the stove. He jiggled the pot and smiled. “Should be enough for us each to have a swallow.” He retrieved three mugs and brought them with the pot to the table.

  “Now, why don’t you tell us what you need to discuss, Bogart?” Carl invited as he poured the coffee.

  Merrill’s father nodded. “The church elders have been called together regarding Rurik and Miss Olsson on the matter of her . . . their . . . situation.”

  “Ja, I thought as much,” Carl replied.

  “I wanted to talk to the two of you first. You see, I made a promise to Merrill that I would seek the complete truth. It’s not that I wouldn’t have done so anyway, but knowing how she feels about you, Rurik, I felt more than simple obligation.”

  “I appreciate that,” Rurik said, staring down at his cup. “I assure you, the facts are not as they’ve been circulating around.”

  Bogart nodded. “Then I’d like to hear exactly what the facts are.”

  Rurik looked up to find complete sincerity in the man’s expression. He said a silent prayer and pushed back the coffee. “I suppose it would be best to start at the beginning.”

  Chapter 21

  Rurik didn’t know what he’d expected once the news got out about Svea being with child, but it certainly wasn’t the standoffish manner of the ones who had once greeted him warmly and with open smiles. Now as he passed folks on the street, they were more apt to look away or pretend to be occupied with other matters. At his uncle’s business, Rurik could see the uneasiness and confusion on the faces of those who worked with him.

  He picked up the mail, barely hearing a grunt from the usually talkative postmaster. When someone called out his name as he left the post office, Rurik halted, surprised to see the pastor.

  “Mr. Jorgenson, I was making my way to your house, but it looks like I can save myself a trip,” the pastor said. “I wanted to let you know there will be a meeting at the church tomorrow morning at nine. We’d like to speak to both you and Miss Olsson at that time.”

  “Am I allowed to have character witnesses present?” Rurik asked.

  The pastor’s eyebrows rose. “This isn’t a court of law.” He smiled. “We merely wish to discuss the matter at hand with the both of you and see if there isn’t a resolution to be had.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. I’ve already been judged guilty by most in this community.” He glanced around and could see that those nearby were trying hard not to openly watch his interaction with the pastor.

  “Now then, I assure you that isn’t the case.” The pastor looked about as if to reassure himself. “I hope we can resolve everything in the morning in a manner that is agreeable and fair.”

  Rurik wanted to say more but figured it would do more harm than good. He’d wait until morning and then speak his mind. He could only pray that the voice of reason would be heard, that God would let the truth be known. Of course, that would also depend on what Svea said.

  He looked down the road to the hotel where Svea and Nils were staying. Would it do any good to speak to her one more time? If he appealed to her on the basis of Christian honesty, would that cause her to take back her lies?

  Heaving a long sigh, Rurik finally decided it best to speak with his uncle first. He wanted to let the man know what the pastor had said and get his advice. Sadly, Rurik knew that if the matter was pushed and the church declared it necessary for him to marry Svea, he would have to leave the community altogether. That would be a huge blow to his uncle, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Even though Uncle Carl was feeling stronger and better than he had a few weeks back, he would not again be able to handle the shop on his own.

  And then there was Merrill. . . . He felt as if a knife were twisting in his heart.

  Rurik looked around as he walked to the house. He liked Waseca more than he’d figured he would. He acknowledged it had a lot to do with Merrill, but he also found the town suited his needs. At least it had. Would the community be willing to forget this matter and put it behind them if Svea finally told the truth? Would Rurik be able to court Merrill without worrying about how people would react, how they would treat her?

  He found Carl in the kitchen, as he usually did. The older man was reading the newspaper and looked up with a smile. “I see you got the mail. Any word from home?”

  Rurik shook his head. “The pastor stopped me. There’s a meeting planned for tomorrow morning at nine. Svea and I will be questioned about our relationship and her condition. I thought you should know.”

  Carl nodded. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll go with you.”

  “Thank you,” he managed as he sank into an empty chair. A sense of defeat washed over him. “I don’t know what to do, Uncle Carl. I’ve told the truth, and I’ve put my trust in God. But I feel as if the walls are closing in on me. Is God still listening to my prayers?”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like He is,” his uncle replied. “I sometimes think of the agony Jesus suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane. When you read about Him laboring in prayer for himself, the disciples, and even for us, you have to wonder if Jesus didn’t feel like He was all alone in the world. Of course, He knew the Father was listening. He knew God would never forsake Him, and yet Jesus still struggled and suffered. If He has to go through those things . . . well, I guess it’s only natural that we would, as well.”

  Rurik nodded slowly and took a long breath. “God didn’t spare His own Son, so why would He spare me?”

  “But He has spared you,” Carl replied. “Jesus paid the price for all our sins. By taking Him as Savior, we are spared from eternal death and separation from God. God didn’t spare His own Son, but willingly gave Him up for us all. There was a reason and a purpose for the suffering our Lord endured. There’s a reason for the problems and pain we endure here on earth. We can’t always see them. In fact, we might very well go to the grave not knowing why things turned out the way they did. Why did my sweet wife have to suffer and die so young?” He shrugged. “Rurik, I wouldn’t worry about this. They can’t make you do what you don’t feel right about doing. If you aren’t supposed to marry Svea Olsson, then God will make provision for that.”

  “But they can make life very unpleasant for several of us if I don’t. In fact, if they decide I must marry Svea, I don’t see how I can stay in Waseca. I will have to leave town.”

  Carl considered this for a moment. “I know it would be
hard for you to stay, but I wouldn’t want you to run from this.”

  “I can’t let it destroy what you’ve spent a lifetime building. Jorgenson Furniture has a good reputation. At least it did before I got here.”

  “Its reputation is still intact. You know, however, that I cannot carry on with the business. Without your help, I would have to sell the business or dissolve it. The men I have working for me are good, but they aren’t able to design and implement new patterns like you can. They are just learning this trade, while you have done this since you were a boy. Losing you would mean the end of the business, I’m afraid.”

  Rurik felt the added burden of his uncle’s words. “You could probably find someone else talented enough to help you. I’m sure there are others in the area who’ve built furniture or designed it. Maybe we could put an ad in the Minneapolis and St. Paul papers.”

  Carl let go a heavy sigh. “I’m old and tired, Rurik. I don’t want to sound like I’m giving up easily, but having you here was an answer to prayers long prayed. If you go, I’d rather just quit the business for good.”

  Rurik knew the older man didn’t realize how this was making him feel. Surely Uncle Carl wouldn’t say these things if he understood the added stress they caused Rurik.

  “Well, perhaps everything will come around right tomorrow,” Rurik finally said. “I think I should go and speak one final time to Svea. She’s the only one who can set everyone straight. They will listen to her.”

  “There’s another matter that you need to be aware of,” Carl said, looking quite grim.

  Rurik knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Carl told him. He leaned forward. “Go on.”

  “There are problems with the books.”

  “What books?” Rurik knew almost as soon as he asked the question that his uncle was talking about the business ledgers.

  “The accounts are not adding up correctly. I’ve gone over the tallies, and something is off.”

  “Have you said anything to Nils?”

  “No. I don’t want to just yet. I thought at first it was an honest mistake or some oversight. But now I’m not so sure—it amounts to several hundred dollars.”

  “Hundreds?” Rurik asked in disbelief. “How could that be?”

  “If I knew that, I’d know why the numbers are off. Like I said, it could be a simple mistake. I need to see all the receipts, however, and compare the figures. That will take me some time, and I want to do it when Nils isn’t around. If he is dipping into the company’s accounts, I’d prefer to catch him in the act.”

  “I’m so sorry, Uncle Carl. It seems I’ve done nothing but bring you trouble.”

  “I don’t see it that way, and you shouldn’t either. Nils Olsson is accountable for his own deeds. You are accountable for yours. Now is not the time to go feeling sorry for yourself. We’ll get this sorted out and figure what’s to be done next. Nils won’t be in tomorrow, since it’s Saturday. In fact, I believe he plans to go to Mankato tonight, so I should have plenty of time to review everything.”

  Rurik couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow wouldn’t change everything for all of them. “You’ll let me know what you find out?”

  “Ja, and we’ll deal with it together. Just like we’ll deal with the church and the town.”

  Granny Lassiter sat knitting while Merrill tried to explain everything. “Father says there’s to be a meeting at the church in the morning. The elders and pastor plan to speak to Rurik and Svea. I’m afraid they mean to force Rurik to marry her.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Pastor John. I can’t see him trying to force something like that on someone. He’s a fair, even-tempered man, Merrill Jean. I think he’ll listen to the truth.”

  “But it’s a matter of Svea saying one thing and Rurik another.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “No one can prove the truth one way or another.”

  “Goodness, child. Just listen to yourself. ‘No one can prove the truth?’ Bah! God won’t be mocked. His truth will always be revealed. It may not come about the way we think it should or in our timing, but the truth will stand.”

  Merrill bit her lips to keep from crying. “I’m afraid, Granny. I love him, and he loves me.”

  The old woman looked up and smiled. “I knew it all along. I’ve waited so long to hear those words from you. Thank you, Jesus!”

  “But don’t you see how hopeless this is?”

  Granny put down her knitting and raised a gnarled finger toward Merrill’s. “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

  Merrill pulled back in shock. “What?”

  “Satan is the spirit of discord here. He’s the one who wants to sow doubt and despair, and I won’t have it. You are a daughter of God Almighty, and Rurik is also a child of God. Do you suppose He would forget His children? How dare you claim to know God and yet use the word hopeless in the same breath?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, Granny.”

  Granny eyed her with a raised brow. “Then what other way do you mean it? If you think this matter hopeless, then I can only surmise that you believe God has no control of it.”

  “Of course God has control. It’s just . . . well . . . what if this doesn’t work out the way it should?” Merrill asked.

  “You mean the way you think it should?”

  Merrill felt rather embarrassed. “I suppose I do. But I do want the truth to come out. I want Rurik to be found innocent so that we can have a life together.”

  “God knows the desires of your heart, Merrill Jean. He put them there. He brought Rurik into your life, and He has always watched over you. Don’t doubt Him now, just because things are difficult and seem bleak. Remember what you told me that your mama said just before she died?”

  Merrill thought back to that tragic time. “She told me not to judge God’s love for me in her death. She said that God’s love for us came in the form of a baby in a manger . . . but also in the bloodied body of Jesus on the cross.” Merrill drew a deep breath and nodded. “She told me to trust God no matter what the circumstances or how things looked.” Merrill could nearly hear her mother’s words being spoken aloud. “Mama knew my heart. Sometimes I think things need to be a certain way in order to come from God. I guess I need to remember her words more often.”

  The front door crashed open just then, and Corabeth came flying into the house, tracking mud across the foyer and into the living room. “Oh, Merrill! Merrill . . . you’re here. I’ve . . . I’ve looked for you . . . everywhere. Come . . . quick! It’s . . . horrible!”

  Merrill jumped to her feet. “What’s horrible? What’s wrong?”

  Corabeth held her hand against her side and panted out, “It’s . . . it’s Miss Olsson. She’s . . . she’s injured.”

  “What happened?” Merrill and Granny asked in unison. “Rurik,” she said, getting her breath. “Rurik pushed her down the stairs at the hotel. At least . . . that’s what they’re saying.”

  Chapter 22

  “I’m telling you I didn’t push her,” Rurik told the police chief, shaking his head for emphasis. “I had gone upstairs to see if she and her brother Nils Olsson would join me for a discussion in the dining room. Nils wasn’t there, so I told Svea I’d like to speak to her. She agreed, and as we walked down the hall toward the stairs she started yelling at me and accusing me of . . .” He fell silent.

  The officer’s brows rose and other onlookers seemed to lean in. “Accused you of what?”

  Rurik could see that everyone waited anxiously for his response. “She accused me of trying to get rid of her.”

  “And were you?” the lawman asked. “Were you trying to get rid of her? Trying to kill her?”

  “Absolutely not.” Rurik looked to where the doctor was tending to Svea. She was still lying near the foot of the stairs, moaning and sobbing as the doctor arranged for a litter to carry her back to his examination room.

  Rurik noted that Uncle Carl had arrived. He saw his uncle’s concerned expression as their glances connected. Carl pressed thro
ugh the crowd to reach Rurik. “What happened? They said you were in trouble.”

  “Svea lost her balance and fell down the stairs, but they think I pushed her.”

  “She was mighty upset with you,” the hotel clerk declared. “I heard it all. Saw some of it, too.”

  “Did you see me push her?” Rurik demanded, his frustration getting the better of him. “Of course not, because I didn’t. She was upset with me, I’ll give you that much. But in her frustration, she lost her balance and fell.”

  “I saw your hands stretched out,” the clerk declared. “Looked like you were pushing her.”

  “I tried to reach out to save her, but it was too late.”

  “Seems kind of convenient to say she just lost her balance,” the police chief said, fixing Rurik with a stern expression.

  “This makes no sense, Zed, and you know it,” Carl said, turning to the police chief. “My nephew would never hurt anyone—much less this young lady. He’s known her from childhood. And even if he were so inclined, why on earth would he do it in sight of others?”

  “They are supposed to marry, as I understand it,” the lawman said, obviously avoiding the question.

  “They were,” Carl countered. This drew distinct murmurings in the crowd. “Miss Olsson ended the engagement prior to my nephew joining me here in Waseca,” Carl added, his voice raised.

  “She’s lost consciousness,” someone called out. Everyone turned to look to where Svea lay completely still.

  “Is she dead?” another voice questioned.

  Rurik felt sick to his stomach. She couldn’t possibly be . . . dead. He groaned, and his legs barely could hold him upright.

  He’d only wanted to speak to Svea and urge her to tell the truth. How had this happened? He rubbed his head, unable to make sense of anything.

  “She’s not dead,” the doctor announced, “but we need to get her to my office right away.”