A Harvest of Hope

by Lauraine Snelling

  “No. What?”

  “I thought maybe you said it, but . . .” Ingeborg shook her head. “I heard wait. Just that one word. Wait.” She stared at Kaaren, whose eyes must have matched her own, round and astonished. A smile forced its way through her tears. “You know how much I hate to wait.”

  “And yet, that is the answer we’ve been given.” Kaaren held up a hand, her flat palm toward Ingeborg. “I know. The next questions would be, ‘Wait how long and for what?’ But we have both learned through the years not to ask those.”

  “We have?” Ingeborg let her mind travel inward. Waiting. So often lately she was waiting for the tears to dry up, waiting for the promised peace to wrap around her to ease her aching heart. How to praise God and thank Him when she missed Haakan so fiercely. All she could do was teeter on the edge of the pit that yawned at times and scream for Him to help her. “I think I will just stay home.”

  “I thought you invited Miriam to come with you.”

  “I did, but she is on the day shift. And Vera will be sleeping, and Corabell will be working with Gray Cloud and Dawn Breaking. Astrid asked if I could go help them too, so I will do that.” She blew her nose. “Quit looking at me like that.”

  “You know Astrid forgot we had quilting.”

  Ingeborg shook her head, the tears gathering force. “I just can’t take any more right now. I can’t.”

  Kaaren patted her hand as the tears flowed, crying right along with her. Ingeborg’s hand turned over and gripped Kaaren’s as if it were the last resort before the pit sucked her in.

  She finally calmed enough to hear Kaaren’s gentle voice. “‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.’”

  One part of her wanted to join in on the gentle words, but another part wanted to leap up and run out the door. Or scream at her to stop. Sometimes she feared the tears would never stop, but she mopped again, realizing the worst had passed.

  “You’d think I would be beyond all this.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m older. I should be wiser. When I thought ahead to Haakan leaving me, I figured I would just be able to trust that God has it all in His hands and—”

  “You wouldn’t feel the horrid pain of grief?”

  “I guess. After all, I’ve been here before. God saved me from the pit before, and I know He will do the same now, again, but then the grief leaps out of nowhere and grabs me, tries to choke me. Sometimes that is what it feels like. I know I am not alone, but it sure feels like it.”

  “And we know that faith is stronger than feelings. We know the end of the story, we know Jesus is walking right with us, that He already won the war.”

  “Right. I do know those things. I believe those things. I know God loves me and will not let me go. I know that.”

  Kaaren stood and wrapped her arms around Ingeborg. “We trust Him and we give Him thanks and praise that He is right here with us, crying with us, laughing with us, giving us good memories.”

  Ingeborg allowed herself to relax into Kaaren’s arms and against her waist. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, “for my sister Kaaren.” She wiped her eyes again. “Thank you for coming over today.”

  “You are welcome. I see Freda is on her way back from the cheese house.”

  “Can you stay a while longer?”

  “I better get on home before the rain starts again. I need to be there for dinner.” She stepped back. “I will stop with the buggy tomorrow to pick you up for quilting.”

  “I might not go.”

  “Oh, you will. You know I need someone praying for me when I open the meeting.” Kaaren was the elected leader of the quilting group this year, so she had to run the business part of the meetings. “It’s probably a good thing I am in charge, or I wouldn’t go either. Oh, and if I remember right, you have the devotions.”

  Ingeborg groaned. “I forgot. O Lord, I can’t do that. Not without crying.”

  “So cry.” Kaaren swung her shawl around her shoulders as Freda came in the back door. “See you tomorrow. It sure rained there for a bit, didn’t it?”

  Freda set her basket on the counter. “Tell Lars that the soft cheese he wanted will be ready tomorrow.”

  “Good. He’s been wanting that for some time. Are you going to make gjetost this fall? I heard someone asking about that.”

  Freda looked to Ingeborg. “We’ve not decided for sure. Let me see how many requests we get for that.” Ingeborg stood and hugged Kaaren good-bye. “Takk. Tusen takk. I’ll let you know about tomorrow.”

  “Let her know what?” Freda asked.

  Kaaren answered. “If she is going to quilting.”

  Freda frowned and shook her head. “We will see you in the morning. I already have the soup started.”

  “I was supposed to bring the soup too?” Ingeborg shuddered. “How much more have I forgotten?” Yet I remember other things. Truly, how much have I forgotten? Important things? Lord, what do I do now? What if I did forget something really important? She stepped out onto the back porch and watched Kaaren make her way home, sidestepping puddles in the lane. A breeze shook drops from the tree above down onto the porch roof, some so large they almost thudded. The downspout still gurgled into the rain barrel. Inhaling the fragrance of clean air through leaves turning gold, she stared out across the harvested fields.

  The garden was nearly all picked and in except for the late potatoes and the carrots. The carrots would be safe in the garden until the ground began to freeze. They stayed fresher that way than down in the cellar. When they finally dug them, they would cover them with sand in a bin next to the squash.

  She spent the rest of the day cutting out a jumper for Emmy and stitching it up on the sewing machine in her bedroom. She’d moved it in there when Haakan had spent more time in bed so she could keep him company. As the days grew colder, she would move it back to either the kitchen or the parlor near a stove. The treadle’s song was always a conductor of peace.

  “Grandma, where are you?”

  She smiled at the sound of Emmy’s voice. “In here sewing.”

  Both Emmy and Manny charged into her room with cookies in hand. As usual, Freda had left out a plate for them.

  “Grandma, guess what?” Manny leaned on his crutches and swallowed the remainder of his cookie, trying to talk around it. “Dr. Astrid is on her way out here.”

  “In a wagon?”

  “No, walking. She waited for Inga to ask her mor if she could come. That’s all right?”

  “Of course.” She finished the seam and clipped the threads. “Here, Emmy, you need to try this on.” She held up the first stages of the red jumper. “There’s milk or buttermilk in the icebox, Manny. Please pull the coffeepot to the hot end.”

  “You want wood in the stove?”

  “Ja, good idea.” When he headed out, she motioned for Emmy to close the door. “We can pull this over what you have on.” After settling it in place, she leaned back. “Good. Turn around and let me see the whole thing.”

  Emmy’s eyes shone. “Really for me?”

  “I figured for a deep hem. Then we can let it out as you get taller.” She pulled the jumper back over Emmy’s head. “You go eat now.”

  “Dr. Astrid’s here.”

  Ingeborg had long ago realized what sharp hearing Emmy had. Besides, the girl paid attention to things like Patches barking his welcome to announce family. She’d heard that, but it didn’t really register. She followed Emmy out to the kitchen.

  “Grandma, I’m here!” Inga’s cry barely preceded her charge into her grandmother’s arms. “You been sewing?”

  “I sure have. Emmy’s outgrowing all her clothes, so I’m sewing for her.”

  Inga nodded. “Emmy likes red best of all.” She grinned at Ingeborg. “I like blue better.”

  “Really?” Ingeborg kissed the tip of her nose. “I never knew that.”

  Astrid stopped in the kitchen doorway. “How wonderful it is to see you sew
ing.”

  “Emmy has outgrown everything. It took me a while to realize it.” Ingeborg reached for a mug. “Do you have time for coffee?”

  “Is the sky blue?”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t earlier today. What brings you out here?”

  “Can’t a girl want to see her mother?”

  “You’re not a girl,” Inga said with a frown. “You are all grown up.”

  “You’re right. I’ll be more careful with my speech. Actually, I came to see Manny.”

  “You already saw him.”

  “I know, but I have an idea.”

  Manny looked up from reaching for another cookie. “For me?”

  “Ja, for you. I have something for you to try.” She pulled two canes out of a long sack. “Maybe it is time for you to put away the crutches.”

  His eyes rounded, and a grin split his face. “No more crutches?”

  Ingeborg checked to see if the coffee was hot, all the while watching Manny’s delight.

  “Let’s see how you do with these. Maybe one might be enough.”

  He leaned his crutches against the table and stood straight in front of her. He took a cane in each hand.

  “Now, you keep the cane straight with your legs.” She studied the canes and watched to see the height of them. “We might need to cut a little off the bottoms. See the angle of the arm? Mor, what do you think?”

  “Go ahead and walk with them, Manny, and let’s see.”

  The boy fumbled with them but then got the idea. “One step at a time.” He nodded as he talked.

  “Do you ever walk without your crutches?”

  “Not much. But sometimes a step or two. Like down at the barn when I’m milking.”

  “I want you to try with only one.” She showed him how to hold the cane with his left hand and take the step on his right leg at the same time as the cane. “See, this way your healing leg gets supported.”

  “My papaw used a cane. He got around real good.” Manny walked with the one cane.

  “Does your leg hurt?”

  “No. It ain’t hurt for a long time. Lessen I bang it or something.”

  “Okay. Sit back down here and let me check some. Can you pull your pant leg up?”

  Astrid palpated the leg firmly and watched his face to see if he flinched. She pressed harder along the incision scar, but he looked right at her and shook his head.

  “I told you it don’t hurt.”

  “Stand and put your weight evenly on both feet.”

  He did as she asked.

  “Hurt now?”

  “A mite.”

  She could tell he hated to say that, but at least he was honest. “How big a mite?”

  He made a face and shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to say.”

  “Now I want you to walk across the floor using the cane. Take it easy.”

  His gait was uneven, due to the shorter leg, but he seemed to be putting his weight on it correctly.

  She squinted in thought. “All right, Manny, here’s what we’re going to do. Now, I have to be able to trust you on this. Use the cane, but if your leg starts to really hurt, go back to the crutches. I’m not talking about sore muscles, but right at the break site. And if there is any swelling. Also, I want you to use the cane around here but crutches for school for a bit longer. It will take some time to get that right leg as strong as the other leg.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No running. Promise me.”

  He nodded. “I promise.”

  Ingeborg smiled to herself. She could see how hard it was for him to say that, but she had learned that Manny kept his word. She looked over to see the two little girls watching everything. That Inga had kept from asking questions was a miracle alone.

  “I can walk out to get a carrot for Joker. Did you hear him whinny when he saw me? He thought I already got a carrot.”

  “You sure can.”

  He walked slowly to the door, as if not as assured as he tried to be.

  “Can we go gather the eggs?” Emmy asked.

  “Of course. Throw the hens some of that cracked corn.”

  The two girls skipped out the door, their self-imposed silence replaced with giggles and chatter, as if they’d not seen each other for a week.

  “Thanks for coming out for this. We need another celebration.” Ingeborg poured their cups full and refilled the cookie plate.

  “Where’s Freda?”

  “Gone over to help Kaaren with something. How’s Elizabeth?”

  “Feeling better. She has some color back in her face and wants to come to the hospital. I said no. So she is not happy with her doctor right now. I am not taking any chances. That’s all there is to it. She’s worried about Thorliff, and he’s worried about her, and I might have to go poke a hole in that Anner’s head and let all the swelling drain out.”

  Ingeborg rolled her lips together. Then when Astrid gave her an innocent look, she laughed outright.

  “You’re laughing, Mor. I’ve not heard you laugh since . . . for too long.”

  “It would take a mighty strong needle.” Ingeborg barely kept a straight face.

  “Are you saying Anner Valders is hardheaded? Along with a swelled-head syndrome?” The two grinned at each other. Oh, the laughter did indeed feel good.

  Strange how not many hours ago she was teetering on the edge of the pit and crying her eyes raw but now she was able to laugh. Was this God’s comfort and healing in action?

  Ingeborg hoped so. She needed it so badly.

  Chapter 13

  I’m sorry, but I am doing what my doctor ordered.” The tone was polite but underlaid with glass shards.

  Astrid watched carefully as Elizabeth slammed her pillows against the headboard. She had been doing so well. Was this a step backward or just a puddle like those left by the rain yesterday? The lowering skies today hinted at more weather. The thunder on the brow more than hinted at Elizabeth’s frame of mind.

  “Peace goes a long way toward gaining strength.” Astrid kept her tone mild and conversational.

  “What are we going to do about Anner Valders?”

  Astrid ordered herself not to throw kerosene on the fire. “So that is what is bothering you?”

  “One of several things, yes!”

  Astrid felt like her mor as she sent her request for peace and wisdom heavenward. A kind word turneth away wrath. How many years ago had she memorized that one? True, the correct word was soft but she thought kind fit too. “I don’t have any idea. The men are meeting tonight?” She beat off the nagging thought that women should be included also.

  “Yes.” Elizabeth sucked in and released a deep breath and then leaned her head back against the pillows. Eyes closed, she nodded slightly. “One of the things I have always loved about Blessing is that mostly people care for one another here. Sure, there have been minor scuffles and hurt feelings, but nothing like this. First the bank robbery, and now what I think is vindictiveness, bitterness.”

  “But why? Why would Anner be bitter toward Thorliff? I know he gave a business reason, but you believe it is more than that?”

  “Oh, I do. You know how furious Anner was when we wouldn’t sell Manny’s horse? Well, before that, it was because we took the bank robber boy in. He took that bank robbery as a personal attack on him.”

  “Well, he was wounded trying to save the money.”

  “True, and he was given a hero’s thank-you by the town. But . . .”

  Astrid watched and waited. Was she so naïve she didn’t suspect that? After all, she had grown up with respect for the man. He did a good job with the bank and the community trusted him, but he’d never been one of the real leaders of the town. Just Anner Valders who managed the bank, a quiet man. But bitter? Vindictive? Hildegunn had always seemed to be the mouth of the two, the bossy one.

  “And he was furious because so many threw in money to pay the fifty-five dollars back to the bank so Manny could keep his horse.” She nodded, aware she was thinking out loud. “
But why Thorliff? Mor put in money too. I don’t even remember who else. I thought it was a real show of community caring.”

  “Thorliff started it. He was the one who really confronted Anner.”

  “But it wasn’t even Anner’s money.” Astrid shook her head in confusion.

  “But his bank.”

  “I guess I am having a hard time understanding this. He’s not even one of the town leaders.” Her thoughts took off to explore the idea.

  The real leaders were Haakan; Lars; Reverend Solberg; and now Thorliff, who ran the newspaper; Hjelmer; Daniel Jeffers, who brought in the machinery company; and Garth Wiste, who ran the flour mill. The real business owners of the town were mostly women: Sophie with the Blessing Boardinghouse; Penny owned the Blessing Mercantile; Ingeborg, the Blessing Cheese Company; Rebecca, the Blessing Soda Shoppe; Tante Kaaren started the deaf school; and now Dr. Elizabeth and herself. Blessing was indeed an unusual place.

  The bank was community-owned. Those whose money was there were the owners, and that was most of the town. Astrid thought back, trying to remember how it was set up. She knew she had a paper saying that because she had an account there, she had a vote at the yearly meeting. Other meetings were called as needed.

  One was now needed, but who would call it? The annual meeting wasn’t until the first of the year. The meeting tonight could not be about the bank situation, because all the owners had to be invited.

  Thelma knocked at the half-closed door. “You have a patient here, Dr. Astrid. In room one. From the tents.”

  “Thank you.” She rose. “Don’t go away,” she told Elizabeth. “I’ll be back shortly, so hang on to these thoughts, and we can talk some more.”

  “As if I dared.” Elizabeth’s mutter seemed more complaint now than angry.

  Astrid knocked on the door and entered the examining room. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Bjorklund.”

  Two women were waiting for her—one curled up in a fetal position on the bed, the other clutching a bag that might have been a reticule. “Mrs. Sorvito said we had to come.”

  Astrid listened hard to decipher the heavy accent. What language were they speaking? She nodded to encourage the woman speaking, all the time her attention on the younger woman. Pale, obviously in lower abdominal pain, since she clutched both arms around herself. Was that blood on her legs?