From This Day Forward Read online

  He stepped back. “Now I have one very important piece of advice.”

  Anji waited.

  “Breathe. Take several deep breaths to calm yourself. Right. Breathe again.” He nodded, his smile bringing even more calm. He turned to Rebecca. “Are you ready?”

  “Ja, we are all ready.”

  Anji licked her lips and reached for the glass of water Rebecca had brought her. She took a drink, then another deep breath and blew it out. “I’m ready.”

  I hope.

  Chapter 2

  The piano prelude changed from something gentle and melodic to something stately. Anji had trouble listening to the music; her mind and heart fluttered too much.

  Rebecca kissed her on the cheek. “I know Mor and Far are smiling down on us and are so glad you will have a husband in your life again. I am sure they have been worrying that you needed help.”

  “You think people worry over what is going on down here when they are in heaven?”

  “The Bible has places that talk about people looking down but not able to change anything.” She opened the door. “Here we go, just like we practiced.”

  Anji watched her sister step into the sanctuary and start down the aisle. Anji moved to the wide doorway. The glorious flowers drew her gaze to the altar, where it fell upon the three men waiting. But really Thomas Devlin—tall, handsome, his deep red hair combed back—was the only one she saw. Thank you, Lord, for this man, she whispered to herself and stepped forward as everyone stood.

  Her eyes locked on his, and it was as if a glimmering line drew her forward. She clutched her bouquet of purple lilacs with white spirea and paced the length of the aisle. As she drew closer, he shimmered through the tears she ignored. Could one drown in another’s eyes? When she reached him, he took her hand and drew it through his arm, she handed her bouquet to Rebecca, who was unashamedly sniffing, and they turned to face Pastor Solberg, who nodded with a smile. He then looked to the congregation.

  “We are gathered today in this house of God to unite these two people in holy matrimony. Let us pray. Lord God, who instituted marriage as a union, we thank you for the blessings of love and marriage. We thank you that if we keep you as the center of our lives, we become stronger because of your strength. Bless Anji and Thomas as they repeat their vows and begin their life together. Amen.”

  He nodded to Jonathan Gould on the piano, and as his fingers danced on the keys, Linnea Bjorklund and Truth Hastings, Miriam Knutson’s little sister, came to stand beside him. The girls’ voices blended in a lovely old Norwegian wedding song and then floated into an amen together.

  Anji looked up at Devlin, her eyes wide in delight. He smiled and patted her hand. I didn’t know they could sing like that. How long have they been practicing? The questions floated away as Reverend Solberg raised an eyebrow before the next part of the service.

  “Let us hear what our Father has said about holy matrimony.” After reading the passage about leaving father and mother and cleaving to one another, he nodded toward Sophie. “And remember what I have told you so often; the word charity here means ‘complete and utter love.’ Agape.”

  Sophie Wiste stood and took a deep breath. “First Corinthians 13, verses four through eight and thirteen. ‘Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil. . . . And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.’” She smiled at Anji and Thomas and sat down.

  “Anji, Thomas, as your pastor here, I have some words of advice for you.” Reverend Solberg raised his eyes to the congregation. “And to all those for whom this applies now—and if not now, ponder it for the future. Some of the wise words in the Scriptures apply not only to married couples but all of us.” He paused. “Do not let the sun go down on your anger. We all get hurt and angry at times, that is part of life, but if we can say we are sorry and ask for forgiveness before that night falls, we will have fewer fights, deeper friendships, and we’ll all sleep better.

  “In that Corinthians passage, we are told what real love is. We can’t manage all of that all the time, but that is the way that God loves us. Be the first to say, ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me.’ Don’t cross your arms and blame the other person. We are called to live together in love, as He loves us. And when we do love like this, our families will be closer, our marriages stronger, and our hearts lighter. We are all His children, brothers and sisters in the family of Christ. How blessed we are. Amen.”

  He turned back to Anji and Thomas, bade them face each other and read the vows, waiting for them to repeat after him.

  “Aye, I do,” Thomas said, never taking his eyes off the woman before him.

  “And do you, Anji Moen, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

  Anji made her pledges to Thomas firmly, looking into his eyes, her voice only wobbling once or twice, especially on the “till death do we part” portion. She’d been through that once, with Ivar, and knew the pain.

  “I now pronounce you, Anji, and you, Thomas, man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  As they kissed, a boy’s voice came from somewhere in room. “Oh ick.”

  As the congregation chuckled, Thomas whispered, “I used to think that too.”

  Anji rolled her eyes, trying to stifle a giggle.

  Reverend Solberg laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee . . .” When he finished the blessing, he looked to the congregation. “Meet Rector and Mrs. Thomas Devlin.” He beckoned to the four children in the front row. When they came forward, he added, “And their family.”

  With the four children in front and their arms locked together, the family made their way down the aisle, stopping to greet their friends and families as they went.

  “Join us under the trees for cake, coffee, and whatever else the women have put together,” Thomas invited in full voice.

  The piano played them out the door and down the stairs.

  “I’m so glad we set this outside. So many were praying for no rain.” Anji couldn’t stop smiling at the man beside her as she held tight to his arm.

  “Ye make a muckle fine bride, Anji Devlin.”

  Anji Devlin! Oh my!

  The party lasted through the meal, and then everyone gathered close to watch the couple open their gifts. One was a sheet with a strip of bright fabric wrapped around it and tied in a bow. Anji let Melissa untie the bow to find a wedding ring quilt folded carefully. Anji held it up and read the embroidered tag: To Anji and Thomas Devlin with love, the women of Blessing Lutheran Church.

  Anji stared around at all the women who usually quilted. “When did you have time to do this? I mean, I often attended and . . .”

  “We’ve been busy,” Penny said, grinning at the others. “It was hard to keep the secret, especially when you were part of the group.” The other women nodded and smiled.

  After opening packets of flower starts, household items, linens, canned goods, dried beans, and an embroidered picture of snowcapped Norwegian mountains, one more box appeared.

  “This one is for the children,” Daniel Jeffers announced, beckoning the four forward. “Come on, you can open it together.” He held the big box carefully.

  When the box whimpered, Joseph’s eyes grew wide. He unfolded the flaps and all four of them peered down at a fluffy red-and-white puppy. Anji gasped and looked at Thomas.

  Gilbert looked up at his mother. “Is it really ours?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yer mum didn’t know about this gift, but they asked me first. We have an old dog at the rectory that needs a friend something fierce, like this little fellow and you children. But you have to come up with a name. Oh, and ’tis a male puppy.”

  Melissa reached inside the box and lifted out the bundle of fur, which tried to lick her face and her hands, then gave Gilbert a swipe, nibbled on Annika’s fingers, and wriggled all over as Me
lissa handed it to Joseph, who got piddled on.

  “I think Piddler would be good,” someone called out.

  “Nah, name it Fluffy,” a child called out.

  The other children gathered around, and as the puppy made the rounds, more ideas were volunteered among giggles and glee.

  “I want to name him Benny,” Joseph announced.

  “My name!” Benny grinned from his wagon. “That’s a good name.”

  Melissa nodded. Gilbert shrugged, and Annika giggled as the puppy licked her chin again.

  “I guess Benny it is,” Devlin agreed. “The old dog’s name is Frank, so we’ll have Benny and Frank. Sounds fine to me.” He shook the human Benny’s hand. “If that pup has half the guts ye have, lad, ’twill become a right wondrous dog.”

  He stood and raised his hands. “Thankee all for the lovely gifts and for joining us here to celebrate. Ye have all made this day even more beautiful than ever I dreamed.”

  Andrew Bjorklund stood up. “I have another gift for you, but Mor said I should ask first. So do you have a place for a pig to live? If you do, I’ll build a crate and load it on the train with you Monday.”

  “We would have sent chickens, but you already have those. So we boxed up some rhubarb roots instead,” Ingeborg announced. “And strawberry plants, because I know how much Melissa loves strawberries. These will all be at the train, ready to go.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t crate up a heifer calf,” Anji said, shaking her head.

  Ingeborg laughed. “We thought about it, but Andrew figured a pig would be easier. And there will be baskets for the train ride. Thomas, I know how you love my cheese; there will be plenty.”

  “And I thought we didn’t have much more than clothes to ship.” Anji looked up at her new husband.

  “You should have known better,” Kaaren told them. “As if we would send six of our own off without provisions.”

  On Monday afternoon, Sophie watched from the end of the platform as the eastbound train spent extra time at the Blessing stop. The men loaded the pig crate and various other boxes and crates. The canine Benny was to ride with his new family. Sophie joined the happy crowd as all the people exchanged hugs and many wiped away tears. The impatient conductor kept trying to hurry things along, but some things cannot be hurried, like all the good-byes and advice. He did keep his smile in place as he finally got the Devlin family ushered up the steps, waving as they went. Once inside, they plastered themselves to the windows, as everyone at the station waved good-bye until only the trail of smoke was visible.

  The school-aged children returned to school from their all-too-brief holiday. Sophie pondered the school situation. Thorliff was assisting Pastor Solberg by substituting at the high school, and Isabelle Rumly had all the grade school children. But it was obviously more than any of them could handle; seven new pupils had entered the system since last year.

  “I sure hope we can fill those teacher positions before school starts again,” Sophie said as she and her aunt Penny walked back to their places of business.

  “Who would have thought last summer that we would need two more new teachers this year?” Penny said.

  “Life has changed in Blessing, that’s for sure. But that should be no surprise. We’ve been through a lot the last couple of years.” Sophie looked toward the grain elevator that had been rebuilt after it exploded and nearly took half of Blessing with it, all due to a man smoking against orders. An apartment house and various other homes had grown up to add to the town. An expansion of the deaf school, to the north of town, would be starting as soon as possible. They hoped to have it weather-proofed before winter.

  “We have to make plans on how to get our new schoolhouse built too.” Sophie leaned closer to Penny. “The way the men are dragging their feet on this, it looks to be up to us women to get it rolling. I’m going to have a women’s gathering at my house next week. I’ll make it sound like a party, but we can begin the plans. What do you think?”

  “We need to start with ideas to make money. You know that is what is holding the men back.”

  “I know. I’ll ask everyone to come prepared.”

  “And let the men think we are sneaking behind their backs?”

  Sophie shrugged. “We just have to get it started. We need two new teachers—actually three: another for the high school unless Thorliff wants to stay on. He’s doing a good job, but teaching isn’t his dream.”

  “Neither is being a wounded widower.” Penny sniffed. “Life sure is hard at times.”

  “Having lost a husband, I know how he feels. When that boat went down and took Hamre with it, I thought I would die too. I was living all alone out there in Seattle and wanted to come home to Blessing so bad, but I was terrified of what people would think of me after the sneaky way I left.”

  Penny patted her shoulder. “Like Ingeborg says, God often works in spite of us. When we lived in Bismarck for that year, I kept dreaming of coming home too. I could not make myself see Bismarck as home. I missed my family here, and my store, so when Hjelmer decided to not run for office again, I was overjoyed.”

  The two parted, Sophie to go to the boardinghouse and Penny to return to her store.

  Chapter 3

  School’s out for the summer, Grandma! What are we gonna do today?” Inga asked. “Can we go fishing?” Emmy and Inga danced around Ingeborg, clapping and giggling. Emmy was ten, almost eleven, and Inga had just turned eight. Inga had run, not walked, to the farm as soon as school was dismissed the day before, and stayed.

  Ingeborg drew in her chin in mock dismay. “Fishing? Why would we ever want to go fishing when there are weeds to pull and . . . and besides, no one has dug worms yet.”

  “I’ll call Carl.” Emmy ran to the telephone and climbed up on the low bench Haakan had made for the grandchildren to reach the sink, cupboards, and telephone.

  Inga clapped her hands over her mouth to try to stifle a giggle when Clara motioned to the baby boy sleeping in the sling she wore on her back.

  “Sorry, I forgot about him.” She grabbed Ingeborg’s hands and they spun in a circle. “Can Clara go too?” She stopped and looked at Clara. “Do you know how to catch fish?”

  Clara signed back “No, never went fishing.”

  Inga stared at her, mouth in an O of horror. “You never went fishing? Not ever?”

  When Clara shook her head, Inga turned to Ingeborg. “Grandma, she has to learn how to catch fish. Can’t Clara come too?”

  Clara shook her head and motioned to the baby on her back again. Then signed “No, no.”

  “Carl will be here as fast as he can run,” Emmy announced. “I’ll go start digging worms. Inga, you get the fishing poles.”

  Ingeborg grinned at Clara. “Since we went fishing the last two years on their first day after school was out for the summer, this is no surprise. We should be able to have a fish fry for supper, but go ahead and start the stew anyway. We can always have that tomorrow.”

  When the sling moved and whimpered, Clara smiled.

  Never had Ingeborg seen a young mother more entranced with her baby than Clara. Every day he seemed to do something new, bringing love-light to his mother’s eyes. She had blossomed like the sunflowers that lined the garden fence last fall, their heads so heavy with seeds they had needed to be tied to the fence to keep from toppling over.

  How did a mute name her newborn son? Ingeborg had long puzzled over the problem as Clara’s delivery approached. But when the baby was born, Clara solved the problem herself. For hours she went page by page through every book she could find. Freda was the only one in the house the day Manny came in from school, plunked his books on the table, and headed out to the barn to do his chores. Clara, Freda said, stared open-mouthed at the book on top of the pile for the longest time. Then she ran to her room, where the baby was sleeping. She snatched the infant up and brought him to the kitchen. She thumped the book with her index finger, pointed to her baby, and then thumped the book again.

 
Freda had no idea what the girl was saying; then she caught on. The book was called Martin Van Buren, a Life. “Martin. Is that what you’ve named your baby? Martin?”

  Clara had beamed, her head bobbing up and down.

  While she had never mentioned the baby’s father, sometimes in the long evenings of the winter, Clara mentioned her life in Norway before she came to America four years earlier at the age of fourteen to work for a family. From the sounds of things, life in Norway had not been any easier than life here, or vice versa. One time she had made a reference to life before she went mute. Ingeborg and Kaaren were always puzzling on ways to help her regain the use of her vocal cords.

  “Something terrible must have happened to her to make her go mute,” Kaaren said once. She had read all she could find on aphasia voluntaria, the scientific term, but no one held out much hope. But Clara learned to sign in English and finally to write in English, proving that she was intelligent and should not always have to rely on doing heavy manual work.

  “You go nurse him now before we leave,” Ingeborg urged the young woman, “although Freda won’t be out in the cheese house all day.”

  “You will take food?” Clara signed. When Ingeborg nodded, Clara signed “I will make sandwiches.”

  Ingeborg had given up trying to argue with Clara. Instead, she lifted Martin from the sling and went to change his diaper. She never tired of seeing him laugh, wave his arms, and try to imitate the sounds she made to him while she cleaned him up. As miserably as Clara had been treated, such a happy and healthy baby was near miraculous.

  Sandwiches were wrapped in a towel, cookies in a napkin, and a jug of pink water joined the food in the basket. Ingeborg thanked Clara.