A Season of Grace Read online

  “It was an accident.”

  “Of course. Why don’t you go show the folks where to park their wagons?”

  “Far is doing that. He said to come help you.”

  “I see.”

  “You go get your far so we can greet people as they come.” Signe nodded for Knute to do as she asked.

  The Bensons were the first to arrive and stopped their buggy to help carry food over. “I think most of Benson’s Corner is on their way here. We’ve not had a party like this in far too long a time,” Mrs. Benson said. They set baskets on both tables before Mr. Benson drove off to park the buggy. “I made something new—a baked corn casserole that we could not get enough of when I made it for us.”

  Signe lifted the lid off the casserole dish to take a sniff. “Smells wonderful. Are you sharing the recipe?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Benson pointed to a large flat pan that was covered with a dish towel. “The smoked venison you told me about?” At Signe’s nod, she continued. “You know, Bjorn could earn himself some money bringing in deer. Has he ever brought down a moose?”

  “Not yet, but he has hopes.”

  “Where would you like us to put the presents?” Reverend Skarstead asked Rune when he met them on the porch.

  “Presents? We don’t need—” Rune stopped when their guest shook his head.

  “Housewarmings mean presents, so where?”

  “In the big room, I guess. There’s nothing else there yet, not even a table.”

  “That’ll do fine. It’s hard to believe you even got this painted.”

  “All of this is thanks to so many of the people who are driving up. Last Saturday, four people showed up to help us paint. They even brought their own paintbrushes. How do we begin to thank everyone?”

  “Just be part of a work party for someone else. I heard your names on the list for helping the Skagens get their hay in before the rain, so you’ll be fine. As soon as everyone is here, we’ll say a blessing over your house and then have supper.”

  Rune nodded. “Takk. Tusen takk.”

  Signe saw big, burly Petter Thorvaldson dismounting his horse. That would please Nilda. Where was she? Ah, over there by the food tables. Petter went over and spoke to her specifically. Signe smiled.

  The English teacher, Fritz Larsson, rode into the yard on horseback. His thatch of brown hair always looked like it could use more combing, but it was especially windblown today, as he was not wearing a hat. He dismounted and unhooked a big, lumpy burlap bag from his saddle. Straight as an arrow, he crossed the yard to Nilda. They spoke. Smiling brightly, she nodded and pointed toward the house. Fritz handed her his horse’s reins and went into the house, but moments later he came back out, still carrying the loaded burlap sack. They talked, smiling and nodding. What were they saying? Signe was dying to know, but she had a party to host. She would try to bring up the subject with Nilda later.

  Someone, or several someones, had brought chairs, and a bench held more gifts. Signe was stunned by the sheer number of people gathering here. And to think she had worried that no one would show up.

  Petter was talking to Reverend Skarstead, and he suddenly let loose a piercing whistle. Reverend Skarstead waved, and folks made their way to the back porch of the new house. The reverend asked Rune to gather his family and raised his arms for silence.

  “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate this family as they move into their new house and make it a home. As Rune said, so many of you have helped build this house, and for that, we all offer thanks. This is what the family of God can be for each other as we walk in love as He first loved us. First we will bless the house—if you have not gone inside yet, feel free to do so. Then we will bless the food, and the party begins. I hope you brought your dancing shoes, as I know we will have dancing music later. Rune, did you want to say a word or two?”

  Rune swallowed and cleared his throat. “Takk. Thank you for all your help in building, roofing, even painting. We would not have been able to sleep in our new house last night if not for your generosity, which now includes that pile of gifts in there.” He paused for a moment that Kirstin, in her mor’s arms, decided to fill with her happy chatter.

  When the laughter died down, Reverend Skarstead raised his arms again. “Gracious heavenly Father, we thank thee for this special day so filled with joy and gratitude. We cannot thank thee enough for all you have given us, but one way we do is to share what we have with others. We ask you to bless this house and all those who will live within these walls. Let love bloom here in this season of grace, give good health and wisdom and a desire in all of us to seek your will and learn from your word. Set up a guard around this place so that all that is done here may be done for your glory. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

  And everyone shouted, “Amen!”

  The people shouted and laughed and clapped. Then they quieted again for the table grace, which those who knew it said together in Norwegian. “I Jesu navn gär vi til bords. . . . Amen.”

  “The tables are set up on the other side of the house, so bring your plates and eating utensils and enjoy yourselves,” the reverend announced.

  Signe smiled and nodded, feeling like she was overflowing with a stream of joy that rose up through the soles of her feet and covered everyone. She almost feared her cheeks would crack from it. She and Nilda wove their way through the groups of people, offering drinks and answering questions. Gerd sat on a chair with a quilt in front of her for Kirstin and two other babies to sit or lie on. Two young girls played with the babies. The lines continued on both sides of the tables as everyone served themselves and found places to sit on benches, chairs, or the ground.

  “Can we go play in the haymow?” Leif asked, two other boys beside him.

  “Ja, you can, but don’t let the hay slide out the door,” Rune said.

  “We won’t.”

  That group of boys ran off, and Knute appeared at Rune’s side. “Can we play ball? Mr. Larsson brought the balls and bats from school.”

  Ah, so that was what was in his lumpy burlap sack. Signe smiled.

  “Of course,” Rune said. “How about out in the front pasture? That’s not been used recently. You might ask Ivar and Bjorn to round up some of the older boys. You can use old feed sacks for bases.”

  Soon the shouts from a ball game echoed back to the women cleaning up from the meal. Most of the men had followed the ball game and could be heard playing and cheering. As the sun sank closer to the distant treetops, the crickets struck up their song, and the musicians began tuning their instruments.

  “I noticed Mr. Larsson watching you,” Signe whispered to Nilda as they put lids back on pots and pans.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Mrs. Benson leaned closer. “No, it was Petter Thorvaldson who was paying her the most attention.”

  “Enough. You’re going to embarrass me.”

  “There are other single men here too,” Mrs. Benson continued. “I know that nice Mr. Kielund needs a mother for his two little ones. You caught his attention right off.”

  “I swear, if you two keep this up, I will go hide in the attic and not come out until everyone is gone.”

  Signe shrugged and made her way over to the quilt, where she picked up Kirstin and nuzzled her cheek.

  Mrs. Engelbrett picked up her little boy. “She sure overcame that rough beginning, didn’t she?”

  “Thanks to your help.”

  “I was so grateful I could do that for her. I sure rejoiced when Mrs. Benson told me your milk had come back in. Such grand news. I have a few dresses my Lacy outgrew. I kept them for another baby, but Arnie here won’t take to wearing dresses much longer. Now that he’s crawling, he tangles up in the shifts.”

  “Tante Gerd made Kirstin some short shifts. They make crawling easier, and she sure can scoot across the floor now. Every time she sees one of the cats, she makes a beeline for it, and Rufus thinks she is the best thing next to a dog. He just moves away when sh
e pulls his tail or his ears. The other day I found him sound asleep beside her on the quilt in a patch of sunshine. What a picture they made.”

  “If you like, I will keep the little ones up at the other house so you can enjoy the party,” Gerd offered. “Perhaps a couple of the older girls would like to help me.”

  Mrs. Engelbrett smiled. “That is a fine idea, Mrs. Strand. I remember we used to put all the children lined up like cordwood on the bed when they grew tired.”

  Several of the mothers, including Signe, joined Gerd on the walk to the other house and settled their little ones in after nursing or a bottle. Two girls helped take care of toddlers and small children, even helping them go to sleep on pallets on the floor.

  Meanwhile, down at the party, after the musicians tuned up their instruments, the baseball game closed down and the folks all gathered around the dance area.

  “We’ll start out with a polka tonight to get everyone in the dancing mood,” Mr. Garborg on the guitar announced. “A-one and a-two . . .”

  Petter grabbed Nilda’s hand, and they joined the others, fast-stepping to the beat. While the night was cooling, the heat that rose from the dancers had everyone mopping their foreheads after a couple of dances.

  Mr. Kielund asked Nilda to join in a square dance, and the slim, graceful Mr. Larsson lucked out in a waltz. As he twirled her under his arm, Nilda smiled up at him. Signe caught the smile as she and Rune turned in front of them.

  “They are good,” she whispered to Rune.

  “Nilda has always been a graceful dancer, don’t you remember?”

  “Ja, and I never really was.” She flinched as she set her foot in the wrong spot. “Oops.”

  “Sorry. Hope I didn’t hurt your toes.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” She caught Nilda smiling up at Mr. Larsson again. They did make a nice-looking couple.

  When the musicians called for a break, Signe sat down beside Nilda. “You look to be having a fine time.”

  “My feet are screaming at my shoes.” Nilda dabbed her face with the edge of her skirt.

  “Well, you are the belle of the ball, and I expect you to enjoy yourself.”

  Nilda watched the gathering for a few moments, a somber look on her face. “None of these young men are like Dreng. They’re polite. Well-mannered.”

  “You mentioned something about a young man in Norway making inappropriate advances, but you didn’t say much about it. That one?”

  “Ja.” Nilda sucked in a breath. “I guess he frightened me more than I realized. I still think about him sometimes.” She added hastily, “Not in a nice way.”

  “I would have been terrified.”

  Nilda nodded. “I was, ja. His mor called me awful names, of course, but later his far sent him off to America. Dreng blamed me and threatened me.”

  “He’s here?”

  “Surely not here. America is vast. But he’s somewhere. I pray I’ll never see him again. And I burned the note he sent swearing he would get me.”

  “Oh, dear. I didn’t know it was that serious.”

  Nilda firmed up her voice. “It’s all behind me. I must dismiss it. I see that someone brought punch. You want a glass?”

  As if by magic, two glasses appeared in front of them from the hands of Petter. “Thought you might appreciate these about now.”

  Signe took one of the glasses. “Thank you, that was most kind.”

  He sat down on the other side of Nilda. “You’re welcome. Thank you for hosting such a grand party. Even in Blackduck there are not a lot of dances.”

  When the music started again, he and Nilda were the first couple out. Signe noticed that Mr. Larsson did not look happy, but then, he didn’t smile a lot anyway. When she danced with him later, she realized he did not talk much either, only please and thank you. But he was a marvelous dancer.

  They danced polkas and waltzes, schottisches and traditional Norwegian dances, square dances and round dances. Small boys danced with their mors, and fars danced with their little daughters, who stood on top of their feet. But as the younger children succumbed to sleep, both in the house and on the porch, families began to gather up their children, the kettles and baskets they’d brought, and head out.

  Signe and Rune made sure to thank each person both for coming and for helping at some point on the house.

  “If you need someone to nail up walls, just let me know,” Mr. Garborg, their neighbor to the west on the lake, offered. “My boys are pretty handy with hammers too.”

  “Thank you again, and for taking the boys fishing too. They had such a good time.”

  Mr. Garborg smiled. “Always more fun when you catch fish. We need to do it again one day. School’s going to be here before we know it.”

  When everyone had left, Leif looked up at Signe. “I didn’t get to dance with Tante Gerd.”

  “Well, maybe next time.” She patted his shoulder. “You need to get to bed. Morning will come early.”

  “It always does.”

  “Ah, this bed feels good,” Rune whispered a few minutes later. “That was some housewarming.”

  “I think Nilda wishes for a pan of hot water to soak her feet.”

  “Watching her and Mr. Larsson dancing together made me wish I had learned more.”

  “Some people are cut out to be dancers, and some are not.”

  Rune nudged her. “Are you saying I am in the ‘not’ category?”

  Signe smiled. “Perhaps it’s implied, but all your other good assets more than make up for it.”

  “I think that was a compliment.”

  “It was indeed.” She paused to listen to Kirstin snuffle and wiggle in her bed, then settle back down. By that time, Rune was snoring gently. A breeze from the open window blew cool air over her skin. What a party indeed.

  Chapter

  3

  Counting stars, let alone sheep, was not working.

  Nilda rolled onto her right side and let the dancing fill her mind. Never had she enjoyed an evening more—never laughed more, never danced anywhere near that much and especially with so many different men, most of whom she’d not met before they asked her to dance. And such interesting conversations, several where all she had to do was nod and smile. Like the young man who wanted to go on fishing boats in Duluth but his parents wouldn’t let him. They said he was too young. As far as Nilda was concerned, he should still be in school.

  She rolled onto her left side. Mr. Kielund made her sad. He so desperately needed a wife to take care of his two small children; his wife had died in childbirth along with the baby. He made his living with his draft team, hauling logs or doing farm work like haying and harvesting for other farmers. Nilda knew for certain that although he seemed like a good man, she was not cut out to be his wife. Not that she had any idea who her future husband might be, but after tonight, she felt certain she would find the right man. Someday.

  She flopped onto her back. The two men she already knew had managed to dance with her the most often. Petter Thorvaldson, their blond friend from the ship, made her laugh the most. He wanted her to encourage Ivar to spend the winter in a logging camp, like he planned to do. She had a feeling that with any encouragement she would see Mr. Thorvaldson far more often, even if he did live and work in Blackduck.

  Winter in a lumber camp screamed of danger. Cutting down their own trees was dangerous enough with one falling at a time, let alone many. While she’d thought of hiring on as a cook’s helper, after the stories she’d heard, she would only do so as a last resort. She got the idea that a lumber camp was not a great place to meet future husbands.

  Heaving a sigh, she threw off the sheet and went to kneel in front of the window to feel the cooling breeze. It felt so good, she dragged her pallet over and lay back down.

  Mrs. Benson had teased her about all the attention and warned her to be careful and, above all, patient. And Mr. Larsson would make a fine husband. She’d managed to slip that idea in several times. Nilda simply grinned at the ceiling.
The slight, trim Mr. Larsson was a wonderful dancer, but he was a better teacher than conversationalist. From their encounters, she had come to believe he loved teaching more than anything else. How his eyes lit up when someone finally understood what he was trying to explain.

  Her eyes drifted closed. The waltz she had danced with Mr. Fritz Larsson—now that was something to remember.

  Sunday morning was like other Sunday mornings—chores, cleanup, breakfast, and getting everyone in the wagon before Rune hollered the second time. As always, Kirstin managed to need a diaper change just as they were about to leave. Leif closed the door after his mor so that Rufus would stay in the house and not follow them. They heard him barking as they drove down the lane. Gerd in the wagon with them—that was the biggest change.

  “You could have put the dog in one of the stalls in the barn,” Bjorn said.

  “They’re all full. I moved the last of the hens and her chicks into one this morning. That hen got me good.” Leif showed the raw wound on his hand. “At least it quit bleeding.”

  Kirstin reached for his hand, jabbering at him, drool running down her chin. He let her guide his finger to her mouth and chew.

  “Ouch. You know how to use those teeth now.” He jerked his hand back. “Bad enough the hen bit me, but now you too?”

  His little sister frowned at him, sniffed, and worked into crying.

  “You don’t have to yell at her,” Knute said with a frown.

  “I didn’t yell. She bit me hard.” Leif shook his head. “Sorry, K, you didn’t mean to hurt me, I know.” He reached for her, and she snuggled into his arms for a moment, then grabbed his hair to help her stand up, knocking his hat off and giggling when it fell. He picked it up and set it on her head. Looking up at the brim, she waved her fist in the air and fell into his arms.

  Nilda watched them play and watched Gerd turn and smile down at them from her place on the wagon seat. This was one well-loved baby, with the sunniest of dispositions, unless she didn’t get fed on time.

  As usual, Mrs. Benson met them at the door to claim Kirstin for her customary cuddle and hug. To Signe’s obvious relief, Kirstin fell asleep soon after the service began. Mrs. Benson needed grandchildren, but she sure was enjoying the Carlson children for the time being.