Streams of Mercy Read online

  “Surprise doesn’t begin to cover it.” She tried to sniff back the tears and failed utterly. Sobbing into his jacket front, she blubbered, “I’m so glad you are here. I was getting worried—you didn’t write—and we didn’t know . . .” She smacked his upper arm. “Wait until the others see you! They are going to . . . to . . .” She shook her head and stepped back to wipe her eyes. “I am so glad to see you.”

  “Could have fooled me.” Trygve set the lids back in place. “Are you hungry?”

  Tonio stepped back. “Starved. I didn’t have any more money to buy food. I brought what I could with me.”

  “What happened to your job?”

  “They changed foremen, and the new one wanted his own guys on the crew, so they asked if I wanted to go work down on the steamships, but I decided it was time to come west. You all sounded far too happy in your letters, and I was sick and tired of being all by myself in Chicago.”

  “You could have gone to work at the hospital.”

  “I know. I thought of talking to them, and then I just wanted to see you all. I’ve never lived alone before, and I didn’t like it at all. I even moved to a smaller flat, but . . .” He shook his head. “Besides all that, one man came in drunk to work and fell down, and his load knocked me over. We could have been really hurt. I was so mad at him that I could have kicked him when he was moaning on the ground. What a fool.”

  Miriam slid his jacket off and took it to the hooks by the door. “You go wash, and I’ll get you something to eat. The bathroom is that way. Do you have a suitcase?” She glanced at the clock and then at her husband. “I know it’s a bit early, but do you want dinner now too?”

  “Why not. What are we having?”

  “The leftover soup, and I’ll fry a couple of cheese sandwiches. The venison roast is for tonight.” She eyed the box and carpetbag by the door. “That’s it?”

  “You all took most of the other stuff.” He headed out the arched door to the hall. “I gave the rest away.”

  “Smart man.” Trygve picked up the box and bag. “I’ll take these upstairs. Wait until Este finds out he has a roommate now.”

  “Wait until the girls see who is here. We have to hide him.” Somehow a grin had found its way to her face and just kept stretching her cheeks. Her family was all together again. Her mother must be dancing in heaven to know her children were safe and out of that horrid tenement. When the two men returned to the kitchen, she handed them each a cup of hot coffee and pointed toward the table. “The rest will be ready in a minute.”

  “Cream? Sugar?” Trygve asked.

  “I could try it, I suppose. We never had that choice.”

  Trygve fetched the cream pitcher from the icebox and set it next to the sugar bowl. Then he grabbed a teaspoon from the pint jar next to the butter dish. He lifted the lid to the cookie jar. “Ingeborg has been here.”

  “No, Mercy baked those yesterday after school. We do know how to cook and bake here too, you know.” She loved coming home from work to the fragrance of cookies baking. It reminded her of her months of living with the Jeffers family, where Mrs. Jeffers made sure her cookie jar was always full. Hospitality was one of the things she had learned early in Blessing. The coffeepot was always on, and no matter where you went, cookies or cake or some other treat would appear as if by magic. Ingeborg Bjorklund made the best bread and the best cheese. Amelia Jeffers had the corner on roses and lemonade. Rebecca Valders could be counted on for sodas and ice cream all summer long and into the fall. And Miriam’s now mother-in-law, Kaaren Knutson, made sure meat appeared in their icebox.

  With the soup steaming in the bowls and the golden sandwiches on a plate beside, she grabbed the coffeepot and, after refilling the cups, took her place at the table so Trygve could say grace.

  “I didn’t know you even knew how to do all this.” Tonio’s eyes twinkled. “You were always at the hospital.”

  “Only those last two years.”

  “But you worked there before that.”

  Trygve cleared his throat, one eyebrow arched, and said the Norwegian grace she was still trying to learn. They all said amen, and she watched as her brother took a bite of sandwich and dug into the soup.

  “We have plenty, Tonio. And there is no hurry, at least not today.”

  “So what do you want to do?” Trygve asked. “You can go back to school if you’d like, or you can join a construction crew, or you can talk to Daniel about the training he is running at the machinery plant.”

  “You have a machinery plant here?”

  “We do. They produce seed drills and adapters farmers can attach to their own machinery. I have a feeling that Daniel has something else he is planning. That’s why the training.”

  “Is there pay while in training?”

  “I guess I don’t know. He hired experienced men at first to work all the machinery needed to make the drills, but he is constantly looking ahead and coming up with new plans.”

  “He inherited his father’s skills at inventing too, so who knows what all he will come up with.” Miriam sighed and just sat watching her brother eat, her smile still firmly affixed. “I think you are going to like it here, dear brother. I know I do, and now the others do too. Wait until you hear them rave about the school here and how nice the people are. How about after we eat I take you on a tour about town?”

  “I have a feeling I won’t have to worry about getting lost.”

  “Not until a blizzard hits.” Trygve lifted his bowl in a plea for more.

  “Oh, sorry. Of course.” Miriam refilled all three of their bowls. As she set the bowls back down, she smiled at her husband. “I think tonight you should take Tonio over and introduce him to the cows and the milking.”

  “Oh you do, do you?” Trygve turned back to Tonio, who looked between the two, as if trying to figure out the joke. “I think we’ll save that for another day.” Trygve shoved back his chair. “I need to get to work, so I’ll see you tonight after your big tour. But you better be careful, Miriam, when you show him around. You know how fast news travels in Blessing. If you really want to surprise the others, that is.”

  Miriam nodded. “Good point. Did you sleep on the train?”

  “Not much.”

  “Then perhaps you would like to take a hot bath and sleep for a while.”

  “I saw the bathtub. Do you have hot water here too?”

  “We do. Trygve made sure we have a good stove and indoor plumbing with a hot water heater, and he even wired our house so when electricity comes to Blessing, we will be ready.”

  “It’s all so hard to believe. And going back to something you said earlier—could I really go back to school if I wanted?”

  Trygve shrugged into his coat. “You could. Or there might even be people here who would have evening classes for you if you would rather work with Daniel during the day. I’ll talk to him and you can meet him in the morning.” He kissed his wife good-bye and headed out the door.

  “Pinch me. I think I must be dreaming.” Miriam held out her arm, but Tonio waved her away.

  “A real bath. I saw the tub. Have I ever washed in a tub that big?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but we don’t have enough hot water to fill that tub to the brim.”

  “It would slosh over then.” Tonio leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for a full stomach right now, and whatever you have in the oven smells mighty good for supper. Let’s forgo the tour today. I want to surprise the others.”

  Miriam nodded and watched her brother leave the room. Tonio was here to stay—like the rest of them. Surely Mum and Da were celebrating too—if people in heaven really could know what was happening to their loved ones on earth. Perhaps she should ask Reverend Solberg or Father Devlin. Could be an interesting discussion. Now she was feeling a bit like Trygve’s niece, little Inga of the inquisitive mind.

  CHAPTER 3

  And how be ye on this fine day?” Thomas Devlin sounded as cheerful as ever.

  “Cold, like everyo
ne else. I am convinced that the north wind is colder in North Dakota than it is in Norway.” Anji unwrapped her scarf, but when she started to shrug out of her wool coat, he stepped behind her to help her. Having a man help her off with her coat was something she had missed after her husband died. Ivar had always had such genteel manners. She rubbed her hands together. “So my class is ready?”

  “They are indeed.”

  Anji had agreed to teach a class on Norwegian history on Wednesdays starting the first of the year, followed by a class on the Norwegian language. Since not everyone in the high school had learned Norwegian as a child, her class was quite a mixture. The beginners were learning the language, and the others were improving their language skills and their grammar.

  He opened the door into the classroom and then closed it behind her.

  “Gud dag.”

  “Gud dag,” her ten students replied.

  “Everyone talks about the Vikings and their raids. No wonder; it’s exciting! However, let’s start with what happened in Norway after the Vikings. Then when we look at the Viking period, from 793 to 1066, you will see not only the impact they made on all of Europe, but also how Europe changed the Norse.” She stepped to the blackboard and wrote the years upon it.

  By the time the class ended, the discussion on the role Norway played in world trade, and especially in inland Europe, was only half finished. Anji smiled at her students. “We’ll continue during our next class. Thank you. I am really enjoying teaching you this. You are splendid students.”

  “Did you have a class like this when you were our age?” one of her students asked.

  “No. I learned most of Norwegian history from my husband. He loved history, and for years he wrote about the immigrants coming to America and how their lives changed. He made sure I had books to read, and he loved to tell the ancient stories, especially of the Vikings. We have much to look forward to here.”

  The bell rang and, at her nod, everyone stood up for their break.

  She had known very little about Blessing’s schools when she arrived, other than to get her children enrolled, and now here she was teaching! America was indeed a land of opportunity. She was teaching at the high school level, and she also learned in passing that Thomas Devlin now taught reading, writing, and arithmetic in the grade school—in addition to teaching Latin, world history, and advanced math at the high school—so that Reverend Solberg, who used to teach the smaller children, could spend full time on his duties as the growing school’s principal.

  A few minutes later her pupils gathered for their language class. After introducing the vocabulary words and common phrases for the day, explaining their meaning, and having everyone repeat them after her, she walked around the room, pointing to the windows, the door, the furniture, even to clothes they were wearing. She said the word, singular and plural, and then drilled them as fast as they could respond. It became a game of sorts, a competition. Door! Shirt! Shoe! Window! The last part of class time the students paired up, one who spoke Norwegian at home and one or two who didn’t, and practiced bits of conversation.

  She spoke only Norwegian during the last part of the class when they were practicing. Just before the bell was to ring, she smiled at everyone. “You are learning so quickly, I am really proud of you. Tusen takk. Ha det; vi snakkes.” Thank you very much. Good-bye. Talk to you later. This was great fun!

  After the last classes of the day, the three teachers met in the office before leaving for their homes.

  “Well, Mrs. Moen, it sounded like your students are not only progressing but also having a good time at it,” Reverend Solberg said with a wide smile.

  Anji rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Moen?”

  “That is who you are here, whether I taught you as Anji Baard or not.”

  “Did you ever dream that your early students would return to teach here?”

  “I guess every teacher hopes for that. Thorliff has taught a few classes on journalism. Sophie did one on Seattle and the fishing and lumbering. Fishing and lumbering are both foreign concepts to some of the children. Grace, of course, teaches sign language, and Astrid speaks on hygiene and answers medical kinds of questions. So actually my former students get put to work a lot. But you, teaching a formal ongoing class like this, is a first.”

  “I am honored. And now that all the children are home, I need to get back to help Rebecca.” Anji stood.

  Since Anji and her children lived with Rebecca and Gerald, whose house was one of the first ones repaired after the devastating fire, the place was plenty full when all the schoolchildren came home.

  “I’ll walk you home.” Thomas Devlin fetched her coat and held it for her. “See you tomorrow, John. I shut the dampers on the stoves.”

  “Thanks. I have some more to do here. Tomorrow we need to talk about building a storage shed to free up that extra room. Storage is a poor use to make of class space.” He waved them out the door.

  Anji walked close to Mr. Devlin on the downwind side. It was not much protection against the cold, but any little bit helped. “How is your woodworking class going? Ingeborg said Manny has to tell her all about it when he gets home.”

  “Ah, ’tis a rare pleasure. Grace’s idea to combine hearing and deaf students is working well.”

  Anji frowned. “But you don’t sign yet, at least not fluently. How do you instruct the deaf students?”

  “Just as I instruct the hearing students—by showing them how to do it. Wood and tools speak the same language in the doing. Haakan got Manny started well with whittling and carving, and now the students are each constructing a workbench, using only pegs, no metal. And the older boys are learning mortise and tenon. I think next we’ll do a general class project building the bookcases for the classroom that will be in the new wing of the deaf school.”

  Even though her cheeks stung from the wind in spite of her long wool scarf, Anji enjoyed the Wednesday walks with this man, short though they were. “Have you ever thought of teaching them to repair broken things?”

  He stopped and stared at her, nodding all the while. “Now that be a very fine idea. I will ask Kaaren if she has anything needing repair. Put the lads to work on it.”

  “Folks around here are so handy, there might not be a lot.”

  “True.”

  She studied him for a moment. The jovial face seemed to carry some secret woe. “Some people address you as Father Devlin. You’re certain you are not a Catholic?”

  He cackled. “Absolutely. I not be so sure the Mother Church would have me. Nae, I be Anglican by ordination, and wild hare by nature. I’m not practicing as a priest at the moment, except on those rare occasions, of course, when a priest be needed.” He kicked the slushy snow off his boots at the house steps and followed her up to the porch.

  “Won’t you come in?”

  “Thankee, but not today. I promised Maisie Landsverk I would fix the drain in the boardinghouse kitchen. Mrs. Sam also has need of me, and she makes the best apple fritters I’ve ever met.”

  “Then I shall see you Sunday.”

  “There be a gathering at Thorliff’s on Saturday. I shall go. Would ye join me?”

  “That sounds like fun. I would love to.” The last gathering at Thorliff’s had gone from games into a sing-along with Elizabeth playing the piano. She watched her escort stop halfway down the short walk and turn to wave at her. She waved back.

  What a fine man. It was a shame she wasn’t on the lookout for another man. Anji! She chided herself as she turned and entered the house to hear children’s laughter, including the chortles of her youngest, Annika, and Mark, Rebecca’s tot, who at fifteen months was trying to run after the others. She hung up her outer clothes and peeked into the hall, where Benny was giving the two little ones rides on his wagon—Benny’s wheels, as they all called the low cart that had made him mobile since the amputation of his legs. Out in public he usually used his wooden artificial legs. Around the house, he frequently used his strong arms to simply drag his stump legs
along.

  “Ma!” shrieked Annika, waving her arms. “Look at me!”

  “I see you.” She crossed to the stairs and sat down on the third step. Annika and Mark raced each other, Annika falling into her arms first. Coming home to a welcome like this always made going out easier. She sat the two little ones on either side of her and hugged eight-year-old Gilbert next. He looked so much like his father, she wondered at times if she had had anything to do with creating him. His grandmother, Eunice, in Norway had shown her pictures of Ivar at this age, sitting on a settee, wearing a much embroidered and tucked pants and a shirt in a light color, with blond ringlets. Eunice said he too had been a happy child.

  “I got a hundred on my spelling paper today,” Melissa announced. She was almost ten and was Anji’s sober child, always taking her responsibilities seriously. She had inherited her father’s curls too, although this last year hers had become dark honey. “Benny did too.”

  “I almost missed one.” Benny sat on his cart, leg stumps resting on the floor. He shook his head. “Arithmetic is always easier.” He cocked his head. “How come you don’t teach in our room?”

  Annika wiggled to be let down; she had sat still for about as long as she could. Anji dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she ran off. Little Mark reached up his arms. Sitting in a lap was his favorite place, no matter whose. Since his mother was busy, Anji was happy to accommodate him.

  “I’m putting the coffee on,” Rebecca called from the kitchen. “Pie and cookies will be out in a minute.”

  Benny and Lissa, as they usually called her, grinned at each other and headed for the kitchen. The others followed, like lemmings after the Pied Piper.

  Mark popped his thumb in his mouth and leaned against her chest, heaving a contented sigh. Anji cuddled him close, rocking gently, listening to the ruckus going on in the kitchen as the others clambered up on the chairs around the table, Joseph telling Gilbert to wait his turn. In Norway the children had been confined to the nursery, allowed downstairs with the adults only at certain times. That was the way of the wealthier society, but not the way Anji wanted to raise her children. Ivar’s daughters by his first marriage had grown up with that and fitted into it quite comfortably, which was why she had agreed with their grandmother to leave them there. Life was comfortable for them there, but Blessing was home to her, with its energy and exuberance and its casual, easygoing approach to life. Mr. and Mrs. Moen had not been pleased with her decision. She regretted that, but not enough to remain in the stiff, strictured culture of Old Norway.