The Reaper's Song Page 7

  “Read?”

  “And write.”

  “Good.” Penny thought she’d better talk it over with Hjelmer before offering the man a job. She pushed her chair back and began clearing the table. The coins jingled in her apron pocket when she reached for the dirty plates. The clock in the sitting room chimed one o’clock.

  “Where is that man of mine?” she asked the steaming teakettle. She cut a piece of bread and laid the last two slices of cheese on it. After setting the sandwich aside for Hjelmer, she finished clearing the table, putting the dishes in the pan waiting on the cool end of the stove. She poured hot water over them, crumbled in a bit of the soft soap she kept for that purpose, and wiped off the table.

  Just as she dried her hands on her apron before taking it off to go look for Hjelmer, a yoo-hoo came from the front of the store.

  “Coming.” If only she could call Hjelmer as easily. Can’t they read the closed sign?

  Have you slept at all?” Lars Knutson raised his head from the pillow.

  Kaaren, his wife, sitting in the rocking chair with a whimpering girl in one arm and a nursing one in the other, shook her head. “Their throats hurt so they can hardly nurse. And they’ll have nothing to do with gruel and honey. Mumps are miserable for ones so little.”

  “And for their mother.” He threw back the sheet and climbed from the rope-slung bed. “I’ll walk one while you nurse the other, but I thought you had them about weaned.”

  “They were until they took sick.” She handed him Sophie, who was rubbing her eyes with her fists.

  Lars settled his daughter against his shoulder and began humming in her ear as he paced the floor. Three long strides and he’d covered it, detouring so as not to knock his shin on the rocker. He jiggled Sophie while he walked back to the bed, turned, and circled the oilcloth-covered table this time.

  Kaaren leaned her head against the back of the chair. Her eyes felt as if they held half the grit of the Dakota plains. And with all she had to do in the morning. Not that morning wasn’t already here. She rocked the chair gently and gazed down at her daughter. Grace sucked a moment, then whimpered. She never really cried, but her fist beating against her mother’s breast spoke well of her misery. Her cheeks were swollen to twice their normal size, and while her temperature had dropped, she was still plenty warm. Even though the twins were nearly two, being ill made them demand to nurse, then fuss while doing so.

  Kaaren stroked the soft hair back from where it lay plastered on the baby’s forehead. At the stroking, Grace opened her eyes, one half-swollen shut, and stared at her mother. “Oh, to be knowing what you would say, little one,” Kaaren whispered. Whispering, shouting, neither did any good. Grace was born the second twin and had never heard a sound.

  Kaaren shifted the child to the center of her chest, with Grace’s cheek against her mother’s throat. She always seemed to settle best in that position, and Kaaren resumed her humming. She kept the chair moving and let her eyes fall shut. As always, when Grace cuddled like this, Kaaren picked up where she had left off before Lars woke up. Heavenly Father, how do I help this little one thou hast given me? Thou art all-knowing, all-loving, my Father. Teach me about the world she lives in. How will she join in with other children? How do I keep her safe?

  Surely as if He stood right behind her—or was speaking heart to heart—she knew the words: You just love her and I will keep her safe.

  Kaaren felt the burn of tears behind her eyes and at the back of her nose. Both began to run. Father, I love her so much, and at the same time, I can’t leave anyone else out. She waited, peace stealing around her shoulders like love from a warm hand.

  Be not afraid. You are mine. Be not afraid.

  Kaaren wanted to fall on her knees. She wanted to sing and dance in a meadow of light. She wanted to praise her Lord.

  “Why are you crying?” Lars and Sophie stopped beside the rocker. Sophie lay against her father’s shoulder, a thumb barely held between slack lips. She sucked once and slept on.

  Kaaren shook her head, unable to speak.

  Lars wiped her tears with the edge of the sheet she had thrown over her shoulder. “I think we can put them back to bed, don’t you?”

  She nodded and sniffed. Was it really God who had spoken? She’d heard people say “God told me” this or that but never really believed she would hear Him, or feel Him, or whatever it was that had just happened. “Be not afraid,” He’d said. Had she been afraid?

  Lars laid Sophie in the bed first and then took Grace from her mother’s arms and laid her next to her sister. Before he had time to draw up the sheet, Sophie had put an arm across her twin, as she’d been doing since they were only weeks old. Kaaren stood beside Lars, marveling at the picture the two made. One dark, one fair, both with swollen cheeks and a bright flush on their round faces.

  Lars put his arm around Kaaren’s waist and drew her close to him. “I believe God has something special in mind for these two,” he whispered in his wife’s ear.

  “How do you come to know that?” Kaaren thought back to the early months when Lars couldn’t bear to hold Grace or even touch her.

  “I know this is strange, but it seemed a few minutes ago that God was walking right beside me. It was like I could hear Him or feel Him, and He said not to be afraid.” Lars spoke with a voice of wonder. “You think I am going crazy in these middle hours of the night?”

  Kaaren pulled a hanky out from her nightgown sleeve and blew her nose. The tears had slowed but still one followed another. “No, my husband, I believe we have been given a miracle, for I knew the same thing. That is why I cry.” She looked up to see tears in his eyes also. “We are so blessed. Two beautiful daughters and a fine healthy son. Maybe Trygve won’t catch the mumps.” But Kaaren knew that the way Grace and Sophie patted and kissed their nine-month-old brother, this was highly unlikely.

  Lars wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into his chest. Was God standing with His arms around them? She surely felt it was so. All she could think was Thank you, Father, thank you over and over until, back in bed, she fell asleep, safe in the crook of her husband’s arm.

  When she woke, she lay alone in the bed. She knew Lars was over milking cows in the big barn next to Ingeborg’s house. He had let her sleep. She looked around the room, wondering what had awakened her. The babies weren’t fussing. All was quiet in the soddy. She slipped from under the sheet and went to stand at the screen door.

  Outside, the hush before the sun broke the horizon lay gentle on her ears. Off across the pasture she could hear one of the men whistle for Thorliff’s dog, Paws. A cow mooed and another answered. A rooster crowed, and with the sound, the birds left off their twittering in the eaves and broke into their morning chorus, welcoming the sun and another day. Inhaling deeply of honeysuckle, roses, and morning dew made her sniff again.

  She reveled in the coolness of the hard-packed earth floor on her bare feet. After the heat of the last days, this morning’s freshness felt like a gift. While the soddy remained cooler than the frame house during the hot days, there were no windows to open for the cross breezes.

  The men promised to build her a house this fall. But the dark interior of the soddy didn’t bother Kaaren as it did Ingeborg. Once they had whitewashed the walls and sealed off the leaks in the roof, besides adding the lean-to, she loved her home.

  She dipped still-warm water from the reservoir into a pan, washed, and as soon as she’d dressed, wound her waist-length hair that Lars called liquid gold into the bun she wore at the base of her head. Sometimes she thought of trying a new hair style, but this way was so simple. A bun during the day, a long braid at night, except when Lars unbraided her hair and ran his fingers through the richness of it.

  The thought of what followed brought a warmth pooling in her belly. She looked at the face reflected in the small mirror Lars had brought one day from St. Andrew. The warmth had spread to her cheeks too. She smiled at the pinkness. They’d been married three years this month. And look a
t all the richness God had bestowed upon them. With her apron firmly tied about her waist, slim again after being stretched to far beyond what she’d thought skin could stretch, she went over to check on her three still-sleeping babies.

  As she looked down upon the twins, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The swelling was gone. They both lay on their sides, nestled together spoon fashion, and both tiny ears lay smooth against their heads, not lost in the mumps that had reminded her of chipmunks hoarding their seeds for the winter. Did mumps usually go away this quickly? Trygve lay in his usual position, rump in the air, knees bent underneath him as if ready to scoot out the door.

  She took the gift of extra moments, picked up her Bible, and went outside to sit on the bench beside the door. She turned to the Psalms, beginning with the first and reading it aloud to contribute her part to the swelling morning symphony. Praise the Lord, indeed. She could do no other. And when she closed her eyes in prayer, she promised, “God, I will store this night and day away in my heart, like thy Word says Mary did. I know it was so she could take it out and look at it again later when she needed the blessing.”

  Kaaren prayed for the sick children at Ingeborg’s—Andrew had shared his mumps with the others—and for Metiz who had not been feeling well. By the time she had prayed for the men and their work for the day, the family in Norway as Bridget prepared to leave home and come to the new country, her friends, the family all around them, she knew she’d better hurry to get breakfast on the table. Any day now harvest could begin and these few wondrous minutes would seem even more precious. She threw in a prayer for the quilting meeting on Saturday. It now looked as though she maybe could go. If the mumps really were gone.

  When Lars came home with a partial bucket of milk for their use, he set it on the counter along the wall and kissed her neck as she stood turning bacon at the stove.

  “Did last night really happen, or did I dream it all?” The breath of his soft words tickled her neck.

  “Go see.” She pointed to the babies’ bed.

  He returned, shaking his head. “Do children always get well this fast?”

  Kaaren shook her head and smiled up at him. “Just another of God’s miracles.”

  “And to think before I married you, I not only didn’t believe in miracles, but God seemed to be just a mighty person in a long story.” He sneaked a slice of crisp bacon off the warming shelf. “You want I should toast the bread?”

  Kaaren nodded. “That would be nice. There’s cream for the plum sauce, and the eggs will be ready in a minute.”

  She heard the first squeak from the twins. “And just in time too.”

  Penny?”

  She heard his voice but felt more like yelling or hiding than answering. Where in all that was necessary had he been? She glanced at the clock above the sink. Four o’clock. He’d been gone for more than six hours without mentioning at all that he might be gone.

  It seemed to Penny she had spent half her life waiting for Hjelmer Bjorklund. And all that in the two years she’d known him.

  Just then she heard the tinkle of the bell above the shop door. Instead of answering Hjelmer’s call, she pushed through the curtain hanging over the doorway that separated the store from the house. “Coming,” she called.

  Seeing no one in the store, Penny raised her voice. “Hello?”

  “Me here.”

  “Metiz!” Penny knew the voice. She hurried to the counter, checking each aisle as she went. “Where are you? This is the first time you’ve come to my store.” She found the woman studying the display of knives. With her black hair gone gray and her snapping dark eyes, she so often reminded Penny of a gray squirrel. The variety of knives were perfectly arranged in a circle on a square piece of wood, all the points meeting in the center. Penny extended her hand. “How have you been?”

  Metiz clasped Penny’s hand in both of hers. While gnarled and dark like walnut stain, the hands sent messages of both strength and comfort. The old woman looked deep into Penny’s eyes, then smiled, her eyes nearly disappearing within the folds and creases of skin.

  “No baby yet, but will come.” She patted Penny’s cheek. “No worry.”

  Penny started to say something, then stopped. She’d heard Metiz make statements like this before and found them to always come true. Had she been thinking about a baby? Not that she was aware of. After all, she and Hjelmer had only been married a couple of months.

  “What brings you to my store?”

  “Knife for Baptiste. Good knife.”

  “Does Baptiste know you are buying him a knife?”

  Metiz shook her head. “Surprise.”

  “Good. I had a surprise today.” Penny lifted the knife board down.

  “What?” Metiz stroked the handles of the knives with a reverent finger. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. I met a cousin today, a real honest-to-goodness member of my family. He came in looking for boots. Can you believe that? In my store.”

  “Cousin?” Metiz tipped her head just the slightest.

  “Cousin. He is the son of my father’s older sister.” With great effort Penny kept her feet from dancing out a tune on the wood floor.

  “He out back cutting wood?”

  Leave it to Metiz—she never missed a thing.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Big heap.”

  Penny grinned. “He doesn’t seem to mind hard work.” She dropped her voice. “I don’t remember my relatives, and I haven’t heard from anyone, brothers or sisters either, since my father and mother died and all the children were sent to different homes. I always thought I would find them one day.” She stared at the carved horn handle of one of the knives, then to Metiz. “Maybe the someday is beginning now.”

  “Family good. Friends good.” Metiz pointed to the skinning knife set in a carved bone handle. “That one good for boy.”

  Oh, that’s the most expensive knife I have. Now what to do? She knew Metiz wouldn’t have enough money to pay for it. She turned the board over and untied the thong that held the knife in the display.

  “How much?”

  “A lot. One of the other knives will cost less.”

  “No.” The old woman swung the pack from her shoulder to the floor. Bending over, she pulled out three rabbit-skin vests, two pairs of beaded moccasins from deer hide, and four knife sheaths, also from deerskin. “You need more?”

  Penny shook her head. “This is plenty.” She put the knife in one of the sheaths. “Here, this is yours now.”

  “Good.” Metiz tucked the knife and sheath back in her pack. “You sell. I make more.”

  “I’d be proud to trade with you.” Penny fingered the soft rabbit fur on the vests. “These are beautiful.” She set them on the shelf. “Come, I must write this all down.”

  “I walk around store, all right?” Metiz made a circular motion with her hand.

  “Of course.” Penny turned at the tinkle of the bell again. But when she looked up, she saw a most familiar tall man removing his hat and searching the store. Her heart recognized him almost before her eyes. His eyes were a dead giveaway that he was born a Bjorklund.

  “What does one have to do to get waited on here?” He turned at the tapping of her heels on the floorboards. “Penny, guess what?”

  “I’ve been guessing for six hours.” She stopped several feet away from her husband, hands on her hips, willing herself to stay stern. She stared at his top shirt button, knowing if she looked at his smiling mouth she’d be forced to smile back.

  “I didn’t have time to let you know I was leaving.”

  “Really?” Her tone said anything but.

  “Ja, a man leaned out one of the train windows at the water stop and asked if I knew Hjelmer Bjorklund.” In his enthusiasm, Hjelmer’s Norwegian accent became more pronounced, even though he’d worked hard to lose it when he lived and worked in St. Paul. “When I said I was him, he invited me to ride along to Grafton with him. He sells farm machinery and asked if I might be interested in hand
ling a line of machinery here at the blacksmith shop.”

  “And you said?”

  “After listening to all he had to say and looking at pictures of some of the new reapers and binders, I said yes. Especially now with harvest about to begin. All the farmers will be coming soon to deliver their wheat to the sack house. They’ve even come up with a steam tractor. Wait until you see that. Hiram—that’s the fellow’s name—says the tractor will take the place of horses for pulling machinery in the future. I’ll have some pieces right out where the local farmers can look them over while they wait for their wagons to be weighed and unloaded.”

  “And they can have a piece of pie and a cup of coffee while they wait too.” In her eagerness to tell him of her own adventure for the day, she’d forgotten all about how angry she’d been.

  Hjelmer asked, “So that’s who’s chopped all the wood and is now stacking it?”

  Penny nodded and leaned closer to whisper, “I knew he couldn’t afford the boots, but he sure needed them. I invited him to stay because he’s the only family I have out here.”

  “You have plenty of family, just not blood relatives. Agnes and Joseph been your family far longer than your real one.”

  “True. But I still want to know about my brothers and sisters. Someday I want to see them again, know how they are, send letters back and forth. Maybe some of them would like to come west and homestead or buy land.”

  “There’s not much of either available right around here.”

  “I know that, but I was thinking. Maybe Ephraim would like to help in the store. That way I can cook and bake and offer dinner to travelers and workingmen.”

  He nodded. “That’s a good idea. And if he doesn’t want to help in the store, he could probably help me refit wheels once harvest starts. Also, I know Haakan and Lars could use another hand. There’s plenty of work around here for anyone who wants to work.”

  “You suppose Ephraim can stay with Olaf over at the sack house? We’re going to have to make this house larger pretty soon.”