A Harvest of Hope (28 page)

Trygve started toward them. Elizabeth looked stricken. Astrid and Elizabeth, of all people, did not deserve this. Not now, not ever.

Astrid was still shouting, her fists white, her face and neck red. “You even lied to the man, saying you would get him deported, knowing full well you can do no such thing. You
lied
! Just so you could milk more money out of him. And his poor baby is starving to death. For some reason, you have turned into
a despicable . . .” She stammered for a word. “If I could, I'd get you run out on a rail!”

But now Anner was scowling in rage at Miriam, Trygve's Miriam. “So even the little bushy-haired guttersnipe gets to yell at me. This town has gone mad!”

“Guttersnipe!” Astrid looked ready to punch the pompous excuse for a man.

Anner was not quite finished. “And this incompetent little fool is no more a nurse than you are a doctor!”

But Astrid didn't have to punch him. Miriam hauled off with a fist and knocked Anner Valders back so hard he stumbled two paces before he met the floor, rear first.

M
iriam sat quietly shaking, the only person in the schoolroom, her eyes locked on the floor in front of her. Her right hand hurt like everything, but she ignored it. How could she have lost her temper like that? Whatever had possessed her? And in front of Trygve. That hurt even more than her hand.

She heard the music out in the other room, so they must be dancing yet.

The door opened and Thorliff Bjorklund entered. Behind him came Anner Valders, Trygve, Reverend Solberg, and Thomas Devlin. She was really in for it now. She watched Mr. Bjorklund's face. She couldn't bear to look at the others, especially Trygve. Whatever must the man think of her?

“Miriam.”

She pushed herself to her feet. “Mr. Bjorklund.”

He looked grim, but then, they all looked grim. “As you know, Miriam, our town has no law officers and no jail. You committed an assault, which is punishable by jail, if we had one.”

“Yes, sir.” She barely spoke it. She went back to studying the floor.

“So we've been discussing what to do about this. For one thing, the hospital is short-handed, and Elizabeth says they can
not afford to lose you for thirty days if we sent you up to jail, which would be the appropriate punishment. Anner agrees that if the reverend and Thomas levy an appropriate punishment, a spiritual punishment, you might say, he'll consider it sufficient. We feel first off you should apologize.”

She raised her head and locked eyes with Mr. Valders. This was so very difficult, a punishment in itself. “I apologize with all my heart, Mr. Valders, for losing my temper with you, for hitting you. I am very sorry.”

He bobbed his head slightly, turned on his heel, and marched out. The door didn't slam exactly, but it closed firmly. In a very nasty way, she was sort of pleased. Already his cheek was bruised and swollen, his eye turning purple. If she must suffer the consequences, at least she'd gotten in a good, solid punch.

And now she would pay the price, pay handsomely for a moment of foolishness. She looked over at Trygve.
Please
forgive me.

He walked up to her, grabbed her head in both hands, and kissed her on the forehead! “You wonderful woman!” A public display of affection! What?

Father Devlin was laughing. He grabbed her left hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically. Reverend Solberg was laughing too and pumping her other hand, squeezing it so hard it hurt worse.

Even Thorliff was grinning. “Miss Hastings, you cannot imagine how much all of us have wanted to do exactly that!
Yearned
to do that!”

Reverend Solberg let go, still grinning. “We are all assuming you won't do it again. Right?”

“Too right! It will never happen again.”

Father Devlin made a hasty sign of the cross. “Then ye're forgiven yer transgression, and we'll assume yer promise to be penance. 'Twill be hard enough to refrain from punching him again. But tell us, lass, how have ye developed such a powerful punch, a wee slip of a lass like yerself.”

She still felt a bit stunned. “Well, er, you don't grow up on the streets of Chicago without learning a thing or two about fighting and defense.”

Thorliff stepped back, still smiling. “Don't forget to look very contrite as you leave.”

“As I leave?” This was it? Her punishment was to look contrite? Suddenly she was grinning so hard she couldn't quit. “Thank you, all of you. And if I dare admit it”—she ducked her head—“it was the most satisfying thing I've done in years.”

Astrid remembered Daniel bringing her home, barely.

She stared up at the ceiling and around the room. She was in her own bed, in their bedroom, not the places she'd been to—the horror of the dark and the noises and the tears. Always the tears. What had happened to her? Was it dusk? How long had she been in bed? Her eyes burned as if walking through smoke. Had something happened to her? An accident or something?

Nothing made sense. A picture, a memory. Far smoking his pipe in the kitchen at home. Immediately tears tried to drown her. Using the sheet to wipe her eyes, she turned over and tried to muffle the sobs with the pillow. An explosion that rocked the walls. Flames. How could memories be so real? The night that threatened to burn Blessing to the ground. People screaming, the hospital overflowing. No, that had not happened. Had it?

When she threw back the covers, her feet searching for the rug, she pushed herself to sitting, slowly, as if the entire state of North Dakota were grinding into her shoulders. Staggering to the bathroom, she clung to the doorframe, the wall. Whatever she was suffering from, she must have been terribly ill to be so weak. So weak she felt nauseous.

Her memory flashed back in bits and pieces. Tears. Tears that would not stop. What started them? She focused as hard as she was able, but nothing came to mind. Other than she couldn't
quit crying. And now here she was again, mopping the overflow away as she made her way back to bed.

She went back to bed. Sleep. Go back to sleep, she told herself. There is safety in sleep. Or was there? Would all those horrifying dreams return?

Daniel. Perhaps Daniel had some answers for her. She tried to call his name, but instead she spiraled back down into the abyss.

The next time she woke, the birds that had not flown south were heralding the dawn. They must have slept in too. Sunlight whitened the sheer curtains. Someone had said they should have drapes to keep out the light, but she had said no. She needed the light to wake in the morning. Their bedroom had an eastern window for that very purpose.

Back to the bathroom and this time a drink of water too. Anything to soothe her throat. It felt as if she'd been coughing and swallowing sand. But moments later, the nausea returned with a vengeance, and she lost the water. She must drink it more slowly.

Back sitting on the bed, she checked the other pillow. Yes, Daniel had slept there. But she'd not even been aware of him in bed with her. Surely she had missed out on Sunday, since she vaguely remembered waking in the dusk. Was it Monday? Had he already gone to work? She listened closely, surely that was voices she heard.

Steps on the stairs, and to her relief, Daniel came through the doorway. “Good morning.” His smile didn't quite make it to his eyes. Was something terribly wrong?

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Mother wants to know if she can bring you a tray.”

Astrid thought about food, and even the thought made her stomach shudder. “Tea maybe?” The words took effort. “What is wrong with me?”

“Your mother called it a breakdown.”

The tears started again, only a drizzle this time. How could
one body have so many tears? Shoulders curved, she huddled into herself. The warmth of his arm around her shoulders felt like a lifeline.

“I . . . I'm so tired.” Even those few words took effort.

“You don't have to get up.” He kissed the top of her head.

Waves of weariness threatened to take her under again. “Heavy, so heavy.” Her head dropped to his shoulder as if unhinged. “Takk.” Did the word get spoken or not? Grateful for his help, she burrowed back into the pillow. Surely if she slept a bit more she would feel like getting up.

“Her vitals are all normal, heart a bit slow, but . . .”

Astrid focused on the words. Elizabeth? Whose vitals? The pillow felt wet beneath her cheek. Had she even been crying in her sleep? How long had this been going on?

“I think exhaustion, accentuated by grief.” Her mor's voice.

“I hope so. There are no symptoms of anything else.”

Astrid opened her eyes. Halfway was all they would go. “I'm awake.”

Her mother's hand of love smoothed back her hair. She'd know that hand anywhere, anytime. “Good.”

“The bathroom. I need . . .” She needed it for the usual reason and because the nausea was back. Astrid ordered her hand and arm to remove the covers. Strange, as if she had to tell her body to do the things it usually did without attention. Instead of swinging as usual, her feet crept to the edge of the bed and over the side. When she sat up, the room tilted but righted itself when she was sitting up. “I am so weak.” The words croaked.

“Let me help you.” Ingeborg wrapped an arm around her daughter and, after helping her to her feet, walked beside her to the other room, assisting her all the way.

Back in the bedroom, she saw Elizabeth sitting in one of the chairs by the south window. “How come you are here?”

Elizabeth smiled. “I am your doctor, you know.” She nodded to the tray on the table between the chairs. “Tea?”

Whatever happened to her ability to make instant decisions? After sinking back on the edge of the bed, she nodded. “I guess.”

“You want to go over there, or we can prop the pillows behind you here?” When Mor smiled like that, the sun came out.

“Here.” This time the pause was almost not noticeable. Instead of sliding back under the covers, Astrid waited until her mother finished.

“We should help you over there, and then we could change the bed.”

“Later.” Scooting back sucked her energy, but with only a little help, she could relax against the pillows.

“Oh good. You are up.” Amelia Jeffers smiled at her from the door. “I'm heating the chicken soup Ingeborg brought.” When Astrid started to object, she raised a hand. “Sorry, I'm not listening. You need to eat something.” With that she turned and headed back down the stairs.

Elizabeth first grinned, then chuckled. “Now that's a side of Amelia I've not seen before.”

“She's so very capable.” Ingeborg picked up the washcloth from a basin of warm water and, after wringing it, sat on the edge of the bed and washed her daughter's face, then hands.

“Oh, that feels so good.” Astrid tried to sniff back the tears that welled without her permission but failed, so Ingeborg handed her a handkerchief.

“Tears are healing, you know. God even promises to store all our tears in a bottle.”

“He must have a bottomless jar.”

“Our Astrid is still in there.” Elizabeth picked up her teacup and inhaled the fragrance. “I think Amelia put rose hips in this tea.” She poured another cup from the teapot snugged inside a quilted cozy. “Do you want honey?”

“Ja, she does.” Ingeborg ignored Astrid's almost refusal.

Astrid ordered her eyes to stay open, but like the rest of her, they did not obey. The fragrance of chicken soup brought her
back. She watched her mother sit back down on the edge of the bed and proceed to spoon soup into her mouth.

After a few swallows, Astrid moved her head. “No hurry.”

“More in a bit, then. You do need to get some fluids into you.”

“I know. Let this settle.” She listened to the other two talking about the celebration on Saturday, but that seemed like such a long time ago, she barely remembered it. At least the nausea did not come on strongly, and she could keep everything from coming back.

“I don't think Miriam will ever live that down. Imagine her taking on Anner like that.” Amelia laughed as she spoke.

“It sure shocked everyone there,” Elizabeth said. “Including herself, I am sure. I wanted to applaud, but the shock was too great. If only Anner would get the idea that he is mistaken about so many things.”

“Whatever is the matter with him?” Amelia asked. “This is just not like the man I first met.”

“Ever since the robbery, he's been different.”

Astrid nodded when Ingeborg raised the soup cup. She knew what she needed to do, but somehow even thinking took effort. She drank some of the now cooled soup and let her head fall back against the pillows. So heavy. Everything felt so heavy.

She thought she'd only slept a short while, but when she returned from the bathroom, the sunset was already fading too.

“Welcome back.” Daniel sat in the chair where Elizabeth had been sitting. That meant the others had left and hours had passed and still she'd slept. How could a body sleep so much? It wasn't as if she'd only dozed, floating in and out of consciousness. She'd never heard a thing.

“Takk.” Should she go clear across the room to sit by him?

“Mother said you finally ate some soup.”

“I guess.”
Good. That had not been a dream,
then
. Strange how she wasn't sure what was real and what was dreams. After all, Elizabeth wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposedly still on medical orders to stay home and take it easy.

“Elizabeth came up our stairs.”

“So?” He leaned forward slightly.

“She has orders not to go up or down stairs.”

Daniel smiled at her. “She said she is feeling almost back to normal and grateful for that. Short of shooting her or tying her down, there was no way to keep her from coming to check on you.”

Astrid blinked and rolled her eyes up, but still the tears flowed. All she did was sleep and cry.