RR05 - Tender Mercies (12 page)

At least today I have my assignments
, Mary Martha thought as they neared the school. While she’d wanted to stay at home, Katy insisted she go.
“Those children need you more than I do,”
she’d said. And Mary Martha had a hard time arguing. For the first time in several weeks Katy had color in her cheeks, and she did indeed look rested.

But I’m still going to Ingeborg’s. Deborah can go with me, and Manda can hitch a ride with someone else or walk
. She just wished she could do something about the butterflies rampaging about somewhere in her middle.

“Mith MacCallithter, you came back.” Anna ran across the school yard to stop beside the wagon.

“I surely did that.” Mary Martha swung over the wheel and used it for a stepping stool.

“I’ll take care of the horse for you.” Thorliff and Baptiste met her as she stepped on the ground.

“I’ll take care of our horse,” Manda said, scowling at the two boys.

“We’ll help.”

Mary Martha watched the exchange, making sure her face remained serious. Laughing would only make Manda more churlish. She felt a small hand take hers. Looking down, she had Deborah on one side and Anna on the other. Their faces smiling up at her made her grateful she’d listened to Katy. Anna, for one, did truly need her. Today they would begin work on her lisp.

She swung their hands as they made their way to the soddy door, where Pastor Solberg was about to ring the bell. She glanced up in time to see a puzzled look wrinkle his forehead, but then it was gone.
What is bothering him today?
Not that she cared. Unless he banished her from the school yard or some equally farfetched idea.

She settled in with the three Erickson sisters, Thorliff again acting as interpreter. But her Norwegian was improving about as fast as their English, so the lessons were much easier. For all of them.

Clouds racing before the wind greeted them on their dinner recess.

“Storm coming,” Baptiste said, studying the western sky. Cotton bole clouds stacked the horizon, not the gray ones skittering above them. When they covered the sun, everyone shivered.

Mary Martha took her dinner pail and sat with the children on the south side of the soddy.

“How come you talk tho funny?” Anna looked up from her folded sandwich.

“I live in Missouri. After we eat, I’ll show you where that is on the map. Down there, people just talk different than you folks do up here. Maybe ’cause it’s warmer, we like to talk slower.”

“Oh. Are you going to thtay here forever?”

Deborah leaned closer on the other side. “Manda says we’re going to hog-tie her to keep her with us. Her and Pa.”

Mary Martha shook her head, her laughter rising like a lark’s song on the wind.

Pastor Solberg had gone home for a book he’d forgotten when he heard her. He glanced up to follow the sound and saw her surrounded by the younger girls and Andrew, who never left Ellie’s side. The bigger boys and Manda were setting up to play Ante Over, tossing a ball over the schoolhouse roof.

Mary Martha stood, then taking the hand of the child beside her, she pointed toward the open area in front of the shed. They all followed her there, and a circle game commenced. For a change there would be no hurt feelings from the little ones because the bigger children wouldn’t let them play.

When he rang the bell, Mary Martha’s cheeks were red from the wind, her laughter still echoed in his ears, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Whatever was the matter with him, he wondered.

Some time later, when Anna stood to take her turn reading aloud, a snicker caused heads to turn. Anna ducked her chin and held the open book to her chest. Red crept up her neck and washed her pale cheeks.

“Quiet!” Pastor Solberg felt like leaping to his feet, but Andrew Bjorklund beat him to it and headed for the White boys, one of whom had a hand over his mouth.

“Andrew, please take your seat.” Solberg kept his voice even but firm.

Andrew stopped, looked at the teacher, then back at the boys, who now sat straight as if the snickering had never happened.

“Andrew Bjorklund, sit down!” hissed Thorliff.

Andrew took another step toward the boys, then turned, shot a glare over his shoulder, and took his seat again.

“Thank you.” Pastor Solberg nodded at him. He turned to Anna. “You may continue. You are reading better all the time.”

But her voice could barely be heard now, and when she came to an
s
, her lower lip trembled.

Mary Martha looked from the child to the teacher and back again. What could she do?

When Anna finished reading, he nodded. “Very good. Now you may go, and Miss MacCallister will help you. All right?”

Anna’s head bobbed like a heavy flower on a tired stem. “Thank you.”

“Toby, Jerry, please remain seated. The rest of you are dismissed.” Pastor Solberg waited as the children stood quietly and walked to the door. Once outside, shouting and laughter told the world that school was out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked Mary Martha.

She paused before following the children outside but didn’t even glance at the two remaining in their seats. “That will be fine, thank you.”

She was glad she wasn’t in the boys’ position. The stern look on the pastor’s face said they were in for it.

Once outside the schoolhouse, Mary Martha called out, “Thorliff, and everyone going that way, you want a ride?”

As they all clambered into the back of the wagon, Manda took her seat beside Mary Martha. “I’ll drop you off at home first if you want.”

Manda shook her head. “No, this is all right. We won’t stay long, will we?”

“No. Too much to do at home.” Mary Martha could hear Thorliff scolding Andrew.

“You don’t get out of your seat without asking permission first.”

“But . . . but they . . . they made Anna almost cry.”

“I know, but the teacher will take care of that.”

Mary Martha clucked the horse forward just in time to hear a mutter from Andrew.

“They better not do it again or . . .”

Chapter 10

“So, we can’t both sell sewing machines.”

“I think that’s about right.” Hjelmer looked up from the book he was studying. He and Penny had just finished supper a couple of days after the sewing machine demonstrations. “But there are several ways to look at this.” He leaned back in his chair and tented his fingertips. “If you decide to carry the line, you will need more room. The store is full to overflowing as it is.”

“But I already have the dress goods and notions.”

“That’s another point. You also serve dinner to more people every day. Today you had to sit a second serving because the tables were full the first time, and you can’t bear to turn anyone away.”

“Well, they were hungry, and there is nowhere else in town they can get a meal.” She gave the bread dough she was kneading a solid thump when she turned it. The kneading rhythm began again. Push down on the dough with the heel of the hand, roll the top edge of the dough inward, and push again. One could work off all kinds of resentments kneading bread. The madder the kneader, the lighter the bread.

She turned to give her husband a “don’t mess with me” look. “If Bridget could get her boardinghouse going,
that
problem would be taken care of.”

“So, which would you rather do? Serve dinners or sell sewing machines and teach people how to use them?”

Penny nibbled on her bottom lip. “Both . . . neither.”

Hjelmer smiled at her in the lamplight. “And that right there is the problem. You have to make up your mind before you can go any further. Now, Goodie is single-minded. She could use part of the sack house for space if she needed. She is excited about the machine, and Olaf could become a repairman if he wants.”

“From the gleam in your eye, I thought you might want to do that.”

He wrinkled his brow. “I could. From the looks of it, Singer has done a fine job of creating a good machine. But . . .” He raised his hands in the air. “Like you, I already have more irons in the fire than I know what to do with.” He shuffled through the mail from the day. “I think part of that problem may be solved though.” He picked up one letter and raised it in the light. “You remember me telling you about Sam, the darkie who worked on the railroad with me, then we shared a house in St. Paul?”

Penny nodded. “I’m listening.” She rolled the dough into a ball and laid it in a crockery bowl, putting a dish towel over the top. After setting it on the reservoir where it could rise all night, she started cleaning up the flour mess. The rustle of paper told her that Hjelmer was taking the letter out of the envelope. The wish for another letter like the one she’d received earlier flitted through her mind. Months before she had written to an address cousin Ephraim had given her in the hopes of contacting the brothers and sisters she hadn’t seen nor heard from since they were all separated on the death of their parents. Oh, how she had wanted a family of her own. Her brother two years younger had written from where he lived in Iowa with a distant relative of the family. He had always wondered what happened to her and hoped she would answer back. She had, the very next day.

“Listen to what he says,” Hjelmer continued.

“ ‘Dear Hjelmer,

I hope you remember me, as we worked on the railroad together. You said then that if I ever wanted to move to a small town in Dakota, to let you know. I have decided that is what I want. I have some money set by, enough to bring my family with me. I would like to buy a farm or work for someone until I can do that. If you know of anything there, please write to me.’

“He ends by giving the address.” Hjelmer looked up, folding the letter at the same time. “What do you think?”

“I think you have plenty of work for him here. Haakan will need another pair of hands with the lumber milling and the ice house, besides the farm. Ingeborg is talking about building a bigger well house so she can make and sell more cheese. She might need more help. I’d say there’s plenty for him to do here.”

Hjelmer nodded slowly, his tongue stroking his front teeth. “There’s one problem.”

Penny dusted the flour into her hand and brushed her hands over the wash pan. “What’s that?”

“Sam is Negro, black Negro.”

“So?”

“Some people might hold that against him.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, not here in Blessing.”

“You think not? Look how some of them reacted to Metiz.”

“Yes, but . . . but . . .” A frown creased her forehead. “Isn’t this different?”

“How so?

“She—Metiz—is half Indian. And you know the horror stories people had heard about Indians. Besides, no one feels that way any longer now that they all know her. She’s helped so many of them, even when they were less than gracious.” She removed her apron and hung it on a hook by the back door. “So, what are you going to tell him?”

“To come and work for me but be prepared for some mistrust.” He shook his head. “We didn’t have a problem like this in Norway.”

“We solved your problem, now what about mine?”

“Have you talked this over with Goodie?”

Penny shook her head. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time. For all I know, she ordered the whole package.”

“What about Drummond?”

“He said he’d be back next week and hoped I could have made my decision by then. I didn’t feel I could ask him about Goodie.”

“But you ordered your machine?”

She nodded again, then yawned and stretched. “So, when are you going to begin building Bridget’s boardinghouse?”

Hjelmer stopped, setting out the ink bottle and paper. “I wish I’d never heard the word boardinghouse.”

“Ingeborg is donating the land.”

“How did you hear that?”

“She told me.” Penny walked behind her husband and began massaging his neck and shoulders in the way she knew he liked. “And there’s much of the lumber curing since last winter. She figures she could start with a two-story building like their farmhouse and then add on later.”

Hjelmer shook his head. “It’s not as easy as you women try to make it out to be.”

“If someone, say, Olaf, wanted to do this, would there be as much of a problem?”

“Olaf can’t cook.”

“No, but Goodie can, and besides, you know that’s not what I was talking about.”

The ink blotted the sheet of paper. Hjelmer said a word not normally used in their home. Sometimes she heard it from the blacksmith but not in the house.

“Hjelmer Bjorklund!” She pinched his shoulder rather than rubbing it.
This thing with the boardinghouse is really bothering you, and I just don’t understand why
. She soothed the spot she’d pinched. He hadn’t even noticed . . . or so it seemed.

The words flowed from beneath his pen, and while Penny wanted to tease him a little, she refrained. After all, this was a business letter, and she knew how much he would rather be repairing machines than fitting wagon wheels. Shrinking the iron rims to fit the wooden wheels took a lot of time and firewood. He never had liked doing that much.

A thought stopped her ministering fingers. “Sam can do some of the blacksmithing for you, right?”

At his nod, she breathed a sigh of relief. A yawn caught her by surprise and made her jaw crack. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”

“Soon.” He signed his name with a flourish and blew on the wet ink. “There. That can go off tomorrow, and most likely they’ll be here within the month. Or at least Sam will.” He turned and pulled her onto his lap. “You pinched me.”

“You said something you shouldn’t have.”

“One word.”

“When we have children, you want them to talk that way?”

“They better not.”

If we have children?
Each month brought another letdown. Once she’d been late and had high hopes for two days. Tante Agnes kept saying “all in God’s good time,” but Penny knew that Agnes herself suffered from not having more babies. But more babies was surely different than no babies, wasn’t it?

“You’ve gone away from me.” Hjelmer used two fingers under her chin to bring her gaze back to his. He looked deep in her eyes, his own warm and compassionate.