RR05 - Tender Mercies (31 page)

The sound invaded her heart and mind and soul.
God, are you listening? How can you bear to see this child suffer so? I can’t! I can’t!

“Ingeborg.” Metiz touched her shoulder.

“Ja, I am coming.” She dried her eyes again, then taking the child from the mother, she and Metiz held Anna over the steam kettle.

Pastor Solberg came and went. Other neighbors brought bread and cakes, beans and stew. Everyone said they were praying for Anna, nay for the whole family. Mrs. Johnson took the two younger children home with her to play for a while.

Daylight passed into night. The coughing grew less.

Ingeborg and Metiz exchanged looks across the bed they were changing again so that Anna would have dry sheets.

“You go rest for a time while Anna is resting.” Ingeborg took Magda by the arm and started her toward the stairs.

“What time is it?”

“Some after midnight. We will come for you if there is any change.”

“All right.” Magda stumbled on the first step, righted herself, and pulled her way up the stairs.

A bit later Einer came down and asked, “Do you need any wood or anything?”

“No, you rest too.”

He knelt at the side of the bed and laid a hand on Anna’s forehead. “Rest, child, ah my little Anna.” His tortured face streamed with tears. “Is there nothing I can do?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “We will call you.”

Ingeborg sat in the rocker by the bed. Metiz, wrapped in a quilt, sat against the wall. In the quiet warmth of the room, the verses tolled through Ingeborg’s mind.
“I am the good shepherd. . . . My sheep hear my voice. . . . I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. . . .”

She jerked awake, not aware she’d been sleeping. Was that the wind whimpering at the eaves? Or Anna? She leaned closer to the child in the bed.

No more coughing or choking. The silence was deafening.

Tears streamed down Ingeborg’s face as she drew the sheet over the child. “Go with God, little one. I know you are in a better place.”

Her whisper brought Metiz to an abrupt waking. When Ingeborg shook her head, all Metiz said was “Ah.” What else was there to say?

Ingeborg’s chest hurt from trying to breathe for the little girl. “How will I tell Andrew?” she whispered, staring down at the still form. “And her mother?”

“Andrew knows. The mother, we will let her sleep. No more to do.”

Ingeborg washed the thin little body, combed Anna’s hair, and dressed her in a clean dress.

Together she and Metiz pulled rocking chairs up by the wood stove and sat without talking, letting the tears slip by until Mr. Helmsrude woke to begin chores.

“How is she?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “She’s gone home.”

“Oh, God. Oh, my poor Anna.” He entered the bedroom, and they heard his knees hit the floor by the bed. When he came out, his eyes were red but dry. “Thank you for letting Ma sleep. Wasn’t nothing more she coulda done anyway.”

“That’s right. We’ll wait here until she wakes. How long before you’ll be ready for breakfast?”

“Couple hours. Will you tell her, or should I? Anna, you know, she ain’t never been strong like the others. But she is—was our first, and a better little girl never lived.”

“I’ll tell her if you want.”

“Good.” He blinked a few times, clapped his hat on his head, and left the house.

The other two children had been fed and dressed, the mister ate and went back out to clean the barn, and still Mrs. Helmsrude slept on.

“Is Ma sick too?”

“No. Just worn out.” Ingeborg took the little boy by the hand. “Let’s go wash your hands and face, then you can show me where your toys are.”

“Toys are in Anna’s room. Can I see Anna now? She likes me to come play on her bed.”

Ingeborg shared a sad glance with Metiz. “No, not right now.”
Should I tell him or wait for his mother to do that? Oh, Lord, how would I want this to be taken care of in my house? Please, tell me what to do
.

“Ma’s awake.” He tore loose from her hand and ran up the stairs. “Ma, we got comp’ny. They made breakfast, and . . .” His voice faded as he found his mother.

“I take baby.” Metiz lifted the youngest child up from her chair. “Come, we rock.”

Ingeborg nodded and made her way up the steep flight of narrow risers. Mrs. Helmsrude sat on the edge of the bed rocking her son. She looked up at Ingeborg, tears streaming down her face. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Ingeborg nodded.

“I knew it when I didn’t hear her fighting to breathe. That sound has filled the house for almost three days.” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “Better for her. Oh, my little Anna.”

“Anna sleeping.”

“Ja, that she is.” Ingeborg put her arms around Mrs. Helmsrude, held her close, and let her cry until the tears dried for the moment.

“Ma, why are you crying?” The boy hiccuped between the words.

“Because, Petey, Anna has gone home to be with Jesus, and we shall miss her terribly.” She kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair.

“But she lives here with us.”

“Not anymore, son.”

“But, she . . .” He looked up at Ingeborg. “She said Anna was sleeping in the bedroom.”

Ingeborg sighed. “I-I thought you should be the one to tell him.”

The mother nodded and turned her son’s face up to look at her. “Remember when the kitten died?”

“The dog killed it.”

“Ja, well Anna died from the whooping cough.”

“Are we going to put Anna in the ground?”

Both of the women nodded. “Come spring.”

“But that will be dark, and Anna don’t like the dark.”

“Ah, but you see, Anna’s spirit is already in heaven with Jesus, where it is light all the time, and where she never has to cough again. She’s all better now.”

Tears rained down on the little boy’s face. “Then why are you sad?”

“Because I already miss her so.”

Ingeborg gave up fighting the tears.

With his hands crossed, Peter said, “I miss her too.” He looked up at his mother again. “Will I go to heaven and see Anna when I die?”

“Yes, if you believe in Jesus.”

“Good. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow.” He hopped down and walked to the door. “Come, Ma. Have a cup of coffee.”

“He’s some child,” Ingeborg whispered.
And like he’s learned from the adults, when things are good or bad, you have a cup of coffee
.

“I think I been grieving for my little girl a long time now. Somehow I just knew she was never going to grow up and get married. I had a sense of that and kept asking Jesus to make her well again.” She looked up at Ingeborg. “You think I didn’t pray with enough faith, so that’s why God took her?”

Ingeborg sank to the floor on her knees beside Mrs. Helmsrude. “I remember thinking that when my Roald never returned from that blizzard. I thought maybe it was all my fault, and if I was any kind of Christian, God would have answered my plea and brought him home. But now I know that God doesn’t work that way. I don’t know why He took Anna home any more than why He took Roald, but I do know that He loves us beyond measure and promises to be right here in the valley with us. The Bible says His ways are higher than ours, and I believe this is one of those times we just don’t understand ’cause it’s too high for us.” She shifted to the bed. “But I do believe Anna and Roald are far better off than the rest of us, that’s for certain sure.”

“I believe that too, but my heart hurts like there’s a hole there bigger’n me.”

“I know.”

“Can I see her now?” Mrs. Helmsrude asked.

“Ja, you can.” When they got back in the kitchen, they could hear hammering from the barn. Mr. Helmsrude was making the small wooden box in which to bury his daughter.

Ingeborg and Metiz left for home an hour or so later after promising to stop on the way and tell Pastor Solberg.

Dear Mary Martha,

I have such sad news to write that I would rather be anywhere than here with pen and paper in hand. Anna Helmsrude died of the whooping cough two days after Christmas. She said her part so well in the program you would have burst your buttons. There was no sign of a lisp in spite of her being so nervous about standing in front of the congregation. And the song you all worked on? Well, people, me included, have been singing it ever since. Such a catchy tune it is, and the words say so much. If I didn’t believe in our Lord’s promises that we will see our loved ones again in heaven, I would run screaming out into a blizzard and never return. That said, let me turn to lighter things.

Christmas I was at the Bjorklunds, along with most of Blessing. That house was some full, and a better time could not be had anywhere. Bridget knit me the most warm and beautiful sweater, and others gave me so much that I have no idea how to repay them. The joke of the day was on Ingeborg and Kaaren, as their husbands bought them each a sewing machine quite some time ago, and Ingeborg tried to purchase one herself. Penny was caught in the middle, but she played the game with finesse, even though she said her heart was in her mouth half the time.

The weather has been cold but sunny for the last several weeks, so I’m sure we are due for a real northerner any time. I hope and pray you are doing well and that your mother is improving in health with you there.

I look forward to seeing you again, hopeful that it will be sometime in the not too distant future.

Yours truly,
John Solberg

He laid the pen down and looked into the flickering lamplight. “Oh, Father in heaven, watch over your lambs here and protect us all from the ravages of disease this winter. I believe, help thou my unbelief.”

The cat purred at his feet and started for the door as soon as it had John’s attention. “Ja, you are right. Time for that and then bed.” While the cat was out, he put two chunks of wood in the stove, turning the damper so the wood would burn very slowly, and moved the water bucket to sit on top of the reservoir so it might not have ice on it in the morning. As cold as it was, he was grateful to live in a soddy, for they stayed warmer in winter, especially now that the roof wore a two-foot-deep blanket of white. The drift covered the back of the house.

He let the cat back in and headed for bed, including all of his Blessing family in his prayers. For some reason, Katy kept coming to his mind, so he prayed extra for her. As had become his habit of late, he closed with prayers for Mary Martha. The letter would go out in the morning, forging one more link in the chain and keeping the distance from being unbearable.

Springfield, Missouri

Dear Pastor Solberg,

Thank you for your letter, but oh, how the message made my heart ache. Anna had become so dear to me, as you well know.My regret? I had planned to sew her a new dress for the program, and I didn’t get that started, let alone finished. Now I shall never have the opportunity. I know her mother’s heart must be near to breaking, and her father’s too. Such proud people they are, and it is so difficult for them to ask for help. Please make others aware of their needs. I know you can do so in a way that will not offend them.

You asked of my mother. She is doing better, has even felt strong enough to pick up her mending and knitting of an evening, or in the afternoon, for that matter. She fusses at me because I will not allow her to do anything about the house, but I rejoice to see some color back in her cheeks. That makes everything I do worthwhile.

My sister, Eva Jane, was here with her family. Mama had sewn dolls for the little girls, and Uncle Jed made rocking cradles to hold the dolls. They were an immediate success. I plan to stitch up quilts for the cradles and maybe a dress or two for the dolls. It has been many a year since I sewed doll clothes.

Uncle Jed says he thinks he would like to see that flat plain that I try so hard to describe to him. When one has seen only ridges and hollers all one’s life, prairie as far as the eye can see is hard to imagine. I tell him that Zeb dreams of raising some of the finest horseflesh in Dakota and would love to make a place for him there.