Chapter
12

Stop your fussing, everything looks very nice.” Gerd jiggled Kirstin on her hip and made her chortle. Nothing could be as contagious as a baby’s laughter.

“But it’s the boys’ teacher. The place should look decent.” Signe’s trepidation lifted as she grinned back at her daughter.

The sound of horse hooves splocking in the mud made her suck in another breath. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know who was coming. The boys had told her about Mr. Jahnson. If he was as good a teacher as they described, her boys were fortunate to have him. Even though Knute would rather be here working or out in the woods, he still seemed to be doing well at school. Leif loved every moment of it.

She answered the knock at the front door. The steps were now free of snow and ice, so they could use that door again. She made sure her face wore a smile as she pulled the door open. It still stuck a bit, but Rune had worked on it for some time. “Good afternoon, Mr. Jahnson. Welcome.” Signe spoke her English carefully.

“Mrs. Carlson?” He held his hat to his chest.

“Ja, come right in.” She stepped back and beckoned him inside. Taller than Rune and some rounder, he seemed to fill the doorway. Stepping back, she held out a hand. “May I take your coat and hat? It is much warmer in the kitchen.” She hung them on the coatrack by the door and led the way to the kitchen. “As I said in my note, my husband and the boys are all out working in the woods until near dark. Hopefully we’ll be able to return to church now that the roads are more passable.”

“I was hoping to meet Mr. Carlson too, but I do understand. Work has to come first when the weather cooperates.”

As they entered the kitchen, Gerd nodded and jiggled Kirstin, who eyed the stranger with a bushy mustache. First the baby hid her face in Gerd’s shoulder, then looked at him again and screwed her face into a scowl that turned to a whimper. She reached out her arms for her mor, who took her immediately.

“Sorry. Mr. Jahnson, this is Mrs. Strand. Gerd Strand.” As they both murmured the proper responses, Signe swayed Kirstin from side to side. “Please sit down, and we will have a cup of coffee and dried-apple pie.”

He took the chair she indicated. “Dried-apple pie, really? My mother used to make that, brings back good memories. You didn’t need to go to so much bother. I apologize it has taken me so long to come to meet you. Today Mr. Larsson is teaching, so I am free.”

“I am glad you are here. The boys say you are German.”

He nodded. “On my mother’s side. I spoke German growing up. That makes it easier to understand those who speak Norwegian. Did you know that your Leif has a knack for learning languages?”

“I know he has picked up English faster than any of us. Even on the ship, he did.”

While Signe sat talking with Mr. Jahnson, Gerd took Kirstin and settled her in for a nap. After setting the pieces of pie on the table, along with a pitcher of thick cream, she filled the coffee cups and set them around. “There is sugar for your coffee too, if you want.”

“No, thanks. I take mine black. I’m glad you are going to join us.”

“Takk.”

Signe sucked in a bunch of courage to ask, “Are both of our boys doing well?”

Mr. Jahnson nodded. “I am glad to say they are. I think Knute would rather be somewhere else, but he is one of my better math students. I know Mr. Larsson, the man who teaches them English, is pleased too.” He savored another bite of pie. “Let me give you an example of a problem I posed to the upper grades. I asked them how many board feet of lumber could be cut from a thirty-foot log. Knute looked at me for a moment and raised his hand. What size boards, he asked. That was the kind of answer I wanted. No one could figure out board feet without more information. I want my students to not only love to learn but be able to think for themselves.” He forked the last bite of pie into his mouth. “Do you have any questions you would like to ask me?”

“I am curious. Are there many other immigrant children who do not speak good English?”

“Several, but they are in the lower grades. I thought we might have to keep your boys back a grade, but it wasn’t long before I knew that was not necessary. History and literature are their hardest, of course, because they involve so much reading on their own and understanding what they have read. Again, Mr. Larsson helps with that.”

“So they are not failing?”

“Not at all, but they both spend more time on their homework than others do. They both do well in Latin, and young as he is, Leif is tackling Greek. He said his teacher in Norway started him on it.” He shook his head when Gerd offered to fill his coffee cup again. “Thank you, but I need to be on my way in a few minutes.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I hope I can meet Mr. Carlson soon, and thank you again for the delicious pie.”

Signe stood to walk him to the door. “Are you any relation to the family who owns the lumber mill and yards?”

“That is my father and uncle. Grandfather started it all.”

“And you are teaching school?” Gerd gave him a puzzled look.

“Both my brothers excel in the lumber business, so I had the freedom to do what I wanted.” He smiled. “And I wanted to teach.”

She nodded. “I see.”

When Signe returned from seeing the teacher out, Gerd seemed to be fretting. “He didn’t say what he wanted from us.”

“He wants to meet all the parents, Knute said.”

“No, he wants something more. They always want something.”

“Now you sound like Onkel Einar.”

“Sometimes he is right.” Gerd paused and looked at Signe. “At least he was in the past.”

Signe often wondered how much of the discord between the Strands and the surrounding community was because of Einar’s attitude. But did it really matter what came first? That was all behind them now. At least in her own mind. If Einar learned of the teacher visit, he would most likely not be happy. Inhaling what she hoped was courage, she smiled at Gerd. “It seems to me that Mr. Jahnson was just doing his job, and since the boys seem to be doing well at school without complaints, what if we add dumplings to the leftover stew, and I go down in the cellar and see if I can find any jars of corn to make scalloped corn like my mor used to?”

“Are there any beet pickles left?”

“I’ll see.”

Signe lit a lantern and hung on to the rail as she walked down the narrow stairs to the cellar. Soon the snow would be gone from the outside door, and she could begin to clean this out. Holding her lantern high, she inspected the dwindling number of jars on the shelves. Next year she would be sure to make more beet pickles for Gerd. Finding none, she took a quart jar of corn and one of carrots back up the stairs. There was still one jar of peas. Good thing they had canned lots of green beans and dried plenty too. This year she would plant more corn and dry some of that. With Nilda here to help, they could make the garden larger.

Back upstairs, she found Gerd rocking Kirstin, who was reaching up with one finger until Gerd nibbled on the end of it and made Kirstin giggle. What a happy sight.

Right on time, the boys trotted into the yard, and both came through the door. “Look, the sun has not gone down yet. The days are getting longer.” Leif set their dinner buckets on the counter. He slung another sack off his shoulder. “Homework.”

Kirstin waved her arms at them and spoke her baby language. Both boys smiled at Gerd and grinned and made baby noises back at their baby sister. She reached out, waving her arms.

“Nei, can’t pick you up right now. I got to head for the woods.” Knute let her grab his finger but when she tried to chew on it, he pulled back. He waved at her, took the sandwich Signe held out to him, and headed outside to ride down to the woods.

Leif knelt beside Gerd’s knees and took Kirstin’s hands in his to clap them together. “See, you can do that.” As soon as he let go, she reached for him with both arms.

“Go ahead,” Gerd told him. “I think she can tell when it is time for you to come home. See how happy she is?”

Leif scooped her up in his arms and jogged her around the kitchen on his hip. Kirstin laughed, told him something, and grabbed his hair with her other fist. “Ouch, that hurts.” He untangled her fist and bounced her up and down again. “Pretty soon you can ride on my shoulders, baby.” He handed her back to Gerd. “Gotta go do chores. Mor, when will she be big enough to ride in the wagon?”

“About the same time it warms up enough out there. She is sitting up and getting stronger all the time.”

He waved at her, sandwich in his other hand, and asked over his shoulder, “Need anything from the well house?”

“Nei, but we need wood in the box.”

“You always do.” He wolfed down his sandwich, carried in a couple armloads of wood, and headed back out.

Dusk had nearly given in to dark when the men came in from the woods. Signe watched as they stopped at the barn. Einar parked the wagon by the machine shop to unload the tools before Bjorn unhitched the team, drove them back to the barn, and took off their harnesses. They had moved the wagon bed from sledge runners to wheels that morning, a sure sign of spring.

Spring, though, was arriving in bits and pieces. Snow was still piled on the north sides of all the buildings, but parts of the pasture and the lanes were drying up, with green sprouting where the sun had melted the snow.

Signe heard the clunk and scrape of boots on the porch. “Bring in wood,” she called as the door opened.

Einar still refused to answer her greeting, and he did not bring in an armload of firewood.

“Supper in about ten minutes,” Gerd announced.

When everyone was washed and seated at the table, Gerd and Signe removed the stew with dumplings from the oven and the scalloped corn from the warming oven. Sliced bread and butter along with glasses of milk for the boys were already on the table.

“Let’s have grace,” Rune said as he did every night.

Einar sat still until he finished, then reached for the bread plate. “Who was here today?”

Signe and Gerd exchanged a look, and Signe shook her head. How did he know someone had been there? She filled his plate and passed it around to him, since the pots were too hot to pass.

He growled this time. “Who was here today?”

“Mr. Jahnson, the schoolteacher. He makes calls on all the families of his students.”

Einar slammed his fist on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you, no one is to come here!” His angry voice made Kirstin wrinkle up her face and whimper.

Signe picked her up and started the swaying waltz of comforting. “Shh, shh, all is well.”

“All is not well! I don’t want anyone coming here, and you all know that.”

“Onkel Einar—” Signe started, but with a slashing hand, he cut her off.

“Enough!”

Kirstin broke into a full, red-faced cry.

“Let’s just finish our supper, and we can talk about this later.” Rune spoke softly but clearly.

“Nei! This is still my house and as long as you live here, you will all do as I say.” He tried to nail Signe with his glare, but she kept her attention on the rigid baby in her arms, who had a voice louder than Einar’s. Perhaps someone could outyell him.

Gerd planted her hands on her hips and met him glare for glare. “Einar Strand, this is my house too, and I live in it all day and night. And I like having company, and I will have company. If you would rather sleep in the barn, so be it.”

Everyone stared at her, mouths hanging open. This was the second time she had opposed him. Einar shoved his chair back, pushing the table enough to topple Leif’s glass of milk and send it spreading across the table. He stomped out.

“Put a slice of bread in the spilled milk and let it soak up.” Gerd sat back down. “Now we will finish our supper in peace.”