Chapter
15

Two more weeks, and Nilda will be here.

Signe felt like dancing. Until she began to think about all she had to get done before Nilda arrived. She heaved a sigh. May, and the spring cleaning was not even finished yet, let alone the garden in.

“What is bothering you?” Gerd asked, swaying from side to side to make Kirstin’s eyes drift closed. Gerd looked down at the baby in her arms. “I think she must be teething again. That’s the only time she really fusses.”

“There’s so much to do.”

“Signe, Nilda and Ivar are coming here to work, to help us, both in the house and outside. You do not have to have it all done before they come.”

Signe blinked. “Takk. Takk for the reminder.” She sucked in a deep breath and felt her shoulders drop from her earlobes. Another breath. “Less than two weeks until school is out. One horse cannot pull that plow or disc, can she?”

“Nei. But perhaps while they are blasting, the team would be available. Have you driven a team and plow before?”

Signe shook her head. “But it cannot be too hard.”

“Much easier with the newer plow, but ask Rune. Come to think of it, he will probably be plowing the fields anyway.”

That night, Signe and Rune sat in the kitchen talking after the others had gone to bed. “Could you please work up the garden before you start on the fields?” she asked.

He looked up from reading his verses for the day and rubbed his eyes. “It is getting nearly impossible to read this any longer. Some days seem better than others but . . .” He blinked. “Ja, I will plow tomorrow. We are going to church on Sunday, even though I hate to take a day from digging the cellar.”

“Have you blasted out enough stumps?”

“There will never be enough until all the big trees are gone and the land is all clear. With Ivar here, we will make more progress. I plan to leave a couple standing on our land. A grove of hardwoods at the south line would be something to think about.”

“Sugar maples? I dreamed we would have birch trees up by our house.” Not that either of them had much time to dream, but . . .

He gave her a half smile, and there was a faraway look to his eyes. “After the house and well house, I want to build a wood shop. I believe making skis could be something to bring in money when the big trees are gone. Farming is good, but making furniture can be a good wintertime living.” He turned to look through the wall in the direction of their future home. “Shame we have to come back right after church, but that cellar is critical so we can raise the house in June. I’ve been thinking that I would like to make our house two full stories with an attic. We might have enough to pay for the lumber to do that.” He stretched his arms over his head and twisted from side to side. “Morning comes sooner than I am ready.”

Sunday morning, Signe observed that getting out of the house to get to church on time was easier now that the sun came up earlier. Bjorn had the horse hitched and the wagon by the door in plenty of time.

“You could leave the baby here with me,” Gerd offered.

“Takk, but this way you get some time off.”

Gerd rolled her eyes. “I will start dinner, and then I was thinking about a dress for her. I have not done any smocking for years, and that pink gingham will do nicely.”

“Mor, we’re going to be late.” The call came from the smaller wagon that Rosie could pull. Einar had the team hitched to the plow and was already out in the field.

When they were finally under way, Signe drew in a deep breath of spring morning. Gerd should have come with them. Perhaps by next Sunday, Signe would be able to talk her into it.

At church, Mrs. Benson met them at the door. “Oh, I am so glad to see you.” After talking with Kirstin, she locked her arm through Signe’s. “You come sit with us.” She looked at Rune. “How are things going?”

“Trying to get the cellar dug so we can start the house in June.”

“Won’t a house of your own be wonderful?” She patted Kirstin’s cheek and this time received a smile. “She is growing so fast.”

“My brother and sister will be here in a couple of weeks,” Rune added.

“Oh, folks from home. I can’t wait to meet them.” The organ invited the last of the stragglers to the sanctuary. “Come, Mr. Benson has saved the row for you.”

Signe sat down with a sigh and let the music wash over her. Mr. Larsson, from the school, had a way with the organ. Such a talented man, both a teacher and a musician. Shame that none of her boys, nor she or Rune, played an instrument. Her far had played the fiddle. She should have asked him to teach one of the boys.

Reverend Skarstead took his place at the front and raised his hands. “Come, let us worship our Lord with our opening hymn, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’” The organist pumped his feet, and the familiar song filled the room.

Signe closed her eyes, the better to hear the words and tamp them into her mind to come back to when she needed them. “Lord God almighty.” Help me remember you are indeed the mighty God. “Ever more shall be.” Not just today, but every day and every moment of every day. “Though the darkness hide thee.” Lord, help me to always look for thee and thy face. “Though the eye of sinful man, thy glory may not see.”

Kirstin wiggled in her arms. Signe shifted her daughter and swayed in time to the music. The harmony on the “amen” must be what heaven would sound like when she got there.

If you get there. That little voice that always sought to bring her discontent and fear. It even followed her through the church doors.

When they were seated again, Signe snuggled Kirstin close and swayed just enough to calm her. At least she would not be demanding to be fed during the service.

“Today we read Luke 13:10–17, concerning the travels of Jesus and the miracles He performed everywhere He went.

“Jesus was teaching in the synagogue—in church, like we are here—and a woman came in who was so bent over that she could not straighten herself to look anyone in the face, let alone see Jesus. She was always looking down, had been for many years. And yet she came to worship, because that is what a good Jew does on the Sabbath. The men worshiped on one side, and the women and the children on the other.” He paused and looked around at his congregation. “We are privileged in that we get to worship as families. I see all ages here, and that is as it should be. When I think of that poor suffering woman and the terrible pain she must have endured, I marvel that she came anyway.” He paused and looked around. “She came anyway. So often situations happen to keep us from worship. You are ready to leave, and the cows get out. One of the children comes in bleeding from a slight accident, or someone starts throwing up. All these parts of life that seem to occur especially on Sunday morning to keep us from worship. During the winter, the weather is a factor, making it impossible for us to get here. During the spring, it is planting, summer and fall, harvest. All things that need to be done, have to be done.” He nodded. “Life is just that way.

“Yet God ordained that on the seventh day, we should rest, like He did. And if God needed to rest, what about us? Is showing up for worship a form of rest? Is doing something different on Sunday afternoon a form of rest? I know, I am full of questions today, and none of them have easy answers. But . . .” He held up his index finger and waited. “But learning to listen for His answers, His guidance, can help us develop the wisdom to choose wisely the things we will do. As farmers and loggers, we live by the seasons. And while the land rests under snow, we are out cutting trees. Hard, hard work. But when we show up, God blesses us. Just as Jesus did with that woman. Jesus healed her so she could stand straight, and she went out rejoicing and singing praises. So when we put God first, and that is a lifelong lesson, He blesses us for showing up. He gives us rest and healing, and we find joy in His will. Amen.”

Signe felt Leif leaning against her and Kirstin asleep in her arms, so she stayed seated when the others stood. Lord God, help me to show up. Here, especially, even when it isn’t easy.

After the benediction, Signe gathered up her things, careful not to wake the baby in her arms.

Mr. Benson shook Rune’s hand. “Good to see you. How are things going out there?”

“I’ve learned how to dynamite stumps. Good thing, since there is only a forest more of them to deal with.”

“Ah, so true. Wrestling with the big trees and turning the land into farmland is not a dream for the faint of heart.” Mr. Benson smiled at Leif and Knute. “You boys are nearly out of school, aren’t you?”

“Ja, then we can help dig out our cellar even more.”

“Good, so you’ve started on your house?”

Rune nodded. “We have. There’s never enough time to do everything, though.”

“Ja, that is true. Could you use a hand with the cellar digging?”

Rune stared at him, and Signe could almost see the visions of a rampaging Einar stomping through his mind. “Well, of course.”

“Your place is beyond the home farm, right?”

“Right. We have a path now across the field behind the barn.”

Mr. Benson smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe if we get you some help, you’ll have more time to be part of our church family. Won’t have to run off so fast.”

Rune nodded. “Takk. I’m sure you’ll hear us back there. Signe can point out the path.”

Reverend Skarstead stood by the door, greeting folks as they filed out. “Good to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson.” He looked at Bjorn. “Now you are . . . ?”

“Bjorn Carlson, sir. I work with Onkel Einar out in the woods during the week and at our place on Sunday.”

Her middle son piped up. “I’m Knute, and this is my little brother, Leif.”

“Seems to me, I heard you like to go fishing,” the reverend said.

Knute grinned. “Yes, sir. Hunting too.”

“A man after my own heart. You know my son, Olaf, from school.”

“Oh, ja, Olaf. He is very good at Red Rover.”

“He says exactly the same of you. Next time we go fishing, we’ll see if you can’t come too.”

“Takk, sir.”

In the wagon on the way home, Knute said, “That Reverend Skarstead, he’s pretty nice, huh?”

“Ja, he is.” Rune clucked the horse into a trot. “Let’s get on home, Rosie. We’ve got work to do.”

Later, Signe and Leif worked out in the garden, digging around the raspberry bushes that had sent up lot of shoots. “Soon as your far plows and discs this, we can start planting,” she told him.

She shaded her eyes with her hand at the sound of horses coming up the lane. Mr. Benson really is coming to help. And he brought three other men with him! When she had mentioned to Gerd that some men might come to help dig the cellar, the older woman had snorted and shaken her head, as always, doubting everyone’s intentions.

“Leif, you go with them to show the way,” Signe said, and he dashed out of the garden.

Mr. Benson waved to her. “My wife said she would try to come out one day this week.”

“Takk. And takk for coming too. Just follow Leif.”

“Come on, son, you can ride with me.”

The four men rode on out to the hole in the ground, and Signe turned back to the raspberry bushes, her heart lightened by the act of friendship.

Rune stopped shoveling when he heard horses approaching. “They really did come to help.” He took off his hat to wipe his forehead with the back of his arm. “Good to see you,” he called to Mr. Benson.

“Not sure if you’ve met all these men, but it’s about time.” Mr. Benson waited for Leif to slide off his horse, then dismounted. “Looks like we got our work cut out for us.”

He introduced the others and, shovels in hand, they all jumped down into the hole, not deep enough yet that they couldn’t throw the dirt out. They spaced themselves out so as not to get in each other’s way and fell to digging. Dirt flew up and over the growing piles. When someone hit a rock, they dug around it, and several men got together to hoist it over the edge. Less than two feet down, they hit dense clay and gravel. Rune sent Bjorn and Knute to the shop for fence post diggers, a mattock, and a pickaxe. One of the men had brought a pickaxe too. They took turns loosening the gravel so it could be shoveled out.

“You’re going to need the wheelbarrow and a ramp for the middle section,” Mr. Benson said to Rune.

“Sooner than I thought, thanks to all of you.” Rune wiped the sweat from his face.

“Mor sent coffee and water,” Leif said, toting two jugs to the edge of the cellar hole. He set them on one of the mounds of earth. “What are we going to do with all this dirt?” he asked.

Good question. Rune would have to think about that.

After the brief break, the men returned to digging, slower now but still making progress, until one of the men announced he had to go home to do chores. Another said the same, and with Rune’s heartfelt thanks ringing in their ears, the two men rode out. Leif and Knute headed up to the barn to do the same; the other four kept on.

Rune kept watch on Einar, who was plowing the cornfield. Dread made him dig harder. If Einar came over here and ordered these men away—wait. He could not. This was Rune’s land, not Einar’s. Still, he could raise a nasty fuss. Just the thought of that . . . Lord, please keep him out there.

Sometime later, Mr. Benson checked his pocket watch. “I think we need to hang it up for today. I know you’ve got a lot to go, but there’s progress.” He stretched his arms and shoulders. “Reminds me that digging uses different muscles. Hope you got a good bottle of liniment, but then, you’ve been working in the woods.” He stared across the field at Einar. “Planting corn?”

Rune nodded. “I cannot begin to thank you for your help.”

“Will try to get back again.” Mr. Benson mounted his horse. “Your Bjorn is a good worker.”

“Ja, he is. Smart, too.”

Rune and Bjorn dug until they saw Einar heading for the barn and the setting sun painting clouds in the west. Gathering up their tools, they trudged up to the shop and put them away. Rune clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Hopefully we can get some more done tomorrow night.”

Rune and Bjorn both loaded up with wood for the kitchen stove and dumped it in the woodbox in the kitchen.

“Einar, you know where any more downed or dead trees are?” Rune asked. “About done with that last one.”

“The boys can start sawing up the bigger branches from those earlier stacks. Can’t burn again until next winter.”

“Will that be dry enough for stove wood?”

He nodded. “And there’s a birch west of your property.”

“Saw those limbs by the stacks?” Bjorn asked.

Einar nodded. “Bow saw will work. No sense loading ’em on a wagon.”

“Supper’s on.” Gerd set chicken and dumplings on the table and waited while the men and boys took their places.

Rune breathed a sigh of relief that Einar seemed normal, not about to blow like he’d expected. “Let’s have grace.” Together they repeated the grace in Norwegian, and at the amen, Einar reached for the bowl of biscuits. He dished up his plate and ate without a word.

Rune gave Signe a raised-eyebrows look. Her return smile made all the hard work worthwhile.

Bjorn asked, “Far, what if we used dynamite to help dig the cellar? That should make a hole.”

“Ja, blow it up!” Knute said. The boys looked at each other and chuckled.

Einar slammed his palm down on the table. “That dynamite is no joke!” His voice exploded, sending the laughter into hiding.

Kirstin answered with a piercing shriek.

Gerd glared at her husband. “Now see what you’ve done! Scared the baby!”

Einar glared but said nothing. Apparently he was no more interested in babies than he was in children or kittens or life.