Chapter
2
Keeping the house warm was near to impossible, cold as it was outside.
“You boys make sure you wrap that horse blanket around you while you are riding and then blanket the horse.” Signe watched her two younger sons, Knute and Leif, nod like they had heard her say those words every day for years. She handed them a gunnysack with their dinner pails in it. Good thing Mr. Millhause, the school custodian, always had the school rooms warm before the children arrived. Of course, with school only half days on Saturdays, it hardly seemed worth the effort.
They waved as they went out the door. Three-month-old Kirstin shifted in the sling around Signe’s shoulder, in which she had spent most of her life. While Signe and Gerd had always taken turns wearing the sling, Kirstin was getting too big for the older and much weaker woman to carry, especially while making breakfast.
“You sit in that chair and nurse her, and I will fix us something to eat.” Tante Gerd brought the chair closer to the stove. “You would think she already knows when any mealtime for us comes.”
Signe patted the baby through the sling. “I think she forgets she has already been fed once.” While the baby slept through the night now, she was ready to eat long before dawn cracked the horizon. Signe pulled the coffeepot to the hot part of the stove again and settled into the chair. The gray-furred Gra wrapped herself around Signe’s legs.
“Sorry, cat, you will have to wait until the baby is done.”
“Anytime there is a lap, she thinks she should curl up in it.” Gerd paused to take a deep breath. And then another.
Setting the baby to nursing, Signe threw the shawl over her shoulder and the baby. “My goodness, but you are a noisy one this morning.” She watched Gerd for any other signs of recurring weakness. “Did you not sleep well last night?”
Gerd stirred the oatmeal before slicing some bread to toast on the stove top. “No worse than usual. Einar’s snoring must keep all of you awake.”
“Nei. We don’t hear him upstairs.”
Signe refused to refer to the second story as the attic. After all, her whole family slept up there. At least now they all had beds, a very real improvement over sleeping on pallets on the floor. If she allowed herself to dream, she pictured the house they would build on their own land come summer. She and Rune had to fight with Onkel Einar to force him to follow up on his agreement with them, but it would be worth it. If she furthered the dream, someone from home in Norway would come to live with them or with Tante Gerd and Onkel Einar. She knew for a fact that Einar had written to Rune’s mother about bringing Nilda over; he had asked Rune about Nilda’s work habits. There was certainly enough work around here for another person. Of course, Einar would be overjoyed to have another logger helping him fell the big trees. Not that one would ever be able to tell if Einar was pleased with anything.
Glancing down, Signe realized her daughter had already slipped back to sleep. While she was awake more now, as she should be, she found comfort with a full tummy, snuggled against her mor or Tante Gerd. When she was sitting down, Gerd could still wear the sling.
“You ready?” At Signe’s nod, Gerd spooned oatmeal into their bowls and pulled a plate of the toast she’d been making from the warming oven. Hands on her hips, she studied the table. “Anything else?”
“Sometimes I feel guilty seeing you work while I am sitting here.”
Gerd looked at her like she was losing her mind. “After all you did for me?” She heaved a sigh. “I would not be standing here, working in my kitchen, enjoying that baby, if it weren’t for all your persistent hard work. I will never be able to thank you enough.”
Signe stared at Gerd, making sure her chin was not touching her chest. Could this be the same woman who had screamed at her every moment she needed something? Who refused to even try to do things on her own? Who slept all the time? She sniffed back tears of relief—or was it joy? Or gratitude? After all, only God could work miracles like this. Last night she had read in the Bible about being thankful—the hard part—for everything. She would never have said thank you for that Gerd, and now she couldn’t say it often enough. More than one miracle had occurred here, that was certain.
She sniffed again. “Takk, tusen takk many times over.” Signe resettled the baby and turned to her bowl. Nothing tasted as good on a cold morning as steaming oatmeal. “Today is Saturday.”
Gerd turned to look at the calendar on the wall. “Ja, why?”
“That means tomorrow is Sunday, and I really want to go to church. The weather is not so bad.”
“I planned to.” She paused. Might it be better to leave Kirstin here? Gerd could feed her with a bottle. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come with us?” She was as surprised as Gerd at the spoken thought. This would be their first Sunday at the church, but . . . why did there always have to be a but? She ate a couple bites of toast and took a sip of coffee. Still no answer from the woman across the table, who was staring down at her bowl. “We would really be grateful if you came too.”
Was that pain in Gerd’s eyes?
Gerd shook her head. “I think not. There is too much bitterness for me to go.” As she spoke, her head kept moving from side to side.
“But this is church.”
“A church made up of people who have come to despise us. You go and see what it is like, and we shall see.”
“You know Mrs. Benson and Mrs. Solum. They were friendly and helpful.” Signe returned to her oatmeal. “When we have Kirstin baptized, I really want you there. I know Einar won’t come, but I have learned that Einar will do what Einar will do. You have been so good to this baby—you saved her life and mine. I will be in your debt forever.” And one day, we will really be a family, even when we live in the new house.
Gerd shook her head and brushed Signe off with a flutter of her hand. “We will just say we are even, then, and go on from here. Remember, if you decide to leave her with me, mostly because it is so dreadfully cold outside, I will be grateful.”
Grateful. Such a marvelous word.
“And now, you need your coffee heated. Can I get you anything else?”
Signe raised her eyebrows. She dropped her voice and leaned forward. “Are there any cookies left?”
Gerd almost smiled—at least that was what Signe thought the fleeting commas that edged her mouth were. Gerd pushed back her chair and fetched the cookie tin. “I will have to bake again this afternoon. Perhaps Leif will help me. He likes to.”
“As soon as they return from school, they’re going down to the barn. He said he was going to let the cows out for a while and sweep up hayseed for the chickens. But maybe afterward he will help.” Signe lifted her newly warmed coffee cup. “Takk.” She dunked her cookie in the coffee. “Cookies are such a treat. When I was little, my far let me dunk cookies in his coffee like this,” she said with a drawn-out sigh. “Which reminds me, I need to write a letter to Rune’s family. Good thing they pass the letters around.” She paused and gestured with what was left of her cookie. “These are so good. Sugar was often at a premium in Norway.”
“Ja, life is better here in Amerika.” Gerd carried their dishes to the pan on the stove. “I’ll start churning next.”
“Why don’t I do the churning, and you start the cookie dough? I will put her in the cradle first.” The baby cradle they kept near the stove was one of the first things Rune had made after the beds for the boys. Signe and Gerd were both adept at keeping the cradle moving with one foot while their hands were busy with something else.
Late in the afternoon, Leif came slamming in with a grin that delighted his mor. The cookie dough was ready to roll out, and the butter was set in their winter food keeper, a niche installed in the pantry window. That room was so cold, even the cats ate fast and ran to curl up by the stove to wash.
“The chickens really liked the hayseed! You should have seen them scratching and clucking.” While he talked, he hung up his outer things and made sure there was no snow on his boots. “Cookies. Can I help roll them?”
“Ja, I waited for you.” Gerd pushed more wood into the firebox. She glanced at the clock. “You hungry?”
He grinned at her. “I am always hungry. Can we cut the cookies first?”
Gerd almost smiled again. Signe couldn’t stop smiling. She patted the baby nestled on her shoulder and swayed her instinctively from side to side. Thank you, Lord. I cannot say thank you enough. Signe tucked Kirstin into the cradle so her hands would be freer to help with the cookies and dinner. Thank you, Lord, for such a contented baby. What if she was a fusser? Another gift to be grateful for.
“Can I go out to the woods to drag branches after we eat? I’ll come back early for chores.”
“I don’t see why not. Fill the woodbox first and take some cookies with you for the men.”
That night, after all the others had gone to bed, Signe sat down in the kitchen, where it was the warmest, to read her Bible, hopefully without falling asleep with her cheek on the table like she had the night before. Rune had found her that way when he came down to see why she had not come to bed. Perhaps she should get up earlier and read in the morning. In her last letter, Mor had asked if she was reading her Bible. Signe knew she felt better when she did. But like last night, her body overruled her mind. Uff da.
This time Kirstin woke her, probably when Signe’s foot stopped rocking the cradle. She nursed the baby, changed her, and dragged herself and the baby upstairs to bed. Rune drew her close to warm her up.
What would church be like in the morning?
“We’re on our way.” Signe felt like singing the words. It had been a rush, getting the children ready and the baby tended to, but they made it. Now that they were out on the snowy track, Rosie pulling the sledge, she felt almost like a new woman. They were going to church like regular people, like they had in Norway. Thank you, Lord, for this breath of normality.
Rune patted her knee through the robe that covered her and baby Kirstin. “I’m sorry it has taken so long. We could ski faster than the horse and sledge.”
“Hmm.” She looked at Rune. “Have you thought of making skis?”
He shook his head. “Nei. I’m surprised Bjorn hasn’t suggested it.”
Bjorn, their oldest son, popped his head up from the mound of quilts and horse blankets in the wagon bed. “Hasn’t suggested what?”
“Us making skis.”
Knute joined him. “For all of us?”
“Kirstin is a bit small to learn to ski,” Leif added.
“Mor could put her in a backpack.” Knute had either thought of this before or was thinking fast now. “What kind of wood do we need?”
Signe nearly laughed out loud. “Have you ever made skis?”
Rune smiled at her. “Nei, but then, I’ve learned to do any number of new things since we came to Amerika.”
The jingling of the horse harness rang out across the glitter-frosted snow. Laughter, delighted laughter came from their boys—how long since she had heard that? Back home there used to be laughter. Had they lost it on their journey, left laughter behind in the horrible hold of that ship? Signe held her baby closer. Lord, is it that house? Or is it Onkel Einar and Tante Gerd? There will be laughter in our house, she promised herself. From the time we lay the foundation. She let the thought keep going. Anger and meanness could permeate a house like it did a human soul. What would it take to open the door and let laughter clean out Einar’s house? Gerd had almost smiled a couple times yesterday.
“You are being mighty quiet,” Rune said.
“Just thinking. I guess the icy air is clearing my brain. I need to be outside more. Can you make skis out of pine, or do you need a hardwood?”
“We could use deer hide for boot straps.” Bjorn was obviously already planning on making skis.
Rune nodded. “Ash would be best, but I haven’t seen any ash around here. I’ll ask Einar.”
A horse and sleigh caught up with them, and the occupants waved as they passed. Just that bit of kindness made Signe feel calmer. How would they be received at church? No, Mrs. Benson would make them welcome, and the boys already knew other children because of school. The breath she huffed out bloomed in front of her. Rosie probably already had ice crystals about her nose.
When they turned right onto the road to Blackduck, they passed the school, and Rune turned the horse onto the church’s property. Several houses fronted the road beyond that. Signe realized that on her trips to Benson’s General Store, she’d never taken the time to look at the rest of Benson’s Corner—not that there was much to it. The railroad ran along the east side of the town, if one could call it that. Rune pointed ahead to the tracks and a station of sorts.
“That’s where we’ll bring the logs to ship. Einar said we would load them on the sledge before the snow and ground thaw out.” He stopped the horse next to another team tied to the railing. “Bjorn, Knute, blanket the horse and tie on the feed bag.” Behind the school was the shed where the horses spent the school days sheltered from the weather.
Rune came around the sledge to help Signe down, the baby in her sling. “Careful now.”
Another team joined the lineup, the couple nodding and smiling a welcome. Rune shepherded his family to the front of the church, where three steps led up to the carved double doors. He held the door for Signe, then followed her in.
“Mrs. Carlson, you came! Welcome to Our Savior’s Lutheran Church.” With hands outstretched and a smile that warmed Signe from the inside out, Mrs. Benson shook hands with both of them. “And your boys?”
“Taking care of the horse.” Rune pulled off his ear-flapped hat and clutched it to his chest. “I hope we are not late.”
“Right on time. Come inside where it is warmer.” Mrs. Benson beamed. “I am so happy to see you here.” She leaned closer and peeked inside the sling. “Oh my, she is growing so fast. Look at her, still sound asleep. What a beautiful little daughter you have. I know some of the others are anxious to meet you.”
Mrs. Benson led the way through the swinging doors to the sanctuary, where the sun shone through the stained-glass window to jewel the white-painted altar. A man at the organ filled the room with music, calling people to worship. Those already seated in the pews kept their eyes forward, as was proper.
“I think we should sit in the back in case Kirstin gets fussy,” Signe whispered.
“Of course.” Mrs. Benson ushered them into a pew and smiled at the boys, who joined them. “Now, as soon as the service is over, I will introduce you to our pastor, his wife, and some of the others.”
Signe inhaled the fragrance of worship and exhaled the fear of meeting the church people—who might hold a grudge against her family because of Onkel Einar. The organ music swept over her and carried her home to their church in Norway. Thank you, Lord God, she breathed. She could feel Rune studying her, so she nodded, a simple message he would understand. He took the hymnal from the rack on the back of the pew in front of them and found the right place.
When the pastor stood before them and opened the service in Norwegian before switching to English, she felt the tears burn her throat. Had she always been this way back in Norway, or was it because it was so long since they had been to church? With a whole lifetime lived in between?
When the pastor read the gospel passage for the day from Matthew, the words of blessed are they who poured over her. When he reached, “blessed are the peacemakers,” she felt herself flinch inside. Wasn’t that the way she’d been feeling? Living in a house with so much anger? But how to be a peacemaker when others did not want peace?
Kirstin stirred in her arms, so Signe swayed gently, hoping the movement would calm her infant daughter, but at the same time, knowing that if this baby was hungry, she would want to be fed—now. But the motion settled her down again, and Signe glanced down at Leif by her side. He and Knute were quietly entertaining themselves. Bjorn leaned against the corner of the pew, looking like he was about to fall asleep—or was he daydreaming? How long since he had been forced to sit this still and be silent? She knew he would rather be out in the woods, but Sundays in church were more important for the rest of his life than felling one more tree.
The singing just before the sermon woke Kirstin again, and this time swaying did not help. Before Signe could gather herself to rise and leave the sanctuary, the woman in front of them turned enough to give her a nasty look. She nudged the man beside her, and he glanced back too with a slight shake of his head.
“Sorry,” Signe murmured as she pushed her way past Rune and Bjorn.
“You need help?” Rune whispered.
Signe shook her head. Surely there was a room where she could sit to nurse her baby.
As the congregation sat back down, Kirstin moved from fussy to wailing. In the momentary quiet as the reverend waited for calm, everyone knew there was a baby in the back.
Signe slipped through the door to the vestibule, where one of the ushers rose from his chair.
“Ja, can I help you?”
“Is there some place I can feed and change her?” Signe motioned to the squirming bundle in her sling.
“Ja, this way.” He led her to some narrow stairs to the basement. “There are chairs down there.”
“Takk.” She clutched the rail attached to the wall with one hand and the sling tighter with the other. She knew everyone could still hear them and felt her face blazing hot as she took the final steps. She thought of home and how her mor or one of the other ladies would have leaped to come help her. Tears burned her throat and made her sniff. Babies did not seem to be overly welcome here.
Pushing her way through a set of swinging doors, she breathed a sigh. At least the room was warm. She lifted the shawl from around her neck and laid her squirming bundle on a table while she unbuttoned her dress. A bottle might be easier, but then she would need to heat it up. Finally the squalling stopped when Kirstin latched on. The front of Signe’s camisole was soaked with milk that had begun leaking when her baby started fussing. With the shawl tossed over her shoulder to shield any other eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief. Nursing a baby would be far easier in warmer weather.
She put herself back together, changed Kirstin’s diaper, and started toward the stairs, but her sweet baby decided to talk. Shushing an infant did not work, and baby chatter would surely offend those folks sitting in front of them. So she spent the remainder of the service in the basement.
When Mrs. Benson and another woman came down to set out the coffee Signe had been smelling and wishing for in her banishment, gratitude made her own smile wider.
“You remember Mrs. Olavson?” Mrs. Benson leaned over to hold out her finger for the baby.
Signe remembered all right. This was the woman who had been rude in the Bensons’ store. She made sure she smiled and nodded. Mrs. Olavson did not.
“May I hold her?” Mrs. Benson asked.
“Of course.” Signe tucked the blanket around the baby’s kicking legs and handed her off.
Mrs. Benson rocked Kirstin in her arms, talking sweet nothings and grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, she is so precious. I must come out and visit one day soon. I’m so glad you were finally able to come to church today. I’ve been hoping—”
“I will start setting things out.” Mrs. Olavson turned away without another word.
Signe watched her go. A sigh escaped before she could trap it.
Mrs. Benson leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She’ll come around in time.”
“But what did I do?”
“It wasn’t you. It was Einar. It had nothing to do with you, but some people do manage to carry a grudge.” She tickled Kirstin’s cheek and received a wide smile for her effort. “She is so happy.”
“She wasn’t, there for a bit. When she is hungry, she lets the whole world know.”
“I know. Leif thinks she is the best thing that ever happened. His brothers tease him about not being the baby anymore.”
“How is Mrs. Strand? Gerd?”
“She is getting stronger all the time but still tires easily. She plans to get more yarn to knit sweaters for the boys.” The chords of a new hymn drifted downstairs.
“Oh, I better go help. That is the final hymn. Will you be able to stay for coffee?”
“As far as I know. Who were the people right in front of us?”
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Eriksen. I’ll introduce you when they come down for coffee.”
Signe had a feeling those people were among the families Onkel Einar had caused to dislike him so intensely. Why did people have to take sides, even in church?
But she just nodded and thanked Mrs. Benson.
Knute came down the stairs. “Mor, Far wants you to come back up so we can all meet Reverend Skarstead at the door.” Signe nodded and bundled Kirstin back in her shawl. “Hurry.”
Other folks were standing at the top of the stairs, waiting to come down. Signe nodded when she reached them and followed Knute. Rune still stood in their pew, talking with a man. Signe waited, swaying slightly to keep her baby content.
Rune smiled at her and motioned to the man. “My wife, Mrs. Carlson, this is Mr. Garborg. He has a farm west of ours. They passed us on the way to church.”
Mr. Garborg nodded to her. “I am glad to meet you. Welcome to Our Savior’s Lutheran Church.”
“Takk—er, thank you.”
“Many of us speak Norwegian here, so takk is good.” He had switched to Norwegian too.
Signe knew her smile was wider now. Trying to keep up with the English, her baby, and checking on her boys made her weary. “Did you emigrate too?”
“Nei, my parents did. They live in Blackduck. I took over the family farm.” He beckoned to a woman talking with a couple of others. “This is my wife. Come meet Mrs. Carlson. We are near neighbors.”
“Do you live near that lake Onkel—er, I heard about?” Rune asked, nodding toward Knute. “My son wants to go fishing.”
Knute nodded.
“We are ice fishing now. If you come over, I will take you out to our camp.”
“Really?” Knute’s eyes widened and a grin took over his face.
“Ja. Of course.”
“Mr. Garborg loves to fish nearly as much as he loves to farm.” His wife smiled at Knute too. “Perhaps you have met our sons, Thomas and Soren, at school?”
“They are older, like my brother Bjorn.”
“Today is a good day if you want to come over after church and go fishing,” Mr. Garborg said.
Knute looked to Rune. “Could I?” But his grin disappeared. “I don’t have hooks or anything.”
“Oh, we have plenty.” Mr. Garborg turned as the robed pastor approached them. “Reverend, have you met these people yet?”
“Nei. But I am glad to see you here.” He held out his hand to Rune. “Reverend Nels Skarstead.”
Mr. Garborg completed the introduction, and Rune included his three boys, laying a hand on each shoulder as he said, “Leif, our youngest; Knute, middle; and Bjorn is our oldest.” He nodded to Signe. “And this is my wife, Signe, with our baby, Kirstin.”
“Welcome to you all. I hope you will join us in the basement for coffee before you bundle up to head home. I believe Mrs. Benson said you came to Minnesota to help your relatives.”
“I have heard glowing reports on how much help you have been for both of them. Now, can you come to the basement for coffee so you can meet more of our people?”
Rune looked to Signe and then shook his head. “I think we must decline this time, but we will plan on that next week, if all is well at—at home.”
Signe made sure the surprise of him saying “home” did not show on her face. Had they really come to think of that house and farm as home? Had she ever used that term? Home meant so much more to her than the house they were living in. She nodded and half smiled. What more would she need to do to make that house feel like a real home?
Once they were all bundled up and heading back to the farm, she thought on her question. They had good food to eat, the house was clean again, the boys were in school, the men had plenty of work in the woods, while the two younger boys pretty much handled the farm chores. Gerd had gotten much stronger and was able to help with the cooking and keeping the diapers washed and folded. Signe needed to remember to thank Gerd more often for taking charge of the diapers and baby things. First she had sewed the diapers and knitted soakers, and since Kirstin was growing fast and the box of baby things Mrs. Benson had brought was dwindling, Gerd had sewed more gowns and blankets too.
So what was missing? What made a home?