Chapter
27

Dear Mor,

Thank you for your letter. I have to apologize for not writing more often since we arrived. Life here is full of challenges as we try to keep up with the regular summer work, and now they are working on Rune’s house whenever possible. I’m not sure if I told you that Onkel Einar had an accident with a new team of horses hitched to the disc. He injured his head in the fall, and he is very angry that he cannot be out cutting down the big trees.

Nilda felt like saying a lot more, but she wanted to get the letter in the mail the next day when she and Signe went to Benson’s Corner for their language class. The thought of the class made her tap the end of the pencil on her chin. Signe had been teasing her that Mr. Larsson spent a good part of the class looking at her. Surely that wasn’t so, but it did make Nilda watch him more closely, so that their glances often intersected. Strange.

She returned to her letter.

Ivar is helping in so many different ways. I did not realize how very adaptable he can be. He and Bjorn have become a good team, both in the woods and on the farm, while Knute spends his time with both, along with taking charge of splitting wood for the kitchen stove. Leif is busy taking care of the farrowing sows, their babies, the hens and chicks, and his baby sister. I wish you could see her laugh and wiggle when he comes near. She has a lot to say, if only we could understand her.

Tante Gerd is able to do more around the house all the time. One day she even went out to the garden to pick lettuce for supper. I think she misses being outside. She set Kirstin in the wagon and brought her along.

Rune and Signe will have a wonderful, big house when it is finished. People from the church have promised to come help with the house-raising, in spite of Onkel Einar telling everyone to stay off his land. I still have no idea where all his anger has come from. It might be easier if I understood what is behind it all. Rune and Signe do not know either, but they are making friends at church and in the community.

I still long for the mountains at home, the seter, and all our family. How I wish you and Far would come here. Norway might as well be in another world. How is your garden doing this year? What is happening with the newlyweds? Uff da. Now I am getting more homesick than ever.

Oh, we will set up the loom at the new house when it is built. And Tante Gerd said we would get a small flock of sheep before fall. Leif is so excited that we will have lambs next spring. More babies for him to take care of.

Remember the young man that we met on the ship that I wrote about? He works in Blackduck at the lumberyard. He and Ivar were talking about working in a logging camp this winter. Ivar would get paid extra if he took one of our teams to work there too. They have not talked with Onkel Einar yet, though. There is plenty of time to talk about that before they would leave. I am sure Bjorn would want to go along too, but he is needed here. They are felling more trees with Ivar here even though Onkel Einar is laid up.

This letter is growing into a book, so I will stop now. Greet everyone for me, for us. I am not the only one who dreams of home, although this place is becoming home too. Please write soon, and I shall try to do better.

Your loving daughter and the rest of the family here,

Nilda Carlson

She folded the pages and tucked them into an envelope. Writing the address on the front led to wiping away a tear. In spite of sniffing and swallowing, more tears followed. She laid her head on her arms, and let both tears and thoughts flow. She’d never see her family again, never hold the babies born, inhale the fragrance of home, trek in the mountains, hear the spring freshets leaping down the creek beds, card the wool, spin and weave with her mor.

She cried for a while without making noise so as not to wake the others who needed their sleep so badly. Carefully, she stood and stepped outside onto the porch. Sinking down on the steps, she stared up at the stars arching across the azure sky, the same stars she had seen at home, but which somehow seemed closer there. She wiped her eyes on her apron. Fireflies danced, a cricket sang, and the breeze kissed her cheeks, drying the tears. She inhaled the fragrance of turned earth in the garden, the faint touch of pine, the barnyard and chicken coop, and sighed.

Pushing herself up to her bare feet, she ambled to the outhouse, then returned to tiptoe up the stairs and slip into bed without waking anyone else.

“Are you all right?” Signe’s whisper tickled her ear.

“Ja.” I will be by morning.

A verse floated through her mind. “Weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” Surely this was true and always would be.

Late the next afternoon, she and Signe hitched Rosie to the cart and trotted down the lane to attend their language class. Since they had missed the last one, they practiced their lesson from the week before all the way to the church. Not that they hadn’t practiced during the days, but some things needed more time.

Signe stumbled over a phrase, then repeated it three times. “I am not very good at this,” she moaned.

Nilda clucked Rosie into a slow trot. “You’re doing fine, better than some of the others.”

A picture of Mr. Larsson at the front of the class leaped into her mind. Don’t be silly, she told herself. Why would he ever be interested in me?

“Do you have the letters?” Signe asked.

“Ja.” Nilda patted the bag on the seat between them. “And the grocery list to give to Mrs. Benson. Good thing she doesn’t close early in the evening.” Only the clip-clop of trotting hooves rose with the dust of the road.

When they entered the sanctuary of the church, six other students were talking with Mr. Larsson. When he heard them enter, he looked up with a smile that widened when he saw who they were.

“Welcome back. We were about to start.”

“Takk.” Nilda and Signe slid into the pew behind the others.

The teacher handed each of them a sheet of vocabulary words and phrases. “I’m sorry, I should have given you these on Sunday.”

Nilda took the paper. His smile sparkled in his eyes, and she smiled back. He certainly had nice eyes, something she had noticed before. “T-takk.”

The students were laughing more this evening, even when they stumbled on their responses. Nilda and Signe joined in, Signe nudging her when she caught Mr. Larsson smiling at Nilda.

“I told you so,” Signe whispered.

Nilda felt like fanning her face as the heat rose up her neck. Good thing they were sitting behind the others instead of in a circle like they had before.

“Thank you all for coming,” Mr. Larsson said at the end of the class. “And for working hard at learning English. I have a couple of short stories I would like you to read. You won’t know all the words, but I think you will understand anyway. I would like them back at the end of our sessions so I can use them with the next beginning class.”

“Will we continue into the fall?” one of the two men asked.

“Yes, until it gets dark too early for those who come farther.” Mr. Larsson looked at Nilda again. “I am thinking of having a Saturday class until the snow makes things difficult. The longer we can go, the more quickly you will become comfortable speaking English. Please use your new vocabulary when you are talking at home. That is not easy, I know, but that is why we will be working more on phrases and conversation. In another two weeks, we will speak only English during our class time.

Nilda rolled her eyes along with the groans of the others. Signe sent her a look of near panic.

“Now, please, you will do fine. We will keep our conversations simple, using words and phrases you have learned. You will have a good time, really. Tonight we will say our farewells in English.” Mr. Larsson switched to English and repeated what he had just said. “Good night, and I will see you next week. Now repeat that with me.”

They did, and then said the same to each other as they walked down the aisle and out the door.

Signe and Nilda paused on the steps. “Look at the sunset.” Nilda pointed to the bands of brilliant oranges and reds fading to lavender and pinks on the flat clouds above.

“Those are cirrus clouds,” Mr. Larsson said behind them. Then he said the same in English.

“Cirrus?”

“Yes. That word stays the same.” He nodded to them, and they repeated the words with him.

Nilda gazed up at the sky. “It’s so . . . vakker.”

“Yes, beautiful.” Mr. Larsson looked right at her.

“Ah, ah . . .” Nilda fumbled for words.

“Thank you.” Signe’s grin made Nilda want to poke her, but instead she headed for the horse and cart. Since when was she shy and tongue-tied like that? Nilda, my girl, behave yourself. You’ve had men smile at you before. What is so different now?

Signe hummed on the way home as if she had not a care in the world.

They were just turning into their lane when Nilda finally huffed. “I do not want to hear another word about this.”

“About what?” If innocence had a face, it was Signe’s.