Ward and the boys walked down the path toward Freyda’s house. Or mostly the boys ran and he lengthened his stride to keep up. They reached the door before he did and Freyda welcomed them each with a hug.

He stood behind his boys. Might be nice to be hugged too, but he had already informed himself that he could not be yearning after things out of his reach so he settled for saying, “Good morning.”

“Good morning to all of you.”

He allowed himself to think her smiling eyes might have lingered somewhat longer than her greeting required.

“Did you have coffee? Do you want some, or are you anxious to get to work?”

For a moment, he forgot about work, but forced it back to the forefront of his thoughts. “I had coffee at home, thanks. I’ll be getting to your seeding.” He headed for the small pasture where Boots and Boss grazed and whistled for them. They trotted over and he led them to the barn.

He wasn’t surprised, nor disappointed, that Freyda followed him and insisted on trying to do the harnessing.

Boss and Boots were not as gentle or as well trained as his pair and tossed their heads and resisted her attempts.

He grabbed their halters and ordered them to stand still.

They snorted, but obeyed him. He held them as she harnessed them and stepped to one side as she took them to the seeder.

“Back up,” she ordered, pulling on the reins exactly as he had taught her.

But Boots shuffled to one side and Boss refused to move.

“I’ll help you,” Ward offered.

“And who will help me when you’re done here?” She ground the words out over gritted teeth.

If he needed any more proof that she still clung to her determination to run this farm as she and Baruk had planned, that was it. So he stood helplessly to one side as she struggled with the horses and yelled at them in Norwegian. He didn’t ask what she said. Figured it was best to keep his mouth shut until she was ready to ask for help.

She dragged her arm across her forehead to wipe off the sweat then jammed her fists to her hips and stared at the horses. She spun around to face him. “I’ll trade you straight across. My horses for your horses.”

He laughed then cut the sound at the look she gave him.

“I like my pair just fine. And yours will be good too. They’ve simply gotten fat and lazy.”

“Lazy and rebellious. Why I have half a mind to—” She tossed her hands upward. “I give up. Will you put the stubborn beasts to work? Maybe that will take some of the cantankerousness out of them.” She crossed to the house, muttering about horses.

The boys looked from Ward to Freyda.

“She’s mad,” Kit said.

Ward paused from his task. Were the boys afraid of her? Surely not. But then, he’d trusted Mrs. Wright and look what she’d done. He’d trusted Dorothy enough to marry her and it had been a mistake. He watched Freyda. He believed his sons were safe with her. Could he be wrong?

“Come on,” Milo said. “She’s not mad at us. Let’s go see her kitten.”

Kit followed his brother. “Papa says I can have my own kitten.”

Relieved to know his faith in Freyda’s kindness was shared by the boys, Ward took the now cooperative horses to the field. He worked close enough to the house to be able to see Freyda and the boys as they went to the chicken house, then played with the kitten. After that, they played some sort of game that involved the two boys chasing Freyda. Once they caught her she tickled them, then they ran away so she had to chase them. Again, she caught them and tickled them.

Ward grinned as their rowdy laughter reached him. But deep inside, lay a spot that ached at their play. They needed someone like Freyda in their lives every day. And he could not convince himself he meant only the boys.

When the sun was high overhead, Freyda and the boys walked to the field to inform him dinner was ready. She stayed at his side as he took the horses to the barn for their midday break.

She scowled at the animals. “Looks to me like you lost some of your snuff and stuff this morning.”

He chuckled. “A couple of days working hard and they’ll be a gentle as lambs. Especially if you reward them with their favorite treat.”

“That I will.” She gave them each a ration of oats.

Ward walked at her side to the house where Milo and Kit waited on the step for them.

“I hope you like Norwegian food, because that’s what I’ve prepared for you.”

Wanting to ease the worried tone from her voice, he said, “I’m not familiar with Norwegian food, but I can tell by looking at you that it is good.”

She stopped to stare at him, her gaze guarded. “What does that mean?”

He hadn’t thought before he spoke and now couldn’t think how to explain what he meant. He could hardly say Norwegian food made for a beautiful woman. “Well, you’re strong and stubborn.”

At the way her eyes narrowed he corrected himself.

“I mean determined. It’s a good thing.”

She nodded, still not satisfied.

What did he have to lose if he said what he was thinking? “Yup, you’re strong, determined, and beautiful.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. She clicked it shut, swallowed hard. “Me? Beautiful?” The words squeaked from her throat.

“Don’t you own a looking glass?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you already know it.” He shrugged and continued toward the house.

It took three seconds for her to follow. “My looking glass doesn’t talk.”

That struck him so funny he tipped his head back and roared with laughter.

The boys caught his hands on either side, and even though they didn’t understand what amused him so, they laughed.

Freyda slipped by them, a pleased smile on her lips and opened the door. “Welcome to my home.”

He stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the little thing on the door with hanging bells and strings that played musical notes as the balls moved.

She noticed his interest. “My door harp to welcome you.”

“Nice.” He glanced around. He’d been in the house many times when Baruk lived there. But it looked different. It might have been the scallops of lace on the front of the shelves, or the bright red flowers decorating the chest by the door.

He sniffed. “Smells good.”

“I hope you enjoy it. Please sit.”

The four of them sat around the square table with lots of room on either side. As if expecting a growing family. He pushed aside the silly thought.

She indicated he should ask the blessing.

“Don’t I get to see what I’m grateful for first?” He sounded slightly worried.

“Nope.” She smiled like she had a secret.

“Okay.” He bowed his head and thanked God for sunshine, for rain, and for food. “Amen.”

Then she brought serving dishes to the table. Mounds of mashed potatoes, little discs of carrots, and large meatballs. “It looks about the same as what we’ve been eating.”

She chuckled. “Norwegians are good at making meals from what is handy. These—” She pointed to the meatballs. “Are known as meat cakes.”

He tasted everything and gave an expansive sigh. “I like Norwegian cooking.” A beat. “And Norwegian neighbors.” He meant it as a compliment and would have said even more, but he had to honor their agreement even when he ached for things he couldn’t name. But her eyes darkened and narrowed as if she found his words not to her liking. He couldn’t imagine why.

They didn’t linger over the meal. Both of them understood there was an urgency to get the crop planted as quickly as possible.

Freyda and the boys followed him back to the barn, but she stood aside and let him deal with the horses. His heart lurched to the side. Did it mean she no longer wanted to be independent? “You’ve given up on handling them?”

“I’ve decided I’ll give them a day or two to settle down. I got to thinking that by struggling with them and constantly losing that I am teaching them bad habits. Instead, I am going to let you get them used to working. I’m going to teach them to see me as a friend.” She pulled two carrots from her pocket and offered them to the horses, who took them eagerly. While they munched the treat, she patted their necks. “Good boys,” she murmured. Her voice remained gentle as she added, “Sooner or later we will settle who is boss, but for now, enjoy a treat.”

She stepped aside so he could drive them back to the field.

Laughing, he spoke to the horses. “You might as well get used to the idea. Freyda isn’t one to change her mind.” He glanced back at her with a grin. He meant to be amusing, but knowing how unlikely it was that she would change her mind about being independent turned his insides sour.

* * *

Freyda spent much of the afternoon playing with the boys and her kitten before she turned her attention to supper preparations. Ward hadn’t said, but she assumed he would continue to work until almost dark. It was already June. The crop needed to be in the ground.

As she set the boys at tasks to help prepare the meal, she hummed. It was nice sharing her home with them. The future looked bleak and lonely. No. she would not allow those sort of thoughts.

She gave the boys a hearty snack, deciding she would feed them supper along with their father.

As meal time approached, she grew breathless as if her heart had taken up too much room in her chest. She told herself it was not so. It was only hunger. Only anxiety. Only…only…

She could not finish, for the word that begged to be said sucked her heart back to half its normal size. Still she could not fill her lungs.

Milo looked at her, startled, as she slammed the kettle to the stove.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice catching. “Wasn’t thinking about what I was doing.”

Milo eased over to stand by the stove and studied her. “What were you thinking about?”

Even with her eyes closed she could have read the longing in his voice and with her eyes wide open, she saw it in his eyes. “Milo, I was thinking how much I enjoy having you and Kit in my house. Even when you are gone home, I will remember you playing with Smokey, and helping me make the meals.” She hugged him.

“Maybe we don’t have to go.” He sounded so hopeful she felt her heart crack.

“You will go home with your papa. But you will come back tomorrow.” She knew he didn’t mean solely today. But she could offer him nothing more than the days it took for Ward to seed the crop.

“I know.” Milo moved away. He did not join his brother playing with Smokey. Instead, he went to the window and stared out.

She wondered what he saw, or maybe, what he sought. Was she doing the right thing in getting so fond of the boys and allowing them to grow fond of her? But she could not do otherwise while spending time with them.

“When is Papa going to stop?” Milo asked.

She joined him at the window. The sun was low in the west. “Why don’t we go ask him?”

“Okay.”

So the three of them crossed to the field.

“I was just about to quit for the day.” Ward unhitched the horses and they headed back to the yard.

Freyda stayed at his side. There was so much she wanted to say, but didn’t dare. They had become friends. Good neighbors. That had to be enough.

Darkness had closed in around them by the time the horses had been attended to and the meal eaten. She handed him the lantern he had lent her the evening before. “I’ll wait until I see you swing it so I know you are all home safely.” She stood at the doorway and watched the light of the lantern bob in time to Ward’s steps. Occasionally something blocked it from view and she imagined it was one of the boys running by.

Then it swung in a wide arc. They were home. She swung hers too. The light disappeared as they went indoors and then a yellow glow appeared at the window. Only then did she go inside. Into her too-quiet house with her too-lonely heart.

That night she took her Norwegian Bible from the chest and began to read it. She had been reading her English version, but needed answers that she could only find in her native language. God, have I made a mistake coming to America? God, what is it I need? What are Your plans for me?

She pored over familiar verses, read several Psalms, but the answer eluded her.

* * *

They settled into a routine over the next few days. Ward fed the boys breakfast before bringing them to the house. Freyda gave the horses two days of work and then succeeded in getting them into harness.

She laughed, though she feared tears would accompany her joy, and hurried away. Why couldn’t she be satisfied with her accomplishment? Why did her heart feel so hollow?

They shared meals, laughed about the boys’ antics, and talked about the farm.

But it all felt so empty.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Ward announced over dinner.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Perhaps at church she would find the answers for her restless soul.

“I promised Kit we’d see if Anker had another kitten for him. Do you think your brother will mind if we go out there?”

She chuckled. “Oh, he will mind alright.” She waited while Ward rubbed his neck. “He’ll mind if we don’t go. You know how it is. I’m the little sister he has to take care of.”

Ward went from worried to laughing. “Maybe you should invite him to your place to show him how you are managing.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll do that for the following Sunday.” Only she wouldn’t be harnessing her horses on Sunday to show Anker she could do it, and she’d have to admit that Ward had seeded her crop. “Arranging help shows that I have found a way to manage.”

His eyes were full of dark approval. “It certainly is a wise way to handle things.”

“Thanks.” Only she didn’t feel gratitude, so much as frustration. Lord, I seek Your guidance.

Sunday morning, Ward drove to Freyda’s house with the boys in the back of the wagon. He helped her to the seat and they made their way to town.

Again, they encountered Klaus and Gerda Hoffmann.

Mrs. Hoffmann addressed Freyda. “I will come to visit this week and welcome you. I apologize for not coming sooner, but I’ve not been feeling well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you better now?” Freyda thought the woman looked the picture of health.

“I am better and in a few months I will have a baby. I am so happy.” Indeed, the woman glowed.

“Congratulations.” Freyda pressed her hand to her waist. She’d hoped she and Baruk would have made a baby before he left. It didn’t happen. Kit pressed to her arm. Now she loved two little boys. But—

She sighed.

The Hoffmanns drove on.

“Are you okay?” Ward asked.

She managed a smile. “I am fine.”

He said nothing more, but he glanced sideways at her several times before they reached the church.

Anker, Lena, and Nels waited in the yard and greeted them. Anker hugged Freyda.

“You are still keeping company with him?” He spoke in Norwegian.

“Would you prefer I come alone to town?” She too spoke in Norwegian.

Anker studied her, shaking his head. “Perhaps it is for the best. He is capable of looking after you.”

She pursed her lips. Anger and frustration knotted her stomach. “Anker Hansen, I do not need looking after.” She said it in English and loud enough to cause a few heads to turn toward her then she grabbed a boy in each hand and marched into the church.

Ward followed. They sat down, Kit between them.

She glanced at Ward. A smile played around his mouth. “It’s not funny,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Depends on one’s point of view.” He met her gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mirth. And approval?

Liking that thought, her anger dissipated, and she smiled back at him.

Anker and Lena slid in behind them. Lena leaned forward. “Good for you to setting Anker straight.”

Freyda glanced back at her brother. He didn’t look as if anything had been straightened out in his mind. She met his scowl with a smile and turned back to the front as Reverend Sorrow took his place in the pulpit.

They sang familiar hymns. Freyda found the English words more and more comfortable. The singing done, the preacher announced his text.

“Today I am going to talk to you from the Twenty-Third Psalm. I’m sure you can all quote it. ‘The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want…’”

Hugh quoted the entire Psalm but two portions stuck in Freyda’s head. ‘He leadeth me beside still water…he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness.’ That was what she desired. To be led to a place where her heart would be at peace and she’d know she walked in the right way.

She listened keenly to every word and vowed she would cling to her trust and faith in God. If there was to be any change in her goals and plans, He would have to make it plain.

After the service, she told Lena of Ward’s promise of a kitten for Kit. “If there are still some available?”

“There are still three and please, join us for dinner.” So again, they followed the Hansens to their place.

Anker waited as they drove up to the house and reached out to help Freyda down. She would have refused, but could not bring herself to act rudely, so she took his hand and stepped to the ground beside him.

“Freyda, it’s only that I’m worried about you.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But it’s time you realized I’m grown up.”

“So you keep saying and so does Lena. Now if you were to remarry—” He nodded toward Ward.

Freyda jerked Anker’s arm. “Don’t even think it. We are good neighbors, nothing more.” She joined Lena in the kitchen. “My brother can be so annoying.”

“He can be stubborn. I think it might be a family trait.”

Freyda laughed. “You might be right. But I don’t need looking after.”

Lena thickened the gravy. “Would you mind mashing the potatoes?”

Freyda did so as Lena talked. “I had the same notion a year ago. My husband had died and I vowed I would manage on my own. It was hard work, but I did okay until my house burned down.”

Freyda had heard the story and wondered why Lena was retelling it.

Lena handed Freyda a bowl for the potatoes then she poured the gravy into a thick white jug. “What I learned was life can be lonely and hard. I knew I could deal with that. But in my heart I wanted something more. I found that with Anker.” Her smile was soft and her glance sought the distance. “I suppose it came down to letting go of my stubbornness. In the end, it wasn’t all that hard, because I trusted him.”

Freyda smiled at her sister-in-law. “I’m glad for both of you.”

“You might discover the same thing.”

Freyda stopped, the bowl of potatoes in her hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lena chuckled. “I see the fondness between you and Ward.”

“We’re neighbors. That’s all.”

“Perhaps that is true at present. But don’t let your pride and stubbornness stop you from seeing it could be more.”

Lena swallowed hard. “You make it sound so simple. So easy.” As if Freyda could simply change her whole reason for being in America and by so doing, cause Ward to change his mind about his choices.

Lena chuckled. “Someday I will tell you about the hard struggle I went through last winter trying to ignore what was right before my eyes.”

The men tromped in at that moment with the three boys, and to Freyda’s relief, the conversation ended.

Anker and Ward had taken the boys to see the kittens and Kit couldn’t stop talking about the one he would take home.

“His name is Skunk.”

Freyda choked back her laughter. “I wonder if it’s black and white.”

Kit nodded. “Just like my skunk.” Kit told his side of the skunk story and Ward told his side.

Anker and Lena laughed.

The rest of the meal passed in happy chatter that carried on until time to leave for home.

“I’d like you all to come to my place after church next Sunday.” Freyda let her gaze rest on Anker. “That way you can see how well I am doing.”

“We’ll be there,” he said.

She turned to Nels. “You too.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He’d seemed quiet all afternoon, almost sad. She’d asked for news about Inga. Nels said he’d had no letters. Poor man was missing the woman he loved.

Kit sat in the back of the wagon, cradling his kitten in his lap and smiling so widely Freyda chuckled. She nudged Ward. “Now you have two kittens to look after. Do you think you are up to it?”

“I hope it’s easier and less worry than looking after two boys.”

“If you were to remarry, the boys would be taken care of.”

His lips drew into a harsh frown. “I know firsthand what happens to children raised by someone other than their mother. I will never subject my sons to that sort of treatment.”

“Not all woman are alike. Many raise children they didn’t birth. Your boys are easy to love.” Too bad Lena and Anker couldn’t hear this conversation. It would put a stop to them thinking Freyda should think about marrying her neighbor.

Not that Freyda had considered such a thing. The last thing Ward and his boys needed was a woman who couldn’t stick to her plans. Yet questions plagued her.

Did coming to America really give her what she wanted?