right. I believe that since we live in America, we should talk like good Americans.”
“That’s what Pastor Solberg says too.” Astrid traced a finger trail in the flour on the table. “Toby Valders said a bad word today and got his mouth washed out with soap, and then he had to write on the board fifty times. Used up two whole pieces of chalk.”
Ingeborg sighed.
Forgive me, Lord, but I sure am grateful you didn’t let Penny and Hjelmer adopt those two, no matter how disappointed she was at the time. And now look, you blessed them with Gustaf, the pride of Bridget’s heart . They had named their little son Gustaf after Hjelmer’s father, who had died after most of the family emigrated to America. How Penny would have managed those two ruffians along with her store is beyond me. But then, who but you knew all that in advance?
Ingeborg slid her flat pan into the oven under the rack holding the roasting chicken. All the while she glanced out the window, checking the barns where the men, including George McBride from the deaf school, were busy milking. Andrew should be out there too. Did Haakan know where the boy was so he wasn’t worried?
Astrid wrinkled her forehead, her book on the table as she studied for the morning.
“You may light the lamp if you want.”
“All right. But let me finish the chapter first.”
That alone told Ingeborg her daughter wasn’t doing her arithmetic. Like her brothers, she loved to read.
“You could read aloud. Goldie and I like stories too.” Ingeborg nodded at the orange-and-white-striped cat curled on the rug by the stove. At his name, the animal opened his eyes and treated them to a throat-inspecting yawn. The barbs on his tongue gleamed as he rolled and stretched that too, then began to straighten his fur.
“It’s about a jumping frog contest. Do you know where Calaveras County is?”
“Some place in California, I think. Ask Andrew. He read that story a couple of years ago.”
“We could have a jumping frog contest in the summer. The bullfrogs from over in the swamp jump real good.”
“Sure you could.”
“The jumping frogs of Walsh County.” She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t sound as good, does it?”
“Who cares. It would be fun. We could do it just before harvest starts. We’ll need a party about that time anyway.” Ingeborg pulled her cookie tray from the oven and looked up at the sound of boots kicking off the snow on the back porch.
“Andrew’s home.” Astrid gave her mother a “don’t you say anything” look before the cold draft preceded Andrew into the kitchen.
Thank you, Father God. I do feel more comfortable when all my chicks are home again. Please watch over Thorliff as he travels .
She tried to ignore the glances that Andrew and Astrid swapped, including the giggle from her daughter. “How was school?”
“Good.” He snagged three cookies as he went by. “Good.” This one came from a mouthful of crunchy cookie.
“Is that all you can say?” Ingeborg put an arm out to stop him on his way past.
“No, mange takk.” Another mutter around a full mouth, as he’d just stuffed in the third cookie. He paused, ducked around his mother’s arm, and reached for more cookies. “Tusen takk?” His eyebrow arched at the question.
“Oh, go on with you. The cows are waiting.”
“I sure hope Thorliff gets home before a blizzard hits.”
Me too, oh Lord, me too . She shut the oven door and took down the kerosene lamps from the shelf behind the stove. “Astrid’s going to go blind if we don’t get some light in here.” She glanced over at her daughter, who had her nose so close to the pages that Ingeborg had no idea how she could read at all. Taking the scissors, she trimmed the wicks and lit them both with a spill lighted from the stove. Setting the chimneys back in place, she centered one on the table and kept the other to light the stove area. All the while she fought to keep her inner shivers to just that. Even after all
“That’s what Pastor Solberg says too.” Astrid traced a finger trail in the flour on the table. “Toby Valders said a bad word today and got his mouth washed out with soap, and then he had to write on the board fifty times. Used up two whole pieces of chalk.”
Ingeborg sighed.
Forgive me, Lord, but I sure am grateful you didn’t let Penny and Hjelmer adopt those two, no matter how disappointed she was at the time. And now look, you blessed them with Gustaf, the pride of Bridget’s heart . They had named their little son Gustaf after Hjelmer’s father, who had died after most of the family emigrated to America. How Penny would have managed those two ruffians along with her store is beyond me. But then, who but you knew all that in advance?
Ingeborg slid her flat pan into the oven under the rack holding the roasting chicken. All the while she glanced out the window, checking the barns where the men, including George McBride from the deaf school, were busy milking. Andrew should be out there too. Did Haakan know where the boy was so he wasn’t worried?
Astrid wrinkled her forehead, her book on the table as she studied for the morning.
“You may light the lamp if you want.”
“All right. But let me finish the chapter first.”
That alone told Ingeborg her daughter wasn’t doing her arithmetic. Like her brothers, she loved to read.
“You could read aloud. Goldie and I like stories too.” Ingeborg nodded at the orange-and-white-striped cat curled on the rug by the stove. At his name, the animal opened his eyes and treated them to a throat-inspecting yawn. The barbs on his tongue gleamed as he rolled and stretched that too, then began to straighten his fur.
“It’s about a jumping frog contest. Do you know where Calaveras County is?”
“Some place in California, I think. Ask Andrew. He read that story a couple of years ago.”
“We could have a jumping frog contest in the summer. The bullfrogs from over in the swamp jump real good.”
“Sure you could.”
“The jumping frogs of Walsh County.” She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t sound as good, does it?”
“Who cares. It would be fun. We could do it just before harvest starts. We’ll need a party about that time anyway.” Ingeborg pulled her cookie tray from the oven and looked up at the sound of boots kicking off the snow on the back porch.
“Andrew’s home.” Astrid gave her mother a “don’t you say anything” look before the cold draft preceded Andrew into the kitchen.
Thank you, Father God. I do feel more comfortable when all my chicks are home again. Please watch over Thorliff as he travels .
She tried to ignore the glances that Andrew and Astrid swapped, including the giggle from her daughter. “How was school?”
“Good.” He snagged three cookies as he went by. “Good.” This one came from a mouthful of crunchy cookie.
“Is that all you can say?” Ingeborg put an arm out to stop him on his way past.
“No, mange takk.” Another mutter around a full mouth, as he’d just stuffed in the third cookie. He paused, ducked around his mother’s arm, and reached for more cookies. “Tusen takk?” His eyebrow arched at the question.
“Oh, go on with you. The cows are waiting.”
“I sure hope Thorliff gets home before a blizzard hits.”
Me too, oh Lord, me too . She shut the oven door and took down the kerosene lamps from the shelf behind the stove. “Astrid’s going to go blind if we don’t get some light in here.” She glanced over at her daughter, who had her nose so close to the pages that Ingeborg had no idea how she could read at all. Taking the scissors, she trimmed the wicks and lit them both with a spill lighted from the stove. Setting the chimneys back in place, she centered one on the table and kept the other to light the stove area. All the while she fought to keep her inner shivers to just that. Even after all
Similar Books
