these years and all the blizzards they’d been through, the memories came howling back with the wind.
That terrible second winter when they’d all lived in the soddies, Carl and Kaaren with their two little girls in theirs and Roald, Thorliff, and her in the first one. They’d been housebound, some days not even making it to the barn because the blizzard was so severe and prolonged. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the howling of the wind, but so much less now that they lived in a snug house. Many families had been sick, and when the blizzard broke, Roald took the mule and rode out to check on the other families. Carl and the two girls died of the fever, Kaaren bordered on insanity, and Roald never returned.
The black pit of fear and despair nearly brought her down too, but by the grace of God, the four remaining Bjorklunds had made it through. At times the abyss yawned at her feet again, but she’d learned to let God close it and keep her safe—most of the time.
Andrew thumped back down the stairs and headed for the barn in a rush. He knew he was late, and while Haakan most likely had agreed to the tardiness, Andrew knew better than to take advantage of his father’s good nature.
Later, when they were gathered around the table, the supper finished, Haakan clasped his hands above his head and stretched. “Takk for maten.”
“Velbekomme.” Ingeborg made the age-old response with a smile as she brushed his shoulder with her hand on her way to finish clearing the table.
“Astrid, your mor needs help.”
“Ja, just a minute.”
“No, now.” At his quiet command, she shut her book and picked up the remaining plates and silverware.
“I was just trying to finish the story so Grace could have the book tomorrow.”
“That is kind of you, but chores come first.”
Ingeborg refilled the cookie plate and set it back on the table, at the same time refilling her husband’s coffee cup.
“Ah, you do me good, wife.” Haakan patted her just below her apron strings as she went by. “You think Thorliff is really coming?”
“He said he would.”
“I know, but that was before—”
“Before what?” She turned from shaving curls off the soap bar into the dishpan steaming on the stove. She smiled at Astrid as she took her book into the parlor.
“Before, well, you know, the Anji thing.”
The Anji thing. What a way to put it . Ingeborg tried to gather her thoughts sent awry by his doubt that Thorliff was indeed coming. Surely he would have sent a telegram if something happened to keep him in Northfield. Of course they would understand if he had to work, but the thought of not having everyone home for Christmas made her heart hurt.
“He’ll be here.” Now if only her heart would agree with her mind. Please, God, bring him home, but mostly keep him safe .
“Of course he will.” Haakan dunked another cookie in his coffee.
He leaned back, rocking the chair on the two hind legs until the squeal from the wood earned him a warning stare. “Are they both upstairs?” He’d dropped his voice to a whisper.
Ingeborg shook her head. “They’re by the stove in the parlor.”
“The box came today.”
“You saw Penny?”
He nodded. “I hid it in the machine shed.”
“Good.” So strange it seemed to order Christmas presents from as far away as Chicago or Minneapolis, when for so many years, they’d made all their own gifts. But this year she’d wanted to give Astrid a real doll, one with a porcelain face and curly hair. The set of books they’d ordered for Thorliff would make his eyes sparkle, and the wood-carving tools for Andrew . . . ah, such pleasure she would have watching their delight on Christmas morning.
Another box had come earlier, one her dear husband knew nothing about.
“Why are you smiling so?”
“Nothing. And don’t you go pushing. It’s almost Christmas, remember?”
His chuckle made the secret even more fun. Surprising Haakan was hard. He seemed to have a
That terrible second winter when they’d all lived in the soddies, Carl and Kaaren with their two little girls in theirs and Roald, Thorliff, and her in the first one. They’d been housebound, some days not even making it to the barn because the blizzard was so severe and prolonged. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the howling of the wind, but so much less now that they lived in a snug house. Many families had been sick, and when the blizzard broke, Roald took the mule and rode out to check on the other families. Carl and the two girls died of the fever, Kaaren bordered on insanity, and Roald never returned.
The black pit of fear and despair nearly brought her down too, but by the grace of God, the four remaining Bjorklunds had made it through. At times the abyss yawned at her feet again, but she’d learned to let God close it and keep her safe—most of the time.
Andrew thumped back down the stairs and headed for the barn in a rush. He knew he was late, and while Haakan most likely had agreed to the tardiness, Andrew knew better than to take advantage of his father’s good nature.
Later, when they were gathered around the table, the supper finished, Haakan clasped his hands above his head and stretched. “Takk for maten.”
“Velbekomme.” Ingeborg made the age-old response with a smile as she brushed his shoulder with her hand on her way to finish clearing the table.
“Astrid, your mor needs help.”
“Ja, just a minute.”
“No, now.” At his quiet command, she shut her book and picked up the remaining plates and silverware.
“I was just trying to finish the story so Grace could have the book tomorrow.”
“That is kind of you, but chores come first.”
Ingeborg refilled the cookie plate and set it back on the table, at the same time refilling her husband’s coffee cup.
“Ah, you do me good, wife.” Haakan patted her just below her apron strings as she went by. “You think Thorliff is really coming?”
“He said he would.”
“I know, but that was before—”
“Before what?” She turned from shaving curls off the soap bar into the dishpan steaming on the stove. She smiled at Astrid as she took her book into the parlor.
“Before, well, you know, the Anji thing.”
The Anji thing. What a way to put it . Ingeborg tried to gather her thoughts sent awry by his doubt that Thorliff was indeed coming. Surely he would have sent a telegram if something happened to keep him in Northfield. Of course they would understand if he had to work, but the thought of not having everyone home for Christmas made her heart hurt.
“He’ll be here.” Now if only her heart would agree with her mind. Please, God, bring him home, but mostly keep him safe .
“Of course he will.” Haakan dunked another cookie in his coffee.
He leaned back, rocking the chair on the two hind legs until the squeal from the wood earned him a warning stare. “Are they both upstairs?” He’d dropped his voice to a whisper.
Ingeborg shook her head. “They’re by the stove in the parlor.”
“The box came today.”
“You saw Penny?”
He nodded. “I hid it in the machine shed.”
“Good.” So strange it seemed to order Christmas presents from as far away as Chicago or Minneapolis, when for so many years, they’d made all their own gifts. But this year she’d wanted to give Astrid a real doll, one with a porcelain face and curly hair. The set of books they’d ordered for Thorliff would make his eyes sparkle, and the wood-carving tools for Andrew . . . ah, such pleasure she would have watching their delight on Christmas morning.
Another box had come earlier, one her dear husband knew nothing about.
“Why are you smiling so?”
“Nothing. And don’t you go pushing. It’s almost Christmas, remember?”
His chuckle made the secret even more fun. Surprising Haakan was hard. He seemed to have a
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