A Promise for Ellie (21 page)

“Good idea.”

“I thought to get the forms for the concrete started on the house,” Andrew said.

“We’ll get to that in time. Most likely put it up between haying and harvesting. We’ll all help then. Makes more sense.”

Andrew stared at his plate. He knew his pa was right but . . .

He heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask Ellie to come too.”

“Of course. Then if the fishermen—” Haakan glanced up when he heard his wife clear her throat. “Er, those fishing in contrast to those swimming and playing ball or just plain visiting, if they catch fish, we could have a fish fry for supper.”

“Let the others know. The more the merrier.” Ingeborg smiled at her husband. “We do need a day of rest. The good Lord knew that when He planned the Sabbath.”

Andrew could feel her gaze on him. While he wanted to smile and join in the plans, all he could think was to get the barn finished and the house up. Already a month nearly gone of the three Haakan asked them to wait. And once harvest started, he’d be expected to move on with the threshing machine after they finished their own fields and threshed those around the area. All those years he had pestered his pa to go along, and now all he wanted to do was to stay home and keep building.

Ingeborg refilled his coffee cup. With her hand on his shoulder, she whispered in his ear, “It will all get done and in time, God willing. Never fear.”

Andrew nodded. With all the delays that had gone on, they were already running later than he’d planned. Of course the house didn’t need to be done before the wedding, but he wanted to carry Ellie into their own house. While finished would be best, the roof on and the doors and windows in would be more of a possibility.

Even though the barn roof wasn’t finished, they hung the pulleys and strung the ropes to lift the loads of hay into Andrew’s barn. Setting the tines into the load, he stood back and watched the first load rise and swing into the maw of his barn. When it reached the back, he pulled the trip cord, and the hay dropped to the floor.

“We did it!” He slid to the ground with a thump, charged inside the barn, and climbed the slanted ladder to the huge mow. The one load of dropped hay looked puny against all the empty floor and space, but it was a start. Hay in his own barn. If only Ellie could be here to see this.

“Ready up there?” called Knute Baard.

“Sure enough. Let it come.” The pulleys at the outer side of the long metal track that ran under the beam of the roof squealed and the ropes moved, sending dust motes to dancing in the light slanting through the still open roof and the window spaces in the back wall. He watched to make sure all the ropes and pulleys were doing their jobs, a sigh of satisfaction greeting the load of hay that paused before swinging along the track to the rear of the barn. With a
whoosh
the heavy iron jaws released their load and the hay fell to the floor. Andrew took a fork and spread the hay so they could pack it well. The more they got in the barn, the less spoilage they’d have from the weather.

He sneezed in the dust and removed his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, then, using both hands, he set his hat back on his head and continued moving hay from the center drop into the corners. With three hay wagons running, the hay loads kept rising to the mow door, swinging in and dropping.

“Hey, Bjorklund, time for a break!”

“Coming.” Andrew jammed his fork into the hay and headed for the ladder. At the bottom of the ladder, he turned at the sound of a whisper. A feminine whisper. And a giggle.

“Ellie.”

Framed in the door, she laughed in delight. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That you did.” He strode to meet her. She launched herself into his arms, and he swung her around. “I’m getting you all dirty.”

She kissed him, then stepped back. “You do look like a walking hayseed stack.”

“Food’s out here,” Astrid called, “if you two can break away and join us.”

They’d set baskets up on the empty hay wagon—jugs of strawberry swizzle to drink, sandwiches, and cake.

“There’s even ice in the drink.” Astrid held up the pitcher, then poured red liquid into tall glasses. “Come on and help yourselves.”

The men gathered around and downed the drink as fast as the girls could pour. As the men found places to sit in the shade, Ellie took the pan of sandwiches around, then the chocolate cake, cut in three-inch squares, all of which disappeared in big bites.

“How did you get out here?” Andrew asked when she brought him more to eat.

“Astrid kidnapped me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Kidnapped you?”

“She brought in a load of cheese for shipping, came by for the mail, delivered cheese to the store, and the next thing I knew I was sitting up on the wagon seat and we were trotting out of town.” The two girls swapped laughing looks and continued serving, teasing the men and getting teased in return.

“Sorry, the food’s all gone.” Astrid swung a basket over her arm and handed one to Ellie.

Andrew watched the other men watching the girls, their teasing, the laughter. Was Toby being too forward? Did Heinrich watch Ellie too closely? Was Ellie flirting? For sure Astrid was.

Or was he imagining things? Trygve climbed back up on the empty wagon and picked up the reins. He hupped the team, and the driver of the next wagon pulled forward. Andrew headed back to the haymow, the thought of others flirting with his Ellie itching around his collar like the hayseeds that sought to burrow into sweatsoaked skin creases.

He drove his fork into the hay with far more force than necessary. The first time he got to see her for days, and now this.

“W
OULD YOU LIKE ME
to wrap that for you?” Ellie asked.

“No. I have my bag.”

Ellie smiled across the counter at her customer. “It’s so good to see you, Anji.” She leaned forward to smile at the little girl clutching her mother’s skirt. “Melissa, would you like a lemon drop?”

The little girl looked up to her mother, then nodded shyly.

“You don’t mind?” Ellie pulled the lid off the jar and, coming around the counter, bent over to hand the little one a lemon drop.

Melissa held the hard yellow candy between her thumb and first finger, then licked it, the tip of her tongue appearing and retreating as shyly as her smile.

“Put it in your mouth,” her mother said.

She did as told, the candy bulging one cheek, her eyelashes feathering on slender cheeks.

“Did you say thank-you?”

She shook her head, rolled the candy around in her mouth, and tried to speak around it. The words came out garbled, a drop of drool seeping over her lip. She sucked in and wiped her lips and chin with the back of her hand.

“Here.” Anji took a handkerchief from her pocket, spit on a corner of it, and wiped her daughter’s face.

Melissa tried dodging the hand on the chin and the dabbing cloth but finally gave up, her elfin face wrinkled in misery.

Ellie watched the byplay. It was hard to believe that Anji was the mother of two older girls, for the man she’d married had two daughters, and she now had two small children of her own—Melissa at three and a boy of two who’d stayed home with his father. Ivar Moen wrote articles about life in America for newspapers in Norway. Sometimes he wrote about events in Norway for Thorliff ’s paper and others here in America. Years ago Ellie had thought she and Anji would be related by being married to the two Bjorklund brothers. But Thorliff and Anji had gone their separate ways, and Ellie had never fully understood what happened.

“It is so good to have you back here in Blessing.” Anji reached over and patted Ellie’s hand. “And thank you for the treat for Melissa.” She picked up her bag where she’d stored her purchases. “Come, Melissa, we must get home to make supper.”

Ellie watched them go, then smiled and waved when the little one stopped, turned, and waved at her.

“She’s precious, isn’t she?” Penny came through the back curtain at her usual breakneck speed.

“She sure is. I hope you don’t mind that I gave her a lemon drop.”

“Not at all. I mainly keep them and the peppermints for just that purpose. I finished the last batch of jam. I see you got the mail all put away.”

Square slots lined the wall behind the counter with family names on the lower lip. Whoever was working in the store when the train came through with the mail sorted it out into the boxes after making sure the outgoing mail was put in the pouch and hooked over the arm for the train conductor to snag. As soon as the new building was finished for the bank and post office, this would all be moved over there.

“There are some more boxes out on the platform for the store.”

“Good. I’m due for bolts of corduroy and wool, as well as some heavier silks for winter wear. And we’re about out of sugar. Everyone canning nearly cleaned me out.” Penny tied a store apron about her waist. “I’ll get the dolly, and between the two of us, we can surely bring it all in.”

“Are you sure you should be lifting heavy things?” Ellie asked.

Penny snorted. “I’m with child, not an invalid.”

For the next few minutes they loaded brown fifty-pound sacks of sugar on the dolly, brought those into the storeroom, and then brought in the cardboard boxes.

“That crate will have to wait.”

“Do you know what’s in it?”

“Pails, nails, and other building supplies. Keeping ahead of Andrew’s need of nails has been interesting.” Penny thought a moment. “I think I ordered fencing staples too.”

“How do you keep track of everything?”

“I’ll teach you how to enter the bills of lading and such.” Penny cocked her head and, with a slight nod, continued. “You know, you could keep working for me, part time at least, after you and Andrew are married. You have a real aptitude for figures and for where things should go. That display you put up in the window? I’ve had more compliments on it.”

“Thank you. I like to make things look pretty. It’s interesting that when I suggest something else to buy, lots of times people do.”

“The mark of a good storekeeper. You keep an eye out for anything we are running low on.”

“What if you had the coffeepot on for when the mail is out—maybe some cookies or rolls? I think folks would stop and visit more, shop more too. They like to visit when they pick up their mail. Didn’t you used to do that?”

Penny nodded. “We did, but I stopped when the trains put on dining cars. But it might be a good idea to set up a table by the stove. Maybe even charge a penny or two for the coffee and rolls.”

“Ma?” Linnea stuck her head through the curtain that separated the home from the store.

“Yes?” Penny unwrapped the box with fabrics in it.

“Can I have a cookie?”

“May I?”

“Do you want one too?”

Penny rolled her eyes, and Ellie fought to keep from laughing.

“Make sure you share with Gustaf.”

“You want one?”

“No, thank you.”

The head disappeared, and they could hear the scraping of the stool being dragged over to the counter, then the clink of the lid removed from the jar, and a giggle.

“You can be sure they will each have more than one.”

“I’ll bake more.” Ellie folded the wrapping paper. “They did a good job picking the strawberries this morning.”

“I know. They love working alongside of you.” Penny took the pencil she kept stuck in the knot of hair she wore at the nape of her neck and marked the prices on the ends of the bolts of fabric. “We better reorganize the fabric section so we can put these out. Mrs. Valders was looking for wool serge the other day.”

“Is she still always way ahead of everyone else?”

“She likes people to think so.” Penny rolled her lips together. “Sorry, that wasn’t very nice.” They both chuckled. Penny opened another package. “Oh, good. The new sewing machine needles. We ran out and couldn’t get any more for a while.” She handed the packets to Ellie. “Here, count these and make sure the count matches that on the packing slip. I’ve had a bit of trouble with this company a couple of times.”

“They wouldn’t try to cheat you, would they?”

“No, I don’t think so, but mistakes happen. I’ve learned to be real careful.”

“Are you going to the picnic tomorrow?”

“I’m sure we are. I haven’t mentioned it to Hjelmer yet. I think he’s getting restless to get back to Bismarck. Afraid something might happen there without him.”

Ellie kept on counting. Was that a trace of resentment in Penny’s voice? “We match.”

“Good. We’ll go bag the sugar next.”

The bell over the door tinkled.

Penny looked up. “Why, Bestemor, how good to see you.”

White of hair but still pink of cheek, Bridget now walked with a cane, carrying a basket on her other arm. “God dag. I decided I needed some of that glorious sun, so I came myself. Did you get any sugar on the train? I need both white and brown and some ginger. I can’t make gingerbread without ginger.”

“We were just going to bag the sugar. How much do you need?”

“Can I have a full sack of each?”

“Not today, but I’ll order again on Monday. Will ten pounds tide you over?”

“It will have to. Raspberries are coming on fast. You better get a good stock in. Have you been out to see the Juneberries?”