Believing the Dream (12 page)

“Is it higher than our barn?”

“Ja, and with tall windows.” He didn’t add that sometimes he found himself looking out the windows at the oak and maple trees rather than listening to his professors. “I wrote you all this.”

“I know, but I like to hear you tell about it.”

The adoration in her eyes made him reach out and give a gentle tug on one of her braids. “I see you have Christmas ribbons in your hair. How lovely.”

“M-mange takk.” Her whisper tugged at his heart. How was it that now that he was home, he realized anew how much he missed his family. This day would be perfect if only he could talk to Anji and straighten out this mess they seemed to have made. Did she long for him as he did her, or had she banished him from her heart forever?

“Do you have friends there?”

Thorliff described the two other young men he usually ate dinner and sometimes studied with. “But one of them lives on the hill, and I live down in the town, so there is not so much time to be together.”

“And you are pleased with your job?” Ingeborg passed the plate of molasses cookies around.

“Ja, more than pleased. I brought you a copy of the articles I have written. The Christmas contest was my idea, and it went over very well. Mr. Rogers said we picked up some new subscriptions because of it, and a couple of advertisers said they would like to work with us if we do it again.”

“Will Mr. Rogers do that?”

“He said so. I’m going to suggest something similar for Easter.” He nodded his thanks when his mother pushed the cookie plate closer to him. “I write the obits. . . .” At their looks of confusion, he paused and added, “obituaries, unless it is someone really well known, then Mr. Rogers writes it. He likes writing editorials the best, so perhaps I will get a chance to write hard news one of these days.”

“There’s a man come to town from Norway. He’s staying at the boardinghouse, and he sends articles back to newspapers in Oslo.” Andrew brushed the shavings off the animal he was carving.

“Let me see.” Astrid reached for the figure. “A donkey.”

“Ja, for the manger scene. I tried a camel, but”—Andrew shook his head—“I haven’t seen a real camel, and I know horses, mules, and sheep real good.”

“Well.” Thorliff corrected his younger brother automatically, looking up in time to catch his mother’s smothered smile. He cocked an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

Astrid stroked the carved figure. “You carve as good as Onkel Olaf.”

Andrew reached for the donkey. “I need to take a bit more off the rump.”

Thorliff and his mother swapped glances that left them both smiling. Haakan rocked his chair back on the hind legs in time to earn a swat on the shoulder as his wife went by on her way to replenish the fire in the cookstove.

“I know. If I break the legs, I have to fix them.” He ducked away and brought his chair back upright. “Such bossy women in our family.” But his smile said he was teasing, as did hers.

Thorliff watched the byplay between the two of them. Would he and Anji ever be like that? Showing love in little ways, sharing good times in a snowbound house redolent with the fragrance of cooking ham and apples baking in cinnamon sauce? He refused to contemplate further and rose, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. “How about I refill that woodbox?”

“Ja, and we better get to refilling the water barrels in the barn. Even the little daylight out there is better than none.” Haakan copied his son’s stretch and took his pipe to the stove to knock the ash into the firebox. Taking out his pocketknife, he scraped the pipe bowl clean and knocked the edge of it against the stove opening again. He set his pipe in the rack on the small shelf and drawer on the wall behind the stove where he kept his tobacco.

“I thought you’d stay in all day,” Ingeborg said.

“Sorry. Let’s go then, boys.”

Once bundled up again, the three of them stepped out into the frigid blast. Haakan shook the rope free of the drifting snow and motioned Thorliff and Andrew to go ahead while he took the snow shovel and cleared the steps. When they got to the well house, Andrew began winching up buckets of water, dumping them into the buckets waiting to be attached to the yokes Thorliff took down from the wall. With a heavy bucket on each end, Thorliff adjusted the yoke over his shoulders and walked sideways out the door. Snow drifted in while the door was open. Haakan cleared the way for Thorliff as they leaned against the wind only to find the snow piled halfway up the front of the barn door. Thorliff set the pails on the icy ground while Haakan shoveled just enough snow for them to open the door and step into the sanctuary of warmth and peace. While Haakan shoveled more snow out of the way, Thorliff broke the film of ice in the barrels and poured in the buckets of water.

Back and forth they trekked until the barrels were full and the livestock all watered again. Every time he stepped back outside the first breath of icy air felt like a knife burning and stabbing deep in his chest.

“I think it’s letting up some,” Haakan said when he caught his breath again. He leaned against one of the timber posts, shaking his head. “This is some storm.”

Thorliff listened. Had the wind really died down? He crossed to the door and pulled it open. Loose snow followed it in, but one could actually tell it was slowing. The snow still swirled, but . . .”The wind is dropping, like you said.”

“Thank the good Lord for His mercy and favor.”

Now I can go see Anji?
The thought made Thorliff want to run to the house, grab his skis, freshly waxed and ready on their pegs, and schuss across the fields. He could be there in no time.

“And we filled the barrels in the worst of it.” Andrew joined his brother in the doorway.

“You’re letting all the heat out,” Haakan said.

Thorliff and Andrew rolled their eyes and stepped back to close the door. “Is there anything else here that needs doing?”

“Ja, plenty, but Mor must have dinner ready for us so we will eat first. Andrew, you gather the eggs, and Thorliff, you return the yokes and buckets to the well house. I’ll go check on the cheese house if I can find it.” They hadn’t pounded in poles and rope to the cheese house, knowing the milk could stay in the well house for a few days. The straw and manure they’d banked against the walls and on the roofs of the well house and cheese house, along with the sod walls, kept the milk and cheese from freezing. At least they hoped and prayed it would.

With the lighter sky, they could see the rope lying atop the snow six feet or more ahead of them. While the well house was a mound of white, the house itself loomed through the falling snow.

“It’s stopping.” Andrew burst through the door just ahead of his older brother. He set the bucket, eggs nested in hay in the bottom, by the cupboard and unwound his muffler.

“Mor, may we go skiing if it lifts?” Astrid turned from setting the last knife in place.

“Or take the sleigh out?” Andrew hung his coat on the peg by the door.

“We’ll see. Fill the woodbox now and we’ll eat. Where is Haakan?”

“He’s checking the cheese house. I’ll get the wood,” Thorliff said when Andrew started to put his coat on again.

Instead of taking what wood was stacked inside along the porch walls, he stepped back outside to the woodpile lining the east wall. The stack reached clear to the porch eaves. He brushed snow off the pile and loaded his arms. Three armloads and the kitchen box was full, so he hauled in some more for the much depleted stack on the porch. Haakan joined him, and together they made sure there was plenty of wood on the porch in case the blizzard returned.

“They use coal in Northfield?” Haakan brushed the chips off his jacket.

“Ja, black dirty stuff. But it burns more slowly, and no matter how many trees, there would never be enough to cut to take care of the towns. Some places have steam radiators to heat the rooms. Like at school.”

“Steam boilers, eh? Must have someone watching them all the time.” The two stamped the snow off their boots and used the broom to brush off their coats. Haakan returned to the outer door and watched the snow falling.

“Better not plan on going anywhere yet. This could change any minute. Remember how fast it hit before.” He slapped his leather gloves against his thigh. “I got a feeling it ain’t over yet.”

Thorliff glanced up at the skis and back to see his father watching him. Haakan shook his head ever so slightly and motioned his son to precede him into the warmth of the kitchen.

Does she even know I am home? Less than a mile away, and I might
as well be in Northfield
.

Just like earlier, they hung up their things, washed, and sat down to eat.

“At least we can hear ourselves think.” Ingeborg set the last bowl on the table and took her place. At the first word of the grace, they all joined in.

The day before Christmas Eve and no company, no last minute preparations, no laughter.

At least not in Thorliff’s heart.

CHAPTER TEN

“It’s cleared enough. I’m going to see Anji.”

Haakan shook his head, twin furrows deepening above his nose. “That’s not a good idea. Look to the north. This is only a breather.”

“On the skis I can be there in ten minutes. If it starts to snow again, I’ll come right home.” Thorliff pushed his sweater-clad arms into the sleeves of his heavy coat and wrapped a muffler around his throat. When he hazarded a glance toward his mother, he could read the fear in her eyes. “I promise I’ll watch the weather.”
I have to see Anji. Can’t
you understand? I have to!
He pulled his knit cap down over his ears. “See, the sun is even shining.”

The last glance he had was his parents standing shoulder to shoulder, his mother’s lips moving in what he knew to be silent prayer, Haakan shaking his head, and Astrid with her hands clapped over her ears and reading at the kitchen table.

Out on the porch he took the skis down from the pegs on which they were stacked and grabbed the poles hanging on pegs by their wrist straps.

Andrew joined him on the porch. “You sure you remember how?”

“Of course. You want to race me?”

“Nope. I’m not so hardheaded as to think I could outski a blizzard.”

“You’ll understand one day.” Thorliff sat down on the steps to buckle the straps across his boots. “Thanks for keeping them waxed.” He stood, checked his bindings and, with two strides, dug in the poles and started his journey across the drifts. Progressing cross-country with no fences to block him or roads to follow, he slitted his eyes against the dazzling brightness. The wind blew up crystals, and the cold knifed his chest, but neither mattered. He was on his way to see Anji at last.

He tried to pick up speed on the down sides of the drifts, but it was hard work going up drifts and even cutting through the deep snow where it hadn’t drifted. The shushing sound of the skis against snow was as crisp as a bite out of a fall apple. With the wind at his back he covered the mile in fair time.

The barking dog announced his arrival as he skied around the house to the back door. No sitting on the front porch like they had last summer. No walking out across the fields. No Agnes. That thought caught him in the chest as he bent to unstrap his bindings.

“Thorliff, what in the world—” Knute bounded down the steps and clapped Thorliff on the back, nearly sending him headfirst into the snowbank. “What are you doing out here? The blizzard is coming back.”

“Hello to you too.” Thorliff propped his skis against the back stoop. Besides, we have no guarantee the blizzard will return, and don’t remind me to look north.” He kicked the snow off his boots against the steps and, removing his mittens, stuck out a hand for shaking.

“Everyone, look who the wind blew in.” Knute, taller even than Thorliff and filling out his shirt like a man, ushered their guest into the kitchen.

Anji turned from stirring something on the stove. “Thorliff, you’re home.” She started to move toward him and stopped.

“Ja, on the train yesterday. Then the blizzard struck, or I would have been here earlier.”
Why is she looking at me like she’s not sure
who I am?
The desire to take her in his arms made his hands twitch. He studied her face. She looked tired, like she’d aged ten years in the three months that he’d been gone. Where had her warming smile and merry eyes gone, leaving behind trembling lips and eyes dull with fatigue, despair, what?

“Anji?” A quavering voice came from the bedroom off the kitchen.

“Excuse me. Pa needs something.” She left the room in such a hurry he wasn’t sure she just didn’t want to stay.

“So how’s school?” Knute sat at the table his father, Joseph, had made when they first came to homestead, making all they needed as had the other settlers.

“Sit, sit. Have coffee with us,” invited Swen, Knute’s older brother, although to look at them, both broad of shoulder and chest like the men they needed to be, it would be hard to tell which was which, they looked near enough alike to be twins.

Why can’t I go in there with Anji?
The thought crossed his mind and set his feet in motion. “I need to go greet your pa first.” He stopped and looked back. “Watch the weather for me, would you please? If it starts to snow again, I have to head home.”