Believing the Dream (5 page)

“The poor man hasn’t a chance with all of us ganging up on him.” Lars lay back on his pillow. “Hurry up and get under the covers before you freeze and I have to warm up your feet. As Matthew said, let today’s troubles be sufficient for today.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Northfield, Minnesota

“I can’t believe all these entries.”

Thorliff watched as Elizabeth sifted through the stack of envelopes. When he came up with the idea of the Christmas story contest, he’d thought perhaps twenty entries would be a goodly number. Instead, they received that many in a day sometimes. He had listed all the entries in a ledger that included the day they arrived and which category they fit under. Schoolteachers had assigned this as a composition to their students, both colleges were well represented, including faculty, and the people of the town and the outlying countryside were dredging up their Yuletide memories as well.

“Father says we’ve received twenty-five new subscriptions to the newspaper, thanks to the contest.” Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to Thorliff. “This was a pretty good idea.”

What? The prickly Miss Rogers giving him a compliment? Thorliff pulled the ledger out from under the counter. “Thank you.” But at times he wondered if he would have suggested the contest if he’d had any idea of the avalanche of entries they’d get. Or that the work of it was going to fall to him. Tomorrow was his turn to recite in Bible class, and while he was prepared with questions of his own, he had yet to formulate an answer to the teacher’s question.

“Do you need some help?”

He blinked and looked sideways at her. “Uh, yes. That would be very nice.”

“So what is your system?”

“I open the envelope, decide which category the story fits in, enter it in the ledger, and then place story and envelope in the proper box.” He motioned to the row of four boxes on the shelf under the counter.

“Okay, how about if I open them and hand them to you for entry?”

“Good.” Standing at the counter, they set to the task, with Elizabeth slitting all the envelopes with a letter opener and creating a pile with the envelopes on top of the pages.

“How is school going for you?”

Thorliff nearly swallowed his Adam’s apple. Why was she being so pleasant? “Good.”
Not really, but what should one say? Of course if I’d hear from Anji, perhaps I would feel better about school. Come on, dolt, think of something polite to say back. Good, wonderful, brilliant repartee
. “And for you?”

“Could be better. I wish St. Olaf had the science classes I want to take so I didn’t have to trek down the hill midmorning and then back up. Wasn’t so bad in the fall, but with all the snow we’ve had . . .” She waved a paper in front of him. “Wait until you read this one.”

Thorliff had heard her refer to medical school before at other times but had never asked her about it.

“How are things going?” Phillip Rogers shut the door before more snow blew in and stamped his feet to get the snow off his boots. “Brrr. Such miserable weather. I told Tom to bring the sleigh back in an hour, so I hope you will be done by then.”

“I will or else it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Phillip hung his coat and muffler on the coatrack and set his wool fedora on top. “How are the entries coming?”

“We need to begin reading them and sorting out the best. I asked the teachers at Carleton and St. Olaf if they would read the top three or four in each category.” Thorliff motioned to the four boxes.

“Good grief, that many? And the final deadline is when?”

“Tomorrow.”

Phillip massaged his chin for a moment. “I know what we’ll do. Tomorrow, if the two of you can take the time, we will take the boxes home, have supper, and spend the evening reading. I’m sure Annabelle will help us. Elizabeth, why don’t you ask Thornton if he would like to join us. We’ll make a party out of this.”

Elizabeth glanced at Thorliff out of the side of her eye. “What do you say?”

I say I have homework to do
. “I-I guess that would be all right. Perhaps the next day I can take the finalists up to Mr. Ingermanson, and maybe Thornton would take the ones to Mr. Jordan.” Though Thornton Wickersham attended Carleton, Thorliff had met him one night while skating at the pond with Elizabeth.

“And if they can get the results back to us over the weekend, we will publish the winners in next week’s edition. Perfect.”

“What if you printed the runners-up this week and the winners next week?”

Phillip paused in flipping through the entries. “Thorliff, that brain of yours must never be quiet.” He clapped Thorliff on the shoulder. “Good idea. We’ll prolong the suspense.”

“You better plan on printing extras of those two editions. People will buy more than one so they can send copies to all their relatives.” Elizabeth yawned and stretched, locking her hands behind her and pulling her shoulders back. “The accounts are caught up. There are some invoices you need to pay there in your basket, and Mrs. Jamison called. She wants to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. She insisted on talking with you.” Elizabeth strode to the shade-covered windows and peeked out. “Tom’s not here yet.”

“I can call for him if you are ready.”

“Please.” Elizabeth rubbed her upper arms. “I’m already tired of winter, and it’s just begun.”

Thorliff locked the door after they left and turned out the gaslights. Making his way down to the basement, he threw several large chunks of coal into the furnace, half closed the dampers, and headed back upstairs to his room. At least there was a heat grate near his desk so he could stay warm while studying. He reviewed his lesson on Matthew for Bible class, wondering if he dared ask the question he and Benjamin had been arguing about, and spent half an hour memorizing his verses. Since he’d memorized most of them in school in Blessing, this was review. He paced the floor, “ ‘Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.’ ” He dragged his hands over his scalp. “No, it’s the other way. Pure in heart comes first.”

He was still murmuring the “blesseds” when he fell asleep under the woolen patchwork quilt he’d brought from home.

“And you have a question, Mr. Bjorklund?”

“Yes, sir.” Thorliff swallowed hard and heard Benjamin shuffle his feet. “Sir, in the Old Testament we see Jehovah, the God of creation but also the God of judgment and wrath. How then can He be the same being as the God of love in the New Testament?”

“And this question has been bothering you?”

“Yes, sir. All through school.” Thorliff forced his body to remain still.

“I see. And you believe you are in a position to question the living God?”

“Well, sir, He says in Job to come and discuss with Him.”

“And in Job doesn’t He also ask where you were when the stars were put in the heavens?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I would suggest that you read all those passages again and see if you are in a better position than Job to question. Is that clear?”

Thorliff could feel the heat creeping up his neck.
Why didn’t I just
keep my mouth shut?
He sat back down, gritting his teeth but keeping from glaring at Professor Schwartzhause. After all, he’d invited them to ask questions. And this was the one class in which he’d not been ashamed of his exam scores.

“Tomorrow, Miss Jacobson, you will recite. Class dismissed.”

As all nine of them filed out of the classroom, Benjamin muttered for Thorliff ’s ears only, “Sorry for that. Should have asked some of the sophomores if this would work in this class or not.”

“I don’t believe God gets angry when we ask questions. He is bigger than that. Why, Abraham didn’t just question. He argued with Him. And got God to change His mind. So did some of the other prophets. Aren’t we supposed to learn from their examples?”

“Maybe by the time we get to the New Testament, we’ll get some answers.”

That night after supper at the Rogerses’, Thornton, Thorliff, and the family split up the contest boxes and quickly sorted out the entries that were not in contention with the finalists. Since the largest box was the children’s, Elizabeth and Thornton took that one.

“At least ours are shorter,” Elizabeth said, handing him a stack of papers.

“So what exactly are we judging them on?” Thornton asked, his head bent to reading, the firelight haloing his curly hair.

“Originality, quality, does the story have a good conclusion, is it really a story with a beginning, middle, and an end or just a picture of life.” Thorliff rattled off the requirements without looking up.

“Do you have a check sheet or something to score them on?”

“No.”

“This is all very subjective, then?”

“Oh, Thornton, just choose the top three or four from your pile, and I’ll do the same, then we’ll compare.” Elizabeth shook her head. “It isn’t like they are winning a college scholarship or a packet of money or something.”

“Now, dear, let’s not be . . .” Annabelle Rogers, dark hair smoothed back and bundled in a black crocheted snood, looked up from her chair facing the fire.

“Thank you, Mother, let’s just read.”

The crackling of the fire, the whistle of the wind amongst the eaves, and the whisper of papers being shuffled were the only sounds for a time, but other than the wind, they were friendly sounds. That and the warmth of the room after an excellent supper made Thorliff fight to keep his eyes open. He caught a yawn and looked up in time to see Elizabeth do the same, then heard Mr. Rogers give the slight start that meant he had about dozed off too.

“I’ll ring for coffee, or we’ll all nod off.” Annabelle pulled the cord in the corner.

Elizabeth put her papers down and went to stand in front of the fire. “I’ve done fifteen, and only one really stands out, so I’ve divided those I’ve already read into good, possible, and no chance.”

“I’d say that makes rather a good division.” Phillip was reading the stories from older folks. “I have one here that really jerks the heartstrings. If nothing comes better, that’s the winner in my group.”

“You have to choose three.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Phillip gave his daughter an exasperated look over his half glasses. “Such a stickler.”

While the coffee helped, everyone was yawning by the time they finished.