Dakota December and Dakota Destiny (12 page)

“Fine then, I’ll see you in the morning for church.”

Late that night Johanna finished stitching the lace trim to a bonnet for Angel to wear for Easter. She and Henry would make do with what they had. At the rate he was growing, what he had wouldn’t be worn for much longer. When they walked into the church in the morning, they had a hard time finding a place to sit. New bonnets crowned the women’s heads, leaving her feeling like a black sheep in a field of white ones. Dag finally saw them and beckoned them to the second pew. Walking with the sheriff up the center aisle, Johanna could feel eyes drilling into her back. Without turning, she could feel the whispers passed along behind gloved hands. If the residents of Soldahl hadn’t noticed the attention he paid to her before, they certainly did now.

She took her place next to Clara and sat Henry between her and Caleb.

“Christ is risen!” announced Reverend Moen.

“He is risen indeed!” responded the congregation. As the service continued with the reading of the women at the sepulcher, Johanna felt the tears gather as Mary pleaded with the man to tell her where they’d laid the body. She contemplated how much Christ had done for Mary and the others, and for her. How could she repay Him?

She knew the answer. By not living a lie. She quickly focused on the words of the Gospel and tried to ignore that silent voice for the rest of the service. It wasn’t fair. Was God asking this of her? To go back? To leave her new life? Surely He wouldn’t send her back.

After church those invited to the mansion for dinner boarded wagons and buggies, ducking under cover to keep the mist off them. While the sun had cracked the horizon, clouds had returned, but at least it was too warm to snow.

The long table held places for Caleb, Johanna, Reverend and Mrs. Moen, and Will Dunfey, Dag’s assistant. Another table was set for the Moen children and Henry.

“He’ll be fine with me,” Mary, the eldest daughter reassured Johanna. “Come on, Henry, we can have more fun in the kitchen.”

“No doubt,” Reverend Moen whispered.

“Will you say the grace, John?” Gudrun asked from her place at the foot of the table. Dag sat at the head with Clara on his right. When they bowed their heads in a moment of silence, Johanna heard the voice again. Surely if she told anyone, they would think her mad. She concentrated on the prayer and the voice faded.

Course followed course, with Mrs. Hanson carrying platters and bowls and encouraging everyone—“Eat up, there’s plenty more where this came from.”

“There certainly is, she’s been cooking and baking for three days.” Dag said when the cook left the room to bring in another steaming platter.

“Well, I for one don’t intend to let any of this go to waste.” Caleb passed the platter of sliced ham to Johanna. The conversation flowed along with the food. When Mrs. Hanson swung open the kitchen door, laughter could be heard from the children. John raised an eyebrow but settled back down at a head shake from Gudrun.

“They aren’t hurting anything and this old house needs the joy of children’s laughter.”

Johanna looked across the table at Clara, an eyebrow raised in question. A slight shake of the head and a quickly hidden smile said she hadn’t told the others yet. Sharing such a wonderful secret gave Johanna a warm glow around her heart. Never had she had friends like these. Would they still be her friends when she told them the whole story?

Later that evening when Caleb took her home, he stopped on the front porch.

“Would you like to come in?”

He shook his head. “I better not, but I have something important to ask you.”

She looked into his eyes, shaded by the dark and his hat’s wide brim. “Yes.”

He cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breath. “I . . . you . . . ah . . . I need your permission to court you and I certainly hope you feel the same.” The words came out in a rush.

Johanna felt her heart collapse at that moment.

“What do you mean you don’t want to see me anymore?”

“Just that.” Johanna twisted her hands in knots.

Caleb stared at her, his heart about to leap from his chest. Had he misread all the signs? Surely he wouldn’t feel this way if he hadn’t felt she did too. All these years, he’d never even escorted anyone to church, or the socials or . . .

He slammed his fist against the doorjamb. Johanna jumped as if she’d been shot.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He stared at her, trying to read what was behind her face and in her heart.

She refused to meet his eyes.

“Johanna, I can’t believe you are talking like this.” He wanted to take her hands, enfold her in his arms, protect her from whatever monster was hiding inside.

“I’m sorry, Caleb, that’s just the way it has to be.” Her voice sounded lost.

Caleb looked around the shop, as if hoping a message might jump at him from the walls or the piles of material. The night before he had not pressed her for an answer. He’d just hightailed it off her porch as if his tail were on fire. Now as he glanced over at the curtained doorway to her workroom he could see Henry peeking through the crack. What a fool he had been. He knew loud voices scared the daylights out of the child and more than once he’d seen Johanna hide within herself when a man raised his voice. And here he’d done both.

“Good-bye, Caleb.” She turned and, shoulders squared beneath her dark dress, pushed through the curtain.

He could hear her comforting Henry in a gentle voice.

Caleb crammed his hat back on his head and gave the door a satisfying slam. Halfway to the street, he turned right and headed west to the main part of town, his boots kicking up slush in his long strides. For his own benefit he recited in his head a litany of names that applied to one Caleb Stenesrude.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” someone called.

He heard but pounded on. He could feel curious eyes drilling into his back but his stride never shortened. By the time he’d reached the Erickson’s driveway, his chest pumped like a bellows and sweat slimed his hat band. He’d covered over three miles.

The sun beat down on his shoulders yet he could feel the ice creeping over his heart. “Dear God, why?” He looked toward the heavens. “Why?” This time a dog barked, the sound carrying over a still-snowbound prairie.

“I prayed over this, thought I was doing what You wanted.” He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and unbuttoned his sheepskin jacket. Between the sun and the hard walk he no longer needed that. He shook his head and snorted. “No fool like an old fool.” He turned around and started back. The way he had stormed around, probably half the town was talking about him now.

When he reached the wrought-iron fence surrounding the Norgaard mansion—no one called it the Weinlander house even though all knew Dag owned it now—he paused. Perhaps Gudrun knew what was keeping Johanna from him. For certain she’d heard about his rampage through the streets of Soldahl.

Here, like some lovesick bull, he’d been thinking this might be one of the happiest days of his life. Women! He punched the doorbell with unnecessary force.

“Why, Caleb, what a nice surprise, we haven’t seen so much of you lately.” Clara smiled up at him, the twinkle in her eye going along with her teasing. “Come on in.” She stepped back and beckoned him inside.

Caleb removed his Stetson and held it in front of him with both hands. Now that he was actually here, he wanted to be anywhere else. “Is Gudrun in?”

“Of course, she’s in her office.” Her look this time reminded him of his mother. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “You might want to join us. She might have let you in on her secret.”

Clara turned her head a bit. “She?” She studied Caleb briefly. “I’ll go ask Mrs. Hanson to bring in some coffee. You go right on.” She turned toward the kitchen. “You might want to tap on the door before you go in.”

Caleb watched her dart down the hall.
How in the world did I let myself in for this?
He added a few more names to those he’d already called himself and made his way through the parlor and down the hall to the office. He looked down to realize he still wore his sheepskin jacket and hadn’t even hung his hat on the hall tree. Not a good sign, son.
Why don’t you just hightail it home and go chop wood or something?

But instead, he tapped on the carved walnut door.

“Come in.”

Once before he’d felt just this way—the time he was summoned to the principal’s office at the high school.

“Caleb, what a nice surprise.” Gudrun stuck her pen back in the ink stand. “Sit down, sit down.” She stood and came around the desk. “Let’s sit in front of the fire, if you would be so kind as to stoke it up.” All the while she spoke, she watched his face.

Once he’d put another log on, he took the wingback chair opposite hers.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong”

“Can’t one friend call on another without anything being wrong?” He settled his hat on his knee and studied the fire now beginning to blaze again. He sighed and slumped against the leather upholstered back.

When he finally looked up at Gudrun, her gaze met his with compassion.

“Mrs. Hanson will bring the coffee in a few minutes.” Clara said after tapping at the door and entering.

Gudrun looked at Caleb with a question.

“It’s all right. I asked Clara to join us.” He traced the rim of the crown of his hat with one finger. “You see . . . I . . . ah . . . no, this isn’t working.” He clapped his hands on the chair arms and started to rise.

“Sit, Caleb.”

Steel with a velvet covering. He now knew what that meant. He sat.

Clara pulled up a chair and took her place.

He caught a look that passed between them, a look of question and concern all wrapped up together. He sucked in a deep breath and let the words out in a whoosh. “Do you know any reason why Johanna would not want me to court her?”

“Oh, no, I was afraid of that.”

He stared at the older woman, willing her to go on.

She shook her head and looked at Clara who did the same. “She’s never confided in me,” Gudrun began, “but I know there is something in her past that she keeps carefully hidden. I have an idea what it is but that is all.” She stared into the fire. “We’ve all noticed how she mentions nothing about her life before you found her at your gate. That is strange in itself. But I’ve also seen her flinch or duck away when a man raises his voice or moves too quickly.”

“I know, I’ve seen that too. You think she’s running from a wife-beating husband? What with Henry being so scared and all?”

“I can’t see her committing some crime, not Johanna. She’s as honest as the day is long.” Clara tapped her fingers together.

“But she was definitely on the run. I was surprised when she agreed to buy the dress shop.” Gudrun looked up at the tap on the door. “Come in.”

After Mrs. Hanson fussed with the coffee tray and left, she continued. “What happened today?”

“I . . . well, you know I’ve not been hiding my interest in her. Why those two tykes of hers are dear to me as my own. That Angel could make the devil himself smile.”

“Let alone our dear sheriff.” Clara handed the coffee cups around.

“Yeah, well, be that as it may, today I asked her if I could come courting. I thought I ought to make sure she knew my intentions were honorable.”

“Of course.” Gudrun sipped her coffee.

“She turned me down flat, said she didn’t think she should see me anymore. Can you beat that?” He could feel his heart start thumping against his ribs again at the memory. “So I thought to ask you if you knew any reason for such a thing.”

“I’m glad you did. I think it’s time we got to the bottom of this—for both your sakes. Living a lie will eat away at one ‘til there’s nothing left.”

“There’s something going on for sure,” Clara added. “I’ve seen her look at you when you weren’t paying attention. That wasn’t the look of someone who didn’t care, even Dag noticed.”

Caleb leaned back in his chair. So he wasn’t nuts, he hadn’t been misreading the woman.

Gudrun set her cup and saucer down with a click. “So the question is, what can we do?”

Caleb nearly smiled at the mention of “we.” That was one thing about Gudrun, she didn’t let any grass grow under her feet. When something needed doing, no matter how hard or distasteful, she got right to it. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Caleb stood and took up the poker, moving the logs around whether they needed it or not. He set the brass screen back in place to protect the fading oriental rug and returned to his seat, only to get back up and lean against the mantel.

He crossed to the table where the tray sat and poured himself another cup of coffee. He crossed to the table again and picked a cookie off the plate. About ready to reach for the poker again, he ordered himself back to the chair.

“That’s better. You’re acting like a cat on a hot stove.” Gudrun’s smile took any sting out of her words. She nodded. “Guess it’s about time I go over and order a new summer dress from Johanna. That ought to give us a splendid opportunity to talk, don’t you think?” She looked up at Clara who nodded and smiled widely.

“And if need be, I’ll order one too. In fact, she knows I need several new things.”

“I’ll ask Dag to send Will over to drive the carriage tomorrow, or the sleigh, whichever. I haven’t been shopping in quite some time. What do you think, Clara, do I need a new hat too?”

“I think Mrs. Johanna Carlson doesn’t stand a chance.”

Johanna rubbed her forehead with weary fingers.
Why do I feel so empty? I did the right thing, I know I did.
She bent over her sewing machine, blinking to clear her eyes. Was she coming down with a cold? She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. After finishing the final seam in the skirt she was constructing, she tied off the threads and folded the waistless garment. Rubbing her aching back with one hand, she got to her feet and shoved the chair closer to the treadle machine. She should have gone to bed far earlier but the orders had stacked up and she needed the money. The first payment on her house was due soon.

She shut off the lamps and climbed the stairs to her bedroom, a kerosene lamp in hand. She checked on Henry, sound asleep with Sam lying right beside him. He wagged his tail when she patted his head.

Next, she held the light over Angel’s cradle, also soundly sleeping, her little rear in the air. Johanna adjusted the quilt covering the baby and tiptoed over to her own bed. Each action seemed to take all the strength she had, as if she were slogging through deep snowdrifts. She wrapped her arms around her elbows and hugged herself, rocking back and forth to stem the sobs that threatened to tear her apart. If she weren’t careful, she’d wake the baby. She shed her clothes and crawled under the covers, burying her face and her sobs in the pillow.

Waking in the morning to a baby’s screaming cries did nothing for her peace of mind. “Shush, little one, your ma’s right here.” She changed the soaking baby and took her into bed with her for her breakfast.

That afternoon when the bell tinkled for the third or fourth time, she was losing track, she entered the shop to see Clara fingering a bolt of gingham. “Clara, how good to see you.” Johanna extended her hands.

“And you.” Clara took them and smiled, her gaze searching. “Gudrun wanted to come today too, but she ended up feeling a mite poorly so I came alone. Have you thought anything about some gowns for me for the months ahead?”

Johanna shook her head. “I haven’t had to time to think about what to cook for dinner. While I can’t afford the help, I have thought of hiring that young woman that worked for Miss Sharon.” She swung their still joined hands. “Have you told Dag yet?”

Clara nodded, her eyes sparkling. “He’s choosing boy names, of course. And Gudrun is ready to redecorate the nursery. Says we are finally fulfilling her heart’s desire, to see children playing again in that big house.”

“Here, do you have time for a cup of tea?” Johanna turned toward the workroom. “Let me put away a couple of things first. You go on in and sit down.” She spun around and hurried over to the front door. After turning the lock, she pulled down a shade that said “Closed.”

Clara stood over the cradle in the corner, her hands clasped to her bosom, a smile curving her mouth. “She is so beautiful.” Her whisper greeted Johanna at the doorway. “Angel, that is indeed who you are.” She looked up when Johanna brought the teakettle forward on the stove. “I am not surprised a bit that Caleb is so taken with her. Perhaps she reminds him of his own baby girl.”

Johanna felt herself stiffen, and when she tried to swallow, her throat was dry. “D— do you take milk with your tea?”

“No, thank you, a bit of honey if you have it, otherwise sugar.” Clara crossed the room and sank into the rocking chair. “You have made such a cozy home already.” She looked at the blocks Henry had left by the big box the wagon came in. “I think children’s things give that feeling, don’t you?”

Have you seen Caleb?
Johanna’s mind screamed so loudly she was afraid her visitor would cover her ears.
Did Caleb send you here?
She squashed that thought with a
Don’t be silly,
and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves. Reminding herself that she had done what was best, she poured the liquid into the cups and handed one to her guest. “Why don’t we sit at the table?” Her cup rattled against the saucer.

“Johanna, are you all right?” Clara studied her over the rim of her cup. “You’re working too hard, aren’t you?”

“No, no, I’m fine, just busy, that’s all. Running a shop like this takes some getting used to, you know. I think I got lazy living in the lap of luxury like I did at your house.”

Clara harrumphed and shook her head. “Lazy does not apply to you, my friend. But you look, I don’t know, troubled, sad.”

Angel whimpered in her cradle.
Thank You, Lord, for small favors.
Johanna pushed back her chair. “I need to change and feed her. We’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, settled in the rocker, Johanna kept the conversation centered on general matters, refusing to allow the personal to surface again. That was one of the bad things about good friends. They had the ability to see right through each other. And Clara was exceedingly perceptive.

Later, after playing with the baby, Clara sighed. “I really must go. We’ll talk about those dresses as the time gets closer. I miss having you at the house, and Henry and Angel. It’s awfully quiet again. I even miss Sam’s claws ticking on the floors, silly, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think it silly at all. I’m just so grateful you call me friend.”

Clara donned her coat and hat by the front door. “Just so you know that this friend is available should you ever need anything, especially someone to talk to.”

“I know that, and thank you.” Johanna heard Henry and the dog coming down the stairs. She leaned her head against the glass in the door, watching Clara reach the street, turn, and wave. That was one more thing. If Caleb didn’t visit anymore, she would have to get his dog back to him some way. He was probably so mad at her, he’d whistle for Sam when he was outside. Surely Henry was feeling safe enough now, or was he?

The thought of the days and weeks ahead with no Caleb to come calling brought a heaviness to her chest. Why couldn’t they still be friends?

On Sunday she walked to church with her children. She looked around the congregation from the rear but nowhere did she see his broad shoulders and fine head. When they left, he still had not come. Was he sick? The thought grabbed at her insides.

She forced a smile and answered the greetings of those around her. When Angel began to fuss, she excused herself and headed for home.
You will not cry!
she berated herself again and again.
You chose this path so now you must walk it—alone.

A carriage pulled up beside her. “I know it’s too late to offer you a ride, but we would love you to come for dinner.” Dag’s voice drew her around.

“Thanks, but not today. I have so much to do and Angel is fussing. She might be coming down with something so I think I better keep her home.” Angel was fussing but only because she was hungry. Was this little white lie a terrible thing? Surely she couldn’t bear it if Caleb were there. He usually came for Sunday dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Clara added. “I know Gudrun would love to see you and the children. She’s feeling rather housebound.”

Guilt could drive arrows deeper than any bow. “Is she very sick?”
Go, no, don’t go
wrestled in her mind.

“She doesn’t dare be, the way Mrs. Hanson is carrying on.” Clara shook her head, setting the ribbons on her bonnet to bobbing. “Maybe next time, all right?”

Johanna nodded and waved as they drove off. She quickly turned into her gate, letting it slam behind her. She felt like slamming all kinds of things, doors, kettles. Her life here would be so perfect if it weren’t for the sheriff—and her hungry heart.

By the end of the week, her skirt sagged at her middle. Johanna knew she better force herself to eat, but how did one turn off the thoughts and nightmares that followed the few times she had fallen asleep?

The days lapsed into weeks with Johanna sewing, fitting, and acting as if all were right. Inside she alternated between freezing and flaming.

One typical morning Henry woke her to say that Angel was crying. She leaped out of bed, remorse lending strength to her feet. If she couldn’t even take care of her baby, what was going to happen to her? She had spent a fitful night and the nightmare she’d just released returned with a vengeance as she nursed a now smiling Angel. Raymond, always Raymond, pursuing her, this time with a whip. She could hear him rattling the door of her mind, no matter how hard he slammed it.

She finally made breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, and sat down at her sewing machine. The dress for Clara had to be done today, she’d been at it far too long. Scolding herself for the miserable way she was acting had become a habit. When the bell tinkled to announce a customer, she pushed herself to her feet, squared her shoulders, and plastered a smile on her face.

The smile ran into hiding as soon as she saw the man standing in the middle of the shop. Summoning up every bit of strength she possessed, she forced herself to speak. “Good morning, Sheriff Stenesrude, how can I help you this morning?”

He studied her face a moment before clearing his throat.

Henry, with Sam on his heels, darted through the curtained door and threw himself at Caleb’s knees. The dog yipped and wagged, turning himself inside-out with joy.

Johanna flinched from another arrow of guilt. Sam was Caleb’s dog, not theirs.

Caleb, blinking extra-fast, picked Henry up so he could look him right in the eye. “How’ve you been, son, taking good care of your ma?” Henry nodded so hard his hair flopped in the breeze. “I see Sam is in fine fettle, you been taking good care of him for me, huh?” Again Henry nodded. Caleb leaned over and sat the boy down, giving the dog a good ear rubbing at the same time. “Why don’t you two go play in the other room, I need to talk with your ma.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped and his smile melted away but he did as told, only looking over his shoulder once before trudging out. He had buried his hand in Sam’s ruff so the dog paced beside him.

Caleb turned his hat brim round and round in front of him. “I—hear you’ve been real busy.” He cleared his throat again.

“Ja, that I have.” She memorized his face for the lonely nights.

“I—I come for my dog. I thought by this time Henry would be okay without him.” His words came out in a rush as if he needed to get them over with.

Johanna nodded. ‘I’ve been telling him this day would come.”

“I hate to do this to him but . . .” His words trailed off. He stared into her eyes, as if probing her soul.

Tell him he can come calling again. No, don’t.
The war exploded in her head.

“I’ll get him for you.” She tore her eyes from his and spun around. Ducking through the curtain, she wished she could do anything but this. She knelt in front of Henry, hands on his shoulders. “Son, you have to be very brave now, like we been talking about. Sheriff Stenesrude needs Sam back.”

A tear welled out of his blue eyes and sparkled on his cheek before being chased down by another.

Johanna fought the moisture gathering at the back of her throat and eyes. “You are such a good, big boy. I promise you, as soon as we hear of someone who has pups, we’ll get one for you. That’ll be your own dog.”

Henry buried his face in the dog’s fur, his shoulders shaking.

Sam turned and licked the tears off Henry’s face, whining his sympathy.

“Come, Henry.” She gave him her hand and together they walked into the shop, Sam padding beside the boy. ‘Thank you for loaning us your dog, Sheriff. We’re much obliged.”

“Johanna, I . . .”

“Good-bye, Sheriff.” She turned and walked with Henry back to the kitchen where she sat in the rocker and lifted him into her lap. Finally the doorbell signaled his departure. Henry’s sobs finally turned to sniffles but he remained leaning against her chest. The kitchen seemed empty.

When the bell tinkled again, she wished she had pulled down the closed sign. With a sigh, she deposited Henry on the floor and returned to the shop. “Gudrun, what a nice surprise.”

“Hello, my dear. I’m sorry I’ve been so long without visiting you.” She leaned on her knob-headed cane. “What has happened to you? You look terrible.”

Johanna smoothed back her hair and sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“I have plenty of time to listen.”

Johanna shook her head. “Not today. I don’t think I’m up to it right now.” She bit her lip at the compassion radiating from her friend. She felt guilty again. After all, she should have called on her when she knew the older woman wasn’t feeling well. What kind of a friend was she?

Gudrun nodded. “Tomorrow then, you will come for dinner after church and when the children are down for their naps, we will get to the bottom of all this.”

“I can’t, I . . .”

“Caleb will not be invited.”

“He—he came for Sam today.”

“I’m so sorry.” Gudrun squared her shoulders. “I will see you tomorrow then.”

“Ja, we will come.” When the old woman turned to leave, Johanna asked, “Did you need something today?”

Gudrun paused. “Yes, but we will deal with this other first. ‘Til tomorrow then.”

Johanna followed her to make sure there was no problem with the steps but Mrs. Norgaard sailed out the yard and to her waiting carriage, ignoring the mud caused by the melting snow. Johanna lifted her face to the sun’s warmth. It had seemed clouds had covered the sun for the last month. Or was it only cloudy over her?

Each night and nap, Henry cried himself to sleep. Johanna stared down at him, shaking her head. Surely someone must have some puppies soon. She’d have to remember to ask Dag if he knew of any.

Sunday morning came rushing on like a runaway train. Every other minute she swore she would not go, not to church, not to Clara’s, not outside her front door. In the saner minutes, she dressed the children for church and herself too.

Ingeborg Moen met them at the door. “Oh, Johanna, I am so glad to see you. I’ve missed you but I couldn’t even come calling because we’ve had the measles at our house and I didn’t want to bring it to your children.” She cooed at Angel and patted Henry on the head.

“Are they all right now?”

“Still some spots but back to running around so on the mend. Mary stayed home with them so I could come to church. I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She turned as the organ began to play. “Why don’t you come sit with me, that all right with you, Henry?” At his nod, she added. “So there, that’s all settled.”