Dakota December and Dakota Destiny (15 page)

As she dashed away the one tear that meandered down her cheek, she pulled a pigweed out of the dirt oblong and flung it over the fence.

On the way back to the hotel they stopped by the livery and paid the fee and a boy hopped on the back of the buggy so he could return it to the barn. Supper and an early bed were all Johanna wanted.

Her first thought in the morning shocked her wide awake.
I’m free. I no longer have to be afraid.
Then guilt dropped a load on her shoulders.
I should be sad, grieving for my husband. Lord, what is wrong with me?
She lay in bed and thought of her new life in Soldahl. Surely God had led her there as He protected her from death in the blizzard. Surely He held her in His hand.
God is my strength and salvation.
She repeated it for good measure.
Please, Father, give me wisdom for this day. Thank You for Your many blessings.

She glanced at the crib where Angel slept, knees tucked under her, bottom in the air. Such a blessing. Then she began counting all her blessings, trying hard not to wiggle so the creaking bed would waken her sleeping friend. Gudrun, how many lives had she blessed with her mind and her wealth? Some time later, when she had finally run out of things to be thankful for, she could no longer remain in bed.

Dressing behind the screen in the corner, she took her soap and towel to the bathroom at the end of the hall. By the time she returned, Angel was yawning and stretching and Gudrun dressing behind the screen.

“Would you like me to go to the bank with you or stay here and watch Angel?” Gudrun asked over the rim of her coffee cup. They were seated at a table for four in the dining room and Angel, in a highchair chased bits of toast around the wooden tray. Johanna had fed the baby a few bites of oatmeal and egg.

“You know much more about contracts than I do. Why don’t you go to the bank and I’ll stay with Angel?” Johanna smiled at the slow shaking of Gudrun’s head. “No? Then how about if we go together and I’ll play with Angel while you read the papers over for me?”

“How much are you going to ask for the farm?”

“I’m going to see how much they offer, raise it some, and sign the papers. We should be able to make the afternoon train.”

And so they did. A couple of times during the ride west, Johanna took the check out of her bag to make sure it was real. She could pay off her shop and have money left to put in the bank. Never had she felt so wealthy. Never had the cost been greater.

“And to think I almost didn’t come.”

“I know. But remember, we prayed for God’s guidance. He never wants us to live in fear and this is how He took care of yours. Now we must pray for Henry, to put this all behind him.”

“He still has nightmares but not nearly so often. They came back for a while after Caleb took Sam home but now he seems at peace again. Poor little fellow.”

When the train pulled into Soldahl, Caleb met her on the platform. “What are you—how did you know—?” Her words vanished at the look on his face.

“I’ve met every train so I wouldn’t miss you.” He helped Gudrun down first. “How was your trip?” He took their bags and put them off to the side.

“I will tell you about it later.” Johanna’s smile brought forth one from him.

“Come on, ladies, I will drive you home.”

“Johanna, will you marry me?” His words echoed through the darkness.

Crickets sang over by the fence. A mosquito whined in her ear. Johanna stared up at the moon glowing like a huge silver platter. In the shade of the oak tree, she couldn’t really see his face, just a form lighter than the surrounding shadows.

“Yes, but . . .”

“But what?” He covered her hands with his on the swing.

“But it can’t be until after the time of grieving.” She forced the words past the lump in her throat.

“Grieving! He wasn’t worth grieving for! Besides, Raymond died nearly six months ago. That’s long enough.” Johanna had told him the entire story as she promised the first night they were back.

“But Caleb, what will people say?”

“Who cares? Only the Moens along with those at Dag’s house know what happened anyway, and they won’t tell.” He jiggled the swing, making her bounce. “I think we’ve waited long enough.”

His rich voice sent shivers racing up and down her spine. She slapped at the pesky mosquito. “All right, when?” She couldn’t believe those words came from her.

“Next Saturday.”

“That’s only four days away.” She squeaked on the last words. “No, a week from this Saturday.”

“That’s too soon, I think maybe June.”

“A week from Saturday.” He picked her up from the swing seat and held her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You carried me once before.”

“Lot easier this time.” He set her down on the porch, down in the corner where the light from the window didn’t reach. When their lips finally met, Johanna felt she’d come home.

“I won’t have time to make a new dress,” she said sometime later.

“I’m marrying you, not a dress. You’ll look lovely no matter what you wear.”

She rested her head against his chest. “You . . .” But he took her breath away with another kiss.

Saturday dawned bright and fair but by nine showers had arrived. Johanna shivered in the coolness. Rain on a wedding day, not a good thing. As if reading her thoughts, by noon the sun sparkled on drops left on leaves and grass blades.

“Come, your carriage awaits.” Dag met her at the door and pointed to Clara and Gudrun with Mrs. Hanson, sitting in the buggy. Dag and Clara had agreed to stand up with the bridal couple.

Johanna didn’t have much to say. Her heart was beating so fast she half expected it to leap out of her chest and fly away. Henry climbed up on Clara’s lap, Mrs. Hanson took the baby, and Johanna wished she were walking or running away.

“Don’t worry, my dear, all brides—and grooms—get the jitters on their wedding day. You’ll be fine.” Gudrun leaned forward and patted Johanna’s knee.

“And we got food enough to feed the whole town back at the house. I baked the wedding cake myself.” Mrs. Hanson tickled Angel and made her chortle.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, we should.” Clara handed Henry up to sit by Dag. “You just enjoy the day.”

Oh yes, that’s what she’d do, enjoy the day, if she didn’t embarrass everybody, herself most of all. She laid a hand on her stomach to calm it. Whatever possessed her to agree to such a fast wedding?

At precisely one o’clock the organist looked toward the door and the old pipe organ broke into song. Clara walked down the aisle first, tulips from their garden in her arms. The excited congregation craned to look as Johanna stepped through the door. Were those tears she saw sparkling in Caleb’s eyes? Tears to match those that threatened to spill over her own cheeks?

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and this holy gathering to bring these two people together in holy matrimony.” Reverend Moen spoke the age-old words with joy and reverence. Both Caleb and Johanna answered in voices strong and sure, their eyes pledging their troth along with their voices.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. What God hast put together, let no man rend asunder.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “You may kiss the bride.”

And Caleb did. As he and Johanna turned to make their way back up the aisle, Henry shot out of the pew and made a beeline for Caleb’s pant leg. With Johanna’s arm still in his, the man leaned down and picked up the boy, settling him into the crook of the other arm.

Johanna smiled up at him adoringly.

The little boy put his hands on either side of Caleb’s face and turned it to face him. “My pa,” he said, loud enough for most to hear. “My pa.”

“Mary’s home! Mary’s home!” Daniel, the youngest of the Moen brood, left off swinging on the gate to the picket fence and leaped up the porch steps to the door. “Mother, did you hear me?”

“Only me and half the town. Must you yell so?” Ingeborg Moen made her way down the steep stairs and bustled over to the door. “Did you see her or was it the little bird that told you?”

“I saw—” A gloved hand clamped gently over his mouth.

“Hello, Mother.” Mary stood in the doorway. At seventeen, she had shed the little girl and donned the young woman. Golden hair fell in curls down her back, held back from her oval face with a whalebone clasp, high on the back of her head. Eyes the blue of a Dakota summer sky still shone with the direct look that made students in her Sunday school classes squirm, much as her younger siblings had for years.

There was something about Mary that not only commanded attention but also made one look again. Was it the straightness of her carriage fostered by years of Mrs. Norgaard insisting the girls of Soldahl walk and stand tall no matter what their height? Or the firmness of her chin that bespoke of a will of her own? Or was it the twinkle that hid under long, dark lashes and flirted with the dimple in her right cheek whenever she was trying not to laugh—which was often?

Ingeborg gathered her eldest chick in her arms and hugged her as if they’d been apart for years instead of months. “Oh, my dear, I have missed you so. The house, nay, even the town, is not the same without my Mary.” She set the young woman a bit away and studied the girl’s eyes. “How have you been, really? Has the school been hard for you? And the train trip home—all went well?”

“Mother, how can I answer so many questions at once? This has been a most marvelous year, and when I finish this time next spring, I will be able to teach school anywhere in North Dakota. Isn’t that the most, the most—” Mary threw herself back in her mother’s arms. “Oh, much as I love school, I have missed you all sorely.”

Daniel thumped her valise on the waxed wooden floor. “Did you bring anything for all of us?”

“Of course I did, and how come you’re not in school?” She hugged her ten-year-old brother. “You’re not sick, are you? You don’t look it.”

He pulled away, already at the age of being embarrassed by being hugged in public. “Naw, not much anyway.”

Mary looked a question at her mother. This, the baby in the family, had suffered many ailments in his short life. He seemed to catch anything that visited the school or the neighboring children, and with him it always lasted longer and took more of a toll.

“He’ll be going back tomorrow.” A shadow passed over Ingeborg’s placid features. She lived by the creed that God loved His children and would always protect them. She’d taught that belief to her children all their lives, both she and the Reverend John, her husband. But sometimes in the dead of night when this one of her brood was near death’s door, her faith had been tried—and wavered. But such doubts never lingered longer than the rise of the new day, for she believed implicitly in the mansions Jesus had gone to prepare.

Mary sniffed once and then again. “You baked apple pies.”

“The last of the barrel. I’d been saving them for you, hoping they would last.”

“I helped peel.”

Mary stroked Daniel’s pale cheek. “And I bet you are the best apple peeler in Soldahl. Now, let me put my things away and we will sample some of Mother’s crust cookies, or did you eat them all?”

He shook his head so hard, the white blond hair swung across his forehead. “I didn’t.”

Mary headed for the stairs. “And you, my dear Mor, will fill me in on all the happenings of town and country since your last letter.”

“Will came by yesterday.” Daniel struggled up the steps with the heavy valise.

“He did, eh?” Mary looked up to catch a nod from her mother. A trill of pleasure rippled up Mary’s back.
Will, soon I will see Will again. And we will have an entire summer to find out how deep our friendship really goes.

She turned back to her little brother. “Here, let’s do that together. That bag is so burdened with books, no wonder we can’t lift it.” Mary settled her hand next to Daniel’s on the leather grip, and together they lugged it up the steep stairs—Mary laughing and teasing her little brother all the way. They set the case down, and with a sigh of happiness, Mary looked around the room she’d known all her life.

The first nine-patch quilt she’d made with her mother covered the bed, and the rag rug on the floor had warmed her feet since she was ten. Stiffly starched white Priscilla curtains crossed over the south-facing windows, and an oak commode held the same rose-trimmed pitcher and bowl given her by her bestamor, her mother’s mother. The ceiling still slanted the same, its rose wallpaper now fading in places.

Daniel stood silently, intuitive as ever of his eldest sister’s feelings. When she finished looking around, he grinned up at her. “Didja see anything new?”

Mary looked again. The kerosene lamp still sat on the corner of her dresser. As soon as she unpacked, the brush and hand mirror would go back in place. She looked down at her brother. “What’s up, Danny boy?”

He looked at the ceiling directly above her head. She followed his gaze and her mouth fell open. “Electric lights. Far put in the electricity.”

“The church board voted.”

Since they lived in the parsonage, all improvements were at the whim and financial possibilities of the Soldahl Lutheran Church. They’d all grown up under that edict.

Mary reached up and pushed the button on the bare bulb hanging from a cord. Light flooded the room. “Now I can read in bed at night.” She spun in place, arms outstretched as if to embrace the entire world, or at least her home and family. She swooped Daniel up and hugged him tight.
He is so thin,
she thought.
Has he been worse than mother told me?
He hugged her back and whispered in her ear. “I’ve missed you so.”

“And me you, Bug. Let’s go down and have some of that apple pie, if Mor will cut it before dinner.” His childhood nickname slipped out; she hadn’t called him that in years, but today, today was a time for remembering. Who knew what a magical day like today would bring?

Mary and Daniel, hand in hand, were halfway down the stairs when the front door opened again and the Reverend John Moen entered, removing his well-used black fedora as he came. Mary put her finger to her lips, and she and Daniel froze in place.

“So, Mother, what’s the news? Ummmm, something surely smells good.”

As he walked toward the kitchen, Mary and Daniel tiptoed down the stairs.

“Apple pie? For me?”

“Get your fingers out of the crust.” The laughter in Ingeborg’s voice could be heard by the two creeping nearer.

Mary silently mouthed,
one, two, three,
and she and Daniel burst around the corner. “Surprise!”

“Land sakes alive, look who’s here!” John grabbed his chest in mock shock. “Mary, come home at last.” He spread his arms and Mary stepped into them, forcing herself to regain some sort of decorum. “Lord love you, girl, but I was beginning to think you were never coming home.” He hugged her close and rested his cheek on smooth golden hair. “When did you go and get so grown up?”

Mary blinked against the tears burning the backs of her eyes.

Her father had aged in the months she’d been gone. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, and the few strands of gray at his temples had multiplied. She stepped back, the better to see his dear face. “I’m never too grown up to come home to my family. Even though I’ve been so busy I hardly have time to turn around, I’ve missed you all so much.”

“Come now, we can visit as we eat. Daniel, John, go wash your hands. Mary, put this in the center of the table, please.” Ingeborg handed her daughter a plate of warm rolls, fresh from the oven. Setting a platter with a roast surrounded by potatoes next to her place, Ingeborg checked to make sure everything was to her liking.

“Mother, you’ve gone to such trouble. I’ll be around here for months.” Mary clasped her hand over the back of the chair that had always been hers. “Oh, it feels so good to be home.” She counted the places set and looked over at her mother. “Who else is coming?”

“You’ll know soon enough.” A knock at the door brightened Mor’s eyes. “Go answer that while I bring on the coffee.”

Mary gave her a puzzled look and went to do as bid.

“Hello, Mary.” Will Dunfey’s carrot hair had turned to a deep auburn that made his blue eyes even bluer. The smile on his face looked fit to crack the square jaw that he could set with a stubbornness like a bear trap. His shoulders now filled out a blue chambray shirt, open at the neck and with sleeves buttoned at strong wrists.

“Will!” Mary warred with the desire to throw herself into his arms. Instead she stepped back and beckoned him in. He took her hand as he passed, and a shiver went up her arm and straight to her heart. When he took her other hand and turned her to face him, the two shivers met and the delicious collision could be felt clear to her toes.

“So you’re finally home.” Had his voice deepened in the last months or was her memory faulty?

“Yes.”
Say something intelligent, you ninny. This is only Will, you remember him, your best friend?

“Invite him to the table, Daughter.” The gentle prompting came from her mother.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She unlocked her gaze from the deep blue pools of his eyes and, finally coming to herself, gestured him toward the table. “I believe Mother invited you for dinner.”

Will winked at her, nearly undoing her again, and dropping her hands, crossed the room to shake hands with her father. After greeting the Reverend and Mrs. Moen, he took the place next to Mary’s as if he’d been there many times.

The thought of that set Mary to wondering. When she started to pull out her chair, Will leaped to his feet to assist her. Mary stared at him.
What in the world?
She seated herself with a murmured “thank you” and a questioning look over her shoulder. Where had Will, the playmate hero, gone, and when had this exciting man taken his place?

Dinner passed in a blur of laughter, good food, and the kind of visiting that said this was not an unusual occurrence. Daniel treated Will much like his bigger brothers, and Ingeborg scolded the young man like one of her own.

Mary caught up on the news of Soldahl as seen through the loving eyes of her father, the slightly acerbic gaze of her mother, and the humorous observations of Will, who saw things from the point of view of the blacksmith and livery, where he worked for Dag Weinlander.

“The doctor was the latest one,” Will was saying. “I’m going to have to go to mechanic’s school if this drive to buy automobiles continues. You know, at first Dag thought they were a fad, but now that Mrs. Norgaard owns one and expects him to drive her everywhere, he thinks they’re the best.”

“Mrs. Norgaard bought an automobile?” Mary dropped her fork. “At her age?”

“Now dear, seventy isn’t so old when one is in good health.” Ingeborg began stacking the dishes.

“She says she has too much to do to get old,” John said with a chuckle. “When I think back to how close she was to dying after her husband died . . . if it hadn’t been for Clara, she would have given up for sure.”

“That seems so long ago. I remember the classes we had at her house to learn to speak better English. Mrs. Norgaard was determined all the girls would grow up to be proper young ladies, whether we wanted to or not.”

“She took me in hand. If it hadn’t been for her and Dag, I would have gotten on the next train and kept on heading west.” Will smiled in remembrance. “I thought sure once or twice she was going to whack me with that cane of hers.”

“Did she really—whack anyone, that is?” Daniel’s eyes grew round.

“Not that I know of, but for one so tiny, she sure can put the fear of God into you.”

“Ja, and everyone in town has been blessed by her good heart at one time or another.” John held up his coffee cup. “Any more, my dear?”

Ingeborg got to her feet. “I’ll bring the dessert. You stay right there, Mary.”

“Thanks to her that I am at school.” Mary got up anyway and took the remainder of the plates into the kitchen.

“And that the church has a new furnace.”

“And the school, too,” Daniel added.

“Is Mr. Johnston happy here?” Mary had a dream buried deep in her heart of teaching in the Soldahl school, but that could only happen if the current teacher moved elsewhere.

“Very much so. His wife is president of the Ladies’ Aid, such a worker.” Ingeborg returned with the apple pie. “I’d hate for them to leave. Their going would leave a real hole in the congregation.”

Mary nodded. So much for her dream. Surely there would be a school near Soldahl available next year.

They all enjoyed the pie and coffee, with Will taking the second piece Ingeborg pushed at him. He waved away the third offering.

“Mother, you are the best pie maker in the entire world.” Mary licked her fork for the last bit of pie juice. She looked sideways at Will, but he seemed lost in thoughts of his own. Was something wrong?

When she looked at her father at the foot of the table, a look that matched Will’s hovered about his eyes. What was going on?

“I better get back to the church. I have a young couple coming by for marriage counseling.” John pushed his chair back. “You want to walk with me, Son?”

“Sure.” Daniel leaped to his feet.

“I better be getting back to work, too,” Will said with a sigh. “Thank you for such a wonderful meal, Mrs. Moen. I will remember these get-togethers for all time.”

“Thank you, Will. Mary, why don’t you walk Will to the gate? I’ll do the cleaning up here.” Ingeborg smiled, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes.

A goose just walked over my grave,
Mary thought as she sensed something further amiss.

She locked her fingers behind her back as Will ushered her out the door. An intelligent word wouldn’t come to her mind for the life of her.

“So, did you enjoy the last half of school?” Will leaned against the turned post on the porch.