No Distance Too Far (11 page)

“Let this be my gift to you.”

“But—” As he raised his hand, she nodded. “Thank you. You are most generous.”

When she heard Gerald Valders’ voice asking what number was wanted, she nearly burst. He didn’t need a number. He needed a name. “Ingeborg Bjorklund, please.”

There was a pause. “Astrid, is that you?”

“It is indeed. Happy Easter, Gerald. Or should I call you Mr. Valders now that you are a papa?”

“Oh, our Benny. What a gift you have given us. I will tell him I talked with his Doc Bjorklund, and he’ll shout and clap. Let me ring your house.” His chuckle tickled her ear.

“Hello.”

A boulder stopped in the middle of Astrid’s throat. She couldn’t force a word past it.

“Hello?”

“Mor, I—”

“Astrid. Oh, thank you, God. Haakan, it is Astrid calling us. Happy Easter!”

Astrid could hear shouting and laughing. Tears nearly blinded her. “Happy Easter, Mor!”
Oh, Lord Jesus, I want to go home.

“Where are you?”

“I am at Dean Highsmith’s house. He invited all of us who stayed on campus to have dinner with him and his wife. I just had to hear your voice. I miss you all so much.”

She could hear her mother sniffling. “I sent you a letter this week with all the news, but I forgot to ask you to send me some of my summer dresses. It is too warm here for wool skirts and long-sleeved waists.”

“Ja, I will.”

“Everyone is all right there?”

“Elizabeth is not feeling well. She’s looking pale and tired all the time.”

“Have you given her a going over?”

“She keeps putting me off. Says she just needs more rest. I’ve been helping her some at the surgery.”

“Spring coming will do us all a lot of good. You’ve had more snow?”

“Ja, and freezing at night. But the sun is getting warmer. I am glad you are where it is warm and the sun shines.”

“Thank you, Mor. I need to be going. I wish you could come and see the flowers. I sniff a different one for you every day. I love you.”

“And I love you. Learn all you can.”

Astrid hung up the receiver and wiped her eyes. What a marvelous invention to bring such joy across the many miles between home and Georgia.
What could be wrong with Elizabeth? She was in great health
when I left Blessing in August
. Tired all the time, pale? So many things could start with those symptoms. She needed more information.

8

BLESSING, NORTH DAKOTA

Y
ou didn’t tell her that I nearly fainted at the piano on Easter, did you?”

“No, Elizabeth, I didn’t. But she asked me some questions, and now I am asking you some questions. And I expect honest answers.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “When have I not been honest with you?”

“I’m not sure, but I think you know what is wrong.”

“I’ve missed my second monthly.”

“I suspected that.”

“I was being so careful.” Elizabeth lay back against the pillows on the bed. “I should be through the worst of it in another month or so.”

“Are you keeping food down?”

“Not much. I force myself to eat small amounts and lie down afterward. Sometimes that helps, and sometimes it doesn’t.”

“You need to be drinking warm water, not coffee. We could flavor it with a little honey and ginger.”

“All right.” Elizabeth grabbed her hand. “You know I’ll do whatever I have to do to carry this baby.”

“I know, and right now I’m saying bed rest for a few days at least. Sitting in the sunshine might help. Let me think of some things in my simples that will calm your stomach. Have you told Thorliff?”

Elizabeth sighed. “No, because he will only worry. We’ve been so careful since we lost the last one.”

“Well, it does take two.” Ingeborg grasped Elizabeth’s wrist and counted her pulse. “Does Thelma know?”

“I’m sure she has figured it out. I think Thorliff is afraid to mention it, or he deludes himself into thinking it’s something else. Like I have.” She lowered her gaze, shaking her head. “Can we keep this news from spreading throughout Blessing, at least for right now?”

“I don’t know why not. But remember we have some mighty astute women who will most likely figure it out.” Ingeborg laid the back of her hand against Elizabeth’s cheek.

“I’m not running a fever.”

“I didn’t think you were, but I learned long ago not to take anything for granted.”

“You are wise. Sorry I snapped at you.”

“Do you find yourself unusually touchy?”

“Oh my, yes. That should have been an indication.” She thumped her fist on the covers of the bed. “This is taking a big chance.”

Ingeborg watched her daughter-in-law and wished she could take away some of the pain and fear. “God must want this baby to come into the world, and He figures you and Thorliff are the best parents for little him or her.”

Elizabeth leaned back against the pillows, eyes closed. “I keep reminding myself that with God nothing is impossible. Even a healthy baby and a strong mother.” Silence stretched for a bit. When she spoke, her voice was soft and sounded far away. “Isn’t it ironic that I, the one who loves to help babies into this world, should have so much trouble having my own?”

“How well I know. After Astrid . . .” Ingeborg sat down on the edge of the bed, her mind praying while her medical eyes studied her patient. How to get her daughter-in-law to just rest and let the worries go? Sometimes knowing too much was a cross to bear instead of an aid. She decided the question didn’t really need an answer. After all, she had none. Except that long years ago she’d learned that life was not fair and not always understandable. The only thing one could absolutely count on was God himself, and for some unknown reason He seemed to feel farther away when one needed Him the most.

Going by feelings rather than faith was the culprit. God said He was the same yesterday, today, and forever. So if that was true, and she absolutely believed God’s Word was true, then there was no possible way that He would leave one of His children to suffer alone. His love was too great for that. She understood that was where faith came in, and faith had to grow and be strengthened just like muscles did.

“I can tell you are thinking.” Elizabeth’s smile lacked her usual sparkle.

“Of course. I’m thinking on how much God loves us and lives up to His Word, which says He will never leave nor forsake us. No matter what.”

“So what is He telling you to do with all this?” She rested her hand on her abdomen.

“Same as He always does. To hold His hand and keep on walking with Him.”

“You said I had to stay in bed.”

Ingeborg smiled her gentle, loving smile. “As long as you keep a sense of humor, you’ll be all right.”

“Pa, Gamma is here” came a voice from the hallway. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Guess who.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

“In here, little one. My lap is waiting for you,” Ingeborg called.

Inga burst through the door that Thorliff had opened and, darting across the room, threw herself against Ingeborg’s knees. “Did you see Scooter? He’s this big now.” She held her hand waist high on herself.

“Is he really?”

“Some of us have a slight tendency to exaggerate.” Thorliff leaned against the doorjamb as if hesitant to enter. Arms crossed, he glanced from his wife to his mother.

“I wonder where she got it.” Innocence was not always easy to portray, but Ingeborg made him chuckle.

“Innocent until proven guilty.” He shot questioning looks his wife’s way. “Would it be better if a certain someone went out to Grandma’s to play with Emmy?”

Inga glanced over her shoulder at her father. “Gamma is here, so Emmy can come here to play with me.”

Ingeborg stifled a chuckle. Inga had far too much reasoning power for a child approaching her fourth birthday. Maybe that was because she was around adults so much, but still, she was beyond her years.

“Let’s let it be for today.”

“All right, but I need to get over to the office,” Thorliff said. “She can come with me or—”

“She can stay here.” Ingeborg hugged Inga and whispered in her ear. “You’ll be good and quiet and help mamma feel better, won’t you?”

Inga nodded and turned to her mother. “Doctors don’t get sick.”

“What makes you think that?” Elizabeth asked.

“ ’Cause how can you take care of sick people if you are sick?” She stated it in a way that said, How could anyone think differently?

“That’s a good question. I think Grandma is going to go check on my patients, and you can sit in here with a puzzle, go play in the kitchen with Thelma, or go with Pa to the office. I am going to take a nap.”

“Thelma is scrubbing the floor. She told me to leave.” Inga switched her attention to her father. “Can I draw on big pieces of paper?”

He nodded. “I have to be writing, so you can write too.”

“And Scooter can come?”

“Let’s go get him.” He looked from his mother to his wife. “I’ll be back later.”

Inga gave her grandmother a kiss, another to her mother, and trotted out the door with her father.

“I’m not sure if that was a threat or a promise.” Elizabeth sighed. “Can you please bring me a basin in case I need it?”

“I will and I’ll also bring some warm honey and ginger water to be sipped. Then I’ll check the waiting room.”

As Ingeborg saw Elizabeth’s patients, she kept repeating herself. “Dr. Elizabeth needs some extra rest. You’ll have to make do with me today.” But in spite of that, the morning flew by as if blown by the north wind.

She had the pleasure of telling Dorothy that it did indeed appear she might be with child again. Her Adam was now about ten or eleven months old. They’d be very close in age, but too late to worry about that now. She suggested ginger tea for nausea.

After checking on the tenderness on Benny’s right stump, she and Rebecca tried some new ways of padding.

“So you are using your crutches all the time?” Ingeborg asked.

“Not at home. I scoot there.” His cheeky grin made her laugh.

At home. He knew he had a home now. “You’ve been here how long now?”

“I came just after Christmas. Does the snow stay here all year around?”

Ingeborg shook her head. “No, but as the snow melts, the mud gets outrageous. You try walking outside with your crutches, and the ends of your wooden legs will sink in to your knees.”

He looked to Rebecca.

“I tried to tell you,” she said, “but once it dries out, you’ll be able to use the wagon too.”

“Have you thought about a wheelchair?” Ingeborg asked.

“Gerald has been looking for one, but they are so cumbersome. We were talking with Mr. Landsverk, and he’s thinking of a way to make lighter wheels.”

“Wonderful.” Ingeborg patted Benny’s shoulder. “How’s school going?”

His grin faded. “I’m way behind.”

“I have no doubt you’ll catch up. We’ll make sure you get extra help.” Ingeborg looked to Rebecca. “Next time I come to town, I’ll bring some wool that’s not been carded yet. We’ll try that for padding.”

“Thank you. Come on, Benny. Let’s get you back to school. Pretty soon we won’t be able to pull the sled at all.”

Ingeborg went back and checked on Elizabeth. She was sound asleep, the worry lines on her face smoothed out with rest.
Lord, bring
healing and strength here. A healthy baby and a healthy mother
—
that’s
what we ask for. And thank you for your answers in advance.

When Thorliff came home for dinner, she put the
Closed
sign on the door and joined him and Inga in the kitchen.

“Gamma, I colored all morning. Pa drew me cows and horses and houses, and I colored and colored. I made trees too. Scooter messed on the floor, and Pa got mad at him.”

Thorliff shook his head. “It’s a good thing I didn’t say what I was thinking, or you’d have heard about that too.” He turned to his daughter. “And who was it that was supposed to take the dog outside to do his business?”

Inga stared at the floor. “Me.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I forgot.”

“Did Scooter ask to go out?”

She shrugged, her lower lip a shelf. “I din’t hear him.”

Thelma set a plate of buttered bread on the table. “He always asks to go out, but you have to get there right away. He does well for one so young.”

“This kitchen always smells good,” Ingeborg commented.

“Thelma baked cookies.”

“How is Elizabeth?” Thorliff asked.

“Sleeping. The more we can get her to sleep, the better. She also needs to eat as much as she can, even if it’s only little bits at a time.”

“Is it what I’m thinking?”

Ingeborg nodded, noting the pain in her son’s eyes. “Let’s not go feeling guilty but pray instead.”

“But—”

“We are dealing with what is, not lugging guilt from yesterday or imagining the things that could, but rarely do, happen tomorrow.

If you worry, she will worry, and then—”

“I will worry.” Inga looked at her grandmother. “What is worry?”

Ingeborg and Thorliff both tried to stifle their laughter and failed.

Inga laughed along with them. Thelma served them steaming beef potpie, the crust a golden brown and the insides full of chunks of beef and root vegetables.