Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter (18 page)

I wasn’t able to learn much more than this. Mr. Olsson, in fact, wasn’t the one to tell me about the matter. I learned this from a completely unexpected source—Michael. He had gone to collect milk and overheard Mr. Olsson discussing the matter with the sheriff. Apparently Nils owes money to some men in Salina, and they aren’t exactly waiting patiently. Michael said something was mentioned about the men coming after Mr. Olsson for payment. I admonished Michael to keep the matter to himself, yet here I am sharing the news with you. However, I wouldn’t want to see Uncle Carl hurt in all of this. If Nils is given over to gambling in Kansas, it might well be that he will pick it up again in Minnesota. You should be aware of the problem.

“So what else does Aron have to say?” Carl asked.

Rurik looked at his uncle, uncertain as to what he should share. For now, it seemed best to say nothing. “Not a whole lot.” Rurik quickly scanned the last lines of the letter. “They had a little snow, but otherwise have enjoyed good weather. The family is doing well. Oh, I don’t think I told you this, but Michael, too, has an interest in furniture making.”

“Michael is Aron’s oldest, ja?”

“Ja. He told me just before I came here that he would like to learn the trade. I said perhaps he could join us here
sometime in the summer months. That is, if Aron can spare the boy and you agree to have him.”

“You betcha. Michael is more than welcome. You just bring him here, and we’ll teach him how to make all sorts of things.”

Rurik smiled. “I’ll let Aron know and see what he has to say about it.”

“Have you told your brother about Svea’s situation?”

He saw his uncle’s concerned look and shook his head. “I didn’t want to shame her. I figure it’s her news to tell. I did mention that she was trying to get me to marry her quickly, but not why. I think it’s best that kind of thing come from her.”

“I think you’re right.” Carl lifted the pot of stew from the back of the stove and put it on the burner. “It’s a terrible burden for a young woman.”

Rurik nodded. “I know. Yet I cannot make this right for her. It would be different if I loved her.” He shook his head. “I care for her and Nils very much. I wish there were an easier way to handle it—for everyone concerned.”

“It’s never easy to face our consequences.” Carl stirred the stew. “But you’re doing right by praying for them and being a friend.”

Rurik frowned. “I don’t guess I feel like I’m being much of a friend. I was kind of harsh with Svea a while back. Nils too. I suppose I need to work on my own heart.” He refolded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. His thoughts went to Merrill, and he knew that more than anything, he really wanted to talk to her.

“I was thinking about riding out to the Krause farm.”

Carl looked at him, lips pursed. “It’s near to dark, ja?”

Rurik nodded. “I suppose it’s not the best idea, eh?”

“Probably not.” Carl smiled. “But since when do you vorry about the best idea when your heart tells you to do something? You go on. I can eat stew without you. Besides, maybe you’ll get invited to take supper with them. Merrill’s cooking is better than this old stew that I threw together.”

Rurik laughed. “Miss Krause’s cooking beats anything I’ve ever had.”

“Then, maybe you should marry that gal,” Carl said with a grin.

Shrugging, Rurik nodded. “Maybe I should.”

Merrill heard a knock, wiped her floury hands on her apron, and moved to the back door. Who could be calling this late? She found herself face-to-face with Rurik. He doffed his hat in greeting and gave a quick nod.

“Mr. Jorgenson . . . This is . . . a surprise.” She motioned him inside the kitchen. “I need to check on something in the oven, but please make yourself at home.” She hurried to pull out a tray of golden brown
bierocks
. The aroma of the fresh bread dough, cabbage, and meat filled the air.

“My father and brothers should be back anytime, so you’re free to wait.”

“Actually, Miss Krause, I came to see you.” He gripped his hat in front of him, like he was feeling a bit uncertain.

She pulled a second pan from the oven and placed it on the counter before taking a deep breath and turning to face her visitor. Had he come to accept her apology, or was he here to chide her for her behavior? Merrill wiped her hands on the apron and nodded, encouraging him to continue. She’d just as soon get this over with, whatever it was.

Rurik smiled crookedly. “I appreciated your words on
Sunday. I know it wasn’t easy to come to me like that, and your spirit humbled me.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. “I’m truly sorry for the way I acted at the shop.”

“I know. I wanted to say as much on Sunday, but . . . well . . . you remember how it was.”

She nodded. Turning back to her tasks she placed the baked bierocks on a platter and prepared another dozen to go into the oven. She waited for Rurik to say more.

“I really can’t blame you for what you said,” he continued quietly. “I knew Svea and Nils coming here was going to open a big crate of problems. I just didn’t know exactly how big that problem was going to become—or how I should deal with it. . . .”

Putting the pan in the oven, Merrill checked the fire below. “These things do have a way of taking on a life of their own.” She stirred the gravy, finally determining she had done all she could to keep her hands busy to cover her own discomfort. She must now give Rurik her full attention. She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Nevertheless, I was wrong, and I realize that. It wasn’t just the eavesdropping, either. It was my rush to judgment. I’m afraid I’ve always been rather inclined toward that. I’ve been working on it, however.” She gave a little shrug. “Apparently not hard enough. But this whole thing has been a good reminder of the consequences.”

Rurik shook his head. “I appreciate you being honest with me, Merrill.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind me addressing you that way.” She nodded her permission, and he said, “Other folks have been talking behind my back or making
their own judgments without saying a word to me. I didn’t want to cause Svea further shame or pain when I learned about—well, about her condition. I never figured she’d say we were still engaged, however. I don’t think too many folks know about the baby, but I’m sure they will soon enough.”

“Can’t she go back to Kansas?” Merrill asked. “Surely she doesn’t expect you to take on the responsibility for another man’s child.”

Rurik twisted his hat in his hands. Merrill immediately realized she hadn’t taken his things. “Oh, do let me hang up your hat and coat. You will stay for supper, won’t you, Mr. Jorgenson?”

“I’d like that, but I was wondering if you would do something for me. Would you call me Rurik?” He handed her his hat.

She nodded, feeling strangely shy. He grinned and began to unfasten his coat. “Good, we’ve got names settled. And yes, I’d like very much to join you for supper. It smells absolutely wonderful in here.”

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable here at the kitchen table?” she invited, hanging his things by the door. “Like I said, my father and brothers will be back here soon enough, and then we’ll take our meal in the dining room. Meanwhile, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I would,” he said, pulling out a chair. “As for your earlier question, Svea apparently did expect me to take on another man’s child. She came here to try to coerce me into marriage. She even told Nils that the baby was mine. I’ve tried to set him straight on the matter, but he seems reluctant to believe me.”

Merrill poured the coffee and brought it to Rurik. “I’m sure they’re both quite frightened,” she said, though she wasn’t feeling all that charitable toward the two right then. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t extend much in the way of Christian charity—to you or to her. It was Granny Lassiter who suggested that perhaps Svea had been wronged—attacked, even.”

“I’d thought of that, too,” Rurik admitted. “However, I know she was acting quite forward with other men around town after our engagement was broken. My brother wrote to say as much. But it’s possible that as she got involved romantically, someone took advantage of her.”

“It’s a very difficult situation for a young woman whatever the circumstances.” Merrill met his gaze and lost her train of thought momentarily. Granny’s comments about Rurik possibly having feelings for her came back to her. How she longed to know the truth!

But that might mean I’d have to share my feelings for him. And what if I do that and Granny is wrong? He might be completely put out that I’ve been so forward.

She looked away. Was she ready to face a possible rebuff?

“I know she’s most likely afraid,” Rurik said after a long pause. “I care about her—just as I do Nils. Our families have been friends forever, and I feel very much like a brother to both of them.”

“How did the two of you come to be engaged?” Merrill asked without thinking.

“That was our fathers’ doing,” he said, not sounding like he was put off by her question. “My father came from a tradition of arranged marriages. In most cases, those unions went well.
However, when it came to me . . . well . . . I don’t think my father really understood much about me. He wanted me to be a farmer, and I wanted to make furniture. We got along well enough, but I think I was rather puzzling to him. Especially when it comes to what I want in a wife.”

“And what is that?” She bit her tongue.
How could I have been so bold?
she wailed to herself.

He smiled and, as if reading her thoughts, said without a pause, “I need a strong woman. A woman who isn’t afraid of hard work and hard times. I need a woman who is knowledgeable about many things, one who is kind and gentle, generous with those in need. I prefer someone who is creative, and above all, she must love the Lord.”

Merrill swallowed hard and stared at her work-hardened hands. He’d not once said a word about looking for one who was delicate and pretty or one who liked to fuss with her hair and wear beautiful clothes. Merrill felt a little weak in the knees when she lifted her gaze and found Rurik studying her. She stood to check on the food again, fighting to control her nerves. “I think loving God is the most important thing for anyone,” she said as she pulled the pan out of the oven to cool.

“I do, too,” he replied as she returned to the table. “My parents taught me that God must always be put first. One of the very first things I remember memorizing was the Lord’s Prayer—in Swedish.”

Merrill cast a glance over her shoulder and chuckled. “I’d love to hear that.”

He nodded. “
Fader Vår som är i Himmelen. Helgat varde Ditt namn. Tillkomme Ditt Rike. Ske Din vilja, såsom i
Himmelen så ock på Jorden. Vårt dagliga bröd giv oss idag Och förlåt oss våra skulder såsom ock vi förlåta dem oss skyldiga äro och inled oss icke i frestelse utan fräls oss ifrån ondo. Ty Riket är Ditt och Makten och Härligheten i Evighet. Amen
.”

The words flowed quickly in the singsong manner Merrill had come to expect from Swedes. “That’s really beautiful.”

“How about letting me hear it in German?”

“I don’t really know much German. My family is several generations American. My father could say it for you, but I’m afraid you’d only get bits and pieces of the prayer from me.”

He smiled. “I liked the little prayer you translated for me at dinner that first meal I shared with your family.”

“German is a harsher-sounding language,” Merrill said thoughtfully. “I often tease my father about how angry it can sound. There were times he has spoken in rapid German to friends, and I’ve wondered if they were having a disagreement.”

“I grew up with my parents and grandparents speaking Swedish at home. However, in public we were admonished to speak only English. My family wanted to be seen as American in every way possible.”

“Mine too. Perhaps with exception of the food. My father still prefers German dishes over just about anything else.” Merrill heard the sound of a wagon outside. “That will be my family. They’ve been loading ice all day onto train cars.”

“Before they come storming in here, I just want to say that . . . well . . . I’ve enjoyed this time with you, Merrill. I also enjoy our time together at the shop.”

She smiled and nodded. “As do I.”

“I want to explain something. I feel I owe it to you.”

Merrill shook her head. “I’m sure I don’t need any explanations. . . .” She didn’t know how to finish, but the truth was she really did want to know what he was thinking and feeling.

Rurik looked down at the table. “When your brother Tobe asked me about Nils, I have to admit I had no desire to be complimentary. I didn’t want Tobe to take back a good report to your father and possibly complicate your life with someone who really isn’t worthy. . . .”

“I see,” she said when he didn’t continue, mostly to invite him to tell her more about the incident.

“I don’t think you do,” he said, glancing up. “The real reason, though, is that I didn’t want your father to give Nils permission to court you . . . because . . . well, I’d like to have that honor myself.”

Merrill felt her breath catch and the words stick in her throat.
He wants to court me!

“I suppose this comes as a shock, and maybe you have no interest, given all that has happened with Svea and Nils, but I can’t help speaking the truth of how I feel. Of course, I really need to resolve everything with Svea before I ask your father for permission to see you, but I’m hoping you approve.”

Just then Flynn burst through the door. “I’m half frozen to death—oh, it’s you, Rurik! Good to see you. Are you staying for supper?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Hmmm, bierocks. My favorite.”

Rurik threw a glance Merrill’s way, then nodded at her brother. “Your sister invited me to do just that, and from
the aroma of her cooking, I knew it would be impossible to refuse.”

Flynn walked to the platter of bierocks and pinched a piece of bread from the end. “You won’t be sorry,” he said around the bite.

Merrill listened as her brothers entered and began their own conversations with Rurik. They led him away from the kitchen, talking about the day and all that had happened.

When she was alone, Merrill stood in wonder of all that had happened. Had Rurik really just declared his interest in her?

“And after I was so harsh with him . . .” she murmured.

“What was that?”

She turned to see her father standing at the door.

“Just mumbling to myself, Father. Rurik Jorgenson is here. I invited him to stay for supper.” She wondered if she should mention his desire to court her, but she decided she wanted to keep that wonderful possibility all to herself for a while. And as Rurik said, he needed to resolve matters with Svea once and for all before he’d truly be free.

Father hung his coat next to Rurik’s. “I saw his horse out there and put it in the barn. Where’s Rurik?”

“In the front room with the boys.” She turned to put the gravy in its serving bowl with a ladle. “I’ll have supper on the table in a few minutes. Oh, and would you do me a favor tonight?” She glanced at him with a little smile.

Her father returned the smile, rubbing his whiskery chin. “I’m almost afraid to ask what the favor is, but let’s hear it.”

“Would you say the Lord’s Prayer . . . in German this time?”

“That’s all?”

Merrill laughed and turned her attention back to the food. “That’s all.”

Her father laughed, too. “Sometimes I don’t know what you’re thinking, Merrill Jean, but I have a feeling there’s a plan even in this.”

“Could be,” she said, smiling to herself.
Could be.