Streams of Mercy (42 page)

He choked on the amen.

Solberg rose and stepped down to the floor, hymn book in one hand, and laid the other on Devlin’s shoulder. “Thomas Devlin, fellow servant of our Lord God, may you go forth to serve your new parish with all wisdom and love, depending solely on His mighty Word and seeking His will moment by moment. May you be a blessing there and far more than you have been here with us. I thank our God for the privilege of friendship and teaching, as He said, iron sharpening iron. Let us pray.” When the rustling stopped, he continued. “Thank you, Most High God, our heavenly Father, for the blessings you pour out upon us, and your promises to continue to protect us all, near and far, this congregation and the one that will be blessed by this man you have commissioned and sent forth. Lord God, we praise you and thank you. Amen.”

The two men clasped each other in a mighty hug. Devlin sat down and Reverend Solberg nodded to the musicians. Four men walked forward to receive the carved wooden offering plates that Thomas Devlin and his woodworking students at the Deaf School had turned from a local seasoned oak tree and presented to the congregation months earlier. As they moved down the aisles, the musicians played “’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” Everyone rose to sing the offering hymn when the men came forward. “Let us
pray together the prayer Jesus taught us to pray. ‘Our Father . . .’” The congregation joined in and at the amen, the musicians moved into the doxology. Thomas joined John again, and together they raised their hands and prayed. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee His peace. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” They both made the sign of the cross as they did so.

The musicians began the hymn “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” as the two friends sang and strode down the aisle. At the amen, Reverend Solberg said, “Go in peace and serve the Lord.” Everyone said amen. Jonathan Gould signaled his fellow musicians, and they played a medley of Irish tunes as the congregation rose, greeted each other, and filed out.

Thomas Devlin took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his eyes. “Blessed for sure. Thank ye, my friend.”

As the congregation reached them, both men greeted and shook hands.

“Do you have to leave?” Inga asked when she and Emmy took their turn, Ingeborg right behind them.

“I do, but I will never forget either one of ye.”

“I don’t like people to leave.” Inga buried her face in her grandma’s skirt, then sighed and turned to reach for her pa’s right hand. Together they walked out the door, Thorliff using Haakan’s cane, with Inga and Emmy on either side of him and Ingeborg carrying his son.

As folks gathered outside in their normal groups, the women getting the tables ready, someone whistled when all was prepared, and together they sang the table prayer.

Solberg nodded and announced, “Since today we honor Thomas Devlin, he will be at the front of the line and then will be the umpire behind the plate for our ball game. Thorliff will umpire first base and Lars will be behind the pitcher. Our
teams will be announced after dinner. The diamond is all set at the school, and we have made sure to bat out away from the windows of both school and church. Let’s eat.”

“Must I truly be first?”

“Ye do!” John pointed to the head of the line.

“Then ye have to be second and Ingeborg third.”

“Mighty bossy for a man who’s leaving town.”

“Ja, you Norwegians taught this wandering Irishman how to do that.” With everyone laughing, the lines formed on either side of the long table, and people filled their plates.

Plate in one hand, fork in the other, Devlin wandered around visiting with people. When he came to Thorliff, he asked, “Did ye agree to umpire?”

Thorliff nodded. “Ja, I would rather play, bat the leather off the ball, but not yet.” He lifted his weak right arm.

“I be right proud of you, son.”

Thorliff tightened his jaw and inhaled as if running out of air. “Enough, please.”

“Pa, Roald is eating dirt.”

Thorliff rolled his eyes, and while unable to return the laughter from around him, he reached for his toddling son.

“Let me take him, please?” Ingeborg asked softly.

Thorliff nodded. “Be my guest.” He set his empty plate down and rose to his feet. “You want some coffee?”

“Please and thank you.”

Inga leaned against her grandma. “Pa has sad eyes.”

“Ja, he does, but someday his happy eyes will be back.” She snatched a leaf out of Roald’s fat little fist and hugged Inga close with her other arm. “Let’s see if we can keep him on the blanket, all right?”

Inga heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Roald will eat anything.”

“You want to go get him a cookie?”

“Me too?”

“I’ll watch Roald, Grandma, if you want to go visiting,” Emmy offered.

“How about you go with Inga and bring us a plate with cake and cookies on it to go with the coffee Thorliff is bringing.”

“Okay.” Emmy smiled. “I’ll take Roald for a swing later.”

“Takk.” Ingeborg watched the two girls, who were best friends, run off.

Astrid swooped over and picked up Roald, making him giggle. “You getting in trouble again, Roally?”

“At the rate he is going, he is always going to be in trouble of one kind or another.” Ingeborg smiled up at her son, who held out a cup of coffee. “Takk.” She shifted back to Astrid. “I’m glad to see you here.”

“No emergencies at the hospital, so I left Dr. Johnson in charge. He can handle most anything. I sure will hate to see him go.”

“When does he leave?”

Astrid sat down on the blanket, one hand locked in Roald’s suspender. “Another week. He asked if he can come back here when he finishes his residency.”

“Really? I thought he was a city boy.”

“He thought so too. If only we could afford him. I think the hospital would rather send us interns than pay a full-time staff member. I don’t know. We have to do more talking.”

Daniel and his mother joined them on the blanket, and Roald made a beeline for him. Ever since Elizabeth’s death, Astrid and Daniel had spent more time with both Inga and Roald, helping take some of the pressure off Thelma, the Bjorklund housekeeper, since Thorliff spent so much time in his printshop.

Daniel lifted Roald up in the air and made him giggle even more. “How about washing this guy’s face?”

Inga and Emmy brought back plates of dessert, just in time for Inga to advise, “Roald does not like to have his face washed.”

“Hands either,” Emmy added as she passed the plate around.

“Five minutes to game time,” Reverend Solberg announced. “I’ll read off the teams as soon as everyone gets to the diamond.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Daniel asked Thorliff.

“Ja, you going to play?”

“He better. His name is on the list.” Astrid elbowed her husband. “No rest for the weary, you know.”

“I thought that was for the wicked.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“Onkel Daniel isn’t wicked.” Inga looked at Astrid like she needed scolding.

Ingeborg and Astrid exchanged headshakes.

“You tell ’em, Inga.” He handed Roald back to Astrid. “Let’s go play ball.”

Ingeborg watched the two men walk off. Maybe a baseball game would help Thorliff think of something else for a change. Grief could eat one up if you allowed it. Losing his pa was hard enough, but losing Elizabeth along with good use of his right arm had hit her son horribly hard.

While the men headed for the field, the women gathered up their blankets and moved over to watch. Ingeborg showed the girls where to spread the blanket under the cottonwood tree that Inga had fallen out of. Since she broke her arm, others had fallen from the big tree also, causing various scrapes and bruises. She remembered the day they had planted the sapling to grow up and help shade the schoolhouse. Now there were other trees getting of shade size too. The whole town looked
like it had been in place a long time as the trees had grown. Trees made a town feel more welcoming. Main Street used to be dusty in the summer, muddy in the spring, puddles when it rained, and frozen solid in the winter. The early pictures they had did not look welcoming.

“Where did you go, Mor?” Astrid asked.

“Sometimes I just get lost in memories.” She smiled and grabbed Roald’s suspenders again. “I have a feeling this young man needs a diaper change.”

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Batter up!” called Devlin from behind home plate. “Blue team first. Rebecca promised free sodas to the winning team.”

“I sure am going to miss Devlin,” Ingeborg said with a sigh.

“Not as much as John will, and we have yet to find a schoolteacher for the high school, let alone the woodworking program at the Deaf School.” Amelia Jeffers still taught English to anyone who wanted to come. She always had a big class but had started a new one on reading. Many of the immigrants could now converse in English, albeit with heavy accents, but they needed to be able to read too and know their numbers.

By the time the five-inning game finished, with blue winning by one run, Roald had slept for an hour, some of the spectators were hoarse from cheering their team, and all the players were dripping wet. Devlin announced the winning team and handed out tickets to be redeemed at the soda shop in the future. The ice cream makers who had been cranking the ice cream earlier announced the flavors, and everyone lined up for their bowl of ice cream. Big jugs of lemonade had been hauled over from the boardinghouse.

“What a celebration,” Ingeborg said as she accepted the bowl of ice cream Inga brought her. “Takk.”

“I got you strawberry ’cause I know you like that best.”

“What kind are you going to get?”

“Strawberry, with chocolate syrup.”

Devlin brought his dish over and sank down on the blanket. “I sure am going to miss this place and all of ye.”

Ingeborg watched his face as he watched Anji Moen help dish out the ice cream. Leaving her behind would undoubtedly be the hardest thing of all for him. Being turned down when in love was never easy either.

Epilogue

A
nji watched Thorliff fight a losing battle with his typewriter. “I can do that for you, you know. Just tell me what you want to say, and I’ll type it.”

“No!” Thorliff turned from the typewriter and his painfully learned left-handed typing. After more than four months of therapy, he could use his right arm and hand, but his fingers were stiff, clumsy, and terribly weak. “How many times do you suppose you’ve said ‘The more you use your hand the better it will become?’ Well, I’m trying. And nothing’s happening. But your doing it for me isn’t going to make it happen either, so stop offering.” His clipped words grated. They stung. The dark circles around his eyes had grown larger in these last months, rather than diminishing.

“Sorry.” She could do clipped too. All right, she understood he was frustrated. But she was only trying to help get the paper out on time, this time. The hours were speeding by, and he could be setting type, which he did adequately one-handed. “Do you want me to start setting?”

“No!” He used the back of his hand to kick the carriage back. He blew out a breath. “Look, Anji, I’m sorry I blew up. You have been and are a big help!” His tone slammed like the carriage. “I appreciate it. But I
have
to do this myself.” He scrubbed his left hand over his hair, smearing ink on his forehead. “I sure wish Devlin had stayed here.”

Yeah, well, so do I!
Keeping her mouth shut took a major miracle. “So it’s all right if Thomas Devlin helps you, but not Anji Moen.” Sarcasm bit.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” He leaned forward to look at his page. “Stop taking me wrong.”

“How many months have we been having this discussion, Thorliff? You can’t manage, but you don’t want me to help.” Anji caught herself. She truly believed God had assigned her this calling. But right now! She sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry.” A calling was not necessarily an easy thing.

He yanked the paper out of the carriage. “Proofread this for me and then I’ll get it set. If nothing more goes wrong, we’ll get this printed yet tonight.”

Or die trying? She didn’t say that, but she couldn’t hold back the “You’re welcome.” She hoped the ice dripping from her tone caused bleeding. He had resented her from the first time his mother showed her how to move his right leg, shoulder, arm, and lastly the hand. The hand that would rather become a claw. With both her and Ingeborg working with him, he had finally been able to walk with barely a limp, but the arm and the hand were as stubborn as his manly pride. Why was it so hard for a man to accept help? Especially help from a woman?

Ten o’clock had come and gone by the time they had the paper printed, folded, and bundled, ready for Lemuel to distribute in the morning. Her hands ached, her shoulders, back, and clear
down to her feet. If she felt this beat, what about him?
“Serves you right”
itched to be said.

Under normal circumstances, even when she and Thomas had filled in while Thorliff was still bedridden and until he got on that train, the job should have been done by five. There were weeks without a paper in Blessing, but when he was finally able to oversee the press with Anji doing the labor, things had gone more smoothly. Several times they had been forced to skip a week, taking two weeks for an edition, especially when he decided he should be able to do it himself again. She had written most of the news, almost like dictation, but when he decided he would type too . . . She would rather teach school any day.

At the sink she scrubbed the ink off her hands and watched him struggle through cleaning both of his hands. He refused her help there too, so she had stopped offering. If only he were not so stubborn, stubborn and proud, life could be so much easier for him.

And for her. She damped the stove, he blew out the lamps, and they shrugged into their coats. Wrapping her scarf over her head and around her neck, she tucked the ends in her coat.

“Winter is coming early.” Stepping into the cold, she tried to ignore the bite of the November wind.