“Of course—how exciting! Do you miss the farm life back home?” Sigrid’s features lit up with excitement. “Stefan can show you all there is to know. Where did you think to settle? What do you want to grow?” The questions came pouring out of her. Had I not been so in pain, I might have appreciated it more, how eager she was to help my sister.
“I do miss it more often now.” Bella started walking again and Sigrid fell in beside her. “I miss open fields and a clear view of the sky. In Chicago, there is smoke everywhere—and dust.” She closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the sun as if to demonstrate how much better things were in the country. “I miss having animals the most,” she continued. “I always had a good hand with cows, and I was thinking of pigs too.”
As I wandered behind them, I wondered again just what it was we were doing here. Surely Bella could inspect farms much closer to the city than this—and she did not even like our hostess. I could tell by how her voice turned a little too sweet, while her eyes remained cold. How her lips twitched as if she fought to hide scorn.
“It’s hard to do it as a widow, though,” she said to Sigrid. “I was thinking I might have to marry again.”
I all but stopped in my tracks in surprise. Why had she not shared these plans? Suddenly it did make sense, why we were out there. She wanted to find a man who did not know about her recent troubles. Someone who had not been tainted by suspicion. She really ought to have told me, though, as I would have been able to tell her that words travel faster than a bee hive to a meadow, and rumors of her plight might have reached Norwegians even here. I also found, as I passed by the empty vegetable beds, that the thought of her remarrying was worrying to me.
I should have seen it coming, though. Of course she would want to remarry. She had money now, that was true, and it would last her a good long while, but she would still want a man’s help and companionship.
I remembered Mr. Lee, and wondered if she knew him still.
“If you invest in land, you won’t have any trouble finding suitors,” Sigrid said. “There’s many gold diggers about, though, so you have to be careful.”
“Oh, I’m no fool,” said my sister. “I won’t take in just anyone.”
“You aim to build a whole new life for yourself.” Sigrid laughed with delight.
“Yes.” Bella chuckled too. “I think perhaps I do.”
* * *
—
Dinner that night was lively. Sigrid’s husband turned out to be an amusing fellow who took great care to make sure his wife was comfortable at all times, passing her salt and gravy before she even asked. Her twin boys were fifteen and regaled us with stories about rabbit hunting. Louisa, Jennie, and Nora had formed a triad in the way that girls that age often do, and were constantly whispering or sending each other meaningful looks, giggling a little even, though it was hardly polite. Myrtle was already in bed next to her baby sister, exhausted from the travel. Sigrid and I soon fell into reminiscences about the old country, while Bella and Stefan discussed the properties of barley and corn. She seemed to be serious about that farm, and a bit of hope that she would truly leave fluttered in my chest once more, quickly extinguished by a bout of guilt.
I told myself sternly that of course I did not want my sister to move away, and yet—somehow—I did.
“Would it be possible to borrow the buggy tomorrow? Sometime before noon?” she suddenly asked our hosts. “I have an acquaintance in the area that I would like to look in on.”
“Who would that be?” Sigrid asked, voicing my own surprise.
“Oh, just a man who lodged with us some years ago. I thought I should see him, since I am here.” She did not even blush but calmly dipped her spoon back in the pudding we had for dessert.
I looked at Bella with something like admiration. She truly was cunning sometimes, dragging us all out here just so she could meet this man.
“Who is it?” Sigrid asked; her spoonful of pudding hovered in the air.
“Peter Gunness,” Bella replied. “A Norwegian in his fifties.” She still did not blush or otherwise reveal any shame.
“Yes, I know who he is. Recently a widower.” Sigrid’s eyebrows rose in a telling manner, but she did not get a rise out of Bella.
“That is just why I want to see him,” she replied. “I would like to give him my condolences.”
“That is very nice of you. Of course you can have the buggy.” Sigrid slipped the spoon between her lips. “Mr. Gunness will appreciate the kindness, I’m sure.”
The next day, I stayed behind with the children while Bella went on her errand. Sigrid and I spent a lazy day in her kitchen with our knitting, while Lucy and Myrtle played on a blanket by our feet. The older girls were there as well, entertaining themselves with cutting silhouettes out of cardboard. They let Myrtle sit with them to watch, and Nora even made a silhouette especially for her, meant to look like a rabbit, but it seemed to me more like a bear. I did not tell her that, of course. Their happy chatter filled the air and soothed my sensitive nerves.
Whenever I thought of Bella’s visit to the widower, I felt uneasy, though. I worried that the visit would not go as she hoped—and then I worried even more that it would. A rash new marriage was perhaps not the wisest of moves, seeing how poor her last marriage was.
I did not have to worry for long, though. Bella was hard-faced and curt on her return. “He was not there,” she informed us as she pulled off her gloves. The massive hat sat crooked on her head; she must have been driving hard. “He will not be back for another few weeks. They said he had gone off to work.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Sigrid looked up from her knitting. “He will appreciate that you called, though.”
“For sure.” Bella did not linger but went back outside to dry off the horse.
“She seemed a little disappointed,” Sigrid remarked in a quiet voice, a half smile on her lips.
“She’ll get over it,” I replied in a voice thick with emotion. My insides flooded with relief.
Bella would not let the issue of marriage lie, however, and was at it again that same night when we gathered in Sigrid’s sitting room. It was just us women then; Stefan had gone early to bed, and so had the girls, though we could still hear the three oldest in Louisa’s room: eager chatter and stifled laughter. They would likely not sleep for some time yet.
We were knitting and sipping small glasses of brandy when Bella broached the subject again.
“You should let it be known that I’m looking for a husband,” she said to Sigrid. Bella was still working on those socks—meant for a new spouse, no doubt. “You could just mention it if you meet someone you think is right, and have them write to me in Chicago. Tell them I’m looking to buy a farm.” Her initial disappointment at not finding Mr. Gunness at home seemed to have dispersed. Now there was a tiny smile lingering on her lips, as if she were sucking on something sweet.
“Oh, you will be flooded in suitors in no time at all. So many would rather have the means to buy the land with houses and all, rather than build it themselves—and who can blame them.”