Ingrid glared at Ander. “I was going to confess, but you beat me to it.”
Ingrid was a little troublemaker all right. One night at dinner she looked over and asked Miss Beemer right out, “Is that big tall Gustav who walks you home from school every day your boyfriend?” Teddy kicked her under the table.
Katrina quickly said, “Ingrid! Don’t be so silly. How rude.”
“But what’s wrong with having a boyfriend? Ander said he was my boyfriend, and Teddy likes Elsa Bergsen.”
“I do not!” said Teddy, quickly defending himself. “Miss Beemer, she’s lying. Don’t you believe her.”
Miss Beemer smiled. “Why, Teddy, I think Elsa is a very lovely little girl.”
Katrina had been terribly embarrassed that Ingrid had asked Lucille that question, but on the other hand she had wondered about Lucille. She was so fond of her, and was concerned that she didn’t seem to have any friends her own age.
Later that night, when the two of them were in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, Katrina said, “I’m sorry Ingrid was so fresh, Lucille.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Mrs. Nordstrom. She just has a curious mind.”
“But do you have a young man you like, Lucille? I only ask because, if so, I want you to feel free to invite him here to visit anytime.”
“Oh no…there’s no one,” Lucille said, taking another plate to dry.
“Well, I’m sure there will be very soon. You’re so good with children I think you will make someone a wonderful wife and mother someday.”
“Really? How kind of you to say so, but no. I doubt if I’ll ever marry.”
“But why?”
Miss Beemer sighed. “Oh, it’s just a feeling I have.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. I used to think that, and now look at me.”
Just then they heard the most awful yelling. “Help, help!” Ingrid yelled as she came running through the kitchen, knocking over a chair, with Teddy not far behind her, knocking over another as he chased her around the table.
He yelled, “Mother, she stole my notebook.”
“I did not!” screamed Ingrid as she headed out the other door.
Katrina called out after them. “Children, stop that racket! Right now. Your father is trying to read.”
Then Katrina looked at Lucille and laughed. “Of course, I suppose there is something to be said for being single. At least it would be quiet.”
—
IT WASN’T ANY QUIETER over at the Swensens’ farm either. For the past few months, Birdie Swensen had been trying her best to knit her boy Ander a new sweater for his upcoming birthday. But it had been difficult with Ander always running in and out of her sewing room, interrupting her. And if it wasn’t Ander, it was Lars or one of the farmhands wanting something. So lately, when she went up to the cemetery with her basket of gardening tools, she had brought her knitting things with her. And after she finished her watering and pruning, she would turn the basket over, sit on it, and knit. It was so nice to be out of the house, sitting in nature all alone up on the hill, just her and the birds.
As she sat and knitted, Birdie often thought about the time when someone would be buried up on this hill. They had been lucky so far, other than a few scares—one with Katrina’s childbed fever. But everybody was still pretty healthy, and so far, they had not lost anyone. But they were all fairly young yet.
It was on these days that Birdie first began to notice something strange. She suspected it was just her silly imagination playing tricks on her. It had to be. But she continued to have the oddest feeling that someone was watching her. And, of course, Birdie was right. There was.
1902
In the new little town of Elmwood Springs, Missouri, wooden sidewalks had replaced the dirt paths, and a real downtown business area started to develop. First, a farm supply store opened, then a blacksmith shop, a drugstore, a general merchandise store, and a grocery store, where you could buy crackers and cheese and a pickle for a nickel.
On Saturday mornings, Main Street was packed with farm wagons and people walking up and down, shopping and visiting, women buying material for clothes, men looking at farm supplies. Kids were eating ice cream cones in the front of the drugstore, and the men (except Reverend Edwin Wimsbly) enjoyed a small shot of whiskey in the back. For medicinal purposes only. But mostly, they just visited up and down the street with neighbors they hadn’t seen all week. The men, sitting on the benches in front of the drugstore, feeling warm and rosy after their drugstore medicine, would marvel at how much the women loved to talk. They didn’t understand how lonely farm living could be for their wives. Unlike the men, they needed the company of other women.
Katrina loved her lady neighbors and enjoyed the knitting class that Birdie Swensen held in her home every Thursday afternoon. Birdie and the rest of the ladies had been so kind to her, especially when the babies came. But she still missed her own mother so much. Too many years of missing her had passed by. One day, Lordor came in from the farm and found her crying, and when she told him how much she wanted to see her mother again, Lordor took her in his arms. “You write and tell her to come. The whole family belongs here with us.”
Soon a telegram arrived saying that Katrina’s mother, her sister, Brigette, and her brother, Olaf, would come. Katrina was overjoyed.
Less than three months later, Katrina was smiling as she took her bread out of the oven. So many letters and documents had gone back and forth, and it had taken a lot of time and work, but Lordor had made all the arrangements. At last, her mother would live in a home with heat and running water. Katrina couldn’t wait for her to arrive. She and Lordor had saved money in a coffee tin from the profits on the dairy, and some had just been sent to Sweden to buy the tickets. It made Lordor happy to see Katrina so happy.
A few weeks later, a letter came.
My Dear Daughter,
Please forgive me, but the doctor comes and tells me my old body will not make the trip to America or live to finish it. But don’t be sad for me. America is for the young, for ones with prayers yet to be answered. All my prayers have been answered. Because of you and Lordor, my children and grandchildren will never be hungry. Thank you for the pictures of Ingrid and Teddy. So pretty. So handsome like his poppa. I think of you every day.
Love forever,
Ingrid Olsen, Your Momma
Not long after that day, word came by telegram that her mother had died.