Chapter 27
Canning never used to wear her out like this. They were only a week into August, so she would still be at it for weeks.
“You go out on the porch and join Haakan and Manny. I’ll mix up some gingerbread for supper tonight. The pork chops are ready to put on, and the noodles are drying fine.” Freda made shooing motions with her hands.
“I’ll take that last pan of beans to snap, then.”
“I thought to can them whole and pickle part of them. What do you think?”
“That would be different.” Ingeborg stopped before opening the screen door and watched Haakan with Manny.
“You never had a knife before?” Haakan asked.
“Sure I did. But just whittled sticks and such. Didn’t never carve nothing. Not like you do.”
“Who made the furniture for your house?”
“Papaw used to. But he died. Pa wasn’t much for workin’ like that. He grew tabaccy to sell for cash money. Din’t have too good a luck with it. Nor much of anything, really. He did good with moonshine, till the rev’nooers like to strung him up. Busted up his still and one of his arms.”
Haakan kept on working the piece of wood he had rough-shaped into a soup ladle.
What kind of a life has that poor boy led? Ingeborg sat down on the chair Freda set behind her, relishing the breeze cooling her skin. Canning turned the kitchen into a steam bath. But they would most certainly appreciate the results in the winter. The shelves down in the cellar were already lined with canned raspberries and strawberries, jam, syrup, string beans, and some canned shelled beans. The leather britches were drying up in the extra bedrooms. The heat of the sun on the roof could dry most anything.
“So you would teach me how to carve like that?”
Ingeborg knew what great courage it took for the boy to ask that. Haakan did not let on his joy. He’d confided to Ingeborg that he wasn’t sure if he was getting through to Manny. But he was.
“First, you need to keep your knife really sharp. I use a whetstone all the time.” Haakan picked up the stone, spit on it, and started working his knife around in circles on the gritty surface. “You do first one side then the other. Always in a circle. If you do so often enough, you’ll hone a good edge on your knife, then keeping it up is far easier.” He reached down in the toolbox beside his chair and handed Manny one of the stones too.
“So where is your knife?”
Manny hung his head. “I . . . I lost it. Or one of my brothers took it. Not sure which.”
“First of all, you need a knife.” Haakan put his wood and knife down. “I’ll go look in a couple places. I’m sure we have another one somewhere. We’ll start you out on something easier than the one I’m working on. There are never too many wooden spoons in a kitchen.”
Ingeborg scooted her chair back to let Haakan come in. She mouthed I told you so when he went by, making him grin back at her. She felt like they were being conspirators, ganging up on a bruised and broken boy. One who needed all the love and attention they could give him, even though Manny had no idea what he needed or wanted. Right now the way to his heart was not only good food but a man who cared and showed it.
She watched as Manny studied the hand-carved pieces of his crutch. He ran his fingers over the crossbar and studied the holes the bar fit into. When Haakan returned Manny pointed to his crutch.
“Did you make this?”
“Well, me and Lars.” Haakan sat down beside him. “See, we started with a strong willow branch that was still green so that it could be bent. I tried using one and splitting it to make the two sides here.” He ran his fingers over the parts he wanted Manny to understand. “Then we carved a curved bar for the top, but that didn’t turn out strong enough, so we went with two branches and bolted them together, then carved the two crossbars, one for under the arm, one for the hands. That’s something about figuring out a project like this. We had to make it sturdy enough to last and smooth enough so you wouldn’t get slivers. Next time, I’m going to use seasoned wood like—”
“What is seasoned?”
“Wood that’s been dried. We put pieces we think might work for something up in the rafters of the machine shed. Good wood is a treasure. Did your Papaw have a place to store the wood he might use?”
“Don’t know. I was too young to learn enough. And then he died and no one else liked to do wood like he did.”
“Seems you have an interest in it.”
Ingeborg watched Manny draw back. As if he might have said too much?
“I found you a knife, but it needs a good edge. Been in the drawer too long, I guess.” Haakan handed the knife to Manny, whose smile took off without his permission.
“For me?”
Haakan nodded. “It needs to be used. Tools are like people. They need to be used. And useful. So let’s start getting edges on both blades. The little blade is good for getting into small places, but you will use the large blade mostly, so let’s start sharpening that one.” He opened his knife blade, picked up his whetstone, and waited for Manny to do the same. “Now you just do what I do and we’ll see how this goes.” Manny followed his every move, and within moments, they were both making circles on the grainy stone.
Ingeborg enjoyed just watching them. Seeing life in Manny’s eyes was worth any kind of effort, and Haakan made it all look so simple.
“Okay, let’s turn that blade over and do the same on the other side. Tilt your knife a hair more. After a while you develop a sixth sense that tells you when the knife is just right. Because yours is so dull, it will take plenty of grinding. Let me work with yours, and you see what a finer edge feels like.”
“But what if I mess up your blade?” Manny’s eyes widened.
Was he afraid? Ingeborg added a specific prayer to her ongoing list. Someone wounded that boy pretty bad if he didn’t do something just right.
“I’ll be watching to make sure you keep on track. Manny, this isn’t life or death. We’re just sharpening our knives.”
The boy nodded, but his shoulders looked pinned to his earlobes.
Ingeborg wanted to go out and rub his back, his shoulders, give him a haircut, tease him into a smile or possibly a laugh. The only time she’d heard him laugh was when he was with Inga and Benny and the two calves in the barn.
“Where are you off to?” Haakan asked while keeping an eye on Manny and his circle-making on the whetstone.
Trygve leaned again the porch post, sipping from the glass of strawberry swizzle Freda had brought out immediately when Trygve greeted the others.
“I’m going in to retrieve the mail. You want to walk along?”
Haakan nodded. “Thought I’d wait until it started to cool down a bit, but . . .”
Ingeborg stepped out the door. “How about you help Freda and me for a while, Manny? And I was thinking, Miss Hastings is working the day shift today, so she might enjoy coming out here for supper if you would walk her out?” While she looked to Haakan, she kept an eye on Trygve. If he were a woman, would he be blushing? It was just as she thought. Their Trygve was finally smitten. She and Kaaren had been fairly sure, and they were both delighted. They’d not mentioned it to Haakan and Lars yet. Was this one of the reasons Trygve chose not to go out with the threshing crew? Although Andrew did need more help at home too.
Manny looked up from his careful knife sharpening with a nod. He handed his knife to Haakan. “What do you think?”
Haakan felt the edge with his thumb, then held the knife blade up to the light. “It’s coming right along. You’ll need to work on the tip more, but were you to cut that small block into slivers, this would work. The finer the edge the sharper, but it takes plenty of practice to feel the difference. Try cutting fine, even slivers off that piece of wood. When you whittled as a boy you weren’t trying for perfection. The smoother you shave and cut, the less sanding you will have to do. Keep all your shavings in a basket—makes good fire starter.”
“So right now that is my job? To make good fire starter?”
Ingeborg chuckled when Haakan snuckled. She loved that combination of a snort and a chuckle. Manny grinned. She could tell he was pleased to get that reaction from Haakan.
“We all started there.” Trygve set his glass on the table. “Thanks, Freda. That hit the spot. I’m ready when you are.”
“I’ll call and talk with Miss Hastings.”
“Takk.” When Haakan started down the steps, Trygve reached around the post and handed him his cane. “You better use this. I don’t want them coming after me.”
Haakan rolled his eyes but took the cane.
Ingeborg thanked Trygve and sent them on their way, being careful to watch Haakan so he did not realize she was doing so. Her “mothering,” as he called it, was not appreciated.
Turning back to the kitchen, she picked the earpiece off the oaken box on the wall, asked Gerald to ring the hospital, and smiled to herself both inside and out. Haakan would say she was matchmaking again. So what was wrong with that?
“Hello, Deborah, could I possibly speak with Nurse Hastings if she is available?”
“Of course. She is just getting ready to leave.”
“And who is working the next shift?”
“Nurse Wells. I am so thankful for our student nurses. Ah, Ingeborg, we are so blessed.”
“Indeed we are.” Ingeborg heard the thump of Manny’s crutches and the slam of the screen door.
“This is Nurse Hastings. How may I help you?”
“This is Ingeborg Bjorklund, and I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course. How can I help you?”
“Trygve is walking in with Haakan to get the mail. I was wondering if you would like to walk back with them and come for supper. I would like your opinion on how Haakan is progressing. You know, we make sure someone is always with him, but he is chafing against that lately, and I asked him to go in for a checkup. . . . Well, you can guess his reaction.”
Miriam chuckled. “Thank you. Of course I will do that. Let me tell Dr. Bjorklund what we are planning, since her mother-in-law is so generous to feed us all the time.”
“Thank you. I look forward to your observations.”
“Is there anything specific you are looking for?”
“Pace, breathing, things like that. I am hoping they will go have a soda. Haakan does love a soda.”
“Don’t we all?”
Ingeborg hung up and turned to share a secret look with Freda. Plotting could be a pleasure at times. “You want to bet that they will return with Inga swinging her grandpa’s hand and making him laugh?”
“Haakan needs to laugh more.”
“What is it you wanted me to do?” Manny perched on the tall stool they had moved into the kitchen for him.
“You can scrub the potatoes and peel the eggs I boiled a while ago.”
“Women’s work again,” he mumbled under his breath.
Ingeborg shrugged. “To eat, you have to work, and since you can’t milk cows yet or weed the garden or . . .” Her eyebrows went up along with her comment.
Manny smacked an egg on the table in front of him, but she knew he wasn’t really pouting. It was as if he needed to make sure he knew better but was being forced to do women’s work. And yet he had asked. Ingeborg shook her head slowly. There was never a dull moment, that was for sure. And once Inga got here, dull ran for cover.
“How come some eggs are white and some are brown?”
“Two different breeds of chickens.”
“They taste the same.”
“Yes. The difference is only on the shell. If you want to scrub the potatoes out back, I’ll bring out the bucket.”
He scooped the shells into a bowl to dump in the bucket kept for the chickens. “How come you feed the eggshells back to them?”
“Some people say it makes the hens eat the eggs, but we’ve not found that. They need the calcium to make more shells. I read once that people who live by the sea feed their chickens ground-up oyster shells to help them produce stronger shells.”
“What are oysters?”
“A kind of shellfish. You find them attached to the rocks on the seacoast. I think they are best fried. Or smoked.”
Freda was finishing up the gravy when they heard Inga calling “Grandma!” and the dog barking a welcome. She pounded up the steps and threw herself into Ingeborg’s arms.
“Good thing I am sitting down. Where are the others?”
“They are coming, but I needed to see you.” Inga paused and lowered her voice. “Do you know Grandpa goes slower than he used to?”
“I know, but he is getting stronger.”
“I sure hope so.” She hugged Ingeborg again, her topics changing as fast as her words flew. “Miss Hastings is a nurse, and she came too. She said you invited her.”
“I did.”
“She has lots of brothers and sisters, but she is the oldest, and they live in a big city called Chicago, and she is learning to be a nurse. But it seems to me she already knows lots about being a nurse because she is at our hospital and taking care of our patients.” She paused to suck in a lightning-fast breath. “And—”
Ingeborg laid her finger lightly on Inga’s grinning mouth. “And you asked her a million questions?”
The little girl frowned at her. “How else can I learn anything? And besides, she said her littlest sister is only eight, and she goes to school too.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I can’t remember her name. Joy, Mercy, humph. Oh, maybe she is the one called Truth. Aren’t those the bestest names?” She hugged Ingeborg tight. “Maybe they could move out here so Miss Hastings wouldn’t miss them so much.” She threw her grandmother a calculating look. “Your house isn’t big enough for all of them, but you would take good care of them like you do Manny and me and Emmy.” She threw her arms wide. “And everybody!” With that she tore down the steps again and ran back to the others.
Ingeborg glanced over at Manny, who wore an openmouthed-shock look. He caught Ingeborg’s gaze and shook his head. “I never heard anyone talk so fast in my whole life.”
Ingeborg’s grin swelled to a chuckle, and the two laughed together, bringing Freda to the door. “What am I missing out here? Those potatoes done?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed a small one and handed her the full bowl. “You don’t need to cook them, ya know.” He bit the crispy new potato in half and crunched away.
Freda shook her head and swapped a shrug with Ingeborg, who really agreed with Manny. New potatoes—well, even older ones—did taste good raw, just like carrots and turnips and rutabagas. Only beets were better cooked than raw.
Inga returned, riding on Trygve’s shoulders. He bent over at the steps to let her dismount onto the porch. “You know, you are getting a bit too big for that anymore.” He flexed his shoulders, then tweaked her nose.
“I like seeing so far. You’re a good horsey.” She spun around to confront Haakan, who had folded down into his favorite rocking chair. “You ever thought about getting a pony for your grandchildren?” Hands on hips, she wrinkled her brow. “Or maybe two, so Carl and I can ride together? I saw a picture in a book where kids were riding. They had saddles even. Why would you need a saddle to ride?”
Miriam smiled at Inga. “I saw children riding ponies in a park in Chicago. And grown-ups riding real horses too. They had fancy clothes and hats and boots, and they looked quite grand.”
“When Manny gets his leg all better, he can come out to the fields and ride the workhorses in. They like kids.”
“How do you know they like you?” Manny asked.
“They snuffle your hair and check your pockets for carrots. They like sugar lumps too.”
Manny gave her an I-don’t-believe-you-for-one-minute look.
Inga shrugged. “You’ll just have to see. Carl and I do that lots.”
Freda came to the screen door. “Supper is all set up at the table. Inga, go wash your hands.”
“But I didn’t play in the dirt, not at all.”
Trygve swooped her up and carried her into the kitchen, giggling away. The others followed, with Miriam and Ingeborg at the rear.
Miriam whispered, “Your husband did well, but I think the heat is harder than the walking. You can tell he does not like taking it easy.”
“So true.”
“But Inga is so good for him. She makes him laugh and forget we are walking slower than normal.”
“Thank you.” Ingeborg glanced up to catch Trygve watching Miriam, waiting to pull out her chair. Besotted. Definitely beyond smitten. Did he know the difficulty he faced? She only planned on getting through this year in the hinterland and then returning to Chicago. More than once in their few talks, the young woman had spoken with longing of her family and her ailing mother. Obviously, her family tugged at her heart far more than could any swain.
Oh, dear Trygve, you have a hard row ahead.