The hugs—no one gave just one—kept coming as her remaining family poured out of the small homestead cabin. Letters cheered her up, but to be with them now filled an emptiness she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Mama opened her arms and Maila fell into them, inhaling the aroma of rye bread. Oh, how she’d missed Mama’s baking.
“Och, but it’s good you’re home. You’ll stay now, ja?” Mama held Maila’s cheeks with both hands and smiled into her daughter’s eyes.
Conscious of Burton nearby, Maila chose to answer her mother’s Swedish with muffled English through squished cheeks and puckered fish lips. “Mama, I have a job.”
“You’re needed here.” Mama patted Maila’s face before releasing her. “You can work at the new hospital when everyone is well, if Burton can manage the store. They need nurses.”
Needed. Everything hinged on being needed, not wanted. She could work at the Kirkbride, Fergus Falls State Hospital. Overcrowded conditions treating the mentally ill, though honorable and needed, wasn’t the kind of nursing she wanted to do. “In Saint Paul, I travel a home care route. I prefer rehabilitating patients from injuries and illnesses.” Work inside the sterile walls of a facility? It’d be especially tough since it wasn’t completed. Construction went on in one wing while treating patients in the other. Who knew how long it would take? “Mama, I enjoy my work. I don’t think I’m ready to move back yet. But I’m here to help now.”
“You’ll stay now.”
“I—” No, not my first day home. “Let’s enjoy being together today, Mama.” Biting back further defense, Maila put an arm around her mother’s waist and walked with her toward the small house. “How are Randa and her little ones? I should look in on them.”
“The fevers have broken, but they ache all over.”
“Any sign of pneumonia?”
Her mother’s nose reddened. Tears glossed her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to lose one of those precious children or their mama.”
But you could do without me for nine years. Maila gritted her teeth then blew lightly between them, releasing pent-up pressure. “Mama, I’ll do my best, but prayers are more important. I’m a nurse, not God.”
“Ja. I know.” She led Maila to the cramped bedroom. “But Gud has brought you home to hjälpa.”
After examining her sister, niece, and nephew, Maila left them sipping on chicken broth Mama brought in on a tray. “Krya på dig,” Maila said before closing the bedroom door. She laid her hand against the white wood and leaned into it, eyes closed. “God, please do help them get well soon.”
“He will,” Burton’s low baritone responded.
Maila popped her eyes open and turned. This sense of faith from the man who’d lost two loved ones? She tipped her head back, looking into his compassionate face. “I hope so.”
He scrunched his brows and scrutinized Maila’s eyes closely. “They’re not blue!”
“What?”
“Your eyes. They’re…hazel?”
She giggled. “Yes? This is a surprise?”
He didn’t stop staring. “They’re…lovely.”
“Um,” Maila dropped her chin to her chest. “Thank you.” When had she last received a genuine compliment like that? Benjamin complimented her hair. Such thick brown hair. He’d asked her to take it down once to see the full length. But no one had ever used the word lovely about any part of Maila Holmes. Rooted like trees, her legs wouldn’t move. So why did it feel like squirrels raced up her spine?
“What’s this, you two blocking up the hall?” Mama said in Swedish as she pushed between them, hands full of bowls and spoons. She stopped, looked up into Burton’s face, and then swiveled to peruse Maila’s.
A flush crept over Maila under her mother’s inspection. “Nothing, Mama.” She switched to English. “Burton came to see if we needed anything.”
Her mother’s eyes squinted and she slanted her head ever so slightly. She took one longer look between the two before saying, “Ja, come eat now.”
Maila skirted Burton on her way to the table. She could feel his gaze following her movements. That little squirrel wreaked havoc in her rib cage.
The entire family of cousins, aunts, and uncles from the area, minus the three flu victims, gathered for the noon meal around the long plank table, with shoulders and elbows bumping. Down so many, yet twelve souls remained to banter at mealtimes on special occasions. Burton would miss this if he sold the store.
“I think they’re on the road to recovery,” Maila informed everyone. “Randa and Inga have some color returning and little James’s coughing is not nearly as deep as I expected. I believe they’re already past the danger.”
Randa’s husband, George, spoke with a pained expression. “I won’t lose my wife? My children?” Thick emotion clogged his words.
Maila placed a hand on his wrist in the tight space. “No. I don’t think so. I’m not seeing any signs of pneumonia.” She looked into his eyes. “They’re getting Mama’s chicken soup down. With rest and fluids, all should be well.”
“Thank you, Maila. I’ve expected… I—” George closed his eyes and wiped a hand over them.
Mama Holmes bowed her head and thankfully said the prayer in words Burton understood. “We’ve lost enough. Nej, not one more, dear Lord. You’ve asked so many of mine family already.” The family followed her lead for both a prayer of mercy and a blessing over their chicken soup and fresh bread.
“Mama Holmes.” Burton picked up his spoon. “I can leave Maila here to care for them. She has her things in the sleigh.”
Mama Holmes brightened at his words. “Ja, this is best.” Her head bobbed.
George looked up from his bowl. “Will you be able to stay long, Maila?”
She swallowed the hot broth. “I took a month’s leave.”
“Nej, Maila. You will stay now. No more working so far away.”
Spoons clinked on dishes like cymbals clashing amid the recent losses. No one would argue with Mama Holmes—except Maila.
Burton discreetly looked around the table. The only set of eyes not focused on a bowl, other than Mama Holmes and Maila, belonged to himself. He wanted to say something to ease the tension, but what?
Maila set her spoon down with a thunk. “I have a job and commitments, Mama.”
Mama Holmes’s eyes narrowed. “Family is commitment, and more important. We must care for one another now we have lost so many.”
“I will do what I can until I must go back.”
“I do not ask you to visit.” Mama Holmes’s voice rose. “I ask you to komma hem, Maila. Du behövsf!”
What in the world did “du behövs” mean? Burton closed his eyes. English!
“I know I’m needed, Mama,” Maila said quietly. “I’m willing to help in whatever way our family has need. But no one is ill enough to need a nurse.”
Ah, needed. That’s what those words meant. He shook his head as the argument escalated. The first day home and the two women were already at odds. But did this tinder and spark need to happen in the midst of heavy family grief? The coming month would be atrocious if mother and daughter locked antlers and couldn’t manage to get along in the same house.
Burton held up a hand. “Ladies, please.” But the two paid him no heed. The words flew in Swedish until he brought his hand down sharply on the table. The clatter of dishes caught everyone’s attention.
“I believe we need to have that family meeting right now.” Burton righted the saltshaker then straightened his fork and knife.
“You’re forgetting my family is resting.” George jumped in to support Burton while avoiding Mama Holmes’s shocked stare. “We must all talk civilly.”
Both ladies blanched.
Burton continued. “I’ve been thinking about our dilemma. We have a shortage of hands to do all the work both on the farm and in the store.”
Several set down their silver, a few leaned back in their chairs, and Maila sent a grateful smile his way.
“What suggestions do you have?” Mama Holmes asked.
“I have stock still in boxes because I’ve been coming out to the farm the last week and”—he swallowed—“because we’ve buried family.” The entire table crossed themselves. “I need help stocking the store and assisting customers. If someone worked in the store for me, I could help more on the farm with the heavy work of calving, preparing equipment for planting, and the like.” And a little time away from it would help me decide whether to sell or not.
George tapped his fingers on the table as he listened. Then he offered, “We could send Randa when she’s well. The children are good and can play quietly in the sitting room.”
Burton wrinkled his brow. “Well, that could work.” He turned to Maila and tried to warn her by widening his eyes. Would she catch his subtle hint? “How long will it take for Randa and the children to recover?”
Maila gave Burton a sideways look. “They’re already getting better. They’ll be weak for a bit. Nothing a bit more sleep and broth can’t handle. Once Randa’s feeling up to it, I think she’d do well to help here. She could rest when she wearies.”
George rubbed his chin. “She must recover fully. I won’t risk her health.”
Burton let out the breath he’d been holding.
“What can we do then?” Mama Holmes joined the discussion. “We need every able body working, or the farm will fail. Papa has been gone only a year. We need good, strong men.”
“If Randa and the children are recovering, what if Maila stayed at the store and Burton worked the farm?” Lars suggested. “It’s the muscle we need in the fields.”
Burton held back the grin and pasted a serious expression on his face. He needed to put the power of decision in the two women’s laps. Let them think they have to convince me. “I’m not sure about that. Maila has been away at college and nursing. What does she know about running a store?”
“Excuse me?” Maila’s indignant tone almost made Burton laugh. “You don’t think I’m capable?”
Mama Holmes dove in to the conversation with a shaking finger. “My Maila can do anyt’ing she sets her mind to, ja? Ja!” She folded her arms. Something Burton noticed she did when no one would sway her. “You chust be here to work, young man, and my girl will do her part. You take her back tonight and show what must be done.”
He held both hands up in surrender. “If you all think it’s the right thing to do…”
A chorus of agreement supported Mama Holmes’s decision. Even Maila agreed as she raised one brown eyebrow in challenge.
If he hadn’t intended the conversation to go this direction, the battle flaring in Maila’s eyes might start a tremor in Burton’s blood. But instead, triumph surged through his veins. The Civil War would not have a repeat in this household if he could circumvent the adversaries. Though judging from Maila’s icy glare, he might have some explaining to do.
On the stoop of the store, Maila whirled on Burton. The chilly drive, in more ways than waning light giving way to a frigid Minnesota evening, hadn’t cooled the fire in her eyes. “What do you think I am—a complete dolt?”
“Maila, calm down and we can talk.” Burton unlocked the door. “I thought—”
“You thought!” She fisted her hands on her hips. “You thought I couldn’t do something as simple as stock shelves? You thought I couldn’t add two plus two?”
“I thought you might like a little distance to make your own decisions,” he shot back at her.
“I’ve been making my own decisions for years. I don’t need you to—” A gasp on the sidewalk nearby caught her attention. Maila closed her eyes and pinched her lips into the finest line, forcing dimples to deepen at the edges of her mouth.
Two ladies quickly crossed to the other side of the street, casting disapproving glances back at Maila and Burton.
Burton held his tongue until the ladies passed out of hearing as he opened the shop door and pulled Maila inside. He closed the shade for privacy. “I thought it was very uncomfortable for you and everyone else this afternoon. I thought it might be better to have an intelligent, healthy woman help in the store rather than argue with her mother for the next month. And for your information, I couldn’t take one more word out of either one of you.”
Maila opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Then her nose and cheeks turned red as tears formed in her beautiful hazel eyes. She left him standing in the narrow aisle without another word.
Morning came all too early. Maila rinsed her face with cold water, dabbing at her puffy eyelids. She descended the back stairs, promising herself to at least try to ease the tension with Burton. She’d have to deal with her mother later in the week when she checked in on Randa’s family. But one thing sank in from the discussion last night—she had to get through the month with some sort of decorum and courtesy.
“Burton?” She walked through the sitting room behind the sales area and looked around the small store then unlocked the front door and peered up and down the street. She wandered back down the aisle, puzzled. Then she picked up a paper that must have blown off the glass counter onto the wood floor.
Maila, gone to the farm. Please see the price list under the cash register to stock the shelves and assist customers. The ledger and customer cards are filed in the cabinet below it as well. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back before closing. Sincerely, Burton.
Oh dear. Maila scrunched her nose. Her mouth had run off with her senses again like a colt with no fence. The family wouldn’t survive without each member pulling their weight, and she hadn’t given Burton the chance to familiarize her with the store.
The bell jangled and a crisp breeze blew Maila’s brown woolen skirt around her ankles. She whispered a quick prayer for help and turned to greet the customer.
“How may I help you?”
“Where’s Mr. Rutherford?” the stout lady inquired.
“He’s assisting at the farm for the next little bit. I’m Maila Holmes, his…uh…” What was she now? Assistant? Clerk? She really didn’t have a title.
“Oh, the young lady I heard about.” She looked perplexed. “I’d heard Mr. Rutherford brought someone—in. Is your husband with you?”
Odd question, but if it helped the lady feel comfortable getting to know her, then Maila would oblige her with an answer. “No, ma’am. I’m not married.” She smiled as she thought of Benjamin. “But I hope to be soon.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
The woman seemed quite out of sorts. Probably another family stricken by the epidemic. Maila smiled, hoping to ease her stress. “Yes, I’ll be helping in the store for a few weeks before going back to Saint Paul.”
“Ah, I see. Yes, well…” She avoided Maila’s eyes. “Here’s my grocery list.” The lady looked around at the shelves. “Could you fill it for me while I run a few other errands?”
“My pleasure.” Maila’s belly twinged. How would she get the chore done? Half the shelves were empty.
She could see the distrust and dilemma in the customer’s eyes. “On second thought, I’m not sure.” She reached out to reclaim her list.
“Ma’am, please don’t worry. There’s plenty of stock in back yet. If you’ll give me a few extra minutes, I’ll do my very best for you.” At the woman’s hesitant nod, Maila asked, “Do you have an account?”
“Yes, please put it on the Wright account.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wright. I’ll do that.”
Once Mrs. Wright left, Maila rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension. She knew where to find the billing ledgers. Now to see what on the list could be filled from the visible supplies before tackling the challenge of unmarked crates.
By the end of the day, not only had Maila filled several orders and filed the account cards, she’d sorted through and found several items to restock the displays. She’d also come to the conclusion that Burton could be right. Working here would help her family, minimize arguments with her mother, and keep Burton’s business open. I can do this. She hummed the tune to “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain” as she faced peach cans from a stepstool.
“Haven’t you been busy today?”
Maila startled at Burton’s rich baritone, flipping cans out of the pouch she’d fashioned with her apron. They tumbled to the floor, rolling as fast as her blood pumped. She backed off the stepstool and took several deep breaths. Why did the sound of Burton’s voice unsettle her so?
“You’re really going to have to be more careful with the inventory. The dents can cause pinholes and ruin the product.”
And irritate her, too! Maila clamped her teeth together. I will not smart off. I will not smart off. “Oh, really? Perhaps you’d like to let a body know when you’ve entered the building.” Fine. I will not smart off tomorrow. “How did you sneak up on me, anyway?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. I came in the back so I wouldn’t track snow and mud through the store.” Burton wiggled stocking-covered toes at her. “I sweep the store each day, but there’s no need for extra mess. When I come from the fields, I leave my shoes and coat in the mudroom.”
Maila almost laughed at him standing in the middle of the shop with no shoes and a little toe peeping out of a small hole in his sock. “I see.” She arched a brow and pointedly looked at his feet. “Then do you parade around in front of customers without shoes?”
“Of course not. I accidently left my indoor shoes behind the counter when I had to hurry and close up to get you from the train the other day. I forgot to move them with all the, shall we say, hubbub?”
“Oh.” Brilliant conversation, Maila. Spit it out. Tell him you’re sorry. “I’m—”
“You have a letter.” Burton held out an envelope.
“A letter?” She took the letter and flipped it over to see the sender’s address. “Already?” Benjamin! Then she squealed and hugged it to her heart. The pretty stationery she’d picked up at Smith’s Books would come in handy tonight.
Burton snagged his clean shoes and sat on the bench near the front door to put them on. “That must be some news.”
“My friend must have received my message.” Maila looked over at his cloudy face. What was bothering him? Then she doused her grin. Poor Burton. His wife must be weighing on his mind. “I’m sorry. You’re not likely up for this kind of thing yet.”
“I’m fine.”
Maila set the mail down. “I know you’re trying to help the family. I will work on being more courteous from now on.” There. That was a pretty good olive branch.
“Maila, I only want all of us to work together the best we can under the circumstances.”
“I know that now. I hope you’ll be more comfortable with me from here on out.”
Burton stifled a yawn. “We’ll be fine.”
Maila closed up the cash register’s storage cupboard. “We haven’t figured out who should do what around here.”
“Who should do what?”
The door jangled as Maila answered. “Housekeeping duties, dinner—”
Mrs. Anderson stood in the open doorway with a loaf of bread in her hands. “Maybe this will help you two.” She walked the few feet to Burton and handed over her gift. “I made bread today. This loaf is fresh. I thought I could maybe take a little bit off my account with barter?”
Burton accepted the bread. “This will do very nicely, Mrs. Anderson. We were just discussing what to do about dinner with the long day we’ve both had.”
She smiled, but her eyes darted between them. “I’m glad I could help. And thank you. My boy is recovering well.”
Burton stood from the bench and held the door for her to leave. “Your bread is the best I’ve ever eaten. We’ll enjoy it mightily.” Once he closed the door behind Mrs. Anderson, he reversed the sign, officially ending the day’s duties. The exhaustion showed in his slow movements. “How about I fix us a couple of eggs and a little of this bread for dinner?”
“How about we do that together?” Maila sent him a soft smile. “I can make delicious scrambled eggs.”
“Sounds like we’ve struck a deal.”