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FRU BRÜNLEE did come to Sunday dinner the next day. Søren introduced Amalie to their neighbor before church began and, at a nudge from Amalie, offered the dinner invitation, which the woman accepted. In spite of the language barrier, Amalie also, in her own inimitable way, appropriated their neighbor’s company during the service.
As was their routine, Jan sat at one end of a pew with a row of Thoresen children between himself and Amalie. What was not usual was the presence of Fru Brünlee sandwiched between the children and Amalie. Even with the children as a buffer, he could hear her clear voice during the singing.
As it lifted sweetly, Jan paused and listened. Something hopeful and vibrant clung to her voice, but perhaps something sorrowful at the same time.
Jacob’s message that morning was powerful, and Jan sensed the Holy Spirit working through it. His sermon ended with these words: “Pray with me now: Lord Jesus, I ask you to forgive me and receive me as one of your lost sheep. I turn away from other gods, other desires, other paths. I will follow you. I will listen for your voice and live for you. Thank you for dying for my sins! Amen.”
The Thoresens filed out, but Fru Brünlee remained seated, lost in prayer.
When she finally emerged from the church house, the Thoresens and McKennies gathered around her, hugging and exclaiming in joy.
“You’re born-again now, Miss Rose. Praise God for his lovingkindness—we’re seein’ it all over your face. Sure an’ it’s like glory in your eyes,” Fiona said with tears.
Fru Brünlee didn’t answer, but she hugged Fiona, she hugged Brian and Meg. Amalie squeezed her enthusiastically and Søren shook her hand. Sigrün simply smiled at her.
Jan stood a little to the side. His heart was happy for what had occurred, but he had no English words to convey his good will.
“I do not know what to say,” Mrs. Brownlee finally managed. “I never knew God was so . . . so . . .”
Jan shook her hand. All he could manage in English was, “God is gud, ja?”
—
SUNDAY DINNER WAS PLEASANT and, as on every Sunday, Jan led a discussion of the pastor’s message. He was mildly surprised at how engrossed Fru Brünlee became as Søren translated the conversation.
So! She has a new heart, now, Lord. She will be hungry for your word, eh? Jan mused as he, Søren, and the boys left the table for their chores.
“I think it will rain soon, Pappa,” Søren predicted. They both studied the dark clouds moving toward them.
“Ja, I agree. I will have the boys bring the cows in early.” Jan stopped and turned back. “Fru Brünlee has never seen a real farm, eh? Do you think she would like to see the milking?”
Søren shrugged. “I don’t know. I will ask her.”
Søren returned shortly with their neighbor. That she was delighted and curious was evident: Her head swiveled back and forth, and her eyes tried to take in everything—and she had many questions. Jan chuckled over her enthusiasm. She seemed to be particularly enthralled with the goats, so he milked one and offered her a cup of the warm, frothing milk.
And planted his foot in his mouth.
“Make fat.” Jan nodded at Mrs. Brownlee’s thin waistline.
Her gray eyes narrowed. “Thank you for the milk,” she replied politely. She rinsed and hung the cup on its hook and walked away.
Jan shrugged. “A temper that one has,” he huffed to no one in particular.
An hour later he saw that the rain Søren predicted was not far off. He went in search of his sønn. “Please tell Fru Brünlee that you will drive her home so that she does not get soaked in the rain that is almost here, eh? We can keep her horse and buggy overnight.”
Søren repeated Jan’s words, but Mrs. Brownlee flatly refused. “Tell your father thank you, but I was just about to leave, and I can handle getting a little wet. I had better go and say goodbye to Mrs. Thoresen.” Her annoyance was scarcely hidden.
Søren shrugged at his father and Jan shook his head.
She is stubborn, too! Jan added to his inventory of their neighbor. He and Søren followed her into the house.
After Fru Brünlee thanked Amalie for dinner—thanks that took many minutes and apparently had to include praise for their home, their kitchen, Amalie’s dishes, and the fine meal—and after the exchange of embraces, she leveled her gray eyes on Søren and Jan. “Will I be seeing both of you tomorrow?”
“Yes, you can count on us,” Søren answered.
Jan, convinced a wise man should keep his mouth closed, shook her hand silently.
He and Søren watched Mrs. Brownlee drive down the road. Within moments the rain was pouring, and her buggy was soon lost in the mist.
“Well, she is soaked now,” Søren observed. He and Jan exchanged bemused looks and both of them shrugged their shoulders.
“I don’t think I understand women,” Søren muttered.
His father just snorted.
—
JAN AND SØREN, TOTING their tools and lunch pail, returned to work on Mrs. Brownlee’s house Monday morning. The night’s heavy rain had leaked through the roof, so they stripped off the old shingles and rotted boards, tossing them to the ground below.
Fru Brünlee did not waste her time while they labored, Jan observed as she heated water outside and scrubbed her clothes. I doubt she has ever done her own laundry either, he opined, recalling her soft handshake.
By the time her washing was on the line, the men were cutting and nailing down new lumber on the roof. At the end of the day Jan was satisfied with their accomplishments. Søren informed their neighbor that they would return to shingle the roof in the morning.
—
THE LIST OF IMPROVEMENTS was shrinking, and Jan’s concern was lessening. He and Søren were surprised to see Brian McKennie pull up in his wagon, his mule tied to the back.
“Good day t’ ye!” Brian called. Brian and Jan shook hands. “’Tis plowin’ Miss Rose’s garden t’day I will,” Brian informed them. “My Fiona will b’ teaching her th’ plantin’ on the morrow.”
Jan nodded and looked at Abigael’s old garden. Neglected for going on two years, the plot was overgrown with prairie grass. While Jan and Søren worked inside, Brian would have his hands full plowing and clearing the garden by himself.
Jan and Søren worked steadily, finishing the walls and starting the shelves and cupboards for Fru Brünlee’s cooking area. Søren ran in and out of the house fetching materials for Jan.
“She’s following Brian, breaking up clods,” Søren reported with a snicker.
“Eh?” Jan was engrossed in cabinetry making.
“And I bet she’s never walked in dirt in her life!” Søren added, laughing.
At lunch time the four of them relaxed under the cottonwoods along the creek bank. At least the men did. Fru Brünlee sipped water. Jan could see she was already exhausted—and yet was eating nothing! He arched his brows at Brian but kept his opinions to himself.
I won’t make that mistake again, he vowed. He still had the indelible image in his mind of her driving away, back ramrod straight, in the drenching rain.
Brian finished the plowing soon after lunch, loaded his plow into the wagon, and headed home. An hour later Jan felt compelled to check on his neighbor.
He discovered her curled on the prairie grass, sound asleep. Her hair, usually so tidy, had fallen out of its pins. Pieces of grass stuck out of her loose braid.
I wonder if she knows ants are crawling on her dress? Jan chuckled to himself.
He looked over the garden plot. Brian had plowed less than half of what Abigael usually planted, but what he had turned over would produce more than enough food for one person. Fru Brünlee, however, had cleared only about half of the plowed area.
Jan realized his neighbor had awakened and was trying discreetly to tidy her hair. He nodded but didn’t say anything to her as she straightened her back, wincing in pain. Instead, Jan called to Søren in the house.
Jan pointed to the garden. “We should help her finish this, eh? Otherwise, I don’t think she will be ready tomorrow when Fru McKennie comes to help her plant it.”
Søren smiled and called to her, “Well, Mrs. Brownlee, would you like some help ‘bustin’ sod’? The three of us can get it done before chore time.”
Their neighbor looked relieved and thanked him. “I really would appreciate it—and I’ll pay you, of course.”
Jan shook his head emphatically. “No,” Søren replied. “For the carpentry you can pay, but not for just being neighborly.” Jan saw her thinking on Søren’s words, her brows puckered.
Jan and Søren worked quickly, shaking and removing the clumps of prairie grass and leaving the dirt in the garden spot. They hoed, broke up the clods, and tossed out rocks.
“Take your rake now and level it out,” Søren instructed. They were packing up to leave. “When Mrs. McKennie comes tomorrow, she’ll help you get it planted.”
“Thank you both so much again,” Fru Brünlee responded. She smiled, so Jan and Søren smiled back.
She has a nice smile—in spite of that temper, Jan thought. He whistled as he and Søren hiked across the fields to their barn.
~~**~~
