Eight

After the party, Olina settled into life on the Minnesota farm. She gladly helped with her share of the chores. It was good for Gerda and Olina to be together again. It was as if they had never been separated. Gerda helped Olina become a part of the community, and Olina caught Gerda up on what had happened in the old country after the Nilssons left.

Before long, the two girls spent most of their evenings doing needlework as they talked. Gerda took an interest in all the fashionable clothes Olina had brought with her from Europe.

“Stand still, Olina.” Gerda walked around her friend, looking at the darts and flounces on the dark green traveling suit Olina was modeling. “I want to see how she made this.”

“I could take it off.” Olina unbuttoned the suit. “That way we could look at the seams from the inside. The jacket is lined, but the waist and skirt aren’t.” When the coat was completely removed, it revealed a soft creamy cotton waist with a lace-edged, ruffled jabot gracefully draping around Olina’s neck.

Just then, the back door burst open and Gustaf entered, followed by his brother August. Gerda and Olina watched them from the parlor.

“I tell you, Gustaf.” August raised his voice. “You’ll never get him to sell it.”

“What need does he have for a plow horse?” Gustaf sounded disgusted. “That horse will stay in his barn and pasture and never do another day’s work.” He threw his cap on the table, stomped over to the sink, and started washing his hands. “I could use another plow horse.”

August glanced through the door to the parlor and saw the two girls. “Gerda, how are you?” He rushed to his sister, picked her up and twirled her around, then set her on her feet. “It’s been a long time since I saw you.”

Gustaf followed him, drying his hands as he went. “You saw her on Sunday. It’s only Thursday. That’s not a long time.”

He stopped short when he saw Olina. She was standing between him and the window. The sun coming through the pane gave her a gilt edge, turning the soft hairs that had escaped her chignon into a golden halo. The creamy-colored blouse and dark green skirt looked like something from one of the Godey’s Lady’s Books Gerda often received. Olina took his breath away.

It had been like this ever since he talked to Anna. He had felt a freedom from his ties to her, releasing all the pent-up feelings for Olina he had been fighting before.

Sometimes the pain he glimpsed deep in her eyes, when she didn’t know anyone was looking, cut him to the quick. He knew Lars had hurt her, but Gustaf felt that there was even more hurt he didn’t know about. What could it be?

Besides, Olina didn’t ever participate in worship when they were in church. The Sandstrom family and the Nilsson family had been part of the same church in Sweden. Both families fully participated in everything together. During the services now, Olina looked as if she had been turned to stone. If only he could reach across the barriers and ease the pain in her. But how could he do that? He prayed for her every day. He tried to reach out to her in subtle ways.

“Are you men coming in for the evening?” Gerda turned from August to Gustaf.

“We thought we’d sit and talk awhile before August returns to town.” Gustaf lowered himself onto the horsehair sofa. “Do you girls want to visit with us?”

Olina looked at Gerda. “If we want to discover how the seamstress made this suit, maybe we should go up to my room.” She swept out of the parlor and up the stairs without waiting for an answer.

❧

When the two young women reached the bedroom, Olina stepped out of the skirt. She handed the garment to Gerda before also shedding her waist and putting on her dressing gown.

“Look at all the tucks and ruffles she made on this waist.” She knew she was hiding from Gustaf, but she didn’t like the way he unsettled her. The feelings aroused by being near him were at war with the decision she made not to trust a man again. Turning from her musings, she looked into the questioning face of Gerda. “I wonder how long it took her to finish the waist of the suit.”

This question didn’t deter Gerda. “Olina, what’s the matter?”

Olina looked away and picked up the garment she had been talking about.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Gerda stood looking into Olina’s troubled eyes. “I don’t think anyone else has noticed. But I’ve known you too long not to see that something more is wrong.”

Olina crumpled onto the side of the bed. Gerda sat beside Olina and pulled her into her arms. How could she comfort her? She didn’t even know exactly what was wrong.

“You can tell me what it is. I’ll keep your secret.” The whispered words went to Olina’s heart. “Sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Someone who knows everything. You know that nothing you could tell me would ever change the way I feel about you. We’re too good of friends for that, ja?”

Olina nodded as she raised her head from her friend’s shoulder. “I have been carrying this a long time, and it has become an unbearable burden. . . . But I don’t know where to begin.”

“Since I know about Lars”—Gerda reached up to brush back the hair that had fallen across Olina’s forehead—“why not tell me what else is bothering you?”

Olina stood and walked across the room. She stood at the window and pulled back the filmy curtains. Dusk was falling on the farm, wrapping all the buildings and trees in shadows. She stared into the shifting darkness.

“It’s hard to tell you that my own father doesn’t love me.”

Gerda’s quickly indrawn breath preceded her question. “How can you say that? Your family has always been close.”

“I thought so.” Olina looked toward the sky to see the first twinklings of starlight. “But you know that father was always stern. He’s a very controlling man.”

Gerda stood and crossed the room to stand beside her. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

Olina turned and gazed into her friend’s face. “He disowned me when I chose to come to America and marry Lars.”

Gerda stood speechless. Olina could see that she was trying to digest what she had just heard. “Disowned you? What do you mean?”

“He told me that I was no longer a part of the family. . .that I was to have no contact with anyone in my family.” She started pacing back and forth across the bedroom, before returning to stand beside the window.

“What about your mother and your brothers?” Gerda demanded.

“They could say nothing. Father was in a high temper. I think he thought I would change my mind, but I couldn’t. Lars and I were so in love.” Olina finished on a sob, dropping to the floor. She crossed her arms on the windowsill and placed her chin on her hands. “At least I was in love with him,” she wailed.

Gerda dropped beside Olina and once again held her in her arms. “Your father will change his mind.”

Olina looked up. “That’s what Tant Olga said. She said he’d change his mind when we had his grandchildren. But now that will never happen.” Olina felt completely drained. “How could God have allowed all this?”

The question hung in the air between the two young women. A question without an answer.

Gerda got up and started picking up the clothing they had dropped at various places around the room. “Olina, didn’t you write your father a letter right after you arrived?”

Olina nodded. “I told him what happened, and I asked him to send me the money to come home. I told him I would work and pay back every cent as soon as I could.”

“Well, see. Everything will be all right. He’ll send you the money.” Gerda folded the skirt and laid it across the end of the bed.

Olina stood and picked up the crumpled waist from where the two girls had sat on it. Smoothing out the wrinkles the best she could, she put it beside the skirt. “But what if he doesn’t? What will I do then?” She turned a forlorn face toward her friend.

Gerda took Olina by the shoulders. “He will. He has to.” She let go and picked up the jacket. “But if he doesn’t, you’ll stay right here.”

“I can’t stay here. I would be a burden to your family.”

“A burden? I don’t think so.” Gerda turned the jacket wrong side out. “You’ve been doing your part. Besides that, maybe we could move to town together and become seamstresses. We’re both good at making quality clothing. The only ready-made clothing at the mercantile has to be ordered from other places, and they never fit right. We could probably make a good living as seamstresses. The only way Father will let me move to town is if I have someone to live with. It would work out well for both of us.” Gerda smiled at Olina. “Besides, it won’t come to that. You’ll be going home before you know it. So let’s do all we can to learn how she made your lovely clothes. Jaha?”