Nine

When Olina came, the Nilsson family had started speaking Swedish most of the time around Olina so she would not feel left out. Olina asked Gerda to help her learn English, and Gerda was good about helping her. After the second week, she asked the whole family to speak mostly English, so she could learn it. Even if she went back to Sweden, she would be glad she knew the language. Olina was surprised how quickly she picked it up. It wasn’t easy, but when she heard it all the time, it was easier to learn. Now that she had been there nearly two months, only a few Swedish words crept into their conversations.

Gerda and Olina took each of the garments Olina had brought as part of her trousseau and studied it inside and out. They drew diagrams of how each piece was shaped and how the pieces fit together. Then they made new summer dresses from some fabric they had at the farm.

“Moder,” Gerda called out as the two girls came down the stairs carrying one of the new dresses. “Come see what we have for you.” Both girls were excited.

Mrs. Nilsson wiped her hands on her big white apron as she came from the kitchen into the hallway. “Now what could you possibly have for me? No one has been to town today.”

“We wanted to surprise you.” Olina held the dress up by the shoulders. It fell to the floor in a graceful sweep. “Here, try it on.”

Mrs. Nilsson was surprised, but pleased. “All this time I thought you girls were making something pretty for yourselves.”

“We did.” Gerda twirled to show off her new dress. “This is mine.” Balloon sleeves, gathered at the shoulder and tightly cuffed at her wrists, had five rows of tucks running the entire length. Intricate white lace set off the powder blue material with a dainty flower pattern. The dress was full at the bust, but had the new wasp waist that was accented by the full skirt. Yards of material gathered at the waist and swept to dust the floor with a lace trimmed ruffle flounce.

“See, Mrs. Nilsson, we made you one like hers.” Olina held it out to her. “Only in an old rose floral print.”

“I’m too old to wear such frippery.” Mrs. Nilsson couldn’t keep a smile from flitting across her face as she reached for the dress and held it up in front of her.

“You are not.” Gerda hugged her mother. “It’ll look good on you.”

The girls went into the parlor to wait for Mrs. Nilsson to return. Someone had brought in the mail, and it contained a new Godey’s. The two girls pored over the pages while they waited.

“Mrs. Johnson gave me a stack of these magazines that she had collected over the years. I had a good time looking through them. I don’t think the book is as good since Sarah Hale sold it.” Gerda was looking at some of the pictures. “I’m not sure how long I will continue to take it.”

“It does help you keep up with fashion, doesn’t it?”

“Anna has been taking another magazine. It’s called Ladies Home Journal. I’m sure she would let us borrow one to compare them.”

Just then Mrs. Nilsson came in wearing the new dress. “This is wonderful.” She smoothed the fabric over her hips. “You put more lace on mine than you did yours.” Lace lined the tucks on her sleeve and outlined the waspish waist. The delicate rose color of the dress brought out the natural color in her cheeks, making her look younger. “I’m sure you had a hand in this.” She smiled at Olina.

“Gerda helped. And she picked out the fabric for you. It does look good.” Olina had a feeling of accomplishment when she looked at the beautiful picture made by the woman standing before her.

Mrs. Nilsson continued to finger the delicate lace. “When the other women see these dresses and how well they fit, you’ll probably have some asking you to make them a dress.”

That sounded good to Olina. If her father refused to send her the money to come home, maybe she and Gerda could work together.

“What have we here?” Mr. Nilsson’s voice boomed, preceding him from the hallway into the parlor. “Who is this vision of loveliness?” He picked his wife up from behind and twirled her around before setting her feet back on the floor.

“Bennel, behave yourself.” Mrs. Nilsson blushed and patted a hair back in place.

“Where did my Ingrid get this pretty dress? I haven’t seen it before, have I?” His expression told the girls how much he liked the garment.

“No. The girls made it for me as a surprise.”

Mr. Nilsson looked astonished. “I thought you had to try it on several times to check the fit.”

“I did, too. But they made it in secret, and it fits so well.” She turned around so he could see the dress from every angle.

“You girls are good.” Pride tinged his voice. “Very good.”

“Mother,” Gerda interrupted, “we used the last of the lightweight fabric we have here. Maybe Olina and I need to go to town and pick out some more.”

“I could take you,” Gustaf said from the hallway.

His voice startled Olina. When had he come in? She hadn’t heard the door open. She had been too wrapped up in what was going on.

“I’m going to town tomorrow.” Gustaf was drying his hands on a towel from the kitchen, so he had been in the house long enough to wash his hands. “You girls can ride along. How about it?”

“Sure,” Gerda answered before Olina could decline.

Olina knew she should refuse. She had little money. She wanted to keep what little she had in case her father refused to send her the money to go home.

All eyes had turned to her, and she needed to give an answer. It might not hurt to ride along with them. She might have to tell Gerda why she was not spending her money, but she didn’t want the rest of the family to know that Fader had rejected her when she left Sweden. That was one secret she was in no hurry to share.

After supper, the girls were upstairs in Olina’s room looking at more of the drawings they had made. Gerda picked out four of them.

“I want to get fabric to make these four for me.” She pointed out two more of them. “Mother would look good in these. What kind of fabric are you going to buy?”

Olina looked at the floor for a minute. She traced the pattern in the carpet with the toe of her black high-top shoe. “I won’t be buying any.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to spend the money I have left. I might need it.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you some fabric with our order.”

“I couldn’t take it.” Olina looked up at her friend. “Besides, I have all these new clothes I brought with me.”

❧

Soon after breakfast, Gustaf pulled the wagon to the front of the house. The day was fresh and new as the girls stepped out into the brisk morning air. The sun had come up, and the rooster was still occasionally crowing as he pranced across the yard.

When they reached the wagon, Olina was trying to figure out how she could get up without Gustaf touching her. Then he placed his hands on her waist and swung her effortlessly across the wagon wheel. In the blink of an eye, she was sitting on the bench seat beside Gerda.

Gustaf walked around the front of the wagon. He stopped by each horse and gave it a bite of something he had in his pocket. Olina watched him, all the while still feeling where the heat of his hands had touched her. Her skin burned, and her stomach was in turmoil. This was going to be a long day.

“You haven’t been to town, except to go to church, have you, Olina?” Gustaf’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“No, not since the day I arrived,” she whispered.

“How long have you been here?” Gustaf picked up the reins and clicked his tongue to start the horses.

Was the man going to ask her questions all the way to town? “It’s been about two months, hasn’t it?” she said.

Gerda looked at Olina and must have noticed how uncomfortable she was, because she changed the subject. “Gustaf, we haven’t seen Anna since the night of the party. And you have not gone over to the Jensons’, have you?”

Gustaf’s face seemed to close up. “No,” he grunted.

“I’m not trying to make you mad.” Gerda looked frustrated. “I was just wondering.”

Gustaf heaved a gigantic sigh. “Well, wonder no longer, Little Sister. I have not said anything about it, but Anna and I are not seeing each other any more.”

Why did that unsettle Olina? It shouldn’t make any difference to her, but a small weight lifted from her heart.

When they reached Litchfield, Gustaf took the young women to the mercantile. He needed to get some work done at the blacksmith’s, and he was going by the bank. He promised to return for them in time for the three of them to go to the restaurant at the hotel for lunch.

Gerda pulled Olina along with her as she rushed to see if there were any new bolts of fabric on the shelves. Looking past Gerda, Olina spied several bolts of colorful silk on the shelf beside the cotton bolts.

“Oh, look, Gerda.” She pointed to a color that was neither pink nor lavender. “Isn’t it lovely?”

Gerda reached for the bolt just as Mrs. Braxton came to help them. “Is this new?”

“We have never had silk this color before. They call it mauve. I think the name is French. Would you like me to cut you some?” Mrs. Braxton reached for the scissors under the counter. “We have refinished this counter so it won’t damage the silk.”

Olina smoothed her hand across the wooden counter. “It feels nice. It shouldn’t snag anything.”

Gerda put her finger on her cheek and thought a minute. “I want ten yards of the silk.”

“What are you going to make with it?” Olina fingered the fabric, enjoying the smoothness.

“I want to copy one of the dresses you brought with you, and I think I’ll make a matching bonnet.”

Mrs. Braxton looked at the new dress Gerda was wearing. “Where did you get the pattern for that dress you have on? I like the sleeves. I might want a similar dress myself.”

Gerda waved toward her friend. “Olina brought a lot of new clothes with her. We’ve been studying them. This is the first one we duplicated. Hers was made from a soft, lightweight wool. But it made up really well in this cotton.”

“Do you think you could make one to fit me?” Mrs. Braxton turned around so the girls could study her figure. “You could take measurements today.”

Gerda looked at Olina with a question in her expression. Olina nodded slightly. It would give her something to do until she heard from Fader.

“I think we could manage that.” Gerda turned toward the shop owner’s wife. “What fabric do you want us to use?”

Mrs. Braxton reached up and removed a bolt of emerald green silk. “I want it out of this. If you make it for me, I’ll give each of you enough fabric to make yourself a dress. . . . Or I could pay you instead.”

“I would love to have this sea green silk.” Olina held it against herself. “Would I look good in it?”

Gerda nodded. “And I want this. . .what did you call it?”

“Mauve.”

“Yes, I’ll take the mauve. We each want ten yards.”

Mrs. Braxton began cutting the fabric as Gerda and Olina chose thread, buttons, and lace to trim the dresses. Mrs. Braxton added an extra packet of needles to the order before she wrapped it. Then she took the young women upstairs to her living quarters. They spent an hour visiting with Mrs. Braxton while they measured her for her dress and shared a cup of tea with her. They returned downstairs to buy several pieces of calico and gingham to take home. They had finished getting all the notions they needed when Gustaf came for them.

“Are you ready for lunch?”

When Olina heard his voice, she looked up. For a moment she felt drawn to him. What was she thinking? She didn’t even trust him. She couldn’t risk getting hurt again. All of her pain was still too new. She had tried to deal with it the best she knew how, but she would never risk being hurt like that again.

The three went across the street and entered the dining room of the Excelsior Hotel. It wasn’t as luxurious as the hotel where they had stayed in New York City, but it was nice. During the meal, several people Olina met at the party came by the table to visit with them. Lunch passed rather pleasantly.

Just after they finished dessert, Gustaf reached into his pocket for his money. When he did, something crinkled. “I forgot. I picked this up at the post office when I went in to mail some letters.” He handed a letter with a Swedish postmark to Olina. “It looks as though you have a letter from home. I know you’ll be glad.”

Olina didn’t want to be impolite, but she couldn’t help it. While Gustaf paid the waitress, she tore into the envelope. The thickness of the envelope felt as if the letter would be long and newsy. Instead, the letter she had written home dropped onto the table, unopened. Accompanying it was a short terse note.

The person whose return address is on this envelope is considered dead. The Sandstrom family does not want to receive any more mail from that person.

Olina sat and stared at her father’s signature on the bottom of the note.

❧

Gustaf had turned to say something to Gerda when he heard Olina gasp. As he whipped back around, he saw that every bit of color had drained from her face. Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. Gustaf wanted to shield her from other people, so he got up, gathered the dropped papers from the table, and helped her from the chair. Placing himself between her and the other people in the room, he ushered Olina out the door and through the lobby to the waiting wagon. Gerda followed right behind them.

This time, Gustaf picked Olina up first and put her on the middle of the wagon seat. Gerda could sit on the outside to shield her from curious onlookers. As soon as he was in the wagon, he started the horses toward home. He didn’t stop until they pulled up in front of the house.

No one had said anything on the way home. Olina sat quiet and still. When he helped her down from the wagon, she rushed into the house.

“Go to her, Little Sister. She needs someone.” Gustaf drove the wagon to the barn, praying for Olina all the way.