A Breath of Hope (Under Northern Skies Book #2)

By Lauraine Snelling

Nilda Carlson has been trying to save enough money to go to America for months, so when a letter from Einar and Gerd Strand arrives, offering to pay her ticket, she jumps at the chance. Her younger brother Ivar accompanies her, and they can't wait to join their brother Rune and his family in the northern forests of Minnesota.

Signe and Rune Carlson are thrilled to welcome Nilda and Ivar to America, but life on the farm remains a struggle. Though Gerd has softened and grown to love the Carlson family, Einar is still harsh and unforgiving, obsessed solely with felling as many trees as possible. Rune is trying to build a new home for his wife and children, but Einar refuses to help and forbids anyone from the nearby community from stepping foot on his land. What dark secret must lie in his past to have caused him to isolate himself--and anyone living under his roof--in this way? When a tragedy lays the truth bare, the Carlsons and Strands will have to come together like never before and become a true family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Apr 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781493413577

Lauraine Snelling

Lauraine Snelling has been writing and publishing books across all genres and for all reading levels since 1980. She received a Career Achievement Award for inspirational fiction from RT Books Reviews and has consistently appeared on the Christina Booksellers Association's bestseller lists. She has written over sixty-five books, and a hallmark of her style is writing about real issues within a compelling story. She and her husband, Wayne, reside in California and have two grown sons.

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Chapter

1

Nilda Carlson stared at the money in her hand. This was a week’s pay. Her last week’s pay. I will never, ever be able to save enough money to buy a ticket to Amerika.

Ah, Nilda, her mor, Gunlaug, said softly. Never is a long time. Somehow we will find a way.

Nilda stared out the window at the snow drifting down, the flakes float-dancing, since the wind had given up. Would spring ever come? Each year, winter seemed to take up residence for longer spells. She knew she was being unreasonable. She’d been admonished for that before.

Spring always comes. Our Lord ordained it so. And He has heard your cries. He promised He would always listen and answer.

How many times had she heard that? But hearing and deep-down believing were two entirely different things. As were hearing and answering. Did she believe God heard? Ja, she had to answer ja. But she had already learned that sometimes the answer was yes, sometimes no, and sometimes the hardest to deal with, wait.

I know how hard you worked.

But, Mor, Nilda insisted, the shop is closed. True, Mrs. Rott is too sick and feeble now to keep the store open, and that is a shame, but still, I have no more work. She thought a moment. Perhaps the Nygaards are hiring. I’m sure I would dislike working for them. No one likes working for them. But the money . . . Two of her older brothers had stuck it out until something better came along, and now it seemed to be her turn.

Ja, I know. Gunlaug threw the shuttle on the loom, where she was weaving another rug. When finished with one, she always restrung for the next. Slamming the batten vigorously, she forced each strand tightly into place to make the rugs last longer. This one is for you, you know.

You will have that done long before I can buy a ticket, that is for certain.

Then you will have the first layer in the bottom of the trunk Far and Johann are making for you.

Nilda tightened her fists in the folds of her wool skirt, fabric her mor had woven in years past.

Mor eyed her. I have learned that weaving is a good way to work off despair. Throwing the shuttle and slamming the batten in place are good for one’s soul—and letting loose your feelings.

As is kneading bread. It is nearly time for that. A smile tickled the corners of Nilda’s lips, but she clamped her teeth against it. Mor, you make it hard to stay angry.

Takk, I guess. Eyebrows arched, she looked at her daughter with a nod. And the bread is much lighter for the extra kneading, like a rug is tighter for the extra slamming.

My one day at home, and I’m wasting it fussing like this.

Why don’t you write Onkel Einar a letter and see if he is interested in bringing over another family member to help him?

That is a good idea. I will do that as soon as I knead the bread back down. When you are a shopkeeper, your work just disappears out the door. At least with baking bread, you have something to show for it when you are finished.

For a while, at least. She shook her head at the thought and returned to the kitchen, the slam of the shuttle accompanying her. The fragrance of yeast raising the bread dough permeated the room. Both of these everyday tasks would be needed in Amerika too. After setting the bowl of dough on the stove’s warming shelf, she added more wood and fetched paper and pencil. They were out of ink, and she did not want to spend time making more.

By the time she finished the letter, the dough was crowning the bowl again, ready to form into loaves. Shall we have some of this fried for dinner? she asked her mor.

Ja, that will be a nice treat. Make enough for Ivar for when he comes home from school. He can mail the letter for you in the morning.

I will take it in myself after the bread is finished. Do you need anything from the store?

Need or want?

Nilda nodded. How true. Every winter they ran up a bill at the store and paid it off as soon as spring work brought in more cash. Winters were always sparse.

A couple days later, Ivar burst through the kitchen door just as dusk was bluing the snowbanks. Mor, letters from Amerika!

In here, Gunlaug called from her loom. Sweep off your boots.

I did. Is Nilda home yet?

Nei, but soon. She smiled at her youngest as he, minus his coat, stopped beside her at the loom. You’ll want some wood in that stove. It’s cold in here. She took the letters. Takk. One is from Onkel Einar.

Ivar grinned. I saw that. Wouldn’t it be funny if he is asking for more helpers and Nilda just mailed him a letter? If Nilda goes to Amerika, I will really miss her.

Ja, I will too. Gunlaug blew out a deep sigh.

I will take you there someday, Mor. I will. At least for a visit.

Takk, my son, but . . .

I will take Far too, if he will go.

She patted his hand. You keep dreaming that. Nodding and almost smiling, she threw the shuttle again and slammed the batten with extra force. I better hurry and finish this so I can make one for Rune’s new house.

If Nilda goes, it would be good to send another loom along with her. And a feather bed for Rune and Signe. At least they are no longer sleeping on pallets on the floor. He paused and turned his head slightly to the side so he was not looking directly at his mor. Onkel Einar is not a very nice man, is he. He was not asking a question.

I’m afraid not, but he has not struck anyone—at least as far as we know. Gunlaug stared out the frost-painted window. The frond patterns near the top were winter’s curtains. The intricate design feathered on the glass always made her wish she could weave such a pattern into her rugs.

Ivar asked, Did Nilda get the job at the Nygaards’?

Ja, I think so. She went there this morning and promised to return if she did not get work. We were thinking to clean the kitchen.

Darkness fell, bringing all the family home but for Nilda. Gunlaug set the table and stirred the beans and smoked mutton she’d baked all day. Guilt at wasting wood moved her to use the oven when the cookstove was helping to heat the house. The round stove in the other room was only lit on the coldest days or when she was at the loom, which was most of the time. Even so, she wore gloves with no fingers, a sweater, and a shawl.

The letters in the center of the table were pleading to be read, propped up against the sugar bowl.

You could go ahead and read to us, Thor said with a slight raising of his eyebrows. She might have had to spend the night for some reason.

Nilda would find a way to let us know. Ivar propped his elbows on the table. Wouldn’t she, Mor?

The knock of skis sliding into the rack outside made him jump to his feet and run to throw open the door.

Hurry up, we have letters from Amerika, and Mor won’t read them until you are here.

Coming through the door, Nilda scowled at no one in particular and everything in general. She unwrapped her scarf.

Your supper is in the warming oven. Gunlaug could tell something was bothering Nilda, but she wisely kept her own counsel. As soon as you are seated and eating, I will read. Nilda had been known to eat standing up by the fire when in a hurry.

Gunlaug began:

"Dear Thor and Gunlaug,

I hope all is well with you in Norway. As we get busier here, Gerd and I agree that we need more help, especially since Rune and Signe will be moving into their own house this summer. They told me that your daughter Nilda would like to emigrate to Amerika, so if she still desires to come . . .

Nilda screeched so loudly they must have heard her clear to Valders and threw her hands in the air. I get to go to Amerika! I really do!

Gunlaug rolled her eyes at her husband and returned to the letter. If we could have a chance to hear, I will continue. She paused, looking over the top of the paper at Nilda, who bounced once more in her chair and nodded. Now where was I? Oh, here. ‘I will purchase a ticket for her with the agreement that she will help us here on the farm to reimburse me for the ticket. If you have any other family members who would appreciate starting a new life in Amerika, have them write to me, and we will see what we can work out.’

What about Ivar? You said you wanted to go. Nilda flashed her younger brother a face-splitting grin.

He nodded solemnly. But I do not want to be beholden to Einar. From what Rune and Signe have said, he is a tyrant. I want to be able to leave him and go work for a real logging company. Not that I would, but still. . . .

Surely he can’t be that bad, Nilda said, staring at her brother, who had always been the careful one.

Well, we really do not want Nilda traveling alone. So many horror stories I have heard. Thor stared at his daughter. Something to think about.

Nilda huffed out a sigh, her head slightly wagging.

May I continue? Gunlaug glanced from her daughter to her husband. The last thing she wanted was anger at the dinner table.

Ja, go ahead. Thor still looked upset.

‘The winter has been especially hard this year, but we continue to fell trees as much as the weather allows.’

You think Rune exaggerated the size of the trees? Ivar asked.

Rune is not one to exaggerate. Never had Gunlaug had so many interruptions reading a letter. I think they have not been telling us how bad it has been for them there. She found her place again. ‘Spring will be here one of these days, and travel by ship will be much easier then. If you can plan to leave in mid-May, that would work well. I look forward to hearing from you. Einar and Gerd Strand.’ Gunlaug laid the letter down to be reread later.

I could use another cup of coffee. Thor raised his cup.

Nilda leaped to her feet. After pouring coffee for all who wanted some, she paused. Do we have anything to celebrate with?

Fresh bread with butter and jam. I thought about making a custard but was too busy weaving. Gunlaug looked around at her nodding family. Perhaps tomorrow we can make snow candy. We have syrup.

Nilda fixed everyone a slice of bread and jam. Are the hens still laying?

Not much. Another reason not to make custard.

Mid-May. Nilda set the half slices of bread on a plate to serve. We need to start lists of what can go with us. She paused and stared at Ivar. I have some money saved that we could put toward a ticket for you. Do you have anything saved?

I do, Johann volunteered. You can have that. Mor, can you ask Tante Gretta?

Gunlaug nodded. I will write a letter to them tomorrow. Somehow we will collect enough for Ivar’s ticket. I know we will.

But what if we can’t in time? Nilda sighed again. I have a dream. Onkel Einar offers to pay for my dream. Now I must wait until Ivar can come too. Wait. Wait. Wait. I will never be able to get to Amerika.

Chapter

2

Keeping the house warm was near to impossible, cold as it was outside.

You boys make sure you wrap that horse blanket around you while you are riding and then blanket the horse. Signe watched her two younger sons, Knute and Leif, nod like they had heard her say those words every day for years. She handed them a gunnysack with their dinner pails in it. Good thing Mr. Millhause, the school custodian, always had the school rooms warm before the children arrived. Of course, with school only half days on Saturdays, it hardly seemed worth the effort.

They waved as they went out the door. Three-month-old Kirstin shifted in the sling around Signe’s shoulder, in which she had spent most of her life. While Signe and Gerd had always taken turns wearing the sling, Kirstin was getting too big for the older and much weaker woman to carry, especially while making breakfast.

You sit in that chair and nurse her, and I will fix us something to eat. Tante Gerd brought the chair closer to the stove. You would think she already knows when any mealtime for us comes.

Signe patted the baby through the sling. I think she forgets she has already been fed once. While the baby slept through the night now, she was ready to eat long before dawn cracked the horizon. Signe pulled the coffeepot to the hot part of the stove again and settled into the chair. The gray-furred Gra wrapped herself around Signe’s legs.

Sorry, cat, you will have to wait until the baby is done.

Anytime there is a lap, she thinks she should curl up in it. Gerd paused to take a deep breath. And then another.

Setting the baby to nursing, Signe threw the shawl over her shoulder and the baby. My goodness, but you are a noisy one this morning. She watched Gerd for any other signs of recurring weakness. Did you not sleep well last night?

Gerd stirred the oatmeal before slicing some bread to toast on the stove top. No worse than usual. Einar’s snoring must keep all of you awake.

Nei. We don’t hear him upstairs.

Signe refused to refer to the second story as the attic. After all, her whole family slept up there. At least now they all had beds, a very real improvement over sleeping on pallets on the floor. If she allowed herself to dream, she pictured the house they would build on their own land come summer. She and Rune had to fight with Onkel Einar to force him to follow up on his agreement with them, but it would be worth it. If she furthered the dream, someone from home in Norway would come to live with them or with Tante Gerd and Onkel Einar. She knew for a fact that Einar had written to Rune’s mother about bringing Nilda over; he had asked Rune about Nilda’s work habits. There was certainly enough work around here for another person. Of course, Einar would be overjoyed to have another logger helping him fell the big trees. Not that one would ever be able to tell if Einar was pleased with anything.

Glancing down, Signe realized her daughter had already slipped back to sleep. While she was awake more now, as she should be, she found comfort with a full tummy, snuggled against her mor or Tante Gerd. When she was sitting down, Gerd could still wear the sling.

You ready? At Signe’s nod, Gerd spooned oatmeal into their bowls and pulled a plate of the toast she’d been making from the warming oven. Hands on her hips, she studied the table. Anything else?

Sometimes I feel guilty seeing you work while I am sitting here.

Gerd looked at her like she was losing her mind. After all you did for me? She heaved a sigh. I would not be standing here, working in my kitchen, enjoying that baby, if it weren’t for all your persistent hard work. I will never be able to thank you enough.

Signe stared at Gerd, making sure her chin was not touching her chest. Could this be the same woman who had screamed at her every moment she needed something? Who refused to even try to do things on her own? Who slept all the time? She sniffed back tears of relief—or was it joy? Or gratitude? After all, only God could work miracles like this. Last night she had read in the Bible about being thankful—the hard part—for everything. She would never have said thank you for that Gerd, and now she couldn’t say it often enough. More than one miracle had occurred here, that was certain.

She sniffed again. Takk, tusen takk many times over. Signe resettled the baby and turned to her bowl. Nothing tasted as good on a cold morning as steaming oatmeal. Today is Saturday.

Gerd turned to look at the calendar on the wall. Ja, why?

That means tomorrow is Sunday, and I really want to go to church. The weather is not so bad.

Will you take the baby?

I planned to. She paused. Might it be better to leave Kirstin here? Gerd could feed her with a bottle. I have a better idea. Why don’t you come with us? She was as surprised as Gerd at the spoken thought. This would be their first Sunday at the church, but . . . why did there always have to be a but? She ate a couple bites of toast and took a sip of coffee. Still no answer from the woman across the table, who was staring down at her bowl. We would really be grateful if you came too.

Was that pain in Gerd’s eyes?

Gerd shook her head. I think not. There is too much bitterness for me to go. As she spoke, her head kept moving from side to side.

But this is church.

A church made up of people who have come to despise us. You go and see what it is like, and we shall see.

You know Mrs. Benson and Mrs. Solum. They were friendly and helpful. Signe returned to her oatmeal. When we have Kirstin baptized, I really want you there. I know Einar won’t come, but I have learned that Einar will do what Einar will do. You have been so good to this baby—you saved her life and mine. I will be in your debt forever. And one day, we will really be a family, even when we live in the new house.

Gerd shook her head and brushed Signe off with a flutter of her hand. We will just say we are even, then, and go on from here. Remember, if you decide to leave her with me, mostly because it is so dreadfully cold outside, I will be grateful.

Grateful. Such a marvelous word.

And now, you need your coffee heated. Can I get you anything else?

Signe raised her eyebrows. She dropped her voice and leaned forward. Are there any cookies left?

Gerd almost smiled—at least that was what Signe thought the fleeting commas that edged her mouth were. Gerd pushed back her chair and fetched the cookie tin. I will have to bake again this afternoon. Perhaps Leif will help me. He likes to.

As soon as they return from school, they’re going down to the barn. He said he was going to let the cows out for a while and sweep up hayseed for the chickens. But maybe afterward he will help. Signe lifted her newly warmed coffee cup. Takk. She dunked her cookie in the coffee. Cookies are such a treat. When I was little, my far let me dunk cookies in his coffee like this, she said with a drawn-out sigh. Which reminds me, I need to write a letter to Rune’s family. Good thing they pass the letters around. She paused and gestured with what was left of her cookie. These are so good. Sugar was often at a premium in Norway.

Ja, life is better here in Amerika. Gerd carried their dishes to the pan on the stove. I’ll start churning next.

Why don’t I do the churning, and you start the cookie dough? I will put her in the cradle first. The baby cradle they kept near the stove was one of the first things Rune had made after the beds for the boys. Signe and Gerd were both adept at keeping the cradle moving with one foot while their hands were busy with something else.

Late in the afternoon, Leif came slamming in with a grin that delighted his mor. The cookie dough was ready to roll out, and the butter was set in their winter food keeper, a niche installed in the pantry window. That room was so cold, even the cats ate fast and ran to curl up by the stove to wash.

The chickens really liked the hayseed! You should have seen them scratching and clucking. While he talked, he hung up his outer things and made sure there was no snow on his boots. Cookies. Can I help roll them?

Ja, I waited for you. Gerd pushed more wood into the firebox. She glanced at the clock. You hungry?

He grinned at her. I am always hungry. Can we cut the cookies first?

Gerd almost smiled again. Signe couldn’t stop smiling. She patted the baby nestled on her shoulder and swayed her instinctively from side to side. Thank you, Lord. I cannot say thank you enough. Signe tucked Kirstin into the cradle so her hands would be freer to help with the cookies and dinner. Thank you, Lord, for such a contented baby. What if she was a fusser? Another gift to be grateful for.

Can I go out to the woods to drag branches after we eat? I’ll come back early for chores.

I don’t see why not. Fill the woodbox first and take some cookies with you for the men.

That night, after all the others had gone to bed, Signe sat down in the kitchen, where it was the warmest, to read her Bible, hopefully without falling asleep with her cheek on the table like she had the night before. Rune had found her that way when he came down to see why she had not come to bed. Perhaps she should get up earlier and read in the morning. In her last letter, Mor had asked if she was reading her Bible. Signe knew she felt better when she did. But like last night, her body overruled her mind. Uff da.

This time Kirstin woke her, probably when Signe’s foot stopped rocking the cradle. She nursed the baby, changed her, and dragged herself and the baby upstairs to bed. Rune drew her close to warm her up.

What would church be like in the morning?

We’re on our way. Signe felt like singing the words. It had been a rush, getting the children ready and the baby tended to, but they made it. Now that they were out on the snowy track, Rosie pulling the sledge, she felt almost like a new woman. They were going to church like regular people, like they had in Norway. Thank you, Lord, for this breath of normality.

Rune patted her knee through the robe that covered her and baby Kirstin. I’m sorry it has taken so long. We could ski faster than the horse and sledge.

Hmm. She looked at Rune. Have you thought of making skis?

He shook his head. Nei. I’m surprised Bjorn hasn’t suggested it.

Bjorn, their oldest son, popped his head up from the mound of quilts and horse blankets in the wagon bed. Hasn’t suggested what?

Us making skis.

Knute joined him. For all of us?

Kirstin is a bit small to learn to ski, Leif added.

Mor could put her in a backpack. Knute had either thought of this before or was thinking fast now. What kind of wood do we need?

Signe nearly laughed out loud. Have you ever made skis?

Rune smiled at her. Nei, but then, I’ve learned to do any number of new things since we came to Amerika.

The jingling of the horse harness rang out across the glitter-frosted snow. Laughter, delighted laughter came from their boys—how long since she had heard that? Back home there used to be laughter. Had they lost it on their journey, left laughter behind in the horrible hold of that ship? Signe held her baby closer. Lord, is it that house? Or is it Onkel Einar and Tante Gerd? There will be laughter in our house, she promised herself. From the time we lay the foundation. She let the thought keep going. Anger and meanness could permeate a house like it did a human soul. What would it take to open the door and let laughter clean out Einar’s house? Gerd had almost smiled a couple times yesterday.

You are being mighty quiet, Rune said.

Just thinking. I guess the icy air is clearing my brain. I need to be outside more. Can you make skis out of pine, or do you need a hardwood?

We could use deer hide for boot straps. Bjorn was obviously already planning on making skis.

Rune nodded. Ash would be best, but I haven’t seen any ash around here. I’ll ask Einar.

A horse and sleigh caught up with them, and the occupants waved as they passed. Just that bit of kindness made Signe feel calmer. How would they be received at church? No, Mrs. Benson would make them welcome, and the boys already knew other children because of school. The breath she huffed out bloomed in front of her. Rosie probably already had ice crystals about her nose.

When they turned right onto the road to Blackduck, they passed the school, and Rune turned the horse onto the church’s property. Several houses fronted the road beyond that. Signe realized that on her trips to Benson’s General Store, she’d never taken the time to look at the rest of Benson’s Corner—not that there was much to it. The railroad ran along the east side of the town, if one could call it that. Rune pointed ahead to the tracks and a station of sorts.

That’s where we’ll bring the logs to ship. Einar said we would load them on the sledge before the snow and ground thaw out. He stopped the horse next to another team tied to the railing. Bjorn, Knute, blanket the horse and tie on the feed bag. Behind the school was the shed where the horses spent the school days sheltered from the weather.

Rune came around the sledge to help Signe down, the baby in her sling. Careful now.

Another team joined the lineup, the couple nodding and smiling a welcome. Rune shepherded his family to the front of