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  “You and Anker are married. I pray you will be very happy. Is too bad you didn’t have nice wedding, but we want you to come to our house Sunday after church and we will celebrate your marriage like we do in Norway.”

  Anker grinned. “Seems we are invited over to the Nilssons’.”

  She was wrong about there being no need for panic. It attacked her throat like a cat clawing her skin. “To celebrate our marriage?”

  “So it says.”

  “Have you forgotten it is not real?”

  His mouth drew into a flat line. His eyes grew hooded.

  Lena knew she had annoyed him, perhaps angered him, and hoped he would not use it for an excuse to turn nasty. Mrs. Miller had found silent, deadly ways to punish Lena when she displeased her. She had a wicked pinch. Lena didn’t realize she clutched the back of her arm until Anker’s gaze went there and she dropped her hand to her side.

  Anker slowly brought his gaze back to her. “Legally, we are married. And I think it best everyone believe that. You will find it hard enough to face their gossip when the time comes.” He looked at Charlie playing with the socks Lena had given him.

  She knew what Anker didn’t say. People seemed to look for a reason to judge harshly because of Charlie’s heritage. She hated to admit it, but Anker was right. She didn’t want to give people any more reason to turn up their noses.

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  “You have Inga’s dress or—” He nodded toward the parcel from the store. “There is yard goods. You could make new dress.”

  A new dress. Made to fit her. She’d had only one that she could remember. One that Johnson bought before their trip west. It had no doubt burned up. It bothered her to realize her next new dress would come from Anker. This gesture of his seemed to blur the boundary lines she intended to keep in place. “I have no thread nor needle.”

  He made a gesture toward the bundle. “Best have a look before you decide what you do or do not have.”

  She hesitated—curiosity drawing her toward exploring, caution holding her back.

  Anker sighed and pulled the bundle to her feet. “Look.”

  She knelt on the floor and pulled out item after item. The yard goods were more than adequate for a dress. She could make Charlie a shirt as well. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. Solid and smooth. Good quality. And more yard goods—in sturdy blue denim.

  “I thought young Charlie could use some dungarees.”

  Lena chuckled low in her throat. It surprised and pleased her that Anker had thought of Charlie and pictured him in denim pants even though he was not yet two years old. A smock seemed more practical yet she liked the idea of seeing him in pants. “I’ll make him a pair right off.”

  She found needles, thread, scissors, and writing paper. She opened a smaller parcel, saw a variety of private garments and closed it quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as Anker chuckled.

  “Mrs. Lowe took care of those things.”

  Lena couldn’t look at him as she mumbled something faintly resembling thanks.By the time she finished going through the three bundles, she had several items either she or Charlie could make immediate use of, and more she could remake. She sat back on her heels. “It is so much.” She looked up at Anker sitting in a chair watching her. “How can I ever repay everyone?”

  Anker leaned forward over his knees until his face was inches away. “Lena, this is evidence that God loves you. Accept it with a happy heart.”

  She searched for something in his look. Something she couldn’t even identify. Evidence of God’s love? “It’s hard enough to believe God loves me. Accepting from the hands of others is even harder.”

  He nodded. “I know. But God uses man’s hands to do His bidding.”

  She snorted and leaned back. “I could do without the middle man.”

  He sat back, his expression unreadable.

  She pushed to her feet. “Here I am examining gifts and forgetting your meal. It’s ready to serve.” She had stew simmering on the stove.

  “I’ve been smelling it since I got home. My stomach is beginning to scratch my backbone.”

  Guilt flooded through Lena. She had to do better. She had responsibilities. She didn’t intend to shirk them and give anyone a chance to penalize her for her neglect.

  She reached for Charlie but Anker stopped her. “I’ll get the little man.”

  Leaving him to do so, she rushed into the kitchen and quickly set the table. She’d made baking powder biscuits to go with the stew. She put a stack of them beside Anker’s plate.

  Anker settled her son in a chair and waited for Lena to sit then took Charlie’s hand and reached out for Lena’s. She hesitated, confused by her range of emotions—caution, wariness, and a longing that consumed reason. She couldn’t even say what she longed for, only that she knew it was unattainable. Even thinking about it diverted her from her steely purpose.

  She would spend the winter in a pretend marriage to this man. She would do everything in her power to do her share, and yet she’d leave in the spring knowing she owed him. A most unwelcome feeling.

  He waited, patient and persistent.

  She remembered her promise to not argue. This seemed like a small thing, so she reached out and let him hold her hand.

  She heard not a word of his prayer as she tried not to think of how strong and solid his hand felt. The sort of hand that would grasp on to something and not let go. The idea both comforted and alarmed her.

  * * *

  Later, they sat in the living room close to the fire. Anker read from the stack of newspapers he’d brought from town. A quick glance convinced Lena they had no interest for her, being written in what she could only assume was Norwegian.

  Charlie played at Anker’s feet, still amused with folding and refolding the socks. When he began to suck his fingers and fuss, Lena set aside the garment she’d been taking apart. Tomorrow, when she had the house to herself, she intended to cut out a dress for herself and trousers for Charlie. “Time to put Charlie to bed.”

  “You settle him then come back. I will read from the Bible. It is a custom of my family.”

  She’d intended to retire with her son rather than sit longer with Anker. But she’d decided to be civil. And truth be, she longed for the comfort she remembered getting from the Scriptures when Johnson read the Bible. Not that she thought she’d ever recapture that feeling. “Fine.”

  Charlie fell asleep almost instantly. He’d always been a good baby about going to sleep. Took after his father in that respect as he did in several others. She stroked back his black hair. For his sake, she sometimes wished he didn’t show so much of his father’s heritage. But not for a moment would she change a thing about this precious child. It had been his demands, his chuckles, and her concern for his future that had kept her going since Johnson’s death.

  She would linger here, in the privacy of the small room, but Anker waited and she guessed he wouldn’t give up easily. Nor take her absence as anything but more stubbornness on her part. She rolled her head back and forth to ease the tension building across her neck and tiptoed from the room.

  Anker sat with a big Bible in his lap when she returned. And a small package. When she sat across from him in the wooden rocker he’d pulled close, he handed her the parcel. “This is for you. A wedding gift from me.”

  A nerve twitched in Lena’s right cheek. “The marriage is pretend. Remember?”

  “It is considered bad luck to get no wedding presents. However, I do not trust luck, I trust God’s care. Let this speak of that. His care and protection over our time together.”

  Still, she hesitated. “I have nothing to give you.”

  His slow smile filled his eyes with brightness. “To have company for the long, cold winter is the best gift. I come from a large family. There is always someone sharing your space. Always there is someone to talk to even if you don’t want it.” He chuckled, and she guessed he didn’t consider having no space to be a hardship
. She wondered how it would feel to have her presence welcomed anytime, anywhere.

  “Last winter was very lonely for me.” He chuckled again. “I guess that’s why I found so many excuses to visit Johnson.” He sobered and studied her. His look filled with sadness and regret. She wanted to tell him to stop. To stop reminding her of all she had lost—the one person in the world who didn’t make her feel she failed to measure up to some invisible mark.

  “He was a good man. I so often wish I had been in the lead,” Anker said.

  “Then Johnson would face those same regrets.”

  “There is no undoing the past.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  He scrubbed at his chin. “Most times it is a good thing we cannot change the past. I do not wish to go back to my life in Norway.” He explained how his large family all lived on the same farm, every year the number of people growing until there wasn’t enough land to go around. “I look around at all the space and land here and I feel—” He pressed his open palm to his chest and paused as he searched for an English word. “Hopeful. I feel hopeful that the future will be better than the past.”

  Hope. She longed for such a thing and worked her lips as tears threatened at the back of her eyes. She would not let them surface. “Sometimes the future does not hold much promise.”

  “You mean for you with so many losses. God must surely have a plan. He will take care of you.”

  “I don’t see much evidence of it.”

  “Because we only see such a small bit of time. He sees it all. And He can do such big things. Did He not create the whole world? I guess creating something in your life is but a small thing. Yes?”

  “Put like that, I guess so.”

  “You do not sound certain.”

  How could she explain her reservations without sounding as if she doubted God?

  It seemed he didn’t expect an explanation. He handed her the parcel. “I wish for God’s blessing on our time together. Take this gift to show my promise to honor our agreement and do my best to make this a pleasant winter.”

  After that little speech, she could hardly refuse. “I, in turn, will do my best to make it pleasant as well. It will be my gift to you.”

  His eyes darkened. “Best gift I could ask for. Thank you. Now open your package.”

  She untied the string and with a certain amount of trepidation, folded back the paper. Her throat clogged as she lifted out a beautiful brush. Beneath it, a comb and mirror. The back of the brush and mirror were porcelain with tiny pink roses. All three pieces were trimmed in gold-colored brass. She forced words past her stiff tongue. “This is beautiful. I—” I have never had anything so beautiful. It is too much. I can never hope to repay you. Everything that came to her startled mind seemed wrong in light of their most recent conversation. She couldn’t look at him, certain he would see her reluctance to accept.

  Why was it so hard for her to receive any sort of gift?

  Because she feared it carried with it an unspoken demand that she would find difficult to satisfy.

  “It is a gift. I want nothing in return except for you to enjoy our winter together.”

  “Thank you.” She managed to squeeze the words out.

  “Now I will read from the Bible. I will do my best to translate into English as I read.”

  Her apprehension at his gift shifted to surprise at his dry tone, and a low laugh escaped her. “That certainly would be nice for me.”

  His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Maybe not so good as you think. I don’t read the English very well.” Then he turned his attention to the pages before him. “I will read a Psalm. They are the most easy.”

  He read slowly, stumbling once or twice, but the words settled in her mind, familiar in content, yet unfamiliar in his voice.

  “You like the Psalms?” He looked up, keeping his finger in the book as he closed it.

  “Yes, of course.” A lump swelled in her throat. “Johnson always read aloud to me. I’ve missed it.” God had seemed distant and perhaps a bit disapproving since Johnson’s death.

  “The Psalms seem to reach out and grab your soul and pour a bit of God into you, do they not?” He sat back. “I am not very good at saying what I mean. Especially in the English.” He snorted. “Of course, you have no way of knowing if I’m any better in Norwegian.”

  Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. He made God’s love sound like a drink of cold water on a burning hot day. A familiar longing welled up within her. She didn’t know how to satisfy it. She’d tried desperately. She worked as hard as she knew how, she tried to ask for nothing from anyone, yet it seemed she never quite reached some invisible mark. “I think you make yourself very well understood, however I’m not sure God is willing to be quite so generous with me as to pour Himself into my life.”

  “Ah, but God is not—how do you say it?—little in His giving. He pours out so much without measure to all who are willing to receive. He gives love and life and joy and peace.”

  Lena stared, her mind churning with hope and amazement. “Johnson always said God would take care of us because that’s His job and He is big enough for it.”

  “Yah.” Anker’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. He seemed to see far past the words she said to the doubts and fears of her heart. “He will do so because of His promise.”

  Anker said things in a way that filled her with fresh faith. He made it sound so cut and dried. Lena hadn’t found it so, but surely, if she worked at making this winter as pleasant for them both as was in her power, God would grant her the desire of her heart and somehow work out the thorny details of how she would return to her land.

  She yawned. It had been a long, emotion-filled day.

  “You are tired. Let me light a lamp for you.” He pulled the spare one from the top of the cupboard, lit it, and handed it to her. “Good night, Lena. Things will be better in the morning. You will find again your faith. I pray for it.”

  She drank hope from his steady, reassuring eyes, felt a strange quivering in her soul, but dared not think it meant things would get better, easier, more to her liking. She slid her gaze to the lamp as she took it. “Good night,” she whispered, barely able to find her voice.

  “Don’t forget this.” He handed her the parcel containing the brush set. She’d set it on the chair when she stood and forgotten it as she struggled with her confusing reaction to his offer to pray for her.

  “Thank you.” She forced herself to walk steadily across the floor though every nerve in her body screamed to run to her room.

  “Remember, I will start the fires tomorrow.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it. What was wrong with her? Why was she so confused? As though teetering on a narrow board across a rushing stream? She did not like the feeling that things were about to change. Every time things changed, they got worse.

  But as she lay in bed, she struggled to stop thinking of Anker’s words of faith and God’s love, and the way his look was so steady and certain.

  She’d put the brush set on the table by the bed and now reached out to run her fingers over the soft bristles. She’d never in her entire life had such a lovely gift.

  A token of his promise to keep this a pretend marriage.

  She shifted to her side and stared into the darkness.

  Why was her life full of pretense and failure? And always this deep aching for more?

  Chapter 5

  Anker built the fires and, as he waited for the room to warm, he watched the bedroom door, waiting for Lena and Charlie to emerge. He needed to see them, know they were okay.

  It had been selfish on his part to buy Lena that fancy brush and comb set. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She’d lost everything, even her faith it seemed. Perhaps God had put her in Anker’s care so she could find her faith again. How that turned into buying her an expensive gift, he could not say. For sure the money could have been better spent on necessities. Not that he regretted the purchase. Not in the least. She
deserved something that showed his regard for her, his admiration for the way she faced her difficult circumstances.

  Only it had created a problem he hadn’t anticipated.

  When he’d seen the surprise on her face and read her fleeting pleasure, something inside him had shifted. He examined the change and slowly recognized it for what it was. He wanted to see her surprised and pleased again. Endlessly.

  Charlie squawked. His feet hit the floor with a thud.

  Anker smiled. There would be no hiding behind closed doors now. Charlie would ensure that.

  Lena’s soft tones reasoned with Charlie. Probably trying to contain him while she dressed him.

  A few minutes later, she opened the door and Charlie ran out ahead of her. She wore the dress Inga had sent. It fit loosely but the dark blue made her brown eyes stand out large and watchful, and perhaps a little wary, as if uncertain how to proceed with their relationship. Her brown hair had been brushed into glistening neatness and her braid wrapped about her head like a crown.

  She hurried across the room to the stove. “Nice and warm.” She looked at the top of the heater as if it needed her attention to kick out heat.

  He waited for her to lift her gaze to him and when she didn’t, he realized his close study made her uncomfortable. He forced his attention to Charlie who ran back and forth across the room. “He do this every morning?”

  “Didn’t have room in our shack. Guess he likes the space.”

  He should have thought of a gift for Charlie. But he had a better idea than purchasing from the meager selection at the store. He’d make something like one of the toys his father and grandfather had made for Anker and the many cousins.

  He’d work on it out in the barn. He needed the excuse to stay outdoors, give Lena space to herself. Give them both time to adjust to this new situation.

  “I’ll prepare breakfast.” She scuttled away.

  As soon as Charlie realized his mother had gone to the kitchen, he hurried after her calling, “Ma ma ma,” in an endless chant.

  Anker followed more slowly, as eager as he was reluctant, to be part of the family scene. It wouldn’t bear to get too used to it.