His Prairie Sweetheart. Erica Vetsch

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      Mrs. Halvorson’s greeting pulled Savannah out of her thoughts, and after a pause, she replied, “Good morning, Mrs. Halvorson.”

      The woman beamed and pointed to herself. “Agneta.”

      “Good morning, Agneta. Please, call me—” she put her hand on her chest “—Savannah.”

      “Sa-vah-nah.”

      “Yes.”

      Agneta reached into the sideboard and handed her some cutlery, then motioned to the table. Grateful for a job to do, Savannah set the table, taking the stoneware plates from the shelf where she’d seen Agneta put them after washing up last night. As she found tin cups, Agneta beamed and nodded. Again this morning she had her braids crisscrossed atop her head, giving her a girlish appearance. Her apron covered most of her dress and had been embroidered with cheerful yellow-and-red flowers along the hem.

      Just as Savannah placed the last cup, Lars and Rut came in. Lars carried a small pail of milk, which he handed to his mother before washing up at the basin beside the door. Agneta took the milk, poured some through a piece of cheesecloth into a pitcher, then the rest into a pair of shallow pans on the sideboard. Per Halvorson came in and opened the door that went into the dugout portion of the dwelling. A dank, cool, earthy smell rolled out, and Agneta carried the pans inside.

      The children tugged out the bench and sat at the table. Savannah took the place she’d occupied the night before, and when everyone was seated, Per bowed his head. Though she couldn’t understand the words, Savannah was grateful. At least she had been placed with a family that prayed together.

      A small wave of homesickness crept into her heart. This morning, Aunt Carolina, Aunt Georgette and Savannah’s sisters would be sitting on the back veranda sharing breakfast. The girls would be home from the Minton Ladies’ Academy for the weekend. The day would include shopping and tea downtown, perhaps a few calls upon friends. The evening would hold a symphony concert, or a stroll through the city gardens, or buggy rides with some of the young men in their set.

      “Sa-vah-nah?”

      She looked up. Agneta held a plate of thinly sliced meat for her.

      “Oh, I beg your pardon.” She took a piece of the meat and passed the plate to Rut. Bread followed.

      Sandwiches for breakfast? She had to expect that, along with the language, the customs and food would be different. With a slight shrug and a mental note to do everything she could to blend in to her new surroundings, Savannah buttered her bread and slid the meat between the two slices.

      Rut giggled and Lars stared.

      Savannah stopped, her food inches from her lips. “What?”

      Agneta scolded the children, who had the grace to look abashed. They fell to eating, and Savannah noticed that they placed their meat atop the bread and ate it with a fork. Open-faced sandwiches.

      Heat prickled her skin, and she slid her top piece of bread aside and picked up her fork. Painfully aware that she’d made some social gaffe, she found her appetite had fled.

      The Halvorsons spoke little during meals, and as soon as they’d finished eating, they sprang up. Agneta pointed to Rut and Lars, then a large basket beside the door. She showed Savannah the contents: a scrub brush, soap, rags...cleaning supplies. Agneta waved in the direction of the school, made a wiping motion with one of the rags and pointed to Savannah and the children.

      “Oh, thank you.” Savannah had wondered about how to get the school clean and ready for Monday. Evidently, Agneta had thought ahead.

      They went by road instead of cutting across the fields, which were high with corn and wheat. Lars brought along a small bucket of water, and Savannah couldn’t think why, since she had noticed a pump right by the school. Rut and Savannah carried the basket between them, and Rut chattered the entire time, as if Savannah could understand her perfectly. Evidently, she thought total immersion into the language was the best way to teach Savannah Norwegian.

      The belfry appeared first over the waving corn, then the white school building. A horse and buckboard stood out front, and someone sat on the steps. A loud bark erupted and a furry streak shot toward them, bounding and wagging and wiggling.

      The collie, Captain. Lars set his bucket down, dropped to his knees and embraced the dog.

      Elias rose from the porch, long and lean, his hat pushed back, revealing his dark hair. “Morning.”

      Savannah and Rut arrived together, and they set the basket on the ground. Rut clattered up the steps and took Elias’s hand, swinging on it as she gazed up with bright eyes. He winked at her.

      “Thought I’d come and make sure there isn’t anything that needs fixing, broken boards or loose hinges.” He motioned to a small toolbox he’d brought. “With the place sitting empty for so many months, there’s bound to be some issues.”

      Savannah nodded, unsure if she was glad or annoyed. With him here at least he could translate for the children, but it felt almost as if he didn’t think she was even up to the task of sweeping out the school without his supervision.

      Entering the school, she was again hit with the smells of dust and stale air. She moved to the closest window and tugged on the sash. It didn’t budge. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she looked for a lock, but there didn’t seem to be one. Savannah braced herself, pressing the heels of her hands against the frame, and pushed again. With a groan, the window came up an inch and stuck.

      “Here, let me help you with that.” Before she could move out of his way, Elias stood behind her, his arms coming up on either side. He raised the window with ridiculous ease, but all Savannah could think was that he smelled like shaving soap.

      She wanted to bolt. One of the things she had loved about Girard was the smell of his shaving soap. Her chest ached and her breath snagged as she closed her eyes against the now familiar pain of his desertion.

      “Are you all right?” Elias asked.

      Her eyes popped open and warmth flooded her cheeks. “Um...yes. Just...” She stopped, unwilling to reveal that much about herself. “I was debating where to start on the cleaning. I think I’ll work from the top down. Cobwebs first.” She glanced at the dusty webs along the ceiling and in the corners, trying to gather her composure. When would she stop feeling so raw? When would the hurt ease?

      Girard, you’ve left me in a shambles. Even though I wouldn’t have you back if you came gift-wrapped with a guarantee, I can’t help feeling the loss, the hole you created in my life, in my heart.

      Elias said, “I’ll open the rest of the windows, then you should come out with me to see how to work the pump. You’re going to need plenty of water for scrubbing today.”

      “I know how to pump water.” Indignation colored her tone. Her foundations were crumbling enough without him assuming she was an idiot.

      “I imagine you do.” He shoved up another window sash, letting in the morning breeze. “But this pump is a bit temperamental. Best you let me show you the right way.”

      As if there was a wrong way to draw water. “I know you think I’m a simpleton, but I assure you, I have reached the age of twenty-one without your СКАЧАТЬ