Read RR05 - Tender Mercies for Free Online Page B

forgot.” He shut his eyes again, rapid fired through eight, added nine, and his eyes flew open again. “Ten!”
    “Very good.” Pastor Solberg looked up, hoping to catch Thorliff ’s eye, but the boy had his nose in a book. The whole soddy could blow down before Thorliff would know it. John had learned it did no good to call the boy’s name. He wouldn’t hear. So he laid a hand on Toby’s shoulder and pointed to the boy on the chair. “You go ask Thorliff to help you and Jerry with your numbers and your alphabet.”
    The two did as asked, and John turned to three stairstep children standing before him, all looking so much alike except for their height that he’d have sworn they were cut from matching cookie cutters. They spoke only Norwegian, would have to have smile training, and the eldest, Mary, obviously didn’t want to be there. When John quizzed them in Norwegian, they answered in monosyllables. The Erickson sisters made reticent Hamre Bjorklund seem like a chatterbox.
    By dinnertime, Solberg had cabin fever as bad as the children. Since Indian summer had given them a glorious day, he sent them outside to eat and run off some of their boundless energy.
    Eight new pupils. How would he handle so many children with such a variety of ages and education? Or lack thereof? Last year had been easy in retrospect.
    A girl screaming from outside drew him flying to the door.

Chapter 5
    “Miz Bjorklund, there’s a drummer here wants to talk with you.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Valders, I’ll be right there. On second thought, send him back for a cup of coffee. He can show me what he’s selling here.” Penny Bjorklund glanced around her kitchen, which turned into a restaurant for the noon meal. She had just served dinners to eight men who worked on the track repair gang for the railroad. Several of them had become regulars, two wondering when there would be a place in Blessing for them to sleep.
    They really did need the boardinghouse or a hotel. She thought back to the months she’d worked in the Headquarters Hotel in Fargo while finishing high school. And waited for Hjelmer.
    “Mrs. Bjorklund?” The man paused on the other side of the curtain between the store and the Bjorklund home.
    “Yes, come on in.” Smiling, she looked up from clearing the last table. “How can I help you?”
    A man not much taller than her five foot six inches edged through the door with his sales case first. Setting the carryall down, he removed his black bowler hat and glanced around the cheerful room. “Ah, now isn’t this like home?” Hat over his heart, he nodded and almost bowed at the same time. “The man out front said I was to talk with you. Not Mr. Bjorklund?” The tentative note in his voice showed as wrinkles on his broad forehead. While he didn’t appear older, his hair had begun to recede, making his prominent nose even more so.
    “That’s right, unless you need to speak to the banker or the blacksmith. Hjelmer is both.” She brushed the last crumb into her palm and gestured to the straight-backed chair. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. You take cream?”
    He shook his head and sniffed the air. “Smells like home too. I ain’t been home for a long time, you see, and this . . . this room and . . . and you, why, my Emma would think she was looking in a mirror.” He slid into the chair Penny had pulled out and continued to look around, smiling at the things he saw.
    While Penny poured him a cup of coffee and placed cookies on a plate, she followed his glance. Red-and-white gingham curtains at the window, a braided rug in front of the door and another in front of the cast-iron stove polished to a high sheen, woodbox newly filled, thanks to cousin Ephraim, white painted cupboards along one wall with a counter for her to work on. Two square tables and one round table with four chairs at each took up much of the room, leaving only a corner for Hjelmer’s rocking chair.
    They really did need more space