A Winter's Promise Page 9

  “Boys!” she called as she dressed Ellie. “I’ve got a surprise for you as soon as you’re dressed.”

  “What? What?” they clamored.

  “I can’t tell you till you’re all done dressing.”

  They ran out of the bedroom in moments, still struggling with buttons.

  Emma opened the little brown packet and spread the pictures on the table. “See, Fred! That’s a train.”

  “I want the twain,” he yelled grabbing it.

  Luckily Albert wanted the horses, or there would have been a squabble.

  Emma handed Ellie the telephone picture. Soberly the little girl turned it over and back again, looking up at Emma for an explanation.

  “Here, Liebchen, I’ll put it away for you. When you’re bigger, I’ll tell you all about telephones. You’ll like this better.” She pulled out the red ribbon. “See! Mama’ll make you pretty! Let me tie it in your hair, and you’ll look pretty when Papa comes in.”I

  When it was secure Ellie patted it, eyes questioning. Emma picked her up and let her see herself in the wavy, walnut-framed mirror. The pain that shot up Emma’s spine almost took her breath away, but Ellie’s delight was worth the cost, she told herself as she set her down.

  A chorus of, “Papa, look! Papa look!” greeted Al when he came in from doing chores. Emma felt a twinge of envy. They never greeted her with such exuberance.

  While Emma tied a flour-sack towel around Ellie’s neck and poured cream on her oatmeal, Ellie waved and jabbered and fussed.

  “Eat your oatmeal now! See? Mama put sugar on it!” But Ellie just banged her spoon and yelled all the more.

  The boys showed Al their pictures, and he tried to tell Albert about the horses’ harnesses. Ellie’s fussing threatened to drown him out.

  Al frowned at her. “Ellie! What are you yellin’ about?”

  She pointed at the boys’ pictures. “Mine! Mine!” she insisted.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Emma said. “She wants her picture.”

  When Emma gave it to her, Ellie handed it to Al with a big grin.

  “That’s a telephone,” he told her.

  Fred looked puzzled. “What’s a tele . . . tele—”

  “Telephone,” Albert informed him, as though he knew all about it.

  “Tell Fred what it is,” Al challenged.

  “Well ... it’s a ... Mama told me. . . .” He shrugged. “I forgot.”

  Al smiled. “A telephone,” he explained between mouthfuls of oatmeal, “is, well, it’s a ... guess you’d call it an instrument that you use to talk to people who are far away. See,” he pointed and the boys craned their necks to look, “this is the receiver where you listen, and this is the mouthpiece. That’s what you talk into.”

  “Did you ever see one?” Emma asked quietly.

  “Sure did! Watched a man talkin’ on one in town last year. He let me listen.”

  ‘“Did it, sound like a real person?” Albert asked.

  “Yup! Sounded far away, though, and there was some crackling sound, but I could hear every word.”

  “How far away was he?” Albert said, spoon in the air.

  “Clear across town.”

  Emma shook her head. “That’s hard to believe.”

  Albert wrinkled his forehead. “How does the sound get through?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it has something to do with electricity.”

  “Lectricity? What’s that?”

  Al rolled his eyes and rubbed his chin. “Now, how do I explain that?” he asked Emma. “Well, you can’t see it, but it’s a power and it can go through wires. Somehow that power is changed back to the sound of the voice again, when it gets to the telephone receiver.”

  “Where are the wires?” Albert wanted to know.

  “They’re strung way up high on tall poles all along the streets or roads.” Al spread a thick slice of bread with butter. “We’ll have a telephone someday.”

  Albert’s eyes widened. “We will?”

  “Sure will,” Al continued. “The telephone was invented way back in 1876, and here it is 1892. It’s high time we got ‘em out here where we need ‘em.”

  Emma stared out the window. “Wouldn’t that be something. . .

  Al chuckled. “One thing, we won’t have any trouble getting poles for the wires around these parts!”

  “Would I be able to talk to my ma? That’s over three miles.”

  “Sure you could. You could talk to Kate, too. That’s called ‘long distance.’”

  Emma’s eyes brightened. “But what’ll it cost to buy one?”

  “As I understand it, you don’t buy it. You pay rent on it. The telephone company owns it.”

  “How soon do you think...

  Al shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know five, ten years, maybe.”

  Emma blinked back tears. Al would be home instead of in camp by then. Now was when she needed it.

  Al didn’t notice her misty eyes and went on telling the boys there would be all kinds of inventions by the time they grew up.

  “What’s an invention?” Albert wanted to know.

  “Well, now, an invention is something someone makes that hasn’t been made before. Sleighs had to be invented, and wagons—even stoves. You’ll learn a lot about inventions when you go to school.”

  Albert took a hasty drink of milk, leaving a white mustache above his mouth. “When kin I go to school?”

  “Maybe this fall.”

  “Will Miss Clark be there?”

  “I s’pose so.”

  “She’s purdy.”

  Al and Emma chuckled. “He’s a Verleger all right,” Al said to Emma. “Knows a pretty girl when he sees one.”

  Emma ignored the comment. “Jenny Clark looks a lot like Kate’s girls, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm, same red hair, if that’s what you mean. Only saw her once, at that corn husking party at Gebers’.”

  “Albert took a shine to her, and so did Fred,” said Emma. “She told me she’s English, but it looks to me like some Irishman got over the border. She seems like a nice young lady, but she sure has an odd way of talkin’.”

  AI laughed. “That’s why the county superintendent of schools sends these English girls out in the country. They hope the Germans and Swedes and Norwegians will learn proper English.”

  “Your ma would rather have her speak German. When I told her I thought Miss Clark must be pleasant company for her, she started complaining–”

  Al interrupted, “You know better than to pay attention to Ma. She’d complain about the Angel Gabriel, if he boarded with them.”

  Albert tugged on Al’s arm. “What’s ‘boarded’ mean?”

  “It means a person who pays a family to live with them,” Al explained.

  “Miss Clark hasta pay to live with Grandma and Grandpa Verleger?”

  Al nodded and exchanged a smile with Emma. He knew she was wondering, too, if Albert was thinking that someone would have to pay him to live with his Grandma Verleger. Though Emma wouldn’t allow the children to speak disrespectfully about their elders, Albert was free to think his own thoughts, and many unpleasant incidents had not endeared Grandma Verleger to him.

  Al scraped his chair back from the table. “Gotta get the snow shoveled and the barn cleaned.”

  He had hardly gone outside when he came in again. “Em ... come here.” He draped her coat around her shoulders and ushered her toward the door.

  Immediately Albert and Fred scrambled down from the bench. “No! Not you fellas! Get back to the table and finish your breakfast,” Al ordered. “Your mama’ll be right back.”

  He drew her out into the crisp, gleaming-white, morning. “We just have to take a minute to enjoy looking at all this,” he said.

  Emma pulled her coat close around her and shivered. Al stepped behind her and wrapped his long arms around her, his chin resting on her head.

  “I like the spruce and balsam up along the edge of the field,” he said softly. “Don’t even n
otice the shape of ‘em till they’ve got snow on ‘em, like now.”

  Emma let her eyes rove from the far edge of the field beyond the barn to the pillow-topped barn roof where the snow hung in graceful scallops along the east side of the building. Her eyes followed the intricate curves the wind had carved in the drift close to her feet. It was pretty, all right. But the beauty wasn’t penetrating that hollow spot inside of her. It was like trying to pour water into a jar with the lid on. She pulled her thoughts back and tried to listen to Al.

  “. . .and man thinks he’s so smart,” Al was saying. “Like to see ‘em make something this perfect.”

  Emma sighed, “I wish it would stay this white.”

  “You want snow all year?”

  “Oh, no! I can’t wait for spring, but it’s so pretty and clean. Look at it sparkle now that the sun’s getting high!”

  Al made a wide, sweeping gesture with his right hand. “They’re diamonds for you, Em. Probably the only kind I’ll ever be able to give you,” he said wistfully.

  “Only kind I want,” she said softly. “What use would I have for real ones?”

  A bellow from the barn startled both of them

  Al’s arms tightened around Emma in a quick hug, then he trotted off toward the barn, calling over his shoulder, “It’s Molly. Forgot to tell you, she’s calving. Looks like a big one, judging by the hooves.”

  Molly bellowed again, and Emma cringed. Poor thing, she thought. She’s such a little cow to have a big calf. She turned to go in the house, amazed that she had forgotten Molly was due to drop her calf at any time. She shook her head and muttered, “What would I have done if the calf had come yesterday?”

  With one foot on the doorsill, Emma hesitated. Maybe if she really tried to think about the snowscape, she could feel the usual happy feeling such beauty brought her. Yesterday’s boisterous wind had blown far away, leaving an eerie stillness behind. Soundlessly a ridge of snow toppled and fell from an elm branch near the river. Soon, Emma knew, these branches would all shed their ermine coats; the sparkling snow blanket would become track-marred and dull. Now was the time to take in its beauty.

  But the more she tried to absorb it, the emptier she, felt, until the sparkles wavered through her tears. “What’s the matter with me?” she groaned.

  Molly bellowed again, and a chill raced up Emma’s spine. She had never heard a cow carry on like that. Maybe she should help. No, the children would be at the door any second.

  Still she lingered, her coat wrapped tightly around, her. What if they lost the calf after all that time and effort to get Molly bred? There had been a thousand things to do last spring, when they first came back from Phillips. Right in the middle of that first week, Al had to lead Molly ten miles to Spirit Falls to have her bred. When Emma had fretted because Al had to spend all that time on the road, he had reminded her that he might have had to go clear to Tomahawk, if Mr. Bradley hadn’t bought a bull and kept him at Spirit Falls for the convenience of the farmers in the area. She had agreed that Mr. Bradley had certainly done them all a good turn, but just the same, there was ground to be tilled and seeds to plant.

  Al had reminded her, too, how fortunate they were to have Molly. If Al’s mother had had her way, they would have had only Bessie, the cow they had left with his parents when they moved to Phillips—and Cora, of course. Grandma Verleger had been only too glad to get rid of, Cora. She had wanted to keep Molly, but Grandpa said his rheumatism was worse than ever and he couldn’t lead her all the way to Spirit Falls. So Molly had become theirs.

  Now, from the sound of things, neither Molly nor the calf would make it.

  As Emma opened the door she said to herself again, “What if the calf had come yesterday, or waited until tomorrow?” She began to thank God for the perfect timing, and for allowing her to forget the calf was coming and sparing her that worry, but she took a deep breath instead.

  “Where’s Papa?” Albert yelled when he saw her come in.

  Emma blinked in the dim room, hung up her coat, and told him that Papa had gone to the barn. Of course, the boys begged to go to the barn, too, and Ellie clung to Emma’s skirt and whined.

  “Papa’ll be in soon,” Emma assured them. “When he comes back, we’ll see if you can go out with him.”

  Albert pouted. “He always lets us go with ‘im.”

  Emma began to clear the table, thinking that soon the calving of a cow would be a common occurrence for the boys. But not this one. She’d have to think of something to keep them occupied.

  She went to put wood in the stove and noticed that there were only a few sticks left. “Boys! The wood box is almost empty. Hurry and fill it before Papa comes in, and I’ll have a surprise for you.”

  It worked. Albert carried arm loads and dumped them into the wood box, Fred dragged in a few sticks, and Ellie got in the way, as usual. At least they were busy.

  Emma flipped over the still-wet socks and long-legged underwear.

  Perhaps the boys would play contentedly in the fresh snow while Al drank a cup of coffee. Then she’d sit down, look him right in the eye, and say, “Al, we have to do something about my being alone while you’re gone.”

  What they could do, she didn’t know. If only Gebers lived closer, so Clara could run over while Emma was outside.

  “Mama! It’s full!” Albert announced.

  “My goodness, it sure is! We’ll have enough wood to last until tomorrow!” Emma exclaimed. Sit down at the table, and I’ll get your treat.”

  She went to the pantry and got the peppermint candies her mother had sent and gave them each one piece.

  “Look what Grandma Kamin sent you!”

  She popped one into her own mouth, too.

  Albert and Fred giggled, and Ellie drooled.

  Emma waited a few minutes until she knew the candy was almost gone. Then, eyes twinkling, she said, “Now I have another surprise for you. Come here and take a drink of water and see what happens.”

  She held the dipper for each of the children, and as soon as one had a drink there were squeals of, “Cold! Cold!”

  Emma glanced at the clock. After ten already. She began to slice the leftover venison to heat for dinner and for sandwiches for Al. He wouldn’t get to camp until after supper.

  Her thoughts turned to poor Molly struggling to have her calf. Again she stifled the urge to pray.

  “Papa’s comin’!” Albert yelled and dashed to the door.

  Emma poured warm water in the washbasin before Al strode in, his hands outstretched in front of him.

  “Got a surprise for you boys,” he called over his shoulder as he washed his hands. “Get your overshoes and coats on!”

  Fred’s eyes opened so wide the white showed all the way around the blue. “Another s’prise?”

  Al grinned at Emma and whispered, “She did it! Nice big heifer calf.”

  “Oh! I’m so glad! What happened? How come she had trouble?”

  “It’s a pretty big calf, and she needed help. I had to really pull!”

  “What would I have done if it had come yesterday, or tomorrow?”

  Al shrugged. “Helped her.”

  “How?”

  He dried his hand on the roller towel. “You just take a piece of rope and tie it around the little hooves—you’ve seen how they always come first, unless something’s really wrong—and then tie a stick on, so you can get a good grip. When she pushes, you pull!”

  “But I’m not strong like you. . . .”

  “Just brace yourself against the gutter edge or a post, and use all your weight.” Al started for the door without noticing Emma’s pale face. “You fellas ready?”

  When Ellie saw the boys getting dressed to go outside, she flung herself at Emma, wailing, “Go out! Go out!”

  Al smiled down at her. “Get her dressed,” he said.

  “But she doesn’t have any overshoes.”

  “She won’t need ‘em. I’ll carry her.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt him to dress
her,” Emma grumbled to herself. But she had to smile as Ellie waved to her over Al’s shoulder, tears still glistening on her pink cheeks.

  “Mama? You comin’?” Albert yelled from the lean-to.

  “No. The baby’ll be waking up soon. I’d better stay here.”

  She watched them from the window, wondering again why she hadn’t been able to feel joy when she looked, at all that beauty. She went to pick up George, wondering if there was something terribly wrong with her.

  Settled in the rocker with the baby, she thought about the calf again. Al made it sound so easy: “When she pushes, you pull.” Emma could see herself slipping and landing in the gutter again. Anger welled up inside of her, and tears threatened. He hadn’t even mentioned her struggle since she told him about it. “He hasn’t the least idea. . . .” she said out loud. “As soon as he comes back in, we’re going to sit down and talk!”

  But Al didn’t come in. The boys brought Ellie in and announced, “Papa says to have dinner ready ‘bout half past ‘leven.”