Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter Page 12

She put a hand to one of the ringed curls, surprised at the reflection of a stylish young woman. “I think it is lovely, Granny, and your hard work is definitely appreciated.” Merrill lowered the mirror. “But it took over an hour to do this. I haven’t got that kind of time to give to arranging and decorating my hair. What sensible woman would?”

  Corabeth frowned. “I spend a good amount of time dressing mine, and I’m sensible.”

  Merrill gave her friend an apologetic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I just meant that my life on the farm would hardly allow for such a thing. If I were to spend more than ten minutes getting ready in the morning, Father would think me ill.”

  “Actually, Merrill Jean, your father and brothers are a big part of the problem.” Granny’s tone was none too gentle. “They treat you like you’re one of them, and you aren’t. Your mother would be appalled, and it’s time you started thinking of what she would want for you.”

  A frown knitted Merrill’s brows together. She knew Granny meant well, but she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the moment. “My mother wanted me to be kind and helpful to my brothers and father,” she murmured.

  “Of course she did,” Granny said, bobbing a nod. “I didn’t mean to sound grouchy. It’s just that you are a beautiful young woman, but you don’t allow yourself to see it. I see you with your emerald eyes and dark hair and know that your beauty is unmatched. You look into the mirror and see a laborer who must work every second of the day to benefit someone else.”

  “But isn’t that how Christ would have us be?” Merrill looked at Granny and then to Corabeth. “I think God puts us all in different situations for different reasons. If I am to fall in love and marry a man, should that man not love me no matter my appearance? Surely I won’t be able to fashion my hair like this every day.”

  “Of course not every day, dear—this style is for special occasions. But you can learn to accent your beauty,” Granny said. “You can wear more feminine attire. Add some lace to your collar, trim your blouse with some ribbon. Wear a pretty broach or a necklace.”

  “And gloves,” Corabeth said, holding up a pair of white kid gloves. “Instead of mittens.”

  “But mittens are warmer,” Merrill said in her practical way.

  “Then wear them over the gloves and lay the mittens aside when you go into church or a gathering.”

  “And use the fan,” Corabeth added.

  Merrill sighed. They meant well; she knew that much. But she wished they could understand that their fussing only served to make her feel like more of an outsider.

  The clock chimed one, and Merrill jumped to her feet. “Oh, I must go. I promised to stop over at the furniture shop before I head home. Thank you so much for your kind words and . . . and of course the help with my hair.” She noted the look of expectancy on their faces. Taking up her reticule, Merrill paused. “I suppose, if you truly wish to make a gown for me, I won’t object. Charge the material to Father’s account, and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”

  Granny clapped her hands. “We’ll go right away.” She motioned to Corabeth. “Please go tell your grandfather we’re going out, and bring me my coat.”

  Corabeth nodded and hurried off to see to her grandmother’s request. Merrill pulled on her long wool coat, then took up her bonnet. She hesitated for fear of making a mess of her new hairstyle. “Thank you again, Granny. I’m sure my hair has never looked nicer. I won’t even put my bonnet on just yet.”

  “That’s good. Let the fellas see how pretty you can be.”

  Merrill nodded, smiled her gratitude, and hurried outside. She knew it was silly, but the new hairstyle gave her a sense of confidence she’d not expected. She hurried through the snowy streets, carefully making her way through town and wondering what people might be thinking when they saw her. Would they assume she was putting on airs? Would they find the new style a vast improvement?

  “Why should I care?” Merrill murmured to herself. But she did.

  At the Jorgenson Furniture shop, Merrill found herself the center of attention. Several of the men stopped what they were doing to hurry over and show her the area Carl had set aside for her to work in.

  “Your hair is different, Miss Krause,” one of the men noted, sounding tentative but also approving.

  She nodded uncomfortably and held up her bonnet. “I was worried my hat would destroy all of Granny Lassiter’s work.” The man just smiled.

  “See, there’s a nice long table for your paints and other supplies,” Lars pointed out.

  “We’ll bring the finished pie safes into this room, and you’ll be able to arrange them any way you like. Then you can work on them at your leisure,” another of the men commented.

  “Not that there will be much in the way of leisure,” Rurik declared from the door.

  Merrill started at the sound of his voice and turned to face him. He crossed the room and motioned to one of the nearby cupboards. “Carl has purchased some paints for you. Why don’t you check them out and see what you think?”

  He opened the door before she could protest. Inside were a dozen or more bottles, the colors clearly showing through the glass. He drew up behind her, and Merrill felt a shiver of delight run through her from head to toe.

  “He has more ordered, and if you have a particular color you need that isn’t here, you only have to ask.”

  The supply seemed more than enough. Merrill drew closer to the cabinet, trying to put distance between her and Rurik. “Thank you. Sometimes it’s the simple things that are most needed—white and black for instance.”

  “You’ll see that there are additional bottles of both down below.”

  She inspected the bottom shelf and found it just as he said. She straightened and took a deep breath before turning to face him. Smiling, Merrill wanted only to lose herself in his gaze. Instead, she looked back to face the other men. “This seems to be a very well-ordered workshop.”

  The men who had gathered smiled and offered comments about the way she might handle her work. In the doorway behind them, Nils Olsson watched her. Merrill grew uncomfortable.

  “You fellas need more to do?” Carl Jorgenson asked, walking in from the opposite side of the room. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about having a pretty girl join us here.”

  Merrill felt her cheeks grow hot. She ducked her head to avoid them seeing her embarrassment.

  “It was nice to see you today, Miss Krause,” Lars said. “Come on, you oafs,” he called, “back to work.”

  Once they’d left the room, Merrill looked at Carl. “This is perfect. Thank you so much. How soon will you need for me to begin?”

  “Tomorrow, if that’s not too soon. I’ve had the boys putting together pie safes and blanket chests. I thought we might have you trim some of those, as well. A lot of folks like to give them for wedding gifts, so you could make them look appealing for a young lady.”

  “I’d be happy to try.” Merrill was keenly aware of Rurik still standing just behind her and Nils watching from the door.

  “When I mentioned the possibility to one of my buyers, he wanted to take immediate possession of anything we had available,” Carl said with a laugh. “I told him he would have to wait.” The Swedish accent sounded rather raspy, and Carl put a hand to his chest and coughed.

  “I hope he’ll be pleased,” Merrill responded.

  Carl grimaced and straightened. “So you come tomorrow to verk, ja?”

  “Ja,” she said, seeing an expression of pain cross his face. “Mr. Jorgenson, are you all right?”

  Rurik pushed past her and rounded the workbench just as his uncle started to fall. “Nils, get the doctor.” He lifted Carl in his arms. “Merrill, please, would you help me get him to bed?”

  She hurried ahead of him, opening doors. When they reached the house and Carl’s bed, she pulled down the covers and stepped aside for Rurik. He placed his uncle on the mattress and immediately began to loosen his shirt and vest.

 
“Don’t make . . . don’t fuss,” Carl gasped.

  Merrill went to his boots and began to unlace them. “Mr. Jorgenson, you need to lie still. We can handle this. I help my father with his boots all the time.”

  Rurik threw her a grateful look. “Uncle Carl, it’s not everyone who gets an angel to attend them.” He winked at Merrill and went back to work, unbuttoning his uncle’s vest.

  Merrill found it difficult to make her fingers work properly after that. She had not expected such a compliment from Rurik—especially at such a serious time. She supposed he was just trying to ease his uncle’s mind, but the memory of Rurik calling her angelic left her unable to think very well for some time.

  Carl groaned and clutched his chest. “You will pray for me, ja?”

  Merrill wasn’t sure to whom he spoke, but she assured him before Rurik could respond. “I’m already praying, Mr. Jorgenson, and I’ll continue to do so.” She managed to pull off the other boot and placed it on the floor beside the first one. As she straightened, she heard the front door open.

  “That must be the doctor,” she told Carl and patted his hand. “He’ll know what to do for you.”

  Carl forced a smile. “That would be news to me. He hasn’t known how to help me before.”

  Merrill smiled and squeezed his hand. “That’s because I wasn’t here to aid him in figuring you out.” The old man nodded, then the pain gripped him again and he grimaced. Merrill prayed that God would intercede quickly and ease the poor man’s misery.

  She glanced up to find Nils Olsson standing in the hall. The doctor went to Carl’s side and left Merrill little choice but to move away. She didn’t want to leave without knowing whether Carl was going to be all right, but she truly didn’t want to spend any time in Mr. Olsson’s company, either.

  “Mr. Jorgenson, I’m going to go now.” She spoke to Rurik, but it was Carl who opened his eyes and caught her attention.

  “Keep praying,” he murmured.

  “I will,” she said. “I promise. And I’ll be back tomorrow and bring you some treats.”

  She moved quickly past Rurik and Nils. Without waiting for either man to acknowledge her departure, Merrill hurried outside and was halfway across the yard before Nils caught up to her.

  “Let me escort you to where you’re going.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” she said. “Mr. Jorgenson may need you to help with his uncle. It would be best for you to assist him.”

  “But you’re the one I want to be with.”

  Merrill stopped in midstep. “But your friend is in need,” she said firmly. “A true friend would go to his side and offer whatever aid he could.” She hoped the admonition was taken to heart. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Chapter 13

  Dr. Hickum finished listening to the man’s chest and straightened. “Carl, it’s been only a few days since your last attack. Your heart is still weak. It’s always going to be weak.” The doctor took a moment to glance at Rurik, then continued. “You need to forget about going back to work. It’s time for you to let other folks take care of the business and take care of you.”

  “I’m not much good if I can’t do for myself,” Carl murmured.

  “Uncle Carl, you know that isn’t true,” Rurik declared. Standing at the foot of his uncle’s bed, he met the doctor’s grave expression. “I will see to it that he continues to rest.”

  “It’s really the best thing for him. The medicines I have are limited in what they can do. If he takes it easy”—the doctor paused and looked at Carl—“he could live for some time to come.”

  Carl shook his head. “But I would be a burden.”

  “Nonsense,” Rurik interjected. “You will never be a burden to those of us who love you, Uncle Carl. And you can design. You’ve got a great talent for creating furniture, and you know it. I think the doctor would agree that you should rest for now, and when the time comes, you can sit at a table and sketch designs for us.” He looked to the doctor to see if he approved.

  Dr. Hickum smiled. “Why, Carl, that is a perfect solution. The work wouldn’t be taxing, but it would provide just what your business needs.”

  Carl looked unconvinced. “Vat about the office?”

  Rurik thought quickly. “Well, as you know, my friend Nils is here,” he began. “He was visiting our workshop the other day when you had your attack and was the one who fetched Dr. Hickum. He’s handled his father’s dairy farm office for years. I think he could surely manage this one—under your guidance, of course.”

  “See there, Carl. You won’t be a burden at all,” the doctor said as he put his equipment away. “I would limit the amount of time you give to any of these projects, however, for at least a few weeks.”

  “But there are a lot of orders to fill,” Carl argued. “The books . . . they need someone to keep them.”

  “And Nils can manage that,” Rurik reassured him. “You’ll be right here if he has questions. And I will bring you a sketch pad and pencils so you can design to your heart’s content.” Carl said nothing more, and Rurik figured he needed to let the idea sink in for a time.

  “I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” the doctor told Carl and turned to go.

  Rurik touched his uncle’s foot. “I’ll see the doc out and be right back.” Carl stared up at the ceiling.

  Outside, Rurik held the doctor’s horse while he mounted. “Carl’s a stubborn one, but I’ll do what I can to make certain he follows your orders.”

  “If he doesn’t,” the doctor said with a shake of his head, “he won’t live much longer. The attacks are getting worse. My guess is that his heart will simply give out in time. I will check my medical library to see if there’s anything else we might try, but for now, rest is best.”

  Rurik nodded. “He’ll get it. I promise.”

  He waited until the doctor had disappeared before returning to the house. The winter air was damp and heavy with a threat of snow. Rurik made a mental note to check the supply of firewood they had for the house and the shop. He also reasoned that he should probably talk with someone like Granny Lassiter and hire a woman to help with Carl’s care. Someone to cook and clean would give them both a bit of relief for their daily chores. He thought of Merrill but dismissed the idea just as quickly. He liked the idea of keeping her close by in the shop. He was hoping, in fact, to work up the nerve to ask her to the winter party at the church. Hopefully, by then Svea would be back in Kansas.

  “But if that’s to happen,” he muttered aloud, “I’m going to have to speak with Nils.”

  Rurik figured there was no time like the present. He knew Carl would need some time alone to accept his future. It wasn’t easy for a man who had always been hardworking and self-sustaining to learn that he could no longer carry on as he had. His Swedish tenacity alone would try to convince him that the doctor was in error.

  Rurik returned to the house long enough to check on Carl and fetch his coat. “I’ll only be gone a little while. I’m going to speak to Nils about working for us.” Carl remained silent, but Rurik didn’t take offense. “Maybe I’ll bring you one of Granny’s cinnamon rolls, too. She mentioned that I should stop by today and pick some up.”

  Carl seemed to rally just a bit at this, but then closed his eyes. Rurik smiled. His uncle was stubborn—but sensible. Together they would see this through.

  At the hotel, Rurik sent word with the clerk that Nils should meet him in the lobby. It was only a few moments before his friend appeared, coat and hat in hand.

  “You wanted to see me? You should have just come on up to the room.”

  “I wasn’t sure you were here,” Rurik replied. “Take a walk with me. We have much to discuss.”

  Nils nodded and pulled on his coat. “How’s your uncle?”

  “That’s part of the reason I’m here.” Rurik led the way outside. He didn’t really want to discuss the details where they might be overheard. “I know it’s cold out here, but I think it might afford us a bit more privacy if we take a
walk.”

  “It’s no bother to me.”

  They strolled past brick shops and put some distance between the hotel and themselves before Rurik spoke again. “The doctor says that Uncle Carl must not work. At least not as he has in the past. He needs a lot of bed rest—especially during the next few weeks.”

  “I see,” Nils replied, looking to Rurik. “And does this mean you might have a job for me?”

  “Ja. That’s what I’m thinking. Uncle Carl has not said as much, but as his partner I believe it is up to me to manage the situation. He cannot handle the work of keeping the office, so I want you to come and work for us.”

  Nils couldn’t contain his delight. “I’m not at all happy that Carl is suffering, but I do have to say this is a much-needed answer to my problems.”

  “I know. I thought of it as such. We will need you right away, so I’m thinking it would be best if you sent Svea home. You could stay with me at the house. My room isn’t all that big, but we can squeeze in another bed. That way you won’t have to spend the money to stay at the hotel.”

  “That would be good. My money is disappearing fast,” Nils replied. “But honestly, I can’t expect Svea to leave. You shouldn’t either. Not in her condition.”

  “I had nothing to do with her condition, Nils.” Rurik stopped and turned. “That child is not mine. I’ve never been intimate with your sister.”

  “Why would she lie about such a thing, Rurik?”

  “Because she made a mistake? Because she’s ashamed? Because she’s scared? There are any number of reasons for lying about such a matter.”

  “She wouldn’t lie to me,” Nils countered. “There’d be no reason. She knows she’d have no condemnation from me. I think you should do the right thing and marry her. Then you’ll come into your marriage money, and you can get a little house for the both of you and start a family. We can become partners—”

  “I have a partner,” Rurik interrupted. “Or did you forget?”

  Nils shrugged. “You know what I meant.” He took on a more humble appearance and bowed his head slightly. “Rurik, I need this job, and I need your help. I can’t allow Svea to return to Lindsborg and ridicule. You cared about her once; I’m sure you can care about her again.”