“Karl, I think it's time I told you about Boston, all about Boston.”
“I do not want to hear it. I have heard enough about Boston to last me a lifetime. I hate the word.”
“If you hate it, imagine what I feel when I talk about it.”
“Then do not!”
“I must. Because if I don't, you'll never understand about my mother.”
“It is not your mother who disappointed me, Anna, it was you.”
“But she's part of it, Karl. You have to know about her to understand me.”
When he sat silently, she took it for assent. Gulping a shaky breath, she began.
“She never had much time for us. We were only two of her miscalculations, two of her mistakes. And in her profession, we were the biggest mistakes she could have made. She never let us forget it. “Where are those two brats of mine now?' she'd holler, until everybody who knew us took to calling us Barbara's Brats.
“We were never told for sure, but it didn't take much figuring to know that it's a pretty slim chance James and I are even full brother and sister. Chances are we had different fathers. But where we came from, that didn't matter to us. We learned early to depend on each other. Nobody else gave us support of any kind, so we got it from just ourselves.
“You were right about something else, Karl. She never wanted us calling her 'mother' for fear it'd scare away her customers. She needed to look young and act young to keep the men interested. Sometimes, we'd forget and call her mom, and she'd fly into a rage. The last time it happened was when I was about ten or eleven, I think. One of the other women had given me a cast-off feather for my hair, and I went running to her to tell her about it.
“That's the first time I ever saw . . . saw Saul. He was with her when I went charging outside as she came home, calling her. Only, I was so excited, I forgot to call her Barbara. When she heard me saying 'ma' she tied into me right there in front of that man. Strangely enough, it proved one thing—she wouldn't lose her customers as quick as she thought, once they learned she had two kids.
“Saul was around from that time on, more than I'd have liked him to be. He watched and waited while I grew up, only I never knew he was waiting until I was about fifteen or so. That's when I started staying out of his way. You don't grow up in a place like that without knowing the hungry look on a man's face at too young an age.
“It was about that same time Barbara got the disease all women of her profession fear. She went downhill really fast, and lost her looks, her strength and her customers. After she died, her friends—if you want to call them that—let James and me stay at the place nights. But when the rooms were full, they sent us packing. That's why I knew what the inside of St. Mark's looked like. We holed up there when there was no place else to go. At least nobody threw us out of there.
“We did look for work, Karl, honest we did. I used to keep the women's dresses mended at the place—they always had to have their clothes just so, of course—and that's how I learned a little seamwork. They paid me a little to do it, but not nearly enough. When I started writing to you, that's why I told you I was a seamstress. It was the only thing I could think of.
“And you guessed right about the dresses, too. They're cast-offs from the ladies. They were better than nothing, so I took them. I guess you understand now why I'd rather wear James' britches.
“Well, we hung on by our teeth, James and I. Then he started picking pockets and stealing food from the market stalls, and the ladies at the house were starting to encourage me to join their ranks.
“It was about then that James found your advertisement in the paper. It seemed like the first lucky break we'd ever had in our lives. And when you actually answered his first letter, we couldn't believe something had finally gone our way. We knew perfectly well I was no prime candidate for your wife. But all we could think of to do was to lie about my qualifications until I got to you and it was too late for you to do anything but accept.
“Naturally, I was afraid to tell you I had a brother. I had enough strikes against me without saddling you with that fact, too. I was afraid you would say all the things you did say that first day when you realized he was with me—he's an extra mouth to feed, an extra body to clothe, but mostly, he's an invasion of your privacy. The men I've seen all my life always liked their privacy. Both James and I knew that from the time we were tykes. When the men came, we went! I only knew I couldn't leave him.
“So James and I set out to get him here to you without your guessing he was coming along. My problem was that you mailed money for only my passage, and I had no way to earn his. He's thirteen and growing like a weed, out of his clothes almost overnight. I managed with my cast-offs, but there was nobody to hand things down to James. He needed boots, britches, shirts and passage money. But the time came for us to leave, and I didn't have it.
“He . . .” Anna took a shuddering breath. “He was a very rich man, Saul was. He'd hung around after Barbara died, and I knew one of the reasons was me.” All this time Anna had been sitting with her nightgown hugged against her front, draped down at her back. Now, she pulled it up and clutched it protectively closed.
Behind her, Karl put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers folding over into the shallow well in front. “Don't, Anna.”
But she had to finish. If she wanted Karl to forgive her, he had to know exactly what it was he was forgiving her for.
“I got word to him, and he came in that red leather shay of his, thinking his money made him desirable. But I had hated him for as long as I could remember, and that day was no different, only worse.”
From behind, Karl could tell when she started to cry softly again. “Don't,” he whispered fiercely, reaching an arm high across the front of her, grasping her upper arm. His forearm rested against her throat, and he felt her swallow. He pulled her back against him, against the lurching pity in his heart, holding her with the steel band of his arm, willing her to stop saying things he did not want to hear.
“He paid for the use of one of the rooms that had been our only home all our lives, James and mine. When he took me into it, I knew all the others knew and I wanted to scream I was not like them, not at all. But there was nothing else I could do. I thought if I was lucky, some last-minute miracle would save me, but there was no miracle. He was big and overweight and his hands were sweaty and he kept saying how long it had been since he'd had a virgin and how much he would pay me and he . . . he—”
“Anna, stop, please stop! Why do you go on?”
“Because you have to know. Even though I agreed to do it, I did it against my will. You have to know how sick it made me feel! You have to know it was horrible and joyless and painful and degrading and when it was done I wanted to die. Instead, I took his money and came to you, bringing my brother along.
“When I got here, even though you seemed a gentle and kind person, Karl, I went through the whole thing again, worrying about how it would hurt, how awful it would be again. Only it was none of those things, Karl. With you, it was wholesome and good. With you it made . . . it made more of me instead of less. Oh, Karl, with you I was learning. You have to believe me. You taught me, you took away my fear, and you made it all beautiful. And when it was all over, I was so relieved you didn't guess the truth about me.”
They allowed silence to settle over them. Thick, unwanted thoughts were their companions, too, as they sat on the edge of the bed with Karl's arm still clasped across Anna's chest.
She felt sapped, overcome by a weariness that made the work of the cabin or the garden pale by comparison. Her head fell forward, and her lips came to rest upon the thick muscle of Karl's forearm, feeling the silken hairs and the firmness beneath them. How long it had been since her lips had touched him.
His voice, when at last it came, was slow, tired, in a way defeated. “Anna, I understand better now. But I must ask you to understand about me, too, about the way I was raised to believe, and the way my mama and papa were. It was a far different upbringing than yours. The rules I
lived by were rules that did not allow for a way of life such as your mother's to exist. I was as old as you are now before I knew about such existence, Anna. Now, I have learned so much so fast about you and James. I must sift it all through and get used to it. To come up against such truths about you puts battles inside me, and I must find my answers. I need some time, Anna. I ask you to give me more time, Anna.” He had the urge to kiss her hair, but could not make himself do it. The pictures she had just drawn were too fresh and hurting. They had opened wounds, which needed healing.
“James kept telling me you were a fair man, that I should tell you everything at once—all the truth, I mean. But James doesn't know about all this.”
“He is a good lad. I have never been sorry a day that you brought him to me.”
“Whatever it takes, Karl, to make you feel the same about me, I'll do it. I'm not very good at most things around here, but I'll try hard to learn.” Anna could not help thinking of the golden-haired Kerstin, braided and spotless and capable and Swedish. And . . . in all likelihood . . . a virgin. All those things Karl might have had in a wife if only he'd waited another month before bringing Anna here.
He sighed heavily. “I know you will, Anna. You already have. You have learned much, and you try as hard as the boy does. I can see that for myself.”
“But that's not enough, is it?”
For an answer Karl only squeezed her arm, then removed his own from around her. “We must get some sleep, Anna. This day has been too long.”
“All right, Karl,” she said meekly.
“Come, get in and try to go to sleep.” He held back the cover, and she slid to her side. Then he slipped his clothes off and lay on his back with a weary sigh. These days, Karl wore his underwear to bed like armor.
For Anna, it was not the bite of the mosquitoes alone that kept her awake. It was also the bite of regret.
Chapter Sixteen
If Anna and Karl had not reached a reconciliation, they had at least reached a status quo, which they maintained all through the following day. Anna's unvarnished truth about Boston was a laying down of arms after which she waited for full amnesty. But Karl was biding his time, thinking over everything she had said, trying to accept it.
He took Anna and James fishing. It was the perfect activity Karl needed to give himself time to think. They spent a day that was, in Karl's estimation, far from unpleasant, all but for Anna's mosquito bites. He credited her sour mood to her discomforts at the gnawing itch as her body reacted to the toxins it was unaccustomed to, being an Easterner. It didn't help Anna's disposition any when Karl told her the longer she lived here, the greater would be her body's immunity to the bites. But by midday the bites were itching like scabies. She tried saleratus paste again, but it did little good. Finally, by late afternoon when raw spots were beginning to appear on her skin from the continued scratching, Karl took pity on her and announced he would walk over to ask Two Horns' wife what could be done to relieve Anna's bites.
He came back carrying a sheaf of Indian corn, which he shucked, shelled, then ground in a spice quern. He scrubbed a flat spade until it was perfectly clean, then sprinkled the grains of ground corn upon it and laid it in the coals until the kernels were dancing from the heat. Then he took a cold flatiron and pressed the hot corn until it emitted a light, pleasant-smelling oil. When the oil cooled, he instructed Anna to put it on her skin.
But he didn't volunteer to help her reach the bites on her back. She had to ask him, which annoyed her. He knew darn well she couldn't reach them! Standing with her shirt raised up, holding it behind her neck, she heard Karl say behind her, “Two Horns' wife said to tell Tonka Woman to soak Indian tobacco in water and wash with it the next time she goes berry picking, then the mosquitoes will not bite her.”
“I hope you told her it won't be necessary because Tonka Woman will not be quite as anxious to pick berries from now on.”
When they went to bed, Anna was sorry for her cutting remark. To make up for it she thanked Karl for going to the Indians and finding out about the corn oil. She thought maybe he would kiss her lightly and say it was no trouble.
He only said, “The Indians have an answer for everything. Goodnight, Anna.”
She wondered angrily if the Indians had an answer for a husband who was so stubborn he would not bend! She had apologized, explained, appealed, and still he would not forgive her. His polite consideration was killing her!
Damn him and his corn oil! She didn't want his corn oil, she wanted his sweat! And she wanted it on her own skin!
The following day when the Johansons came, as promised, to help with the Lindstroms' cabin, Anna was ripe with irritability. After Karl's dismissive goodnight the evening before, she had alternately hated him and herself. She had worried about what an inept little nincompoop she would seem when it came time to prepare food for the battalion of people. She worried about what a tomboy she looked like next to Kerstin with her impeccable grooming. She worried about how Irish she looked next to Kerstin's blonde Swedishness. She worried about how English she sounded next to all the Johansons.
But Katrene and Kerstin took one look at her the following day, and the first of her worries was solved. She looked so pitiful with her blotched skin now scabbing in places, her hands still a mess from prairie dig, they said she was to let them prepare the meal and do the work around the kitchen. Watching the pair of Swedish women perform in her kitchen as if they were born to it, Anna felt once again clumsy, stupid and more cranky than ever. She allowed them full sway, taking over the smaller duties.
Katrene suggested that Anna try a mixture of warm beeswax and sweet oil on her hands, making Anna again feel guilty at her irritability with the well-meaning woman. When Anna said she didn't know if Karl had any sweet oil, Kerstin at once said, “If he does not, you just come to me and I will give you some.” Anna's defenses crumbled with her generous offer. Kerstin was a warm lady, thoroughly undeserving of the mental acerbations Anna had been heaping upon her.
“Thank you, Kerstin. You're always helping me out of one scrape or another.”
“This is what neighbors are for.”
After that, Anna and the women spent a more pleasant day in conversation about countless things.
Meanwhile the men labored outside, completing the work on the shingles and the floors. At the end of the day the fiddle was tuned again, and the dancing christened yet another floor. Even the dancing annoyed Anna, though. Again, she felt second-rate next to the other females. Moreover, when Karl danced with her, he held his distance, as if she would burn him or something. She could only sizzle in silence.
What does he think? That my sinfulness will rub off on him if he gets too close? she thought.
They were catching their breaths between dances when Katrene asked, “When will you move in, Karl?”
“Not till the windows are installed and the door is on.”
“Windows!” Katrene exclaimed.
“Are you going to have windows?” Nedda asked. “Glass windows?”
“Of course I will have windows, just as soon as I make the trip to Long Prairie to buy the sashes and panes,” declared Karl.
This was a complete surprise to Anna. She had assumed they would have the same opaque sort as in the sod house. Karl had never mentioned he intended to get glass windows.
“Oh, how lucky you are, Anna,” Kerstin said, obviously impressed.
Of all the luxuries on the frontier, the glass window was the greatest. It was no secret how the Indians could not even believe such a thing as a pane a person could see right through. The Indians spent hours staring into any glass window they came upon with the greatest of awe.
“I should say you are lucky,” Kerstin's mother echoed. “I would think I was living in a castle if Olaf bought me glass windows.”
“You did not tell me you wanted glass windows when we came through Long Prairie, Mother,” Olaf said.
“I thought they would cost more money than we should spend.”
r /> “But I asked you what it was you wanted when we were there. You should have said, 'Glass windows, Olaf.'“ He winked at Nedda who winked back. “If your mother plays her cards right, she could get glass windows yet.”
“Olaf Johanson, you are teasing me! Have you decided we will have glass windows?”
“No, I think I ride along with Karl just to take the air.”
“Olaf Johanson, you are a stubborn Swede if I ever saw one. You know I hinted about windows when I was in Long Prairie.” But she was laughing in her usual merry way.
“But I did not think we would have neighbors to keep up with then.”
She went after him with a fist raised to his head, and when the tussle was over they were dancing again to their son's fiddle.
In bed later Anna said quietly, “Karl?”
“Hm?”
She imitated Katrene Johanson's Swedish accent as she said. “You-u-u did not tell me vee vould haff glass vindows.”
“You did not ask me,” he answered. There was a smile in his voice, but still he remained aloof.
Anna's attempt to win him with humor was unsuccessful, and her impatience grew. Once again it came to matter very much that Katrene and Kerstin had done a much better job than Anna could ever dream of doing in her own kitchen.
A trip to town was not made without due planning. The ride was long and was not made often. Summer was drawing to a close. Though they were anxious to have their glass windows, one did not make the trip after them without taking care of all other vital business in Long Prairie at the same time. And so the harvesting must come first.
Karl's wheat crop was ripe and needed cradling so he could take it to the mill to have their winter supply of flour ground while he was in town. Wild rice and cranberries were cash crops readily available on Karl's land. Cranberries in particular were in demand in the East and brought a dollar a bushel, compared to the fourteen cents a bushel brought in by potatoes. Potatoes, therefore, were kept for the family's own winter use, along with turnips and rutabagas, all of which could be dug up later. The cash crops and table grains must be harvested first.