Read Online A Measure of Mercy by Lauraine Snelling - Free Book Online
Authors: Lauraine Snelling
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to be very clear on this.”
“Maybe you need to just keep moving forward and let Him open or close doors as He sees fit.” Grace used her hands to sign at the same time, as if her feelings couldn’t be said fast or firm enough with only her mouth. “He sure did for me.”
Astrid set her chair to rocking, nodding with it. “I haven’t said no, so perhaps I should just go ahead. I won’t die of homesickness. After all, it is only six months.”
“When would you leave?”
“Mid-August.”
“We’d be leaving about the same time, then.” She picked up her glass for another drink. “Let’s go change, and I’ll fix your hair if you do mine.”
“Maybe we can braid ribbons in. I have new ones up in my room.” The two made their way upstairs, where they had hung their dresses after pressing them.
“You better hurry,” Ingeborg called up after them. “I told Andrew we’d come and finish setting up the tables.”
“We will.” They slipped out of their calico dresses, and after hanging them on hooks along the wall, Grace sat down on the bench in front of the dressing table and shook her hair loose from the snood she’d bundled it in for the trip.
Astrid picked up the brush and began brushing, her fingers working any tangles out as she brushed.
“Oh, that feels so good. I don’t think anyone has brushed my hair since you did it last.”
“You don’t get together with the other teachers like we used to at our girl parties?”
“No. I’m the youngest on staff, and some of the others are married. My closest friend is Olivia, and she wears her hair short.”
“Like I saw in the magazine?”
“Yes. She says it is much easier to care for.”
“Well, she misses out on brushing, then.” Laying down the brush, Astrid divided the hair, picked up a blue ribbon, and began braiding it in with the hair. When finished with the braids, she wrapped them in a figure eight at the back of Grace’s head and pinned them in place. She handed Grace a hand mirror. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful. You want yours the same?”
“Of course. Just like we used to. Remember when Sophie cut her hair in a fringe?”
Grace nodded. “Only Sophie. But now many women are wearing a fringe or wrapping their hair around a rattail and wearing it poofed up in front.”
“I tried it, but I didn’t like it.”
When they descended the stairs, Astrid in blue dimity with white daisies and Grace in yellow with darker ribbon trim, they found Ingeborg packing the last of the food in the boxes and baskets, ready to load the wagon.
“You two look like flowers right out of the garden,” she said, handing Astrid a basket. “Put this right behind the seat.”
----
SOMETIME LATER, INGEBORG surveyed the barn to make sure everything was just right. Fried chicken filled the white-dotted, blueenameled roasting pan sitting in the middle of the table. So many platters, bowls, and plates covered the table that the white sheet could only be seen down the sides. Desserts covered another table. Both tables were made of long boards held up by sawhorses. Chunks of ice floated in a tub of red punch, along with fresh strawberry and lemon slices.
“It looks great,” Kaaren Knutson said, stopping beside her dear friend and sister-in-law. They both watched the musicians tuning up at the piano, which had been hauled over from the schoolhouse and drawn by pulleys up the ramp to the haymow through the big front door. “I feared they’d drop that piano for sure.”
“If you want something done right, ask those men of ours. They’ll do it every time.”
Lars had his fiddle out of the case and was tightening the strings. Haakan was putting the gut bucket together: an old washtub turned upside down with a rope running from a hole in the washtub up to the end of a rake handle. Plucking the rope and moving the rake handle gave the different tones.
Since Joseph Baard died, they’d not had a guitar at the community events. Tonight Joshua
“Maybe you need to just keep moving forward and let Him open or close doors as He sees fit.” Grace used her hands to sign at the same time, as if her feelings couldn’t be said fast or firm enough with only her mouth. “He sure did for me.”
Astrid set her chair to rocking, nodding with it. “I haven’t said no, so perhaps I should just go ahead. I won’t die of homesickness. After all, it is only six months.”
“When would you leave?”
“Mid-August.”
“We’d be leaving about the same time, then.” She picked up her glass for another drink. “Let’s go change, and I’ll fix your hair if you do mine.”
“Maybe we can braid ribbons in. I have new ones up in my room.” The two made their way upstairs, where they had hung their dresses after pressing them.
“You better hurry,” Ingeborg called up after them. “I told Andrew we’d come and finish setting up the tables.”
“We will.” They slipped out of their calico dresses, and after hanging them on hooks along the wall, Grace sat down on the bench in front of the dressing table and shook her hair loose from the snood she’d bundled it in for the trip.
Astrid picked up the brush and began brushing, her fingers working any tangles out as she brushed.
“Oh, that feels so good. I don’t think anyone has brushed my hair since you did it last.”
“You don’t get together with the other teachers like we used to at our girl parties?”
“No. I’m the youngest on staff, and some of the others are married. My closest friend is Olivia, and she wears her hair short.”
“Like I saw in the magazine?”
“Yes. She says it is much easier to care for.”
“Well, she misses out on brushing, then.” Laying down the brush, Astrid divided the hair, picked up a blue ribbon, and began braiding it in with the hair. When finished with the braids, she wrapped them in a figure eight at the back of Grace’s head and pinned them in place. She handed Grace a hand mirror. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful. You want yours the same?”
“Of course. Just like we used to. Remember when Sophie cut her hair in a fringe?”
Grace nodded. “Only Sophie. But now many women are wearing a fringe or wrapping their hair around a rattail and wearing it poofed up in front.”
“I tried it, but I didn’t like it.”
When they descended the stairs, Astrid in blue dimity with white daisies and Grace in yellow with darker ribbon trim, they found Ingeborg packing the last of the food in the boxes and baskets, ready to load the wagon.
“You two look like flowers right out of the garden,” she said, handing Astrid a basket. “Put this right behind the seat.”
----
SOMETIME LATER, INGEBORG surveyed the barn to make sure everything was just right. Fried chicken filled the white-dotted, blueenameled roasting pan sitting in the middle of the table. So many platters, bowls, and plates covered the table that the white sheet could only be seen down the sides. Desserts covered another table. Both tables were made of long boards held up by sawhorses. Chunks of ice floated in a tub of red punch, along with fresh strawberry and lemon slices.
“It looks great,” Kaaren Knutson said, stopping beside her dear friend and sister-in-law. They both watched the musicians tuning up at the piano, which had been hauled over from the schoolhouse and drawn by pulleys up the ramp to the haymow through the big front door. “I feared they’d drop that piano for sure.”
“If you want something done right, ask those men of ours. They’ll do it every time.”
Lars had his fiddle out of the case and was tightening the strings. Haakan was putting the gut bucket together: an old washtub turned upside down with a rope running from a hole in the washtub up to the end of a rake handle. Plucking the rope and moving the rake handle gave the different tones.
Since Joseph Baard died, they’d not had a guitar at the community events. Tonight Joshua
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