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Authors: Lauraine Snelling
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persisted.
Ingeborg hesitated only for a moment, and then the words came out in a rush. “I promised to pay the grocer for the apple Thorliff was given, but I have no money, and Roald insists it is nothing. Herefuses to go back and pay, and I gave my word.” She sighed and turned her back to the window. “What to do?” She felt the weight of the worry sitting right on her shoulders. How could one red apple cause so much trouble?
“I have some money. I will give you what you need,” Kaaren offered.
“You do?”
“My mor believes a woman should have something of her own for times of emergency. She made sure that when Carl and I married, I had a bit also.”
“But that is yours. I cannot take it.”
“Ours. With all that you have done for me, I now can give something in return.” Kaaren started to rise from the chair, but Ingeborg waved her back. “I know, save my strength. There, in the bottom of that black leather valise is a drawstring purse. Carl changed the money for me at the Castle Garden.”
“He knows you have it?”
Kaaren nodded. “But he won’t mind in the least. In fact, we can ask him to go pay it.”
Ingeborg shook her head. “No, he and Roald have much to do today. I will not bother him.” She pulled the jingling bag from the valise and poured the coins into her palm. “Surely it can be no more than two or three of these copper coins.” She slipped them into her own pouch and, after pulling the strings closed, buried the small bag back in Kaaren’s valise. “Mange takk. I can’t tell you how much. I will return these as soon as I am able.”
“Don’t be silly. Maybe we’ll find that street paved with gold and fill the poor bag right up.” Kaaren crossed her ankles and clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, the luxury of being on land again. I don’t think I’ll ever even want to go out in a rowboat on a lake.” She paused and stared at Ingeborg. “How will you return to pay the grocer?”
When Ingeborg refused to look at her, Kaaren swung her feet to the floor. “You cannot think to be going yourself!” The sound of her fear set the babe to whimpering.
“See now, you must not get all upset. We will talk about that later.” At the conversation, the baby screwed up her face and let out a wail that nearly covered the sound of the door opening.
“It appears to me someone around here feels plenty better,” Roald said while handing two crusty loaves of still-warm bread to Ingeborg. “I see Carl was able to buy some milk.”
“And eggs.” Kaaren’s soft sigh floated like a prayer.
“Carl and Thorliff went downstairs to see if Mrs. Flaksrude would let him cook them in the kitchen.” Ingeborg lifted one of the loaves to her face and inhaled the aroma. “They’d best hurry back or I shall eat all of this myself.” The temptation to break off just a bit of one end made her fingers twitch. The fragrance tasted of heaven. Soon she would be baking her own bread again, in her own house, on their own land.
She glanced up to see Roald watching her with his eyebrows nearly meeting in a straight line, a line that always spelled a scolding. What had she done wrong now?
“That is for everyone and should last until supper tonight.” Roald removed his coat and hung it on one of the nails by the door.
Ingeborg caught her reply before it passed her lips and nodded instead. “Of course.” Didn’t he understand she was teasing? When would she learn that her husband, fine man that he was, didn’t make jokes? And didn’t seem to appreciate it when others did.
She glanced at Kaaren and saw her grin before she ducked her head in the baby’s blanket. At least someone else could see some humor in their situation.
“Far, Far, we cooked the eggs.” Thorliff burst through the door and flung himself at his father’s pant legs. “Onkel Carl said we each get one. A whole egg!” He stared up at his father, his round little face beaming in delight. “No more of that nasty
Ingeborg hesitated only for a moment, and then the words came out in a rush. “I promised to pay the grocer for the apple Thorliff was given, but I have no money, and Roald insists it is nothing. Herefuses to go back and pay, and I gave my word.” She sighed and turned her back to the window. “What to do?” She felt the weight of the worry sitting right on her shoulders. How could one red apple cause so much trouble?
“I have some money. I will give you what you need,” Kaaren offered.
“You do?”
“My mor believes a woman should have something of her own for times of emergency. She made sure that when Carl and I married, I had a bit also.”
“But that is yours. I cannot take it.”
“Ours. With all that you have done for me, I now can give something in return.” Kaaren started to rise from the chair, but Ingeborg waved her back. “I know, save my strength. There, in the bottom of that black leather valise is a drawstring purse. Carl changed the money for me at the Castle Garden.”
“He knows you have it?”
Kaaren nodded. “But he won’t mind in the least. In fact, we can ask him to go pay it.”
Ingeborg shook her head. “No, he and Roald have much to do today. I will not bother him.” She pulled the jingling bag from the valise and poured the coins into her palm. “Surely it can be no more than two or three of these copper coins.” She slipped them into her own pouch and, after pulling the strings closed, buried the small bag back in Kaaren’s valise. “Mange takk. I can’t tell you how much. I will return these as soon as I am able.”
“Don’t be silly. Maybe we’ll find that street paved with gold and fill the poor bag right up.” Kaaren crossed her ankles and clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, the luxury of being on land again. I don’t think I’ll ever even want to go out in a rowboat on a lake.” She paused and stared at Ingeborg. “How will you return to pay the grocer?”
When Ingeborg refused to look at her, Kaaren swung her feet to the floor. “You cannot think to be going yourself!” The sound of her fear set the babe to whimpering.
“See now, you must not get all upset. We will talk about that later.” At the conversation, the baby screwed up her face and let out a wail that nearly covered the sound of the door opening.
“It appears to me someone around here feels plenty better,” Roald said while handing two crusty loaves of still-warm bread to Ingeborg. “I see Carl was able to buy some milk.”
“And eggs.” Kaaren’s soft sigh floated like a prayer.
“Carl and Thorliff went downstairs to see if Mrs. Flaksrude would let him cook them in the kitchen.” Ingeborg lifted one of the loaves to her face and inhaled the aroma. “They’d best hurry back or I shall eat all of this myself.” The temptation to break off just a bit of one end made her fingers twitch. The fragrance tasted of heaven. Soon she would be baking her own bread again, in her own house, on their own land.
She glanced up to see Roald watching her with his eyebrows nearly meeting in a straight line, a line that always spelled a scolding. What had she done wrong now?
“That is for everyone and should last until supper tonight.” Roald removed his coat and hung it on one of the nails by the door.
Ingeborg caught her reply before it passed her lips and nodded instead. “Of course.” Didn’t he understand she was teasing? When would she learn that her husband, fine man that he was, didn’t make jokes? And didn’t seem to appreciate it when others did.
She glanced at Kaaren and saw her grin before she ducked her head in the baby’s blanket. At least someone else could see some humor in their situation.
“Far, Far, we cooked the eggs.” Thorliff burst through the door and flung himself at his father’s pant legs. “Onkel Carl said we each get one. A whole egg!” He stared up at his father, his round little face beaming in delight. “No more of that nasty
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