The Whole Town's Talking Page 4

  But as more days went by, Katrina realized that something was not quite right. Lordor was perfectly nice and polite, but nothing else. She confided to Birdie Swensen that she was concerned. Birdie told her not to worry, that Lordor was just shy, but Katrina sensed that it was more than that. When they were out together, he seemed to just be going through the motions of courting. She had been there almost three weeks now and not once had he mentioned the word “marriage.” At this point, she didn’t know if she was going to be sent back to Chicago or asked to stay. And now, more than ever, she did not want to leave.

  It hadn’t been the pretty house or the dairy farm or how he had bowed and tipped his hat or the funny way he danced that made her want to stay. It was something else, something totally unexpected.

  She had fallen in love with Lordor Nordstrom on that very first day at the train station. After he had collected and loaded all her baggage, and when he reached for her elbow to help her into the wagon, she could feel that his hands were trembling. It touched her so, it almost broke her heart. There was something so sweet and endearing about this big, strong man caring so much.

  But now she’d begun to suspect he did not feel the same way about her. He was not the same man who had written her such wonderful letters. This man hardly ever said a word. And the more she talked, the more silent he became.

  One afternoon, when they were out for their afternoon ride in his wagon, she finally gathered up all her courage to ask him, even though she was afraid of the answer. “Mr. Nordstrom, have I done something wrong? Are you not pleased with me?”

  Lordor’s big blue eyes flew open. “Not pleased?” He pulled back on the reins and called out, “Whoa!” And when the wagon came to a full stop, he turned to her. “Miss Olsen, I am most pleased. Why do you not think it?”

  “You don’t talk to me. When we are together, you barely say a word. I never know what you’re thinking, and it scares me.”

  Lordor said, “Oh, I see.” He then looked down at his hands, took a deep breath, but still said nothing.

  “Is it me?” she asked. “Tell me, what have I done?”

  He shook his head. “No, no…it’s not you.”

  “What is it, Mr. Nordstrom? You have to tell me. I’ve come all this way.”

  Lordor seemed to be struggling for words, then he blurted it out. “I am afraid for my bad grammar. I knew you were pretty, but I didn’t know how good with words you would be. I don’t talk much because I don’t want you to find out how dumb I am. You might go back to Chicago.”

  Katrina was never so relieved to hear anything in her life, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Lordor,” she said, surprising herself. “I don’t care about that. I just need for you to talk. It’s not how you say anything that matters to me.”

  “Wait. Wait,” he said, putting up his hands. “There is more you should know. I don’t spell so good, neither. Them letters I sent? Mrs. Swensen helped me and spelled out the big words for me.”

  Katrina smiled and shook her head. “I don’t care.”

  Lordor looked at her in disbelief. “For sure?”

  “For sure.”

  “Then you will stay?”

  Katrina started to reply, but then she felt a sudden pang of guilt. He had just been so honest with her. She had to tell him. “Lordor, before I answer, there’s something about me…you need to know. Something I haven’t told you.”

  He seemed surprised. “What?”

  Katrina bit her lip, then slowly opened her purse and took something out of it. “The truth is, Lordor, I don’t see very well…and you might as well know it now.” She then pulled a pair of round black-rimmed glasses out of a velvet pouch, put them on, and turned and faced him. “I wear spectacles….I know how ugly I look, but without them, everything is fuzzy.” She sat and waited for his response.

  Lordor blinked and looked at her. After a long moment of studying her face he said, “Oh no, Katrina, you are wrong. You look very pretty in spectacles…and very smart. I like them.” He then smiled at her. “I like them very much.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No. It’s good for a man to have a smart wife.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but Anna Lee…”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Katrina, answer me this.”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you stay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forever?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Lordor smiled. “Good.”

  As they drove off, both were smiling. That day, Katrina saw Lordor’s face clearly for the first time, and he was even more handsome than she had thought.

  —

  FROM THAT DAY ON, Katrina wore her glasses, and Lordor just about talked her ear off telling her of all his plans for the town, for them, and for their future. Katrina continued to live with the Swensens, and joined in on Birdie’s knitting circle with the other ladies. She was a fast learner and soon was knitting with the best of them.

  After a respectable three months’ time, the Swensens drove with them to the big Lutheran church in Springfield for Katrina and Lordor to get married. When the ceremony was over, Birdie cried, but both Katrina and Lordor breathed a big sigh of relief. After all that waiting, they couldn’t wait to get home and finally begin their new life as man and wife. But things don’t always go as planned.

  —

  THAT NIGHT, WHEN THEY arrived back at their house, it was surrounded by dozens of wagons, mules, and horses, and ablaze with light. The ladies had planned a huge surprise wedding celebration supper and had laid out enough food to feed an army. It was a wonderful party with music and dancing that went on until at least four o’clock in the morning. It was almost daybreak when the last of the hangers-on left. The fiddle player had had too much of Mr. and Mrs. Knott’s beer and had passed out cold. Lordor and Lars had to carry him out to his wagon. Finally, they could begin their first night as man and wife.

  They went upstairs, and Katrina went into the bedroom and changed from her wedding dress into her nightgown while Lordor went into the room down the hall. He changed out of his new black suit with the velvet bow tie and hung it up in the wardrobe. He put on his new cotton blue-striped nightshirt and walked over to the mirror and combed his hair, then sat down and waited for Katrina to invite him to join her. A few minutes later, he heard, “You can come in now.” He walked down the hall and opened the door. She was sitting up in bed, looking so beautiful. They tried acting as calm as possible. Both were nervous.

  Just as Lordor climbed into the large feather bed to join his bride, they heard the front door suddenly crash open with a loud bang. Then they heard the sound of heavy footsteps running through the house and the sound of tables and chairs being violently turned over and the loud clatter of glass breaking, pots and pans crashing to the floor. Whoever it was, was now downstairs in their kitchen going on some sort of mad rampage.

  Lordor grabbed the shotgun he kept by his bed, ready to defend their life against a gang of bandits or worse. Despite his command to Katrina to stay there and lock the bedroom door behind him, she grabbed her glasses and followed him down the stairs, carrying her new silver-handled mirror as a weapon.

  When they reached the kitchen, Lordor kicked the door open and stood ready to fire. But what they saw standing in the middle of all the clutter wasn’t a gang of bandits, or even one bandit. It was the 350-pound pig named Sweet Potato that Henry and Nancy Knott had given them as a wedding present. The pig had managed to break out of her pen, had come up the front stairs, and snouted her way into the house. Sweet Potato, who evidently had no fear of guns or humans, glanced up at the two of them, was not impressed, and continued eating all of the leftover food from the party. She seemed to particularly enjoy the leftover wedding cake and her snout was smeared with white frosting.

  What a colossal mess. She had knocked over everything there was to knock over, rooting around for food. There were broken dishes, chairs, pots and pans everywhere. All of
Katrina’s new china and lovely wedding presents that had been on display in the kitchen, including her new white bedsheets and quilts, were now on the floor and covered with food and small pig hoofprints. It took the two of them more than thirty minutes to get Sweet Potato back outside, down the steps, and over to her pen.

  The sun was up by the time she had been safely locked in. When the ordeal was finally over, and after they had both tried so hard to look nice on their wedding night, they were covered from head to toe in mud and cake. It was so funny, and they laughed so hard, they finally had to sit down on the ground. Every time one would stop laughing for a moment, the other would start again.

  About five minutes later, Ollie Bersen, the hired hand, was on his way to work and saw the two of them, still in their nightclothes, sitting in the front yard, laughing their heads off. Ollie didn’t say anything, but he figured it must have been one wingdinger of a wedding night.

  They must not have seen him, because all of a sudden Lordor leaned in and kissed her right on the lips. The bride must have liked it, because she threw her arms around him and kissed him right back. And in broad daylight, too. From the look of it, things were going well—so well, in fact, that Ollie was afraid to look, for fear of what they might be up to next.

  But being human, once Ollie got safely inside the barn, he couldn’t help but turn and look back just in time to see Lordor scoop Katrina up off the ground and carry her up the front stairs and into the house. Oh, mercy! He figured he wouldn’t see Lordor down at the barn anytime soon, not that day at least.

  —

  EVEN THOUGH SWEET POTATO had almost ruined their wedding night, they had both learned a valuable lesson. No matter how hard you push, cajole, shove, beg, kick, or plead…pigs will not be rushed. Especially while they are eating leftover wedding cake. They also learned that the very best way to start a marriage was with a good laugh. Particularly when the children start coming.

  1890

  Dear Anna Lee,

  I think of you so often. How are you? I write to tell you that I am now a married lady and very happy. Lordor is more than I could have hoped for in a husband and so kind and gentle. Our house is not grand, but the surroundings are so lovely. The back of the house overlooks fields of wheat, barley, and clover. From my front porch, I can see the red barns of the dairy standing on the hills to the left. Every morning, the cows pass by on their way to the fields and back home that way at dusk. Oh, Anna Lee, if you could only see it, you would think you were home again.

  Tell that boyfriend of yours that once called me a country mouse, that he was right. It is so quiet here on the farm. Lordor and I are asleep at dark and up at daybreak. But I love it.

  I do hope you are happy and well, dear friend. Write and tell me so.

  Love,

  Katrina

  P.S. Lordor likes my glasses. Isn’t that wonderful?

  Lordor and Katrina had been lucky. Over the years, the mail-order bride business had been fraught with pitfalls and disappointments. Some women traveled all the way from Europe, then spent months in a covered wagon, only to find that the man who met them at the other end was not the same man in the photograph sent, nor did he own a house and land as he had claimed.

  Conversely, some men sent all their money to purchase the pretty young bride in the photograph, only to have the lady arrive months later, weighing many more pounds and years older than the photograph sent would suggest.

  On both sides, it was a desperate game of chance. But, surprisingly, many marriages did work out, and the results helped populate the country with a hardy and adventurous stock. People were willing to travel anywhere, sacrifice anything, to own their own land, to be free and be independent.

  —

  KATRINA AND LORDOR’S FIRST YEAR together flew by. The house was becoming a real home, with white frilly curtains in the windows, rugs on the floor, and pictures on the wall. But most of all, Lordor and Katrina were happy together. She couldn’t wait for him to come home from work, and he couldn’t wait to get there. When they were out in public, he sat and stared at her with a stupid grin on his face. As Mrs. Tildholme said, “I’ve never seen two people act so silly over each other in all my life.”

  And Lordor had been right about Katrina. From the start, Katrina wasn’t very strong physically, but she was brave and determined. The money she sent home had not been much, but it had kept her family from starving. Now, thankfully, her younger brother Olaf was old enough to get a farm job. Her next step was to try and get them all to America. She had promised her mother she would if she possibly could.

  My Dearest Momma,

  Thank you so much for your last letter. I am so glad the presents reached you in time. I am sure that little Brigette made a very lovely St. Lucia for the Christmas celebration. Tell her how proud I am that she was chosen.

  We had a wonderful Christmas here as well. It was almost like being home. We even had a little snow. Mrs. Eggstrom and several of the other ladies prepared the Christmas Eve julbord over at the meeting hall. I brought lussekatters and your gingerbread cookies. Lordor and the men found the most beautiful big cedar Christmas tree and decorated it with candles and flags and little straw animals. At midnight, we lit all the candles and sang Swedish Christmas carols and fed the birds on Christmas Day, so I know we will have good luck all year round.

  Oh, Momma, there is a part of me that misses home so much. We are all so very far away. But as you can see, Sweden is still in my heart, as are you.

  Your loving daughter,

  Katrina

  P.S. My neighbor, Birdie Swensen, is teaching me how to knit. Hopefully, I will be able to send you a warm sweater next year.

  Dear Katrina,

  Thank you for your letter. I was beginning to think a bear had eaten you or that you had forgotten old Chicago and me. Now I know why you don’t write. Hard to believe my little friend is now a mother. Congratulations to you. I know your husband must be happy it is a boy. I do like the name of Lordor Theodore Nordstrom. It is a good one.

  We all sure miss you.

  The new girl they hired to take your place is Dagmar Jensen from Gutenberg, and she looks it! She sits and eats and cries all night because her husband don’t write. I saw his photograph. Ah! Such a big fat block of cheese.

  All the boys here still ask where’d you go, and I tell them you are an old farmer’s wife now. Not much news here, except that I have the keenest new boyfriend. His name is Hector, and he works as a ticket taker at the new Hippodrome. Me and all my friends get in free. He doesn’t have much money, but he has dash and is a real snappy dresser. Write to me again, will you? And come visit me sometime, before you get old and gray. Ha. Ha.

  Anna Lee

  In big cities, neighbors are nice to say hello to or maybe socialize with once in a while, but in small Missouri farming communities, neighbors were much more important than that. You depended on them for your very survival. It didn’t matter if you liked some more than others. They were your neighbors. And in Lordor’s community, considering they had all come from different places, and even the Swedish had come from different parts of Sweden, they were a pretty harmonious group.

  Women as neighbors depended on each other for advice in cooking and raising children and for conversation. The men didn’t need much conversation, but they did need help from one another. In the beginning, if money was scarce, they swapped crops, and Lordor provided free milk for the children and cheese and butter for the adults in exchange for hay and wheat to feed his horses and cows.

  In 1895, when the Swensens’ barn burned, the men all pulled together and had another one up in less than a week. And the next winter, when Katrina was so sick with childbed fever, Lars Swensen had ridden all night in a snowstorm to bring the doctor and, according to him, had saved her life. And no thanks were needed or expected. He knew Lordor would have done the same for him. And when they gave a dinner to raise money to build a silo, the Knotts donated a pig to be roasted, Birdie Swensen gave twenty
of her chickens, and Mrs. Lindquist made the pies. Katrina baked the bread and the almond tart and brought cheese and coffee. It was a good dinner. Katrina loved the fried chicken. But since the pig had been a close relative of Sweet Potato’s, she passed on the roasted pork dish. It was a friendly and welcoming community, but there came a time when that was sorely put to the test.

  In May 1897, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Mims came and settled in on a plot of land and then proceeded to borrow money from just about everyone to build their house. As time went by, it became clear the man was a drunk and of as low a moral character as they had ever seen. The wife was no better. When Henry Knott came to their house to inquire about a payment on a loan, she informed him she had ways to repay the debt, other than money, and nearly scared him to death. He ran out of the house so fast, he tripped over his own shoes trying to get back home to Mrs. Knott. They gave the couple another year, but no crops were planted nor debts paid. Lordor called a meeting.

  One night, a few weeks later, while the couple was enjoying an unexpected invitation for a free supper at the Knott farm, their entire house was quietly being taken apart, board by board, nail by nail, and neatly packed in a wagon, along with all their belongings. By the time they got home, there was nothing but a packed wagon sitting in the middle of an empty lot. They got the hint and took off and never came back.

  Nobody talked about it. It wasn’t anything they were proud of, but as Lars Swensen said to his wife, “Sometimes, Birdie, you just have to take the worm out of the apple.”

  Katrina not only made Lordor a good wife and everyone a kind and dependable neighbor, she also helped grow the community with their own two children, first Teddy and then a little girl named Ingrid, in honor of Katrina’s mother.