Dakota Dream by Lauraine Snelling

nothing.
    “It reminds me of Esau and Jacob.” Mrs. Norgaard sighed and a pause deepened. “I don’t know, God worked a miracle for those two brothers of so long ago and I pray the same can happen today.”
    “You’ve prayed for them?”
    “Oh, for years. The elder and I struck up a friendship back when he was a lad and was helping me in my garden. My Einer was much too busy in the bank to dig up the garden and help prune the trees. We never had children. Sometimes I wonder if God didn’t trust us enough to take good care of them.”
    “Oh, no.” Clara bit back any more of a response, afraid she would halt the flow of gentle and dreamy words.
    “So I made it a habit to acquaint myself with the village children and help where I could. One of my girls attended teachers’ school in Fargo and one young man has finished medical school. Dr. Harmon keeps hoping this young man will return to North Dakota where we need doctors so desperately.” Silence again.
    “I receive letters from others who have married and moved away. They all were so special to me, not that I spoiled them, you know. I just made sure that if they wanted to do more with their lives, they could.”
    Clara drew a bit of flannel from her pocket and blew her nose. “And the younger brother?”
    “I haven’t seen him in a long time. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say, but then I have to remember my Lord’s commands and pray forgiveness both for my bad thoughts and his bad actions.” The clock chimed from the top of the six-drawer chest.
    “You must go to bed now, my dear. Thank you for listening to an old woman’s ramblings.”
    Clara bent over and brushed a kiss on Mrs. Norgaard’s forehead. “ Mange takk .”
    “God bless.”
    I have to help him. Clara lay in bed and stared upward at the canopy she could barely discern. How can I? What can I do? He won‘t even talk to me.
    She waited for heavenly inspiration.
    The clock chimed the quarter hour.
    An owl hooted out in the backyard.
    “How, God, how?”

Chapter 8
    Clara woke with the same thought. As she hurried through her morning ablutions, she ignored the gray skies without and the gray cloud within. How could someone have mistreated a young boy so? Especially the woman who agreed to be his mother.
    And what could be done now?
    No wonderful solutions had come to her during the night. Was she expecting too quick an answer to her prayers? She brushed her hair, frustration lending vigor to her brush strokes. Mrs. Norgaard said she’d been praying for years . . . and nothing. The lilt had left Clara’s voice when she answered the summoning bell. Along with the snap in her step.
    Shortly after dinner, the doorbell pealed. Clara wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the paneled hall between the kitchen and the front entry. It was probably the doctor needing a cup of coffee during his daily round.
    “Ingeborg!” Clara reached out to draw her guest inside and instead found herself enveloped in a hug that immediately made her think of Mor. “Come in, come right on in.”
    “I hope I’m not intruding. John agreed to stay home with the little ones while they napped and so here I am.” Ingeborg unbuttoned her coat and let Clara remove it from her shoulders and hang the heavy black wool on the coat tree.
    “I’m afraid Mrs. Norgaard might be asleep. She had a busy morning.” She led the way into the parlor. “I’ll go see and be right back.”
    “No, I came to talk with you.” Ingeborg took a seat on the brown velvet sofa and patted the surface beside her. “‘For, you see, I have an absolutely marvelous idea and I need your help.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes, I am thinking of starting a class to teach English to those Norwegians who just immigrated.”
    “Like me?” Clara put a hand to her chest.
    “Yes.” Ingeborg gave a bounce on the slippery sofa.
    “Wouldn’t you love to be able to speak and read the language of your new country?”
    “Ja, for sure that I would.” A