Sophie's Dilemma by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online Page B

. ah . . . well, we’re having company.’’ Sophie refused to look at Grace. She could feel her twin’s secret laughter. She sucked in a breath and slapped a smile on her face. ‘‘What was it you wanted?’’ Sweetness worked better than snapping, in her mother’s outlook.
    ‘‘We need some help here. Would you go out to the well house and bring in the jug of cream? Also I have a new mold of butter we’ll use.’’
    ‘‘Yes, of course.’’ She flew out the door. The springhouse was closer to where the men were leaning into part of the steam engine. Perhaps she could go ask if they wanted anything. She thought of taking cookies down to them, but that might be a bit obvious. Please be thinking of me, Hamre .
    As she opened the door set in the stone wall that helped keep the well house cool, Sophie eyed the two men still talking. They were spending too much time talking about farming, she was sure. Why didn’t they come up to the house? Didn’t Hamre want to see her? If he knew she was waiting and he was tormenting her . . .
    Water ran from the windmill into a pipe that poured into a concrete trough and ran out the other end via a pipe into the watering tank for the cattle. Crocks and jars set in the cold tank stayed fresh. Eggs filled a basket with straw in the bottom. Smoked meat hung from hooks in the rafters, as did spekekjøtt, haunches of mutton dried in the top of the barn in the hot summertime. It would be sliced paper thin and served on bread or with cream. Like the cellar under the house, the springhouse spoke well of the larder and the hard work of the family. When the weather cooled enough for butchering, crocks of sausage patties and headcheese would line the floor against one wall. Ropes of sausages would hang in loops from the rafters. On a hot day the well house was a great place to work.
    Sophie took the wooden butter mold and the jug of cream her mother needed and closed the door carefully behind her, dropping the bent nail into the hasp to lock it. She glanced around, only to see the men were no longer by the machinery. Had they gone to the house? Surely Hamre would visit with her before he returned to the boardinghouse. What had they been talking about all that time? If only she could read lips long distance.
    Supper at the Knutsons’, when the deaf school was in session was always an adventure, especially at the beginning of the year while everyone was still in training. The older students took turns helping with the meals and serving; the younger ones set the table and helped with the cleanup afterward.
    With Lars at the head of the table and Kaaren at the foot, closest to the kitchen, Sophie, Grace, Trygve, and Samuel, along with Ilse and George, spaced themselves along the long table to help the students, who were required to use the proper signs to ask for what they wanted.
    Sophie paid more attention to Hamre sitting next to her pa than to the children around her until the milk from an upended glass flowed into her lap. She pushed back her chair and leaped to her feet, ready to scream at the offender, but her mother’s clearing her throat stopped her. Here I have my good dress on for company, and this happens . She’d taken off her apron, which added to the mess. But since looking at her mother would yield nothing but a note of censure, she fetched a couple of towels, one to hand to the child to wipe up the mess on the table and another to clean her dress. Now she’d have to rinse out the skirt tonight because she’d hoped to wear this to school the next day.
    Smiling sweetly on the outside, she took her place again and passed the bowl of potatoes to the person on her right.
    When supper was finished, the adults moved into the parlor while Ilse oversaw the cleanup and homework time.
    Hamre, look at me . Sophie tried to catch his attention, but he followed her family as if he had all the time in the world. Surely this wouldn’t be an ordinary evening with homework and casual