The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) by Becky Riker Read Free Book Online Page B

either.”
    She turned to the boy and spoke in French, “May I help you?”
    The boy blew out a breath of frustration, “Why can’t he understand I don’t speak Swedish or whatever gibberish that is he’s saying?”
    Karlijna wondered why the boy thought Leif  should know French, but didn’t bother asking.
    “Is there something you needed, sir?” she spoke as sweetly as possible, not noticing the look of surprise plastered on Leif ’s face.
    The boy told her and she interpreted for Leif who, dumbfounded, was scarcely able to complete the task. Once the transaction was finished and the boy on his way, Karlijna turned to go back into the storeroom. Leif followed her.
    “I thought you said you had no skills.  That is what we have been seeking for you, a job for a girl with no skills.”
    Karlijna looked to the man and shook her head, “I have no trade skills. I am able to do needlepoint, play music– not well, I’m afraid. My tutors were ever despairing of my learning anything at all.”  She returned to her work, “I have no skills to help people. I was trained to be a wife,” she sighed softly, “not a worker.”
    Leif laughed heartily, “My wife would take offense to that.”
    “What?” Karlijna was confused.
    “That a wife does not work. I think I will not repeat it.”
    Karlijna agreed t hat he had made a wise choice. She thought the conversation was over, but her employer did not leave.
    “I may know of a job for you.”
    Karlijna looked up, “Yes?”
    Before he could answer, a voice came from the front.
    “I’m looking for Leif Anderson,” she heard a man say in Swedish that was probably worse than her own.
    “I am Leif Anderson.”
    “My name is Michael Gunderson. My mother is Sigrid Gunderson.”
    There was a brief moment of silence before Leif erupted, “Ingrid,” he hollered for his wife, “my nephew is here from America!”
    Leif sent one of his children for Torkel and their cousins.
    “Karlijna,” Leif called out, “Come and meet my sister’s boy, Michael.”
    The girl emerged from the room and saw a young man in a uniform.  Whether he was young or old, handso me or ugly, she could not say. All the young woman saw was the green uniform.
    On legs that felt near to giving way, she forced herse lf to move toward the counter. Karlijna swallowed and desperately fought the urge to run and hide. That, of course, would be an indicator of guilt.
    If there was one thing Karlijna had learned in the past year, it was to avoid the appearance of guilt. Could this man tell she had escaped the camp? Her hair was still very short and uneven, but it was all covered with her scarf. She glanced down at her wrist and saw that the sleeve had slid a bit.  She tugged the fabric over the offending marks.
    How had he found her? Was he here to return her or to kill her? Why hadn’t she stayed in hiding a little longer?
    Karlijn a remained rooted to the spot. It took all the strength she had. She stared with large dark eyes at the man’s outstretched hand, but could not will herself to grasp it.
    A Nazi wanting to shake hands with her?  What kind of strangeness was this?
    “Karlijna?” Leif’s voice was kind.  He placed and steadying hand on her shoulder and felt the shudder that radiated through her frame, “You may go back to your job.”
    Karlijna nodded but could not take her eyes from the hand in front of her, nor could she move from the spot now that she had permission to go.
    She turned h er young face to look at Leif. His expression seemed a mixture of concern and curiosity. It was more than she could bear. Hot tears began coursing down her cheeks. She made no sound, but could not stop the flow.
    Leif gently took her arm and propelled her toward the living quarters of the building. She didn’t notice at first where they were going, and, once she did, she began to resist.
    “No, Leif ,” she pulled against him, “he’ll see that I’m not working. I must go to work.”
    “Karlijna,”