The Daughter's Walk - Jane Kirkpatrick [69]
Olaf stopped short, frowned when he recognized me, and I wondered if he’d turn back. Could he really be displeased to see me? He didn’t reach to hug me, but then, it was a public place. He soon smiled, enough encouragement. I stepped forward.
His fellow workers teased him when I approached, and they pretended not to believe him when he said, “She’s my sister.”
“Introduce me then,” a large blond bloke of a man said.
Olaf hesitated, then said, “Clara Estby. Meet Erik Elstad. My boss’s son.”
“Miss Estby,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” He had a grin that he knew charmed.
“Likewise,” I curtsied, gave him a cool nod before turning to Olaf. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
He took my elbow and we headed toward the haystacks, leaving Erik Elstad shouting, “You’ll be back.”
“He’s pretty taken with himself,” I said.
“And he’s taken a fair number of girls too,” Olaf said.
“So that’s why you didn’t want to introduce us.”
“He sees women as conquests,” he said. “You don’t need to be one. You have to be careful, Clara. Men can be such dolts. I have my lunch,” he said. “Care to share it?”
I let his words sink in. “I brought an apple along, thanks.”
He swept an area with his foot so we could sit in the shade of the haystack. We sat side by side and leaned against it, the scratchy hay barely poking at my short jacket. I didn’t remove my hat, knowing the humidity would have flattened my hair into a drenched-cat look.
“Was the foreclosure awful?” I said.
He shrugged. “The auction was worse. But it’s done now, all over. Someone else bought the farm for a pittance.”
“How’s Mama?” I asked.
He shrugged. “She pretty much lets Aunt Hannah and Ida tell her what to do. I hope when Papa builds the house he wants and she gets her own home again that she’ll be better.”
“Papa is going to build a house?”
“He got a carpenter’s job and he’s doing well. I think they’re all doing better without the weight of that farm, though I’d never say that in front of them.”
“No,” I agreed.
“Ida’s got a job as a domestic. Arthur’s looking for carpentry work too. With what I send them added to their income, they’ll be able to build soon enough and move out of Aunt Hannah’s house. How are you doing?”
“Good. I’m doing good,” I said. I didn’t tell him of the nights I cried myself to sleep feeling separate and alone. “Olaf, would you go to school if I paid your way?”
He looked startled. “Pay my way? Why don’t you go yourself?”
“I finished my coursework at Blair and I have a job. The bookkeeping I do for the women is satisfying. I don’t think having a degree would help me find a better job than the one I have.” I pulled a strand of grass hay from the stack and chewed on it. “They wouldn’t take the money back,” I said. “I’m to invest it. And I want to invest in you.”
Olaf stared off toward the fields, and the laughter of the other workers rose up now and then. He drank cold coffee from a jar, then set it next to him.
“I need to send money to Mama and Papa,” he said. “They count on it.”
“I could send it to you for them. They wouldn’t even have to know it came from me.”
“Clara …”
“Or that you were even in school. You could go to the university and—”
“If they ever found out, they wouldn’t talk to me,” he said. “I don’t think I could. You’re stronger than I am, Clara. Stronger than any of us. You’ll do all right out there on your own, but me.”
“You work away from home now. You’re hardly ever there. The university would give you a chance to do what you’ve always wanted to do—have a profession, not be tied to the seasons.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the seasons, Clara.”
“Oh, I know that. I love the land as much as you do. I only meant you’d have a chance to operate a farm on your own if you wanted. I could even buy a ranch for you,” I said. I hadn’t thought of it before, but why not?
“I like working for other people, helping Mama and Papa when I can. Even if I marry one day, I can’t see myself holding up under the pressure