Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) by Vikki Kestell

Author:Vikki Kestell [Kestell, Vikki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Faith-Filled Fiction, a Division of Growing Up in God
Published: 2014-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

Somehow life continued. Norvald decided he needed to learn English to better serve the community when he took crops and livestock to Omaha to sell. He enlisted Henrik and Brian to study with him. Of course, the three of them tried to convince Jan to join their group.

Jan saw it for what it was: a well-meant and transparent ploy to draw Jan out of his sorrows. He refused.

I will not learn the English, he vowed, stubborn in his grief. I do not need to learn; I have Søren.

~~**~~

Chapter 25

All day the ache in his chest had grown. Now the throbbing pain threatened to erupt, and he did not know what it would do to Søren to see his father lose control. He could not remain in the barn another moment.

With no word to his sønn, Jan left off milking and walked away from the barn. And then ran. He ran until he was far enough away and knew Søren would not be able to hear the sobs burst from his mouth.

O Lord! I am undone. I am breaking. How can I give up my wife and datter? How can I take up Karl’s family for him, O God? I have not the strength or the heart.

Sorrow racked his body; he could not breathe. Lord, would it not have been better for me to come to you than Karl? Did you make a mistake, Lord?

It was early November; winter cold had not yet set in. He stumbled, weeping, up the slope to where Kristen, Karl, and Elli, with their baby sønn, were buried. After only a few weeks, wild grasses were greening the mounds that marked where they lay.

Kneeling between Elli and Kristen’s graves, Jan pounded his thighs and cried aloud, unable to control the flood of grief: It had a life of its own and it possessed him.

His chest constricted, and long, aching minutes crept by before his breath returned to him. He gazed into the distance . . . stared at the prairie that stretched before him, timeless, endless, masterless.

Unbidden, an idea came to him. I will build a wall here. To surround them, he thought, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve.

He glanced around. No, not a wall—a fence of wrought iron. Yes, that would be nicer. More open.

He managed to stand. A fence with roses climbing over the gate. Sunset roses! And I will plant another tree just there, one that will bloom over the fence and cover them with its flowers and sweet scent.

Still weak from his weeping, Jan stepped out the corners and perimeter he imagined, finding a comfort in doing so—as though he was doing something for Elli. For Kristen. For Karl.

Søren appeared behind him, quiet, watchful. Like his father had, he would get his growth late. He was thin, lanky, and awkward with the promise of the man to come.

My sønn! Jan saw the anguish in the boy’s eyes. Lord, I was wrong. I would not have my sønn left alone in the world.

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