Late June 1903

Blessing, North Dakota

 r stay.” Astrid stared at the daisy in her hand and pulled ff

tw petals. Sitting n the back prch, she was suppsed t be hulling strawberries. But smehw that didn’t wrk as well when ne had life-altering decisins t make. She pulled anther petal. “G.” And watched it drift dwn t the secnd f the three steps.

“Yu dne with the berries?” her mther, Ingebrg, asked frm

the ther side f the clsed screen dr.

Astrid shk her head. “Almst.” She laid the daisy dwn and

std herself up, stretching her clasped hands abve her head and

twisting first t the left then t the right. The pull made her lng fr

a gd run acrss the fields. And that made her think f the ld swing

dwn by the river, where she and the thers used t pump up t the

sky until the day ne f the rpes brke and ne f the bys landed in

Lauraine Snelling

the water. Frm then n they used it t swing ut ver the river and

jump in. At least the bys did. The girls weren’t allwed.

But she and cusin Sphie had leaped frm the rpe and never

tld anyne.

Maybe she shuld ask Sphie fr advice. Maybe nt.

“Here, I need a breeze fr a while.” Ingebrg handed her a tray with a plate f ckies and glasses f lemnade, ice chunks flating in it. Ever since they’d purchased the icebx frm Penny’s stre—the Blessing Mercantile, the new name she’d given it—ice in the drinks was a cmmn event.

Astrid set it n the table and sat in the chair t begin hulling. She

culd smell the fine perfume f strawberry jam cking.

“I’m making biscuits fr strawberry shrtcake fr dinner. That will make yur far supremely happy.” Ingebrg sat dwn, waving her aprn t create a breeze. “Mighty still ut here.” She lked tward the west. “Culd be rain cming. We sure need it.”

They picked up their glasses at the same time, and Ingebrg drank

a gd part f hers. “All right, what is wrng?” She glanced ver at the

limp flwer, nw lying n the prch with several f its petals missing.

“He lves me, he lves me nt?”

Astrid made a face. “Nw, wh wuld I be thinking that

abut?”

“What, then?” Ingebrg, her braids fading frm glden t sil-

vered gilt and wrapped arund her head crwnlike, leaned tward

her daughter, her vice full f lve and cncern.

“Same ld thing. D I stay here r g t Chicag fr the surgical

training?”

Ingebrg sighed. “I thught Gd wuld have made it clear by