On the way home from school Katherine O'Connell slowed her steps. Around her, the noises of Minneapolis filled the street. A horse trotted past, clip-clopping on the cobblestones. Circling a mound of snow, Kate found a place to stop.
MThe black hair that escaped her braid curled around her face. In the afternoon sunlight her deep blue eyes sparkled. The air felt warm for a Minnesota winter, but twelve-year-old Kate barely noticed. She had an idea.
MRolling it around in her mind, she considered the idea from this way and that. More than once she had tumbled headlong into a plan, sometimes with surprising results. Yet this one might work.
MAt last Kate tossed her head. Flipping her long braid over her shoulder, she made up her mind.
MWalking quickly, she plunged down the street. The church was only a block away. A year ago she wouldn't have thought of going there for help. But that was before Daddy died.
MEven now, Kate felt surprised by her idea. Yet it was a good one. She felt sure of that.
MAt the bottom of the church steps she paused, suddenly afraid. From here Kate could barely see the tall steeple reaching to the sky. Across the street a grocery wagon stopped, and a boy climbed down. Lifting a wooden box filled with food, he carried it into a house.
MSeeing him there, Kate knew it was time to be home. Mama would wonder where she was.
MTurning, Kate hurried up the wide stone steps. As she pulled open the heavy door, she tried to look like the young lady Mama wanted her to be. Somehow Kate always forgot.
MInside, where the sunlight did not reach, the entryway seemed dim and cold. Quickly Kate opened another door.
MIn the main part of the church, afternoon sunlight brightened the large windows. Pews stretched away to the front. Kate stood there a moment, thinking about Mama. Last night she had cried in the dark again.
MWhen Kate asked, "Are you all right?" Mama sniffled her yes.
M"Are you lonesome for Daddy?" Kate asked next.

MMama's answer sounded clearer, as though she'd pulled the quilt away from her head. "Yes, Kate. Go back to sleep."
MBut Kate had one more question. "Mama, do you ever get lonesome for Sweden?"
MAt the age of seventeen Mama had come from Sweden by herself. "Sometimes," she answered, her voice soft. "Sometimes."
MMama's words scared Kate. What if she decides to go back to Sweden? I'd have to leave all my friends--Sarah Livingston and Michael Reilly--
MOften the children teased Michael, saying, "You're sweet on Kate!" Michael always turned red, but he never denied it.
MIn the darkness of night Kate lay there a long time before going back to sleep, wondering, What can I do?
MNow Kate started down the side aisle of the church. As she passed the organ, she stopped and looked back. "Do I dare?" she asked herself, then felt surprised she'd spoken aloud.
MAs she looked around, the church seemed empty.
MMoving quickly, Kate turned back to the pipe organ. Again she glanced around. "No one will know," she muttered. Without a sound Kate slid onto the bench.
MFor a long time she'd wanted to sit there, feeling the ivory keys beneath her fingers. For what seemed forever she'd wanted to make the wonderful big sounds the organist played every Sunday. Whenever the sermon seemed long, Kate thought about the sound of the music.
MShe knew the organ wouldn't work without someone hand pumping the bellows that brought in air. Yet she touched the keys the way the organist did, pretending she knew how to play. I could be a great organist. I could travel around America putting on concerts. If only I could learn.
MThen from somewhere in the dimly lit corners came a sound. In a second Kate was off the bench, starting down the aisle once more.
MAt the front of the church, she reached a hallway, then a large door. Kate straightened her shoulders, hoping she looked taller. Before she could change her mind, she raised her hand and knocked.