As the sound echoed in the stillness, Kate wished she hadn't come. In all her twelve years she'd never been so scared. Except when Daddy died, that is.
MMaybe Pastor Munson won't be here. Kate felt torn between wanting to see him and fearing what he'd think. Just as she turned to run, the door opened.
M"Kate!" exclaimed the pastor. "God dag!"
MHis words sounded like "Good dog," and Kate knew only a few words of Swedish. Because Daddy was Irish and Mama Swedish, Kate spoke English at home. Yet she knew Pastor Munson was saying, "Good day," and managed to squeak out her hello.
MWhenever Pastor Munson stood in the front of the church, he looked tall and stern. Now as Kate sat down, he seemed still more frightening.
M"What can I do for you?" he asked from his big chair behind the big desk.
MKate's hands tightened, and she found herself bunching her skirt inside nervous fingers. I wish I'd never come. Where do I begin?
MIn the silence someone knocked on the door. "Excuse me," said Pastor Munson. "I'll be right back."
MAs he went into the hallway, Kate looked around for a way of escape. Books lined two walls of the study. On the third wall hung a large calendar. JANUARY, 1906. Nearby, the sun streamed through a window.
MSeeing the sunlight, Kate felt better. When Pastor Munson returned, she knew what to say.
MThis time he smiled as he asked, "Can I help you with something?"
MKate swallowed. "When you preached Sunday—" She stopped, afraid to go on. For a moment she waited, but he waited too.
M"Yah?" It was the Swedish yes, and his voice sounded encouraging. Yet Kate's hand shook as she reached up and touched the small locket on a chain around her neck. She thought of Daddy and how he'd given her the locket on her last birthday before he died.
MRemembering Daddy gave Kate courage. Her voice steadied. "In church on Sunday you said we could talk to you when we have a problem."

MPastor Munson nodded, and Kate went on. "Well, I have a problem. Or rather, Mama has a problem."
M"Yah?" asked Pastor Munson again.
MKate had to go on. "Mama needs a husband."
MPastor Munson cleared his throat. "Oh, indeed?"
MNow Kate's words came in a rush. "She's always tired. She works hard sewing dresses for rich ladies. And she's been sick, off and on all fall."
MKate stopped, and Pastor Munson nodded, "Yah." This time the word wasn't a question.
M"But I think it's more. Since Daddy died she's been so—"
MPastor Munson finished for her. "Hopeless."
M"All of Mama's family lives in Sweden." For a moment Kate was silent, looking at her hands as they twisted in her lap. Then she tried again. "Sometimes when I wake up at night Mama's crying. In the morning she pretends she's all right. But her eyes—"
M"Look sad."
M"Yah," said Kate, surprised she'd used the Swedish yes.
MWhenever she heard Mama crying, Kate longed to be a family again. To have Daddy back, telling his funny stories. To sing together and laugh. Even to herself, Kate couldn't quite explain it. But to love each other.
MShe tried to put the thought away. Daddy couldn't come back, not ever.
MKate felt relieved that Pastor Munson seemed to understand about Mama. Somehow he didn't seem quite so stern. In fact, his eyes looked kind. When he smiled, she knew he wasn't making fun of her, the way boys at school might do.
M"What's it been? A year now since your papa died in that construction accident?"
MKate nodded. Daddy had been strong, as though nothing would ever happen to him. He'd been a good carpenter. When he came home from work, he always swung her off the floor with a big hug. Sometimes he danced around the kitchen, doing an Irish jig. Tears came into Kate's eyes just thinking about it.