His Prairie Sweetheart. Erica Vetsch

she strained to see in the dim light of the loft. A single, small-paned window at the end of the room showed the grayish-pink light of the coming dawn. Mrs. Halvorson called up the stairs again.

      The loft was divided into two rooms, not by a wall, but by a curtain of pillow ticking material strung on a wire. On the far side lay Lars’s portion of the upstairs space, a fact Savannah had been conscious of as she tossed and turned last night.

      Rut rolled out of her side of the bed and plucked her dress off a peg. She glanced over her shoulder with a quick smile, said something Savannah couldn’t understand and began dressing. Savannah slipped from beneath the quilt, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the steeply sloped roof. She wrapped herself in the shawl she’d laid close to hand the night before, and searched through her luggage until she found the valise she thought contained her most serviceable skirts and blouses.

      Rut tapped Savannah’s shoulder, raised her eyebrows and pointed to the buttons up the back of her dress. “Vennligst?”

      “Oh, of course.” Savannah began to do them up for the little girl. Through the curtain that divided the room came rustling and bumping, followed by clattering down the steep staircase.

      Rut soon followed, leaving Savannah some privacy in which to dress and fix her hair. She found herself banging her elbows on the roof, barking her shins on the many boxes and bags, and struggling in the cramped space to find what she needed. She would have to bring some organization to her possessions if she was really going to spend the school year here.

      She paused. Of course she was going to spend the school year here. She’d signed a contract, given her word. And besides, admitting defeat before she even started wasn’t her way. Why, Aunt Carolina would never let her live it down if she quit this soon.

      Shaking out a tan-and-blue-plaid blouse with a minimum of lace, she paired it with a businesslike brown skirt. The severe lines of the front fall and the spare draping and gathering to the bustle would surely be suitable for a schoolteacher. Digging farther, she found the box containing her new, high-topped black boots, the most serviceable footgear she’d ever purchased. Almost no heel, sturdy laces and dull black leather. Savannah wrinkled her nose as she stuck her boot-clad foot out and surveyed the results. Her sisters would laugh.

      Fully dressed, she eased down the precipitous staircase into the kitchen. Mrs. Halvorson stood at the cupboard slicing bread, her back to Savannah. There was no sign of the children, and Savannah didn’t know how to ask where they’d gone. How was she ever going to survive here when she couldn’t talk to anyone?

      Except Elias Parker, who thought she should be sent back where she came from before “big, bad Minnesota” did her in. Savannah grimaced and pushed Elias to the back of her mind.

      “God morgen.”

      Mrs. Halvorson’s greeting pulled Savannah out of her thoughts, and after a pause, she replied, “Good morning, Mrs. Halvorson.”

      The woman beamed and pointed to herself. “Agneta.”

      “Good morning, Agneta. Please, call me—” she put her hand on her chest “—Savannah.”

      “Sa-vah-nah.”

      “Yes.”

      Agneta reached into the sideboard and handed her some cutlery, then motioned to the table. Grateful for a job to do, Savannah set the table, taking the stoneware plates from the shelf where she’d seen Agneta put them after washing up last night. As she found tin cups, Agneta beamed and nodded. Again this morning she had her braids crisscrossed atop her head, giving her a girlish appearance. Her apron covered most of her dress and had been embroidered with cheerful yellow-and-red flowers along the hem.

      Just as Savannah placed the last cup, Lars and Rut came in. Lars carried a small pail of milk, which he handed to his mother before washing up at the basin beside the door. Agneta took the milk, poured some through a piece of cheesecloth into a pitcher, then the rest into a pair of shallow pans on the sideboard. Per Halvorson came in and opened the door that went into the dugout portion of the dwelling. A dank, cool, earthy smell rolled out, and Agneta carried the pans inside.

      The children tugged out the bench and sat at the table. Savannah took the place she’d occupied the night before, and when everyone was seated, Per bowed his head. Though she couldn’t understand the words, Savannah was grateful. At least she had been placed with a family that prayed together.

      A small wave of homesickness crept into her heart. This morning, Aunt Carolina, Aunt Georgette and Savannah’s sisters would be sitting on the back veranda sharing breakfast. The girls would be home from the Minton Ladies’ Academy for the weekend. The day would include shopping and tea downtown, perhaps a few calls upon friends. The evening would hold a symphony concert, or a stroll through the city gardens, or buggy rides with some of the young men in their set.

      “Sa-vah-nah?”

      She looked up. Agneta held a plate of thinly sliced meat for her.

      “Oh, I beg your pardon.” She took a piece of the meat and passed the plate to Rut. Bread followed.

      Sandwiches for breakfast? She had to expect that, along with the language, the customs and food would be different. With a slight shrug and a mental note to do everything she could to blend in to her new surroundings, Savannah buttered her bread and slid the meat between the two slices.

      Rut giggled and Lars stared.

      Savannah stopped, her food inches from her lips. “What?”

      Agneta scolded the children, who had the grace to look abashed. They fell to eating, and Savannah noticed that they placed their meat atop the bread and ate it with a fork. Open-faced sandwiches.

      Heat prickled her skin, and she slid her top piece of bread aside and picked up her fork. Painfully aware that she’d made some social gaffe, she found her appetite had fled.

      The Halvorsons spoke little during meals, and as soon as they’d finished eating, they sprang up. Agneta pointed to Rut and Lars, then a large basket beside the door. She showed Savannah the contents: a scrub brush, soap, rags...cleaning supplies. Agneta waved in the direction of the school, made a wiping motion with one of the rags and pointed to Savannah and the children.

      “Oh, thank you.” Savannah had wondered about how to get the school clean and ready for Monday. Evidently, Agneta had thought ahead.

      They went by road instead of cutting across the fields, which were high with corn and wheat. Lars brought along a small bucket of water, and Savannah couldn’t think why, since she had noticed a pump right by the school. Rut and Savannah carried the basket between them, and Rut chattered the entire time, as if Savannah could understand her perfectly. Evidently, she thought total immersion into the language was the best way to teach Savannah Norwegian.

      The belfry appeared first over the waving corn, then the white school building. A horse and buckboard stood out front, and someone sat on the steps. A loud bark erupted and a furry streak shot toward them, bounding and wagging and wiggling.

      The collie, Captain. Lars set his bucket down, dropped to his knees and embraced the dog.

      Elias rose from the porch, long and lean, his hat pushed back, revealing his dark hair. “Morning.”

      Savannah and Rut arrived together, and they set the basket on the ground. Rut clattered up the steps and took Elias’s hand, swinging on it as she gazed up with bright eyes. He winked at her.

      “Thought I’d come and make sure there isn’t anything that needs fixing, broken boards or loose hinges.” He motioned to a small toolbox he’d brought. “With the place sitting empty for so many months, there’s bound to be some issues.”

      Savannah nodded, unsure if she was glad or annoyed. With him here at least he could translate for the children, but it felt almost as if he didn’t think she was even up to the task of sweeping out the school without his supervision.

      Entering the school, she was again hit with the smells of dust and stale air. She moved to the closest window and tugged on