Page 23 of A Joyful Ring
Risa gave the brooch another look before carefully setting it inside the blue-velvet-lined box. She lifted the ornately designed silver sleigh bell and held it in the palm of her hand.
“I’ve never seen anything like this bell. The flowers etched into it are spectacular. Was this something your grandmother created?”
“No. My grandfather, on my father’s side of the family. His father worked for a silversmith who was often requested to make pieces for the King of Sweden. My grandfather did the work, and the silversmith got all the money and glory.”
“Why didn’t your grandfather start his own business?”
Gunder had often wondered that very thing, but knew between politics and the expense of starting a business, it wouldn’t have been possible. “He lacked the money to go out on his own, and the silversmith would have besmirched his name until no one dared to do business with him. Father said Grandfather was proud of his work, even if no one ever knew he was the creator of the pieces. He specialized in making bells. Sleigh bells. Parsonagebells. Tower bells. Hand bells. Dinner bells. All kinds of bells. The story I’ve heard all my life is that the king wanted a beautiful set of sleigh bells to give to his wife as a Christmas gift. Her favorite flower was a lily, so Grandfather labored for months and months, hand forging and carving each and every bell so they looked like lily buds about to bloom. He made a few extra and gave one to each of his children. Father gave the bell to me so I would never forget that I come from craftsmen who have served kings.”
Risa shifted the bell in her hand and rang it. The clear, perfect tone echoed across the autumn afternoon. “It’s incredible, Gunder. Do you know how to make bells as well as jewelry?”
“I know the steps to create it, but I’ve never made one entirely on my own. My father makes one bell a year and gives it to my mother for Christmas. It’s a tradition we all look forward to because each bell is so different.”
“Oh, that is wonderful, Gunder. What a special gift and beautiful heritage your family has given you.” Risa returned the bell to the box, then set it back in the tin. Other than a bundle of letters from his family and a small nugget of gold he’d found on the road to Baker City one day, nothing else was in the box. As though she sensed that was all she needed to see, Risa set the lid back on the tin and placed it on the ground beside her. “Thank you for sharing those with me. That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? It’s not about getting rich. It’s about claiming your heritage.”
Gunder nodded. “I don’t want to lose the skillsmy family taught me. It’s important to me to preserve them, but I can’t do that unless I have silver to work with.”
“Then we’ll just have to figure this out. Mr. Goodwin doesn’t care if you take the silver that falls out of the wagons when they load, does he?”
“No. I have his permission. It’s a lot of work to clean it and get it to the point it’s ready to melt, but that’s been the easy part. Getting the silver hot enough to melt has been the issue.”
“Your fire seems blistering hot to me,” she said, scooting back so she sat partially blocked behind him from the increasing heat. “What’s different about the fire today?”
“I brought back some oak scraps from the lumberyard in Baker City. The manager told me it burns the hottest of any wood in the area.”
“That makes sense. A hotter fire would increase the temperature inside the pot, right?”
“That is my theory.” Gunder continued pumping the bellows. “So, now that you know I’m not just one more greedy buffoon seeking to make his fortune out of silver tailings, what brought you over to see me? You must have finished early at the boardinghouse today.”
“Yes. Two of the boarders are gone for a few weeks, so there are fewer rooms to clean and less food to prepare.” Risa sighed. “It was nice to finish early and have some time to take care of things at the house.”
“And …?” Gunder could tell there was something she wanted to say or ask him. They’d spent enough time together, he knew when a matter weighed heavily on her mind.
Risa plucked a stem of dried grass and twisted it around her fingers. “Do you think Papa is in love with Mrs. Franklin?” she finally blurted, then gaped at him as though she couldn’t quite believe she’d allowed the words to escape.
Gunder nodded. “I do believe that is the best way to describe it, and before you ask, she seems equally smitten with your father. When I stay there, she speaks of him constantly, and with such adoration.”
“Oh, I …” Risa stared off into the distance for several moments, as though she needed to gather her thoughts.
Gunder didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to study her profile, admire the way the lowering sun made her hair look like molten honey, and gilded her skin until it looked as though it had been dusted in gold. His family might have made works of art from silver, but Risa was a living work of art made by the Creator.
Quite desperately, he longed to reach out and tuck an errant strand of her hair behind her ear, but instead took a tighter grip on the bellows.
“Do you think my father is thinking about marrying Mrs. Franklin?”
Gunder shrugged. “That’s a question for Lars, not me. I have no idea what he’s thinking or planning, nor is it any of my business.”
Risa nodded as tears welled in her eyes. “I know. You’re right. It isn’t my business, but I just want Papa to be happy. I’m afraid he’s holding off his own happiness until he thinks I’ve found mine.”
It was Gunder’s turn to mutter “oh” and ponder the situation. “Do you think it would help if you met Mrs. Franklin? She really is a nice woman.”
“I think it would help immensely, but how would that ever come to pass? The only day Papa and I have off together is Sunday, and I hate to ask him to drive all the way into Baker City on his one day off.”
Gunder considered the options. “What if Mrs. Franklin met you halfway? That’s only five miles for each of you. It’s possible to travel that in an hour or so, depending on the horse and conveyance. Maybe you and your father could meet her for a picnic after church on Sunday. The weather should still be pleasant.”
“But how do I convince Papa to ask her, and how do I ask her when I can’t even see her or talk to her?” Risa hopped up and began pacing. “Maybe I should ask Mrs. Baldwin for a day off and ride into Baker City myself. If I meet Mrs. Franklin and she despises me, Papa would never have to know about it. No …” She shook her head. “That sounds deceitful, and I won’t do that.”
Gunder let her work her way through the possibilities while he continued keeping the fire going. He stopped at one point to add more wood pieces and turned to find Risa pumping the bellows for him.
