Dina's Book

by Herbjorg Wassmo

  Mother Karen was a lovely little bird of passage that somehow had remained for the winter.

  Grief made her transparent, like delicate glass. The dark winter days left their shadows on her gentle ways.

  She missed Jacob. The curly hair and laughing eyes. Missed him as he was before life became so crazy at Reinsnes.

  Age made it easy for her to cross the boundaries to the dead. The servants thought she was beginning to get senile. She hobbled around, talking to herself.

  It was actually a symptom of great loneliness. And hopeless longing. For what had been.

  People and animals, barns, sheds, and warehouses, were marked by this loneliness.

  The whole estate held its breath, waiting for someone to fill Jacob’s place.

  Reinsnes had become a ship floating aimlessly, with no captain or crew.

  It did not help matters that Dina never left her bedroom and paced back and forth in travel boots at night.

  That she had stopped talking was discomforting.

  Anders escaped from the house of sorrow and prepared to go fishing in the Lofoten Islands.

  Mother Karen wrote a letter to Johan, saying he was fatherless but not homeless. She spent a week finding the right words. And spared him the details.

  They had done everything possible to save his father’s life, she wrote. But still, God had taken him. Perhaps in His great mercy He saw that it would be too hard for Jacob to live as a cripple with only one foot. Perhaps God in His wisdom understood he was not made for such a life.

  After sending the letter with the sad news, Mother Karen climbed the stairs laboriously and knocked on Dina’s door.

  Dina was standing in the middle of the room when the old woman entered.

  She was about to turn away toward the windows when Mother Karen’s gentle voice burst out:

  “You keep pacing back and forth in your room! But that won’t accomplish anything!”

  Perhaps it was Mother Karen’s white, quivering nostrils. Or the restless fingers she kept hooking onto the fringes of her shawl.

  Dina withdrew from her shell and showed a speechless interest.

  “Life must go on, Dina dear. You should come downstairs now and get things under control And …”

  Dina gestured for Mother Karen to sit down at an oval table in the center of the room. It was covered by a gold plush cloth with tassels that fluttered gently in the draft from the open door.

  The old woman seated her small, frail body on a high-backed chair.

  The table and four chairs had been shipped from Bergen the first year she lived at Reinsnes. She herself had made sure the expensive furniture was carried carefully ashore.

  Suddenly the old woman drifted into another world. As if she had never come to Dina’s room because the loneliness and worry were too overwhelming to bear alone.

  She sat staring at the curved table legs. As if they were unusual. Then, slowly and without introduction, she began to tell the story of the furniture.

  Dina crossed the room and shut the door to the hall. Then she got her slate and sat down beside the old woman. With her smile as a shield at first. But then just as herself. Listened. It seemed she had been waiting all her life for precisely this story.

  Mother Karen told about the oak furniture, about the chairs with elegantly upholstered seats. Jacob had thought they looked like women’s bodies, with low-cut bodices and fine hips.

  She let her fingers glide over the small heart-shaped opening carved in the back of the chair. Then her wrinkled, transparent hand smoothed the heavy tablecloth, lingering sadly where a cigar had left its mark.

  “That’s from Jacob’s unhappy days as a widower,” she said with a sigh.

  With no beginning or end, she told the story of her wonderful life with Jacob’s father. About the years in Paris and Bremen. About countless voyages with her beloved husband.

  Until one time in Trondheim when she waited for him to return from Copenhagen. In vain.

  His ship had sunk at a cursed spot on the southwest coast.

  Jacob was twelve years old then. And insisted he wanted to go to sea as soon as he was old enough.

  But most of all, Mother Karen talked about gleaming tables in great banquet halls. About rococo mirrors and fantastic bookcases. About travel chests with removable trays and secret compartments. A disjointed monologue.

  She returned constantly to the subject of the furniture she brought to Reinsnes.

  The oval table and the plush chairs, which had been reupholstered at the time of Dina and Jacob’s wedding.

  Jacob had decided to move the furniture from the sitting room to the master bedroom. Because he wanted Dina to be able to sit in the middle of the room and look across the sound in good weather. He wanted her to be able to see the glorious Reinsnes beaches!

  Dina listened, expressionless. The clock in the downstairs parlor suddenly struck three. It awakened the old woman. She gave Dina a mild look and seemed to have forgotten she had been telling stories. Once again she was lonely and worried about the future.

  “You’ve got to do something useful! You can’t just grieve day and night. The whole estate is neglected. Our people don’t know how to run things on their own. Time is passing.”

  Dina gazed at the beams in the ceiling. It was as though someone had painted a smile on her face but could not do it correctly and abandoned the task.

  “You want me to take charge?” she wrote on the black slate.

  Mother Karen looked at her in bewilderment and desperation.

  “This is yours, after all. Everything!”

  “Where is that written?” wrote Dina.

  Her fingers whitened around the slate pencil

  One afternoon Dina put on her riding clothes. Then she slid down the banister like a little girl. And went to the stable, without anyone seeing her.

  Blackie stood with lowered head, listening to her steps. When she entered the stall, the animal tossed its mane, stamped its forelegs, nipped her shoulder, and snapped its teeth at her good-naturedly.

  The horse and the woman. Soon they were one body.

  No one noticed them until they flew down the road toward the beach and disappeared.

  Those who saw it clasped their hands. Asked the nearest person: Did you see that? Dina was outdoors again! Dina rode away on Blackie!

  At first they found it a hopeful sign. Then they became uneasy. By now it seemed unnatural for Dina to be anywhere but in her bedroom.

  Tomas was sent to keep an eye on her. He saddled a horse faster than ever before in his life. Fortunately, he did not choose the road across the mountains, but rode along the dark shore. When he overtook her, he acted invisible. Did not make the mistake of shouting a warning when she spurred her horse to a gallop. Just followed at a good distance.

  They continued like this for a while.

  But suddenly she had enough. The horse was lathered in sweat. At the stable, she reined in Blackie so abruptly that clumps of ice spattered from his hooves and hit Tomas, who let out a yell.

  He stabled both horses without a word. Dried them and gave them hay and water.

  Dina stood watching Tomas work. It made his movements clumsy and unsure.

  Her eyes followed his narrow hips. His strong hands. His long red hair. His wide mouth.

  Then she met his gaze. One brown and one blue eye.

  She faced him confidently. Gathered her hair above her head with both hands. Then let it cascade over her shoulders. Turned and walked quickly out of the stable.

  Jacob Gronelv had written a will. But since he never imagined it would be needed so soon, the document had no validating stamps, or signature, or witnesses. And no copy had been filed with the authorities.

  But he had told the sheriff about the document. Because he was not only the sheriff’s son-in-law but also his hunting companion and friend.

  The thought that a will existed somewhere, no matter how invalid, made the sheriff uneasy. For Jacob had a grown son and two foster son
s.

  Though he was Dinars father, he was also the sheriff. It was his duty to make everything look right.

  When the weather improved, the sheriff went to Reinsnes. To have a private conversation with Dina. About Jacob’s last will and testament, which must be somewhere on the estate. Probably in the office at the warehouse.

  Dina listened with a blank expression. She did not know anything about Jacob’s will and had not seen any such paper. Jacob and she had not talked about such things, she wrote on the black slate.

  The sheriff nodded and said they should act quickly. Reach an agreement. Before anything else got decided. Otherwise there would be nothing but trouble. He had seen enough of that in his life.

  When the sheriff left, Dina went to the warehouse office.

  Niels was completely taken aback. He remained seated behind the solid oak desk. The corners of his mouth showed both astonishment and displeasure. His face, with its dark stubble of beard and its bristly mustache, was an open book.

  Dina stood looking at him across the desk for a while. When he gave no sign of wanting to help her, she wrote on her black slate: Give me the key to the large iron chest.

  He rose grudgingly and walked to the key cabinet between the two windows.

  When he turned around, she had taken his place in the old swivel chair. He instantly realized he was superfluous.

  And when he kept staring after laying the key on the counter, she nodded gently toward the door.

  He left reluctantly. Strode past all the bins in the store and looked straight through the sales clerk when he passed him. As if the man were air.

  Then he busied himself around the estate. Was a black cloud and a nuisance. Dropped comments about how even live young women had begun to haunt the estate. And they thought they understood business and ledgers! The fine madam could just sit there and make herself important! He certainly would not disturb her! People would soon see what happened. She could have asked him about the accounts, told him in advance that she wanted to examine the papers and business contracts. He would have found everything and laid it out neatly for her. Of course he would have!

  Niels’s nature was as dark and constrained as his brother Anders’s temperament was lighthearted and open. Had Anders not been in the Lofoten Islands, he would surely have given his brother good advice. Anders had so many ideas.

  Dina searched systematically, with stifled anger. In the old bookkeeping cabinet, in the iron chest, in drawers and on shelves. Hour after hour.

  Eventually everyone left the store, and the building grew quiet. The clerk came and asked if he should extinguish the lamp in the store. Dina nodded without looking at him. And continued searching among papers and folders. Now and then she straightened her shoulders and rubbed the small of her back with her fists.

  Just as she was ready to stop for the evening, she happened to see an old lacquered-birch writing box on one of the crowded shelves. Half buried among order forms and a stack of snuff containers.

  She rose quickly and walked across the room purposefully, as if Jacob were there giving her instructions. The wooden box was locked. But Dina was able to pick it open with a penknife.

  On top lay drawings of the Mother Karen cargo boat and a bundle of old letters from Johan. When she lifted the bundle, a yellow envelope slid out and stubbornly stood on end for an instant. Then it lay down nicely on the table.

  She had never seen the envelope before, but nonetheless, she was certain. This was Jacob’s will!

  She cleared up after herself. Locked the writing box again and put it back in its original place. Then she hid the envelope under her shawl, extinguished the lamp, and fumbled her way through the dark warehouse.

  Outside, the moon and an army of stars had overtaken the sky. The northern lights waved a luminous tatter, as if celebrating her discovery with her.

  She walked lightly across the snow-covered courtyard. Into the hall and upstairs to her room. Without meeting anyone.

  But the entire house seethed with whispers. Dina had left her room! The young wife had inspected the store! Niels thought she had examined the accounts and everything!

  “God is good!” Mother Karen said jubilantly to Oline. Oline nodded and listened toward the door as Dina walked past.

  Dina climbed into the large canopy bed. Closed all the bedcurtains and smoothed out Jacob’s will between her thighs with stiff fingers.

  His voice came slowly from the walls and intruded on everything. She had forgotten that he had a fine voice. A friendly tenor that did not sing in tune.

  She smiled as he read for her.

  No witnesses’ signatures. No official stamps. Just a man’s last will and testament. Written late one lonely evening. As if in a sudden flash of intuitive understanding. The thirteenth of December, 1842,

  Still, the document would be difficult to circumvent if the right people saw it. For in part, Jacob’s will was this:

  His wife, Dina, and Johan, his son from his first marriage, should lawfully administer the inheritance as long as they retained the estate without dividing it among other heirs.

  Jacob Gronelv desired that his wife manage his household and business to the best of her ability until Johan finished his studies, and that she secure whatever services she needed to maintain her status. His son, Johan, was to continue his theological education and receive financial support as an advance against his inheritance. He was to live at Reinsnes as long as he was unmarried and wanted to remain there. He could take over the estate with freeholder’s rights whenever he wished.

  His wife, Dina, together with Mother Karen Gronelv, were to be responsible for daily tasks related to the house and animals and servants.

  Mother Karen was to have not only a pension but all rights, privileges, and comforts until her death.

  His foster son Niels was to manage the store and keep the accounts as long as that was appropriate for both him and Reinsnes.

  His foster son Anders was to supervise the cargo boats and be responsible for everything pertaining to them.

  Both foster sons were to receive one tenth of any profits they earned for the estate.

  No one who owed Jacob Gronelv money should be forced to hold an auction to repay the debt.

  A large specific sum for the poor was mentioned.

  Dina spent the rest of the evening doing justice to Jacob’s will. She wrote a new “ testament.”

  She did not try to falsify the genuine will or to pretend that what she wrote was anything other than “my best recollection” of the wishes her “beloved departed husband” had verbally expressed.

  It was confusingly similar to Jacob’s will, except on a few points: There was no mention of one tenth for the foster sons. And they were to retain their positions as long as it profited Reinsnes and suited his wife, Dina.

  Nor did she write that Johan could take over the estate whenever he wished.

  Everything else she wrote down neatly and beautifully, point by point. Took care to include the sum for the poor.

  Then she stoked the stove well. And lit the seven-candle candelabra on the game table.

  * * *

  The entire time that Jacob’s last will and testament was burning in the black iron belly, Dina smiled.

  She placed the page she had written on the polished walnut writing table. Open, so everyone who entered could see it.

  Then she lay down on the large canopy bed, fully dressed.

  Suddenly she felt Jacob’s weight on top of her. He thrust himself into her. His breath was unfamiliar. His hands were hard. She repulsed him angrily. And Jacob gathered his trousers and silk vest and disappeared through the wall.

  I am Dina who feels a fishtail beating under my ribs. It has played a trick on me. It still belongs to the sea and the stars. It is swimming inside me and is separate while it eats me. I will carry it with me as long as necessary. After all, it is not as heavy, or as light, as Hjertrud.

  What mattered was not how it all happened but how people though
t it happened.

  She rose and tooked in the stove. Added more wood. Watched to make sure the fire destroyed the charred remains of Jacob’s will.

  That night no one heard Dina pacing the floor in travel boots with iron cleats on the heels.

  The sheriff brought a court clerk and two witnesses the next time he came.

  The old and the young widow sat erect at the oval table in the master bedroom, along with the men.

  Dina’s page with her recollections of Jacob’s last wishes was presented to those whom it concerned in the presence of witnesses.

  Johan was in Copenhagen, but Mother Karen was his guardian.

  Dina was dressed appropriately. In the black clothes that had been sewn for the funeral. Everyone in the house was summoned.

  They all stood around the table with bowed heads and heard Jacob’s words read in the sheriff’s booming bass voice. It was very dignified. Solemn.

  No one thought of a missing will. After all, there had been an accident. And it happened so quickly. God bless the master of the house! Their benefactor.

  Each person received some small remembrance. Everyone praised Jacob for thinking of them all.

  * * *

  The sheriff thought it unnecessary to state that Johan was to receive part of his inheritance to live on while he completed his studies. Parents had a duty to support their children in accordance with their status, without regarding it as an advance against their inheritance.

  But Dina smiled and shook her head.

  “We have no right to ignore that his father is dead”’ she wrote on the slate.

  The sheriff looked at his daughter with bewildered respect. Then he dictated Dinars wishes to the clerk. And Mother Karen nodded. The stamp was affixed.

  The sheriff gave a speech about his dead son-in-law and friend, and about his daughter, and urged everyone to show goodwill toward her. The estate needed a firm hand.

  Mother Karen sighed with relief. Life was continuing. Dina had come down from her room.

  The sun shone higher and higher. Soon it colored the northern skies at midnight.

  The seagulls shrieked, the ptarmigans laid eggs, and the choke-cherry blossomed.