The Wooden Chair

by Rayne E. Golay

In a flash of insight Leini knew she didn’t like Mamma. Not as before.

  In bed that night, thinking of the walk with Mamma, Leini didn’t want to remember the slaps Mamma had dealt her, but couldn’t help remembering them. I only wanted to tell her she has beautiful eyes.

  * * *

  Loud voices and merry laughter woke Leini. Sitting in bed she cocked her head, listening. Glasses perched on her nose, she crept to the door and opened it without a sound. Grandma Britta’s soft giggle, then Grandpa’s deeper chuckle reached her—and a man’s voice, familiar, but one she couldn’t place. She tiptoed down a few stairs until, by squatting low, she could peer into the kitchen. Mamma sat on the bench, her back against the wall. Next to her sat a man…. Oh, yes, Karl!

  Before she could stop herself, she sneezed. They all turned their heads to stare at her in surprise. Grandma Britta rose and took Leini in her arms, crooning to her softly. “My little dove, did our laughter wake you?”

  Leini rubbed her eyes before burrowing her face in Grandma Britta’s neck.

  Grandpa kissed the back of her hand, then held it in his. “Look, Karl’s here. He came to see us off at the railway station. And he gave you a coloring book.”

  “That’s over a month ago. Maybe Leini doesn’t remember?” Karl voice was like a soft hum.

  “I remember.” She slid off Grandma Britta’s lap. By the stove she rummaged in the big wicker basket where she kept all her treasures, found the book and held it aloft for everybody to see. “This book.” Her lips pulled to a wide grin, so pleased with herself.

  Karl slid a packet in white paper across the table. “I have a special treat for you.” Coaxing, when she hesitated, “Don’t be shy. Open it.”

  As she was about to take the gift, Mamma grabbed her by the wrist. “I’ve told you a million times what to say when you receive something.”

  Leini’s wrist stung from Mamma’s tight grip. She glanced at Karl and muttered, “Thank you.”

  With an elbow, Karl poked Mamma in the side. “That’s all right, Mira.” He smiled at Leini. “See if you like it.”

  Inching onto the bench next to Grandpa, Leini tore open the paper to reveal a red box with gold letters and a red bow printed on top. After she lifted the lid, she stared at rows of brown balls and squares, each in its little case of brown paper cups. Puzzled, she leaned closer for a better look. She held the box in both hands, not daring to touch those round things.

  Karl made room for her next to him. “Come sit with me.” He held one of the round balls between thumb and forefinger. “Here, taste it.”

  She pressed her back against the wall, heart beating so fast she could feel it throb in her throat as she pressed chin against chest.

  “Come on, girl, don’t be silly.” Mamma’s voice was stern. “Open your mouth; it’s chocolate.”

  Leini took a small bite from the thing Karl held. She gulped air in surprise as the sweet taste exploded on her tongue, making her mouth very wet. It was good. Leini had never tasted anything so wonderful, so…so round and full.

  Karl popped the rest of the chocolate in her mouth. “Do you like it?”

  Sucking and munching, curls bouncing as she nodded.

  “This is yours,” Karl said as he slid the box close to her. “Don’t eat them too fast or you’ll get a tummy ache. You’re not used to chocolates.”

  She glanced at him from under her brow. “Just one more?”

  “Sure, one more.”

  Staring at the chocolates for a moment, she selected one that was like a heart. With eyes half-closed, leaning against Karl, she let it melt in her mouth. A sigh of contentment escaped her. She didn’t move away when Karl hugged her to him. With her ear pressed against his side she listened to the boom-boom of his heart. He’s nice. Before she could hide it a yawn got away.

  “You’re sleepy, my dove.” Grandma Britta held a hand to her. “Come, I’ll take you to bed, tuck you in.”

  Before she took Grandma Britta’s hand, Leini glanced at Karl. “Go to bed, little Leini. I’ll be here in the morning. We’ll go out together. Grandpa told me you have a bunny. Will you take me to see him?”

  Too sleepy to speak, she quickly touched the backside of his hand and nodded.

  During the few days Karl was there, Leini laughed and sang, her step light and heart full. He made a swing for her and sent her flying so high she screamed with excitement and delight as her stomach tickled. He drew pictures with the crayons—of Aladdin’s lamp, of Whitey and of the cows.

  “Draw more,” she begged.

  And he drew a picture of a man, only his face. “Can you tell who this is?”

  Moving her head back the better to see, she stared at the picture for a moment. “Papi?”

  He ruffled her hair. “My, oh my, but aren’t you smart. Yes, it’s a drawing of Papi.”

  They played with Whitey, and Karl climbed to the loft with her to admire the kittens, which were now scampering in the hay, catching dust motes in the sunrays. Karl held her on his lap and sang to her.

  “I love you, my best girl.” And he hugged her to him.

  With her forehead pressed against his, she nodded. “I love you, too, Uncle Karl.”

  On a windy day, the sky so low the blue billowing clouds touched the ground, he left. She stood on the front step watching through a curtain of drab rain and misty eyes as Kalevi snapped the reins against the horse’s rump. She kept her eyes trained on the receding carriage until it was lost from sight, swallowed by the dense forest.

  Wordless, Grandpa took her in his arms. She pressed her face against his shoulder as she let all the loneliness and sadness explode in sobs.

  Chapter 8

  Veteli and Helsinki, September 1943

  As she turned the knob on the radio for a music station, Leini gazed through the rain-spattered kitchen window. The low-slung, nearly leafless branches of the birch in the yard swayed and twisted in the high wind. She shivered in the warm kitchen; the short summer was over.

  “What are you doing, my princess?”

  Grandpa’s voice startled her. She swiveled around to face him as he crossed the floor to sit on the bench close to her.

  She resumed turning the knob, getting only static. “I’m looking at the rain.”

  “Here, let me try to find some music for you.” After some jarring gurgle and prattle, Grandpa happened on a station playing popular Finnish tunes. “Do you like this?”

  Nodding, she leaned elbows on the counter. Content, her body bobbed to the rhythm of the polka.

  “Such a bleak day.” Grandpa smiled, his kind brown eyes surrounded by tiny wrinkles. “The weather is still sunny and quite warm in Helsinki, but this far north it’s already fall.” He took Leini’s hand, pulling her to him. With her on his knee, he leaned his cheek against her head. “The news on the radio last night was wonderful; the war is over.”

  The better to see Grandpa’s face, Leini leaned away from him. “Is the war really over?”

  “Yes, my princess, but only the Continuation War, not the World War.”

  “Conti…? Continu…War?”

  “This must be confusing to you. Let’s see if I can explain it so you’ll understand.” Grandpa’s smile brought wrinkles under his eyes. “You see, Finland and Russia are fighting. We call it the Continuation War, because Finland isn’t in World War II, the big war in Europe.”

  Sounds from the radio caught her attention. Pressing fingers against Grandpa’s lips to still him, she tilted her head, listening with rapt attention.

  “Boum, boum, boum boouum.” After the short bass passage of music, a male announcer came on amid some static. “This is Voice of America.” She listened, caught the words “war” and “Finland” and “help,” but didn’t understand everything. “What’s the man saying, Grandpa?”

  “It’s a news bulletin. He says the war in Finland is over, that America will send Care parcels to Finland because we have so little food.”

  “Oh.” Eyes lost in the driving rain out
side, she thought. “That’s very good. I love America.”

  Grandpa only hugged her in response.

  The hand that squeezed his was a little damp as she gazed at him. “If the war is over Papi’s coming home, isn’t he?”

  “Soon, Leini. I don’t know when, but it won’t be long. The great thing is we can all go home to Helsinki.”

  “We can? When? Today?” She didn’t quite remember Helsinki. Now home was Veteli and Whitey and running free in the meadows.

  Grandpa hugged her close. “We’ll leave as soon as we’ve packed our things. In a few days, I think.”

  * * *

  Everywhere Leini noticed cartons and suitcases. She watched as Grandpa and Grandma Britta rushed here and there, carrying things to stuff into the already full bags. Mamma moved slowly, her tummy so big Leini thought it would burst.

  In the evening, Leini lay in bed munching on an apple. She was thirsty. The usual water glass wasn’t on the bedside table. She wondered if she dared ask for a drink now that Mamma was already upstairs, getting ready for bed.

  “Mamma,” she said in her softest voice. “I’d like a glass of water, please. I’m thirsty.”

  Mamma shook her head. “You can’t drink after you’ve just had an apple.”

  “Why not?”

  “Stop asking questions. Because you ate the core, the water will make the seeds swell in your stomach. Then you’ll have a tummy as huge as mine.” She patted her round belly beneath an ankle-length nightgown. Placing Maia on the pillow next to Leini’s head, Mamma pulled the covers over her shoulders.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow for Helsinki. It’s going to be a long trip, so go to sleep.”

  Leini kept turning, too worried to settle. The tight covers came undone and twined around her legs. She was afraid that the apple seeds growing in Mamma’s belly would get very big. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to Mamma then. Is she going to blow up? Leini couldn’t sleep, she was so afraid for Mamma. She kept twisting and turning, the sheets getting all tangled.

  Then a thought startled her to stillness. Mamma will get on the train and not take me with her. She will lose me as before. Tears she couldn’t stop soaked into the pillow.

  Leini pressed her hands together in prayer, but could only whisper, “Please God…” not knowing what she wanted to say. Then she remembered she wasn’t alone with Mamma. Grandpa and Grandma Britta are here! They won’t forget me, they won’t let Mamma leave me. That’s for sure. She breathed easier, the thought calming her. “Thank you, God, for Grandpa and Grandma Britta.” Her mind turned to all the things she wanted to take with her to Helsinki, the things she was going to show Papi when he came home from the war, sometime soon now.

  The next morning, Leini only had a few things to pack. Grandma Britta helped her fill a small carton with her one coloring book, the pencils along with some dried flowers she kept between sheets of newspaper, and a smooth, shiny stone in the shape of a heart she found by the pond. Also, all the paper dolls and their clothes Grandma Britta had helped her cut out and the box of chocolates Karl gave her, now empty, even the smell gone.

  “I must take along all the photos Grandpa took of Whitey and me,” she said, undecided where to put them so they were safe. “And Papi’s drawing…the one Karl made.”

  Grandma Britta found an old envelope which she stuck between the covers of Scheherazade.

  “They’ll be all right there, don’t you think?”

  “I think,” Leini answered.

  With Grandma Britta’s help, she carried the carton downstairs to place it with all the others.

  Grandpa hugged her to him. “After breakfast we’ll go to say good-bye to Whitey.”

  Leini nodded. She was glad to return to Helsinki. Maybe Papi would come home soon. At the same time she was sad to leave Veteli. All her friends had already returned to their homes. She missed them, feeling alone now they were gone. She squeezed Grandpa’s hand as they followed the path dusted with snow from last night.

  “Grandpa, can’t we take Whitey to Helsinki? Please, Grandpa.”

  “My princess, I wish we could, but Whitey would be very unhappy in an apartment. He’d miss the grass and fresh air.”

  Her eyes misted, throat too tight for talking. Sadness was like a dense fog inside. She inhaled a tremulous breath.

  In the henhouse, she played with Whitey a long time, while Grandpa sat silent on a stool watching them. When it was time to go, she held Whitey against her cheek as if to imprint the feel of his soft fur on her mind. She kissed his little wet nose. Caressing the long ears, she whispered, “I love you, Whitey. I’ll always, always think of you.”

  She placed Whitey in his cage, carefully securing the little door. Whitey sniffed the finger she poked through the netting. Soon, tempted by carrot stalks on the other side of the pen, he turned away from her to start munching.

  Grandpa took her in his arms, holding her close. With her head buried against his shoulder, she let the tears flow. Grandpa stroked a gentle caress over her hair, again and again.

  “I know it’s hard, Leini. It hurts to say good-bye. Try to think of all the good times you had with Whitey—they are good memories.”

  Nodding, she raised her wet face to his. With a weak smile, she handed him the smeared glasses.

  “Please make them clean, Grandpa.”

  * * *

  The train ride to Helsinki was long, with many stops. Upon entering the apartment building where they lived, Mamma scrutinized the empty foyer.

  “Hmm,” she said. “Harry must still be in the army or he’d be here.”

  This was a new name to Leini. “Harry? Who’s Harry?”

  “You were too small when he was called up, you can’t remember him. Harry Nordman, he’s our doorman.” The corners of Mamma’s mouth pulled down in displeasure. “It’s a nuisance he’s still away. I’d counted on him to be here to give me a hand with getting the apartment fixed the way it was before the war.” Mamma sighed.

  The annoyance in Mamma’s voice stopped Leini from asking what a doorman was. It was better to wait until Harry returned so she could see for herself.

  Leini remembered the elevator was out of order before they left for Veteli, but it was now functioning. While the cage climbed to the fifth floor, Leini huddled in a corner, frightened by the purr of the elevator as it rose, feeling dizzy from the lift shaft as it rushed by faster than her eyes could follow.

  In the apartment, Leini trailed Mamma from room to room. She’d forgotten what her home was like. Throughout the day something bad churned inside, as if she wanted to throw up but not quite. Nothing was like it was in Veteli. She wrinkled her nose at the strange smells, not as nice as the house in Veteli, filled with the aroma of brewing coffee and fresh bread.

  Under her bed she discovered her dolls and toys. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled them out, one after the other.

  Whispering, she hugged the bear to her breast. “Hey, Björn. I’ve been away for a long time, but now I’m home.” She patted his head. “I’m going to stay here now, not leave you alone again. Soon my papi will be home. Mamma’s going to get me a sister or brother, and we’ll be all together. Isn’t that nice?” She continued talking to her toys until Mamma’s shrill voice interrupted her.

  “Wash your hands, girl. Dinner’s ready.”

  In Veteli, the big kitchen had been warm from wood crackling in the stove. There had been music from the radio, talk and laughter in the air. Here the kitchen was cold. Mamma kept stirring her carrot stew, not really eating at all. She didn’t say anything, and Leini was afraid to talk. She was sad without Grandma Britta and Grandpa. And Kalevi. He used to be so quiet she sometimes forgot about him, but during the meals, he was always there, head bent over his food.

  In bed, Leini prayed time would go faster so she’d have her baby brother or sister to play with.

  * * *

  In the bedroom, Leini watched Mamma pack two small suitcases, one for Leini to take to Grandpa and
Grandma Britta’s, the other one for Mamma.

  “I’m going away for a few days to get your little sister or brother. While I’m gone you’re going to stay with Grandpa and Grandma.”

  Like a rippling brook, joy leaped in Leini’s chest that she’d be staying with them. Her gladness dimmed a little as a thought crept into her mind; would Mamma forget her while she was gone?

  “Will you go away for a long time, Mamma?”

  “As long as it takes.” She handed her Björn and Maia. “You can take both of them if you want.”

  Leini hugged the toys, burying her face in Björn’s soft fur so Mamma wouldn’t see her tears.

  She loved staying with Grandma Britta and Grandpa. She slept in the big room next to their bedroom. The first night she dreamt she was in a vast open place, like the market in Helsinki. There were no people wherever she looked. She knew Mamma was somewhere close by, but turning this way and that she couldn’t see her anywhere.

  “Mamma! Mamma, where are you? Come back. Please don’t leave me.” She awoke, hair plastered to forehead, sheets twisted around her body. With the corner of the sheet she wiped her tear-stained face as she struggled to sit up, heart pounding so hard her body trembled.

  “There, there, my little dove,” Grandma Britta whispered as she held her close. She carried Leini to her own bed and settled next to her. Inhaling Grandma Britta’s faint flowery perfume, Leini snuggled close, safe in her arms, the bad dream slowly vanishing.

  * * *

  The radio played music all day long. When Grandma Britta didn’t read to Leini, she played the piano, teaching Leini where the note “do” was on the white keys. One morning Grandma came to sit next to Leini on the piano stool as Leini picked out notes with one finger.

  “Mamma is in the hospital. She’s had your little brother.”

  Leini stared at Grandma Britta. “A brother?” She’d waited so long for him—or her—now she could hardly believe she heard right. “Did the stork bring him?”

  Grandma Britta’s gentle gray-blue eyes blinked rapidly as she smiled. “Yes, it did, my dove. You’ll stay with Grandpa and me for a while, until Mamma leaves the hospital and is strong enough to look after you and Samy.” Grandma Britta caressed Leini’s hair. “Your brother’s name is Samy.”