“That’s my Leini…no lead-in, but jump right in.”
“Yes, because I’d disappear in preambles and lose my courage. You have the explanations, at least I hope so.” For an instant she closed her eyes. After a deep breath, she spoke. “Mira’s behavior toward me was abominable, and that’s an understatement. She mistreated me—all my life—in so many ways.”
At the mention of Mira’s name, Karl’s head came up with a jerk, his eyes resting on Leini.
“I know for a fact all of you, Papi, Grandpa and Grandma Britta knew about her behavior. What puzzles me is why none of you interfered? Only Papi dared take my side, for what good it did. Why did you let her abuse me, neglect me emotionally, belittle me? You kept telling me how much you loved me, but where were you, Karl, and my grandparents when she treated me with scorn, called me all kinds of ugly names, didn’t talk to me sometimes for weeks on end? Why didn’t anybody stop her?” Leini took a gulp from her drink, swirling the cool water to soothe her mouth, scorched as if touched by a flame.
“Oh, Leini. What can I say?”
“You can tell me the truth. Were you all cowards or just indifferent? Or is there a good reason for why you let her do as she pleased with me?”
For an instant Karl rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stared at the dark window. When he turned to gaze at Leini, his look was frank, eyes dark with what she read as pain.
“I’m not surprised you’re asking.” His voice was coarse. Before he spoke again he cleared his throat. “I knew you were going to bring this up one day. I can understand that you need explanations.”
“You bet I need explanations.” And they will put my mind to rest. It would be unbearable to know those I trusted betrayed me.
“You’re right, all of us knew what was going on. We talked about it often between us. “What are we going to do about Mira? How are we going to stop her from being so cruel to Leini?” She was loving and nurturing with Samy, so we kept wondering why she was so abominable with you.
“Both Grandpa and Grandma Britta tried to talk to her. I know of at least one incidence when Grandpa told her he’d hire a lawyer to remove you from her care if she didn’t change her ways. As a result, Grandpa was forbidden so see you.” He took a sip from his snifter. “Don’t you remember the time when, for several months, Grandpa didn’t visit your home, and you weren’t allowed to go to your grandparents’?”
Eyes half-closed, she sorted out memories. Then she nodded. “Sure. Mira told me Grandpa was traveling. He was away for a long time. But there was no trip, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s right. When he opposed Mira, Grandpa became persona non grata. Grandma Britta fetched you from school so she could spend time with you, but she didn’t visit you at home either. Solidarity to Grandpa, you know. At some point during this period, Grandma tried to talk to Mira. The result was Mira forbid Grandma Britta to see you, as well.”
Leini was taking it all in. She had vague recollections of times when she didn’t see either grandparent. At the time, Mira’s explanations sounded plausible, before she grew wise to Mira’s flimsy attitude to truth. Suddenly, she gasped and she opened eyes wide.
“Oh! It’s coming to me now. A few days after my first eye operation, Mira fired the night nurse Grandpa had paid to watch over me. Grandpa said he was going to call her back. They argued; Mira threatened that if he did, he wouldn’t see me again.” She stopped talking, still hearing Mira’s shrill voice, Grandpa’s baritone tremulous with emotion. “I remember how I kept hoping he wouldn’t ask the nurse back because I couldn’t stand not to see him.” Her hand flew to her hair to twine a lock.
“I’m glad you remember so you don’t have to take my word for it. I assure you, Leini, your grandparents did what they thought was in your best interest. They had two choices: either they confronted Mira with her behavior or they kept quiet. They chose not to say anything so they could stay close to you. Right or wrong, it was a decision dictated by their love for you. I know they reasoned that if they didn’t antagonize Mira, they could better protect you.” Karl sighed. “During the times they weren’t allowed to see you, I visited them often to bring news about you. They suffered from knowing what you had to endure. We all did.” Turning his head, he narrowed his eyes, staring at the new moon. “As to Papi…”
She put a hand on his arm. “I can’t hold Papi accountable. He did what he could to protect me from Mira. When I was with him, I felt good about myself; nothing seemed very bad. I always knew he loved me.
“Once when he tried to leave Mira, she faked a suicide to make him return. Papi wanted peace at any price. I’ve talked to him on a couple of occasions, so I know he was exhausted to a point where he had neither the strength nor the will to fight her. And he lacked the courage to leave her.”
Karl nodded. “All of what you’re saying is true.” He passed a hand over his face as if to wipe away the memories of a sick relationship. “It’s so very sad. Your father is a kind, warmhearted man. When he was younger, he used to be a lot of fun, had a great sense of humor. Life with Mira has changed him. He’s lost some of the oomph that used to make him such great company. Seems to me he’s resigned to live out his life on the sidelines, a detached observer, not the enthusiastic participant he was years ago.”
She fumbled in the pockets of her slacks, found a tissue and dabbed at tears coursing down her cheeks. Papi used to be so full of life and laughter, generous and spontaneous. I didn’t see him change, but one day I noticed he was different. Leini heaved a deep sigh. “When this part of my past intruded on me not long ago, I thought Grandpa and Grandpa Britta didn’t do anything to stop Mira from mistreating me. I can see now did the best they could.” She smiled. “I’m relieved to know they acted from love.
“Papi chose to live with Mira. I always wanted him to leave, wanted him to take me with him and run. I still wish he’d left her. Poor Papi, he pays a hefty price for the choice he made.” She pulled so hard on the lock of hair between her fingers she winced from the searing pain in her scalp. “It’s cost me, too.” With a shudder of unease, like the current of cold air passing through her, she gazed at Karl. “That leaves you.” Sensing that he was about to speak, she held up a hand. “No, wait. You were a frequent visitor in our home. You knew about Mira’s terrible behavior toward me. I still remember the time you came to talk to me after my operation. You knew how she was with me, but what did you do? Why didn’t you make her stop?”
He leaned close, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Every opportunity I had, I confronted her about the way she treated you. Her reaction was the same as to your grandparents; she was furious, tried to forbid me to visit, refused to let me have any contact with you.” He shrugged. “Mira had no hold on me—she couldn’t frighten or intimidate me. I saw you anyway. I came to see you in the daytime when I knew she was at work. I phoned. I met you after school.
“As I said, Mira had no hold on me, but I had no leverage either. Although I’m her brother I’m sure she would have cut me off without a moment’s hesitation. I couldn’t stop her behavior or make her change. And I couldn’t remove you from her. Like you, I tried talking to Papi about leaving her, but not having been married myself I could only respect the dynamics of Mira’s and his relationship, his reasons for staying with her. And of course there was Samy. He was an important factor in your father’s decision.” Again he wiped his face with the flat of a hand. “I couldn’t love you more if you were my own daughter.”
The catch in his voice didn’t escape her.
“I mean it, Leini. Maybe I could have done more to protect you. I really don’t know.” He rose, pulling her into his arms, holding her in a tender embrace. “Please believe me; if I could have made things better for you, I would have. I swear I would.”
Leini stood in the circle of his arms, cheek pressed against his, inhaling the familiar scent of cigar and lemon in his cologne. Her gratitude was profound—she couldn’t have survived Mira’s cruelty and neg
lect without the love of these people. Without them she would have gone over the edge. Her heart lifted. They hadn’t betrayed her, none of them.
She kissed Karl first on one cheek, then the other. A smile stretched her lips. “Thank you for talking to me. It’s helped me realize you all did the best you could. Together you protected me against being too damaged. Every one of you was the shield I needed against Mira. I’ll hold on to that knowledge.” She chuckled. “I’ve heard it said: ‘What won’t kill me, will strengthen me.’ Maybe my past will serve to make me stronger. I hope I’ll be a better person for it, one day when I grow up.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes, Karl. My therapist wants me to forgive Mira. Knowing that you all loved me, my feelings towards her are softening. Your love is going to help me forgive her.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “I have so much in my life that makes me happy, so I want to forgive her, leave it all behind me.” I do, and I will.
Chapter 42
Geneva and Helsinki, November 1996
Leaning into the pillows against the headboard, Leini’s gaze was lost in the sunbathed landscape outside the bedroom window. The birch leaves danced and swirled in the gusting wind, the proud trunk shimmering silvery as it reached skyward. Alone in the warmth of her bed, her mind wandered to the years gone by, the passage of time having dealt her great joy in Hannele and Yigal, now adults, both successful in their chosen professions. A smile sat on her lips at the thought of her daughter’s career in social services with an international organization, and her Yigal living in Finland, a CEO in a large multi-national company.
Now in her fifties, Leini enjoyed retirement from Schurr & Co. after a great career as European supervisor for their employee assistance program. Her love for Bill was vibrant, maybe calmer, more mature, but certainly as strong as in their early days together. I’m truly blessed.
Leini now punched the pillows to get a more comfortable position while she expected Mira’s weekly phone call, a habit she established after Papi passed a few years ago. When the phone rang she answered on the first ring. “Hello, Mira?”
“No, this is Samy.”
Puzzled, she creased her brow. Samy wasn’t in the habit of calling her. Then her heart started slamming in her breast. Must be serious if he is phoning me. “Hi. How are you?” Playing for time.
“I’m calling about Mamma. There’s no gentle way to say this.” For an instant, the line went silent. “Mamma passed away earlier this morning.”
Leini sat straight in the bed, her breath caught on an intake of air. “What are you saying? How…what happened?”
“I went to visit her, as I usually do on Sundays. When she didn’t open the door on my ring, I used my own key to let myself in. I found her in bed, unresponsive, so I called for an ambulance. When she got to the hospital, it was too late.” A pause, as over the line, she heard him sniffle. “Mamma’s gone.”
Distraught and unfocused, she twined a lock of hair, pulling at it hard. After releasing the tress, she rubbed at the burning spot.
“Oh, Samy, I’m sorry.” And wished she had better words, more words to express her sadness, to share in his pain. “As soon as I get off the phone I’ll make arrangements to come to Helsinki with Bill and Hannele. We’ll be on the first available flight.”
“Please do. We need to be together.”
Replacing the receiver, reluctant, Leini left the shelter of her bed. She craved Bill’s presence, needed to talk to him and Hannele.
* * *
Outside the old apartment building, as she was about to sit next to Bill in the car on their way to see her mother to her final resting place, Leini caught sight of the Finnish flag flying at half mast. In keeping with the country’s custom, Harry flew the flag to announce a life had ended for one of the residents in the building. Tears pooled in her eyes at the sight. The flag’s true blue cross against its white background always moved her, this proud symbol of young Finland’s independence.
“So many people,” Leini whispered to Samy at the cemetery, her breath a white cloud in the cold air. A light snowfall accompanied them into the chapel that kept filling with relatives and friends come to pay their last respects to Mira, their condolences to the family. Leini pulled the coat tighter around her. Catching Harry smiling at her, she wiggled her fingers in response. Dear Harry, retiring at the end of the year. He’s been in my life since after the War, like a father. How well she remembered how he used to caress circles on her back when she was a young girl, home from school, cold after the long trek, headachy after too many hours of eye strain.
With Hannele by her side, Bill on the other, Yigal next to him, Leini sat in the front pew. A hand fell on her shoulder. Turning, she recognized Karl, half turned to kiss him on the cheek. What a blessing that he was about to liquidate his antique business and apartment in Helsinki. He’ll live near us in Geneva; we can visit, be a family.
Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized Paula. Leini raised a hand and blew her a kiss. Sweet, sweet Paula, my only friend from childhood. Gratitude moved inside that she’d come, reminding herself to invite her to the apartment after the funeral, for coffee.
Before leaving Geneva, Leini phoned Vickie to tell her about Mira.
“My deepest sympathy, Leini. I wish I could be with you now, but my job won’t allow it on such short notice.”
“Thank you, I know you would.”
“Maybe it’s comforting to think Mira’s at peace now.” Vickie’s tone had been sincere. “Despite drinking to excess and a severe food problem, she’s lived to be quite old, which is amazing.”
“Poor Mira, she never knew how to let go. Maybe hanging on helped her survive all these years.”
“Happy landing. My thoughts are with you.”
Dear Vickie. What a faithful friend. Most likely, Bill and I wouldn’t be together today if it hadn’t been for Vickie’s intervention all those years ago when I wanted to leave him, fearful of being hurt.
The day before the funeral, Leini took a quick look into freezer and fridge in Mira’s apartment. She was stunned to discover quantities of food enough to feed a large family for a month. The medicine cabinet in the bedroom as well as Mira’s bedside table were cram-full of tranquilizers and sleeping pills. When she found several vials of a potent diet pill, she stood for a long time, amazed but also saddened at what she understood was Mira’s distorted body image. At the time of her death she weighed no more than eighty-five pounds, but judging by the diet pills she still believed she was overweight. Leini had another shock as she discovered bottle after bottle of alcohol in the well-stocked bar, but also squirreled away in the linen closet and under Mira’s bed.
The funeral ceremony was short—a prayer; a man Leini didn’t recognize gave a speech meant to bring solace to the family; another prayer, and it was over.
Outside, the flurry of snow had stopped. As the pall bearers carried the coffin, the air was chilly and still. The distance to the open grave was but a few paces. Such a short journey after a long life.
Bill draped his arms around Leini’s and Hannele’s shoulders. Yigal stood on Leini’s other side, an arm hooked in hers. The memory of Papi’s passing eight years ago was vivid in Leini’s mind. Then, too, she learned the news about it over the phone. Mira called, her tearful voice ringing in Leini’s ear. “It’s too much. I can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that, snuffed out like a candle.”
“Was he all right before?” Leini needed to understand, to find meaning in the meaningless.
“Of course he was.” Mira hiccupped. “He had his annual checkup last week. He was fine, apart from high cholesterol, but he took pills. This morning he was about to have his breakfast. He said, cholesterol or no cholesterol, he wanted two eggs fried sunny side up. He started eating. I heard clatter. When I looked at him, he was slumped over his plate.” Mira’s voice was thick as if her mouth was stuffed with gauze. “I tried to move him. He was so heavy.”
A sob left Leini�
��s lips, the tears cold on her cheeks. Papi, too, was buried during a snowfall, the world so silent Leini thought she could hear the flakes fall to the ground. Eight years. Time heals, but I’ll always miss him terribly.
Samy now recited the mourner’s prayer over their mother’s open grave. He took a shovelful of earth and let it drop on the coffin.
In turn, Leini took a step forward. Shaking her head at the proffered spade, she scooped a fistful of soil. Opening her hand, she let the earth drop onto the coffin together with a single white rose. As she heard the hollow thud of earth on wood, Leini shivered at the dull sound of finality.
“Good bye, Mamma.”
The End
About the Author
Rayne E. Golay was born in Helsinki. After receiving her master’s degree in psychology, she studied chemical dependence and related disorders in the United States and England. She moved to Geneva and worked in a multinational company as their employee assistance professional and addictions counselor. In this job, she was responsible for the company’s all-European subsidiaries. During her twenty-five years of employment, she wrote two nonfiction books, one on alcoholism and another on dysfunction in the workplace. She also wrote the script for Something of the Danger That Exists, a 50-minute film used within the company as part of an educational program she facilitated.
Rayne is a past two-term president of Southwest Florida Romance Writers Association, and a member of both Romance Writers of America and Gulf Coast Writers Association.
She makes her home in southwest Florida with her husband, David.
The award-winning novel The Wooden Chair is her second book.
www.raynegolay.com
The Wooden Chair Page 32