Never Turn Back

by Lorna Lee

  Never Turn Back

  A Novel

  By

  Lorna Lee

  Cover Design by BespokeBookCovers.com

  Copyright © 2014 by Lorna Lee

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN 978-0-9888468-3-8

  Published by Early Girl Enterprises on Amazon Create Space

  Synopsis of Never Turn Back

  Meri Vaarsara had a dream and something to prove. She also had incredibly bad fortune and even worse timing.

  Her dream was to become a famous fashion designer in Paris, a dream born from a need to prove herself worthy of love and a happy life, something her stern Finnish mother never fostered but her seafaring father always knew was hers for the taking. So at the tender age of sixteen, Meri left the security of her family and her home for a country where she didn’t speak the language and she didn’t know a soul.

  Paris in the late 1920s was not friendly to immigrants, even those with extraordinary talents. Forced to find work as a domestic, Meri forged ahead through turns of fate and misfortune as Paris braced for Hitler’s invasion. By choice, Meri becomes a single mother caring for her half-Jewish daughter throughout the occupation of France. Once the war was over, she used her feminine wiles to find her way to America, the land of milk and honey, with the hope of finally being able to work as a designer in a New York fashion house. But that too was not to be, until fate and a kind stranger stepped in to help.

  Dedication

  For the only family I’ve ever really known: four amazing women and two incredible men.

  The women: my maternal grandmother about whose life this story is based; my mother—the person I admire most in this world; my older sister, Tina, who is the definition of generosity, support, and love; and my younger sister, Lisa Maija, who demonstrates courage and compassion with every breath.

  The men: my step-grandfather (married to my maternal grandmother) who whistled while he worked and taught me—his best pal and side-kick—lessons I will never forget; and my son, Alex, who is the best of me.

  Acknowledgements

  My many thanks go to the insightful and adept story analyst, Deb Norton. She gently guided this manuscript into a novel that will hopefully compel readers to keep turning the pages until the very end.

  I extend my deepest gratitude to my editor, Christine Keleny. Her keen eye and spot-on instincts for what makes a story and characters feel genuine transformed this manuscript into something more than a book—it’s an adventure we take together thanks to her.

  Peter O’Connor, the genius behind a web-based company called Bespoke Book Cover Designs, deserves my undying admiration and thanks for the provocative and professional book cover he designed for me. If it is true that people will judge a book by its cover, I believe that this book will be judged quite favorably because of his talents.

  To my beta readers and to the members of the writers group to which I belonged, thank you for your critical eyes, support, and encouragement.

  To Philip, I give my heart-felt gratitude for…well…everything.

  Finally, to the countless immigrants and their families who courageously came/come to America, I thank you for the richness you brought/bring to America with you. I thank you for your stories and I hope that you told/tell them and that someone listened/listens. These stories must be shared. Record them as either fact or fiction. They will enrich your personal family history and our collective social conscience in ways that only future generations will be able to attest to.

  Part 1

  (Finland, 1917-1923)

  Chapter 1: Escaping

  “Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.”

  Arthur Miller

  “Why are you leaving, Meri?” Jani’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Kulta, how many times must I tell you? I would wither away and die if I stayed in Raiso another week! My destiny is in Paris, not Finland. Grandmamma agrees.” Meri Vaarsara buckled the last strap on the leather satchel containing the trappings of her current life she would take on her journey, or, as she had referred to it for so long, her escape. She avoided her younger brother’s eyes, but could not help referring to him with the Finnish term of endearment her beloved Papa still used for her during the rare times they saw each other.

  “I’ll wither away and die without you! You can’t leave me here with just old Grandmamma and Papa whenever he decides to come back home for a little while. You can’t!”

  Mentioning Papa had an unnerving effect on Meri. At ten years old, Jani was old enough to understand their father’s lifelong love and commitment to his one true love: the sea. Yes, he’s away more than he’s with his family. I’ve never known it to be otherwise; but he loves us in his own way. Every time he comes home, he looks older and more broken. How many more voyages on his cargo ship does he have left in him before he, too, will stay in Raiso with his mother? Someone must take care of him and Grandmamma. Jani is the one. Mamma is dead. Our two older brothers died in the Winter War and our two older sisters have gone off to start families of their own. I’m almost twenty. It’s my time to start my life. I’ve done my service to my family. Poor Jani. He depends on me too much.

  “Jani. Stop being so dramatic. You’re the man of the house now. You can do it. When I was your age, I took care of you and you were just a baby. I was ten and I raised you without much help from Mamma. Mamma also gave me other chores to do and I never pleased her no matter how hard I tried. At least you won’t have any older brothers and sisters picking on you like they picked on me. Living with our sweet Grandmamma who dotes on you is easy compared to the life I had when I was your age.”

  “But you’re so much stronger than me. You know how to do everything.” Jani picked at the bed quilt while kicking the bed frame.

  The thump, thump, thump irritated Meri. “Jani, stop whining and stop kicking the bed. You’ll break it!” Meri scolded as she finally looked at the boy who was more like her son than her brother. She glanced at herself in the dresser mirror—one of only two mirrors in the small house. It’s now or never. I’m young and, if I do say so myself, good looking enough to be successful in Paris. Meri examined her reflection, grateful that the qualities her Papa loved so much about her when she was a child stayed with her as a young woman. She recalled him telling her one rare time when they were walking along the Tuuli Cliffs by the Baltic sea on a sunny afternoon, “I love the way the sun dances on your fine blonde wavy hair. It makes me think of winter grass in the sunlight. Unlike your mother’s coarse features, Meri, your face is so delicate.” He chuckled. “Your little lips are a mere line on the horizon a ship’s captain would set his sights on.” He pinched her short, slightly upturned nose. “The most distinctive features on your round face are your large eyes, Kulta. They’re the color of a gentle gray sky before the snow comes, but only when you’re happy. When you’re angry, those eyes of yours turn to a dark gray-green—the color of a stormy sea.” Meri looked at her reflection and studied her grey eyes. Then she assessed her compact, womanly frame. Yes, Paris will love me!

  Meri saw more than her reflection in the mirror. She saw her brother. Jani’s lower lip trembled. She scolded herself for being so self-absorbed when her brother was obviously in distress over her departure.

  “Everything will be all right, Kulta.”

  “I’m scared. I don’t want to be left here alone with Grandmamma.”

  Meri remembered feeling frightened. Her lower
lip trembled many times as a little girl. The worst time was when she lost track of time while foraging on their seaside property in Hirvensalo for wild berries. She wanted Mamma to make a pie as a special treat for the family. Maybe Mamma will be proud of me when I come home with a full basket of berries, she remembered thinking. Meri ran home when she realized that dusk neared its descent. She tripped and the berries scattered in colorful dots over the rocks and rough, sparse grass. Meri had no choice but to return home with the empty basket well after dark. She pounded on the locked door, peered into the locked windows to her family (minus Papa) inside, and pleaded to be allowed into her home. Her mother refused to let Meri inside. Meri, her empty basket, and bleeding knees spent a cold and frightening night alone outside. Mamma said only one thing to her through the locked door: “Maybe being independent like your father isn’t so good after all.” Meri trembled as she tried to shake off the memory of a seven year-old girl. Meri’s mother died over two years ago, but her ghost haunted Meri, something she would never admit.

  She sat on the bed Jani had been kicking and put her arm around his shoulders. “Kulta, a long time ago, Papa told me what my name means and it helped me feel strong and brave.

  “He did?”

  Meri nodded and smiled, remembering the special feeling aroused in her when her Papa, her hero, devoted precious time with her alone on his rare and short visits while his cargo ship was in port.

  “Tell me about it, Meri.”

  Meri sighed, torn between wanting to tell him all of the details etched in her memory of a precious conversation with her beloved father and the need to finish packing. “Very well. I was ten years old and Papa invited me to sit on his lap after dinner. The only place I ever felt safe was in Papa’s arms. On that night, he sent everyone into another room so he could talk only to me. I felt so special. Papa made me feel special. Mamma made me feel like a bad and worthless child. That’s why I loved Papa so much more than Mamma.”

  “But Mamma trusted you to raise me.” Jani gently poked Meri with his fist in the arm the way little brothers do.

  Meri smirked. “Trusted? No. I think she had her fill of raising children and wanted her other girls to play and have fun.” Realizing what she said might have been hurtful, Meri quickly added, “They lost out on all the fun we had, though, right?” She tenderly punched her brother’s arm.

  Jani smiled and nodded.

  “I found out later that Mamma wanted Papa to talk to me about my bad behavior. Papa didn’t really believe I could be the kind of troublemaker Mamma made me out to be, so he lectured me about trying to get along better with Mamma. He said, ‘You two are like inside and outside. You’re opposites, but you need each other. There must be an inside so there’s an outside to get out of.’”

  “What did he mean?”

  “At first, I didn’t know. I thought Papa had spent too much time in the sun with the sea gulls!” Jani giggled, which always softened Meri. Laughter bubbled out of her, too. “I think he meant Mamma and I had different things to offer each other if only we could get past the one thing we had in common: stubbornness. He tried to get me to see that we needed each other.”

  “When did he tell you about your name?”

  Meri laughed. “When I was too stubborn to accept that Mamma and I were alike. And he explained to me why she resented me so much.”

  Jani snuggled in closer to his sister.

  “I’ll never forget it, Jani. Papa told me he saw something special in me when I was born. Mamma had all her children while he was at sea…except for me. I was the only newborn babe of his that he held. That’s why we have a rare bond no one can ever break. He told me, ‘Because I was here, I chose your name. Momma named the others, but I named you.’ If a voice could swagger with pride, Jani, Papa’s did when he spoke about naming me.”

  “Really, Meri?”

  She nodded one definitive nod. “Do you know what Meri means?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued. “It means ‘the sea.’ Yes, he named me after his life and livelihood, Kulta. Do you know why?”

  “Why, Meri?” Jani’s question was barely a whisper, his eyes as wide as the full moon hovering over the horizon.

  “He said the sea is many different things. Gentle and fierce. Giving and taking. Above all, it’s proud. The sea regrets nothing. It always moves forward, leaving the past where it belongs—behind you. It never looks back. He saw the sea’s strength and, well, stubbornness in me the moment he held me in his arms. As he told me this, Papa’s eyes bore into me as if he was saying more than the words he was speaking. It was a magical moment I’ll never forget.”

  “So Mamma didn’t like you because Papa named you after the sea?”

  “Not only that. She had a very difficult time bringing me into the world, and Papa thinks she held a grudge against me. After four easy babies, I gave her a lot of trouble from the start. She vowed never to have another.”

  Jani jumped up from the bed to stand in front of Meri. “What? Then why am I here?”

  “That’s a question I can’t answer, my dear boy. I can say I’m glad you’re here and maybe that’s how I ended up raising you. Aren’t you curious about what your name means?”

  “Yes, but who named me?” Jani, still standing, looked down and scuffed his shoes on the wooden floor.

  “With Papa away at sea as usual, your name came from…” Meri reached over and lifted up Jani’s chin. “…Me!”

  Jani leapt into Meri’s lap, knocking them both over onto the bed. “Tell me what it means! Tell me! Tell me!”

  “Get off me, you fool!” Meri caught a whiff of the clean soapy smell of his hair and the hint of rose water that infused everything in Grandmamma’s house. I’ll miss him and this place so much.

  “Jani means ‘consecrated to God.’ I chose the name because you truly are a miracle, born ten years after Mamma swore never to have another baby and, lo and behold, you became my ally in our family. Jani, you’re blessed and protected by Divine powers. You don’t need to know everything. Your life is sheltered by the angels of God!”

  “Really, Meri? Do you believe that?”

  Meri smiled, remembering her reaction when Papa told her the meaning of her name. She was hoping for the same effect for Jani: incredulity mixed with an overwhelming boost in self-confidence. “Yes, I do, Jani. With all my heart. I couldn’t leave you if I didn’t.”

  They were standing now, Meri resuming her preparations to depart. I can’t let sentiment get in the way of my dreams.

  “Maybe I should come with you to protect you?”

  Meri shook her head and smiled a wry smile. “Oh, Kulta, you’re so young, and I don’t know exactly where my journey will end. I can take care of myself but not both of us. You must stay here and protect Grandmamma and Papa when he comes home. They need your help more than I ever will.” She leaned forward and touched his nose with her finger, a private gesture of endearment between them.

  Jani shook his head. “I want to protect you, not them!”

  Meri laughed. “Who do you think needs more help—your old Grandmamma and sea-worn Papa or your big, strong, smart sister?”

  “Well…” Jani cracked a smile, which he immediately suppressed. “When you’re settled, will you let me visit? Even you could get lonely.”

  “Perhaps, Jani. We’ll see.” Meri knew she would never send for her younger brother, but she didn’t have the heart to dash his hopes. He would miss her more than she would miss him. The one left behind always does the most missing. She thought of all those years she bartered with the sea: Bring my cherished Papa back safely and I will make my stubborn mother see the good and special girl my father sees.

  Meri continued, “I’m not traveling alone, Jani.”

  “You’re not?” Jani’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under his brown bangs.

  “No. Kaija is coming with me. We’ve been planning this trip for years.” Kaija was Meri’s age. She lived several houses down the street. They met shortly after the Vaarsara fam
ily moved to Raisio. Their friendship started in school but quickly extended beyond the confines of the school yard. Like Meri, Kaija wanted more from life than to marry and have a family. She, too, longed to explore the world. Kaija devised the plan for them to go to Paris and become fashion designers. She observed how adept Meri was with lace work, and Kaija worked as a seamstress in Raisio. Neither Meri nor her grandmother had ever heard of Paris or France before Kaija mentioned them.

  Both girls had been saving up the meager markkaa they earned in various odd jobs as teenagers, then in more steady employment after graduating from school. Meri had worked in a small office doing clerical and housekeeping work for the past two years. Kaija’s work as a seamstress paid a meager, but living wage. While both girls had attended social events and met young men, only Kaija had a fairly regular suitor. She assured Meri “It’s nothing serious,” and she swore he would not interfere with their long-standing escape plan.

  Jani interrupted Meri’s thoughts by saying, “I’m glad you won’t be alone, Meri. You’re strong, yes, but you’re still a girl. And girls shouldn’t be by themselves in strange places.”

  “Who told you that?” Meri put her hand on her hips and narrowed her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling.

  “I don’t know. I just know.” Jani folded his ten-year-old arms across his chest to punctuate his certainty.

  “Well, Jani. For a little boy, you’re already talking like a grown up. You’ll be just fine as the man of this house until Papa returns. Now I have to go. Kaija is waiting for me. Kiss me for luck!”

  Jani hugged Meri, his head firmly planted in her chest. “Please don’t leave me here alone, Meri. Please…” His muffled plea carried a clear message: he was afraid to be without the only mother he ever really knew. Jani clung to her.

  Meri held him for a long embrace then kissed the top of his head. I can’t look into his face. I want my memory of him to be of his smile and bright eyes, not of a teary-eyed, frightened boy. But my mind is made up. Papa always said, “Once you make a plan, don’t ever turn back, Kulta.” Turning back is the coward’s way. We’re strong and proud people. Brave people like you and me always move forward, never back.” I have to stick with my plan. Mamma never thought I would amount to anything. Only Papa believed in me. I won’t turn back, Papa. I won’t.