Sophie's Dilemma

by Lauraine Snelling

  ‘‘Are you all right, dear?’’ Mrs. Soderstrum whispered in her ear as she went around refilling coffee cups.

  ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘You’re just a mite pale. I worry about you.’’

  ‘‘No, I’m better.’’ She had dumped her chamber pot in the slop pail on her way down to breakfast so no one would know. ‘‘No need to worry.’’

  But when the same thing happened three days in a row and once on the way home from work, she’d begun to worry herself. Should she tell someone? What if something was seriously wrong? If only she could talk with her mother.

  Two days later the smell of the cannery line made her gag. She fought the feeling all morning until suddenly the world around her tilted, and the next thing she knew she was lying on the floor, her head pillowed in a woman’s lap, a voice saying, ‘‘No, she’s coming out of it. Sophie, can you hear me?’’

  Sophie nodded. ‘‘What happened?’’

  ‘‘You fainted.’’

  ‘‘F-fainted?’’ I have never fainted in my life. Oh, Lord, what is wrong with me?

  ‘‘Okay, ladies, back to work. Smith, you move into her place. Mrs. Bjorklund, you go sit in the lunchroom until you get your strength back.’’ The supervisor gave the orders, and everyone went back to work.

  Sophie tried to stand, but the world went around again, and she clutched a wooden post.

  Her neighbor left the line, shot the supervisor a look of contempt, and put an arm around Sophie’s waist. ‘‘Here, dearie, let me help you. Don’t worry none, I’ll be right back. Them fish ain’t going anywhere without us.’’ Together they made it to the relative quiet of the eating room, and Sophie sat on a bench.

  ‘‘Put your head between your knees now, and it’ll pass.’’

  Sophie did as instructed and in a few moments did indeed feel far better. She raised her head to find the woman watching her, one hand holding up the other elbow.

  ‘‘You been missing any of your monthlies?’’

  Sophie shrugged. ‘‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. Why?’’

  ‘‘Just look suspicious to me. You been feeling like heaving your guts every morning?’’

  ‘‘How did you know?’’

  ‘‘Hmm.’’ She nodded as she studied Sophie. ‘‘Breasts tender?’’

  ‘‘Only when I roll over.’’

  More nodding. ‘‘I’d be willing to bet you are in the family way.’’

  ‘‘Family way?’’

  ‘‘Pregnant . . . with child . . . carrying.’’

  ‘‘But . . .’’ Sophie could feel her eyes widen and her mouth fall open. Of course. She had all the symptoms, but no one to point them out to her. ‘‘Does every woman feel like I’ve been feeling lately?’’

  ‘‘Not every woman. Didn’t your mother tell you about these things?’’

  ‘‘No. I ran off before she had a chance. I’m sure she’d have told me more otherwise, but you know no one talks of such things to innocent young girls.’’

  ‘‘I know.’’

  ‘‘How long? I mean, will I be sick like this for long?’’

  ‘‘Couple of months possibly. Perhaps not.’’

  ‘‘Lady, get back out here. We’ll have no lollygagging on my shift.’’

  She made a face. ‘‘You come out when you can, or they’ll dock your pay.’’

  Sophie worked the rest of the day, wanting to rub her middle as if to reassure herself. She was carrying Hamre’s baby. A shiver of excitement tickled her backbone. And he wasn’t there to get the news. She plummeted into sadness. Cupping her hands over her lower belly brought back the thrill. What a surprise. No wonder she’d been so tired.

  Hugging the secret to herself, she made her way home and up to her room, where she washed and lay down for a nap. She would not miss the supper bell this time. She had to eat to keep up her strength, both to work and to feed the baby floating inside of her. Tonight she would write again to Hamre, and tomorrow send the letter. If only she could be there to see the delight in his eyes. Hamre was going to be a father.

  But I thought you didn’t want to have children so soon? The thought caught her by surprise. That’s right. How can I go with Hamre on his fishing boat when I have a baby to take care of?

  In spite of her excitement, the next morning she felt worse than ever. She lay in bed with her eyes closed, trying to breathe around the nausea. But no matter, she was heaving into the basin within minutes, only this time when she lay down for a few moments more, it didn’t go away. How could she get up and get to the cannery when the room kept spinning? Instead, she fell back asleep.

  ‘‘Sophie, you’re going to be late for work.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum shook her gently.

  Sophie drew in a deep breath, and this time when she opened her eyes, she felt weak but not sick. ‘‘I know. I couldn’t go earlier.’’

  ‘‘You’re carrying, aren’t you?’’

  ‘‘If you mean I am going to have a baby, I think you are right. One of the women figured it out yesterday when I fainted on the line.’’

  ‘‘Oh, my dear, how wonderful.’’

  Sophie threw back her covers. ‘‘And now I’m going to be late. I just pray he doesn’t fire me.’’

  ‘‘Do you think you should go?’’

  ‘‘I don’t remember my mother ever taking a day off because she didn’t feel well. Of course she would not have told me what the matter was. I don’t know how she disguised such things. She had two more children after Grace and I were born.’’ All the while they were talking, Sophie had gone behind the screen to get dressed, putting on layer after layer to keep warm.

  ‘‘I’ll warm you up some breakfast.’’

  ‘‘Please fix something that I can eat as I walk.’’

  ‘‘I will, and your lunch is waiting for you.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum bustled out, and Sophie sat down to brush her hair and braid it to stay out of her way. When she stepped out the door, she blinked against the shining sun. She’d begun to believe it would never shine again, so at the corner she lifted her face to the warmth as a heavy wagon with four up drove by.

  ‘‘A good day to ye, miss.’’

  ‘‘And to you.’’ She waved to the driver and continued on to the cannery.

  ‘‘You are late.’’ The superintendent turned on her when she donned her apron and made her way to the line.

  ‘‘I know. I was sick.’’

  ‘‘But now you aren’t?’’

  ‘‘I’m here.’’

  ‘‘That’ll cost you the morning’s pay.’’

  ‘‘I understand.’’ She kept her shoulders straight and looked him in the eye.

  ‘‘Get to work, then. But remember, one more mark and you’re out of here. Go on down there and relieve Miz Hanson.’’

  Sophie did as told and stepped back into the sea of scales and slime that flowed by on the moving belt.

  In the lunchroom she sat next to Alice Hanson and opened her lard pail, just what she’d had all those years in school. For a moment she wished she were back there, laughing with Grace and Astrid, groaning about the homework assigned by Pastor Solberg.

  ‘‘How you feeling?’’

  ‘‘Better now. This morning was terrible. I thought to close my eyes for a moment, and Mrs. Soderstrum woke me an hour later.’’

  ‘‘You might try waking earlier and eating stale bread, just a bit, then lay back. My sister said that worked for her.’’

  ‘‘I’ll try that.’’ Sophie took a bite of her beef and cheese sandwich, wishing she had a cup of hot tea to go along with it.

  ‘‘This isn’t a good place for you to work, Sophie. All the cold and standing all day.’’

  ‘‘So where else can I work? I can’t sit in my room and twiddle my thumbs all day.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps someone needs house help.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps. But they pay a lot more here. I’ll stay as long as I can get up to the table.’’

  That evening after work, s
he took her packet of letters to the captain’s wife, who promised to get them on the next supply boat going north.

  ‘‘Good to hear they are having such a good run, wasn’t it?’’ Mrs. Jorgeson said with a smile.

  ‘‘Yes. Perhaps next year Hamre will have a boat of his own.’’

  Mrs. Jorgeson leaned a little closer. ‘‘Don’t tell anyone, but I think the captain has a proposition to offer Hamre. To make him a partner and let him pay off his boat over time. That way they could work together.’’

  ‘‘Does Hamre know this?’’

  ‘‘No, so don’t write it to him. But Captain Jorgeson mentioned again how pleased he is with Hamre’s work, and they’ve been talking about ways to work this out that will make both of them happy.’’

  ‘‘Ah, thank you for telling me.’’

  ‘‘He’s looking for a boat. I’m sure he will mention it to Hamre soon if he hasn’t already.’’ She thought a moment. ‘‘In fact, I know he has, because he said he would soon, and you know how long it took to get the letters down here.’’

  Sophie’s feet didn’t touch the ground as she hurried back to the boardinghouse. Hamre was going to have his dream—two dreams. A family and a boat. The more money she could earn, the sooner they would pay it off.

  ‘‘My, you look like you swallowed a candle.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum handed her a pitcher of warm water to wash with.

  ‘‘I know. I just took my letters over to Mrs. Jorgeson, and she told me that the captain is planning on going into partnership with Hamre and buying another boat. We will be paying it off as soon as we can.’’

  ‘‘Why, that is wonderful. Captain Jorgeson has such a fine reputation. Such good news all around.’’ She held a bite of stew on a spoon. ‘‘Taste this and see if it needs more salt.’’

  Sophie chewed and thought before shaking her head. ‘‘Tastes fine to me.’’

  ‘‘All right. Supper in a few minutes. I’ll be ringing the bell. Oh, and Sophie, I forgot. There’s a letter for you on the table.’’

  ‘‘Thank you.’’

  Sophie picked up her letter and nearly kissed the envelope. Grace had finally written again. She hurried up the stairs and poured the water into her washbowl. Mrs. Soderstrum had even come up and made her bed. No wonder Hamre always kept a room here. They had the nicest landlady around.

  As soon as she washed and slipped into clean clothes, she sat on the bed and ripped open the envelope. One sheet. She swallowed her disappointment and read.

  Dear Sophie,

  I hope you are well. School is fine. Astrid and I, well, all of us had a good time at the fall party.

  Ellie’s baby is so tiny and sweet.

  We all miss you.

  Your sister,

  Grace

  Sophie ignored the tear meandering down her face. Grace had not forgiven her.

  The next morning Sophie ate a little bread as soon as she awoke and lay back down. Within a few minutes she got up and felt almost like she used to. Breakfast tasted good. The sun was lighting the east. Surely this would be a wonderful day. She inhaled and smiled at the crisp air. The frost that rimmed the pine and fir needles and whitened the rooftops lent a sparkle to the day and a skip to her steps. Oh, Hamre, I hope you are having a glorious day and the fish are jumping right into your dory.

  She donned her apron and, after checking the edge on her knife, wielded a couple of swipes on the whetstone before heading for the line.

  ‘‘Miss Merry Sunshine you are,’’ Alice greeted her.

  ‘‘I know. How can I resist? The sun is shining. I was beginning to think it would never return.’’

  ‘‘There is no lovelier place than Seattle when the sun shines.’’

  ‘‘Quiet! There’ll be no more jabbering.’’

  The women rolled their eyes and, as the fish line started up, went to work. As if they couldn’t talk and gut fish at the same time. Perhaps men couldn’t, but they could. If only they could convince the Grouch, as they’d all come to call him in secret.

  The sickness caught Sophie by surprise after the break, and before she could ask to be excused to go to the necessary, her world went black again.

  ‘‘Easy now. You cracked your head on the way down.’’ Alice held a folded apron against Sophie’s forehead.

  ‘‘I didn’t faint again?’’

  ‘‘I’m afraid so. Can you stand so we can go to the other room and put a bandage on it?’’

  ‘‘In a moment.’’

  The superintendent was right behind her. ‘‘Bjorklund, stop by the paymaster on your way out. You’re fired.’’

  ‘‘But I—’’ From the look on his face, she knew he meant it.

  19

  ‘‘HE FIRED ME BECAUSE I fainted again.’’ Sophie’s jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

  ‘‘Oh, my poor dear.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum gathered her close, patting her back and checking the bandage on her forehead. ‘‘You hit your head. That’s where all the blood is from.’’ She turned Sophie’s chin to look for more blood. ‘‘You’re not hurt anywhere else?’’

  ‘‘N-no. I wanted the money to help pay off Hamre’s boat, and the man fired me, just like that.’’

  ‘‘I know. I know.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum set her charge down on a chair and took off her coat and scarf. ‘‘Let me fix a cup of tea, and that will make both of us feel better. Can you get your boots off?’’

  ‘‘Y-yes.’’ Sophie bent over and started to unlace her boots, then groaned. ‘‘Oh, my head.’’

  ‘‘Keep your head down and relax.’’ She laid a hand on Sophie’s back. ‘‘Perhaps this is for the best. That was not a good job for a young woman who is carrying a baby. Not clean enough and smelly. No, I’m sure this is for the best. There will be another job. I know it might not pay as well, but you know that God will always light a way.’’ Talking all the while, she bustled around, setting out cookies and fixing the teapot for when the water boiled.

  Sophie kept her eyes closed as she slowly straightened again. She couldn’t even take her boots off. She ignored the throbbing in her head. At least she could tell the difference between pain and wooziness.

  ‘‘Just leave the boots, and let’s get something hot in you. That will help more than anything.’’

  ‘‘Did you get sick like this?’’

  ‘‘Somewhat. But my sister was puking for months. She swore she’d never have more children.’’

  ‘‘Did she?’’

  ‘‘Nine and was sick with every other one.’’ Mrs. Soderstrum knelt to remove Sophie’s boots.

  ‘‘You’re teasing me.’’

  ‘‘No, I tell the truth on a stack of Bibles. My older sister had nary a trouble. Sometimes we hated her for it. Well, not really. But then two of her little ones died of the diphtheria. Babies have a hard time of it in the winters—all the dampness, you know.’’

  Sophie stared down at the part in Mrs. Soderstrum’s hair. Babies did die. What if her baby died? Mor had buried two children, and Ingeborg’s baby was born too soon to even bury. She laid a hand over her belly. Not Hamre’s baby. And it would be born while Hamre was at home from the Alaskan fishing waters. I wish I could see the look on his face when he reads my letter. I promise you, Hamre, I’ll be different when you come home. I will be a good mother and a good wife. You wait and see. She wrapped both arms around her middle, fighting weariness so intense she let her head fall forward.

  Sunlight woke her the next morning. ‘‘Oh, I’m late.’’ She threw back the covers before remembering the defeat of the day before and then sank back down on the bed. She had no job to go to. After using the necessary she climbed back in bed, sat a moment, and slid back out again. So far so good; no morning sickness. After dressing, she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen.

  ‘‘Well, you are looking so much better, dear. A good sleep is one of the best restoratives. Breakfast is in the warming oven. You sit down and I’ll bring it.’’

  ‘‘No bacon or sausage.�
��’

  ‘‘No. Oatmeal and toast for you. I figured that might be the best. The coffee is hot if you want to start with that.’’

  Sophie shook her head. Just the thought of coffee made her grimace. After breakfast and straightening her room, including hanging up her clothes from the day before, she sat down to write a letter to her family, telling them the good news. At least she hoped they’d think it good news. When her eyes refused to stay open any longer, she climbed back in bed and fell into a deep slumber.

  ‘‘Dear Sophie,’’ Mrs. Soderstrum whispered.

  She woke to her landlady shaking her gently. ‘‘What? Is it dinnertime already?’’ She rubbed her eyes and stretched, catching a yawn on the way.

  ‘‘No. You slept through dinner. But dear, you have a visitor.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I must look a sight. Who is it?’’ She threw back the covers and sat up with her feet over the edge. Already that too-familiar feeling was overriding her pleasure. ‘‘Oh no. I thought this was supposed to be morning sickness!’’ Instead of fighting it, she leaned over the basin and heaved until she had no more to give up.

  Mrs. Soderstrum handed her a damp cloth. ‘‘You lie down again, and I will bring her up here.’’

  ‘‘I . . .’’ Sophie swallowed and closed her eyes. Surely this too would pass. She heard the two women talking as they mounted the stairs. How rude of her to not go downstairs to meet her visitor, but the lassitude made even sitting up difficult. At least she had combed her hair that morning.

  ‘‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Bjorklund, but—’’ ‘‘No, I am sorry not to come down to greet you. My first visitor and here I am lying in bed.’’ She smiled at Mrs. Jorgeson, the captain’s wife, but the smile died at the sight of reddened eyes and nose. Fear wrapped icy fingers around her throat. ‘‘Something is wrong. Tell me.’’