Until We Reach Home

by Lynn Austin

  "Can you find out where my sisters are?" she begged. "Sofia is too young to be all alone. She has never been separated from me before. She must be terrified."

  Each time, the nurses spoke gibberish in reply-soothing gibberish, but incomprehensible just the same.

  She had no idea how many days had passed, but she thought it must be many. Several times she tried to sit up and look around at the other beds to see if her sisters were there, too. When she didn't see them, she comforted herself with the knowledge that it must mean they weren't sick. They hadn't caught whatever disease she had. But what had become of them?

  Please, God, let them be all right. Punish me, not them.

  At last the day finally came when the fever broke for good and Elin could think clearly again. She pulled herself up in bed and was able to eat a little food. "I need to find my sisters," Elin told the nurse. "I need to know what's going on, and where they are, and if they have been ill, too."

  The nurse smiled and held up her hand, asking her to wait. An hour later, an interpreter from the Swedish Immigrant Aid Society came to talk with Elin.

  "Your sisters are both fine," the woman told her. "They are waiting for you here on Ellis Island. The officials in the detention center provide them with three meals a day and a place to sleep at night."

  "Is it safe there?"

  "Yes, of course it is. One of your sisters wrote you a note a few days ago, but you haven't been well enough to read it. It's here by your bed if you would like to see it."

  "Oh yes! Please!" Elin recognized Sofia's writing as soon as she saw it. She unfolded the paper.

  Dear Elfin,

  I have been very worried about you and I'm praying every day that you will get well. I am fine, not sick at all, but I miss you. The days are very long and always the same as I wait and wait. I know they must be long for you, too. But the food is good and the beds are clean, and the room where I'm sleeping has sinks where I can wash, so everything is fine.

  I'm praying that you will get better so we can continue our journey. We are almost there now. I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I acted during our trip. And I want you to know that if you just hurry up and get well, I promise not to be sulky or to mope around anymore. We are sisters. We're a family. And we are going to start a brand-new life together in America.

  Every day I see thousands of people coming in and out of Ellis Island and they all want to live in America so badly that they are willing to do anything to stay. Even though I didn't want to come at first, I want you to know that I'm glad you found a way for all three of us to move here. And I promise not to give you a hard time about being homesick anymore.

  Please get well soon and don't worry about me. I'm fine.

  Love,

  Sofia

  Elfin wept with relief, then read the letter a second time. Sofia was all right. She was safe. She didn't even sound frightened to death, as Elfin had expected her to be. All Elfin had to do was get better so she could rejoin her. Best of all, Sofia had finally accepted the fact that America would be their home from now on.

  It was only after Elfin read the letter for a third time that she realized that Sofia had never mentioned Kirsten. And why hadn't Kirsten written a letter, too? Elfin felt a ripple of fear until she remembered what the interpreter had said: "Your sisters are both fine. They are waiting for you on Ellis Island." She would have to trust that all was well with Kirsten until the doctors allowed her to join them.

  Elfin soon grew tired of living in this bleak white room. It was so large and impersonal that she felt swallowed up in a blizzard of white. She longed to see trees again and hear the birds singing and feel the breeze on her face. Her bed was too far away from a window to get even a glimpse of what was outside. But she noticed that whenever one of the nurses walked between the rows of beds to tend to her patients, the room seemed transformed. The nurses reminded her of Mama. Elin's mother had had the same effect on her patients, transforming any sickroom from glum to cheerful simply by entering it. She had entertained Elfin and her sisters for hours whenever they were sick.

  Mama also had worked as a midwife, traveling to neighboring women's homes to help them through their labor and caring for the new mothers and their babies afterward. For two years before she died, Mama had taken Elfin with her. The work had fascinated Elfin, and she had begged to stay home from school when she knew that a baby was on the way.

  "God has given you the gift of healing, too," Mama had told her. "Maybe you would like to be a midwife someday?"

  Elfin had believed so. She'd never experienced a joy like that of delivering a new life into this world. But then Mama had become sick, and no amount of medicine or loving care had been able to save her. Afterward, Elfin had sought refuge in the wrong place, with the wrong person-Uncle Sven. Now the idea of having "the gift of healing" seemed ridiculous.

  But Elfin wanted the nurses in this hospital to know how much she appreciated their loving care. The next time the woman from the Swedish Immigrant Aid Society came, Elfin asked her to thank all of the nurses for her.

  "They are saying that no thanks is necessary," Mrs. Bjork told her after she'd interpreted Elin's words. "They are insisting that they enjoy their work and are simply doing their job."

  "How does someone get a job like theirs here in America?"

  "Many hospitals in big cities like New York have nursing schools where women can be specially trained."

  "Nursing schools? Are there some in Chicago, too?"

  "It's a very large city, so I'm sure there must be. Do you think you would like to be a nurse, Miss Carlson?"

  "Me? It's probably impossible. . . ." Elin didn't dare to dream of something so far out of her reach. She was a poor village girl with no money and no family. She couldn't even speak English.

  "How do the nurses keep from getting sick?" Elin asked her. "When we were on the boat, I took care of a sick woman and her children. That's probably how I caught typhus."

  "I'm told that typhus is spread through lice that people can carry in their clothing if they don't wash very often. I suppose nurses learn in school how to be careful and keep everything clean."

  Again, Elin thought of her mother. She had known so much about caring for people and bringing babies into the world. She had started to pass that knowledge along to Elin before she became sick. Years of wisdom and experience had been lost when Mama died.

  "I need to be going," Mrs. Bjork said, "but I'll be back when you're well enough to be released. I hope you and your sisters can continue on your journey then."

  "Thank you. We will be going on to Chicago, and- Oh no! I just remembered! My uncle was expecting us to arrive days and days ago. He must be wondering what happened to us."

  "Don't worry, I helped your sister send a telegram to let him know you would be delayed. We will send another one to let him know your new arrival time."

  "How can I ever thank you?"

  "It isn't necessary. I was once a frightened immigrant just like you and some very kind people helped me. You can thank me by helping someone else in need someday."

  "Yes ... I would like to do that." But Elin wondered if the time would ever come when she wasn't helpless and dependent on others, a time when she could help someone else.

  ~2Offer )nefeen

  "MY CLOTHES! OH, thank goodness." Kirsten couldn't recall ever being happier to see her own homemade skirt and shirtwaist. It felt wonderful to stand up and put them on instead of lying in bed all day wearing a thin hospital gown. She assumed, as soon as the nurse handed back her clothing, that she was being discharged from the hospital. The translator, Mrs. Bjork, confirmed it when she arrived.

  "The doctors gave you a clean bill of health on your medical card," she said, "but the card also states that you are pregnant. It will be up to the immigration officials on Ellis Island to decide whether or not you will be allowed into the country. You can tell me whatever you would like me to say about the baby's father, and it may have some bearing on their
decision. But if they declare that you are `likely to become a public charge,' you will be sent home at the steamship company's expense."

  "I-I don't know-"

  Mrs. Bjork held up her hand. "You still have time to think about your reply while you wait for your other sister to get well."

  "Are my sisters going to find out about the baby?"

  "That's entirely up to you. I will be translating for you, so they won't know what I'm telling the officials in English-or what they are saying to you. I won't mention the baby in front of your sisters unless you want me to."

  "I don't want you to-for now. But if I'm sent home, will my sisters have to go with me?"

  "That's up to them. Their medical clearance is determined separately from yours. Now, if you're ready, I'll walk back to the immigration building with you."

  Outside, the May afternoon was sunny and cool, the kind of spring day that Kirsten had loved back home. She remembered exploring the woods with her brother, reveling in the new life budding all around her. Now she was on a tiny barren island in a strange foreign land.

  "I'm needed in the Registry Room this afternoon to do some translating," Mrs. Bjork told her. "I'll show you where you can find me if you have any more questions. And your sister can show you where to sleep and take your meals."

  The thought of food made Kirsten feel nauseated again. She knew it was common among pregnant women to feel sick, and she wondered how she would ever bear another long ocean journey back to Sweden, stuck in steerage with all of its foul smells. And what would she eat on the trip if she did feel hungry? The food they had packed in Sweden must be long gone.

  As soon as she neared the main building, Kirsten saw Sofia waiting for her behind a fence, waving her arms above her head and hopping up and down. They both had tears in their eyes as they hugged each other.

  "Oh, it's so good to see you!" Sofia said. "How are you feeling? Are you all better now? They said you didn't have typhus, but did they ever find out what was wrong with you? It feels like you've been gone for a hundred years!"

  Kirsten laughed. "That's the most I've heard you say since we left Sweden. But believe me, I know how good it feels to have someone to talk to. I'm fine now-the picture of health." She deliberately avoided Sofia's question about what had been wrong with her, hoping she wouldn't notice, hoping a lie wouldn't be necessary.

  "Come on. I'll show you where I've been staying." Sofia picked up their three satchels and handed one to Kirsten. "You can help me carry these bags from now on. I'm getting tired of dragging them around with me everywhere I go, but I knew Elin wouldn't want me to leave them unattended."

  Kirsten smiled at her sister. She had expected timid little Sofia to be nervous and panicky after being stranded in a foreign country with all these strangers for days and days. But Sofia seemed amazingly happy and more content than she had been since leaving home.

  "Lead the way," Kirsten told her.

  Sofia gave Kirsten a tour of the outdoor areas, the dining hall, and finally the women's dormitory, talking nearly nonstop. "Why do they have so many rules and guards everywhere?" Kirsten asked her. "I feel like we're being held prisoner. This is an island. We couldn't escape even if we wanted to."

  "I don't know. Maybe it's for our own safety."

  Kirsten dropped her bag onto one of the empty bunks. "Phew, they've kept me in bed too long. I'm not used to all this exercise, climbing up three flights of stairs. Do you mind if we rest here for awhile?"

  "All right. But it's nicer outside. . . ." Sofia slid to the floor, leaning against the wall. Kirsten looked around and realized that the floor was the only place to sit down. It was impossible to sit comfortably on the beds with the ones above them hanging so low. She joined Sofia on the floor, sitting cross-legged.

  "Listen, Sofia. I want to ask you something.... Do you still want to go home to Sweden?"

  "What difference does it make what I want? We're already here, aren't we?"

  "Well, suppose something happened and one of us changed our mind. Suppose Elfin or I decided to go home."

  "Elfin doesn't ever want to go back."

  "Well, suppose I wanted to go back. Would you want to stay here or come with me?"

  "I don't want to split up. We've come this far together, and I think we should stay together. If one of us decides to stay or go, we should all do the same thing."

  Kirsten quickly lost her patience. "Suppose I got sent back. Suppose they didn't allow me to immigrate, for some reason, but they accepted you and Elfin. Would you want to stay with her or come home with me?"

  "Why are you asking such stupid questions? Did the doctors find something wrong with you?"

  "Nothing's wrong with me. It's just that I know you didn't want to come to America in the first place, and you've been complaining and moping the entire trip. I just wondered if-"

  "I promise not to mope and complain anymore, but we need to stay together."

  "Fine. We'll stay together," Kirsten said with a sigh. "Listen, are we allowed to lie down and take a nap? I didn't sleep very well in the hospital. Would you mind?" She crawled onto a lower bunk without waiting for Sofia's reply.

  "I don't mind. But I'd like to go outside while you're napping. It's a beautiful day. And if you're going to stay here, can you watch our bags?"

  Once again, it amazed Kirsten that timid Sofia would want to wander around alone on an island full of strangers. She wondered what had caused this sudden change in her. But before she could ask, Sofia slipped out the door.

  Kirsten did manage to nap for a little while, but she dreamed of Tor and woke up crying. She wished she could predict what his reaction would be when she arrived home with the news of their baby. She wished he loved her as much as she loved him.

  She rolled off the bunk, pushing Tor from her thoughts. She felt surprisingly hungry for once. Maybe she could find something to eat in Elin's bag. She knelt on the floor to rummage through it-and pulled out Elin's diary instead.

  Elfin had carried the tattered old journal everywhere, even before they'd left Sweden. The plain unlined notebook looked like something a child might take to school. Kirsten couldn't remember how long ago Elfin had first started writing in it, but she thought it was after Papa died.

  She ruffled the edges of the swollen pages with her thumb and saw coffee rings and water stains and places where Elin had erased so fanatically that the paper had torn. She always used a pencil, yet her tiny, precise letters looked neat and prim-like Elin herself. Her handwriting reminded Kirsten of exquisite embroidery-gray thread on white linen. Words filled every page from top to bottom, with barely a pencil's width of space for margins.

  Elfin wrote endlessly in this book, often ignoring everyone as she scribbled away.

  Sometimes, after they argued, saying hurtful things and throwing harsh words at each other like stones, Kirsten would sit across their attic bedroom from Elfin with her back turned, wondering what terrible things Elfin was saying about her in these pages. If Kirsten turned her head, Elfin would pause and glance up at her with a frown, then bend over her page again, scribbling faster.

  Even on their way to America, Kirsten remembered lying in bed in the boardinghouse trying to sleep while Elfin stayed awake, writing by candlelight, her pencil scratching across the page. Aboard the ship, Kirsten had begged Elfin to come outside on the deck with her for fresh air, but she had waved her hand in that impatient way of hers and remained below, writing.

  Now Kirsten held Elin's notebook in her hands. Elfin wasn't here to stop her from reading it, yet even so, it felt wrong to trespass among her private thoughts. She had always been so careful to keep this diary out of everyone's reach. But maybe Kirsten would understand Elfin better if she read it. Maybe she could finally figure out what made her do the things she did, and how she made the choices she had, and why she was so rigid and unbending at times. Kirsten didn't understand her sister; that much was certain. They had endured so much together, and she was closer to Elfin than to anyone else on e
arth, yet she felt as though she didn't know her at all.

  She stared at the notebook, unsure why she hesitated. She recalled one winter night back home when they'd sat by the fireplace and Elfin had been writing in her stupid diary, as usual. Kirsten got up to poke the smoldering logs, and as sparks leaped up the chimney like wood sprites, Elfin looked up at her and said, "Kirsten! Promise me you'll throw this notebook into the fire if anything happens to me-without reading it! Promise?"

  Kirsten had smiled at the drama and urgency in her voice and asked, "Why? What are you writing in there that's so important?"

  "Never mind. You owe me, Kirsten.... Now, promise!"

  "Ja, sure. I promise." But Kirsten had winked at Sofia and crossed her fingers behind her back, where Elfin couldn't see them.

  Kirsten smoothed her hand over the tattered cover. She knew it was wrong to read Elin's diary ... but maybe it would help Kirsten understand why Elin had decided to come to America in the first place. And maybe it would help her decide whether or not to tell Elin the truth about the baby and why she needed to return to Sweden.

  She opened to the first page.

  An hour later, Kirsten slowly closed the diary without finishing it. Her hands trembled as she placed it back inside Elin's bag. The truth about their uncle Sven astounded her. She didn't want to believe it, didn't want to imagine Elfin suffering in silence for so long. How could Uncle Sven do such a terrible thing, ensnaring her and deceiving her that way?

  But hadn't Tor Magnusson done a similar thing, saying he loved Kirsten and that he wanted to marry her, just to get his own way?

  Kirsten was sorry she had read the diary, not only because she had violated Elin's privacy but because the weight of Elin's secret felt much too heavy on her shoulders. No wonder Elfin looked so old and tired and crippled. No wonder she worried so much. No wonder she was so fearful. If Uncle Sven, a trusted family member, could do such evil things, then Elfin had a good reason to distrust strangers.

  But what brought tears to Kirsten's eyes was the knowledge that Elin had loved her and Sofia so much that she had found a way to save them, too, instead of merely running away from Uncle Sven and deserting them the way Nils had. She wished she could thank Elin and explain how grateful she was, but she could never confess that she had discovered the truth. If Elin knew her secret had been uncovered, it would destroy her. The shame and guilt that Elfin felt were evident on every page of the diary.