Until We Reach Home

by Lynn Austin

  "I promised Mrs. Anderson that I would take care of him," Elfin said. "I felt terrible for breaking my promise."

  "Take him with you, if you want him. But come in, come in," she said, beckoning them inside.

  "I will take him as soon as we're settled," Elfin said. "But right now we don't have a job or a place to live. Were you able to find another job?"

  "Oh, I got another offer right away. They can't pay me as much as Mrs. Anderson did, you see, and it's farther away from home, but it's the best I can expect at my age. I start working tomorrow, in fact."

  Mrs. Olafson's tidy little apartment was as small as the main room of their cottage in Sweden had been and very hot inside, even with all of the windows open. The copper kettle on the cast-iron stove and the embroidered linens and pillow cushions on the white-painted furniture all reminded Elin of Sweden. She longed to find a home for her sisters, even if it was as simple as Mrs. Olafson's humble room.

  The little woman gestured for them to sit at her table and brought out a pot of coffee and a plate of lefse, dusted with cinnamon and sugar. She talked while she worked. "I heard about your troubles with the missing jewelry, you see. I told my husband that I didn't believe you stole it from her. You girls would never do a thing like that."

  "We didn't. But Bettina Anderson has a lot of influence in the community, and now no one else will hire us, even though the truth came out about the jewelry."

  "Poor things. I'll keep my ears open for something-although it might be hard to place all three of you together, you see, working for the same family."

  "It doesn't have to be together," Sofia said.

  "And I'll take care of this poor cat in the meantime."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Olafson. And God bless you."

  They dragged their feet on the walk back to the boardinghouse. "I guess we'll have to look for work in a factory," Elin said. "We have to do something to finish paying for our tickets."

  "Which factory? Where?" Kirsten asked, gesturing helplessly. "How do we go about it?"

  "And where would we live?" Sofia added.

  These were questions Elin couldn't answer. It was bad enough that she was in this predicament herself, but the fact that she was also responsible for her sisters-and for bringing them to America in the first placemade matters worse. She couldn't leave them destitute and homeless.

  "I'll figure something out," she murmured.

  All three of them worked in the boardinghouse that afternoon, trying to earn their room and board, at least. Once again, they slept on the floor in their cousins' cramped bedroom at night. The room was above the kitchen and as hot as a steam bath.

  Another letter from Gunnar Pedersen arrived in the mail, but Elfin waited to read it until her work was finished, wanting to savor his words and the pictures he always painted of life on his farm. He made it sound so nice-with plenty of hard work, to be sure-but at least he didn't live in this terrible city, where nobody wanted her and her sisters. Once again, Gunnar's letter made her homesick for their farm in Sweden.

  Maybe moving to Wisconsin really was the best answer for them. There didn't seem to be any other solution. On the journey to America, Sofia had said she wanted to live on a farm again. Kirsten said she missed the trees and the stillness of the forest. Elfin had wanted only to be safe from Uncle Sven. Maybe if she agreed to marry one of the bachelors, it would be the best way to give her sisters a home.

  Elfin took out a sheet of stationery and began to write:

  Dear Gunnar,

  So much has happened since I wrote my last letter to you. I'm sorry to say that our employer, Mrs. Anderson, has passed away. The days since her passing have been very sad ones for me, because I had grown very fond of her. But my sorrow is increased because once again, my sisters and I are without work and without a home. We spent much of today trying to find work in order to finish paying you and your friends the remainder of our debt. Unfortunately, we had no luck.

  Tonight, I am very disillusioned with life in America. We can't seem to find the new start we were looking for when we decided to leave Sweden. And so, if it isn't too late, I would like to do what I should have done last May. I would like to accept your kind offer and come up to live in your settlement in Wisconsin. I will agree to marry whichever one of you will have me.

  But please explain to your friends that I am the only one of us who is accepting your offer. It's my hope that you will consider my debt to be canceled if I do get married, and that you will apply the money we have already paid to my two sisters' fares. I'll find a way to finish paying for their tickets so that they won't be obligated to marry anyone. What my sisters need most of all right now is a home. I promised them when we left Sweden that they would have a home again someday, and you make life up in Wisconsin sound so nice. I hope that whoever agrees to marry me will make my sisters welcome in our home for as long as they need one. I can't promise that they will stay in your settlement and marry one of you, but I will stay. I promise to marry whichever one of you will have me. And I'll stay.

  I'm very sorry for not accepting your offer right away, but my sisters were weary after the long journey to Chicago and didn't want to travel any further. I didn't want to force them to go. I hope you will write to me as soon as you can and let me know if I am still welcome, and if the offer of marriage still stands. If so, I will purchase our train tickets from our final week's pay at the mansion, and my sisters and I will come right away.

  Yours truly,

  Elm Carlson

  Elfin reread the letter, then folded the paper in half and slipped it into an envelope. When she looked up and saw Sofia reading her Bible, Elfin recalled a verse in which Jesus said, I go to prepare a place for you. That's what she was doing: preparing a place for them, a home where she could take care of them. She doubted if they would believe this was the best answer for all three of them, but Elfin knew from reading Gunnar's letters that it was. In time, Kirsten and Sofia would find husbands and settle down happily in homes of their own.

  She licked the envelope shut and printed Gunnar Pedersen's address on the front.

  She hoped sleep would come easier for her that night, having made this decision. It didn't.

  "I'm going out to mail a letter," she said the next day after helping Aunt Hilma with the breakfast rush. But before dropping the letter in the corner mailbox, Elfin first went to the Western Union office, where she had been wiring the money to Wisconsin. The clerk knew her by now, and he spoke Swedish.

  "If I wanted to take a train to this place in Wisconsin someday, could you advise me how I would do that? I don't know my way around Chicago very well, and I don't speak English."

  "You would have to go to Union Station, downtown. They'll let you purchase a ticket in advance, and you can use it whenever you're ready to go."

  Elfin had no trouble following the clerk's directions to the train station, and since it was too far to walk, she rode on a streetcar for the very first time. She stood in line at the ticket window, then showed the agent Gunnar's address in Wisconsin when it was her turn.

  "How much would it cost to travel to here?" she asked in Swedish, pointing to the address and holding out a handful of change.

  The ticket agent jabbered in English. Elfin shrugged and shook her head, wishing she had been as wise as Sofia and had studied English. He looked up something in a fat book, then jabbered again.

  "I'm sorry. I don't understand. Could you write down the amount?" She mimicked holding a pen and writing. He finally seemed to understand and tore off a scrap of paper. He wrote $1.50 on it.

  Elfin quickly added it up in her head. Three fares would come to $4.50-her entire pay for the last week she had worked at the mansion, plus another fifty cents from her dwindling spending money. The ticket agent asked Elfin something else-probably if she wanted to buy the ticket. She nodded and held up three fingers.

  She would convince her sisters to go with her. She would make them understand that this was what they needed to do. Elfin should
have realized when they arrived in Chicago that this was the best choice and saved everyone a great deal of trouble. If she hadn't been so suspicious of everyone, as Mrs. Anderson said, perhaps she would have.

  The thought of marrying a stranger made Elfin shiver. But she would make this sacrifice for her sisters. At least they would have a place to live for now, until they were old enough to decide what to do next. They might choose to leave Wisconsin someday, but Elfin would stay. She would keep her promise and marry whomever would have her.

  KIRSTEN WORKED IN her aunt's boardinghouse all day, keeping one eye on the clock as the supper hour approached. When the time came for the boarders to return home, she removed her apron and hung it on a hook. "I'll be right back," she told Elin.

  She slipped out of the back door as if visiting the privy but headed down to the street corner instead. Kirsten knew where the streetcar stopped near the boardinghouse, but she didn't know what time Knute Lindquist arrived home on it in the afternoon. The last time she had seen him was at the mansion after Mrs. Anderson's funeral, but she hadn't dared to speak with him. She hated her helplessness, hated taking advantage of his good nature by asking him for help, but he was the only friend she had in Chicago, other than her sisters. If God was punishing them by sending all this bad luck, Kirsten suspected that it was because of her, not Elin and Sofia. She loved her sisters. She needed to find a way to help them.

  She waited for Mr. Lindquist for what seemed like a very long time, watching people get on and off the streetcars. They had places to go, work to do. They knew their way around Chicago and knew how to speak English. She envied their freedom.

  Finally, just as Kirsten was ready to give up, Mr. Lindquist stepped off one of the cars. His face wore the dead expression she'd seen on the other passengers' faces, staring down at the ground, not really noticing his surroundings. He would have walked right past Kirsten if she hadn't called his name.

  "Mr. Lindquist!"

  "Miss Carlson? What are you doing here?"

  "I've been waiting for you. I hope you don't mind, but I need to talk to you."

  "Do you want to walk to the park?"

  "I would hate for you to miss dinner at the boardinghouse. I know my aunt never saves food for anyone."

  "It doesn't matter. Let's walk." His stride was longer than hers, and she had to hurry to keep up with him.

  "Did you hear what happened? How we were accused of stealing?" she asked as they walked.

  "Of course. The rumors were all over the newspaper office. I didn't want to believe they were true."

  "They weren't true! Did you also hear that they found out we were innocent?"

  "Yes, I heard."

  "Well, we've been looking for another job, and we can't find one. No one wants to hire us, even though they know we aren't thieves. Pastor Johnson said Bettina Anderson hates us. I don't know what else to do, so I wanted to ask if ... if you would hire me."

  "Hire you? What for?"

  "You said you wanted to send for your son, and I thought that if you did, I could take care of him for you. I could also keep house and cook for you, and-"

  "I'm certain you could find a better job than that. I couldn't pay you very much. Surely there are better jobs."

  "I don't need much money. Just enough to afford a room where my sisters and I can live."

  "Would you like me to inquire about a job for you with another Swedish family?"

  Kirsten didn't reply. She saw an empty park bench and walked over to it and sank down, determined not to cry. Even if Mr. Lindquist did find her another job, she would be fired when her pregnancy began to show. Her sisters would likely be fired, as well. She wished he hadn't saved her life.

  Mr. Lindquist sat down beside her a moment later. "What's wrong, Kirsten?"

  She had to tell him the truth. She had no other choice.

  "I can't work for anyone else because ... because when the truth comes out ..."

  "What truth?"

  "I'm going to have a baby." She glanced over at him and wasn't surprised to see the shock on his face. She gave him a minute to absorb it.

  "Now you know why I tried to kill myself. When people find out, my sisters will be disgraced, too. I don't know what else I can do except work for someone like you, someone who knows the truth. I've been trying day and night to figure out a solution, and I can't think of one."

  "Where is the baby's father?"

  "In Sweden. He doesn't even know about it. Remember how I told you that Tor's father is destroying all of my letters? I can't get in touch with Tor to tell him."

  Mr. Lindquist didn't reply. He was silent for such a long time that Kirsten could no longer stand it.

  "I do know right from wrong, Mr. Lindquist. I'm not an immoral person, just a very foolish and lonely one who made a terrible mistake. After my parents both died, I needed comfort so badly-and Tor said that he loved me. He promised to marry me."

  Mr. Lindquist still said nothing. Kirsten had never met anyone who could sit so still, barely breathing, as if carved from stone.

  "You must remember how desolate it felt when you were grieving," she continued, "how you longed to talk to someone who understood you, someone who would hold you and let you weep."

  When Knute still didn't reply, Kirsten said, "I've shocked you. I'll understand if you don't want anything more to do with me." She started to rise.

  "Wait." He laid his hand on her arm to stop her, just as he had the last time. Once again, the weight of his touch was a painful reminder that Tor would never hold her again. Perhaps no man would.

  "I do remember how it feels," he finally said, "and if anything shocks me, it's the fact that this young man would take advantage of your grief in such a despicable way. How old are you?"

  "My birthday is in a few days. I'll be nineteen."

  "Isn't there a family member or a pastor over in Sweden who could help you? I would be willing to help you compose a letter and explain your situation. This young man needs to come forward and take responsibility."

  Kirsten swallowed, knowing that she would have to reveal even more of her shame. "There is no one in Sweden who can help me. Tor's father is an important man in the village, and he doesn't believe that my baby is his son's. No one in town will believe me, even the pastor, because my father's death was a suicide. My sisters and I left Sweden in disgrace."

  "I see."

  "I never would have bothered you, Mr. Lindquist, except that I'm desperate. I thought maybe you would hire me to take care of your son and cook for you. All I need is enough money to rent a room where my sisters and I can stay. They're trying to find work, too, and we don't know where else to go or what to do."

  "When will your child be born?"

  "Around the New Year, I think."

  "Do your sisters know?"

  Kirsten stared down at her feet. "I'm too ashamed to tell them. But the baby is starting to grow, and ..." Her voice trembled at the thought of how disgraced she would be, walking around in public in that condition. "If only I had a place to hide," she finished in a whisper.

  "I understand."

  Again, Kirsten noticed his unnerving stillness. Not a muscle twitched, his chest barely rose with each breath. Finally he spoke again. "I need to give the problem some serious thought," he said at last. "Perhaps I can ask discreetly if someone at work knows of a position for you and your sisters. Maybe there is even a family who is willing to adopt your child."

  "Thank you," she said softly. But Kirsten knew that she had exposed her shame for nothing. Mr. Lindquist wouldn't be able to help her, either. She sighed. "We may as well go back."

  He stood and helped her rise, then set off at his brisk pace. He chose the shortest route back to the boardinghouse. Once again, Kirsten had to hurry to keep up with him.

  "You don't want someone like me taking care of your son, do you?" she asked.

  "That's not true. I'm certain you would be very good with Torkel. But I am a widower. It wouldn't be proper for a young unmarri
ed woman to work for me. I'm sorry."

  "I understand." But she didn't. She was trying so hard not to cry. That's all she seemed to do around him. He would surely view her as a hysterical woman, playacting for his sympathy. Kirsten hated pity most of all.

  "I am going to find a way to help you, Kirsten. Just let me think about it some more. I'll walk here to meet with you again after we've eaten dinner."

  She didn't have much of an appetite that evening. Her sisters were solemn throughout the meal, too. Kirsten recognized their fear and desperation-they mirrored her own. Aunt Hilma would kick them out if they didn't find work soon.

  "I'm going for a walk," Kirsten said after the dinner dishes were washed and dried.

  "Do you want me to come with you?" Sofia asked.

  "No thanks." Kirsten hurried away before anyone could stop her.

  The summer evenings remained light until quite late at night, making the walk pleasant, even though Kirsten dreaded the outcome. Knute Lindquist wouldn't find a solution. There simply wasn't one. She slowed her steps, closing her eyes to hold back her tears, walking blindly as she offered up a prayer.

  Lord, I'm so sorry for what I did with Tor. Please forgive me. Please help me figure out what to do.

  She saw Mr. Lindquist before he saw her, standing by the bench with his hands in his pockets and his back turned. The residual sunlight shone on his fair hair, turning it to gold. She was afraid to hope that he had thought of an answer for her dilemma, fearing instead that he would want nothing more to do with her. She crossed the grass to stand beside him, afraid to look at him, afraid to speak.

  "We will be married," he said simply. "That is, if you are willing."

  Kirsten stared up at him. This was not at all what she had expected to hear. "Married?" she breathed. It was inconceivable that he would even consider it.

  "I could give your child a father and you could give mine a mother."

  "But I-I never expected ... Why would you do that?"

  "Helping someone in need might be the only happiness I dare hope for after everything that has happened."

  Kirsten was speechless. She didn't know this man. How could she marry him? It occurred to her that it would be no more unusual than marrying one of the strangers in Wisconsin, and at least she wouldn't be deceiving Mr. Lindquist into thinking the child was his. She would be able to help her sisters, and they would never need to know the truth about her baby.