I sounded so cavalier. So independent. So very—Amma.
“This will not create difficulties between you and him?”
“Why should it?” I said, slapping the dust from my hands. I surveyed the floor. It was in dire need of sweeping. “Now show me what I need to do.”
Finn completed his third year at the University, returning home the last weekend in May. This time he came by train (the train now ran all the way from Winnipeg) and J.K. picked him up at the station in Lundi. I found an excuse to take Amma outside that afternoon—I think Mother knew why—and we waved wildly when the democrat passed. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas so I was stunned by how much older he looked and how handsome in his new suit.
I ran upstairs to change into my best dress and comb my hair. He arrived at our door an hour later, saying he couldn’t stay long because Gudrun was preparing a special meal. We hugged and kissed in privacy around the corner of the house then went to sit under Amma’s tree.
We’d written letters weekly so were already privy to the workings of each other’s lives. I asked him what it was like riding on the train and he raved about it, saying how fast it was compared to travelling by horse.
“Are things improving at the store?” he asked, taking my hand.
By ‘things’ he meant Bjorn. I’d confided in my last two letters how difficult it was, having to take charge of a business I barely understood since Bjorn seemed to have lost all interest.
“I hope I didn’t sound too harsh,” I said, examining his elegant fingers and neatly trimmed nails. “Everything is a mess right now. Two workers quit last week so they are behind.”
“Yes, but he shouldn’t be taking out his frustrations on you.”
“He’s not,” I said. “He blames himself and is not thinking clearly.”
Finn thought for a moment. “I don’t understand why, by what you said he did everything he could. By God, jumping into that freezing water was a feat in itself.”
“I know,” I said, resisting the temptation to say more, to disclose my own guilt.
“If working there makes you unhappy—”
“It doesn’t,” I said, forcing away unpleasant thoughts. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Finn smiled. “Fair enough,” he said. He took my other hand in his, leaning in close. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our future. And Thora’s. It is honorable what the two of you are doing, but this cannot go on indefinitely. Decisions need to be made.”
“We still have a year.”
“Yes, you do. Plenty of time to prepare your family and Bjorn for the inevitable,” he said, soft gray eyes reading my expression. “Unless you have changed your mind?”
What I didn’t have the courage to tell him is that I was undecided. Every time he’d written about Thora and I enrolling in the nursing program, I’d been vague in my reply.
“I’m not sure how they would manage without us,” I said.
“What about Freyja?” he said. “She could take care of your Amma or work in the store.”
“Freyja? She doesn’t want that,” I said.
He laughed. “Do you hear yourself? You are more concerned about them than yourself. What do you want?”
I pulled my hands away and stood up. “I want all of this to stop,” I said. “The fear, the nightmares, the uncertainty. You have no idea how I feel, so stop acting as if you do.”
I turned and ran towards the barn.
“Asta, wait.”
He caught up to me by the road, grabbing my arm, spinning me around to face him. “What is wrong with you?”
In a mixture of anger and relief I told him, blurting out what Einar had done to Runa and what happened after I’d told Bjorn. I was too ashamed to disclose what Einar did to me.
“They murdered him?” he said, eyes wide.
“No,” I said, hushing my voice. “Bjorn took him to Ghost Island.”
“Well that’s what it sounds like to me.”
Frustrated, I shook my head. “They didn’t actually kill him.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“He probably tried to walk across the lake after that,” I said, hoping beyond reason that it was true. Not that it made much difference, but imagining that part of Einar’s fate lay in his own actions made it easier to bear.
Finn looked skeptical. I could see he was calculating, and when he was done he shook his head. He pulled out his pocket watch.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
He took my hand, tugging me in the direction of the yard. When we were at the door, he pulled me into a strong embrace.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t.”
Immediately I regretted telling Finn the secret, so the next day I could barely face Bjorn. And that evening, when Finn arrived to pick me up from the store, we discussed Einar the whole way home.
“I cannot imagine how it would feel to kill someone,” he said softly.
It was remarkable how the secret that had driven a wedge between Bjorn and me now brought Finn and me closer together. We had a wonderful summer. I worked most days at the store while he helped his father on the farm. We went to picnics, community dances, played chess most evenings, and even snuck away together on Sunday afternoons, sailing out to Gull Reef which became our secret spot. Before we knew it August had arrived. Once again I waved good-bye to him from the dock. I had a year to decide.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Who can say what sorrow seemingly carefree folk bear to their life’s end.
—Völsunga Saga
I awaken to see Solrun flipping through my scrapbook that sits heavily on her lap.
“Amazing,” she says. “I forgot what you collected over the years.”
A half a lifetime of memories all saved in a box then condensed, trimmed and glued in meticulous, chronological order. The second half of my life was far less compelling, but I added everything worth remembering.
“You saved all our cut-outs,” she says, lifting the book so I can see. Brittle and faded, these were the figurines we played house with, pictures of people and furniture all clipped from the Eaton’s catalogue.
I want to ask if she remembers all the hours we spent at the kitchen table propping up our two-dimensional family, imagining their spectacular three-dimensional lives. I never told her that the handsome cut-out man was Bjorn. I’d not clipped the paper between his head and shoulders so that I could pencil in his long hair. The woman holding a baby was me. Sometimes, when Solrun and Lars weren’t looking, those cut-outs kissed.
She continues thumbing the pages. She seems touched by it all when she looks up.
“You still have Finn’s letters,” she says, “after all these years.”
She turns the pages, counts the letters, then flips back.
“So long ago. Would you like me to read them to you?”
Yes, I nod. I would like that very much.
She waves Lars in when he appears in the doorway.
“We are going through the scrapbook,” she says, opening the envelope glued to the page, pulling out two yellowed sheets.
“Do you remember when we went to Winnipeg?”
“How could I forget,” he says, sliding a chair up beside her. “I’d never seen so many toys.”
Solrun scans the letter then begins reading out loud:
March 1, 1914
Dearest Ásta,
The day I received your letter, I immediately went to the hospital to find your Mother. She was tending to Sólrún in the children’s ward. The nurse was showing her how to pummel Sólrún’s chest to work the fluid out of her lungs and how to stretch her affected leg so that the joints will not become too stiff.
It was a good decision to send Freyja along as translator. The doctor
reports Sólrún has infantile paralysis. She is weak but her spirits are good. The doctor called her ‘plucky’ which means the same as brave. I looked it up in the dictionary.
I told Stanley’s parents about your Mother’s situation and you will be relieved to know that they insisted your family stay with them. They even sent a car to pick them up from the hospital. At first your Mother was hesitant, but Freyja talked her into it.
Each was given their own room (even Lars) and every morning a car takes your mother to the hospital then picks her up at night. Yesterday, Stanley and I, and our chum Bjarni from the University (I have mentioned him to you before), joined them for dinner. It was a lively time and the first I am sure that the Burroughs were so outnumbered by Icelanders. We kept our manners intact, spoke mostly English, but it was difficult, especially since your Mother could not understand most of what we said.
Stanley’s mother, Elizabeth, is quite taken with Lars so she insists that he stay with her during the day. They still have Stanley’s wind-up toys so Lars is thrilled. Today Freyja came to the University and spent the day with us. Tomorrow Elizabeth will take her to the Hudson’s Bay store on Portage Avenue. Freyja can hardly wait, but she is starting to miss Stefán. I overheard your mother and Freyja arguing but I do not know what it was about.
Rest assured, I have taken care of everything.
Love always, Finn.
“Bjarni,” I say. “That bastard.”
Lars chuckles but Solrun is silent for a few moments. I see that finally she understands why the scrapbook means so much to me.
“It was you I missed most while in the hospital,” she says. “Because of you, nobody treated me any differently after I came home.”
“You didn’t feel sorry for yourself,” I say. This pleases her.
“Do you remember what you told us after Amma’s stroke?” she asks.
I shake my head.
Lars remembers. “You said that it was hard for Amma and that we should treat her the same as always; to look past who she’d become by remembering who she’d been.”
Now I am the one who is pleased. We never know the affect our words might have, but thankfully sometimes people remember and tell us.
* * *
The months flew by and soon I’d have to make a decision.
In the meantime, I enjoyed the store immensely. It was a bit of a challenge keeping everything straight and balancing the ledgers. Mathematics had been my preferred subject in school so I took great pride in knowing exactly how much inventory we had. At any given moment Bjorn could walk in and I could tell him to the penny what had sold, who had paid, how much was owed and the value of goods on hand. He seemed pleased by my diligence.
It was surprising the number of customers who came in. When I wasn’t tallying purchases in the ledger, I measured dress cloth, repackaged the flour, sugar, coffee, and salt from hundred pound bags into five, ten or twenty pound sacks. I stocked the shelves with tobacco, kerosene, matches, lye, ink, and notepaper. We carried a few canned goods, crackers, vanilla, raisins, and cheese. I placed the underwear, shirts, hats, and shoes on one shelf—the razors, pipes, harmonicas, coffee pots, and lanterns behind the counter. We sold barbed wire, chicken wire, pliers, nuts, and bolts. Pretty much whatever was needed, we stocked, and if not, I put it on a list so Bjorn could order it from a wholesaler in Portage la Prairie.
Sometimes when there was nothing to do, I sat on my stool behind the counter writing letters. I became accustomed to the squeal of the mill saw and even welcomed the industrious sound as a pleasant backdrop to my day.
May 6, 1914
Dearest Finn,
I received a letter from Mama today and the good news is that she will be bringing Sólrún home soon, though I expect you already know this.
There are seven men hired at the mill now and Ólafur is one of them. Signý was in the other day and said they need extra money, which does not surprise me. The Thorsteinssons are fencing most of their land with barbed wire (which we all know is costly) so they must pay for it somehow. Little Pétur loves coming in, so does Óli. I always give them a treat. Steini is too young for a sour ball so I give him a licorice whip instead. Signý is expecting again. She says if this one is not a girl, Ólafur is going to have to start sleeping on the sofa. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that so please keep it to yourself.
Yesterday Ási said I am getting fat because of all the candy I eat, but this is not true at all. He is the one with the sweet tooth. I am starting to worry about him, though. I’ve noticed that he often smells of liquor, sometimes already by afternoon. I don’t have the courage to tell his wife. Has your father said anything to you?
Amma adjusted surprisingly well to Mama being gone, but I give all the credit to Thora. She takes such good care of Amma and even gives her a daily whiff of snuff and, while it is disgusting, Amma enjoys it so much we cannot deny her that pleasure. Wait until Mama gets home, she will be livid.
I think Guðrún has the toughest job right now. Since Mama left she’s been baking bread for our family as well. Have you seen how much bread Leifur eats?
When are you coming home? I can hardly wait to see you.
Tell Stanley that Leifur and I would like to meet him. Knowing he already has friends waiting here might entice him to come.
Lovingly, Ástfriður
On the day Mother and the children were scheduled to arrive home from Winnipeg, Bergthora drove me home in the democrat. She’d baked a cake that I held on my knees.
Father came in from fencing early and we checked the clock. Then he looked out the window. Checked the clock again. He startled when he saw our new democrat coming up the road, ran outside with me behind him. Leifur barely had the horses stopped and Mother was off her seat, running toward us. Pabbi braced himself as she flew into his open arms, then he swung her around.
Freyja nearly knocked me over with her hug.
“I need Amma,” Lars said, darting past us to the house.
Leifur lifted Solrun out of the back seat. She was wrapped in the same blanket as the day she left. Pabbi’s eyes glistened as Leifur carried her inside.
I expected Leifur would lay Solrun down on the sofa, but instead he put her feet first on the floor in front of Amma, who was sitting in the kitchen with Lars on her lap, then unwrapped the blanket.
Solrun threw her arms to the ceiling. “See my new leg?” She beamed, first at Amma then up at us, lifting her skirt to show off the brace before clanking across the floor.
“Well look at that,” Pabbi said. “Good as new.”
Determined to prove him right, Solrun stomped back and forth, calling each of us by name to be sure we were watching.
“It cost more than the others,” Mother whispered. “It bends at the knee—”
Pabbi quickly waved off talk of money. “Then you made the only choice.”
Mother explained how important it was to remove the brace twice daily and that Solrun’s leg be flexed and stretched every night then again in the morning. She needed to walk each day without it to help strengthen her leg. If we were diligent, someday she might not need it at all.
“From now on everyone washes their hands, especially after visiting the outhouse,” Mother said, herding us all to the wash basin.
That night, I overheard Mother and Pabbi talking.
“Uncleanliness,” she whispered.
Now I see her standing in the hospital room. Freyja interprets as the doctor explains the cause of what we now call Polio. Mother’s face is crimson and I feel her shame. She flinches as her eyes go to the window and she cannot face the doctor again.
Freyja had matured so much in her time away that now I barely knew her. Three months of freedom in the city had made her bold.
“I know what I want to do,” she said the following morning as we walked together to the store. She was intent on see
ing Stefan and knew he’d be delivering the mail. “There is a need for translators in Winnipeg. Kent says there are so few. I have already applied to study at the Academy.”
“Do you like Winnipeg?” I asked.
“It is beautiful. There is so much to see and do. I would like to go this fall with you, that is if Pabbi has enough money to send me.”
We knew that Mother had taken the little box that held our education fund to Winnipeg but only our parents knew how much was left.
“What will you tell Stefan?” I asked.
“I want him to come with us,” she said, giddy with excitement. “You heard Gudrun. He would make an excellent lawyer. He is clever, you know. Kent says the firm needs young men like him.”
I thought about what he’d said to me in the barn.
“He loves to fish,” I warned. “And he shows no interest in going to school.”
“Maybe so, but fishing is so difficult for him,” she said. “Kent says he can begin this winter by doing research for the other lawyers, to see if he enjoys it. I hope that Kent will talk sense into him.”
Mother had convinced the Burroughs to visit so they decided to come out with Finn, two days before The Narrows picnic.
“He is a very convincing man,” Freyja said. “Very successful.”
To be honest, I was growing tired of hearing about Stanley and his family.
Then a thought struck her. “Are you still planning to go?”
I told her I wasn’t sure. I’d put off sending in my application and wasn’t sure if I’d be accepted for that fall.
She rolled her eyes. “All because of Bjorn. I see the way he looks at you. Everyone does, including Finn. I think it worries him.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “Bjorn and I are just friends.”
“Then why?”
Before I had the chance to explain, Freyja saw Stefan in the mill yard on the horse Magnus had given him, just as Stefan had predicted. She called his name and when he saw her, he jumped down, dropped the mail bag, and the two collided in an embrace. They kissed for so long that when Bjorn came out of the store, he abruptly turned around to go back inside.
Be Still the Water Page 33