Be Still the Water

by Karen Emilson

  “Not so far.”

  “Time will tell.” Minnie tilted her head at Thora and me. “What is your sister’s name?” she asked.

  A feeling of utter dread came over me, escalating to the point I could barely speak.

  “Freyja.”

  “Why did she run away?”

  Her question took me aback.

  “Come now, you must know,” she asked. “How do you expect me to help if you keep secrets?”

  Thankfully, Doris interjected. “She is young, petite. White curly hair. Timid.”

  “There is no one here by that name,” Minnie said.

  “But there is a girl here who fits that description,” Doris pressed. “Might we talk to her? To find out if she is Doctor Bjornsson’s niece?”

  “Why did he not come here himself?” she asked.

  Doris was crafty indeed. “Surely he would be seen,” she said. “How would he explain it to the Board? We both could lose our only ally at the hospital.”

  Minnie thought for a few minutes then she let out a powerful sigh. She called for the girl who’d answered the door.

  “Go get Anna,” she said. “She has visitors.”

  A jarring silence fell over the room as the girl hurried up the stairs. Doris made small talk but all I heard were footsteps on the floor above us. I could not take my eyes off the staircase and held my breath as a pair of legs wearing a short dress started slowly down the stairs. The girl hesitated, then she appeared around the corner.

  She looked so much like Freyja that, had I seen her at a distance, I would have easily believed she was my sister. I saw relief as her eyes settled on us, likely that we were not men.

  Minnie measured all our reactions. Mine was sheer delight. Never have I been so glad to be disappointed. I would have wished dear sweet Freyja dead rather than live through what this poor girl must endure.

  The girl stood with her mouth open ever so slightly, staring across the room at Thora and me. She looked beaten down and I thought of Einar. Anger flared and for a moment I imagined what Amma would do if she stood in my spot. Decisions are often made in an instant.

  I spoke quietly in Icelandic. “I came looking for my sister. Do you want to leave this place? You can pretend to be her and we will take you with us.”

  She tilted her head with a look of utter disbelief.

  “My sister’s name is Freyja Gudmundsson. I am Asta. This is Thora. Come across the floor and hug us so she believes we are sisters.”

  Anja looked at Minnie whose eyes already showed suspicion. The girl was terrified and uncertain.

  “Anna, what is she saying?” Minnie asked.

  “You have been praying to God, haven’t you?” I said, grabbing the girl’s attention again. “Who do you think sent us here?”

  Anja inhaled sharply. Her eyes turned inward. She found the strength to look at Minnie, but only for a moment. She whispered that she was sorry, then came across the floor. I took her in my arms and, closing my eyes, imagined for a moment. We both laughed and wiped away the tears.

  Minnie clearly trusted none of this, but dared not risk getting on the wrong side of Doctor Bjornsson. Doris thanked her as we hurried to the door.

  Anja hesitated. “My things.”

  “Leave them,” I said, my hand grasping hers tightly. “You want no reminder of this place.”

  We climbed into the cart. I turned back, waving wildly at Minnie standing in the doorway, wickedly pleased with myself. I relished the moment she realized she’d been duped; it was too late, Doris had already snapped the whip and we were away.

  Doctor Bjornsson contacted Anja’s parents and she returned to New Iceland within the week, and Doris promised to watch for Freyja. It was reassuring to know that the circle of people looking for her was widening.

  January 28, 1916

  Dear Pabbi and Mama,

  I hope this letter finds everyone in good health.

  Normally the hospital is filled to capacity this time of year but patient numbers are down. Superintendent Gray warns this respite will be brief.

  I find working the night shift agrees with me. I have no trouble sleeping during the day and wake refreshed. This is opposite to most, however the superintendent says she is much the same as I, and does her best work at night.

  As a reward for achieving the highest marks last term, the superintendent invited me to attend the third reading of the Bill, asking that women in Manitoba be granted the vote. There was not one seat in the gallery. Being I am so tall, I stood near the back.

  Tómas Jónsson did not let us down! I am sure you’ve heard by now that he was Acting Premier and he moved the Bill. Some say that Premier Norris wanted to save face with people on both sides of the debate, so he was purposely absent that day. Even though all women are not yet allowed to vote, at least this is a start. I was disappointed that Margrét Benedictsson was not there to witness it. Apparently the worst possible fate has befallen her—failing eyesight. Margrét now lives in Washington State.

  As you will see in the clippings I’ve enclosed, there is much talk about conscription and the government is trying to determine how many men live in Manitoba.

  Have you received a ballot in the mail? Tell Leifur to ignore it. That is what many men in the city are doing.

  I received a letter from Finn a few days ago. The gas crippled his lungs but not enough that they will send him home. Tell J.K. and Gudrún that he is doing fine and is too busy to write.

  Love, Ástfriður

  I unfolded Finn’s letter to re-read it:

  December 24, 1915

  Ásta,

  Forgive me for not writing sooner. Every time I sit down to it I am forced to recall the last weeks and must decide what to include about life here on the front line. In all honesty, the terror leaves me without words.

  My lungs have healed but I can no longer run like before. They sent me from the hospital to Linghem (in France) then back to Ypres where I am now. Both George and I have been outfitted with sniper’s capes and rifles that have a telescopic sight. I prefer the intense nature of sharp shooting to fieldwork despite its dangers, because there is no room to allow my mind to wander. That gets many men killed.

  Initially I was ashamed to say that this Battalion from Winnipeg was nicknamed the ‘Little Black Devils,’ but now I say it with pride. When entering the gates of hell, it does a man no good to have angels by his side if he has any hope of surviving this God-forsaken place. Had I known war would be like this, I never would have enlisted. Cowardice is the worst crime, so I admit this to no one. Instead, I put on a brave face and pretend I am not here.

  Now I understand Stefán’s pain the day he shot his arm. Seeing others die with similar injuries speaks to his strong constitution. It is too bad that he drowned, but there are much worse ways to die. At least he lies at home, in peace.

  All that keeps me alive are thoughts of you and beautiful Siglunes. I miss the lake desperately. I no longer desire a life in Winnipeg. All I want is to come home.

  Finn

  Oh, how my life could have turned out differently. Take Finn’s letter for example. It is obvious now what I should have seen when I read it. Had I examined it critically, instead of lying to myself and everyone else, I would have been better prepared when the final blow came. I was also blind in my search for Freyja. Every path led to the same conclusion, but I refused to accept it.

  Amma had read from the Sagas: ‘Nothing good can happen to people who break their solemn vows.’ Noble, but not easy to live up to. Just try making a promise then watch how fate turns on its head, rejoicing at your sorrow as it throws daggers in your path.

  That is exactly what happened that year to me. It began one day in the second week of June.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Nothing good can happen to people who break their solemn vows.


  —The Saga of Hrafnkels Freysgoða

  There were a half dozen students standing in the reception room whispering as I pulled open the door after a harried day. A summer flu was making its rounds.

  They tittered when they saw me. Superintendent Gray’s office door was ajar and she was watching.

  He was standing with his back to the room, arms folded across his chest, admiring a painting by the staircase. A duffel sat on the floor at his feet. The moment our eyes met, a wide smile opened across his face.

  He was still the finest man this earth had ever seen.

  “Bjorn,” I sang.

  “Asta, it is so good to see you.” His eyes settled first on my cap then moved quickly over my uniform. “Look at you.”

  I blushed, feeling proud.

  He came across the floor, taking me into his arms, hugging me hard. By then, Superintendent Gray stood in her doorway. The girls were swooning as I took him over to meet her. Once we’d dispensed with the pleasantries, she reminded me that men were not allowed beyond the reception area.

  “He is not my beau,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm again. “Just a friend from home.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, lips tight. “You know the rules. Change before going out. Report to me when you return.”

  I left a note for Thora telling her Bjorn was in town, that we were going for supper, then hurried back to find him standing on the sidewalk.

  “Thought I should wait out here,” he said. “Miss Gray makes me nervous.”

  “She is like that to everyone.” I laughed, trotting down the steps. “How long are you here for?”

  “A few days.”

  “Hungry?” I asked. “I know a place.”

  “So this is where you work.” He tilted his head back to see the hospital towering overhead.

  “Mostly we go in this door. Patients through the front.”

  “Far more impressive than my store at Siglunes.” He chuckled. “It embarrasses me now to think I tried to talk you into staying.”

  I groaned, swinging his hand. “Sometimes I long for those days again.”

  “But you enjoy nursing?”

  “I do. And I don’t despise the city.”

  “How can you enjoy this?” he asked. I knew he meant the buildings, people and noise.

  “I love the motorcars,” I said, giving him a sly look. “You chose a good time to come.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s the most beautiful month of the year,” I said. “Look how green it is, not as beautiful as Siglunes, but the city is never so fresh as this.”

  The café was dwarfed by two large buildings, Lögberg headquarters on one side, a bookstore on the other.

  “This is Runey’s,” I said. “We have to eat here. They will let us sit and talk for as long as we want.”

  Doctor Bjornsson was getting up to leave as we came in. With the exception of Sunday at church, it wasn’t often we saw each other outside of the hospital. I introduced the two of them; it was the first time they’d met, though each knew of the other, his profession, and efforts in the search for Freyja.

  “In the city for a few days?” the doctor asked, paying his chit. “You should try to take in a few sights.”

  “I am, and I will,” he said.

  “I am off to Winnipeg Beach. We have a summer cottage there. My wife has been expecting me for a few days now, but you know how it is at the hospital.”

  He took from his pocket a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.

  “I was going to leave this for you with Superintendent Gray,” he said. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  We found a quiet table along the window. I anxiously read the note.

  “He has done further investigating. Apparently last winter Bjarni was seen with a girl matching Freyja’s description. He will ask Bjarni himself, but he wants to wait a few days. Bjarni’s Afi died and the funeral is tomorrow.”

  “We should go,” Bjorn said. “I would like to meet this scoundrel and ask him a few questions.”

  “I can’t risk it,” I said. “If Bjarni writes another letter—”

  “After I finish with him he won’t be writing to anyone,” Bjorn said.

  The waitress came to our table but we hadn’t yet opened the menu. Bjorn quickly looked it over. I ordered the same as always—lamb chops with potatoes and peas. Bjorn ordered the beef kidney pie.

  The café was quickly filling up.

  “So what has brought you to the city?” I asked, shaking away thoughts of Bjarni.

  His eyes lingered for a moment on the young couple seated at the table next to us. “You.”

  My stomach lurched. “Nothing bad has happened?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he said, eyes meeting mine. “But your letters do leave me wondering. They are . . . vague.”

  I apologized, saying there was so little to report. “I’ve had to put Freyja out of my mind to get through my studies. The work is very demanding.”

  He let me go on and on about the schedule, the patients, other nurses and the staff. I must have talked without interruption for a half hour until I finally caught myself, seeing he was listening but focused on his plate, looking up from it to watch the goings on out the window.

  “What is it?”

  His eyes slowly met mine. “I wonder why it is you never mention Finn.”

  “There is nothing to say,” I said, pushing my empty plate away. “He seldom writes because he finds it too difficult.”

  Bjorn’s voice softened. “Do you write to him?”

  “Of course.”

  We spent the next hour catching up. He described Stefan’s funeral, saying that he was buried in a spot overlooking the lake. I’d already written about visiting the brothel, but he wanted me to tell him the part about spiriting Anja away firsthand.

  “That was very brave of you,” he said. “I will tell your Amma the story when I get home.”

  We each ordered a piece of pie. I told him everything I’d done to find Freyja, including putting notices up in places I thought she might frequent. I’d visited another halfway house, and even one for unwed mothers, but had come away with nothing.

  “I am beginning to think—” but I could not say the words out loud. Tears blurred everything and I pushed the pie aside. “Please don’t tell Mama, not yet.”

  We left the café and walked together for hours, so absorbed in conversation we saw nothing around us. Finally we settled on a bench in front of the hospital.

  “Father has decided to sell Asi the mill,” he said. “His wife will take over the store.”

  I’d been so preoccupied with my own worries that I hadn’t even seen that there was something he’d been waiting to tell me.

  “Sell the store? What are you going to do?” For a brief moment I thought he might say he had no plans of going home, that he was in the city for good. The notion was so appealing it excited me more than I dared admit.

  He must have read my mind because he looked pleased. “I am going back to Swan River,” he said softly. “I have decided to buy the store from Sifton.” He waited for my reaction but I was so surprised by the news I didn’t know what to say.

  “It is a beautiful place and business is booming. I already have a spot picked out right along the river to build a house, not far from the school. I think it will be a wonderful place to raise a family.” He took my hand. “The town has even built a new hospital and they are looking for qualified nurses.”

  The feeling that came over me compares to nothing else I have ever experienced; it was utter joy and grief all rolled into one. I knew what he was hinting at without him having to say it. The emotion began rising in my throat. Swan River. With Bjorn.

  “Happy Birthday,” he said.

  “You remembered?”

  “Of course,” he said, ta
king a small box from his pocket. Inside was a gold locket dangling from a bronze bow studded with diamonds and tiny ceramic flowers. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’d ever seen.

  “I can’t accept it,” I whispered, but could barely take my eyes off the necklace.

  “Because you are still engaged to Finn,” he said, watching my reaction carefully.

  “Yes.”

  “But it must be hard for you,” he said, softly. “Not knowing if he is coming home.”

  “He will.”

  Bjorn studied me as I blinked back tears.

  “I cannot give up on him,” I said. “Finn has been so patient and now he needs me more than ever.”

  “But do you love him?”

  I hesitated. Closed my eyes so that everything I was feeling would slide into focus. “Enough that I will not hurt him,” I finally said. “What sort of man would even want a woman so callous?”

  Surprised, but pleased by my answer, the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “An imperfect man. One who has made mistakes of his own,” he said, closing the box and returning it to is pocket. “I was once loved by a young girl, but was too preoccupied to see it. I’d do anything to have that love again.”

  I had not expected our evening to turn out this way, him baring his soul. I wished that I could rewind, not just that day, but my whole life since meeting him, to start over again.

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in tight. We sat like that for a long while in silence as the light around us faded and the air grew damp. Finally, it was time for me to go in.

  “Where will you stay tonight?” I asked as we drifted toward the residence door.

  “The Leland Hotel. I’ve been there before.”

  We stood awkwardly knowing we needed to say good-bye. A motorcar rounded the corner. Four young recruits in uniform hung over the side, tight on booze, hooting as they sped by.

  “Get a haircut,” one of them yelled as they passed us.

  I burst into laughter seeing Bjorn’s shocked face. He growled, grabbed me by the waist and began tickling, then pulled me close. His warmth was intoxicating; our faces inches apart. Another car was coming, this one for hire. He stuck out his arm to flag it down.