Be Still the Water

by Karen Emilson

  “She never did, not once,” Thora said proudly.

  “And now he is coming home,” Gudrun said.

  “I could not ask for a finer daughter-in-law than you,” J.K. said, pulling me close. Then he laughed, pushing me back so he could see my face. “That is presuming the two of you still intend to marry.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “I know it will be three weeks until you are home,” he said. “We will bring him by to see the two of you tomorrow, around dinner time?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I said.

  When the door closed behind them I stood in the middle of the floor listening to their footsteps and laughter down the hall. Once all was silent, except for the sound of the occasional car passing on the street, I pulled open the top drawer of my bureau. Fishing underneath my stockings and undergarments I found Bjorn’s letter from the year before, still unopened. Was it time?

  I closed my eyes to take in the silence. I could feel my heart beating quick and solid in my chest. I could see J.K. and Gudrun’s smiling faces. My thoughts rewound and, in perfect sequence, I remembered all the times Finn and I had spent together; sun on our faces as we sailed the bay, his frustration and my laughter every time I beat him at chess, the quickening deep inside me when he took me in his arms and kissed my lips and neck. Then I allowed myself to feel again the heartbreak over losing Bjorn to Steina, my initial apprehension towards Finn, and then, finally, the love that blossomed between us.

  I was consumed by guilt. A lie by omission was still a lie and I’d been deceiving everyone, including myself, these past three years. The truth was, deep inside where we hide our worst fears, I’d had no more faith than anyone else that Finn would survive. I simply pretended for his sake and mine.

  And now he was back so I could allow myself to feel again. I laughed out loud and cried, still holding the envelope. Taking a deep breath, I went to the window and pushed it open wide.

  It was time I let go of Bjorn once and for all.

  I held the letter up then, difficult as it was, ripped it in half, then three times again, until his words were broken into tiny pieces. I threw them out into the wind.

  Thora floated in hours later, humming to herself. We agreed this was the happiest day we’d experienced since coming to Winnipeg. We decided that, next morning, whoever was finished the exam first would wait in the lobby for the other.

  “Are you excited?” she asked.

  Finn had been absent so long, I was still finding it difficult to believe he was on his way back to me.

  “I am,” I said, reaffirming the vow I’d made seven years earlier.

  Nursing school taught us many lessons, but none more useful than discipline and focus. I put Finn out of my mind and methodically answered every question on the exam, finishing shortly after Thora. I went to the lobby but she wasn’t there. I paced until I could stand it no longer then asked a classmate if she’d seen her.

  “Thora left. With her mother.”

  I went to the window but saw nothing, so I hurried down the steps, expecting to see them waiting for me around the corner in the shade, or on the bench in the hospital garden. I circled the hospital and the residence, realizing that somehow I’d missed them.

  Dread grew in my stomach as I waited in the stuffy room, preparing to begin the next exam. I watched the door until Thora hurried in, barely in time, red-cheeked and breathless. Our eyes met and she waved, taking the last seat left at the back of the room.

  Focus, I told myself. There was a reasonable explanation. Thora would tell me once the exam was written. The instructor closed the door, set the timer, then told us to begin.

  When we were finished, I met Thora at the door.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you,” she said. “Finn couldn’t make it up the steps. He was late getting in, not until this morning. They needed to hurry or they’d miss the train.”

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “Tired, and his leg is sore. All he wanted was to go home.”

  “Did he ask about me?” I said, feeling silly.

  She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes, he can hardly wait to see you. Everything will be better once he is settled.”

  Miss Gray called it ‘an unfortunate blessing.’

  With so many injured men returning to Manitoba, it was easy to find a job nursing. Thora and I were each offered a position at the IODE Convalescent Soldiers Home beginning in July and we both accepted.

  On May 23, 1917 our graduating class gathered to receive diplomas and school medals. A photo was taken in front of the residence.

  “Well done, good and faithful servant,” Superintendent Gray said as she pinned the school medal on each of our chests. The Lieutenant-Governor, J.S. Hough, and the Chairman of the Hospital Board, handed us our diplomas.

  “Impressive,” the chairman said when it was my turn. “I dare say, if I ever end up in hospital it is you I will request as my nurse.”

  The following day we bid our good-byes, but it took longer than expected. Our intention had been to visit Freyja’s grave before we left, but time was running short.

  “We will be back soon enough,” I said to Thora. We told the driver to take us directly to the station.

  We boarded the train. It chugged its way through the north end of the city. I craned my neck as we crossed Brookside Boulevard, looking for the cemetery. Brimming with melancholy, I promised Freyja in a prayer that I would replace the wooden marker with a proper stone once I’d saved enough money.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Varied will be his fortunes who fares far.

  —The Saga of Friðþjóf the Bold

  Leifur leapt aboard the train to hug me and then Thora. Marriage must have softened him. He introduced us to Sigrid after loading our duffels into the back of the democrat. We chatted the whole way home.

  “Have you seen Finn?” I asked.

  “A few times,” he said. “Still recovering. You heard Bergthora died?”

  I told him yes, that during their visit J.K. and Gudrun had delivered the news.

  As the horses fell into rhythm, their shoes clopping down the road, it felt as if we’d never left.

  “Tell me about the motorized cars,” he said. “Is there much work for men in the city?”

  “Did you go to a picture show?” Sigrid asked.

  “Does anyone talk about the price of grain?” he asked.

  Merriment carried us the whole way home.

  “Everyone from the community is invited to your homecoming tomorrow afternoon,” Sigrid said. “Gudrun is throwing it.”

  I’d bought a dress at the Hudson’s Bay store and silent pleasure swirled inside me as I imagined the look on Finn’s face when he saw me in it.

  As we turned the final mile, I was amazed by how alive everything looked. Leifur said the leaves had been out for two weeks already and that he’d never seen so many Saskatoon blossoms.

  Someone must have been waiting by the window because as soon as the road opened up into the yard, they all came out at once. Mother and Pabbi stood beaming beside the oak, while Lars ran onto the road with Solrun limping behind him.

  They looked at me, mouths wide in astonishment. Pabbi held his tears, face beaming with pride, while Mother allowed hers to flow. She told me later that she’d hoped I’d surprise them all by bringing Freyja with me. That disappointment was the only thing that tarnished the sweet reunion for her. I climbed out of the democrat. Leifur and Sigridur carried on down the road, taking Thora home.

  “Asta, you cut your hair,” Mother exclaimed. It had been a year since I’d done it, so I’d forgotten. I was proud of it. With the weight gone, it bounced in a mass of chin-length curls.

  “You look marvelous,” Pabbi said.

  Polio had stunted Solrun’s growth a bit so she was small for a ten-year-old.


  “Where is your brace?” I asked her.

  “I barely need it anymore,” she said, chin turned up with delight.

  Lars hugged me quietly. He came nearly to my shoulders.

  “Where is Finn?” I asked.

  Then I saw Setta, tail wagging from where she sat under the tree. “Come on girl,” I called, and she heaved herself up, wagging over. She’d turned gray around the muzzle but, except for a hint of sadness, nothing had changed her eyes. Leifur had warned me that she’d aged a lot the past few years and that sometimes her hips were so stiff she couldn’t stand.

  “Finn sent word he is too tired,” Mother said, motioning that we follow her into the house. “I held supper for you.”

  “How is he?” I linked my arm in hers.

  “We are just thankful he is alive.”

  The next morning when I came down for breakfast it felt strange to not have Amma and Leifur there. Mother already had a batch of buns in the oven for the party. Pabbi squeezed my shoulder gently before hurrying out to do chores.

  “This came for you yesterday.” Mother handed me a small package from Bjorn. She waited, studying my reaction. “I think you should open it.”

  “I will,” I said, tucking it in my dress pocket then sat down at the table.

  Solrun pulled her chair close to mine while Lars sat in Mother’s chair. Both were curious about the hospital, having only faint memories of it.

  “Is my friend Betsy still there?” Solrun asked.

  “No, Betsy went home.”

  “Did you make her better?”

  “She was a good patient,” I fibbed, glancing up at Mother who was slicing rúllupylsa onto a plate. “When you are grown up you can come visit Finn and me in the city and I will take you to see her.”

  Mother turned her head slightly, a dove-like smile parting her lips.

  “Did you go see Elizabeth?” Solrun asked.

  “Only once. She has moved back to England to be near her family.”

  Solrun looked across the table at Lars who was waiting patiently for his turn. They shared a silent moment of understanding, then she nudged him with her eyes.

  He hesitated. “Did you find Freyja?”

  They waited, wide-eyed with anticipation. I was surprised, but thinking back, I suppose it is logical that children so young would draw such a conclusion. Freyja and I both went away, now I was back.

  “Yes, I found her.”

  Mother’s hands became still. The children beamed.

  “Where is she?” Solrun asked.

  “She was living in Winnipeg for a while but now she’s gone,” I said.

  “Where did she go?”

  “Home.”

  Mother inhaled sharply and our eyes met across the kitchen.

  “Back to Iceland?” asked Solrun.

  I hesitated. “It is very beautiful there and she loves it very much.”

  “But why did she go, is she angry with us?” Lars asked.

  “Of course not.” I said. “Freyja is not mad at anyone. She is very happy.”

  “I miss her,” Solrun said.

  “So do I, but when I am feeling lonely I talk to her,” I said. “Always remember that once a person has lived in a place, a part of them remains there forever.”

  Solrun’s eyes went to the spot on the bench where Freyja once sat.

  “Will I ever see her again?” she asked.

  “You will, someday.”

  “That is what Amma told me, in the dream,” Lars said. “I will find her living in a castle in the mountains by the ocean.”

  A calm warmth settled over me as I went upstairs to get ready to see Finn. So much in my life had changed and yet here at Eikheimar everything was much the same. I took the package from my pocket and placed it on the night stand.

  A person would have to be deaf not to hear Signy and her family arrive. I ran downstairs the moment I heard the commotion in the kitchen, and she met me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “That,” she squealed, pointing at my dress, “is beautiful.”

  I spun around to show off the feathery hem. The dress was sailor-inspired—all the rage—cream-colored with a V-neck, fitted with a wide waistband. It sported navy blue embellishments on the cuff and a cord that crisscrossed down the front. I wore a matching hat. It is the only dress I’ve ever owned worth describing.

  “Do you think Finn will like it?”

  “Of course he will,” she said.

  I blushed. “Do you think this time you will have a girl?” I lay a hand on her bulge before hugging her tight.

  “No, I have given up,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  As we came into the kitchen, Olafur let out a long, slow whistle then pulled his arms up to protect himself when Signy darted over to poke him.

  “She is spoken for, and so are you.”

  “Now, now, dear wife,” he said, lifting back the cloth on the counter to sneak a piece of rúllupylsa, “you are just as beautiful.”

  “Ha.” She rolled her eyes again. “I look worse than a sack of flour compared to her. Look at her, look at her!”

  Olafur grinned, eyes focused on the plate as he took another slice of meat, folding it in half into his mouth. “Not falling for that again. No sirree.”

  We laughed and chatted our way out to the wagon. I rode beside Signy so she could fill me in on all the local gossip, but I barely heard any of it. My heart was racing wildly as we came through the bush trail. What an incredible feeling it was—seeing the lake spread out like a magnificent sheet of glass, even more mesmerizing than I remembered. Neighbors were milling around J.K.’s house while children of all ages and sizes ran along the beach and through the yard.

  Finn was standing under a tree in the front yard with the men gathered around. He and one of the Larson boys were the only two in uniform. They were looking at something that lay at Finn’s feet as he leaned against his gun, grinning wildly.

  Someone called out, “Asta’s here,” and my cheeks warmed. Finn looked up in our direction as Olafur circled the drive and stopped the wagon. This was the moment I’d waited on for three long years.

  Finn handed Asi his gun and came across the yard, favoring his left leg. I jumped down and ran to him. I’d seen many soldiers on Winnipeg streets so it had been easy to imagine what he might look like in uniform, but he was even more handsome than I’d expected. His eyes shone more fiercely than I remembered. He hesitated, like me, as if he could hardly believe the moment was real.

  “Asta,” he said warmly, opening his arms. I flung mine around him hard, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

  The men hooted and the women clapped as we kissed. For a fleeting moment it felt different, he felt different, but I brushed the notion aside and it vanished as quick as it had come.

  “Come see what I shot,” he said, taking my hand. The circle of men opened to let us in and there, lying on the ground with a bullet in its heart, was the fiercest looking wolf I’d ever imagined. It was nearly black with a gray underbelly. Its yellow eyes were shocked open in death and it bled from the mouth, tongue pinched between jagged teeth.

  “How much do you think it weighs?” someone asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Olafur said, pushing past. He bent over and tried picking it up by the hind legs, but it was so heavy he was forced to kneel then wrestle it into a bear hug to get it off the ground.

  “Hundred and sixty?” he guessed.

  “At least,” someone said.

  Finn’s youngest brother ran to us from the barn holding a rope. He handed it to Finn, who knotted it tight around the wolf’s back legs; he threw the loose end over a branch and, with Olafur’s help, hoisted it off the ground. It was then I noticed the three medals pinned to Finn’s chest.

  Leifur stood watching with no expression at all. He caught my e
ye then turned, walking back toward the house. Anxious to get away from the gruesome sight, I followed.

  “Has he talked to you yet?” he asked quietly.

  “We haven’t had the chance,” I said.

  He issued a warning: “Prepare yourself. So far I have not liked what I’ve heard.”

  Caught in the web of women, all anxious to admire my dress, I found myself migrating farther and farther away from Finn, who was surrounded by the men desperate to hear a firsthand account of the war. We stole smiles at each other, before patiently returning to the conversations at hand.

  Mid-afternoon, J.K. stood on the third verandah step and tinkled his fork against his glass so that everyone would gather around. No event at Siglunes was considered a true success unless someone made a speech, and usually it was J.K.

  He began by welcoming everyone. Since it was time to eat, he promised to make it quick. Asi stood off to J.K.’s right and rolled his eyes at the crowd in disbelief. He brought his hand up to his mouth, pretending to yawn, and we all laughed.

  J.K. ignored him, saying that he was pleased to have Finn, Thora and me home.

  “Here, here.” Everyone clapped.

  I caught Magnus’s eye and he bowed his head. I guessed life must be lonely for him now with Bjorn moved away, Amma and Bergthora both gone.

  “Before I speak to each of our honored guest’s accomplishments, I would like ask that we stand in silence, to acknowledge all the young men who have given their lives, including our own Jon Larson and, though he did not die on the battlefield, Stefan Frimann. Both will always be remembered as brave, courageous young men.”

  Asi sniffled loudly as we bowed our heads. The air was clear and silent; the only sounds were the waves gently lapping against shore. When J.K. prayed, his deep voice resonated out over the water.

  J.K. described the day he found out that Finn had enlisted and the three years of uncertainty that followed; the time Thora spent caring for Amma while I assisted in the store after the Magnusson’s devastating loss, and how it felt to send us to the city, how badly we were all missed.

  “God went with them,” J.K. said, sending shivers up our spines, “and now God has brought them home.”