The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1)

by Riker, Becky

  Karlijna looked to the man and shook her head, “I have no trade skills. I am able to do needlepoint, play music– not well, I’m afraid. My tutors were ever despairing of my learning anything at all.” She returned to her work, “I have no skills to help people. I was trained to be a wife,” she sighed softly, “not a worker.”

  Leif laughed heartily, “My wife would take offense to that.”

  “What?” Karlijna was confused.

  “That a wife does not work. I think I will not repeat it.”

  Karlijna agreed that he had made a wise choice. She thought the conversation was over, but her employer did not leave.

  “I may know of a job for you.”

  Karlijna looked up, “Yes?”

  Before he could answer, a voice came from the front.

  “I’m looking for Leif Anderson,” she heard a man say in Swedish that was probably worse than her own.

  “I am Leif Anderson.”

  “My name is Michael Gunderson. My mother is Sigrid Gunderson.”

  There was a brief moment of silence before Leif erupted, “Ingrid,” he hollered for his wife, “my nephew is here from America!”

  Leif sent one of his children for Torkel and their cousins.

  “Karlijna,” Leif called out, “Come and meet my sister’s boy, Michael.”

  The girl emerged from the room and saw a young man in a uniform. Whether he was young or old, handsome or ugly, she could not say. All the young woman saw was the green uniform.

  On legs that felt near to giving way, she forced herself to move toward the counter. Karlijna swallowed and desperately fought the urge to run and hide. That, of course, would be an indicator of guilt.

  If there was one thing Karlijna had learned in the past year, it was to avoid the appearance of guilt. Could this man tell she had escaped the camp? Her hair was still very short and uneven, but it was all covered with her scarf. She glanced down at her wrist and saw that the sleeve had slid a bit. She tugged the fabric over the offending marks.

  How had he found her? Was he here to return her or to kill her? Why hadn’t she stayed in hiding a little longer?

  Karlijna remained rooted to the spot. It took all the strength she had. She stared with large dark eyes at the man’s outstretched hand, but could not will herself to grasp it.

  A Nazi wanting to shake hands with her? What kind of strangeness was this?

  “Karlijna?” Leif’s voice was kind. He placed and steadying hand on her shoulder and felt the shudder that radiated through her frame, “You may go back to your job.”

  Karlijna nodded but could not take her eyes from the hand in front of her, nor could she move from the spot now that she had permission to go.

  She turned her young face to look at Leif. His expression seemed a mixture of concern and curiosity. It was more than she could bear. Hot tears began coursing down her cheeks. She made no sound, but could not stop the flow.

  Leif gently took her arm and propelled her toward the living quarters of the building. She didn’t notice at first where they were going, and, once she did, she began to resist.

  “No, Leif,” she pulled against him, “he’ll see that I’m not working. I must go to work.”

  “Karlijna,” he led her to a couch, and sat her down, “Michael doesn’t care if you’re working.”

  She heard the words, but they didn’t truly register, “How did he find me? They’ll take me back and. . .and,” she turned half-wild toward Leif’s wife, Ingrid, “Don’t hide me, Ingrid. You can’t hide me because they’ll take you then.”

  Ingrid looked toward her husband for an explanation, but he only shrugged.

  “Can I take a piece of bread with me?” she started toward the door.

  Ingrid cupped Karlijna’s face with a soft hand, “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Karlijna couldn’t believe they were just going to turn her over to the German soldier. Her heart picked up its pace, “I will go without the bread,” she pleaded.

  Leif left the room.

  Ingrid directed the girl back to a chair, “You are staying with us, Karlijna. Nobody is taking you away.”

  Karlijna could hear Leif’s voice and that of the stranger in the next room. She could not make out what they were saying, but she assumed it was about her. The terror increased.

  “’The Lord is my shepherd,” Ingrid’s soft voice broke through her panic, “I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures,’” the words were spoken in Swedish, but they were familiar, nonetheless. Karlijna joined her in German, “’He restores my soul. He leads me in the paths of righteousness, for His name’s sake.’”

  The women continued. At, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” the younger one faltered, but a touch from Ingrid helped her to continue.

  They were nearly to the end when Leif returned, this time with the younger man in tow.

  Ingrid rose and went to them. She embraced the stranger and then turned to Karlijna who, though no longer terrified, was viewing the scene suspiciously.

  “Karlijna,” Ingrid spoke softly as she led the soldier toward the place where the girl sat, “this is Michael. He is not German. He is American.”

  Karlijna realized her mistake immediately. Shame washed over her and she rose, hands covering her mouth. Leif saw this and attempted to help.

  “Do not worry yourself, Karlijna,” he spoke in German, “Michael does not mind. He will understand when I tell him you thought he was German soldier.”

  “Oh, no,” she was horrified, “that will be a greater insult still.”

  Leif and Ingrid laughed. Michael looked confused.

  But when she turned and spoke to the young man, it was their turn to be surprised, “It is vell to meet you, Mr. Michael. I am sorry for bad behaifyor,” she was speaking to their nephew in English.

  The family stared at this young girl, most of them wondering what she said.

  Michael, on the other hand, seemed pleased to hear English, “Do not worry about it. You have been through a lot.”

  “I thank you, Mr. Michael.”

  He laughed and said something she didn’t understand. She frowned, “I am sorry. I just speak small English.”

  He refrained from smiling, not wanting her to think he was making fun of her. This time he spoke in halting Swedish, “I said my last name is Gunderson, not Michael.”

  Karlijna looked at Leif who translated to German.

  “Oh,” Karlijna nodded with a slight upturn of her lips, and spoke again in English, “Thank you Mr. Gunderson.”

  “Michael, please,” he responded. “Please call me Michael.”

  “Michael,” the girl nodded at him before turning to the concerned couple, “I am sorry to you as well, for the disturbance. I am usually sensible.”

  The pair assured her they were not offended, just concerned for her. As to her being sensible, they could certainly attest to that. The girl, who told them she had recently turned seventeen, was more steady and worked harder than most adults. They had taken to her and wished they had a permanent position to offer her.

  There was no more time for talking, however. The family began to descend upon Michael, and there were introductions to be made and questions to be answered. Karlijna managed to slip quietly away from the group and find refuge in her small room.

  Because Karlijna frequently could not eat much at the evening meals, she woke on occasion, needing food. Consequently, she had some bread wrapped in a scrap of fabric as well as two carrots in a tin. Grateful she wouldn’t have to go hungry, Karlijna planned to make a small supper of them. Ingrid had other plans, however.

  “There you are, Karlijna,” the woman ducked through the dividing curtain, “you went so softly away.”

  Karlijna rose to stand in front of this kind woman, “I hope you did not think me rude for leaving without thanking you. I did not wish to intrude on your reunion.”

  Ingrid smiled brightly, “You could never be an intrusion. Please come
join us for supper. We are going to Torkel and Kaaren’s house since they have more room. You are very welcome.”

  Despite her most sincere urging, Ingrid could not persuade the girl to accept. She had to be satisfied with bringing her some apples and cold chicken left over from lunch.

  The next day, Leif took Karlijna to a part of the city she had never before seen. He led her to a large stone house and knocked on the door. She checked to ensure her scarf was tied firmly over her head. Now that she had some hair, the head covering had a tendency to slip.

  A man, so stiff he appeared to have been starched, answered the door and, despite the fact he was many inches shorter than Leif, peered down his nose at the pair.

  “May I help you?” the tone of the question made it seem more like an accusation, but Leif didn’t seem to notice.

  “We’re here to speak to Mr. Sodergaard,” his voice did not hint that there was any doubt the odd little man would comply.

  That person narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

  Briefly, Karlijna thought he would slam the door in their face, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the man turned on his heel and clipped out, “Follow me.”

  Leif nodded his head toward the portal and raised his bushy eyebrows in humor. Karlijna followed the man, and Leif followed her.

  “Please wait here,” he led them to a large office, waited for them to get just inside, and then closed the door firmly behind them.

  “What a personable man,” Leif’s expression was serious, but she knew better.

  “Who is Mr. Sodergard?” Karlijna stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of herself, and looked around the darkly furnished room with interest.

  Leif didn’t worry about formalities. He dropped into a large, leather chair, “He’s a businessman. He owns two factories in the area.”

  “You think he might give me a job in one of his factories?” Karlijna thought she understood the purpose of the visit.

  Leif sat upright, “In a factory?”

  Karlijna’s eyebrows puckered in bewilderment, “I thought we were here looking for a job.”

  “Ah, we are, little girl. We are.”

  Karlijna would have questioned him further, but the door opened.

  “ Leif,” the man who entered seemed surprised and pleased to discover who his visitor was. He turned and looked at the girl, “and who is this?”

  “This is Karlijna Bergstrom, Roald. I think you may have use for her.”

  Mr. Sodergard came close to inspect Karlijna. She could smell his cologne mixed with the faint odor of coffee.

  “How old are you?”

  “I am seventeen,” Karlijna answered him in Swedish and hoped she would not say anything wrong.

  “You are German?” he responded in that language.

  “No, sir, Belgian.”

  “Hm,” she couldn’t tell by that whether he was pleased or displeased.

  He paused for a few moments as he crossed to his desk and sat on its edge, then, “But you are Jewish.”

  Karlijna did not turn to look at him, but stared ahead, “No, sir.”

  “You speak Swedish, obviously,” the statement didn’t require an answer, but Karlijna felt she should clarify.

  “Not well, sir.”

  “French?”

  “Yes,” she dared to turn her eyes toward Leif at this point, but she couldn’t decipher his expression.

  “What else?”

  “Sir?” she actually looked the man in the eye.

  “Other languages?”

  “Yes, sir. Flemish and a little English. I know a few words in Polish, but they are not helpful.”

  The last part slipped out, and Karlijna was glad he didn’t ask what the words were. She had inadvertently learned them from some of the other prisoners. Rude and angry prisoners.

  “Where is your family?”

  Karlijna had not expected this question. She could not answer past the lump in her throat. Despite months to accustom herself to their absence, she had not yet accepted it.

  Leif saw her dilemma, “Miss Bergstrom’s family was torn apart by Nazis, Roald. They are gone.”

  Mr. Sodergard nodded, “I’m sorry.”

  After a few moments’ silence, he moved back in front of her, “I believe I have a job for you. It does not include housing accommodations, at the time. Will this be a problem?”

  Karlijna was about to tell him she could not take the job, but Leif interrupted, “It will not be a problem. She is staying in my back room and may remain there for as long as necessary.”

  Karlijna turned grateful eyes toward him.

  “Very well,” her new boss seemed pleased, “We will expect you to work on Monday morning.”

  The men spoke a few minutes of personal matters before shuffling Karlijna out of the room. The trio was nearly to the front door when she had the presence of mind to stop and speak.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” her voice trembled in her forwardness, “but I don’t know where to report to. Where are the factories?”

  Mr. Sodergard looked momentarily confused, “Factories?”

  “The factory where I will work.”

  Mr. Sodergard looked at Leif, “You told her she would work in a factory?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, “I do not hire young ladies for factory work. I need you here in my home.”

  Karlijna began to speak – to say she did not understand, but he continued.

  “You will be needed mostly in the day, but, on occasion, you will have to be here in the evenings as well.”

  Karlijna smiled, finally realizing what her job would be. She had never been household help, but she knew she could do it.

  She felt she should warn him of her limitations, “My Swedish is not very good.”

  “I think your Swedish is fine, but we can communicate in German if that better suits you. I only have a problem with French.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Karlijna didn’t ask any more questions of Mr. Sodergaard . She was content to have a job and knew she would find out the details as she needed them.

  One thing did concern her, and she brought it up as soon as she and Leif were on their way back to his store, “You told Mr. Sodergaard that I would stay at your store.”

  “Yes, I think that would be fine,” he explained. “Nobody else needs to use it, and the store is not a long walk to here.”

  “Thank you,” Karlijna acknowledged, but continued, “How much will I pay for the rent?”

  Leif stopped walking and looked down at the girl with a scowl, “Rent? There will be no rent. I never charged you rent before.”

  Karlijna only stopped for a moment before continuing down the path, “I worked for you before. It was part of my pay.”

  Leif followed her, shocked into temporary silence.

  “So,” she resumed the conversation minutes later, “how much will I pay for rent?”

  Leif didn’t answer. She could see he had heard her because of the firm set of his jaw, but he walked on without comment.

  “Very well,” she kept pace with him as she spoke, “I shall find a new place today.”

  Leif must have seen he was not going to sway her so he named a price. It was ridiculously low, but she accepted it.

  “Thank you, Leif,” she responded softly.

  Mr. Gunderson was still at his uncle’s home when Leif and Karlijna arrived. Ingrid was eager to hear how the job search went, and, when she heard of the success, the good woman declared the need for a celebration.

  Karlijna was embarrassed at the thought, “Please,” she shook her head, “do not go to trouble for me. You have done so much.”

  Ingrid would not be put off, though.

  “You just sit here with Michael,” she led the girl to a chair in the small living area while divesting her of her coat, “I’ll have a small feast put together, and we will rejoice over this blessing.”

  Karlijna would have rather helped in the kitchen than tried t
o hold a conversation with the American, but she saw no way to say so without offending him.

  She grappled for a topic even as she wondered whether she should speak in English or Swedish. Obviously, his Swedish was no better than hers, and her English was so poor, she might end up saying something completely inappropriate.

  He took the decision from her hands by addressing her in English.

  “Did you grow up here?”

  “No,” she spoke slowly to find the proper words, “I am from Belgium. I only did come two months before.”

  He smiled at her, and she realized he had a dimple in one cheek. It made him seem friendlier. Karlijna relaxed a little.

  “Are you related to Ingrid?”

  “Related?” Karlijna was not sure what the word meant.

  He seemed to understand the problem, “Is she your family? An aunt or cousin?”

  Karlijna shook her head, relieved at comprehending, but wondering how to explain.

  “I am not related, as you say. I am vork for Leif and Ingrid for a small time. Now I find new job and pay for a room to live here.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Gunderson did not seem put out by this, “Is your family still in Belgium?”

  With great effort, Karlijna kept the tears from her eyes, “No. My family vas killed in the var.”

  The young man gently touched her hand, “I am sorry, Miss Bergstrom. It has been a terrible war. So many innocent people have died.”

  Karlijna did not know what innocent meant, but she recognized his compassion. She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands.

  After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat and turned back to her companion, “How long vill you be in Sweden?”

  He looked surprised at the change in topic but rallied, “I’ll leave here on Sunday. I only had a short break.”

  Karlijna went to bed early on Sunday night, thinking to be more refreshed the following day. However, she could not sleep due to her nerves. At the time it had seemed prudent to remain silent, but as she turned from side to side throughout the night, Karlijna could not help but wish she had asked more questions about her duties.

  Was she to be a maid? That she could handle. She had never done it before, but she was not afraid of hard work. She knew what most of the duties of her own family’s maid had been and had even helped out on occasion.