by Riker, Becky
“Hello,” she greeted him as a stranger, knowing he would not appreciate familiarity from a Gentile.
“Can I help you?” his tone was almost civil. Could it be he did not recognize her?
“I am here to pick up my coat. Regina was making me a coat.”
“Ah,” he opened the door wide to let her in. He turned and called for his sister-in-law, “There is a girl here to pick up a coat.”
Karlijna let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Turning slightly away from him so he wouldn’t have the chance to identify her, she waited for Rachel to enter.
Regina came down and smiled at the girl, “You have come. Good. We finished it yesterday.”
Julius sat down in a chair and picked up a newspaper, but clearly his eyes were not missing the scene before him. Karlijna wondered how she could inform Regina of the situation. She thought fast.
“May I see the coat before I pay you?”
Regina looked surprised that Karlijna would ask such a thing. Not only that the girl would mention the pay as if it were Rachel’s idea, but also that she would question the older woman’s workmanship.
“Certainly,” she led Karlijna to the room where Karlijna had stayed while living in their home.
Karlijna pulled the door shut gently, “Regina, Julius has no idea it is me.”
Regina made a noise of disbelief.
Loudly Karlijna said, “This is beautiful work, Regina,” then back to a whisper, “I’m serious. You know he would not be happy to know you are helping me again.”
Regina opened the door quietly before turning back to her guest, “You’re probably right. You do look different now that you’ve put on some weight and your hair has grown a little.”
Karlijna walked into the kitchen, carrying the coat, “Thank you, Regina. I will pay you what we agreed on.”
Regina’s look was placid as she reached out her hand for the money. Her eyes widened as she saw the amount she held. The older woman began to hand it back, but Karlijna would have nothing to do with it.
“This coat is worth every penny of what you charge.”
Regina had nothing to do but accept it. It was either that or give Karlijna away to Julius.
“Would you like me to wrap that with the excess fabric?” Regina’s small voice told the young girl her friend was overwhelmed by the circumstances.
“Excess fabric?” Karlijna was going to get all she could out of the predicament.
“Yes,” Regina was still not sure what had hit her, “There was leftover material after we finished your coat.”
“I’m sure I can’t use it,” she said with a wink in Regina’s direction. She began walking toward the door, carrying her coat over her arm, “If you have no use for it, give it to someone who does.”
Karlijna let herself out and nearly flew to work.
“Karlijna ,” Mr. Sodergaard greeted her at the door some weeks later, “I have received word from Mr. Beauchamp.”
“Yes?” Karlijna didn’t think this was noteworthy as Mr. Sodergaard expected weekly reports from the man. By his tone, she knew there must be something different about this missive.
Mr. Sodergaard helped her with her jacket, “He sent his report with a note saying her would be in Sweden this week.”
Karlijna didn’t respond. She still wasn’t sure what this had to do with her.
Mr. Sodergaard saw she didn’t understand, “I’ll need you to interpret. Mr. Beauchamp doesn’t speak any Swedish.”
This was an addition to Karlijna’s tasks. Her employer had warned her it could happen, but so far it had not. Surprisingly, it did not worry the girl.
“Alright,” she walked into the study and set her lunch bag beside the desk, “when does he arrive?”
Mr. Sodergaard walked to his desk and picked up a letter, “Tomorrow,” he handed the paper to her, “You can read the details yourself.”
He watched her as she skimmed the words, first in French then Swedish.
“I’m sorry to give you such short notice, but, as you can see, I had little myself.”
Karlijna shook her head, “There is no problem. Will you need me here earlier in the mornings?”
Mr. Sodergaard looked startled at the question.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she wondered what she had said wrong, “Did I misunderstand something?”
The man breathed an uncomfortable laugh, “I think so. You see, Mr. Beauchamp doesn’t understand any Swedish at all. He won’t be bringing an interpreter with him, so he will need you available at all times.”
Karlijna’s face paled at this. She lowered herself slowly to her chair.
“I am to be his interpreter?” she looked at him, her eyes large, “His interpreter, not yours?”
Mr. Sodergaard nodded, “I’m sorry for the confusion, Karlijna. If I knew of anyone else who could handle this, I would use them, but you’re my only option.”
Karlijna inhaled and pressed her lips together. She could not doubt the validity of his words, but it was rather awkward.
A thought entered her mind, “How long will he be staying?”
Mr. Sodergaard looked relieved that she had accepted the inevitable, “He is usually here for only a few days, but it could be a week.”
Karlijna cringed at the thought. She would probably not be allowed to go to church on Sunday.
“Where will he be staying?”
“Here, at the house,” he spoke quickly, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here too.”
Karlijna had been afraid of that, “Could I stay until he retires in the evening and be back before he rises?”
Mr. Sodergaard looked pained to refuse her request, “I’m afraid not. Mr. Beauchamp keeps rather irregular hours while here. You may be here one night until nine and the following until midnight. His rising is just as erratic. Besides that, walking home in the dark is not safe for a young lady.”
Karlijna didn’t bother to remind him of the life she led before coming to Sweden. Then, every day was lived on the brink of death. There was no danger she feared walking home at night.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sodergaard. I didn’t understand this. Will he bring a wife?”
“No.”
Karlijna was afraid not and the discomfort was displayed in her voice, “I will be here with two men? Sleeping in the same house with no other woman?”
Mr. Sodergaard didn’t think it would be beneficial to point out that since the butler lived there, it would be actually three men with whom she was going to be sharing a house.
Karlijna rose, “I am sorry to do this to you, Mr. Sodergaard, but I am not certain my reputation should have to suffer for my job.”
Mr. Sodergaard was not offended by this comment. In fact, he understood it completely. Young ladies’ character had been ruined for far less.
“Is there no other way?” the girl could not help but ask.
Mr. Sodergaard wondered if he could simply tell Mr. Beauchamp what her hours would be and then walk the girl home every night. It was possible, but not likely. Armand Beauchamp did as he pleased and there was little that could sway him. If he weren’t such a large contributor to the partnership, his idiosyncrasies would not be tolerated.
“If only you had a wife or sister living with you,” Karlijna spoke almost to herself as she mumbled the words.
“That’s it,” Mr. Sodergaard jumped up and put a hand on her shoulder,” Don’t worry, Karlijna,” he hurried behind his desk and picked up the phone.
Karlijna didn’t bother to listen to his conversation. Either it would work out or it wouldn’t. She sat back down and started her work.
“It’s all set,” Mr. Sodergaard spoke up half an hour later, “My sister will come and stay here.”
“Your sister?” Karlijna had never heard him mention her before.
“Yes,” he leaned back in his chair and smiled at her, “I wonder that I didn’t think of it myself. Helga is the perfect choice. She even goes to your church.”
&nb
sp; “My church?”
“Yes,” the man rose and crossed to the door, “she’s gone there for years,” he leaned out and called to the butler before turning back to his employee, “Take the afternoon off and be here tomorrow by ten o’clock. Actually, I’ll have Olaf pick you up since you will have to bring some personal items.”
Karlijna looked down at the task she had been working on, “But I’m not finished. . .”
“That’s fine,” he turned to Olaf, “My sister is coming to stay for a few days. Miss Bergstrom will be with her. Please prepare both guest rooms. One for them and one for Armand Beauchamp.”
Karlijna didn’t rush back to Leif’s store. She was feeling overwhelmed by what had just happened. Slowly, she wandered through the village, taking in sights she had not seen or noticed before.
“Miss Bergstrom,” a voice came from behind. She turned to see Michael Gunderson coming from a shop. Behind him was Torkel Anderson.
“Hello, Mr. Gunderson, Torkel,” she greeted them warmly.
“What are you doing out at this time of the day?” Torkel kept walking as he took her elbow, “Don’t tell me Roald has you out running errands.”
“No,” she laughed a little at the thought of Mr. Sodergaard doing such a thing, “No, he gave me the day off because I will have to work extended hours for the next week.”
“Why is that?” Mr. Gunderson wanted to know.
Karlijna glanced up at that man, “He needs me at the house more because he has a French associate coming in.”
Karlijna was not watching the young man or she would have noticed his look of confusion. Torkel observed his nephew’s face.
“Karlijna works as an interpreter.”
“Oh?” he turned to the girl, “From French into Swedish?”
“Yes. And the other way around too,” she laughed, “And for practice I do the English papers as well, but Mr. Sodergaard always checks them. My English is not good.”
Mr. Gunderson laughed with her, “Your English is the same good as my Swedish.”
They were approaching the store when Torkel joined in, “I think English is a hard language. So many meanings for each word.”
“It is easy to me,” Mr. Gunderson laughed at his own joke.
“It is nice to see you again, Mr. Gunderson,” Karlijna turned to him before she entered her small room, “I hope you enjoy your visit.”
“I hope I will see more of you.”
He was very gracious to say so, but Karlijna did not believe it meant he had any particular desire to see her. He had come to see his family.
Karlijna nodded, “I am sure you will, Mr. Gunderson.”
“Then,” he added with a cheeky grin, “will you please call me Michael?”
Noticing, not for the first time, how attractive the young man was, the girl only smiled and nodded before entering her room.
Karlijna expected the entire family to turn out for Michael again, but it was not to be. He explained to her that he would be making the rounds instead. The first night he would be dining with Leif’s family.
Karlijna had no romantic illusions about the man, but she did not mind the opportunity to get to know him better. As she had little experience with people her own age – men or women – he was a fascination to her. Their conversation was often stilted because of the language differences, but they were beginning to communicate more easily. She would have been pleased to know his opinion of her was the same as the tenderness he held for his cousins.
Throughout the evening, she discovered he was actually in the Air Force. He had been stationed in Britain, but was occasionally sent to Sweden. Though he was not at liberty to discuss why he was there, he was able to visit family while in the area.
Karlijna and Michael found themselves alone for a short while in the course of the evening.
“Do you prefer English or Swedish?” he graciously asked.
Her eyes rounded and she made a funny face, “Are you willing to listen to me speak your language so poorly?”
The young man shook his head in mock sorrow, “It would be a tragedy.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but my Swedish is not much better. I have only been learning it since April.”
“You learn quickly,” the man seemed amazed. “My mother has been trying to teach me Swedish all my life. Let’s speak English. Maybe I can help you a little.”
Karlijna doubted the short conversation would much improve her skills, but she agreed nonetheless.
“Why are you decided to join the Air Force?” the girl asked, “Or is it forced of young men?”
“No,” he shook his head, “It isn’t required of all our men, though we do have a draft.”
He had to stop and explain that word to her before Karlijna could ask any more questions.
“If the war is end, do you go home or stay in job?”
“I joined for a longer time. I hope the war ends long before my enlistment is over.”
“What is your. . .” Karlijna searched for the right word, “You know,” she lowered her brow and leaned toward him, “the spot in the military?”
Michael looked more confused than she, “Where I’m stationed?”
She didn’t think that was what she meant, “Perhaps that is the word.”
“I’m in London most of the time.”
“No,” she waved her hands in a negative motion and laughed, “Not that. Are you low man or high man?”
“Oh,” he threw back his head and laughed as well, “my rank.”
“Yes,” she beamed at him, “your rank.”
“I’m a Lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant?” she repeated the word. “Is just like French word.”
“Is it?”
She nodded, “And do you fly the planes?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that hard,” then realizing that might sound like an insult, she hurried on, “Doesn’t it take many years to learn that?”
“I took flying lessons before the United States joined the war. So I could be a crop duster.”
Karlijna wondered if this helped him get a better position, but didn’t think she should ask.
He spoke up first anyway, “Did you have longer hair when I met you?”
The girl touched the golden tresses that curled around her face, “No. It was shorter, actually.”
Michael gave a little chuckle and scratched his cheek, “That’s funny. My sisters are always telling me I don’t notice their new hairdos, that I never pay attention to those things. I guess it’s true.”
Karlijna didn’t want to explain that she had been wearing her scarf before, so she grasped at the first question she thought of, “How many sisters do you have?”
“Two,” he didn’t seem surprised by the change in topic, “both younger.”
“Any brothers?” she asked, now interested in the subject.
“Nope. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
Instantly, two faces flashed through her mind, Bernard and Veronike. A jumble of pictures raced one after another. Images of the three playing together, of Bernard helping her with piano lessons, of Veronike’s face as she was pulled from their mother and thrown roughly on a truck.
“Karlijna?” Leif’s voice called her back to the present.
The girl snapped out of her reverie, “I’m sorry, Leif,” she answered in English without thinking before turning to the younger man, “I ask your pardon. My thoughts left my mind.”
Michael was astute enough to realize her discomfort, “That is fine, Miss Bergstrom,” he spoke again in Swedish, “I understand.”
CHAPTER NINE
Karlijna did not stay long following supper. She retired as early as was polite. Claiming the excuse of a busy tomorrow, she sought solitude to pray.
“Father,” she lay in bed and whispered through her tears, “I do not know why you have chosen me to live when all my family is gone to be with you. I am still so angry at times with you for allowing this to happen. Please give me pea
ce about this state in which I am, and help me to be content and find my joy in you.”
Despite the young girl’s faith, her tender heart could not but grieve for all she had lost. She could pray no more since sobs swept over her frame. She lay weeping for many hours, nearly choking on her tears at times. In the early hours of the morning, her body too tired to hold out, the child gave in to sleep.
She would not have allowed for her grief to so overtake her had she realized the guest bedroom shared a wall with her own. The young man residing there had heard her cries in the night and stayed awake to pray for her as he had never prayed for another human before. Nonetheless, he was waiting in the store when she arose in the morning.
“Miss Bergstrom,” he greeted her in English as she emerged from her quarters, “how are you this morning?”
In truth, that lady had a headache, but she pulled her lips into a semblance of a smile and gave a little shrug, “I am a little wrong, I think,” she laughed softly, “I voke after . . .later than usual. Perhaps that is the reason.”
Karlijna hoped her explanation was acceptable to him. He looked concerned, and she would not have him worry over her.
He gently led her through the door into Ingrid’s kitchen, “You were not well last night, I think,” the apprehension was still displayed on his face.
Karlijna thought he was as kind a young man as she had ever met. He was obviously thinking she had gone home the evening before because of illness.
“I do not always keep my thoughts together,” she explained, “I’m afraid my brain was not vith the talking of everybody.”
Michael gave a little grin, “I could see that,” he admitted, “but I was concerned that my questions were what caused you pain.”
Karlijna sat down. She knew she could not hide the truth. He deserved clarification, at least on some level.
“No, Michael, you make a mistake. Your questions do not cause pain. The pain came from others. Sometimes, the sorrow comes back vhen I think of my family, but it is not your fault.”
Michael nodded as he took the seat across the table. She could see he wanted to ask more, but was holding back. That was just as well. It would not do to begin crying again when Olaf was to arrive in less than an hour.
“I am sorry I left in a sad mood. I cause you vorry for that.”
