Gifts of the Spirit

by Patricia Eilola

Mother fluttered around, cutting the loaf of fresh pulla she had made that morning, and getting a cup and saucer out of the Hoosier cupboard that graced the wall opposite the sink and work-table.

  “Of course, you’re welcome,” she said. “Everyone’s welcome at our house for sauna or just for a visit. Any time.” She put an emphasis on those last two words.

  “Good.” Reaching for the teaspoon, he added some sugar to the coffee, poured in a dollop of cream, and turned to me with a grin. “Do you want a ride to the dance?”

  I just stood there, flummoxed. He’d left in such high dudgeon the previous Sunday and here he was acting as if nothing had happened at all and we were just friends who drove to dances together. At first, I turned my back on him, and then the question came bouncing out of my mouth, “Do you believe in God?”

  “My Lord, where did that come from?”

  He had taken the name of God in vain. I should have been appalled, but suddenly I was overtaken by a fit of giggles.

  “It’s all I’ve been able to think about all week,” I confessed. “You see, I was confirmed in the Unitarian Church by Milma Lappala, and it occurred to me I had no idea what your religious leanings are. If you’re a member of the Finnish Lutheran Church, we’ll never be able to get along.” The words had been less spoken than spilled out.

  “Don’t get your pants in a bundle,” was his irreverent answer. “What difference does it make when it comes right down to it? For your edification (he bowed to me when he used that big word), I’m not a member of the ‘Finnish Lutheran Church,’ nor do I believe in either Hell or Heaven, for that matter. I guess, to tell you the truth, I’ve never thought much about it. I’ve been too busy just living to worry about going to church or believing in anything. But now that you’ve asked me,” he paused for a long time, “and now that I’m thinking about it, I guess I have to say I think the way a man lives is as important as what he believes. If he lives a good life—doesn’t break the law or hurt anyone else—then he’s okay in my book.”

  I was to learn that, once he got going on a subject, it was sometimes hard to turn him off.

  “I don’t think it matters much whether a man goes to church or not. If he’s honest, kind, truthful, and honorable in his dealings with others. If he appreciates things that are beautiful—like the sunrise on a summer morning or a sunset after a cold winter day, or a flower like the lilacs that your mother had growing on either side of your entry, or a doe standing still in the woods with a fawn jumping and running around her, or a… girl… like you, then he’s on the right track. So that kind of sums it up,” he said.

  I sat stunned, bewildered, and filled with wonder. He had actually used some of the words from my Confirmation certificate!

  “Do you really believe… all those things you said?” I asked.

  “Of course, why else would I say them?” was his simple answer.

  Mother looked at me, and I looked at her, and Arvo looked at both of us asking, “What was that? Some kind of a test or something? If it was, I’m leaving,” and he made as if to stand up and go.

  “No, no, no!” I wailed after him. “I had just been… thinking… and worrying… all week… about that.” I quit lamely.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled then, or isn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course it is! I just was so… happy to… hear you… put it into words!” I exclaimed again, aware I had been doing a lot of exclaiming since I had met him. “And, yes, I do want a ride to the dance. If you can wait while I take a sauna.”

  “Take all the time you need,” he settled back to drink his coffee and enjoy his pulla. “Your Mother and I will have time to have a little talk.”

  I left in a hurry, not wanting to hear a word of that “little talk.”

  Mother filled me in the next morning. “He is very serious about marrying you as soon as possible.”

  I finally understood. Last night we had stopped at the top of Ticklebelly Hill on the way home again, and things had gone much farther this time than I had expected or—at first—had wanted. By the time he had finished kissing me thoroughly, not just on my lips but on my nose and forehead and cheeks and down my throat and across the opening of my dress, I had not wanted him to stop. When his hand brushed my breast, my breath caught, and it was as if, wherever he touched, I were on fire with yearning for more touches. His hand had slipped up under my dress, touching the back of my knee, my thigh, the inside of my thigh, and I had not flinched or tried to stop him. In fact, I had wanted more… more of the sensations I was feeling in the pit of my stomach and down below… where his hand was moving up, stroking, soothing, as his lips moved down to my breast which somehow had come out of my blouse and up from the shift I had underneath. I had not been aware of his opening the buttons on my blouse or of his pushing the blouse and the shift down over my shoulder so his lips could have free rein. And, oh, how I wanted him! I could feel his hand moving around, touching me in my most private parts, stroking, soothing, until my panties were wet and I was sick with yearning.

  Then, suddenly, he stopped. Short. Just stopped. Left me sitting there all undone, opened the door, got out of the car, and stood outside lighting a cigarette and smoking it.

  Shaking with… unfulfilled pleasure… and yearning, I drew back, pulled my skirt down, rebuttoned my blouse and made sure it and my shift were in place. Then I just sat there, lost.

  “Now do you understand?” His voice had become low and tense, completely unlike its usual jovial happy sound. “Now do you know why we have to get married right away? I can’t promise I can stop myself… like I did tonight… every time. It’s just… too hard.”

  And he gave a quick laugh at the pun, which I now understood. I had unbuttoned his trousers in my desire, and held his… thing… (I wasn’t sure what to call it!). It had been at once soft and so hard, and I had leaned over him, wanting that in the place where his fingers were, using my fingers to unconsciously add to his enjoyment, moving them up and down.

  We had come so close, so very close to… having what Aini called “intercourse’” and most men just called “sex.” And I had been no help at all with forestalling the whole business. In fact, I had encouraged him, helped him, and moved with him, completely in tune with his desire.

  Now I understood what he had meant, and I was frightened—terrified by how close we had come to acting in a way that was as wrong as any wrong could be—and that could have led to a child, to the making of a baby! Oh, God, I moaned.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked him when he got back into the auto, moved the levers so we moved forward, and sat back in his seat without looking at me.

  “I told you.” His answer was calm and clear. “We have to get married as soon as possible.”

  “Yes,” I capitulated, aware now of the danger.

  We were quiet until we got into the yard. Then he reached over and kissed me hard. “You are the only really ‘good’ girl I’ve ever been with. So I don’t want you to blame yourself in any way for what happened tonight. Or what almost happened,” he amended. “There’s just something between us. I’ve never felt it before… not with any of the girls I’ve… seen and dated. You’re special,” his words pushed me back into my seat when I had just begun to get out. “You’re so very very special that there aren’t words to tell you how special you are or how much I love… and respect you.”

  “Respect? After all of that?” I doubted the truth of what he was saying. Was I “loose”? Was I was what the boys called “easy”?

  “Yes.” He leaned over to kiss me again. “Yes, especially after that. You’re a passionate woman, and I’m a passionate man. We were made for each other!” he said, laughing.

  And then he got very serious again, “Don’t go to bed and forget what almost happened. Give yourself credit for being… what every woman should be… what every man wants in the woman he
marries… a loving, passionate woman. I love you!”

  The words followed me as I got out of the car and walked toward the front door, afraid Mother would see through me and know in an instant what I—we—had just done.

  “Almost.” I added, so thankful Arvo had had the presence of mind… and the experience… to stop.

  But Mother didn’t suspect a thing. She had gone to bed after doing the dishes used by the sauna company, and the kitchen was dark. I had time to sit down and think.

  “Is that you, Maria?” Mother’s voice asked the question from the upstairs bedroom.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes…” I hesitated with the answer, “I had a… most… enjoyable evening.”

  “Good. Will you be seeing Arvo again?”

  “Yes,” was all I could say.

  “Well, come to bed, then.”

  “I will… in just a minute.” It took me more than a minute to gather myself together, to think about what had almost just happened and to make some vows—about Arvo and our relationship and about myself.

  The next morning Arvo appeared just as we were sitting down to breakfast. Mother and I had both overslept, and Ronny and Eino had already finished the milking and had been sitting at the table ready and waiting. Mother had hurried to get a pan of kropsua into the oven, and I had just finished cleaning the separator when we heard the “chug, chug, chug” of the motor.

  “So we’re to have a visitor again,” Mother commented.

  Ronny asked, “What’s going on? The guy comes two Sundays in a row, and he was here already last night for sauna. And he drove Maria to the dance… and home.” He looked at me with a leer. “Something’s brewing here!”

  Eino, in all his innocence, asked, “What do you mean ‘what’s going on’? Isn’t it evident Maria has a beau?”

  I said, “He’s just a friend,” while Mother whipped the used tablecloth off the table and before the motor had turned off had replaced it with another—this one had red flowers intertwined with vines and a small picket fence. Then she had hurriedly set the table with the blue willowware dishes and spanked Ronny with the corner of her dish-towel. “Don’t you say a word,” she warned him.

  “Aw, Ma,” he began, but she stopped him with a look. “Okay. Okay. So we’re going to get out the best dishes for a guy who’s ‘just a friend.’”

  Mother had taken out the ham we were to have for dinner and was busy slicing off a piece to serve with the kropsua, and she had started a second batch.

  “What’s going on?” Ronny asked, honestly bewildered by the rush of activity.

  “Nothing. We’re just going to have a little fancier breakfast this morning. Because it’s Sunday,” Mother said.

  “But…” was all Ronny got out of his mouth before in walked Arvo, still dressed in his dress pants and shirt and tie. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all, and he looked devastatingly handsome at the same time—his hair all “floofled” and his tie askew.

  “Good morning,” he said, rather sheepishly. “I know it’s early, but I thought I’d…”

  “Join us for breakfast, and it’s a good thing you did,” Mother said. “We were waiting for you.”

  “We were?” asked Eino, while Ronny just looked on, dumfounded.

  “Yes, we were.” Mother left no doubt about the whole situation. “Sit yourself down. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

  I reached over and gave him a little good morning kiss.

  Ronny stared. Eino laughed. “What’s really going on?” he insisted.

  “Well, I think your sister and her gentleman friend here,” Mother indicated, “have come to a decision. Am I right?”

  “Yes, Mother,” we both answered—in unison. “We have agreed we want to get married,” Arvo said, and I nodded.

  “Oh, my,” Mother said. Ronny stood up, reached out his hand to Arvo, and shook it hard, and Eino got up to run over to me for a hug. “I guess this does call for a celebration!”

  “Can I tell Aini?” Eino asked.

  “Yes! We can tell the whole world!” I exclaimed.

  “When is it going to happen?” he asked.

  “How about today?” was Arvo’s answer.

  I looked askance at him. “But that’s impossible. We don’t have a church. I don’t have a dress. We don’t have flowers! You don’t even have a ring!”

  “Yes, I do. It’s not much of one, I know, but someday I’ll buy you one that has diamonds in the center. I promise.”

  And with that he got down on one knee, took hold of my hand, and asked, “Maria Jackson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yes!”

  He picked me up and whirled me around the kitchen. “Now we need to get ready for a wedding this afternoon!”

  “Right now?” I asked, stupefied.

  “Right now. As I understand it, your brother-in-law Karl Luoma is a justice-of-the-peace. He could marry us this afternoon right here in the living room of your house.”

  “Someone will have to let Aini know.”

  “I’ll do that,” Arvo said. “I can drive right over there, pick them up, and bring them here. Your sister and Ronny can act as witnesses.”

  “And I even have a flower!” I raced upstairs, opened my ‘hope chest’ and dug out one of the flowers we had made for our eighth-grade graduation. It was made out of pink construction paper with green leaves.

  Mother got into the spirit of the whole irrational, exciting idea. “I’ll make a white cake,” she said, “and we can make sardine sandwiches. It’ll be a real party!”

  And so it was. Before we could say “Jack Robinson,” Arvo had gone to the Luoma farm, seen Aini, little Ernie, and Karl, told them about our plan, given them time to get into their best clothes, and was back with the three of them in tow, and Karl looking very proud. This would be the very first wedding he had ever performed, and he took the whole thing very seriously, even searching the Bible for appropriate verses. I knew right away which I wanted read: “First Corinthians—the verses about love,” I told him.

  Ronny re-warmed the sauna so we could all be fresh and clean for the afternoon. Mother indeed managed to make a beautiful white cake, and Aini helped with the sandwiches.

  The living room had been thoroughly cleaned on Friday when we did every room in the house so it just needed a “pick me up.” Mother changed the tablecloth again, settling this time on a white one with a pink crocheted edging and cutwork all outlined in pink.

  After sauna, where I washed my hair again, and managed to get it into waves, I dressed in the nicest of the outfits Milma had brought me—a one-piece pink dress with short sleeves, buttons down the front on top, and a kind of swing skirt. Aini had already gotten into her best dress and even dressed little Ernie up in a sailor suit Karl had ordered especially for him from the spring Sears & Roebuck catalog.

  I had silk stockings and matching shoes, all pink to match the dress, and the pink flower looked perfect, I thought.

  Ronny got the living room ready by setting the kitchen chairs in two separate rows—one side for him and Eino, the for Aini and little Ernie, who had just learned to sit up. We didn’t have any music, and there was no one to walk me down the “aisle,” but by three o’clock that afternoon, Arvo and I were standing in front of Karl, whose face had turned a bright red. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention. A quick kiss from Aini toned him down a shade, and he began with the reading from First Corinthians. “Love is…’”

  I looked up at Arvo, and he looked down at me, and suddenly it was as if there were no other people there, just the two of us, professing our vows to each other. We had discussed them briefly, and Arvo had agreed to replace “obey” with “respect.”

  “Do
you, Arvo Matthew Mattson, take this woman, Maria Seraphina Jackson, for your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love her and care for her and honor her for all the days of your life?”

  “I do,” he said solemnly, looking down at me and squeezing my hand.

  “Do you, Maria Seraphina Jackson, take this man, Arvo Mattson, for your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love him and honor him for the rest of your life?”

  “I do,” I answered, equally solemnly, squeezing his in return.

  “Then by virtue of the power vested in me as Justice of the Peace for the County of St. Louis, I now pronounce you husband and wife. And what man has joined together let no man separate. Forever and ever.” He added on his own.

  It had turned out to be a beautiful wedding.

  “But we have never talked about where we’re going to live!” I said, in desperation, once the ceremony was over.

  “Well,” Mother said, “I’d love to have you live with me—with us—she indicated Ronny and Eino. You can have the first bedroom, the boys can stay in the back one, and I’ll camp out in the living room on the daybed. We can work it all out!”

  Arvo looked as if he were going to burst into tears. He put his arms around Mother, kissed her on the cheek, and thanked her “from the bottom of my heart” were his words.

  He confided to me afterward he had never had a Mother like mine and we were truly blessed to have her. I agreed with a full heart.

  That night, however, we were not to spend in the bedroom upstairs. After we had eaten dinner and well before it was really time for bed, with Mother’s permission, Arvo had gathered together some blankets and quilts, found a length of clothesline, packed some sandwiches out of the ham we had had for dinner, filled two jugs—one of coffee and one of water—and said, “We’re going to spend our wedding night under the sky with only the moon and the stars to keep us company.”

  Mother nodded. Ronny and Eino looked at each other a little sheepishly, and we set off across the fields before dark, heading for the trees that lined the field Father had cleared when he was a Good Man. Once we made it there, Arvo strung the clothesline between two trees, used clothes pins to attach the blankets to it and pulled them out on the sides where he put pieces of wood to hold them down. He then put the quilts down inside our tent, leaned over and told me, “Your bedroom awaits.”