by Lynn Austin
"So instead, we all had to move out?" Sofia asked. "That makes no sense at all."
"I give up, Sofia," Kirsten said. "Be miserable if you want to." They rode the rest of the way without speaking.
Their room in the boardinghouse smelled like stale perspiration. Kirsten tried to open the tiny window, but it refused to budge. The three of them stripped into their undergarments and, after carefully laying out their good clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle, Sofia and Kirsten climbed into bed. But Elfin was too upset to sleep. She turned off the gaslight and lit a candle.
"Do you mind if I write for awhile? I promise I won't be long."
"Just don't set the room on fire," Kirsten said before pulling the pillow over her head.
Elfin opened her diary and began to write.
We are in a rooming house in Gothenburg after a long, exhausting day of travel. Our spare, narrow room with its barren walls and narrow beds seems fitting. Everything that once warmed and cushioned my life has been stripped away, and I've packed what remains of it into our trunk. I feel as naked and shivery as one of Papa's sheep after it has been shorn. I tell myself that I am lighter this way, freer. I'll recover everything I've lost someday, won't I? I'll have a home and a family again. Perhaps everything will take a different form, the way a lamb's shorn wool returns as a pair of mittens or a scarf or a warm winter sweater, but I am determined never to feel so naked and lost again.
Tomorrow we sail across the North Sea to a city called Hull, in England. Then we'll board another train and cross the English countryside to Liverpool. From there we'll board a steamship for the two-week voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to New York in America. But our journey won't end there. We must board yet another train and travel to Uncle Lars' home in Chicago. I remember meeting him once, when I was a very small girl, and he was leaving our village to make his fortune in America.
She paused, wondering what else to add. Kirsten was already asleep, but Sofia was only pretending. She had buried her face in the limp gray pillow to muffle the sound, but Elfin knew that she was crying. Elfin wanted to crawl beneath the covers and weep, too, but she needed to remain strong for her sisters' sakes. She drew a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to release her fear along with it.
Even though Sofia and Kirsten are with me, I feel lost and alone. If I'd had any other choice besides this long, inconceivable journey to a faraway land, I would have gladly taken it. But before Mama died she begged me to watch over my sisters, and the only way that was left to me, the only way that I knew how to do that, was to leave home and take them to America.
In some ways I feel like I've let her down, but I simply didn't know what else to do and I had to make a decision. I hope I've made the right one.
Elfin closed her eyes. She wished she could pray the way Mama used to, but a deep pit stood between her and God, filled with guilt and regret. He knew all of the terrible things she had done. Anger filled the pit, as well. Why hadn't God protected her from Uncle Sven? Instead, Elfin had been forced to find her own way to escape. If she hadn't written to Uncle Lars and begged him to let them come to America, they never would have been rescued. She was the one who'd had to figure out how to start a new life for her and her sisters. And now she would have to figure out how to find the courage to do it. She bent over her diary again.
I wish I wasn't the oldest sister. I wish someone would take care of me instead of being forced to take care of everyone else. If only I didn't have to make all of the decisions and take the first steps and be daring and brave and resourceful. I understand how Sofia feels, because I long to get back on the train tomorrow and go home, too-home to the way everything was five years ago. All I want to do is sit in our stuga and knit socks in front of the fire and listen to Mama reading aloud from her little Bible as the aroma of baking bread fills the room.
But that life is gone. I am the oldest sister. Sofia and Kirsten are depending on me. We can't turn back. Besides, I'm running away for my own safety as much as for theirs. I have no idea what we'll find at the end of our journey, but it can't possibly be any worse than what I left behind-can it?
She wiped a tear that had splashed onto her diary page, then closed the book and snuffed out the candle. She hoped that the bedcovers were warm, because she was so very cold. She couldn't seem to stop shaking.
A CRASH OF THUNDER startled Kirsten awake. She sat up in bed, gazing around the unfamiliar room, unsure where she was. Then a flash of lightning illuminated the whitewashed walls and she remembered arriving at the boardinghouse last night after the long train trip to Gothenburg. She and her sisters had followed the sour-faced proprietor up the stairs to this barren room at the top.
Thunder rumbled like a steam locomotive in the distance. More lightning flashed. Kirsten remembered saying good-bye to Tor yesterday, seeing him for the very last time, and the pain she felt was as though someone had carved him out of her heart with a filet knife. She had hoped that the ache in her chest would fade as she traveled farther from home, but this morning the pain felt worse than it had yesterday. Tor had looked away as she'd told him good-bye, not at her.
Another flash of lightning, another peal of thunder, farther away this time. Kirsten wished that a bolt would strike her and end her misery. She climbed out of bed and parted the heavy curtains. Dawn had come, but the storm that had blown in from the sea obscured it. The tempest lashed the windowpanes with wind and rain and raised huge white waves in the harbor beyond.
"Is it morning?" Elin asked, her voice muffled beneath the bedcovers.
"Ja. But I don't think our ferry is going to leave today. You should see it outside!"
Kirsten had longed for adventure while growing up, envying her Viking ancestors who had bravely set sail to explore new lands. But even Erik the Red would have stayed in port on a day like today.
"Is it raining?" Elfin asked.
"It's pouring! And you should see how huge the waves are!"
Heavy footsteps clumped up the stairs outside their room. A loud knock rattled their door. "The ferry leaves in one hour, ladies."
"Thank you. We're awake," Elin called back. She reached over to the other bed to rouse Sofia. "Did you hear that? Come on, Sofia. You need to get up and get dressed."
Sofia responded with a moan.
A gust of wind whipped against the wooden building, whistling its way into every crack and rattling the window glass. Kirsten could feel the room shaking.
"Listen to that wind! I don't even want to go outside in such weather, much less get into a boat."
"Well, we have to do what the tour people say. Uncle Lars sent instructions-"
"So what? Why does everyone else get to make decisions for me? When will I get to decide for myself?"
Elfin stood with her hands on her hips, wearing that bossy look that Kirsten hated. "No one ever gets to do whatever they want all the time. Not even adults."
"Well, that stinks like dead fish!"
They got dressed, gathered their belongings, and ate a quick breakfast of bread and herring in the boardinghouse dining room downstairs. Kirsten wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and opened the door, bracing herself against the wind. Elfin grabbed Sofia's hand and pulled her through the door, following the other passengers into the storm.
"Our boat is going to sink!" Sofia shouted above the wind.
"We'll be fine," Elfin insisted. "Sailors and sea captains know all about the weather and how to navigate the seas. They wouldn't set sail if it wasn't perfectly safe."
"That's a bunch of nonsense," Kirsten said. "Ships sink all the time!"
The three of them linked arms, clinging to each other to keep from being blown away as they crossed the street from the rooming house and walked down the road to the dock. Ahead of them, seawater splashed across the pier and onto the walkway, reminding Kirsten of a cauldron of boiling water. Rows of wagons lined the harbor front, loaded with crates and barrels and trunks, all getting drenched in the cold, pelting rain. She wanted to sprint down th
e pier and board the ferry, but Elin stopped her.
"Wait here for me. I need to search for our trunk first and make sure it gets loaded. It contains everything we own. We can't lose sight of it again."
Kirsten huddled close to Sofia in the pouring rain while Elin consulted with the baggage porters. Ships of all shapes and sizes tossed and bobbed on the restless water until it made Kirsten sick to her stomach to watch them. The damp, fishy air was the foulest she'd ever smelled. Sofia pinched her nose closed.
The smell reminded Kirsten of the white-hot summer day when she had gone fishing with N ils and Tor in the lake where Papa had drowned. They had cleaned and gutted their catch afterward and tossed the remains on the compost pile, where they festered in the sun. Uncle Sven had been furious with them, swearing that the stench could reach all the way into town. Nils and Tor had laughed it off, imitating his tilting shoulders and crab-legged walk as soon as he'd turned his back to walk away.
The memory of Tor's laughter struck Kirsten like a kick in the stomach. She glanced around for Elin, who was still searching for the trunk, and spotted the overhanging roof of the baggage porter's shed nearby.
"Let's wait under there. We're getting soaked." She and Sofia hurried over to stand in the shelter of the ramshackle building. They were no longer getting drenched but still had to endure the brunt of the wind.
"Remember the stories we read in school about water nacks?" Kirsten asked as rain drummed on the eaves above them.
"No. What are nacks?"
"Come on, don't you remember? They're mysterious creatures who live in the sea and lure people to watery deaths in their kingdoms. They-"
"Stop it, Kirsten," Elfin said. She had joined them in time to hear what Kirsten was saying. "You're not helping matters."
"All I'm saying is that if there is such a thing as a water nack, then the one in Gothenburg's harbor seems very angry this morning. I think he's determined to drown us all."
"Stop it."
"When are you going to realize what a mistake this stupid trip was," Sofia asked, "and take us home?"
"See what you've done, Kirsten? You've scared her."
"Well, I'm scared, too, in case you can't tell. You'd have to be crazy to get into a boat on a day like today."
"I'm sure the sailors know what they're doing."
"Right ..." Kirsten mumbled under her breath, "but you sure don't."
The gangway onto the ship bobbed up and down, making it treacherous to board. Thrashing waves splattered Kirsten's skirt and soaked her shoes. The ship rocked from side to side and slammed against the dock as waves surged into the harbor. The motion made Kirsten feel dizzy as she tried to walk, as if she had a high fever. All three of them staggered and lurched across the deck like a village drunkard, hanging on to anything they could find along their path. Kirsten sank onto the first empty bench she came to. Sofia tumbled onto her lap.
"This ferry is going to sink before it ever leaves the harbor!" Sofia said.
Elfin gave her a reassuring pat. "I'm sure the captain will wait for better weather before venturing from port."
But he didn't. The horn shrieked, the hull groaned, and the engines thrummed to life. The ship sailed out of the harbor and straight into the storm.
Sofia vomited three times in one of the buckets the sailors passed around. She cried inconsolably.
"Please, Elfin, please. Can't we go home?" Of course the answer was no, but Elfin stopped saying it.
"You won't want to go back home once you see America," Kirsten told her. She was sorry that she had frightened Sofia by mentioning the water nacks and wanted to make amends. "It will be so wonderful there that we'll wish we had moved there sooner. Just look at all of these other travelers. I'm sure many of them will be continuing on to America, as we are. Do you think they would be going all the way to America if it wasn't a paradise?"
Sofia swiped at her tears. "What will it be like there?" she asked.
Kirsten didn't know how to describe a place she'd never seen, but the least she could do was make up tales to soothe her sister. "We'll all marry rich husbands and sit in the warm sunshine all day and eat strawberries and cream."
"Don't even talk about food!" Sofia begged. She hung her head over the bucket again.
Kirsten felt queasy at the mention of food, too. And she'd had an unexpected stab of pain the moment she'd mentioned husbands. She silently vowed never to give her heart away again after the way Tor had tossed it aside. Besides, Kirsten didn't think she could ever love anyone as much as she'd loved him.
"Take deep breaths," Elfin told Sofia as she went through the dry heaves. Elfin reminded Kirsten of their mother. Mama always used to tell them to take deep breaths whenever one of them felt sick. Kirsten missed her mother. She missed Papa and Nils, too, even though they both had abandoned them. Mama had had no choice whether she lived or died, but Papa and Nils had deliberately chosen to leave. They had rejected her as heartlessly as Tor had.
"Think of all the money we'll save on food if we're too sick to eat," Elfin said. "Our bread and cheese will last much longer this way."
Sofia gripped the bucket like a life preserver and moaned. "I'm going to die. If the boat to America bounces and rolls like this, I will surely die of seasickness-unless we drown first."
Elfin rubbed Sofia's back and smoothed her hair off her forehead. "Don't worry," she told her. "The ocean will be much calmer than the North Sea. Besides, we'll be sailing on a huge steamship, not a skimpy little boat like this one. The ocean liner will ride the waves much better. You'll see."
Kirsten caught Elin's eye above Sofia's bent head and mouthed the question, "Is that true?" Elfin gave a helpless shrug.
A few hours after they set sail, Kirsten was as sick as Sofia, vomiting her breakfast into a bucket. When the bout ended, she lay down across the row of scarred wooden seats like Sofia was doing. Kirsten hadn't slept very well last night. Or the night before, for that matter.
Most of the other passengers became sick, too, as the ferry rolled and swayed, tossed like a toy on the towering waves. Kirsten watched one of the sailors cleaning the deck with a mop and thought of Tor, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his father's store. He had stopped sweeping as if surprised to see her, but after she'd said good-bye and had turned to walk away, she'd heard the shushing sound of his broom behind her as he'd resumed his work. She drew her knees up to her chest to ease the ache inside.
She and Tor and Nils had been friends for as long as Kirsten could remember. Then Nils had run away to Stockholm, leaving her and Tor behind. She had missed her brother every bit as much as she'd missed her mother and father-and that's how she'd found herself wrapped in Tor's arms one afternoon, weeping for everyone she had lost. He had comforted her, murmuring softly in her ear. "I miss him, too, Kirsten."
The next thing she knew, Tor's lips had found hers and they were kissing. A host of powerful sensations had surged through Kirsten as if she'd walked through a forbidden door and discovered a new land. She hadn't wanted Tor to stop kissing her. Even now the memory made her feel warm inside. Kissing him had been like tasting chocolate for the first time and longing for more.
Had he only pretended to love her in return?
Kirsten rolled over on the unyielding bench and hid her face in her folded arms. How was it possible to hate someone and still love him at the same time?
Ubapler 6,tx
WHEN SOFIA AWOKE, she knew they had been sailing for many hours. Someone had dimmed the gaslights in the ship's salon and people lay sleeping all around her, sprawled across benches and slouched in their seats. Rain no longer drummed against the cabin roof and the sea seemed much calmer, which was a good thing. Sofia's stomach felt like a herd of cattle had trampled it, but she dared to believe that she might not die after all.
She sat up and looked out of a window. The view outside had changed from dense gray storm clouds and churning seas to a blackness so complete it was as if the ship had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, where no li
ght could reach it. The only thing visible in the darkened window frame was her own pale reflection.
Kirsten was asleep on the bench across from her, her knees drawn up to her chest. She had been sick all afternoon, too, and her cheeks, which usually glowed from the sun, looked milky white. Her lips were as colorless as a dead person's.
Elfin had fallen asleep sitting up, and her face wore a worried expression, even at rest. Sofia knew she had caused some of that worry by arguing with her. She had wanted to punish Elfin for ripping them away from their home, but now she was sorry, especially when she saw how pale and weary Elfin looked.
Sofia pulled her satchel closer, careful not to disturb Elin. She dug through it until she found her mother's Bible, wrapped in one of Mama's nicest aprons for protection. The Bible was small enough for Sofia to hold in one hand and had a black velvet cover framed in brass, with a brass clasp to hold it closed. The swirling print was old-fashioned and very tiny. Papa had given it to Mama as a wedding present.
Their mother had read aloud from her Bible every evening when she was alive, and it seemed as though thrilling words and promises had leaped off the pages like spawning fish, landing right in Sofia's heart. But when Sofia tried to read the Bible herself, the words never seemed to make any sense. She couldn't find any comforting promises, only big words and alarming warnings like every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.
Ever since Mama died, whenever Sofia had tried to pray in church or in her bed at night, her prayers seemed to fly around aimlessly like trapped pigeons beating their wings against the ceiling, unable to fly any higher. The only prayers that soared weightlessly toward heaven were the ones she murmured outside in the cemetery beside her mother's grave. Now, thanks to Elin, Sofia could no longer go there to pray.
The cabin gradually grew lighter as dawn approached. After sitting motionless for a very long time, Sofia made up her mind to close her eyes and open the little Bible at random and read whatever passage she pointed to first. She would not stop reading until she found words of comfort and assurance. She pried open the little book near the back, recalling that all of the stories about Jesus were near the end of the Bible. But when she opened her eyes, the alarming heading at the top of the page read Paul Suffers Shipwreck. She read the first sentence: When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days and the storm continued raging, we finally gave up all hope of being saved.
