“Isn’t there something you’d like me to bring you from town?” Kotka asked Eidi.
She hesitated.
“You name it! I’ll be back sooner or later, you know. And if you’ve left by the time I get back, I’ll ride out to Crow Cove. I’ve always wanted to have a look at that place.”
“Well, if you could buy five mother-of-pearl buttons for the little jacket. No, just four, because I have one already. You can take it with you so you can get them to match.”
She ran up to the attic and brought it down to him. He put it in his jacket pocket and pulled his knitted cap down over his white, unruly hair.
“And—” she began, and then stopped.
“Yes?”
“A horse.”
“A horse?”
“Yes. Tink and I have such a lot of money, so I thought maybe we should buy a horse. Then we’d have something to ride to Crow Cove on. And we need a horse at home, too. The one Doup has is only big enough to carry him.”
“Yes! Let’s buy a horse!” Tink shouted happily.
Rossan thought it was a good idea, too. “Mind you, take your mother along when you buy it,” he told Kotka. “Nobody can pull the wool over her eyes.”
Kotka promised. Eidi gave him the money, and he started off.
One sunny day Eidi spun the last skein of wool. She rose from the spinning wheel, put it back into its corner, and went to wash the wool oil off her fingers. She would be paid for her work after Rossan had sold the yarn.
Then she sat down at the table and looked at the tiny jacket. It was finished now and lacked nothing but the five buttons. There was only a very small ball of yarn left, and with this she crocheted scallops around all the edges. Then she sewed in the yarn ends and folded it away.
The door stood open out to the farmyard. The low afternoon sun slanted in to her. She got up and went outside.
The air was crisp and clear and full of the wing-beats and voices of birds of passage coming home. Far away the sea lay sparkling blue in the sunlight. Feathery clouds floated across the sky.
Eidi drew a deep breath, stretched her arms over her head, and spread her fingers wide. A tingling ran all through her body. She felt so light, now that all the wool lay in neat skeins of yarn up in the attic. She had done the work she set out to do. Now she could do whatever she liked.
She went out behind the house and along the track that led toward Eastern Harbor. She picked some of the first downy pussy willows growing there. Then she heard a new sound, and far off she saw Kotka come riding along the track.
His flaxen-white hair shone in the sunlight, and she saw him lift his arm to wave as soon as he caught sight of her. He was riding Lesna’s horse and leading a roan mare with a glossy black mane and tail.
The dogs had heard them and came running, leaping, and wagging all over. When they got to the house, Rossan was standing in the doorway, and Tink stuck his head out of the stable. When he saw the horse, he rushed into the yard.
“Is that one ours?” he shouted happily, running to catch hold of the bridle.
Kotka had brought much more. First he handed down the big haversack, which he put into Rossan’s hands with many greetings from Lesna. He was to remember to say that she liked the shawl very much. He had a silver coin for Eidi from Lesna, because the gold coin was more than she was owed, his mother had said.
For Rossan he had bought tea and tobacco, as he had been asked to do, and a lot of different seeds that Rossan wanted Foula to have.
For Eidi, Kotka had bought five mother-of-pearl buttons, because he couldn’t find any others that matched the one she had sent with him. He fished all six buttons out of his jacket pocket and handed them to her. The new ones he had found glimmered in soft shades of gray. At first Eidi was disappointed, but when she tried them against the jacket, she found that they suited it perfectly.
For Tink there was a paper twist full of raisins from Bandon’s shop. Before Kotka had left, they had all agreed that it need not be a secret any longer that Eidi and Tink were staying with Rossan. Kotka had told no one but his mother. But Bandon was sure to know by now, because he and Lesna had begun to keep company pretty regularly.
“But now he’ll come after us,” Tink gasped, dropping a raisin that he was about to put in his mouth.
Eidi picked up the raisin. “No, he won’t,” she said, and handed it back to him.
But that night she dreamed about Bandon for the first time in a long while:
She was sitting on the big, flat rock off the shore by Crow Cove when he rose up out of the sea in front of her. He was wearing his fur-trimmed winter coat. It was quite dry.
He came toward her, holding out a big mussel shell full of mother-of-pearl buttons. She felt a sudden fear that he was trying to fool her in some way.
Her fear woke her, and she found herself again in bed in Rossan’s attic. She lay listening to Tink’s easy breathing, with a strange feeling that she had been fooling herself.
17
Eidi helped Tink down off the mare. She had decided they should stop and rest at the big gray stone that loomed by the side of the road, marking the turnoff of the track down to Crow Cove. They leaned their backs against the sun-warmed stone and unpacked their provisions.
“What if your mother doesn’t want me to live there?” mumbled Tink with his mouth full of smoked lamb.
“She will,” said Eidi, and cut another slice of bread for them both.
They ate on in silence.
“What if Bandon finds us?” asked Tink while Eidi was packing the provisions back in the haversack.
“He won’t,” she said. “Let’s be on our way now.” She didn’t want to talk about Bandon.
“How do you know?” Tink said angrily. “You don’t really know him at all. You don’t know him the way I do.”
She turned around and looked at him.
“Why shouldn’t he find us there?” he went on, exasperated. “Kotka told his mother, and she told Bandon, and sooner or later he’s going to come and take me back.”
Eidi bent down and dug the little bundle out of their baggage. “I’ll show you why he’s never going to come after you again. Look what he sent you.”
They sat down again against the stone.
“What is it?” he asked, his curiosity roused.
“Your mother came in a ship to the market, before you were born.” He nodded. He knew that. “She sold everything she had, and Bandon bought it all. He has kept it ever since. He gave it to Rossan, who gave it to me, so that I could pass it on to you. I had thought I’d wait and give it to you when we got to Crow Cove, but you’d better have it now. Anyway, you must see that Bandon wouldn’t send you a keepsake if he intended to chase after you and fetch you back.”
Tink stared at the bundle but didn’t touch it.
“Do you want me to unpack it?” she asked.
He nodded. Very gently she undid the folds of the fragile silk and showed him the silver hair clasp, the bone comb, the thimble and the ring, the needle case, and the ten mother-of-pearl buttons.
Tink picked up the things one after another and looked at them. At last he picked up the buttons and spread them out on his palm. Then he closed his hand on them and held it out to Eidi.
“Here. I want you to have these.”
She shook her head. “No, they’re yours.”
“Yes, they are, so I can do what I like with them. Here!”
He held out his closed hand once more, and again she shook her head.
“Why can’t I give you a gift?” His voice was shrill and his eyes were moist.
She reached out her hand and took them. “Thank you very much,” she said, and put them in her pouch.
The brook spread a silver-gray fan over the stony seashore. The three houses shone like little white building blocks against the gray-green grass. High over their heads, a hovering eagle greeted them with a scream.
“That’s Crow Cove,” said Eidi.
Tink stood silent for a mome
nt; then he said, “I would like to live here.”
They began the descent from the ridge. The path was narrow and steep, and they had to lead the mare. Eidi could feel her legs shaking a little. They had been traveling for many hours since they had rested by the big rock. Their feet were wet and cold from walking on the damp earth in the hollows.
The sun was low on the horizon and shone right in their faces, so it was hard to see where they were going. Tink stumbled, and Eidi caught him. When they had gotten down the steepest part, she helped him up on the horse again.
She was walking very slowly in order to relish every minute. There was the brook gurgling on its way, there was the big, flat rock, and there were the brown hens clucking about their own affairs. There was Myna’s house, and there was her own, on the other side of the brook. There was a woven basket standing on the bench in the shadow of the eaves, and there was Foula working in the kitchen garden.
Eidi quickened her pace. Then she heard a shout from across the cove.
“Here come two boys!”
It was Ravnar who had caught sight of them. Foula straightened up and wiped her hands on her apron. Then she came down to the bridge. Eidi let go of the mare, who went to the brook to drink with Tink still on her back.
Eidi and Foula stood on each side of the bridge. For a moment Foula was looking at a tall boy in a pair of work-worn trousers, with longish, curly hair. Then she saw it was Eidi.
They met in the middle of the bridge, and Eidi let herself be engulfed by a pair of strong arms and a soft bosom. Then Foula took a step back, held her at arms’ length, and took a good look at her.
“Can this really be you?” she asked her daughter.
Her eyes shone on Eidi. Then she embraced her again.
“And who’s that boy? And whose is the horse?”
“That’s Tink. He doesn’t have any father or mother. He would like to live here, if you’ll let him. And the horse is ours, and I have some gifts for you from Rossan.”
Then she took Foula’s hand, and they crossed the bridge together and went over to the mare. Eidi helped Tink down. He stood there stiffly with his eyes on the ground. But Foula squatted in front of him and looked into the shy gray-green eyes.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Eidi’s mother. Welcome to Crow Cove.”
Then she took his hand. “Come along with me, and I’ll show you where we live.”
And Tink went along with her.
Many things had changed. Frid had built a room for Eidi while she was away. The door to it was beside the stairs. The bed was in a sort of alcove with a sloping ceiling. This ceiling was the underside of the stairs, boarded over with planks. You could sit up at one end of the bed, but there was only room for your feet at the other end.
Frid had knocked out a little window in the outer wall, and from it she could see the crest of the hill, with the sea off to the left.
A chair stood beside the bed. There were three pegs on the paneled wall beside the door for her clothes. On the floor lay a brown goatskin rug, and there were curtains at the window. Looking more closely at them, Eidi recognized the light-brown material with the golden leaves that she had once long ago had a dress made of.
The room was not very big, but it was hers, and she thought it was the most beautiful room she had ever seen.
“Thank you,” she said to Frid, who was standing in the door. “Thank you very, very much.”
“Well, I just thought it was time you had your own room. Come and see what else I made.”
Tink and Eidi followed him up the stairs. He had made a real room in the loft for Ravnar, and he promised to build one for Tink in the opposite end gable. Until then, Tink and Ravnar would have to share.
Foula called them. Supper was ready. Cam was awake, and Foula had brought him in from the settle bed and set him in his basket by the hearth.
He no longer looked like a pale little frog but had grown into a real, chubby baby with dimpled cheeks and hair on his head. Eidi brought out the jacket she had knitted for him, and it just fit.
Ravnar came back with Myna and Doup. He brought them up from the shore, where they had been gathering driftwood.
Myna was wearing her hair up, just like Foula, and Eidi thought it made her look grown up. But the old dark-blue dress was the same, only more worn, and now it was too short at the wrists, and tight over the chest.
“Why Eidi, where’s your hair?” she said in her well-remembered, rather hoarse voice.
Eidi hugged her and said, “I cut it off.”
Doup had grown into a long-limbed boy, a bit too big for his trousers, but with the same fair hair and the same blue eyes. He was shy with Eidi at first, but when they had eaten he climbed onto her lap and made her sing all his favorite songs.
It was late in the evening before Eidi finished telling the whole story of her travels. Doup was sleeping on Myna’s lap, and Tink had fallen asleep in the old settle bed, so they decided not to disturb him but let him sleep there that night. Ravnar saw Myna and Doup home, and Frid carried Cam in his basket into the bedroom.
Foula was about to bank the fire with ashes so that the embers would last the night when Eidi offered to do it later. She wanted to sit in the living room by the fire for a while. So Foula kissed her good night and closed the door after her.
The fire crackled, a mouse rustled in a corner of the room, and it gradually came over Eidi that she was home.
18
“You’ll have to tell her.”
Frid’s voice came through the crack of the half-open door to the main room, together with a strip of light.
Eidi was standing in the dark passage with her hand on the door latch of her new room. She stayed there, stock-still.
“I was so young then,” said Foula, “and he was such a charmer. All the girls were after him, and I was so flattered when it was suddenly me he was courting.
“But he told me right at the offset that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t marry me. He didn’t want to marry anyone. So I never told him I was with child.”
Cam whimpered, and she hushed him with little, tender sounds.
“I remember the last time we were together. He wanted to give me a gold brooch that had been his mother’s. But I wouldn’t take it. Perhaps I should have taken it after all, so that Eidi would have something from her father’s family.”
Eidi lifted the latch quietly and closed the door after her. Then she threw herself on the bed and put her hands over her ears. But it was too late. She had heard it. And she had understood. Bandon was her father.
The rising sun turned the whitewashed walls rosy. The house was full of sounds: Cam prattling, Foula clattering with the pans in the kitchen, Doup’s little laugh, Frid’s and Ravnar’s voices as they wished each other good morning, Tink’s cautious steps coming down the stairs right over her bed.
Then there was a knock at the bedroom door, and Foula stepped in with a mug of piping hot tea. She gave it to Eidi and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I’m so glad to have you home,” she said after a while. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Who’s that tall lad with the curly hair? I thought. You’ve grown taller by half a head.”
Eidi laughed.
“I thought you were at Rossan’s all this time,” Foula went on in a more hesitant and serious tone. “But now that you’ve met Bandon, I think you ought to know—”
“That he’s my father.”
Foula looked at her without a word, taken aback. Then she asked, “How did you know?”
“I believe I dreamed it,” Eidi answered evasively.
Two deep furrows appeared between her mother’s brows. “Did he say anything?”
“No, he doesn’t know about it.”
“Oh,” she said, and the furrows gradually smoothed themselves out. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. And you may never see him again, come to that.”
She gave Eidi’s legs a quick pat and got up. “What do you say to getting dressed? Some little
boys are asking for you.”
Doup and Tink followed her like two puppies while Eidi made the rounds of Crow Cove.
She showed Tink the cow and the sheep grazing on the steep hillsides, the eagles circling high overhead, and the place where everyone dipped water from the brook.
Then they crossed the brook to visit Myna. She wasn’t at home when they came into the main room at the end of the house. But Eidi sat down anyway, together with the two boys, and looked around her.
The room looked just as she remembered and loved it: the honey-yellow, varnished furniture; the settles with the elaborate carved borders of birds and twining flowers along their backs; the wide bed covered with skins; the fireplace where a log was smoldering under a layer of ash.
The shotgun was not hanging in its place over the mantel, so Myna must have gone hunting.
They went back across the bridge and up by the kitchen garden. Foula was busy sowing all the seeds she had saved from last year, as well as the ones Rossan had sent her. Garden sorrel and horseradish from last year had already sprouted, the one with light-green leaves, the other with dark-green billowy ones, just inside the garden gate.
A little farther down toward the shore, Ravnar and Frid were cultivating a new patch for potatoes, because there was no more room in the old enclosure.
They had picked all the stones out of the ground and made a wall of them around the new patch, to keep the sheep out. Now they were bringing a big load of seaweed on Doup’s little brown horse, to enrich the soil.
“Why don’t you use Tink’s and my mare?” asked Eidi.
“That’s for Foula to decide,” answered Frid, lifting the baskets of seaweed off the little horse’s back. He went up to the opposite end of the field to empty them.
Foula was nursing Cam on the bench in front of the house. He was so big now that when he sat on her knee he could reach her breast.
“Ow,” Foula complained. “If you’re going to use your teeth, I’ll give you something else to chew on.”
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