It is still like that now, living along the lake.
May 20, 1912
Dearest Ásta,
Life here in the city can be lonely but it pleases me to say that I have discovered that Icelanders are quite well thought of here. I’ve been told that we are respected immigrants because we are quiet, polite, hardworking, appreciative, and seek knowledge. High praise indeed. We have professors at the University and doctors in the hospitals.
Remember how Father celebrated when T.H. Jónsson was elected as a member of the Legislative Assembly? He had supper with the Burroughs last week. Even the English know of Margrét Benedictsson and I hear in their tone how well-respected she is. I have no reservations about working here in the future.
Stanley is now like a brother to me. It is shocking that they have such a stately house with only one child. His mother is so fond of him she said: “After we created the perfect son we decided to end it there,” but I see sadness in her eyes, so there is more to it than that. She is a lovely woman and I am confident you will like her.
Stanley’s father (I shall refer to him as Kent from now on) fears Great Britain is on the verge of war. Russia is re-building its army making Germany nervous. Stanley’s mother believes if there is a war in Europe it will be large scale. Her brother is a Colonel in the British Army, so they are privy to more than they can say.
Father would enjoy these discussions so I am trying once again to persuade the Burroughs to come visit the farm. Hopefully our own war doesn’t break out as their views and Father’s differ greatly. It would be interesting to see which side your father and Magnús take. Their opinions mean a great deal to me.
The Burroughs invited me to join them at their cottage in Kenora, Ontario. The family will drive out in their motorcar the day after exams so I would be delayed by a week coming home. They say the fishing is tremendous and have friends they want me to meet. I would like to see Kenora, but am also anxious to see you.
Tell me what I should do—
Love, Finn
This time he’d written on the double-folded sheet a poem that described a love as wide as the sky and deep as the ocean.
My little nephew Petur ran to me and I lifted him up. He’d grown since the last time I’d seen him so I could barely lift him above my head.
“Where is Finn?” Signy asked, handing baby Oli to Freyja so she could cool her feet at the water pump. We were outside the kitchen door of the new hall built at Hayland the year before. The ball team was warming up and we all hoped Finn would arrive home that day.
“He promised he’d be home today,” I said. “He spent the week in Kenora with Stanley.”
“But he has not seen you since Christmas.” Signy tucked the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid behind an ear, resting her other hand on her bulging tummy. She was expecting her third child in November.
“He will be here soon,” I said.
Freyja shifted the squirming baby to her other arm. “Do you think you will have a girl this time?” she asked.
“I hope so.” Signy sighed.
“What time will they auction our lunches?” I asked, swiping the mosquitoes away from little Petur’s head. I quietly hoped that Finn would be there in time to bid on mine.
“Right after the game,” Signy said. “But it will serve him right if he is late.”
Petur started to squeal when he saw Amma, so I let him down and he ran to her. She picked him up, swung him overhead, then rested him on her hip. Holding up her thumb, she said: “Who is this?”
“Temmeltott,” he said.
“And this?” Amma said, extending her index finger.
“Sleikipott.”
“And?”
“Langimann.”
Amma finished the rhyme by holding up each remaining finger, “Ílibrann, og litli putti spilamann.”
We found a spot along the third baseline to watch the game. So much had changed in just a few years. The Siglunes team now wore uniforms, had two bats, and the number of players had doubled—so now it took more than owning a glove to earn a spot on the team.
“It’s Asta’s birthday,” Solrun sang as she came up behind us. She loved birthdays, likely because the re-telling of her birth during the storm had become one of Amma’s special stories.
There were murmurs and a few gasps from The Narrows fans when the game started and Stefan came up to bat. He’d sat out the previous years, practicing his batting at home. It was a calculated move on J.K.’s part to have Stefan lead off - and it worked. The Narrows pitcher looked rattled.
“Have an eye,” J.K. hollered out.
Stefan watched the first pitch go by then swung at the second, hitting a grounder to the short stop who was so surprised he fumbled the ball. We all stood up and cheered when the first baseman, seeing a one-armed locomotive barreling toward him, misjudged—the ball tipped off the end of his glove, rolling into the bushes as Stefan rounded first base to second.
I watched the game but saw little of it. I was jolted from my daydreams when our team jumped up from the bench, thrusting their arms in the air as they ran to the pitcher’s mound to congratulate Bjorn. J.K. was first in line to shake hands with The Narrows team with Stefan right behind him.
Asi stood at the front of the hall cupping his hands around his mouth, announcing it was time for the box lunch auction. He invited all the unmarried girls to line up on one side, the bachelors on the other.
I was too late to sneak the lunch I’d prepared off the table so I grabbed Leifur by the arm as he and Bjorn walked by.
“Bid on my lunch,” I whispered.
Leifur scowled. “I don’t want to eat with you.”
“Please—”
He cringed, shaking his head.
Asi began the auction by choosing the plainest pail, holding it up for all to see, asking for a bid. “Not fancy,” he said, “but I can tell by the weight of it, this girl knows how to feed a man.”
A tall, skinny ballplayer from The Narrows raised his hand.
“You sure you can eat all this?” Asi asked.
The boy shrugged.
“Do I have another bid?”
The player beside him raised his hand.
“Not getting enough to eat at The Narrows I see. Anyone else?”
The tall, skinny one raised a hand. Asi pointed to the second bidder who shook his head. “You will starve today if you didn’t bring more money than that.” Asi waited for the laughter to die down. “Sold!”
Olafur’s cousin, who’d moved to the area with her parents, stepped forward. Asi handed her the pail.
“Smart choice, those Thorsteinsson girls know how to cook,” he said, winking at the bidder as everyone started clapping.
“This is so much fun,” Freyja whispered. “I hope Stefan knows which pail is mine.”
I kept looking at the door, hoping Finn would appear.
Asi picked up another jam pail. “Very nice,” he said, pointing at the lace ribbon tied to the handle. “I have a feeling the girl who made this looks just as pretty.”
Thora blushed and started to fidget, giving herself away. Asi shot her a sly look. The boys were peeking around one another’s heads to see who the pail belonged to.
“Am I right?” he asked.
A hand went up.
“Three cents,” Asi said. “Who will give me four?”
Another hand went up. “Five?” And then another.
The girls all started giggling. “Six?”
The first boy raised his hand again, and when Asi couldn’t coax another bid, sold the lunch. “Those boys from The Narrows are hungry,” he said, holding out the pail to Thora. As she reached for it, he pulled it back. “Is there Pönnukökur in here?”
Thora giggled nervously. He laughed, handed her the pail, and she hurried away with the boy ambling behind h
er.
“Any chance those players will defect to our team?” Asi asked.
A few cheers from us, boos from them. It continued like this until half the lunches were sold. I tried to get Leifur’s attention, but he avoided looking at me; he bid on the Sveistrup girl’s lunch. Lars, who thought this was Lena Kristjansson’s lunch, bid against Leifur, causing the room to erupt in laughter.
Gudrun caught Asi’s attention then discreetly pointed to the back of the table.
“Alright, Lars,” Asi said holding up the smallest pail. “Let’s try again.”
Everyone cheered when he paid two cents for Lena’s lunch.
“Now look what we have here,” Asi said, holding up Freyja’s pail in one hand, mine in the other. He waited for a few moments until everyone had taken a good look at the pails.
“Both have lovely ribbons.” He cajoled: “My bet is these belong to sisters.”
He held Freyja’s up higher. “Who is going to give me a three cent bid for this one?”
Freyja looked as if she might burst. She glowed at Stefan when their eyes met. His hand went up immediately.
Asi chuckled. “Anyone have four?”
Another hand. Then another. And another.
“I see we have a bidding war,” he said. “If my brother is going to get this one, he’s going to have to spend more than that.”
Stefan held his hand up and did not bring it down.
“We have a bid of eight cents. Do we have nine?”
The Narrows back catcher raised his hand.
Asi looked at Stefan. “Ten?”
Stefan’s head bobbed.
“Eleven?”
The back catcher nodded.
“Are you going to let him tag you out?” Asi asked.
Stefan shook his head. “No goddamned way.”
“I hope not.” To the back catcher. “Thirteen?”
He took a deep breath and said: “Twelve is all I have.”
“Well, that’s alright,” Asi said. “We will get it from you soon.”
Freyja didn’t even try to hide her excitement as she skipped across the floor to take the pail from Asi.
Stefan dug into his pocket, handed Asi the money, then they went to sit outside in the grass.
“And now, the box with the blue ribbon,” he said. “Almost as pretty as the eyes of the young lady who owns it.”
I did my best not to react.
“Who is going to give me three cents?”
Two hands went up.
“Five?”
The Narrows pitcher looked at the back catcher then raised his hand.
“Six? … Seven?”
They bid back and forth up to eleven cents.
I was mortified. I didn’t want to spend the afternoon making small talk with a strange young man.
“I know you have only twelve cents,” Asi said to the back catcher. “Is that your final bid?”
His shoulders fell.
Asi pointed to the pitcher. “Can you beat that?”
The fellow smiled. He was a handsome young man who made all the girls swoon.
“Then it is sold for thirteen cents, to this young man right here.”
Over the sound of everyone clapping and laughing, a voice called out: “I bid fourteen cents.”
Asi raised his hands to quieten the crowd. “Did I hear another bid?” All the young men turned to look. I could not stop myself from blushing. I was so incredibly relieved.
“We have a late bidder,” Asi said.
The pitcher called out, “Fifteen.”
“Sixteen … Seventeen … Eighteen.”
Asi cocked his head at The Narrows pitcher, then pretended to take him into his confidence. “I know that fellow. He will not stop until he wins.”
A few titters from the crowd, neighbors from Hayland who did not realize how serious Finn and I were. The girls on either side of me, the ones whose lunches were still up for auction, giggled uncontrollably.
“Sold, for twenty cents.”
“But I only bid eighteen—” said Bjorn.
“You’re lucky I let you off that easy,” Asi said, holding out his hand for the coins. Then he whispered: “You owe me for this.”
Amma and Bergthora, sitting at the table nearest the door, looked up at us, and for a moment I sensed something strange in their expressions. It wouldn’t be until later, when the evening was over and I was lying at home in bed, that I understood why they were quite satisfied by the turn of events.
“Thank you for saving me,” I said the moment we stepped outside. “I can’t imagine what Finn would think if he heard I had lunch with one of those two.”
Bjorn smiled. “I can.”
Shielding my eyes from the sun, I looked out over the grass to where Stefan and Freyja sat together in the shade. They weren’t sitting side by side like you’d expect; he was sitting with his back against a tree, legs stretched out, while Freyja sat facing him, her legs folded under her dress, one hand resting on his knee. The lunch box was between them and they were laughing as they shared a sandwich.
Growing up does not happen overnight, it only feels that way to the people around. Freyja was already past the gawky stage. I admired her for capturing the heart of the only boy she’d ever loved.
“We are here to keep an eye on you two,” Bjorn said.
Freyja looked up, surprised.
“Be my guest,” Stefan said. “But there is no way you are getting my lunch.”
“I have my own,” he said as we sat down. “I saved Asta from having to spend an hour with that boor from The Narrows.”
“The pitcher?” Stefan asked. “Pitchers are all the same. Show-offs and conceits.”
Bjorn gave him a shove and he laughed as he caught his balance. Freyja scowled, annoyed that we’d joined them.
I opened up the pail then handed Bjorn a sandwich. It tugged at me to watch him bite into it—the sandwich I’d made for Finn.
“Did you see the look on his face when you came up to bat?” Bjorn said.
“No, I was watching the ball.”
“Lot of good it did you.”
“Well at least I hit it,” he said.
“He felt sorry for you.”
“Bullshit,” Stefan said. “You struck out.”
Bjorn was forced to agree. “He knows I hate inside pitches. Threw one every time. At the Narrows tournament I’m going to surprise him. Been practicing my switch hit.”
Stefan looked impressed. Few could bat from both sides.
“It was an exciting game to watch,” Freyja said. “Did you see when little Petur tried to run to Leifur at third base? I barely caught him. He is so sweet. Someday I would like to have a baby exactly like him.” A mosquito landed on her forehead and Stefan reached out to pinch it.
“If that is the case then you will have to marry Olafur,” Bjorn said.
“Bjorn,” I said. He braced himself as I slapped his arm.
“He is right,” Stefan agreed. “You did say ‘exactly like him.’”
“That is not what I meant,” she stammered.
Stefan’s eyes danced as she tried to explain.
“Can we come sit with the rich boys?” Leifur was blocking the sun. He had with him other members of the team and a gaggle of girls all carrying pails.
“They are not rich anymore,” I said, handing Bjorn another sandwich. We all moved over, Freyja and Stefan closer together, Bjorn and I farther apart, as the circle widened.
“You were supposed to bid on my lunch,” I said.
“That would be cheating,” Leifur said. “Besides, her lunch is better.”
Bjorn raised his eyebrows. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Brothers never appreciate their sisters,” Freyja said.
All
of us, including the Sveistrup girl, jeered, then she nudged Leifur in the side with her elbow. He laughed, poking her back.
The banter continued all afternoon. Teasing, telling jokes, having a great time together—none of us realizing that these were the times we would remember—the carefree days when life seemed complicated, but was really quite simple; a time when friendships meant more than anything else in the world.
“I wish Finn were here,” I whispered to Thora after she came to sit beside me.
At dusk we sauntered back to the hall with our arms around each other’s waists. She giggled when I asked if she liked the boy from The Narrows, saying he was nicer than she’d expected. The boys were still horsing around. Some of the men stood at the back of the hall, laughing at Asi’s jokes as they passed around a bottle of home-brew. The door and windows were propped open to let in the cool evening air and the room glowed under golden lamplight. The music started as soon as J.K. came in with his fiddle and the dance floor filled up with folk of all ages twirling and sashaying around the children who chased each other from one end of the hall to the other.
Thora and I jigged for nearly two hours straight. We sat down breathless when J.K. slowed the tempo so the boys could start asking the girls to dance.
Solrun spun Lars and Petur around. Freyja and Stefan sat holding hands under the table while Pabbi twirled Mother around the dance floor. Gudrun made coffee in the kitchen and set out the lunch. Seeing her alone, a few women from Hayland danced their way across the floor to give her a hand.
Signy was fanning herself by the door. Leifur, Bjorn and the rest of our team were at a table behind us, directly across from The Narrows boys. The Thorsteinsson brothers sat across the table from one another, leaning in with one ear to listen, their big hands adding emphasis to their words, then throwing back their heads in laughter.
With The Narrows team still there and most of the young men drinking, there was a chance that a fight might break out, adding uncertainty to the evening, but the music was loud enough that it kept each team from hearing what the other said.
Stefan and Freyja were the first to get up. Leifur came over to our table, having finally mustered enough courage to ask the Sveistrup girl to dance. It was well past midnight when two players from The Narrows invited Thora and me onto the floor. Of course we said yes because it was rude to refuse, and besides, we loved dancing.
Be Still the Water Page 28
