Until We Reach Home (12 page)

When Kirsten and Sofia both hesitated, she added, “Come on. Please? We can’t let them suffer. We have to help them. Suppose the three of us were sick and needed help?”

“All right,” Kirsten said grudgingly. “You lift up the children and I’ll pull down the mattresses. But let Sofia stay away so that at least one of us doesn’t catch it.”

“We’re not going to catch it. I think this family was already getting sick before they boarded. Remember how droopy the oldest boy was?”

“Please be careful, Elin,” Kirsten said.

“I will.”

When they finished moving the children and their mattresses, Elin shooed Kirsten away and continued caring for them on her own. Days passed as Elin spent all of her time nursing the family. None of them showed signs of getting better. She began to grow weary, her sleep disturbed several times a night, but she refused to let Sofia and Kirsten help her, fearing that they would get sick, too. The task she dreaded the most was changing the baby’s diapers, which had to be washed and hung up to dry every day. The odor in steerage had been foul enough without adding dirty diapers to it.

At first, most of the other steerage passengers were too seasick to notice the family’s illness. But once the storm blew over and the sea became calm again, Elin saw everyone shying away from the family, keeping their distance from them—and her. Their fear was evident on their faces.

“I think you should get someone else to help them,” Kirsten told her. “There must be a doctor aboard the ship, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know . . . I promised the woman that I would help her . . .”

“How could you promise her anything?” Kirsten asked. “She can’t understand a word you say. Besides, if they do have something contagious, they need to be taken out of here before everyone else in this place gets sick.”

“I don’t know . . . what do you think I should do, Sofia?”

She shrugged. “I don’t care if I do get sick and die,” she mumbled.

“Stop it, Sofia! Don’t talk that way, do you hear me?” Elin had been so preoccupied for the past few days that she hadn’t noticed Sofia’s darkening mood. But now, on top of everything else, it was one more thing to worry about.

In the end, Elin didn’t have to decide whether or not to report the family’s illness. Someone else must have told the ship’s authorities about them, because the doctor came down to steerage one evening and examined the children himself. Elin couldn’t understand a word he said, but he ordered the porters to carry the mother and her children away on stretchers and then collect all of their belongings and strip their beds.

When everything had been cleared away, the doctor turned to the passengers in the surrounding beds, including Elin and her sisters, and began examining them, feeling their foreheads for fever, asking questions that none of them could understand. Elin assured him that she felt fine, but fear made her heart race. The family obviously had a very serious illness for the doctor to go to all this trouble. What if he learned that she had been helping them? What if they took her away, too?

“I can’t leave my sisters,” she told the doctor, even though he couldn’t understand her. “Please let me stay. We’re all fine.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when he left, but as the days passed, Elin couldn’t shake the feeling that the other passengers were watching her. She had no doubt that they would report her to the authorities immediately if she or her sisters showed any signs of illness. Sofia acted so droopy most of the time that Elin feared her depression might be misinterpreted as illness. Every hour or so, she felt Sofia’s forehead for signs of fever and tried to cheer her up.

“Talk to me, Sofia. Tell me what you’re thinking. Why are you so quiet?”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong? You’re not getting sick, are you?” Elin reached to feel her forehead once again, but Sofia pushed her hand away.

“Leave me alone! I told you I’m not sick!”

“Then let’s all go up on deck for a while.” Elin stood, straightening her skirts, then reached for Sofia’s hand. “Come on.”

“This is a surprise,” Kirsten said, swinging her feet to the floor. “Are you sure
you
feel all right?”

“Of course I do. Come on, show me around up there.”

Together they pried Sofia off the bed and got her moving. And as weary as Elin was, and as much as she hated the sight of the open sea, her fear for Sofia outweighed everything else. She took her sister’s hand and followed Kirsten up the stairs.

Chapter Eleven

W
ORD SPREAD ALL
over the ship that this would be the last night at sea. Tomorrow Kirsten and her sisters would reach America. With so many languages spoken on board and so much confusion, Kirsten couldn’t imagine how the news had been transmitted, but the excitement the passengers shared was contagious.

“Come up on deck with me tonight,” she begged her sisters after they’d eaten supper. “This will be our last night on the ship, and we need to celebrate together. Please?”

“I guess we could go,” Elin said. Sofia followed wordlessly.

Numberless stars filled the canopy of sky above Kirsten’s head, and the sound of music and laughter filled the cool night air. A spontaneous party had begun as people celebrated the beginning of their new lives. Kirsten longed to grab her sisters’ hands and dance with joy, but she could barely move on the overcrowded deck, let alone dance.

“It looks like we’re not the only ones who are happy to see our journey end,” Kirsten said. “And tonight we don’t even have to speak the same language. Joy is universal!”

Elin nodded. She seemed to be studying the deck planking instead of noticing how luminous the sea looked with moonlight gilding the waves. Sofia remained as somber and unenthusiastic as a fir tree. Kirsten wished they would share her happiness.

If only Tor were here—if only she could have shared this adventure with him. He would have loved this enormous party. But Kirsten refused to allow memories of Tor to dampen her joy. She spread her arms as wide as she could in the cramped space and twirled in a circle. “I’m going to miss the ocean. Isn’t it magnificent? It’s so powerful—almost as if it’s alive! And we’re crawling across the surface of it like a flea on a bear.”

Her sisters looked at her blankly. She wanted to shake them. Maybe she should have come up on deck by herself. All around her, Kirsten heard the babbling conversations of the other passengers, gathering in their various ethnic groups. Many of them were celebrating with food and, judging by the raucous laughter, alcoholic drinks. Children jumped around like rabbits. Musical instruments appeared: a violin, an accordion, a mandolin. Some people sang, while others had cleared a tiny space to dance.

“Oh look. There’s Eric and Hjelmer,” she said, spotting her friends. “And Hjelmer brought his concertina. Come on, let’s go talk to them.”

She pulled Elin and Sofia through the melee to where the boys were conversing with the Lindahls, another Swedish family who were immigrating with their three small children. Kirsten had met them several days ago, and she introduced her sisters to them.

“I didn’t realize there were other Swedes aboard,” Elin said in surprise. Kirsten swallowed the temptation to remind Elin that if she had bothered to come up on deck more often, she could have met them. “Where are you staying?” Elin asked. “I didn’t see you down in steerage.”

“
Ja
, we are in steerage, too,” Mr. Lindahl said. “I guess it’s easy to get lost in such a huge place.”

The conversation soon turned to talk of America—what it would be like, what everyone’s relatives had written to say about it, what everyone’s hopes and dreams were once they arrived. America’s streets would be paved with gold, judging by the stories Kirsten heard. She would live like a queen. Anything was possible in America. As each person shared his own tiny sketch of the country, the finished picture resembled paradise.

“You ladies are very brave to travel to America all alone,” Mrs. Lindahl told Elin.

“Well, we didn’t have much choice. Our parents died, and it was too hard for us to keep the farm going all by ourselves.”

“You had no other relatives to help you?” Mr. Lindahl asked.

“Our brother deserted us,” Elin said. “He left home and never wrote to tell us where he is. Our uncle Sven and his family took over the farm, and so . . .” Her voice trailed off. She seemed to wither like a blossom in the sun, right before Kirsten’s eyes.

“So we’re going to Chicago to live with our other aunt and uncle,” Kirsten finished. “What about you? Was it hard for you to leave home?”

“
Ja
, we left many, many friends and family members behind,” Mr. Lindahl said. “But we also have family in America already. I was tired of being poor and struggling to make a living with thin soil and hard winters. They say the land in America is very good and that you can find a good job if you don’t like to farm. Either way, we will soon be eating like kings.”

“But it was very hard to leave,” Mrs. Lindahl added. “We cried many, many tears. We will probably never see our loved ones again in this life—” She stopped, her cheeks turning pink as if suddenly recalling that the sisters’ parents were dead. “But you girls know how that is. Didn’t you say that your mother is in heaven?”

“
Ja.
She died five years ago,” Elin said.

“I’m so sorry. . . . I feel a little bit scared about coming to America,” Mrs. Lindahl said, “but a little excited, too.” She looked at Sofia, who hadn’t spoken a word and asked, “How about you, dear? Are you eager to land tomorrow?”

“Elin said that our lives will never be the same,” Sofia said morosely.

“No she didn’t,” Kirsten said. “Elin said that it’s up to you, Sofia. Your life will be whatever you make of it.”

She saw Eric and his cousin looking all around as if tired of the conversation and eager to join the party. Hjelmer lifted his concertina and squeezed out a few chords. “Look at all these people,” he said, gesturing to the crowd. “We’re all so different—different languages and clothing, different faces. But we’re all the same in our hopes for the future.”

“My brother in America says this is what it’s like over there,” Eric added. “People of all nations, becoming a new family.”

“
Ja
, and we will all be Americans soon,” Mr. Lindahl said. “Once we land, we won’t be Swedish anymore.”

His declaration gave Kirsten a strange feeling. She couldn’t imagine not being Swedish.

They talked for awhile longer, until the Lindahl children grew tired. “I think it is time to put them to bed,” Mrs. Lindahl said. “We have a big day tomorrow, and we must all look our best to pass the immigration inspection.”

“You never said anything about an inspection,” Kirsten whispered to Elin, but her words were lost in the confusion as the family bid everyone good-night and left. Eric and Hjelmer also drifted away.

“I’m getting cold,” Sofia said, rubbing her arms. “I want to go inside.”

“But don’t you want to join the singing, Sofia? You used to love to sing.” Sofia shook her head in reply. “Oh, come on,” Kirsten begged. “The party is just getting started.”

“I’m feeling pretty tired, too,” Elin replied. “And as Mrs. Lindahl said, we need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” Kirsten asked.

“No. But I lost a lot of sleep when I was taking care of that family.”

It still bothered Kirsten that the mother and her children had never returned. “What disease do you suppose they had?” she asked.

“It can’t be anything too serious,” Elin said, inching toward the door, “or the entire ship would be in an uproar. Aren’t you coming with us?” she asked Kirsten.

“No. I want to stay longer. I’m not tired in the least.” She could tell that Elin was searching for an excuse to make her come with them. Kirsten crossed her arms in defiance and waited. A hundred angry trolls couldn’t force her to go back down to that dungeon on such a beautiful night. The sounds of laughter and singing filled the night air. Someone began playing a harmonica. Kirsten couldn’t help tapping her feet in rhythm.

“Please let me stay,” she begged.

Elin sighed. “Don’t be too late.”

As soon as Elin and Sofia were gone, Kirsten made her way over to Eric’s side. A group had gathered around to hear Hjelmer play his concertina, and Kirsten listened and joined in on some of the songs. This was the happiest she’d felt since leaving Tor more than two weeks ago. She was thinking of him when Eric gently slipped his hand into hers.

“Want to explore the ship with me?” he whispered.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to explore, are we? Didn’t they say that steerage passengers are supposed to stay on this deck?”

“How would I know?” he said with a sly smile. “I can’t read the signs. We can plead ignorance if we get caught. After all, we don’t understand English, right?”

Kirsten liked the idea of an adventure. She followed him willingly as he climbed over the gate into forbidden territory. “Where are we going?”

“Hjelmer and I have already done a little exploring. That’s how we found the secret route that leads to the first-class passenger deck. You should see how nice they have it up there with comfortable deck chairs to sit on and a real dining room with china and crystal. There’s even a ballroom. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Kirsten let him lead the way. But as soon as she glimpsed the wealthy passengers in satin ball gowns and tuxedoes, she slowed to a halt, tugging on Eric’s hand. “They’ll know we don’t belong here. Look at their clothes—and look at ours.”

“So? They can hardly throw us overboard. Listen . . . hear the music from the ballroom? They have an entire orchestra playing.”

Kirsten cocked her head as the strains of a waltz drifted toward them on the wind. “It’s loud enough to dance to,” she said.

“Shh—here comes somebody!” Eric pulled her into the shadows, ducking behind a lifeboat as a sailor hurried past. When the man was gone, she and Eric remained there, sitting side by side, concealed behind the lifeboat.

“Are you warm enough?” Eric didn’t wait for her reply but draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close for warmth. Kirsten’s heart began to race. She could feel the strength in Eric’s grip and for a moment she felt a prickle of fear at being alone with him. She remembered Elin’s warning:
“Those boys are bigger and stronger than you are. . . . They could take advantage of you.”