Until We Reach Home (14 page)

“I’m going down below to gather our belongings,” she said. “Come and get me when we’re almost there. I’ll need your help with the trunk.”

Elin staggered down the stairs with her eyes closed, gripping the railing to guide her way, grateful that the passageways were dimly lit and deserted. The dormitory in steerage was nearly deserted, too. She lay down on her bunk and closed her eyes, desperate for relief. It didn’t come.

She couldn’t get sick, not when they were this close to their goal. She had to get through the next few hours and pass inspection and board the train to Chicago. She wondered what would happen if she didn’t pass inspection. She had been afraid to ask Mr. Lindahl that question.

Elin awoke to a buzz of excited voices. She sat up, disoriented. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She looked around and saw the other passengers packing their belongings, preparing to haul them up the stairs to the deck. That’s what she should be doing. She climbed slowly out of bed and finished stuffing everything into their trunk just as Kirsten and Sofia came downstairs to help her.

“Hurry up, Elin,” Kirsten said. “We’re almost to America. We’re supposed to see that famous statue from France any minute.”

It took a great deal of tugging and pushing and grunting to maneuver their trunk up the many flights of stairs, especially with Elin’s body aching the way it did. “Going down was definitely easier,” she said.

Outside, the sunlight seemed even more blinding than before. But ahead of them, visible in the steamy haze, was the city of New York. It sprawled into the distance as far as Elin could see, with buildings that seemed to soar into the sky. She had never seen so many ships in her life, lying at anchor, and sailing up and down on the wide river. And trees! She was relieved to see that America had trees. The horizon was green with them.

“Look! There’s the statue,” Kirsten said, pointing above everyone’s heads. “The Statue of Liberty.”

Passengers rushed to the left side of the boat to view it, forcing Elin to stand on her toes, craning around people’s bobbing heads to see it. At first, it looked like a coppery shadow pointing up into the air above the trees, but as they neared Liberty Island, the statue grew larger and larger. Elin gazed at the huge stone pedestal and graceful figure in awe. Men removed their hats in respect.

Lady Liberty wore a starlike crown on her head and her long, elegant robe hung in beautifully draped folds. She held a tablet in one hand and a torch in the other, high above her head as if to light the way into the harbor.

“She’s beautiful,” Elin murmured.

At first the crowd stared in near silence. Then someone began to clap. Others quickly joined in, and the sound swelled in strength until it was deafening. Joy and hope sounded the same in every language.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Kirsten said. “We’re in America! We’re finally in America!”

Elin glanced at Sofia to see her reaction, but her sister wasn’t cheering. Instead, Sofia stared at the statue with a frown on her face. Elin was afraid to ask what she was thinking. She had given up trying to lift Sofia’s spirits. Time would have to heal her sorrow. Until then, Elin comforted herself with the knowledge that she had rescued her sister from a future too horrible for words.

The ship sailed past the monument. Lady Liberty was so close, so enormous that she seemed to fill the sky. For the first time, Elin dared to hope for freedom—from her past and from Uncle Sven. She was really here in America, and she would never have to see him again. Tears of joy flowed down her face.

“Why are you crying?” Sofia asked.

“I don’t know . . . she’s Lady Liberty. And she’s welcoming us. I can’t explain it.”

“It is a beautiful sight,” Kirsten breathed. “I’ve never seen anything that huge and that lovely before. America must be a very rich place. . . . What do you think of her, Sofia?”

Sofia said nothing. Elin glanced at her again and saw her staring morosely into the distance.

“I know I didn’t want to come with you at first,” Kirsten told Elin, “but I’m so glad I did. This is so exciting! I don’t think I could bear living on our little farm ever again, so far away from town. Oh, if only—” She stopped.

“If only what?” Elin asked.

“Nothing. I can’t believe we’re finally here. I’m so excited I feel dizzy! What do you think of the statue, Mrs. Lindahl?” Kirsten asked. The family had moved up to stand beside them again.

“It truly is a wonder. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life—and probably never will again.”

“I’ve heard there is an inscription on the pedestal,” Mr. Lindahl said, “that tells how the statue welcomes all of the poor, suffering people in the world to America. She is holding up her lamp to light their path.”

Elin still couldn’t stop her tears. She felt so weak and shaky all of a sudden that she had to sit down on their trunk and rest. Probably from all of the excitement.

Their ship slowly sailed away from the statue, steaming across the river to the port of New York City. America looked so big and beautiful to Elin, the sky and water so blue—like something from a dream. It seemed like paradise. And best of all, she and her sisters would be safe.

Chapter Thirteen

“I
CAN’T WAIT
to get off this boat,” Kirsten said, kicking the bulwark with her foot. “I know it has only been two weeks, but it seems like we’ve been living down in steerage for a hundred years.”

All of the other passengers seemed eager to get off, too, crowding forward with their belongings, pushing against the railings and each other. But even after the ship was safely docked at the pier in New York and all of the ropes and anchors and gangways were secured, the barrier that confined the mob to the steerage deck remained closed. The wait was maddening.

“It figures they would let all the rich people with first-class tickets get off first,” Kirsten grumbled as they watched throngs of well-dressed passengers disembark. “I wish they would hurry up.”

“But we will not be getting off here at all,” Mr. Lindahl told them.

“We won’t?”

“
Nej.
They send all the steerage passengers to the immigration station on Ellis Island.”

The news made Kirsten angry. Elin was looking weaker and more ill by the moment, and judging by the way she shaded her eyes with her hand, her headache must be excruciating. If they didn’t pass the health inspection soon, Elin would no longer be able to pretend that she was well.

Kirsten knew it must be close to noon, for the sun felt like a fire above their heads. She was beginning to feel a little dizzy. She wished she had eaten breakfast.

“Where is Ellis Island?” Kirsten asked. “How far away?”

Mr. Lindahl shrugged. “I’m not sure. But they will begin calling the roll of passengers soon and giving us landing cards with our numbers on it. We must listen very carefully for our names. The Americans do not know how to pronounce them correctly.”

The flow of first- and second-class passengers finally tapered off until only the steerage passengers remained aboard the ship. Roll call took a very long time as, one by one, the ship’s officials called out everyone’s name. Men and women in workmen’s caps and kerchiefs came forward, trailing their children behind them, waiting to have their landing papers pinned to the front of their clothing. Kirsten could barely control her impatience.

The officials called the Lindahl family forward, then Eric and Hjelmer. Kirsten looked away to avoid meeting Eric’s gaze. He had successfully avoided her all morning, and that was fine with her.

“Carlson!” the official called out. “Elin Carlson . . . Kirsten Carlson . . . Sofia Carlson . . .” Kirsten helped Elin stand up, linking arms with her as they went forward.

“I feel like an item for sale in Magnusson’s store,” Kirsten said as the officials pinned tags to her clothing. She had hoped that her joke would make Elin smile, but it didn’t. She looked more unwell by the minute, her face deathly pale. “Are you all right?” Kirsten whispered.

“Just nervous. This is the last stream to jump.”

“Well, pinch your cheeks, for goodness’ sake. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Finally the barrier opened, but instead of allowing the passengers to step onto American soil at last, the officials herded everyone onto ferryboats. “Help me with the trunk,” Kirsten told Sofia. Elin usually took charge of it, but she looked too weak to help wrestle it on board. Sofia didn’t look ill, just sulky and stubborn. She could pout all she wanted to; it wasn’t Kirsten’s job to cheer her up.

The ferry was small and unbelievably crowded. It felt very unstable in the water, rocking back and forth and banging against the dock every time another ship sailed up or down the river, leaving a wake. When every inch had been packed with passengers and baggage, the engines fired up and the boat slowly chugged away from the dock, heading downstream again, back across the wide river toward the statue. The water was so choppy it was nearly impossible to remain standing without holding on to something.

“Oh no,” Kirsten groaned. “Not another wild ride. I hope we don’t have to go too far.”

She started feeling sick before they were halfway across the river. She couldn’t get ill now, not when they had to pass inspection. She glanced around and saw that the rocking motion was affecting everyone. She fastened her eyes on the horizon, the way Eric had advised. The ferry seemed to be heading straight toward the statue.

Then Kirsten saw a cluster of small ships waiting to dock at another island not far from the statue. As they drew closer, a huge three-story wooden structure came into view. It looked like a castle from a fairy tale, with a blue slate roof and four magnificent towers topped with pointed spires. Dozens of mullioned windows decorated the façades. Kirsten nudged Elin.

“Look at that place. It’s like a palace or a grand hotel or something.”

“America must be a very rich country,” Elin said, “if this is how they welcome poor people like us—first with a giant statue and now this.”

The engines slowed, then halted. The ferry lined up behind several others and the ship became a floating waiting room. Except for the crying babies, the other passengers were unusually quiet. Everyone else must be nervous, too. Kirsten wished she could talk to the other immigrants and ask them why they had left their homelands and what they wished for in America. If someone had asked for her story, she would have confessed that she had fled from small town gossip and a faithless lover. And what future did she wish for? Her wish was impossible to fulfill. She still loved Tor, in spite of everything.

The sun grew hotter and hotter by the minute. Kirsten’s vision began to blur. If they had to wait here much longer she feared she might faint. She dug through her bag for something to use as a fan. Elin sat on their trunk with her eyes closed.

Finally their ferry moved forward to dock. The sailors slammed the gangway into place and everyone crowded toward the ramp, struggling with cumbersome luggage and restless children. Fear and excitement and hope filled each face. Kirsten wanted to be the first person off the boat, the first person to pass through the inspection lines. But Elin seemed to be having trouble standing, much less walking across the ferry’s bobbing deck.

“Sit down,” she told Elin. “No sense being in a rush. We’ll have to wait for our turn anyway.” Elin sank onto the trunk again. She looked relieved. “That ride across the river made me woozy,” Kirsten said. “And after hearing everything that Mr. Lindahl said, I think I’m a little nervous, too.” Once again she wished she had eaten breakfast. Too late now.

When they finally stepped onto dry land, Kirsten felt as though she had forgotten how to walk. Her head reeled and her knees felt rubbery after being at sea for so long. She struggled to recover her balance, teetering like a drunken woman. Good thing everyone else moved as slowly as she did or the Americans would think something was wrong with her. She longed to close her eyes, but she and Sofia had to lug their trunk into the building. They staggered up the pier with it and joined the long line of people waiting beneath the entrance canopy.

Kirsten saw several uniformed men standing between the dock and the building’s entrance and she hoped they were porters who would help them with their luggage. But the men never moved from their posts as they carefully surveyed the crowd, and she remembered what Mr. Lindahl had said about the inspection process. Evidently it had already begun. She and Sofia hoisted the trunk between them, dragging it along the ground half of the time, pushing and shoving it up the ramp.

“Don’t scowl,” Kirsten whispered to Sofia. “Try to look strong and healthy.”

“I am healthy,” she grumbled. “You and Elin are the ones who look sick.”

It was true. Elin did not look well at all. And she was much too quiet. She clung to Sofia’s arm, her eyes squeezed shut to block out the sun’s glare.

“Are we almost there?” Elin murmured.

“We’re almost to the building,” Kirsten said, “and then it will only be another hour or so until we’re on the train to Chicago.”

Inside, an enormous baggage room took up most of the building’s main floor. Piles and piles of steamer trunks and suitcases and wicker baskets and crates of all shapes and sizes filled most of the space, while more men in uniform directed the flow of immigrants up a long, steep flight of stairs in the center of the room. Kirsten saw some people checking their luggage, while others dragged their bags with them up the steps. She knew it would take all three of them pushing and tugging to get their trunk to the top, and she dreaded the thought of it. But she also knew that ever since the first day of their journey, Elin had refused to let the trunk out of her sight.

“I think we should leave the trunk here,” Elin said wearily. Kirsten and Sofia gaped at her in surprise

“Are you sure?” Kirsten asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. We can’t possibly haul it up all those stairs by ourselves.” When they continued to stare at her, she added, “Look, I know I’ve been a fanatic about keeping my eye on that stupid thing, but I don’t see how we can push it any farther. Look how steep those stairs are.”