Until We Reach Home (28 page)

“If I had decided to go to Wisconsin,” she asked Elin, “would you have wanted to go, too?”

Elin didn’t look up from her writing. “We can’t keep changing our minds, Kirsten.”

She sighed. “I keep thinking about all those people on the ship and at Ellis Island. They were so hopeful, so happy to be starting all over again. I wonder if they’re as disappointed as we are.”

When it was time to turn off the lights, Sofia reminded them once again to pray. Kirsten wished she could ask God what to do and that He would send a neatly printed reply in an envelope. But He seemed as far away as Tor did, His answers just as slow in coming.

If only the doctors had made a mistake about the baby. If only something would happen and the baby would go away. Was wishing for such a thing an even worse sin?

Kirsten had made a mess of her life. No wonder God wouldn’t listen to her prayers.

Chapter Twenty-Three

S
OFIA THOUGHT ABOUT
Ludwig Schneider all day as she and her sisters labored in their aunt’s boardinghouse. Whenever her longing for him threatened to overwhelm her, Sofia would pause from her task of dusting or sweeping and close her eyes. She would picture him sitting on the bench near the river, bending and swaying in time to the music as he played his violin. She would hear in her mind the melodies he had played and see the tender smile he’d given her each time he finished a song.

“Sofia? Why are you smiling like that?” Kirsten asked her.

“I was just thinking . . .”

“Well, you’d better come back to earth. Aunt Hilma is out in the backyard wringing the necks of two spent laying hens for our supper, and she wants us to pluck them for her.”

“I like working outside,” Sofia said as she followed Kirsten through the kitchen door. “I miss working in the garden and taking care of the animals, don’t you?” Her sister didn’t reply.

The chickens lay on the outdoor worktable beside the pot of scalding water. “Save the feathers,” Hilma said, handing Sofia a sack. “We can’t afford to waste a thing.”

“This is no different than slaving for Aunt Karin all day,” Kirsten grumbled after their aunt went inside, “except that there aren’t any beautiful woods to explore and no cows to give fresh milk. I would love a glassful right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sofia admitted, “but let’s try not to talk about home in front of Elin. She feels responsible for getting us into this situation.”

“I know. But, Sofia? I’m really sorry for making you leave Sweden. You would have stayed behind if I had stayed, so it’s really my fault that you’re here.”

Sofia looked up at her sister in surprise. Tears filled Kirsten’s eyes. She seemed more emotional than usual, and Sofia wondered why. Kirsten had always been the least sentimental of the three of them. “You miss Tor, don’t you?”

Kirsten nodded.

“I miss my friend Ludwig, too,” Sofia said. “I pray every night that I’ll see him again. I’ll pray for you and Tor, too.”

“Thanks,” Kirsten sniffed. Then she grimaced and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. “The smell of these chickens is making me sick. Could you finish them by yourself?”

“I guess so.” This was more like the Kirsten that Sofia remembered—always conniving to get someone else to do her chores. Kirsten thanked her and hurried inside. A few minutes later their cousin Dagmar returned home from school and offered to help Sofia.

“Would you teach me some English words?” Sofia asked while they worked.

“You don’t need to learn English,” Dagmar said. “Mama doesn’t speak it.”

“I know, but I would like to learn.” If she and Ludwig both spoke English, they could talk to each other. “Let’s start with the words for everyday things, like chicken and tree and house.”

They made a game of it, and Sofia penned a list of all the words Dagmar taught her, writing their Swedish meanings beside them. When they collected the eggs at the end of the day, Dagmar taught her how to count in English. Sofia made up her mind to practice speaking English every day.

After the supper dishes were done, Uncle Lars walked with Sofia and her sisters to the parsonage to speak with the pastor about finding work. “These are my three nieces,” he told Pastor Johnson. “Their parents died tragically, and they’ve just arrived in America to look for work. Do you know of anyone needing help?”

The pastor appraised them with a stern expression. “Are they willing to work as domestic servants? I’ve been told that unmarried Swedish women make up the majority of Chicago’s servants. Our girls have earned a good reputation for being clean, honest, and hardworking.”

“We’re willing to do whatever we can,” Elin said.

“They know their way around hard work, that’s for certain,” Lars told him. “If you hear of a reputable family that would hire them, please let me know.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I hope he doesn’t get the wrong idea and sell us as wives, too,” Sofia whispered to Kirsten on the way home.

“I hope we don’t end up sleeping behind someone’s stove like poor Inge does,” she whispered back.

Two days later Aunt Hilma and Uncle Lars received word that the pastor and his wife were coming to call on them after dinner. Sofia and her sisters would be allowed to go into the front parlor to receive the guests. Aunt Hilma brewed a pot of coffee and even baked a batch of
pepparkakor
. “But the cookies are for Pastor and Mrs. Johnson,” Hilma warned. “I can’t afford enough for the three of you, too.”

“Has he found work for us?” Sofia asked her.

“He didn’t say—and don’t be nosy and start asking rude questions, either. He’ll tell us the reason for his visit in his own time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sofia carried the serving tray into the parlor and set it on the coffee table. Two boarders sat beneath the gas lamps she had cleaned that afternoon, reading Swedish language newspapers. Three more boarders sat around a small parlor table in the corner, talking softly. Sofia didn’t see any boarders who matched Aunt Hilma’s description of “coarse and rough.” But the moment she entered the room, every one of the men eyed her as if she were a Yuletide present, wrapped in fancy paper and ribbons. No wonder Aunt Hilma kept her and her sisters confined to the kitchen.

When the pastor and his wife arrived, all but one of the boarders discreetly left the room. The guests settled down on the sofa as if they had come for nothing more than a pleasant visit. Sofia could see Kirsten growing impatient as Pastor Johnson and Uncle Lars sipped their coffee and discussed the weather, and Mrs. Johnson and Aunt Hilma tasted the cookies. Sofia hoped that at least one of the gingery
pepparkakor
would be left over so that she and her sisters could share a taste, but Mrs. Johnson was swallowing the little treats as if in a race to clean the plate.

Finally, Pastor Johnson came to the point of their visit. “I have learned of someone who is looking for temporary help with her spring cleaning,” he said.

“Oh? Isn’t spring cleaning usually begun in March?” Hilma asked.

“
Ja
, but the family wants to offer the house for sale, so they would like to have it thoroughly cleaned. They’ve had trouble with their hired help lately, so now they are behind on the work.”

“Do I know this family?” Uncle Lars asked.

“I’m sure you do.” The pastor hesitated. It seemed like a very long pause to Sofia. “Your nieces would be working for Silvia Anderson—Gustav Anderson’s widow.”

Sofia waited, wondering again why there was such a long pause and why she saw her aunt and uncle exchange looks. But Hilma had warned her not to ask questions.

“Mrs. Anderson will pay them four dollars a week plus room and board. She told me that she is only looking for two girls, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask her if she’ll take all three. The work will get done faster that way, and as you know, her home is quite large.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen Silvia Anderson in church these past few months,” Aunt Hilma said, pouring Mrs. Johnson another cup of coffee.

“She hasn’t been well.” Mrs. Johnson added cream and three teaspoonfuls of sugar. Sofia could tell by her aunt’s expression that she noticed the large quantity of sugar, too. “Mrs. Anderson is in poor health, which is why her son and daughter-in-law would like to sell the house. They want Silvia to move in with them. At the moment, Mrs. Anderson employs a cook and she has a nurse taking care of her. But I understand that very little cleaning is being done.”

“We would be willing to go and meet her,” Kirsten said.

“It’s more important that she meets you,” Aunt Hilma said, giving Kirsten her customary frown. “It will be up to Silvia Anderson to decide if she wants to hire you, not the other way around.”

The pastor gave them a letter of reference before he left. When Sofia carried the tray back to the kitchen, she was disappointed to see that not a single
pepparkakor
remained.

“Silvia Anderson,” Hilma said, grunting the name. “She’s so rich she thinks she owns everyone and everything.”

“She does own everything, Hilma,” Uncle Lars said, smiling wryly.

“Oh, you know what I mean. And I shouldn’t wonder that she needs help. From what I hear, she goes through serving girls like rinse water.”

“Don’t be a gossip, Hilma.”

“It’s not gossip, it’s the truth. She is notoriously difficult to get along with.”

“We have plenty of experience with that,” Kirsten whispered to Sofia, nodding her head in their aunt’s direction.

“What’s that?” Hilma asked, pinning Kirsten with a stare.

“I said we have plenty of experience with cleaning houses. And we won’t be burdening you with our room and board anymore.”

“Exactly how much do we owe the men for our trip?” Elin asked as she washed the coffee cups.

“Well, let’s see . . .” Lars said. “There was the train across Sweden, the ferry, then another train across England, then the ship’s passage . . . Altogether, I believe it cost more than thirty-five dollars.”

“For
each
of us?” Kirsten blurted.

He nodded. “Then add the trip from New York to Chicago on top of that, some traveling money, and the fare to take you up to Wisconsin—”

“We didn’t go to Wisconsin,” Elin said.

“
Ja
, that’s true, but I think you should plan on at least forty dollars apiece.”

“That means,” Kirsten said, “that we would have to work for at least ten weeks at four dollars a week. By then, it will be the middle of August.”

“At least,” Hilma agreed. “And I wouldn’t blame the young men in Wisconsin if they charged you interest on their money, since it turned out to be a loan.”

Forty dollars felt like a million. They would never get out of debt. Sofia thought of Ludwig, and how he had spent all that money for his boat fare to America, only to be sent back. No wonder he planned to swim off the island. Worry shuddered through her each time she pictured him jumping into the cold gray water and trying to swim across that impossibly wide river. But each time she began to worry, she made up her mind to say a silent prayer for Ludwig. She would picture God’s hands beneath him, holding him afloat.

“I think we should call on Silvia Anderson first thing in the morning and ask her for the jobs,” Sofia told her sisters in their bedroom that night.

“We can find out how mean she really is,” Kirsten added.

“Aunt Hilma says the choice is up to Mrs. Anderson,” Elin said, “but there’s no reason why we can’t quit if we don’t like her.”

“It will buy us some time,” Sofia agreed. She held on to the hope that Ludwig would find her in the meantime and come to her rescue.

Before they turned out the lamp, Sofia read silently from the Bible, returning to some of the verses that Ludwig had shown her. Each one reassured her that God was with them. He would watch over them and help them out of this situation if they trusted Him. She also found a few new verses of her own, such as the promise from Psalms that said,
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress.

She always finished her nightly reading with the verses from Song of Songs that Ludwig had shown her on their last day together:
Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

She reached into her satchel to feel the smooth wood of his violin as she read his last promise:
I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves.
Ludwig would find her again. She would wait for him, no matter what.

Sofia and her sisters rose early the next morning and dressed in their Sunday clothes to make a good impression. “I’ll draw you a map so you’ll know how to find the Anderson house,” Uncle Lars said. “It’s a long way to walk—”

“But we can’t spare the trolley fare for all three of you,” Hilma finished.

Sofia had never met anyone who worried about money as much as their aunt did. “We used to walk all the way into the village when we had to,” she told her aunt. “We’re used to walking.”

“Don’t use the front door,” Hilma warned. “The hired help is supposed to go around to the rear.”

It was a long walk, but only a quarter as far as the trip from their farm to the village had been. They followed Uncle Lars’ map as if it would lead to buried treasure, and the closer they got to the address, the larger the homes and surrounding gardens became. But they all stopped short when they saw Silvia Anderson’s enormous three-story stone mansion for the first time. Sofia thought it was nearly as imposing as the building on Ellis Island.

“I’ve never seen a house that huge,” Elin said.

“She must be as rich as a queen!” Kirsten said.

“How will we ever clean all those rooms?” Sofia asked.

“Listen, the longer it takes,” Elin said, “the more money we’ll make, and the sooner we can get out of debt.”

They went around to the back door as they’d been told to do and were greeted by a woman who was so tiny and gnarled with arthritis that she reminded Sofia of a gnome; all she needed was a pointed red hat. She appeared to be in her sixties, her golden hair fading to gray and worn in braided coils. But the warmth in her smiling gray eyes assured Sofia that she would be a friend.