Until We Reach Home (7 page)

“How will you understand what they’re saying back to you?” Kirsten asked. Elin’s mouth opened in surprise, then she closed it again.

“I’ll figure something out.” She hurried away, clutching their uncle’s letter. Sofia sat down beside Kirsten and their trunk, watching as Elin got in line and slowly made her way to the clerk’s window.

Sofia folded her hands in her lap to make them stop shaking. “Tell me the truth, Kirsten. Are you as scared as I am?”

“The truth?” Kirsten paused, looking all around as if someone might overhear her. “Sometimes it seems like we made a big mistake. Elin might as well be deaf and mute. She can’t communicate with anyone or understand a word they’re saying to her.”

“Do you think . . . I mean . . . what if we just admitted we made a mistake and turned around and went home?”

“We can’t, Sofia. We had to leave the village.” Kirsten sounded as impatient with her as Elin usually did. It made Sofia furious to have both sisters turning against her and treating her like a child.

“I still don’t understand why! Why did we have to leave? And I want to know what you meant the other day when you said that people in town were whispering about us.”

Kirsten shook her head, refusing to answer. She stared down at the tiled floor, biting her lip.

Sofia looked over at the ticket window. It was finally Elin’s turn, and she handed her letter to the clerk. A few other Swedes from the ferry had followed Elin, and they gathered around her, talking and gesturing. The frustration of not being understood, not being heard, boiled up inside Sofia until she wanted to scream.

“I think I have a right to know why we had to leave home!” she shouted at Kirsten.

“Because we’re orphans!” Kirsten shouted back. “There—are you happy now?”

“What does being orphans have to do with leaving home? Or finding husbands?”

“We don’t have a father or mother to speak up for us or to make a good match for us in the village. No one wants to marry an orphan.”

“That’s stupid. It’s not our fault Mama and Papa died. Losing them isn’t a disease or anything.”

“But that’s exactly how everyone treated us—as if their families might die, too, if their sons married one of us.”

“So what? I don’t even care if I get married or—”

“You’ll care someday,” Kirsten said sharply. “And then what?”

Elin returned. Her face looked haggard, but she smiled bravely. “Why is it that whenever people can’t make you understand them, they shout at you—as if volume alone will solve the problem?”

Kirsten gestured impatiently, twirling her hands in the air as if winding a ball of yarn. “So? Did you find out about our train?”

“Yes. It took all of us Swedes putting our heads together to figure it out, but evidently the train left without us.”

Fear rose up inside Sofia, and with it a wellspring of tears. It was the same hollowed-out feeling she’d felt at her parents’ funerals. Once again, she had been left behind.

“Why did the train leave without us?” she asked. “We had tickets!”

“The storm made our ferry late,” Elin said, taking Sofia’s hand, “but the train had to stick to its schedule.”

“Well, what about one of these other trains? Can’t we get on one of them?”

“England is a big place, Sofia. None of these other trains is going to Liverpool, where our ship is. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to catch the next one.”

“Are we going to miss our boat to America, too?” Kirsten asked.

“Let’s just go home,” Sofia said.

“No, listen. Our ship doesn’t sail until the day after tomorrow. But even if something does happen and we do miss it, one of the Swedish men said we could probably take the next ship—just like we’re taking the next train. He says our tickets will probably still be valid.”

“So we’re stuck here for the night?” Kirsten asked. “With the trolls?”

“It seems so,” Elin said. “Some of the other Swedes are going to leave the station and look for a place to eat and spend the night.”

“Can we go, too?”

“We don’t have money to spare for such luxuries, Kirsten. Besides, how would we find our way to a hotel and back? None of us can speak English or read any of the signs. What if we took a wrong turn and got lost? How would we ever find help?”

“You worry too much,” Kirsten said. “Come on, I think we should go exploring.”

“No,” Sofia said. “I don’t want to get lost.” She could feel the pressure of tears building behind her eyes, and she wanted to run to a ladies’ room and bawl her eyes out. But how would they ever find one? Who could they ask? How would they make themselves understood? “I need the washroom,” she whimpered.

“Well, it shouldn’t be hard to find,” Kirsten said. She rose on her tiptoes, surveying the station. “I’ll go have a look around.”

“No, you stay with our trunk, Kirsten. I’ll take Sofia.”

Elin linked arms with her as they made a circuit of the perimeter, eventually finding the comfort facilities. The big echoing washroom was surprisingly nice for a public place, though the tile floor was scuffed and dirty.

“It doesn’t even smell too bad,” Elin said.

Sofia broke free and ran into one of the stalls, slamming the door behind her. She sat down on the stool and buried her face in her skirt as she finally released her grief and fear. She was an orphan. The villagers hadn’t wanted them, and now she and her sisters were lost and alone in a strange city. She felt as though she’d been pushed into a rapidly flowing river and left to drown as she drifted farther and farther downstream. She wept silently for a long time, keeping her sorrow to herself.

“Sofia? Are you all right?” Elin finally called to her.

“Yes,” she sniffed. “I’ll be right out.”

She avoided her reflection in the mirror, staring at the floor. She and Elin made their way back to where they’d left Kirsten and found her sitting with two young Swedish men in their early twenties. Sofia had seen them last night on the ferry.

“Oh, here come my sisters,” Kirsten said when she saw them approaching. “Elin and Sofia, I want you to meet Eric and Hjelmer. They’re cousins from a village near Stockholm, and they’re on their way to America, too.”

“Pleased to meet you, ladies,” Eric said, tipping his hat.

“Isn’t it lucky that there are some other Swedes stranded here with us?” Kirsten asked. “At least we’ll have someone to talk to besides the trolls.”

The boys seemed very friendly and nice, but Sofia could tell by Elin’s tight-lipped expression that she was angry. “Excuse me; I don’t mean to be rude,” Elin said, “but would you gentlemen mind sitting someplace else? There’s something I need to discuss with my sisters. In private.”

“
Ja,
sure . . . we can move.” But they took their time doing it. The one named Eric looked offended.

“Nice meeting you,” Hjelmer said as he slouched away.

Kirsten glared at Elin until the men were out of earshot, her body tensed as if waiting to lash out at her. “What is wrong with you, Elin? Why did you send them away?”

“Because we don’t know anything about them. You have no idea what they’re really like.”

“So? That’s why I was talking to them—to find out what they’re like! They’re far from home, too, just like we are. What can it hurt if we make friends with them and—”

“What can it
hurt
?” Elin said angrily. “We’re all alone, Kirsten. It’s dangerous to talk to strangers—”

“Eric and Hjelmer aren’t dangerous! They’re as nice as can be. If you’d stop being so suspicious of everyone and talk to them, you’d see.”

“Sure, we’ll make friends with these men and then we’ll never see them again! Haven’t we said enough good-byes?”

For a moment, Kirsten looked stunned, then hurt. “
Ja
. . . Thank you very much for reminding me,” she said bitterly. She folded her arms as if hugging herself, and slumped back on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” Elin said, “but we can’t talk to strangers.” She turned away and sat down on one of the benches across from them, leaving Kirsten and Sofia sitting side by side.

Sofia still felt dangerously close to tears, even after her bout of crying in the washroom. She didn’t trust herself to talk. But Kirsten kept up an angry monologue, muttering alongside her.

“How does she think we’re ever going to find husbands once we get to America? Won’t they
all
be strangers? She’s so stupid sometimes. We’re all going to end up old maids because Elin will never let us talk to
anyone
.”

Sofia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Will being orphans make it hard to find husbands in America, too?”

“I don’t know . . . but at least no one there will know how Papa died.”

“What do you mean? Papa fell through the ice. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Um . . . nothing. Forget it.” Kirsten quickly turned away, but not before Sofia glimpsed the guilty look on her face. She was hiding something.

“No, I won’t forget it. You’re not telling me the truth, Kirsten. Stop treating me like a baby.”

“Stop acting like one.”

“I have a right to know everything!”

She was surprised when Kirsten wiped a tear. “I can’t, Sofia. I just found out myself, and . . . and it hurts too much.”

Sofia waited. “Please tell me,” she said softly.

Kirsten exhaled. She was quiet for such a long time that Sofia thought she would have to shake the truth out of her. But at last Kirsten spoke. “People . . . people were saying that Papa went out on the ice on purpose. That he wanted to die.”

“That’s not true!”

“
Ja
, Sofia. I think it is.”

“Papa would never leave us all alone. . . . Not on purpose!”

“Don’t you remember how sad he was all the time? How he hardly ever spoke to us? I think he wanted to die.”

“No . . . no, no, no . . .” Sofia shook her head, unwilling to believe what Kirsten was saying. But somewhere deep inside she knew it was true. Kirsten pulled Sofia into her arms, hugging her fiercely.

“That’s why he wasn’t buried in the church cemetery. And that’s why we had to leave town. Everyone thinks that what Papa did is a terrible sin, and his shame would have always hung over us.”

Sofia thought she had exhausted all her tears, but the ugly truth made her cry even harder than before. Elin sprang from her bench across from them.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I told her about Papa.”

“Kirsten!”

“She has a right to know, Elin.”

At last Sofia drew back and wiped her cheeks. She pinned Elin with an accusing look. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“Th-there’s nothing else, Sofia.” But Elin wouldn’t meet her gaze.

They spent the night in the train station, forced to sleep on hard wooden benches for a second time. Sofia and Kirsten both lay down, using their shawls for pillows, but Elin sat on the bench between them, writing in her diary.

Sofia tried to pray, but her prayers went nowhere, floating around the train station’s high arched ceiling like smoke, unable to escape. She felt utterly alone, even with Elin and Kirsten right beside her.

Chapter Seven

E
XHAUSTION NUMBED
E
LIN
. They had only traveled for three days, but it felt like three years. The weight of responsibility she carried made it seem as though she had hauled her sisters on her back the entire way. She might as well have. Hadn’t she dragged Sofia against her will every step of the way? And Kirsten had been uncooperative, too. They were both asleep on the long bench beside her, but Elin was afraid to close her eyes. Strangers surrounded them in the huge train station, and it must be obvious to anyone paying attention that she and her sisters were traveling alone.

She looked down at Sofia and brushed away the strands of fine golden hair that lay tangled across her cheek. Elin’s earliest memory was of the day Sofia was born. Elin had been nearly four years old, and when she heard her mother suffering in childbirth she’d been angry with the new baby for causing so much pain. Afterward, Mama allowed Elin to come into the room. Tiny Sofia lay asleep in Mama’s arms, and the love in her eyes as she gazed down at Sofia made Elin burn with jealousy. She wanted to push Sofia onto the floor and take her place. Then Mama looked up at Elin.

“Would you like to hold your new baby sister?” she asked.

Mama hadn’t waited for Elin’s reply but quickly arranged a place for her to sit, leaning against the pillows. Elin still remembered the warm weight of her tiny sister and the sensation of Sofia’s body against her own, alive and squirming. Elin stroked the pale-blond fuzz that covered Sofia’s head. She looked vulnerable and fragile.

“You’re her big sister, Elin,” Mama said. “She will need you to look after her. Sofia and Kirsten both need you.”

In an instant Elin felt strong. She didn’t want to let Mama down. Elin and her sisters were bound together in that moment with invisible cords that had shrunk like new cotton cloth as the years passed, gripping them ever tighter. Even if Elin had wanted to break the bonds, she couldn’t imagine her life without Sofia and Kirsten. They were part of her, part of Mama and Papa, and she had to stay strong for their sakes. She would protect them, watch over them, and find a safe home for all of them in America.

The train station grew gloomy as the night wore on, tempting Elin to sleep. Instead, she sifted through her memories in an effort to stay awake, remembering happier times on the farm when they had all been together. But in the darkest part of the night Elin’s thoughts strayed to Uncle Sven. The things he had done seemed to belong to the realm of darkness and secrets. Shame shivered through her. She pushed away all thoughts of him—the way she should have pushed Uncle Sven away right from the beginning. She shouldn’t have needed him. She should have known better.

As soon as the sun rose, the station began to fill with people rushing around like ants on spilled sugar as they raced to catch their trains. When her sisters woke up, they took turns guarding the trunk and going into the washroom to splash water on their faces. Then Elin got out the
knäckebröd
and cheese and potato sausage they had brought from home and fixed a quick breakfast. Tears filled Sofia’s eyes as she looked at the food.