The Lily Pond (12 page)

“May I please have a glass of milk first?”

Aunt Märta nods. “Would you like me to heat it up?”

The milk smells sweet and mild. Stephie sniffs at the steam rising from the cup before she takes a sip. The smooth warmth spreads from her stomach to her whole body.

Aunt Märta has lit the wood-burning stove. The heat in the kitchen fogs up the windows. The sound of the rain outside combines with the crackling of the burning wood and the soft scrape of Aunt Märta’s peeling potatoes for dinner.
Soon they’ll be sitting at the table: Stephie, Aunt Märta, and Uncle Evert. Like a family.

She spends Sunday morning with Vera. In the afternoon she and Aunt Märta and Uncle Evert go to Auntie Alma’s. Since the
Diana
is not out fishing, Auntie Alma’s husband, Uncle Sigurd, is also at home. While the grown-ups sit around the table, Stephie goes up to Nellie’s room with her.

“Stephie?” Nellie asks. “Do you think God loves Mamma and Papa?”

“Of course he does,” says Stephie. “Why wouldn’t he?”

She has to bite her tongue to resist adding, “If there is a God, of course.”

May doesn’t believe in God. Stephie isn’t sure about him herself. But she doesn’t say anything about it to Nellie.

“Well, because Mamma and Papa don’t believe in Jesus,” Nellie says. “I was thinking that was why God isn’t looking after them. Because they—what are the words?—have denied God’s only begotten son?”

“Who’s been putting ideas like that into your head?” asks Stephie. She knows Nellie could never have come up with anything like that herself.

“The new parson.” Nellie frowns. “He says the Jews murdered Jesus and that God is angry with them for it. Stephie, are we still Jews even though we’ve been redeemed?” Her big brown eyes are glassy, and her bottom lip is trembling.

“Yes,” Stephie tells her. “We are Jews. And it’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. We didn’t murder Jesus. You didn’t,
I didn’t, and Mamma and Papa didn’t. Nobody we know did. That all happened two thousand years ago. And it’s nothing to blame people who are alive today for. One thousand years ago the Swedes were Vikings who pillaged and murdered wherever they went. Imagine trying to blame the Swedish people who are alive today for what the Vikings did. See what I mean? You mustn’t believe what the new parson has been telling you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“On your honor?”

Stephie looks Nellie right in the eye and says, “Honest to goodness.” Nellie looks relieved.

“Stephie?”

“Mmm?”

“I don’t like you living in Göteborg. I wish you still lived here.”

“But I can’t go to school here.”

Nellie thinks about that. “Couldn’t I move into the city with you, then?”

“You wouldn’t be happy there,” Stephie tells her. “You’d miss Auntie Alma and the little ones and your classmates. You’re much better off here.”

“I want us all to be together,” Nellie says. “You and me and Auntie Alma and Uncle Sigurd and Elsa and John and Sonja and everybody in my class except Mats, because he’s such a nuisance. And Aunt Märta and Uncle Evert and the
family you’re living with now and Vera and May or whatever her name is. And Mamma and Papa. I miss Mamma and Papa. I’m going to pray to God to arrange for them to come here.”

“Yes, do,” Stephie says, although she doesn’t really think God has much say in the matter. “Do that, Nellie.”

spreads over Göteborg like a wet gray blanket. The humidity rises off the river and the canals, and although it’s still above freezing, the winds are icy cold.

Darkness in the city is different from darkness on the island. It’s not black; it’s gray, lessened by all the city lights: streetlights and neon signs, the sharp glare from the street-level shop windows, and the gentler glow from the apartments upstairs. It never gets truly dark, but it’s never really light, either; dusk falls almost imperceptibly in the late afternoon.

The winter coat Stephie’s parents gave her before she left Vienna is getting snug. Her wrists are cold; she has to pull down the sleeves of her sweater to cover them. She wishes she could get a pair of gloves with long cuffs, like
most of the girls in the class have. She’s embarrassed about wearing the mittens Aunt Märta knitted. But she’s going to have to wear them soon, even on the schoolyard. Her hands are getting chapped and red from the cold.

Since the first time Stephie went to May’s after school, she has been going home with her once or twice a week. She helps May with her algebra, and May helps her with her Swedish. Sometimes she stays for dinner with May’s noisy, lively family. May’s father is very funny; his jokes make the children double up with laughter.

Every time Stephie walks between May’s door and the tram stop at Kaptensgatan, she’s on the lookout for Sven. Once, she thinks she sees him walking into the tavern, but she’s far away and knows she might be mistaking someone else for him.

One day in early November, Harriet and Lilian take her aside on the schoolyard.

“Has he kissed you yet?” Lilian asks.

“Nope.”

“Strange,” Harriet says, “considering he’s almost grown up.”

“He’s holding back for my sake,” Stephie lies. “Because I’m so young. He doesn’t want to do anything that might get me in trouble.”

“Oooh, how romantic,” Lilian replies. “Like in a movie.”

“Speaking of movies,” Harriet says, “they say the one that’s showing at the Lorensberg is really good.”

“What’s it called?” Stephie asks, mainly to change the subject.

“ ’Til We Meet Again,”
Harriet says. “A love story. But they let you in even if you’re under fifteen.”

“Want to go?” Lilian asks eagerly. “All three of us?”

“Sure,” says Harriet. “How about Saturday?”

Stephie hesitates. She knows that to Aunt Märta, going to the movies is worse than going to a concert. On the other hand, how would Aunt Märta ever find out if, just this once, she went to the movies in Göteborg?

“How much is it?” she asks.

“Ninety-two öre for the cheapest seats,” Harriet tells her.

Stephie has only fifty öre in her piggy bank. She’ll have to borrow another fifty and repay it from the allowance Mrs. Söderberg gives her every Sunday. But who can she borrow from? May never has any money, and anyway, Stephie wouldn’t want May to know she was going to the movies with Harriet and Lilian.

“Could I borrow fifty öre?” Stephie asks Sven.

“Sure. What are you going to buy?”

It would be easy to lie and say a book. But Sven would want to know what book, and he might ask her how it was later. She decides to tell it like it is.

“I’m going to the movies,” she says. “With two of my classmates.”

“What are you going to see?” Sven asks. “
The Grapes of Wrath
? It’s supposed to be really good. I’m going to see it.”

Stephie wishes that were the film she was going to.

“No,” she says.
“ ’Til We Meet Again.”

“Oh, a romance,” Sven says in a teasing voice. “What could you know about love? You’re only thirteen!”

“I might know more than you think.”

“Ah,” Sven replies. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

Wishing she hadn’t said anything, she doesn’t answer. If only she hadn’t told him the name of the film. And if only she hadn’t asked Sven to lend her the money.

“Some film star, I bet,” Sven continues. “Let me guess! Cary Grant? Leslie Howard? Maybe Clark Gable?”

“Cut it out!” Stephie says, ready to burst into tears. What on earth does he think of her?

“I was only joking,” Sven tells her. “Don’t get upset.”

When Saturday evening comes around, she combs her hair extra well and puts on her best dress, even though she knows no one will see it under her coat. They’re meeting outside the movie theater at a quarter to seven. It’s not far away, only on the other side of the main avenue.

She arrives in good time. There’s already a long line outside the door. The building is brightly lit and reminds
her of a Greek temple, with fluted columns on the facade. Stephie gets in line, and soon Lilian arrives, followed shortly by Harriet.

They buy their tickets and a bag of toffees to share. An usher in a uniform takes their tickets.

“Well, girls, I hope you have your handkerchiefs ready,” he says, smiling. “This one’s a real tearjerker.”

First come the newsreels, beginning with one about a bicycle race for delivery boys. The winner is Lasse, a freckle-faced young man with a crooked front tooth that stands out when he smiles and waves at the camera.

Then there’s a German newsreel from the war, showing an airfield near the English Channel and aircraft being loaded with bombs. When the planes take off, the camera follows them. The German planes search out an English fighter plane and shoot it down. In flames, the English plane nose-dives to the ground.

Stephie wonders if the pilot had time to parachute out. The cheery voice of the speaker doesn’t mention him.

The curtain closes and then opens again slowly to music, and the feature film begins.

A man who was condemned to death in San Francisco has escaped but is caught by a detective in Hong Kong. On board the ship that is to transport him back to be executed, he meets a beautiful woman, pale and dark-haired. She’s suffering from a fatal heart disease and doesn’t have long to live. They fall in love but don’t dare to reveal to each other that their days are numbered. When they embrace for the
last time, they both know they will never meet again, but each is trying so hard to spare the other’s feelings that they don’t speak of it.