The Wooden Chair (3 page)

Leini wished Mamma would come to hear her prayers, but tonight, as on so many other nights, she was alone. Mamma didn’t tuck her in or wish her good night. After she took off her glasses, she laid them carefully on the table, which was between Mamma’s bed and her own.

It was light outside when Leini crawled under the covers. She wriggled without disturbing the top sheet or blanket, liking to feel them hold her tight. With Maia, her rag doll, clutched against her breast she curled up in a ball, her back to the room. Her throat was tight; it ached from strange feelings she didn’t understand. Hugging Maia, she cried without making a sound.

What if Papi couldn’t find her once she left home?

Chapter 3

Helsinki, May 1943

“Wake up, Leini.” Her voice harsh, Mamma shook her by the shoulder. “Hurry and get dressed.”

Leini came instantly awake and sat in bed. She fumbled on the side table for her glasses and put them on. Mamma stood close, not in her usual housecoat, but wore a dress the color of sand. Her hair was combed off her forehead and twisted into a bun at the back of her head. Leini left her bed, whimpering from the chill in the room. The floor was so icy-cold she hopped from one foot to the other as she unbuttoned the pajama top.

“We’ve got a train to catch so don’t diddle.” Mamma pointed at the clothes she’d laid out on her own bed for Leini to wear. “Get ready, then come have your breakfast.”

Leini poked at the clothes, mouth puckered as if she’d swallowed a nasty pill. “Oh no, Mamma. Not long stockings. They scratch.”

“Don’t
‘No, Mamma
’ me. It may not be warm in the north where we’re going, so do as you’re told. And make it snappy.” In the doorway, she turned. “If we miss this train, there won’t be another. This is our last chance out of Helsinki.”

Leini pulled at the elastic bands sewn on her undershirt, fastening them to buttons high on the thigh, back and front on each stocking. Most of the time the stockings puckered at the ankles and knees. And they made her skin itch.

“Where are we going?”

“To a godforsaken place called Veteli.”

“Where’s that?” Leini thought if she knew where they were going it would help Papi find her.

Mamma shrugged, turned her back and left the bedroom.

Fully dressed, Leini entered the kitchen and sat at the table with Maia squeezed under her arm. She stared at the gruel in front of her that Mamma had spooned into the bowl before she woke Leini. The slithery-slimy film covering it made her want to gag. The milk in the glass was so skimmed of cream it was bluish.

“Eat,” Mamma grunted over her shoulder. She stood by the kitchen counter, a ray of early morning sunshine playing on her hands. With her back to the room, she wrapped pieces of bread, radishes and turnips in wax paper. “God only knows when and where we’ll eat again.” She poured yesterday’s leftover soup into two thermos flasks.

Leini nibbled with stiff lips at a spoonful of gruel.
“Mamma, where’s Vete…where we’re going?”

Mamma lit a cigarette. “Your grandpa’s rented rooms for us in a farmhouse in Veteli.” She spoke through a cloud of smoke as she put the wrapped food together with the flasks in a black-and-brown leather patchwork shopping bag. “It’s somewhere north, is all I know. You want to know more, ask your grandpa. He found this place and is paying for the train and our rent.”

Leini gazed at Mamma’s back. She often said that if Grandpa didn’t pay for all they needed they wouldn’t have anything now that Papi was in the war. “Everybody’s gone.” Mamma’s lips trembled. She dried her eyes on a hankie. “First Papi is taken to the front, then only days later Karl, my only brother, is in the military, too. Now I have nobody.”

Leini wanted to take Mamma’s sadness away. “But you have me.”

Mamma’s mouth was like a trumpet as she snorted.

Much as Leini tried to swallow the stale gruel, it stuck like paste to her palate. She took a sip of the thin milk. About to put down the glass, something funny happened to her eyes. She saw two edges of the table, missed, and the glass went crushing to the floor.

Mira whirled on her. “Leini! You miserable brat! Why did you do that?”

Leini recoiled, her whole body shaking from her Mamma’s angry voice. She hugged Maia hard and buried her face against the doll’s body, hiding her fear in its softness.

“I didn’t mean to do it, Mamma. I put it on the table, but it just dropped.”

“Don’t move.” Mamma shoved the chair to the side so violently it almost tipped over with Leini in it. Her mother bent and swept up the shards and mopped the spilled milk with a rag. While working, she mumbled to herself.

Leini caught snippets of her monologue. “Ungrateful brat” and “Kid’s my daily punishment.”

Leini concentrated on the food not to hear Mamma. She’d taught herself a trick. If she thought of something else when Mamma was very angry, she wasn’t so scared of her.

Mamma rinsed the rag and left it to dry on the sink. She pulled on her black gloves.

“I’ll go look and see if the transportation your grandpa arranged for has arrived to take us to the railway station. When you’re through with breakfast, wash up and stay inside. Do you hear?”

Leini nodded.

Mamma turned and walked through the living room. “I won’t be long,” she said before the door closed.

The minute the front door shut, Leini rushed into the bedroom. Lying on her belly on the floor, she wiggled under her bed. If they were going away, she must have her toys. She pulled out Björn, her teddy bear she loved to cuddle. Mamma said it was dirty and stank of sour milk and threatened to burn it, but Leini hid it under the bed. She wanted her baby doll Katie, the one with real hair—well, almost real. When she squeezed its tummy, it said “Mamma,” like a mewl. Katie had to have all her clothes, which Leini had arranged in a cardboard suitcase, each piece neatly folded, because she liked to see the tidy piles of clothing.

Leini crawled from under the bed and picked up Maia. To make sure they didn’t forget a thing, she brought her treasures into the hall next to the front door. She made one more trip to the bedroom and returned with the doll’s pram. Maybe they would never come back, so she must take everything with her.

When Mamma returned home, she threw a fiery glance at Leini’s preparations. Her grip on Leini’s neck was like a steel claw.

“What’s this?” Her voice sizzled as she forced Leini’s head down so close to the toys she was doubled over. “Where do you think you’re going with this stuff?”

“To Vete…Vete…”

“Not on your life.” Mamma pointed at the pile. “You can take one thing, no more.”

Leini looked at her mother’s face. It was closed and mean, eyes black, the painted mouth like a red slash.

Tears trickled down Leini’s face. Her glasses became blurry from crying, and she sniveled.

“Please, Mamma, just Björn and Katie. Please.” She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“The answer is
no
! There’s no room.”

Leini cried out in pain as Mama wrenched her arm away from her face.

“Haven’t I told you to use a hankie?” Mamma gave her the one from her sleeve. “Here, take this.” She thrust Maia at Leini and pointed at the bedroom. “You can take the doll, but you return the rest where you got it. Immediately, you hear?”

Leini blew her nose and tried to wipe her glasses, but only smudged them more.
Why doesn’t Mamma understand I can’t leave Björn and Katie? Without me they’ll be lonely and sad, just like me.

Mamma’s lips she squeezed together told Leini there was no point in begging. She trekked to the bedroom to put away the toys she must leave behind. Every now and then she sniveled, but if Mamma noticed she didn’t say anything.

As she followed Mamma into the street, Leini saw their carrier, a flat cart without railings, drawn by a horse. Mamma loaded their luggage on the cart. She lifted Leini on board before she grabbed the hand of the old driver to hoist herself up.

“I’m surprised Grandpa, with all his money, could find nothing better than this old fool and a half-dead nag to take us to the station.” Mamma sat on top of a suitcase and heaved a deep sigh. “Ah, well, I guess this is better than nothing.”

“Where to, Miss?” asked the driver.

“The railway station, and try to make it fast. We have a train to catch.”

Turning, he scowled at Mamma, showed a few stubs of teeth in his grinning mouth and muttered something Leini didn’t understand. Clicking his tongue, he snapped the reins against the horse’s back. With a jerk, the wagon
rolled along the cobblestone streets. Leini hadn’t thought about how long they’d be gone, but when she saw the number of suitcases and cartons on the wagon, she thought they might never return. Maybe she would never see her home again. It made her stomach feel like it was full of stones.

“Good heavens,” Mamma said when they reached the station. “How are we going to find your grandparents in this crowd?”

The station square was packed with people. Mamma stood on the cart and looked over the sea of women and children of all ages, who held on to their belongings packed in suitcases, cartons and crates. Most of the civilian population of Helsinki was being evacuated. Those unable to go to Sweden—because they didn’t have the means or knew nobody to take them in—crowded at the station in the hope of catching one of the last trains out of the capital. They brought with them all the belongings they could carry.

The crowd at the station was silent, barely a whisper reached Leini.

The severity of the situation muted people. They were leaving their homes; some left loved ones behind, unable or unwilling to travel. They didn’t know if they would have a home to return to. In fact, nobody knew if they would have a home country in the future.

Standing on the wagon, Mamma put both hands to her mouth like a trumpet. “Grandpa Benjamin! Hallo! Grandpa Benjamin!” she shouted several times.

“Mira. Over here.”

Leini grabbed the hem of Mamma’s dress and pulled. “I saw Grandpa’s cane.”

“Good. I didn’t see him, but I saw the cane, too.” Mamma climbed from the wagon. “He isn’t far. Stay right here and don’t let anybody steal our things.”

When Leini didn’t answer, Mira shook her shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Mamma…?” Leini wanted to ask if she would return to fetch her.

“Stay here.” Mamma turned and disappeared into the masses.

Leini put one foot on the wheel hub, grabbed hold of the twine on a carton and climbed onto the wagon. She sat on the edge and swung her feet, bumping the heels of her shoes against the wheel, hands tucked under her thighs, Maia safe under one arm. Mamma’s warning rang in her ears to be careful about the shoes, because new ones would be impossible to find. She stopped swinging her legs, stretched them to look at her sad-brown ribbed stockings, lips pursed as she saw them creased like sausages at the ankles and knees. “They never stay up,” she muttered and reached both hands under her coat and dress to pull them up.

It seemed a long time since Mamma left to find Grandpa. Leini was becoming impatient and scared. She moved restlessly on the hard seat.
Maybe Mamma won’t come back. Maybe she’s decided this is a good place to lose me
. Tears rolled from her eyes, again smudging her glasses. She removed them to wipe them with the hem of her dress. Without the glasses everything was hazy, and she didn’t see Grandpa until she heard him. With the glasses on again, she saw Grandma Britta was with him.

He lifted her in his arms and hugged her close to his chest. “There’s my little princess.” He perched her on his arm. “Whose favorite little girl are you?”

“Grandpa’s.” She hugged him around his neck and pressed her face to his cheek that was cool and perfumed from sweet lavender. “And Grandma Britta’s, too.” A hiccup got away from her as she bent low to exchange kisses and rub noses with her grandma, the way they always did whenever they met. Leini’s heart beat fast and happiness purred inside. Grandma Britta pulled a hankie from her coat pocket and wiped Leini’s cheeks.

She held the hankie to Leini’s nose. “Blow! No need to cry, my little dove.”

Leini swallowed a sob and smiled, feeling light from relief.

“I’m going to set you down,” said Grandpa. “We need to see about getting all this luggage on board. The train leaves soon.” From the pocket of his vest he took out a watch, held it close to Leini’s nose and pushed a small button to spring open the lid, which snapped against her nose. As always, the game amused her. She threw her head back and laughed.

It was a peal of laughter—like silver bells—so joyous and free, those who heard it smiled in spite of the serious moment they were all caught in.

Leini tugged at Grandpa’s coat. “What about Papi?” Determined not to cry, she swallowed. “Will Papi find us?”

Grandpa smiled into her upturned face and gently touched his fingers to the corners of her mouth that threatened to pull down. “Of course he will, my princess.”

With a suitcase in each hand he grunted as he swung them on board the train. Cartons followed. He lifted Leini by the waist. “Your turn now. Hold on to the rail once you’re on board so you don’t fall if the train should lurch.”

“Benjamin. Wait, Benjamin, Leini!”

Over Grandpa’s shoulder Leini saw a tall man, the gray uniform coat flapping below his knees as he ran to catch up with them, each footfall of the black boots a loud slap against the cobblestones.

Grandpa stood Leini on her feet on the platform. “Karl. Glad you made it.” The two men embraced and slapped each other’s backs. “And not a minute too soon. The train is about to leave.”

Karl leaned over Leini to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. “My little girl. I’m so happy I got here in time; I couldn’t let you go away without saying good-bye. And I wanted to give you a present. Here.” He handed her a square packet wrapped in white paper, tied with a string. “It’s something to help you pass the time on the train.” His coal-black eyes, so like Mamma’s, searched the crowd. “Where’s Mamma?”

“I’m here, Karl.” Mamma took the steps from the train so fast she stumbled.

Karl caught her around the waist and hugged her to him.