Until We Reach Home (4 page)

The beasts had tamed down a bit after Aunt Karin and Uncle Sven had moved to the farm, but the moment Elin had shown her the tickets to America, Sofia felt her fear and sorrow growing into giant monsters that followed her everywhere with their bristling claws and jagged teeth. She wished she knew how to make them go away.

By the time the wagon reached the village, the sun had started to elbow through the clouds. Sofia longed to jump off as Kirsten had done and run to the cemetery behind the church to see her mother’s grave one last time. Instead, she bid a silent good-bye to the church and the graveyard, to the wooden schoolhouse that she and her sisters had attended, to the tidy stores that lined the main street. It was market day, and the villagers went about their business as usual, setting up their booths in the square, laying out cheese and eggs for sale.

Kirsten slid off the wagon again before it came to a halt at the station. “I’ll be right back,” she called.

“No, come back here,” Elin yelled. “You’ll miss the train!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hear the whistle.”

Sofia jumped down from the wagon behind Kirsten. “Wait for me! I’m coming with you.” If Kirsten had suddenly decided to stay behind, then Sofia would stay, too. She lifted her hem above the mud and hurried to catch up with Kirsten, still clutching the bouquet of wild flowers, ignoring Elin’s protests.

Kirsten looked annoyed to see Sofia running along behind her. “Why are you following me? Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m not getting on the train to America unless you do.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m getting on the train. We can’t change our minds now. I . . . I just need to say good-bye to someone.”

“Can we go to the cemetery afterward? I want to see Mama’s grave one last time.” With any luck, they would both miss the train.

“Fine,” Kirsten said, grabbing Sofia’s hand. “Come on.”

She towed her down the walkway, hurrying through the market area without stopping to greet anyone. If Kirsten was heading toward the church, she was taking the long way around, passing the row of stores on the main street instead of taking the more direct route. She halted abruptly in front of Magnusson’s General Store, where the owner’s son, Tor, was sweeping the wooden sidewalk with a broom.

“Good-bye, Tor,” Kirsten said primly. “We’re leaving for America today, and you’ll never see me again. Ever. As soon as the train comes we’re leaving, and we’re never coming back.”

She whirled around before Tor could reply and strode away, walking so quickly that Sofia could barely keep up with her. She thought she saw Kirsten wiping her eyes. Tor returned to his task.

Kirsten didn’t stop until they reached their mother’s grave. “Hurry up and say good-bye,” she told Sofia, “or we’ll miss our train.”

Tears filled Sofia’s eyes as she knelt to place the wilting wild flowers on the grass. This was the last time she would ever be able to visit her mother. Sofia had come here to pray every week since Mama died and had spent the last month of Sundays—ever since the tickets had come—begging Mama to talk to Jesus and arrange a miracle so they could all stay in Sweden. His miracle had better come quickly.

She looked up at Kirsten, who was waiting with crossed arms. “How can we leave Mama?”

“She isn’t here, you know,” Kirsten said impatiently. “She’s in heaven. She can’t hear you talking to her.”

Sofia’s temper flared. “How do you know whether or not she can hear me?”

“Well, if she can, then I’m sure she’ll hear you in America, too. Come on.” She started walking back toward the cemetery gate.

“You have no feelings at all, Kirsten!” Sofia yelled as she struggled to her feet. “Your heart is just one big block of ice!”

They jogged back to the station, and by the time they arrived, panting from exertion, Elin was so angry she turned her back and refused to speak to them. When Kirsten sank down on a bench to wait, Sofia deliberately chose a different bench, staring up at Elin’s turned back. It was Elin’s fault that they were leaving. Kirsten’s, too.

Uncle Sven roamed the platform as he waited for the train to arrive, raking his fingers through his hair and peering down the tracks as if eager to be rid of them and get on with his day. Sofia felt like a prisoner, banished into exile for a crime she didn’t commit.

When the train whistle finally sounded in the distance, Sofia feared she might throw up. She looked over at Kirsten as the train rumbled to a stop and silently pleaded with her to change her mind and stay here. Kirsten’s cheeks were very pink and her braids had already begun pulling loose from the pins, but she picked up her satchel and stood.

“Good-bye, girls,” Uncle Sven said above the sound of the thundering train. “Godspeed.”

He reached out to embrace them, but Elin walked away. Sofia went willingly into his arms.

“You can stay here with me, little one,” he told her. “You don’t have to leave.” He had tried to convince her to stay with him from the moment Elin first told him about the tickets, but Elin had remained steadfast, insisting that Sofia come with her.

“Thank you,” Sofia told her uncle now, “but I have to go with my sisters.”

“Come on, Sofia,” Elin called. She reached for her hand and clutched it tightly as they walked toward the train. This was it. They were really, truly leaving home and never coming back.

“Good-bye,” Sofia tried to say, but it came out in a whisper. “Good-bye . . .”

Chapter Four

T
HE TRAIN RUMBLED
and hissed like a dragon as Elin walked toward it, clutching her sister’s hand. Sofia wept aloud, and even Kirsten was sniffling and wiping her eyes. But Elin was so relieved to know that she would never see Uncle Sven again for as long as she lived that she didn’t shed a single tear.

She helped Sofia climb aboard, then guided her down the aisle between the rows of seats. Kirsten had boarded ahead of them and had found a pair of seats that faced each other. “Ride backwards with me, Sofia,” she said. “You’ll be able to see more.”

Sofia shook her head and leaned against Elin for comfort. When the whistle suddenly shrieked, Sofia yelped in fear. Elin hugged her close. None of them had traveled on a train before.

“We’re going to be just fine,” Elin soothed. “You’ll see.”

She did her best to put on a brave show for her sisters, but there was a cold place inside her that she didn’t think would ever be warm again. It was too late to change her mind. She couldn’t turn back. She wondered if Papa had felt this way as the ice had splintered beneath his feet and he’d plunged into the dark, bottomless lake.

Elin still couldn’t believe she was leaving home. She loved their little farm, as poor and shabby as it was, loved the woods and streams and gentle hills that surrounded her family’s land. They had worked so hard after Mama died to keep it running. Mama used to say that a woman’s most precious treasures were her home and her family, and Elin believed it with all her heart. But she couldn’t stay. She had to take Kirsten and Sofia someplace safe. They still didn’t know the real reason they were leaving home. No one did.

Kirsten shoved open her window and leaned out, gazing behind them as the train steamed from the station, watching their village and neighboring farmland fade into the dwindling mist behind them. Tears trailed down her cheeks. Elin faced the opposite direction, toward their future, refusing to look back. “We’ll be fine. Just fine,” she said, although she doubted if Sofia believed her.

Grief numbed Elin—it probably numbed all of them. She watched the scenery race past, wanting to memorize her homeland. America might look very different.

“It’s getting cold in here,” Elin said as time passed. Sofia was rubbing her arms to warm herself. “You’d better close the window, Kirsten.”

She tugged it shut and sat down again. They had been traveling for more than an hour, but tears still rolled slowly down Kirsten’s cheeks.

“Are you all right?” Elin asked her.

Kirsten wiped her face with the heels of her hands. “I’m fine. The cool air made my eyes water.”

“I hear there are a lot of unmarried men in America,” Elin said, trying to make Kirsten smile. Instead, her temper flared.

“There were plenty of unmarried men in our village, too, but none of them would ever marry us. Not with everyone in town whispering about us the way they did and saying that—” Kirsten glanced at Sofia and stopped short. Sofia still didn’t know that their father’s death hadn’t been an accident. But Kirsten had already said too much.

“What do you mean?” Sofia asked. “Why were people whispering about us? Tell me what you’re talking about.” Elin was trying to find a way to avoid Sofia’s questions when Kirsten gave her a way out.

“I don’t want to talk about getting married,” she said.

“Later,” Elin whispered to Sofia, holding a finger to her lips. Hopefully, Sofia would forget by then.

They lapsed into silence again, miles apart from each other even though they sat with their knees and shoulders touching. Elin had never traveled this far from home in her life. None of them had. As the hours slipped by and the train carried them farther and farther away, the landscape slowly began to change, looking more and more unfamiliar. Elin closed her eyes, wanting to remember home, afraid she would forget what it looked like.

“Are you sleeping?” Kirsten asked after a while.

“No, just resting.” Elin straightened up and reached for the satchel of food they had packed. “Does anybody want lunch?”

Kirsten shook her head.

“No thank you,” Sofia said.

Elin knew by Sofia’s prim reply that she was still angry with them for not answering her questions. Sofia could nurse a grudge longer than anyone Elin knew.

Kirsten stood and moved into the aisle to stretch. “I think I’ll go exploring. Come with me, Sofia.”

“No thank you.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to roam around,” Elin said.

“Why not? I can’t get lost unless I fall off the train, can I?”

“That’s not the point. We don’t know what sorts of people are aboard. You’d better stay here.”

Kirsten turned away and stalked down to the end of the aisle. Elin held her breath, hoping her sister wouldn’t try to open the door and go into the next passenger car. But Kirsten turned around and paced the length of their car in the other direction before returning to her seat and sinking onto it with a huff.

Why did Kirsten and Sofia have to be so difficult—now, of all times? For months Elin had felt sick with worry, afraid to believe that they really would be able to escape. Protecting her sisters from Uncle Sven had been an exhausting ordeal requiring constant vigilance. But now she had exchanged a known fear for a host of unknown ones. What if Uncle Lars turned out to be even more of a monster than Uncle Sven had been?

But no, Uncle Lars had paid for all of their tickets and made all of the arrangements. He would lift this heavy burden from Elin’s shoulders and provide a new home for all three of them. The promise of rest and relief and a roof above her head had kept Elin going. If only her sisters could understand this and be grateful for the choices she had made instead of sulking.

She handed Kirsten a chunk of
knäckebröd
from the food bag. Sofia shook her head when Elin offered her some. “At least eat a little bite,” Elin insisted, pushing a small piece into Sofia’s hands. “The mice will eat it if you don’t.”

Sofia reluctantly nibbled a piece. Elin didn’t feel much like eating, either. The pain in her stomach made her feel as though she’d swallowed a pile of rocks.

“Will the bread taste the same in America?” Sofia asked after a moment.

“Of course, silly.” Elin elbowed her gently in the ribs. “The person who bakes it determines the taste, not the place where it’s baked.”

Tears dropped onto Sofia’s uneaten bread. “I’m going to hate America.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Kirsten said. “If you’re going to be this grouchy for the rest of your life, I’ll pay to send you back to Sweden myself. Do you think this is easy for any of us?” Elin heard suppressed tears in Kirsten’s voice.

“Listen, a few months from now we’ll be glad we left this place,” Elin said. “You didn’t want to be Aunt Karin’s servant for the rest of your life, did you? Wiping her children’s runny noses and soggy bottoms?”

“At least Aunt Karin let us get up and walk around,” Kirsten said. “Now we get to be your servant.”

“Could we please stop fighting with each other?” Elin said with a sigh. “Please?”

Sofia sniffled in reply. Kirsten tore off another piece of the crusty bread and chewed it slowly.

“Who invited Uncle Sven and Aunt Karin to move in with us, anyway?” Kirsten asked with her mouth full. “We were doing just fine on our own but as soon as they moved in, everything changed. It’s supposed to be Nils’ farm, you know. They stole it from him.”

“Nils said he didn’t want it,” Sofia said. “I heard him say it. I guess he didn’t want to be bothered with us, either.”

“Well, that’s all in the past,” Elin said, waving her hand. “We’re going to look forward from now on, not over our shoulders. Uncle Lars must be very rich over there in America if he could buy all of these tickets for us. And he was Mama’s favorite brother. He’ll treat us like his very own daughters, not servants.”

“I’ll bet we’ll never have to work another day in our lives,” Kirsten said. “We won’t have to milk the cows if we want a glass of milk, and we won’t have to push the chickens off their nests whenever we want eggs. Everything will come from the shops.”

“What will we do all day?” Sofia asked. Her soft voice reminded Elin of falling snowflakes.

“Nothing. We’ll be just like Mrs. Olsson in the village, with serving girls to do all our work.” Kirsten slouched languidly across the seat, pretending to lift a teacup with her pinkie finger extended.

“Kirsten! Your petticoats are showing,” Elin said, tugging her skirt down over her ankles.

Kirsten ignored her. “Before long, we’ll forget that we ever lived in a smoky old cottage on a run-down farm.”

“It wasn’t run-down!” Sofia said.

“Fine. Believe whatever you want.” Kirsten sat up and rearranged her skirts with a huff. “Pretty soon we’ll forget all of those stupid, ugly people in that stupid, ugly town.”