The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) (13 page)

             
Karlijna was surprised that the food was palatable. She had expected it to be tasteless.

             
“This bread is good,” she looked inside her sandwich, “and I like the pepper in the sausage.”

             
Michael smiled at her and waggled his eyebrows, “Would anything have tasted bad to you now?”

             
“I was not starving, Michael. Not yet, anyhow.”

             
“Your brother is older than you, right?”

             
Karlijna appreciated the present use of verbs, though she realized there was little chance Benard still lived.

             
“Yes. He would have been nineteen last week.”

             
Michael put his sandwich down, “Was the day difficult for you?”

             
Karlijna nodded, “It was. As was Veronike's birthday. She was to have been five in October.”

             
“Does it do more harm to speak of them?  I don't have to know anything, but I’ll listen.”

             
“It helps if I remember them in the good times – before the war.”

             
Michael picked up his sandwich, “So tell me something good.”

             
Karlijna thought for a moment, “The day Veronike was born it was raining very hard. My mother told me to run for my father, but I did not want to leave her and Benard was not yet back from school. My mother was quite disgusted with me, but she didn't continue to order me to my father. She told me to look out the window to watch for Benard.

             
“Did he get there on time?”

             
“Oh, yes,” Karlijna continued, “He arrived soon, went to get our father, and then came back. I never wanted to leave my mother's side, so my parents let me stay in her room. Veronike was not born until very early the next morning.”

             
“Were you still with your mother?”

             
“I was, but I had long since fallen asleep. I didn't even wake up through the delivery.”

             
Michael laughed, “I guess you must be the one who is a heavy sleeper.”

             
Karlijna nodded, “I used to be, but since we left our home, I have become a much lighter sleeper.”

             
“I hope you will begin to sleep better soon.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Karlijna slept in the lounge on the way over. Michael hardly did.  He sat at her feet, watching her as she reclined on a sofa in the back corner.

             
Karlijna woke up to a pitch black room; she sat up – panicked.

             
“Shh,” Michael touched her foot with a gentle hand, “they've turned the lights out.”

             
Karlijna put her feet down and slid closer to him, “Why?”

             
Michael eased his arm around her and spoke into her ear, “We're hiding from the planes. Don't worry.”

             
She turned her mouth toward his ear, “Prayer is more effective.”

             
The ship continued its progress through the water and soon the lights turned back on. Michael removed his arm from her shoulder, and she scooted away from him.

             
“How much longer until we get to England?”

             
“We're actually entering at Edinburgh – that is in Scotland.”

             
“Scotland?” Karlijna wondered if he had told her of this part of the plan, “Why?”

             
“We have some . . .formalities. . .to deal with before we can get you out of Great Britain.”

             
“Formalities?” Karlijna could tell he didn't want to tell her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

             
“I can tell you, but it will be easier for you if you don't know.”

             
Karlijna opened her mouth to object, but closed it again.

             
Michael shot her a questioning glance.

             
“I've said I trust you. Now it is time to put actions to my words. You know what the circumstance is, and you say this is the best way.  I will have to trust that.”

             
“Thank you, Karlijna.”

             
He brought her to a building that looked like a courthouse. She had never been inside one before, but she imagined one would look very like the room in which she sat with Michael. They waited until Michael’s name was called and went to stand before a pleasant-looking man. He asked her a few questions, but she had difficulty understanding him. Though he was speaking in English, he was not pronouncing the words in a way that was familiar to her.

             
Michael turned to translate, “He asked if you wish to go with me, Karlijna.”

             
She smiled at the man and nodded vigorously, “Yes, I do.”

             
The man beamed at her and said something else.

             
Michael nodded and agreed as well. Karlijna wondered what he had to agree to as he was obviously not going home with her.

             
The man said something else with a slight chuckle. Michael looked a bit chagrined before pulling her into a quick hug.

             
Karlijna didn’t resist despite her surprise.

             
They had some papers to sign and then they left the building.

             
“Why was it so hard to understand him?” she asked as they walked toward their hotel. “I thought my English was improving.”

             
“He has a very thick Scottish accent,” Michael assured her. “It was even a little hard for me to understand everything he said.”

             
The day after Christmas, Karlijna was on a military airplane flying over the Atlantic Ocean.  Having never flown, she wondered at this kind of transportation. The seating was uncomfortable, and the ride was very rough. She was the only civilian on the plane, and, more than once, she caught the eyes of the other passengers, both the men and the women, studying her.

Most of the people were either wounded military or nur
ses on board to care for them. Karlijna wished there was something she could do to help but didn’t know what. Some of the men seemed unaware of their surroundings, and she supposed they had suffered head trauma.

For a good portion
of the day, the plane flew on. The young passenger tried not to think of the miles of sea beneath her, nor of the enemy ships always anxious to remove a plane from the sky. Night fell and a ripple went through the passengers. They would be landing within the hour.

Karlijna gathered her two pieces of luggage to herself as the plane touched down in Connecticut.  She knew she was to report to the person in charge as soon as she got off the pl
ane. Michael had told her where she would find him.

With no trouble at all, the young lady was able t
o locate the Captain’s office. He called to her to enter as soon as she knocked. Rather than speaking, she handed him her papers. Michael had said they would explain everything.

The man glanced at
what she gave him and nodded. He then said something to her, but she couldn’t catch the words.

“I am sorry,” she interrupted
him, “My English is not vell. Please speak more slow.”

“Okay,” he agreed, seeming a little annoyed, his voice got louder as he talked, “You need
to wait with the other wives. There will be a train heading to Chicago soon.”

Karlijna tried not to panic.
He needed to know she was not a wife and that she was going to Minnesota, not Chicago. 

She tried to explain, “I am going to Minnesot
a to be vith Michael’s family. They won’t know to get me from,” she tried the word, “Shee-ca-go.”

Another man entered and asked
the captain what was going on. Again, the captain spoke quickly, pointing at Karlijna while he enlightened the other soldier. Karlijna caught Michael’s name, Minnesota, and Chicago.

The newcomer t
urned to her and spoke slowly. His voice was kind, “Do you speak English at all?”

“Yes,” she nodded as well, “but I listen slow.”

“You’re going to Minnesota?”

“Yes,” she was relieved.

“Chicago is on the way to Minnesota.”

She smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he retrieved the paperwork from the captain and  took her elbow, “you can wait here with the other wives.”

He showed her into a room filled
with women and a few children. She thought to tell him she was not a wife only after he had left her to help someone else.

Sitting down on a hard b
ench she swallowed back a sigh. Though the trip had been more pleasant than the frightening train rides she took just a year ago, she was still apprehensive about her journey and destination.

Forcing her mind from the unpleasantness of those memories, Karlijna thought b
ack to her last day in Sweden. She had said goodbye to all her friends in the village and was packed to leave. She intended to spend the remaining few hours visiting only with Leif and Ingrid, but a knock on the door after supper had changed her design.

“Mr. Sodergaard,” Ingrid’s voice held a mixture of surprise and distaste when she opened her kitchen door.

“May I come in, Mrs. Anderson?”

She did not answer but opened the
door wider and stepped aside. He stepped through the doorway.

“Karlijna,” he held his hat in his hand, “I have come to apologize. . .again.”

Karlijna shook her head, “Thank you, but it is not necessary. You have already given your regrets. There is no more to be said on the subject.”

The man laid his hat on the table and withdrew an envelope from his breast pocket, “I received this yesterday.”

Karlijna took what he offered her and removed the letter from within.  It was written in French and then translated in Swedish at the bottom. Karlijna’s eyes widened as she read.

Dear Sir,

I have received news of the most disturbing kind.  A respected member of your community has informed me that there are being spread slanderous lies about myself and the young lady in your employ. This person has detailed what is being said about Miss Bergstrom.

You know, Mr. Sodergaard, that this is a great lie.  You are aware that nothing untoward ever occurred bet
ween myself and your employee. This is the case for two reasons: one, that I am a gentleman and, two, that we were never alone together.

I suspect your sister, whose behavior during my stay bordered on improper, began the rumors because of my rude treatment of
her.  I do not apologize for my behavior toward her except how it has harmed a true lady.  To treat Miss Sodergaard kindly would have given her reason to hope affection from me.

I would that this letter be
published in your newspaper. If you do not take it upon yourself, others will as I have sent copies of this letter to two esteemed people of your community.

S
incerely,

Armand Beauchamp

Karlijna looked up, eyes wide, at her former boss. 

“I hope you know,” she croaked out, “I was not the one who sent him the letter.”

Mr. Sodergaard shook his head, “I did not think you were. It would be beneath you.”

Leif
and Ingrid were now reading the letter with as much amazement as Karlijna had felt.

“I’m begging you, Miss Bergstrom,” he spoke through tense lips, “Please do not let this letter be printed.”

Karlijna shook her head in confusion, “What am I to do? I do not even know who sent news to him, much less who has the other copies of this letter.”

Mr. Sodergaard took her statement as willingness to help, “You must go to Mr. Sp
ilde, the editor of the paper. He will not print it if you ask him.”

Ingrid rose abruptly and planted her fists on her hips, “How dare you come here and ask such a thing,”
Leif touched her arm, but she was not to be calmed.  “At your sister's and your hands, this girl has suffered humiliation, lost her income, and been unable to find employment. She is now leaving the area because you have allowed the slander to continue. Now you ask for her help,” she pointed to the door, “Leave my home at once.”

Mr. Sodergaard rose and turned to the
door, but Karlijna stopped him.

“Wait,” she took her coat from where it was draped over a kitchen chair, “I will go to Mr. Spilde.”

“What?” Ingrid’s voice raised in protest.

“
Leif,” she turned to her friend, “will you come with me?”

Ingrid looked at her husband and kn
ew he would accompany the girl. She folded her arms across her chest and turned from him.

Mr. Spilde was in his office when
Leif and Karlijna entered.

“Mr. Anderson,” the man barely glanced up before returning to the greasy-looking piece of metal on his desk, “what can I do for you?”

              “Mr. Spilde,” Karlijna spoke up, “I have a matter I would like to discuss with you.”

             
The man kept working, “Discuss it then, Miss Bergstrom.”

Karlijna was taken aback, “How did you know my name?”

He grunted, “I make it my business to know who everybody is, especially if they’re going to make the news.”

The girl sat down across from him, “That is just what I had hoped to talk about, Mr. Spilde.  I don’t wish to be in the news.”

“I guess you wouldn’t, but your name has been passed around for the last couple months without any proof behind the slander. Don’t worry,” he looked up long enough to raise his eyebrow at her, “tomorrow’s news is going to be better.”

“I know about the letter, Mr. Spilde,” she decided to speak plainly.

“You do, eh?” he continued to tinker with the object in front of him.  “How?”

“M
r. Sodergaard showed it to me. Please,” she needed to get on with her purpose, “don’t print the letter.”

The man stopped working and really looked at the girl for the first time since her entrance.

“Did he offer you money?” he asked after a few moments contemplation.

“No!” Karlijna was appalled at the very thought.

“Why? The letter will clear you of all suspicion and put those two liars in their place.”

Karlijna shook her head, “It is not going to help anything to repay their actions with evil of my own.  It could hurt M
r. Sodergaard’s business. If you care nothing for him, think of the men who will lose their jobs should his business fail.”

Mr. Spilde
rocked a little in his chair. He was quiet for some time.

             
“Normally,” he took off his wire-rimmed glasses and met her eyes, “I don’t get involved in the gossip around town. A newsman has to be able to be objective. But the things people have been saying about you have been pretty bad. Don’t you want me to end that if I can?”