Until We Reach Home

  "Well. I'm Bettina Anderson. And as I was saying, I heard that Mother Anderson had hired some new girls and that they were very young-and it seems I heard correctly."

  Elfin realized that their employer's suspicions were true: The nurse, Agne, was an informant. Kirsten and Sofia, who had joined Elfin in the foyer, also came under Bettina Anderson's sharp scrutiny.

  "I hope that you prove to be more trustworthy than the last maid we hired. What sort of experience have you had as domestics? Who else have you worked for?"

  "No one, ma'am. Our experience comes from growing up on a farm, tending to all of the usual household chores."

  "But we do know how to scrub and dust and mop," Kirsten said, stepping forward. "Those aren't difficult skills."

  Elfin could tell that the woman's condescending tone was making Kirsten's temper rise. Bettina Anderson talked to them as if they were feeble-minded.

  "If you would like to look at the dining room, you'll see what kind of work we do," Kirsten said, gesturing to the doorway.

  "I can smell the silver polish-and the ammonia," Bettina said, wrinkling her nose. "Don't use too much of either. It makes the house stink."

  She strode across the foyer and halted in the archway that led to the dining room. Elfin expected to see a look of pleasure at the transformation they had accomplished. Instead, Bettina frowned, then turned to look at the shuttered salon across the hall.

  "You've been here a week and you've gotten only this far?"

  "We've only worked three and a half days, ma'am," Kirsten said. "And there was a great deal to do. All of that silver needed-"

  "Forget the silver. Your priorities are all wrong. Just take care of the worst of things and hide the dishes and silver away. In fact, you could have packed it all up. It will all have to be moved anyway."

  "We were told that Mrs. Anderson sometimes entertains dinner guests, and-"

  "That's nonsense. Now follow me," she said, marching across the hall, "and I'll give you your orders for the remainder of the week."

  Elfin didn't move. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, ma'am, but Mrs. Anderson is the one who hired us, and I believe that she should be the one to give the orders."

  Bettina whirled around to face her. "You are nothing but an inexperienced little farm girl. If it were up to me, I would fire you on the spot!"

  "Then I'm glad it isn't up to you," a voice boomed from the balcony above them. Their employer, Mrs. Anderson, was up and dressed and floating down the stairs with her cat and her cane. The animal walked regally by her side like a royal attendant. It was the first time, as far as Elfin knew, that Mrs. Anderson had been out of her room since they'd been hired.

  Bettina's frown quickly changed to a smile as she strode across the foyer to greet her. "You're looking much better, Mother Anderson."

  "That's because there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. In fact, you can take that sorry excuse for a nurse back home with you when you leave-which I hope is very soon."

  "You'll have to talk to Gustav about the nurse, not me. He's the one who hired her for you, Mother Anderson."

  "I would be happy to talk to my nitwitted son if he ever bothered to come over and visit me. Instead, he sends you over here to plague me."

  "Gustav is very busy. He has a newspaper to run."

  "He's busy running it into the ground, if you ask me."

  Mrs. Anderson made her way across the foyer, forcing Bettina to jump aside, then halted as she surveyed the dining room. Elfin held her breath, wondering what her reaction would be and if she would find fault with their work and fire them. The flat-faced cat wandered into the room, stopping to sniff some of the chair legs. Elfin hoped it didn't do its business on their handiwork. When Mrs. Anderson finished taking it all in, she turned on her daughter-in-law.

  "What did you think you were doing, criticizing my servants and ordering them around? They've done a splendid job on my dining room. I think I'll throw a dinner party to show it off."

  "When?" Bettina asked.

  "None of your business when. You won't be invited." She gave Kirsten a poke in the arm with her cane. "Go tell Mrs. Olafson to fix some coffee. I'll be in the morning room." She turned to Elfin next. "Now that the dining room is finished, I would like you girls to clean the main salon next, so it's presentable for my guests." She pointed to the enormous parlor with her cane, then limped away. Bettina Anderson and the cat trailed behind her.

  "She certainly has a huge voice for such a delicate little woman," Sofia whispered.

  "I noticed that, too." Elfin went into the parlor to assess the work, and what she saw dismayed her. The room was larger and filthier than the dining room had been. There were twice as many windows to wash, along with twice as many draperies to take down, wash, press, and rehang. The curtains were all drawn shut, making the darkened room feel even grimier. Yellowing sheets draped the furniture. Elfin was glad that the remnants of her illness were finally fading and that she was regaining her strength. She was going to need it.

  "Look ... a grand piano," Sofia said. She had lifted a corner of one of the sheets to uncover the beautiful ebony instrument. She tested a few of the keys, playing part of a scale, then lowered the cover again.

  "Let's get the ladder and take down these drapes first," Elin said. "Then we can at least see what we're doing."

  By the time they had taken down the last curtain an hour later, the cloud of dust in the room was making all three of them sneeze. Elfin could see particles floating in the sunbeams that managed to stream through the smeared windows.

  "Help me carry these out to the washhouse," she said, pointing to the mountain of curtains, "and I'll start washing the windows."

  She was bending to scoop up the first armful when Bettina Anderson strode into the room. The woman kept her voice low, but her face and tone were very stern as she shook her finger at Elin.

  "Now, you listen to me. There is a potential buyer coming to view the house next Saturday, and I want to see some progress by then. Get some work done, do you understand? And don't pay any attention to my mother-in-law if she tries to fire you. Keep working! I'll pay you the same wages that she's giving you."

  "But, ma'am, there are twenty rooms in this house and only three of us-"

  "Don't give me any excuses. This is a good prospective buyer, and I want this place sold!"

  Elfin waited until the front door slammed behind Bettina, then huddled with her sisters to talk. "What do you think we should do? I don't know which woman to obey!"

  "I want to stay here for as long as we can," Kirsten said. "We're being well fed and we have a very nice roof over our head. I say we should ignore the young Mrs. Anderson."

  "I don't blame our Mrs. Anderson for not wanting to live with that woman," Sofia said. "She isn't very nice."

  "No, but our Mrs. Anderson isn't very nice to her, either," Elfin said. "So are we in agreement? Should we help her stay here as long as she can?"

  Everyone nodded. Elfin was bending to pick up a pile of drapes for the second time when she heard her employer shouting upstairs. She hurried out to the foyer and saw Mrs. Anderson on the balcony outside her bedroom, throwing armfuls of clothing over the railing and shouting at the nurse, Agne.

  "This is my house, not Bettina's! Now get out before I throw you out!"

  "You don't have to fire me," Agne said, "because I quit!" She rushed down the stairs and scooped up her belongings from the foyer floor, then scurried out the front door with the bundle in her arms.

  "Good riddance!" Mrs. Anderson called after her. "And don't come back!"

  Elfin stared up at her employer in surprise.

  "She was a spy," Mrs. Anderson said, wagging her tiny finger at Elfin. "So, you'd better remember who you're working for, young lady."

  KIRSTEN TIED A handkerchief over her mouth and nose and gave the carpet, draped over the sagging clothesline, a hefty whack with the beater. Pounding several years' worth of dust and dirt out of the rug was a filthy job, but she had v
olunteered to do it, hoping to release some of her anger and frustration through hard work.

  No letters had arrived from Tor. Whack! Not a single one. Whack! Kirsten was growing desperate. Enough time had passed for her first letter to reach Sweden and for his reply to arrive by return mail, providing he had written to her right away. She had pleaded with him to help her. Why didn't he reply? Surely he had received at least one of the many letters she'd written to him since finding out about the baby.

  Whenever Kirsten and her sisters had an afternoon or evening off from work, they would walk to Aunt Hilma's boardinghouse to check for mail. Sofia still expected her German friend to come looking for her any day, but so far she had been disappointed. Kirsten had tried to warn Sofia about the dangers of falling in love. Now she would have her heart broken, too.

  Kirsten gave the carpet another whack, squinting her eyes to keep out the dust. She longed to close her eyes against the reality that a child was growing inside her, as if by not thinking about it, it would go away. She still looked the same as usual. She felt the same. And she did manage to forget, at times-until a foul smell touched off her nausea.

  She felt a sprinkle of raindrops on her arms and looked up at the threatening sky. She had better beat faster before the sprinkle became a downpour. She carried on an imaginary conversation with Tor as she worked, wishing she could send a message across the ocean from her mind to his: Please, Tor. We have to do something! Your baby is going to be born without a name. It will be an outcast. This child is your fault as much as it is mine, so please don't make me take all of the punishment. It isn't fair! Besides, your child-who is innocent of any wrongdoing-will be the one who suffers the most. You have to help me!

  "Do you want help with that?"

  The voice behind her made her jump. She turned and saw the gardener hurrying toward her, pulling his cap down to keep the rain off his face.

  "It's going to start pouring any minute," he said, "so we'd better take that rug inside. I'm on my way home for the day. Can't work in the rain, you know.... Are you all right, miss?"

  Kirsten pulled the kerchief down to uncover her mouth. "Yes. I'm fine." But the gardener must have been able to tell that her face was wet from tears, not rain. "You're just in time, Mr. Lund. I could use your help."

  He carried the carpet inside to the salon, where Elfin and Sofia were hard at work. Elfin was on her hands and knees, putting the final coat of wax on the parquet floor. Sofia was polishing the grand piano that took up one corner of the enormous room. Mr. Lund helped Kirsten roll out the rug and move the furniture back into place on top of it. They were nearly finished cleaning this room.

  Bettina Anderson had sent them a note reminding them that she was bringing a potential buyer to look at the house at two o'clock today. Kirsten and her sisters had all risen early this morning to finish working on the salon. It looked sparkling clean, even on a dreary day such as this. But they had done no work at all on the rest of the house, aside from keeping the foyer looking nice and tidying the morning room and Mrs. Anderson's bedroom. Scrubbing laundry had taken an entire day, and they'd had the living room draperies to wash and press besides their usual work.

  "Is that rain I hear?" Sofia asked.

  Kirsten went to the window. The clouds had burst open and the wind was blowing the rain against the front of the house, lashing the windowpanes. "It's pouring!" she said. "We got this rug inside just in time. Maybe these mysterious buyers will change their minds and stay away on a day like today."

  Elfin leaned against the sofa as she pulled herself to her feet. "No, it's more likely that they'll come and track mud all over our nice clean floors."

  Every day, Kirsten and her sisters discussed how they should balance their labor. They wanted to work hard enough to earn their pay, yet make sure they didn't finish too soon and lose their jobs. Kirsten worried that she would be forced to move to Wisconsin if they couldn't pay back the money they owed. If they were no longer employed here, there didn't seem to be anyone else who wanted them or anyplace else they could go besides Wisconsin.

  She heard the thump of Mrs. Anderson's cane in the hallway and went to see what she wanted. Their employer always seemed to choose Kirsten to wait on her, for some reason. "Did you need something, ma'am?" she asked.

  "What is that disgusting thing around your neck?"

  Kirsten quickly untied the kerchief and hid it behind her back. "Sorry, ma'am. I was beating the carpet, so I tied this cloth over my mouth."

  "I am going up to my room," Mrs. Anderson said. "Kindly inform that woman my son married that I do not wish to be disturbed. Nor do I appreciate strangers in my bedroom. I wish Bettina would get it through her wooden head that she is not welcome here." She turned and limped away, muttering to herself.

  Kirsten watched her ascend the stairs, concerned that she might fall. Mrs. Anderson seemed so brittle and frail that Kirsten had to resist the urge to carry her up to her room in her arms.

  Sofia had come out into the hallway and stood watching with her. "I can understand why her family is worried about her," Sofia whispered. "If she fell down those stairs it would kill her."

  "I know. But she doesn't want to move out of her house." A few moments later, Kirsten heard a waltz playing faintly in the distance. "There's that music again. Where do you suppose it's coming from?"

  She and Sofia tiptoed upstairs, stopping in front of Mrs. Anderson's bedroom door to listen. "It's coming from in there," Sofia whispered.

  "I know. But how can she be making music in her bedroom?" Kirsten asked. "It sounds like an entire orchestra." Sofia held her finger to her lips and tiptoed back downstairs.

  "We have to do something to discourage people from buying her house," Kirsten told her on the way down.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, if the buyers thought the house was falling apart, for instance, then they might be afraid to buy it and ... Wait! I have an idea. Come and help me, Sofia."

  Kirsten hurried into the salon and gathered up all of the towels and cleaning rags she could find. "Take these out to the kitchen, Sofia, and get them soaking wet. Don't wring them out. I'm going to lay them on all of the windowsills in the front of the house and pretend the windows are leaking."

  Sofia looked shocked. "Isn't that deceptive?"

  "Yes, of course it is-but so what? Look, if you don't want to help me, I'll do it myself."

  "I'll help you," Elin said.

  While they were stuffing the windowsills with wet rags, Kirsten had another idea. "I need to ask Mrs. Olafson for some old pots and pans. Elfin, get our scrub bucket and fill it with water. Sofia, I'm going to need a couple of brooms."

  Sofia stared at her. "Now what are you going to do?"

  "I told you, I'm trying to keep these people from buying the house. Bring everything up to the first two bedrooms at the top of the stairs."

  Tiny Mrs. Olafson seemed very worried about the fate of her cooking pots, but Kirsten gathered a towering armful of them-as many as she could carry-and scattered them around the bedroom floors.

  "Put a little water in each one," she told Elfin when she arrived with the pail of water. "We're going to pretend that the roof leaks." Kirsten soaked a rag with water and threw it up at the ceiling so it would leave a dripping wet spot, then positioned one of the pots beneath the place where it fell.

  "You have a devious mind, Kirsten," Elfin said. But she smiled as she said it.

  "What are the brooms for?" Sofia asked.

  "We're going to use them to scare away the rats. Like this..." Kirsten took one of the brooms and demonstrated, chasing an imaginary rodent around the room.

  "There aren't any rats in this house."

  "I know there aren't, Sofia. But the people who are coming don't know it."

  "I can't lie."

  "You don't have to. Just run around the room beating the floor with your broom. If they ask what you're doing just say something like, `I hate rats.' That's not a lie, is it?" Sofia looked doubtful. "Plea
se, Sofia. You don't want to move out of this house, do you? How will your German friend ever find you again?"

  Sofia finally agreed, and as two o'clock approached, Kirsten sent her into the second bedroom to wait. Kirsten waited outside the first bedroom door, watching and listening from the upstairs balcony while Elfin let in the visitors. Bettina charged through the door, brushing Elfin aside as she led her guests, who were also Swedes, on a tour of the downstairs rooms.

  "I'm certain you'll agree that this is a magnificent foyer," Bettina said in a phony, fawning voice. "Of course it could use some work, but you'll see what the servants already have accomplished in the dining room."

  She pointed the way and they disappeared beneath the arch. Kirsten couldn't hear their conversation until they came out of the dining room and followed Bettina across the hall to the living room.

  "This is a lovely home beneath the surface," Bettina said. "Unfortunately, the girls are slow and very inexperienced. I don't know why Mother even hired them. If they had a little more time and a little more gumption, you would see the potential in this home more clearly."

  Kirsten watched from the balcony as Bettina toured the rooms at the front of the house. As the visitors emerged from the morning room Kirsten heard the man say, "It appears as though the windows will all need to be replaced."

  Bettina looked worried. "That's odd. They seemed fine the last time I visited."

  "It's pouring rain, Bettina," the woman said. "And they are obviously leaking like sieves."

  As soon as they approached the staircase, Kirsten ran into the bedroom, leaving the door open. She waited until she heard voices outside in the hallway, then began chasing imaginary rats around the room, beating the floor with her broom.

  "What in the world are you doing?" Bettina asked. Kirsten looked up. The three intruders stood in the doorway.

  "Oh! I'm so sorry," Kirsten said. "I didn't know you would be coming upstairs so soon. I-I meant to get these pots moved before . . . but here you are and ..." Kirsten gave a little curtsy. "Good afternoon, ma'am." She let her gaze stray to the corner behind the bed as if worried about something.