Elfin let out a whoosh of air. "I wish I knew what was wrong with her."
Sofia barely heard her. "Even if Ludwig doesn't come for me," she murmured, "surely he'll come for his violin."
On the following Tuesday evening, as Sofia finished dressing to sing for the engagement party, Mrs. Anderson called her into her bedroom. "I wanted to see how you looked," she told Sofia. "Is that the only decent thing you have to wear?"
Sofia looked down at her new American clothing in dismay. "Yes, ma'am. I mean ... I could change into my Sunday dress from home if-"
"No, no, no. Come here." She beckoned for Sofia to follow her into her dressing room. Mrs. Anderson opened a huge jewelry case on a stand beside her dresser and began pulling out glittering brooches and necklaces, one after the other, and holding them up to the front of Sofia's dress.
"Here. Pin this one on your collar." She handed Sofia a beautiful cameo brooch, framed with tiny seed pearls. "You'll have to fasten it yourself. My old fingers can't manage the clasp."
"Oh, but I-I can't wear this! I'd be afraid I would lose it."
"'I'm afraid, I'm afraid,' " Mrs. Anderson mimicked. "You're always afraid. When are you going to start living your life? Wear the stupid brooch!"
Sofia did as she was told, then accepted an exquisitely embroidered shawl that looked as though it had come from an exotic faraway land and had cost a lot of money. This time she knew better than to argue.
Somehow, Mrs. Anderson had ordered a horse and carriage for the evening, and the driver stood waiting for them outside the front door. Sofia was surprised to be treated as a guest at the party. Her hostess invited her to mingle with the others and to help herself to the buffet table. Many of the guests conversed in English or in a mixture of English and Swedish, and Sofia was able to understand some of what was said, even if she did find it exhausting to translate everything.
Couples danced to the music of a small orchestra, which included several violinists. As Sofia stood watching them play, wishing that one of them was Ludwig, a gentleman came to stand alongside her.
"They're very good, aren't they," he commented. She could only nod. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Eric Wallstrom."
"Sofia Carlson." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Would you care to dance, Miss Carlson?"
"No thank you. I don't know how to dance." Kirsten should be there. She would enjoy this evening so much. She was the fun-loving sister-at least she used to be.
"Dancing is really very simple," Mr. Wallstrom told her. "They're playing a waltz. I could teach you how."
"No thank you. Will you excuse me, please?"
She hurried away, searching for a place to hide until it was time to sing, and nearly collided with Bettina Anderson. The woman grabbed Sofia's forearm to stop her, then looked her over from head to toe.
"What in the world are you doing here? Aren't you Mother Anderson's maid?" Before Sofia could reply, Bettina spotted the cameo pin. Her eyes went wide. "Where did you get that brooch? That doesn't belong to you!"
Sofia's hand flew to her throat, covering the pin. "I-It's ... I mean ... Mrs. Anderson told me to wear it."
"You're a liar! Take it off this instant, you little thief!"
Bettina tightened her grip on Sofia's arm and towed her out of the crowd and toward the hallway. Sofia fumbled to unpin the clasp with her free hand, afraid to cause a scene. But just as she started to hand over the pin, Sofia felt someone grip her other arm. It was the fairy queen.
"You put that brooch right back on," the elder Mrs. Anderson commanded. "What do you think you're doing, Bettina?"
"Your maidservant stole your cameo."
"She most certainly did not. I let her borrow it. You would do well to mind your own business from now on. Come, Sofia. I believe they are ready for you to sing."
Sofia didn't know how in the world she could sing after her confrontation with Bettina. She was still shaking from head to toe and could barely refasten the pin to her collar. But the hostess was already introducing her to the audience as Sofia made her way across the room to stand near the orchestra. She whispered a silent prayer for help as the musicians played the opening bars of her first song, then drew a breath and began to sing.
The first few notes sounded shaky, but Sofia quickly gained control. The bride-to-be had requested a traditional love song from back home, and the words made Sofia think of Ludwig. She closed her eyes and sang the words to him, pouring all of her love and longing into the music. When she finished, the applause went on and on.
After singing several more songs, she waded through a sea of people wanting to congratulate her as she made her way to the punch table to quench her thirst. A man in a three-piece suit followed her, jabbering in English, but she was too drained to comprehend what he was saying.
"Excuse me," she finally interrupted. "But I don't speak English very well yet."
"Oh. So sorry. My name is Carl Lund," he said, switching languages. "I wanted to have a word with you about your performance, Miss Carlson. I own the Viking Theater a few blocks from here. We do small productions, variety shows, a little vaudeville-all sorts of things. I would like to offer you a contract to sing in one of my variety shows."
Sofia stared at him, unable to speak. He had to be joking.
"Our shows are mostly for the Swedish-speaking community," he continued when she didn't respond, "and I think our audiences would enjoy hearing you. Has anyone told you that your voice is reminiscent of jenny Lind's?"
"I-I only arrived in America a short time ago, Mr. Lund. I sang today as a favor for our hostess. I've really never thought of performing onstage."
"Well, perhaps you should think about it. You're a very lovely young woman, Miss Carlson, and you have a beautiful voice. People would pay a lot of money to hear you sing. If you would allow me to offer you a lift home, perhaps we could discuss it further. I could even show you the theater, if you'd like."
"No thank you. I came with Mrs. Anderson-Silvia Anderson. My sisters and I work as her maidservants."
"You can't be serious. A maidservant? You could make a great deal more money singing in one of my shows, I assure you."
"I-I really don't think I'd care to, Mr. Lund. But thank you just the same."
"Well, here, take my card," he said, pushing it into her hand. "Give my offer some thought. I would love to hear from you if you change your mind."
Sofia stuck the card in her pocket, certain that she wouldn't change her mind. Nor would she tell Elfin about Mr. Lund's offer. Elfin worried too much as it was. Besides, Sofia had no interest in singing in a theater. Ludwig would be coming for her any day now.
"You made quite a favorable impression this evening," Mrs. Anderson said on the carriage ride home. "You should consider developing your talent. There is an excellent conservatory of music here in Chicago that just opened two years ago. It's run by William Hall Sherwood, a protege of the great composer Franz Liszt. Have you heard Mr. Liszt's music?"
"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."
"Well, don't be sorry-do something about your ignorance. I'm a great believer in education, especially for young people such as you and your sisters. Women should always have a means of supporting themselves-and I don't mean as servants. If I had my life to live over again, I would attend college."
Sofia fingered the five-dollar bill in her pocket, still amazed by the staggering amount she'd been paid. "My sisters and I can't afford to go to school, Mrs. Anderson. I'm taking English classes in the evening, but they're free."
"You need to think about your future. You won't be working for me forever, you know."
"I know. Once your house is clean-"
"That's not what I mean. I'm dying, Sofia.... No, don't get sentimental on me," she said when Sofia began to protest. "It's a fact. I'm eighty-six years old, and my time is almost up. Death is the one certainty that none of us can avoid. But I have two pieces of advice for you when my time comes and you no longer work for me. First, use your talent to su
pport yourself. And second, whatever you do, don't go to work for Bettina. She'll poison all three of you."
"Poison us?"
"Not literally, you nitwit. With her greed and bitterness. She would destroy your charming innocence in no time at all. You saw how she reacted today when she recognized my brooch. Selfish woman! Why do you think she never bore children? She didn't want to share my son's money with them, that's why."
Once again, Sofia didn't know how to respond.
"The fact is, I'm dying," Mrs. Anderson continued, "and Bettina can't wait to get her hands on everything I own. Mind you, I've done things in the past that I'm not very proud of, just as she has. I'm not at all certain that St. Peter will let me through the pearly gates when my time comes."
"It's not what you've done that matters in the end, Mrs. Anderson. It's what Jesus has done for you. The Bible says-"
"Hold it!" Mrs. Anderson held up her hand. "You're not going to preach another sermon, are you?"
"If you'll let me."
Mrs. Anderson laughed out loud. "Very well, then," she said with a sweep of her arm. "Give me your very best sermon. But I should warn you that an old curmudgeon like me has heard plenty of sermons over the years, and they haven't done one bit of good. I'm still a reprobate."
"I don't believe that's what you are, Mrs. Anderson. My aunt Karin's gander back home was always scaring me half to death, honking and flapping its wings. I didn't want to step one foot out of our cottage when he was on the loose. But it was all noise. He was just trying to protect what was his-his family, his nest, his home."
"Hmmph. So now I'm an old goose, am I?"
"Not at all. You have a good heart, Mrs. Anderson. You've been very kind to my sisters and me."
"So, you've seen through my flapping wings and honking noise-is that what you're saying?"
"Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at your heart."
"Well, my heart is black." She leaned back on the carriage seat, staring straight ahead. Sofia wasn't sure if she should continue the conversation or not, but Mrs. Anderson finally began speaking again after a long pause.
"Before we were married, my husband, Gustav, was engaged to another woman. He was madly in love with her and she with him. But I wanted his money, so I tricked Gustav into marrying me-never mind the sordid details. He had to leave Sweden in order to avoid a scandal that would have ruined him and his family. We began all over again here in America, and his newspaper did very well. He built a beautiful home for me and showered me with jewels. But I used him when I should have loved him. I was too filled with greed and self-loathing to love him or anyone else. That may not seem like a crime to you, but it is to me. Gustav loved that girl, and I stole something precious from both of them-for money, of all things. You can't put a price tag on love."
Sofia remained silent, thinking of her love for Ludwig.
"Perhaps that's why I hate Bettina so much," Mrs. Anderson said, as if talking to herself. "She married my son for his money, as well. I could hardly condemn her under the circumstances. But whenever I see her, I see myself. She'll realize-much too late, I'm afraid-that nobody in the whole world loves her, either."
They watched the houses and stores and side streets go by, listening to the clopping of horse hooves on the cobbled street. Sofia pulled the borrowed shawl a little more tightly around her shoulders. The chill she felt didn't come from the night air.
"Let's hear your sermon now."
The abrupt command to perform threw Sofia off balance for a second time that night. She struggled to refocus her thoughts.
"Um ... I've been reading my mama's Bible and.. . and it says that we've all done bad things. But if we admit that we've done wrong and tell Jesus we're sorry for it and begin to follow His word, then His death will count in our place. He'll take all of our sins away so that when we get to heaven, the pearly gates will swing wide open to let us in."
"Even if we've done wrong all our life?"
"If we put our trust in Jesus-then yes."
Once again, Mrs. Anderson was silent for a while. "That's probably the shortest sermon I've ever heard," she finally said. "Why do the pastors take so long to say the same thing?"
"I suppose they want to earn their pay."
Mrs. Anderson barked out a laugh. "See? It always comes down to money, doesn't it? So tell me, what do you think it's like to die?"
"Well, my mama was sick for a long time, but she wasn't afraid. She believed that Jesus would call her home when He had a place prepared-"
"I asked what you thought, not your mother."
"Oh. Well, I think it will be a lot like coming to America."
"How so?"
"I didn't want to leave Sweden at first, because it seemed like I was leaving so many good things behind-and most of us don't want to leave this life behind, either. But America is so much better in so many ways, just like heaven is going to be. So now I'm glad I came. I've learned so much and grown so much, and I've fallen in love and ... and now I never would want to go back."
"Even though you're working as a maid?"
"I had to work hard back home, too," Sofia said with a shrug. "But God seemed far away and distant there. Now I feel like He's right here beside me every day. I think He allows hardships in our lives so we will come to Him for help. And so we will learn to be better people."
"I envy you," Mrs. Anderson said softly.
There was so much more that Sofia longed to tell her, but they had reached home and the conversation came to a halt along with the carriage. She helped Mrs. Anderson climb down and didn't let go of her arm until they had climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
"Thank you for letting me wear your pin," she said, placing it in the old woman's hand. "And if you ever want to talk-"
"Good night, Sofia," Mrs. Anderson said, cutting her off. "And take tomorrow afternoon off. That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you.. . God natt."
Sofia had no idea what to do with an extra afternoon off and no English classes to attend. But the day turned out to be sunny and hot, so she decided to go for a walk. She explored the Swedish neighborhood and peeked inside a few shops, then stopped at the boardinghouse on her way back to the mansion.
"Hej, Aunt Hilma," she said after knocking on the back door. "I came to see if there was any mail."
"On the hall table." She didn't look up from the rutabagas she was mashing.
"By any chance, did the German gentleman come by for his Bible yet?"
Hilma shook her head. Sofia sighed and pushed through the swinging door. A letter addressed to Elin lay on the hall table. It was from one of the farmers in Wisconsin. She hoped Elin wasn't planning to make the three of them move up there, but why else would she continue writing to this man?
Sofia put the letter in her pocket and walked through the kitchen again. "Good-bye, Aunt Hilma. And thank you." She no sooner stepped outside when her aunt's maid appeared out of nowhere, blocking her path. "Oh, Inge! You startled me!" Sofia said. "I didn't see-"
"Shh! I don't want the missus to hear me." Inge glanced both ways before pulling Sofia inside the privy, speaking in an urgent whisper. "Please don't tell her I said so, but I think she's lying to you. I hear you and your sisters asking about the foreign man every time you come, and-"
"Was Ludwig here? Did he come?" Sofia's heart began to race.
"I don't know what the man's name was or if he's the one you're waiting for, but there was a foreign man here last week. He didn't speak Swedish, so I couldn't understand him. And Mrs. Larson couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying, either, so she closed the door on him."
"Was he asking for me?"
"How would I know? Like I said, neither one of us knew what he was going on and on about."
"Did he speak German?"
"It sounded like gibberish."
"What did he look like?"
"I didn't see him!" Inge seemed to be growing frustrated with all of Sofia's questions. "I was dusting the fr
ont parlor, and you know how the missus keeps the curtains drawn all the time? I knew she would be mad if I stuck my head out to have a look at him. She doesn't let me be seen, you know. But whoever he was, the missus ran him off and closed the door."
"Oh no! What if it was Ludwig? How will he ever find me? I'd better go talk to my aunt and make sure-"
"No, miss!" Inge barred the privy door, a look of panic on her face. "Please don't tell her I talked to you. If she catches me going behind her back like this she'll fire me-after she beats me black and blue first."
Sofia didn't know what to do. She longed to confront her aunt and find out more about the stranger, but she didn't want to get Inge into trouble. Besides, if it turned out to be another false alarm, as it had been when the man came to see Kirsten, she would have caused a lot of distress for nothing.
"Listen, Inge, if the man comes again, could you please, please tell him where I am? I'll write down the address-"
"I can't promise that, miss. I just happened to overhear them talking that day because I was cleaning the parlor. Usually she makes me stay in back. I don't ever get to see who comes to the door."
Hope and despair battled inside Sofia. If the man had been Ludwig, it meant he had made it safely to Chicago. But if Aunt Hilma had turned him away, how would he ever find her?
"I have to go," Inge whispered, "before I get in trouble."
"I understand. Thank you for telling me."
What if it had been Ludwig? Where would he go after leaving here? For all he knew, Sofia had stolen his violin and he would never see her or his instrument again. But surely he knew how Sofia felt about him. Hadn't he told her that he felt the same way?
If only Chicago weren't such a huge city. How in the world would they ever find each other?
ELIN STOOD ON tiptoe on the ladder in one of the upstairs bedrooms, stretching to remove the heavy drapes from the curtain rod. Kirsten stood below her, supporting the dusty pile of cloth in her arms. Suddenly Sofia burst into the bedroom, startling both of them.