"Yes, happy birthday," Sofia said. "This is going to be a wonderful year for you, I just know it."
Kirsten turned nineteen today. When she and Knute had applied for their marriage license she'd learned that he was twenty-nine. The sorrow he carried with him made him seem much older.
"I'm hungry," she said as she buttoned up her skirt. The smell of toast was drifting up from the hotel dining room, below them. "I can't believe Aunt Hilma didn't at least give us some bread crusts when we moved out last night."
"I was hoping for some of the jam Sofia and I made," Elin said.
"We'll buy food while we're out," Sofia said. "We're going shopping this morning to buy Kirsten some new clothes, remember?"
They finished getting dressed and were trying to decide which store to visit first when someone knocked on their door. Kirsten, who was standing closest to it, unlocked it and opened it a crack.
"Knute! What are you doing here?"
"I'm on my way to work, but I wanted to tell you that I found a small house for rent yesterday. The landlord will be there at eleven o'clock this morning if you want to go over and see it. If you think it is suitable, you may pay him this rent money, and he will give you the keys." He pushed an envelope into her hands.
"Of course it will be suitable," she said, laughing. "Anything is better than this creepy place-or the jail cell we stayed in for a night." He didn't smile at her attempts to be lighthearted. Kirsten tried to recall if she had ever seen him smile. "Listen, Knute, I'm in no position to be choosy, so-"
"I am not a very good judge of kitchen facilities. I was concerned that they may not be adequate."
He was so serious and intense that Kirsten's mood sobered, as well. "I see. In that case, I'll be happy to walk over and have a look at the house."
"I wrote the address on the envelope. The house is close to the streetcar line that I take to work. And it's only a few blocks from the market. Here, take some money for the streetcar. It's a long walk from here."
She let him dump some loose change into her hand, thinking she would walk to the house instead and buy breakfast for her sisters with the money. Besides, she didn't want him to know that she had no idea how to travel by streetcar. Kirsten closed the door after Knute left and turned around to tell her sisters the good news.
"Look!" she said, waving the envelope. "Knute found-"
"We heard everything," Elin said. "Sorry. It was impossible not to hear."
"That's all right. Do you want to walk over there with me at eleven o'clock and see it?"
"I can't," Sofia said. "I have to rehearse at the theater this morning at ten."
"I'll go with you," Elin said. "Where is it?"
Kirsten looked down at the address. "Knute said it's a long walk. He said to take the streetcar, but the exercise will be good for me. I don't want to get too fat. Remember how huge Mrs. Jansson from back home used to get every time she had a baby?"
"You won't get that big," Elin said, laughing. "Mrs. Jansson was huge even when she wasn't expecting."
"How could you tell?" Sofia asked. "She was always expecting! Didn't she have about two dozen children?"
"It sure seemed like it," Elin said. "But none of them ever stood still long enough for anyone to count."
Kirsten felt tears stinging her eyes as she listened to her sisters' laughter. "I'm going to miss you both so much," she said softly.
"Don't start talking that way yet," Elin scolded. "We have three more days until your wedding, and I don't want to run out of tears before then."
"Let's go shopping." Sofia stood and herded Kirsten and Elin toward the door. "Wait until you see how nice it is to have something new. You'll feel like a real American once you look like one. I felt like I had finally left Sweden behind when I put on my new clothes."
They couldn't afford to shop at Marshall Field's, where Sofia had shopped. Instead, they went to a store in their Swedish neighborhood that sold everything from ladies' dresses and men's hats to dishes and household goods. Kirsten purchased a simple black skirt made of patterned brilliantine for $1.35 and a white taffeta waist for $1.65, spending all but one dollar of her pay.
"We can get by on one dollar until Sofia gets paid," Elin said. "We can buy day-old bread at the bakery and bargain for damaged fruit and vegetables at the farmers' market the way Aunt Hilma does."
The clerk folded Kirsten's new clothes and wrapped them in a brown paper bundle tied with string. "I'm going to save these clothes until the wedding," Kirsten said.
It took her and Elin half an hour to walk to the house Knute had rented. Sofia showed them the Viking Theater on the way but had to remain behind to rehearse.
"I still can't imagine our shy little Sofia singing on a stage in front of hundreds of people," Kirsten said as she and Elin walked on. "Who would have ever thought?"
"I'm still not too sure I like the idea." Elin said. "I hope she's safe and that nothing happens-"
"She'll be fine. She has grown up so much since we left home, hasn't she? Sofia used to be so quiet and shy and prissy; now she's reading the Bible all the time and telling us to pray about everything."
"She reminds me of Mama."
"Yes ... Mama would be very proud of her."
Kirsten found the white-shingled house on a quiet side street a few blocks from the main thoroughfare. It was small and square with a peaked roof and a tiny front porch, and it sat perched on a patch of grass like a rock in the middle of a stream. The landlord sat waiting for them on the porch steps with the key. Kirsten recognized the first word he said to them-the American greeting hello, but that was all as he babbled on and on in a friendly way.
"I don't speak English," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry. May I see inside?" She smiled and pointed to the door. "Inside.. . ?" He finally seemed to understand. He unlocked the door for her, then stood aside as she and Elin went in to look around.
The three downstairs rooms-living room, dining room, and kitchen-were lined up in a straight row from the front door to the back door. The house had wooden floors and plenty of windows to let in sunlight and fresh air. A staircase led to two small bedrooms beneath the eaves.
"This is a very nice kitchen," Elin said as she looked around. It had a sink with indoor plumbing, a small cast-iron cookstove, and a cupboard for dishes hanging on one wall. "It's just right for the two of you."
"There will soon be three of us," Kirsten said. "Knute is going to send to Sweden for his son. And the baby will make four of us, of course." It was still hard for Kirsten to imagine that a real live baby was growing inside her. When she did remember, the idea of giving birth and caring for a newborn terrified her.
"It's a nice little house," Elin said. "You're going to take it, I hope."
Kirsten came out of her reverie. The landlord stood with the key in his hand, waiting for her answer. "Yes," she told him, using one of the few English words she knew. "Yes ... yes."
She handed him the money Knute had given her and kept the envelope with the address printed on it. The landlord gave her the key, then pulled a second key from his pocket and handed it to her, chattering on and on in English. She hoped he wasn't giving important instructions about how to take care of the house, because she didn't understand a word he said.
"Thank you," she told him in Swedish. "Thank you very much." When he was gone she turned to Elin. "We need to be smart like Sofia and start learning English."
"You should learn," Elin said. "I probably won't need it up in Wisconsin."
Kirsten exhaled. "I wish you would change your mind about going there. I need you, Elin. Especially with a baby on the way and-"
"I know, I know. But let's not worry about it until I hear from Gunnar Pedersen. Shall we take a look at the backyard now?"
The little plot of grass had a scrawny oak tree in one corner and a square patch of weeds that might have once been a vegetable garden in the other. A clothesline stretched from the back porch to a pole on the side of the yard. Kirsten pictured a row of fl
apping diapers on it and suddenly felt alone. And scared.
"This will be a nice place for Knute's little boy to play," Elin said.
Kirsten nodded, but the truth was, the yard looked desolate and bleak to her. She remembered how she and her sisters had roamed the woods near their farm at home, searching for fairy glens and pretending that a pile of boulders was a giant's castle. She turned and went back into the house.
"Where will you get furniture?" Elfin asked as they walked through the empty rooms again.
"Knute is going to look through the advertisements in his newspaper. He says people are always buying new furniture and selling their old things."
"Really? Don't Americans hand things down to their children and grandchildren like we did back home? It means so much more when the tables and chairs were in your family for years, don't you think?"
"Yes, but a lot of Americans immigrated here from someplace else, remember? They had to leave all the furniture behind, just like we did."
"I guess you're right. Things change ... and life goes on."
Kirsten didn't want to think about change-there had been too many changes in her life as it was-but she knew that she had to. Elfin was right. Life went on.
"It's a nice little house," Elfin said again. "You'll make it into a home."
On the night before the wedding, Elfin unpacked the trunk and divided up the things they had brought with them from Sweden, letting Kirsten have first choice of what she wanted for a wedding present. Kirsten decided on the silver candlesticks that had belonged to their grandmother. Elfin chose the copper coffee kettle. Sofia took Mama's hymnbook and the wooden bowl painted with rosemaling. Then they divided up the linen towels and aprons and table runners that Mama had embroidered and the wooden utensils that Papa had carved.
"Just think-Mama's fingers made every stitch," Elfin said as she caressed the colored thread.
Sofia wiped a tear. "I'll bet she never dreamed these things would travel so many miles from home."
"What's wrong, Sofia?" Elfin asked her.
"Dividing all these things ... I think I'm finally realizing that we won't always be together."
Kirsten struggled against her own tears. "Both of you should move in with Knute and me. This rooming house isn't a very nice place."
Sofia shook her head. "It would be too far for me to travel back and forth to the theater every day. I'll look for a nicer place when I have a little money saved."
"Besides," Elin said, "your house isn't very big, Kirsten. And you need time alone with your husband."
Kirsten finally lost the battle with her tears. "I hate being apart! We've never been separated before. All my life, for as far back as I can remember, the two of you have been there."
"I know," Elin said, pulling Kirsten into her arms. "I know. And for as long as I can remember, I've been watching over the two of you. But even if we'd stayed in Sweden, we would have all married husbands one day and moved to homes of our own. I'm just sorry that the time has come so soon."
Kirsten didn't sleep well that night. And judging by the way her sisters tossed and turned, they didn't, either. She couldn't stop thinking about Tor, wishing she were marrying him in their church back home. It must feel very different to be marrying someone you loved and to be looking forward to a lifetime together. It scared her to think of all the years that stretched ahead of her as Knute Lindquist's second wife. She wished she could run away.
But she quickly turned her thoughts to the baby that was growing inside her and knew she had to go through with the wedding. She closed her eyes and thanked God for Knute Lindquist.
"I shouldn't have wasted money on these clothes," she said as she dressed for her wedding the next day. "They won't fit me too much longer anyway." She hopped up and down in front of the dresser, trying to see herself in the mirror.
"What are you doing?" Elin asked her.
"I can't see how I look."
"You look beautiful," Sofia told her. "Doesn't she, Elin?"
"Yes, now sit down and let me pin up your hair. And no more hopping around, or it will all come falling down."
"Don't make it look too neat," Sofia said with a smile. "She won't look like Kirsten unless her hair is flying all over the place."
When it was time to leave, Elfin and Sofia loaded all of Kirsten's things into their three satchels and carried them for her. Kirsten's knees felt wobbly as she walked to the church. Knute was already there, waiting for her. She wondered if he was as nervous as she was and if he was thinking of Flora, remembering their wedding day. She wouldn't ask him. She didn't want to stir the ashes of his grief.
It seemed to Kirsten that Pastor Johnson was reluctant to perform the simple ceremony, even though Knute had spoken to him about it several days ago. "I would still advise against this marriage," he said as he ushered everyone into his study. He addressed his words to Knute, not her. "Why not take your time and do this properly? At least have the banns read in church."
"My son is coming from Sweden soon. We want everything to be ready when he arrives."
"Are you certain you want to do this, Knute?" he asked again. "You barely know Miss Carlson. And there is quite an age difference."
"Miss Carlson and I are both very certain." He turned to Kirsten as if to make sure. She nodded and smiled in spite of her fear.
The pastor's wife handed Kirsten a small bouquet of flowers that she had picked from her garden. Elfin, Sofia, and a friend of Knute's from work gathered around them to serve as witnesses. Kirsten's heart pounded so wildly as the pastor read the vows that she barely comprehended a word of them. She answered "I do" in all the proper places, closed her eyes as Pastor Johnson prayed for them, and before she knew it, they were pronounced man and wife. It seemed ridiculous that a few words and a simple piece of paper could bind her to this man she barely knew for the rest of her life. But it was true. Kirsten was now Mrs. Knute Lindquist.
The pastor's wife applauded as Knute gave her a brief kiss. There would be no wedding reception. Neither of them had many friends or family members in Chicago.
Knute shook hands with the minister and with his friend, and then everyone followed him outside to the carriage he had hired to drive to their new house. Kirsten and her sisters cried as they hugged each other good-bye. Knute loaded Kirsten's satchels into the carriage.
"I just remembered," he said, turning to her. "When I asked Mr. Anderson for the afternoon off, he said that he wanted to speak with you and your sisters in his office tomorrow."
"Why? What does he want?" Kirsten asked.
"He didn't say. But he would like all three of you to be there tomorrow at two o'clock."
"I wish he'd told you what this is about," Elin said.
"It's useless to worry," Sofia said with a sigh. "We can face him with a clear conscience."
Kirsten smiled, trying to put on a brave face as she climbed into the carriage with Knute. "Good-bye! I'll meet you at the newspaper office tomorrow." She waved until her sisters were out of sight.
Knute had purchased a few things for the house since Kirsten had visited-a table and two chairs for the dining room, a desk and small horsehair sofa for the living room, some pots and utensils for the kitchen. The house still looked empty. Kirsten gazed around, trying to shake the feeling that she had made a huge mistake. She reminded herself that her mistake had been in trusting Tor. Knute was a good man.
"Thank you for marrying me," she told him. "You didn't have to-"
"Listen, Kirsten. It's done now, so please don't mention it anymore."
She followed him as he carried her bags upstairs and set them down on one of the beds he'd purchased. It looked much too narrow for two people to sleep on.
"I thought I would let you and Torkel have this larger bedroom," he said. "I plan to put another bed in here for him-and you'll want a cradle for the baby. I'll sleep in the smaller bedroom."
She stared at him in surprise. He had warned her before they'd married that he didn't expect her to be hi
s wife in every sense of the word, but the reality of it still stunned her. "But . . . I mean . . . I didn't realize that we would sleep apart."
"I don't think it would be right if ..." he said, his voice trailing off. "I'll let you get unpacked."
She sank down on the bed, listening to his footsteps fade as he hurried downstairs. She couldn't deny that she felt hurt and rejected. But what did she expect? After all, it was a marriage of convenience for both of them. She had entered into it knowing that Knute didn't love her, knowing that his wife would always occupy first place in his heart. And if she was honest with herself, Kirsten knew she wasn't in love with him, either. Even so, she couldn't help feeling disappointed that Knute didn't want to be with her and that they would never truly be husband and wife.
Think of the baby, she told herself. She had done this for her baby and for her sisters. She wiped her tears and stood to make her bed, using the linens she'd brought with her from Sweden. When she'd finished unpacking, placing her clothes in the dresser drawers and her toiletries on top of it, she went downstairs. Knute was working at the desk in the living room. He had already filled it with his papers and books. She noticed a packing crate with more books on the floor beside it.
"I have made arrangements for Torkel to come as soon as possible." He didn't look up at her when he spoke.
Kirsten sat down on the stiff sofa, perched on the very edge. "How will he get here? He can't travel this far all by himself."
"Flora's family will travel with him as far as Gothenburg. He has been living with them. And as it happens, the friend you met at the wedding today wants to bring his mother to America. She will travel with Torkel the rest of the way."
"Won't it be hard for them when they get to Ellis Island? My sisters and I were stuck there for almost two weeks, and it was so crowded and confusing and-" She stopped, suddenly recalling that the immigration facility had burned to the ground.