Mara (6 page)

Auntie Be found the letter and handed it to me without a word and then she left the kitchen. ‘I’ll be in the barn if you need me.

It took a few minutes before I had the courage to actually read the letter. Here I was, sitting in Grandpa’s chair, staring at the envelope with on it in the Reverend’s handwriting my aunt’s address. My first question was answered. He had written the letter. Of course. How could I even have considered the idea that my mother would have been involved in this? Undoubtedly, she would have detached herself from the situation. Did she even know what was going on? Did she even realize that I was pregnant and that she would be a grandmother?

As was usually the case, it was the Reverend who organized, decided and commanded. If God would ever be in need of someone to organize his affairs in heaven, the Reverend would be first in line to offer his services. He would put everything in such order as he desired, he would lead the praise and preach the sermons. He would be lord and master in heaven. There would be no room left for God or the saints.

The paper in my shaking hand rustled.

It was time.

I was trembling when I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It contained merely one sheet of paper, filled with his sharp and angular handwriting.

My eyes skimmed over the letters as they shaped words, sentences, a story. All those letters lumped together and blended into one monstrous word. The accusation jumped off the paper. Whore.

The word he had used again and again, until even Mother had nodded in agreement, the word that had, in the end, destroyed what was left of my dignity. Every time he used that word, he shattered to pieces the small remains of my youth and dreams, and with his heel he pulverized them.

Whore.

The letter fell from my hand and fluttered to the ground, peacefully, like a feather, but it was as sharp as a knife.

I hid my face in my hands, and my body folded over. Behind my closed eyes it turned black, then white. The emptiness had it’s own color, and it had plenty of room for the accusation his lips had uttered. Whore. Filthy whore. Nobody in his congregation was to know, but in the face of those who might love me, he was abundantly clear. First Mother, now Auntie. There would be no one left for me. Everyone would follow his judgement and judge me accordingly. No mercy for a whore.

I did not hear Auntie return. Much later she told me that I had heard nothing at all, for she had called my name several times, but I had not responded. It was only when she took my hands and stroked them softly, when she kissed my cheek and whispered kind words in my ear that I returned to my senses. Auntie said that I was as white as a sheet, and I knew it was true. My arms and legs had lost all feeling, I felt paralyzed and it would not have surprised me if all blood had flowed out of my body, simply leaving me in this hateful shell. This shell I despised for everything it carried.

‘Would you like to tell me about it?’ Auntie asked me, much later. She had given me some tea and another warm sweater to fight off the cold, which had taken hold of me and made me shiver.

I shook my head, but at the same time I opened my mouth to offer at least one piece of clarification. Barely a whisper left my mouth.

‘I am not a whore.’ I swallowed. ‘There is no boy friend, no man, nobody.’

I wasn’t sure if I had actually spoken those last words out loud, but it felt good to deny the existence of anything male in my life – including the Reverend. I repeated the words to myself, over and over. There is nobody. Nobody. He is nothing, a nobody. The words gave some relief, even if temporary.

Finally Auntie rose and began to set the table. I wanted to stand up and help her, but my legs were still too weak and I fell back in the chair.

‘Don’t get up, sweetheart.’

Auntie lifted the lid off the pan on the paraffin stove and again I smelled the stew. The aroma reminded me of meals I had had in this house in the past. I watched while Auntie stirred the contents of the pan and filled two bowls with a generous serving. Then she walked over to me and stretched out her hand.

‘I look like an old woman.’

‘You’re just tired.’ Auntie helped me up and walked with me to the kitchen table. I sat down and waited for Auntie to join me at the table. She sat down on the seat across from me and when she folded her hands I knew what she was going to do. Insincerely I bent my head, but in rebellion I did not fold my hands. I kept them hidden underneath the table. It remained silent and I looked up at Auntie in surprise.

‘I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Maria, least of all this.’

I could feel my face turn red and I slowly shook my head in denial of what she had suggested, but I did not have the courage to speak.

‘Listen, I pray at every meal and I also thank the Lord afterwards. I read from the Bible several times a day, but I will never force you to take part.’

Now I nodded, although I found it heard to understand what she meant and found it even harder to believe her. Then Auntie bowed her head and prayed in silence. I watched her dumbfounded. After her prayer Auntie picked up her spoon and started to eat. She nodded at me invitingly, so I also picked up my spoon. I started to eat for the first time without asking a blessing over the meal first.

When the meal was over I helped Auntie with the dishes. I pumped water into the large kettle and placed it on the fire. Auntie took a small zinc basin and placed it on the table. Next she took the pan of stew from the stove and placed it on a wooden cutting board on the kitchen counter to cool off.

The water boiled and I added the boiling water to a bit of soap in the basin. Then I quickly added a bit of cold water from the pump, took the bowls and washed them. Auntie joined me with a tea towel and she dried everything quickly and efficiently. She worked so fast that the bowls were put away before I had washed the utensils, and all that time she hummed a melody that somehow sounded familiar.

‘What song is that?’ I asked in the end.

‘You don’t remember?’ she asked. ‘Your Grandpa used to sing it. It’s Luther’s Psalm, A Mighty Fortress is Our God.’ I nodded and tried to recall the rest of the words, but I could not draw them back out of the fog of my memory.

I felt so much better after my meal, but Auntie still insisted that

I rest.

‘You just take it easy indoors today. It’s a cold day, you’re tired and…’ She didn’t finish her sentence and in my mind I added the word that was clearly implied. Pregnant.

Would we continually feel awkward when my circumstances were mentioned? How would we cope when I started to show and could no longer hide what was growing inside me? It took me three large steps to walk to the door.

‘Please excuse me, I need to visit the privy.’ I yanked the door to the barn open. The privy was underneath the stairs, just where it used to be. I walked quickly and ignored the cold that soaked from the floor into my socks. I violently pulled the door open and I let it slam closed behind me. I just stood in the half dark narrow space, breathing furiously.

You’re pregnant. You whore. Nobody can deny it. Nobody will deny it.
His voice seemed fearfully close by, despite the distance between us. I closed my eyes, forced him out of my thoughts by slowly counting to ten. Then I slid the lid to the side and sat down.

I had to return to the kitchen of course, back to Auntie, but I refused to look at her and I pretended nothing had happened. Auntie didn’t though.

‘I can’t bite my tongue every time, Maria. If you don’t mind I’d rather call a spade, a spade. By not speaking of something it won’t disappear, so we may as well face up to the awkwardness of the situation. Do you agree?

I nodded slowly.

‘I’m glad. It will be a lot safer for my tongue.’ She smiled and I smiled with her.

‘Good. What I meant to say was, you are tired and pregnant, and you need to rest. So, today you’ll stay here, close to the fire. You go and rest up, do some needlework or read a book, whatever you like, as long as you don’t do any hard work.’

Dubiously I looked at her. Was she serious? Did I really have to be an idle spectator all afternoon?

She nodded. ‘Tomorrow you may help me. That’ll be soon enough.’

‘Thank you.’ I felt relieved, for I was more exhausted than I had expected and the idea of staying inside appealed to me. I was still shivering, despite the thick sweater, tea and the warm meal. To go outside now seemed to me the least desirable thing to do.

‘Do you like to read?’ Auntie did not wait for an answer, but brought me along to the hall.

‘Here are my books. There’s not many of them, but I enjoy reading them all.’ She let her hand glide over the backs of the books, some of which already looked tattered, and she pulled two of the books partially off the shelf. ‘You may like these two.’

‘I’ll have a look,’ I said politely.

‘If you would prefer to do needlework, everything you need is here,’ said Auntie, and she drew open one of the drawers of the large cabinet. All sorts of colored yarn and material appeared.

‘There are two things I love to do,’ Auntie said, ‘embroidery and cooking.’ She rubbed her ample stomach. ‘And eating of course,’ she added with a smile.

We returned to the kitchen and Auntie stepped into her wooden shoes.

‘If you need me, I’ll be in the barn or at the stables, but I won’t be long. I’ll soon be coming in too.

I nodded and Auntie left. It was raining again and I saw her walking across the yard with her head down. The dog jumped around her feet, barking and she pushed him off with her hands. Auntie seemed to be a cheerful woman, full of life.

My feet were tingling and I sat down again in Grandpa’s chair. I would do some needlework later, but first I needed a rest.

The remainder of the afternoon flew by and before I realized it Auntie had milked the cows and we sat down at the table to eat some bread. When we finished our meal I could feel what energy I had left drain from me and I sat drowsily in my seat. Auntie Be noticed it and brought me to the guestroom. She helped me with my clothes, found my nightgown in one of the suitcases and tucked me in snugly. I thanked her without words and we kissed goodnight. It was dark, my first night.

5

T
hose words on that sheet of paper. Each letter was full of venom. It torments my soul. May I please write to you? I won’t expect a response from you, all I want is someone who’ll listen to me. What can I expect of my stay here? I am afraid that I will have to live here for four months under the disapproval and contempt of an aunt I barely know. Is that better or worse than living in the manse?

I climbed down the stairs, uncertain. I had no idea what time it was, but it must have been later than Auntie’s regular rising time. What I wanted to do most was quietly creep downstairs, crawl and hide in a corner unnoticed, but the stairs creaked with every step I made.

Finally I was downstairs. I stood for a moment and listened for noises that could tell me where Auntie was, but all was silent and I walked to the kitchen.

I knocked on the door and carefully pushed it open. It was nice and warm in the kitchen and my eyes were immediately drawn to the stove. The warmth radiating from it was so pleasant, and I realized that Auntie must have been up for a while already. I closed the door softly behind me and walked into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked pancakes hung in the air. Pancakes! When was the last time I had eaten pancakes?

On the table was a note. I went to see what it said.
’I’m looking after the pigs. I’ll be right back.
’

I looked out the window, half expecting to see Auntie, but the window was too small and the distance to the pig house too far. Besides, Auntie was most likely still in there. Should I go and see her?

Meekly I sat down on the edge of a chair. I kept my legs demurely together and lay my hands in my lap.

What would Auntie say when she returned? I could tell that she had been up for hours already while I had been in bed sleeping all that time. Of course she would ask questions. Again, I looked out the window, afraid I would see her coming already. I was afraid that she’d come straight at me with large, determined steps. I expected her to ask me after the father of the child and she naturally would want to know how far along I was. She would chastise me, discipline me and maybe even call me names. My hands began a life of their own and started to pull on the fringes of the tablecloth. With quick movements they made a little braid. When it was done my fingers took three more strands to make another braid.

’Have you got a touch of the flu, Maria?’
Mrs. Kleut’s remark sounded innocent enough, but she hung over the counter in a curiously interested manner and she took a good look at me. Her smile seemed insincere and I felt my cheeks burn.

‘You’re looking a bit under the weather lately.’

‘Mother would like a pound of sugar.’ I said.

‘Anything else?’

‘Flour.’

‘How much would you like, Maria?’

‘One pound, no, two.’

I pushed my hands into my coat pockets and stretched myself as long as I could while trying to suck in my stomach.

‘Have you seen Helène lately, Maria?

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh well, you know. That woman from the west side.’ Mrs Kleut shook her head toward the west side. She didn’t wait for my response, but hissed at me: ‘They say she’s pregnant again.’

She looked at me with her eyebrows raised suggestively.

I did not know what to say, so I just put the money on the counter and took my groceries. Without saying goodbye I rushed out the store. I tripped at the entrance but managed to keep my balance. The sugar started to slip from my hands and almost fell. I managed to hold the package in place with my chin. After a little ways I stopped and knelt down to rearrange my groceries. My fingers were trembling and I held on tightly to each paper bag to make sure that nothing would fall. Mrs. Kleut’s words echoed in my head. Helène is pregnant. Pregnant.
The horrible truth, which became more and more clear to me, made me shiver.

There were twelve small braids hanging off the tablecloth when I suddenly heard the clip-clop of wooden shoes. A quick glance at the window told me that Auntie was on her way. I feverishly started to pick at the braids trying to untangle them. I was sure Auntie would be angry with me if she saw what I had been doing. I had to make sure she wouldn’t see any of it.