The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) (8 page)

“Then,”
he added with a cheeky grin, “will you please call me Michael?”

Noticing, not for the first time, how attractive the young man was, the girl only smiled and nodded before entering her room.

Karlijna expected the entire family to turn out for Michael again, but it was not to be.  He explained to her that he would be making the rounds instead. The first night he would be dining with Leif’s family.

Karlijna had no romantic illusions about the man, but she did not mind the opportunity to g
et to know him better. As she had little experience with people her own age – men or women – he was a fascination to her. Their conversation was often stilted because of the language differences, but they were beginning to communicate more easily. She would have been pleased to know his opinion of her was the same as the tenderness he held for his cousins.

Throughout the evening, she discovered he
was actually in the Air Force. He had been stationed in Britain, but was occasionally sent to Sweden. Though he was not at liberty to discuss why he was there, he was able to visit family while in the area.

Karlijna and Michael found themselves alone for a short while in the course of the evening.

“Do you prefer English or Swedish?” he graciously asked.

Her eyes rounded and she made a funny face, “Are you willing to listen to me speak your language so poorly?”

The young man shook his head in mock sorrow, “It would be a tragedy.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but my Swedish is not much better.  I have only been learning it since April.”

“You learn quickly,” the man seemed amazed.  “My mother has been trying to teach me Swedish all my life. Let’s speak English. Maybe I can help you a little.”

Karlijna doubted the short conversation would much improve her skills, but she agreed nonetheless.

“Why are you decided to join the Air Force?” the girl asked, “Or is it forced of young men?”

“No,” he shook his head, “It isn’t required of all our men, though we do have a draft.”

He had to stop and explain that word to her before Karlijna could ask any more questions.

“If the war is end, do you go home or stay in job?”

“I joined for a longer time. I hope the war ends long before my enlistment is over.”

“What is your. . .” Karlijna searched for the right word, “You know,” she lowered her brow and leaned toward him, “the spot in the military?”

Michael looked more confused than she, “Where I’m stationed?”

She didn’t think that was what she meant, “Perhaps that is the word.”

“I’m in London most of the time.”

“No,” she waved her hands in a negative
motion and laughed, “Not that. Are you low man or high man?”

“Oh,” he threw back his head and laughed as well, “my rank.”

“Yes,” she beamed at him, “your rank.”

“I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Lieutenant?”
she repeated the word. “Is just like French word.”

“Is it?”

She nodded, “And do you fly the planes?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that hard,” then realizing that might sound like an insult, she hurried on, “Doesn’t it take many years to learn that?”

“I took flying lessons
before the United States joined the war. So I could be a crop duster.”

Karlijna wondered if this helped him get a better position, but didn’t think she should ask.

He spoke up first anyway, “Did you have longer hair when I met you?”

The girl touched the
golden tresses that curled around her face, “No. It was shorter, actually.”

Michael gave a little chuckle and scrat
ched his cheek, “That’s funny. My sisters are always telling me I don’t notice their new hairdos, that I never pay attention to those things. I guess it’s true.”

Karlijna didn’t want to explain that she had been wearing her scarf before, so she grasped at the first question she thought of, “How many sisters do you have?”

“Two,” he didn’t seem surprised by the change in topic, “both younger.”

“Any brothers?” she asked, now interested in the subject.

“Nope. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

Instantly
, two faces flashed through her mind, Bernard and Veronike.  A jumble of pictures raced one after another.  Images of the three playing together, of Bernard helping her with piano lessons, of Veronike’s face as she was pulled from their mother and thrown roughly on a truck.

“Karlijna?” Leif
’s voice called her back to the present.

The girl snapped out of her reverie, “I’m sorry,
Leif,” she answered in English without thinking before turning to the younger man, “I ask your pardon. My thoughts left my mind.”

Michael was astute enough to realize her discomfort, “That is fine, Miss Bergstrom,” he spoke again in Swedish, “I understand.”

CHAPTER NINE

K
arlijna did not stay long following supper. She retired as early as was polite. Claiming the excuse of a busy tomorrow, she sought solitude to pray.

“Father,” she lay in bed and whispered through her tears, “I do not know why you have chosen me to live when all my
family is gone to be with you. I am still so angry at times with you for allowing this to happen. Please give me peace about this state in which I am, and help me to be content and find my joy in you.”

Despite the young girl’s faith, he
r tender heart could not but grieve for all she had lost. She could pray no more since sobs swept over her frame.  She lay weeping for many hours, nearly choking on her tears at times. In the early hours of the morning, her body too tired to hold out, the child gave in to sleep.

She would not have allowed for her
grief to so overtake her had she realized the guest bedroom shared a wall with her own.  The young man residing there had heard her cries in the night and stayed awake to pray for her as he had never prayed for another human before.  Nonetheless, he was waiting in the store when she arose in the morning.

“Miss Bergstrom,” he greeted her in English as she emerged from her quarters, “how are you this morning?”

In truth, that lady had a headache, but she pulled her lips into a semblance of a smile and gave a little shrug, “I am a little wrong, I think,” she laughed softly, “I voke after . . .
later
than usual.  Perhaps that is the reason.”

Karlijna hoped her explanation was acceptable to him.  He looked concerned
, and she would not have him worry over her.

He gently led her through the door into Ingrid’s kitchen, “You were not well last night, I think,” the apprehension was still displayed on his face.

Karlijna thought he was as kind a young man as she had ever met. He was obviously thinking she had gone home the evening before because of illness.

“I do not always keep my thoughts together,” she explained
, “I’m afraid my brain was not vith the talking of everybody.”

Michael gave a little grin, “I could see that,” he admitted, “but I was concerned that my questions were what caused you pain.”

Karlijna sat down. She knew she could not hide the truth. He deserved clarification, at least on some level.

“No
, Michael, you make a mistake. Your questions do not cause pain. The pain came from others.  Sometimes, the sorrow comes back vhen I think of my family, but it is not your fault.”

Michael nodded as he t
ook the seat across the table. She could see he wanted to ask more, but was holding back. That was just as well. It would not do to begin crying again when Olaf was to arrive in less than an hour.

“I am sorry I left in a sad mood.  I cause you vorry for that.”

“No,” he shook his head emphatically, “it was the crying last night that broke my heart.”

That he did not mean to say it was more than evident in the s
hocked look on the man’s face. He began to rise, but reseated himself heavily.

Karlijna, for her
part, was too stunned to move. She would have liked to deny it, but obviously he knew it was her.

“I am sorry to keep you awake,” she whispered, tears already clogging her throat, “I did not think to cry much, but sometimes.
. .” she could not finish. Speaking was taking up the strength she needed to keep from weeping again.

Michael reached across the ta
ble, “Please do not apologize. I spoke without thought. I hadn’t intended to bring it up at all, but I wanted to be sure you were okay.”

“Okay?” the girl looked up at him, tears evident in her gray eyes, but not leaving their place.

“Yes,” he pressed a handkerchief in her palm, “Okay, alright, fine.”

“Oh,” she gave a half-laugh, half-sob, “Okay.  This is the new vord.”

He could not laugh with her. The young man had no idea what this girl had gone through, but he had learned in the war that there were many horrific things that people had been forced to endure. There was no end to human suffering he had witnessed, and this young lady was yet another victim of the events that were playing out.

“I vill answer your qvestion,
” she surprised him by saying. She took a deep breath and released it slowly as if to prepare herself for a momentous task. “I have one brother and one sister. Their names are Benard and Veronike.”

After her reaction to his last question, he was not about to ask another, but he was curious.

She watched him for a moment before continuing, “I do not think they live.”

This was not what Michael expected, “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded slowly, a sad expression covering her features, though no more tears pressed their way through, “I am sorry too. I love them very much. My brother vas eighteen in January, and my sister vas just four. My father and brother vere taken to one camp and ve to another. Then my sister vas taken from Mama and me. Ve vere told those children died. In Mama’s grief, she vept so she was killed also.”

Michael had no words to reply.
He wondered how she continued.

Karlijna thought it was time to s
tand outside to wait for Olaf. She rose and looked down on the young man still seated.

“Thank you for listening to me.
”

He turned his face to her.

“I have told nobody about them, and it is good to talk. It helps mine heart to heal.”

Michael rose, his eyes never leaving her young face, “How do you. . .” he voice caught.

She waited for him to collect himself.

“How do you continue?
Do you not suffer of loneliness?”

Karlijna looked up at him.
He was taller than her by several inches, but his face was almost as innocent as a child. She knew he had not seen the things she had unwillingly witnessed. She also saw compassion.

“I only can survive by God’s grace,” she touched his arm.  “Only because He comforts me.”

Michael nodded, his own eyes suspiciously moist, “I am glad to have met you Miss Bergstrom. I believe the world is a better place because you are in it.”

The girl gave him a real smil
e this time, “Not me, Michael. It is Christ in me. And I am called Karlijna, please.”

Michael grinned back at her, “Karlijna,
then. I hope we meet again. I will be praying for you until then.”

Karlijna took great comfort in his
statement over the next week.  She found her nerves worn thin by the new duties of her job. She wondered more than occasionally in the duration how hard it would be to find another position.

Mr. Bea
uchamp was a challenge to her. He was initially annoyed by Mr. Sodergaard’s choice of interpreter. He made no secret of his dislike of a female undertaking the job.

“I am not satisfied with this girl,” he shouted at Karlijna’s boss while they sat in the front
parlor shortly after the Frenchman’s arrival.

The young woman tried to keep all expression from her face and voice as she relayed this message.

Mr. Sodergaard coughed uncomfortably, “Would you please ask him why.”

She did so and got a long lit
any of why he preferred a man. If they couldn’t get a man, he also added to his list of grievances, it should not be too much to expect an adult rather than a mere child. All this, she translated, word for word, making every effort to keep her voice void of inflection and her features blandly schooled.

“I’m sorry, Karlijna,” Mr. Sodergaard apologized, “please tell him I have utmost respect for your abilities
, and we have no other options since he did not deem it necessary to bring his own interpreter for this trip.”

This last part was said through clenched teeth and Karlijna raised her eyebrows at her employer before beginning the recitation.

Mr. Sodergaard waved his hand dismissively, “You’re right,” he agreed, though she hadn’t actually said a word, “leave off that last part.”

Mr. B
eauchamp sniffed at the reply. Karlijna almost laughed when he did so. The man looked to be in his thirties, but he acted like a petulant child.

“
Bonjour
,” Helga Sodergaard chose that moment to enter the room.

The woman was a good bit younger than her brother, but bore some physical resemblance to him.  She had his strong jaw line and slim build.  Her hair did not show the same signs of age as did her brother’s gray streaked locks, but it was the same dark brown as his had once been. 

Their eyes, Karlijna thought as she watched the woman speak in halting French to the visitor, were very dissimilar. Though both sets were green, the similarity ended there. While the brother’s were warm and full of humor, the sister’s eyes were disdainful and appeared always to be searching for a fault.

Karlijna realized with dismay that she had noticed Mr. Soderga
ard’s sister at church before. She had noticed her and had not gone out of her way to meet her. The woman was not friendly, and it was more than apparent, now that they were sharing temporary lodgings, that she did not feel Karlijna was worthy of her condescension.

“Helga,” Mr. Sodergaard addressed his sister, “why didn’t I know you spoke French?”

The woman laughed a little, “I can’t imagine how you could forget it, Roald. I took lessons for years.  But,” she looked at Karlijna, “my enunciation is very poor, is it not, Miss Bergstrom?”

Karlijna had no reply.
The other woman’s French was, indeed, very bad. But that would not be gracious or prudent information to offer.

She was saved from answering by Mr. Beauchamp.

“Tell that woman to stop annoying me with her prattle. She desecrates the French language with her use of it. It makes me sick.”

Karl
ijna’s face grew white at this. She swallowed convulsively before looking first to the woman in question and then at Mr. Sodergaard.

The plac
id expression on both people’s faces told the girl that their guest’s trick of speaking quickly worked. Neither knew what he had said.

She thought quickly and voiced what she said as a question, “I can’t repeat that or I will lose my job?”

Unexpectedly, the man threw back his head and laughed, “That was very clever. Well,” he waved his hand around the room with a flourish, “tell them I like this room.”

She turned to the other people, “He likes the way this room is decorated.”

Helga looked pleased with this, but Mr. Sodergaard looked suspicious.

“Tell him I did the decorating,” the woman urged.

Her brother raised an eyebrow, “I thought you spoke French.”

She lifted her nose at him, “I do
, but this is more convenient. Besides, what is your girl here for, but to translate?”

Mr. Sodergaard left the room then mutte
ring something about business. Karlijna wished she could follow.

Though Karlijna held little interest in the business matters Mr. Sodergaard and his guest were to discuss over the course of the week, the girl greatly preferred those exchanges to the nightly conversations between Helga and Mr. Beauchamp.

While the woman’s French was limited enough that she couldn’t make out half of what the French man was saying even when he spoke slowly, she was able to catch a familiar word or phrase occasionally. If the statement Mr. Beauchamp made was rude, as it frequently was, Karlijna altered the words to be inoffensive. It was proving to be a test of the quickness of Karlijna’s mind.

On occasion she was caught in the act, however.

“What part of France is your family originally from?” this was the third time Helga had tried to get this information from the man in the course of  two days.

Karlijna dutifully repeated the question, hoping for a gentler answer than the last one he had given.

“Are you wondering if my family is wealthy that you would ask such a thing?” his face was a mask of graciousness.  “Otherwise, I cannot imagine why the information would interest you.”

Karlijna answered as she had the other times, “His family is mainly from the north.”

This information he had offered her of his own accord the morning of his arrival so she knew it to be true.

Helga turned angry eyes from the handsome man to the young girl, “Obviously, he
said more than that, Karlijna. I demand to know what else he said.”

Karlijna looked to her boss, but Mr. Sodergaard was reading a newspaper and did not seem to be interested in the conversation of the room’s other inhabitants.

“He also wishes to know why you want to know,” Karlijna spoke softly.

Helga gave a superior smile as if this was a triumph, “You may tell him I w
ish to know him better. That is why I ask.”

Karlijna barely contained the grimace that threatened to mask her face, “She says she h
as no interest in your wealth. She just wishes to get to know more about you.”