The Lily Pond (18 page)

When Sven stops in at her room later in the evening, she has all her presents stacked up on the desk.

“Quite a pile,” he comments.

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m not celebrating Christmas this year. I’ve told Mamma and Papa I’m not going to Värmland with them.”

“Goodness, why not?”

“Don’t you see? How can people celebrate a holiday about peace on earth when the world is in flames? It’s so hypocritical. I’m going to donate the money I would have spent on Christmas presents to the refugee aid fund.”

A long silence. Sven twirls a pen he picked up from the desk distractedly. She’s got to say something; otherwise he’ll just go back into his own room.

“So what
are
you going to do during the vacation?” she asks. “Since you’re not going along to Värmland.”

“Nothing special. Stay home. Study, which I need to do. Read. Take care of Putte so he doesn’t have to go with them. He hates train travel.”

“Won’t it be boring for you to be all alone for so long? Everybody else will be celebrating Christmas with their families.”

Sven gazes at her. A little twitch at the corner of his mouth makes him look amused, as if he knows she’s worrying about him.

“I don’t mind at all,” he says. “I’ll have Putte to keep me company.”

The next day the whole school assembles in the auditorium. The school chorus sings and the principal addresses the girls. One of the older pupils reads a poem. Then everyone goes to their classrooms to get their report cards.

Hedvig Björk calls them up to her desk one by one, in alphabetical order. Stephie is fourth to last on the class list. When it’s finally her turn, she immediately looks at her grades. Top marks in math, biology, and art. Nearly the highest grade in most of her other subjects, but in German she only gets a pass.

Hedvig Björk thanks the class for a good semester and wishes them all happy holidays and a pleasant vacation.

In the hall the girls exchange Christmas cards and presents and compare their grades.

“What did you get in math?” Alice asks Stephie, clearly trying to sound nonchalant.

“An A.”

“Me too. What about German?”

“Just a C. And you?”

“An A,” Alice announces.

It’s not as if Stephie begrudges Alice her grade. She wouldn’t have been envious if Alice had done better than she had in math, or in any other subject, for that matter. But in German! Stephie knows that’s not fair. Miss Krantz just doesn’t like her, and no matter how well Stephie does, her teacher will always find something to criticize.

Stephie gives May her Christmas present, and May gives her a little package in return.

“Have a merry Christmas,” says May. “See you in the new year.”

The first week in January, May is coming to visit Stephie on the island. She’ll stay for three days.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Stephie says. “I’ll show you everything. And you’ll get to know Vera and Nellie.”

They walk partway together, as usual. When they get to May’s tram stop, Stephie is thinking about how much she’s going to miss her, even though they’ll see each other in only two weeks.

When Stephie gets to the Söderbergs’ apartment, she goes up to her room to change. Her suitcase is packed, and the boat is leaving in an hour. Sven isn’t home. The long, thin package with his letter opener is still on her desk. She takes a piece of paper and writes.

She tapes the note to the present and hangs it on his door handle by the ribbon as she leaves.

island is shrouded in ice and snow. Even though Aunt Märta and Stephie feed the wood-burning furnace in the basement until it’s full at bedtime, there are still frost roses on the windows when they wake up in the mornings.

“If this goes on,” Aunt Märta says, “this winter is likely to be even more bitterly cold than the last one.”

And the colder it gets, the more Aunt Märta’s knees ache. She can just barely climb up on the footstool, and there is no way she can get down on her knees. It therefore falls to Stephie to scrub the floors and hang up the newly ironed Christmas curtains. The house smells lovely, of detergent and fresh bread.

Preparing for Christmas is a time-consuming business,
and in the evenings Stephie and Vera go sledding on the hill by the school. When she gets home, cheeks rosy and coat snowy, she is so tired she drops right into bed and is asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. She barely has time to think about Mamma and Papa’s travels. But once Christmas is over, the presents opened and most of the Christmas food consumed, she starts to worry again. Have they left? Where are they? Why haven’t they written?

In the end she asks Aunt Märta if she can phone the Söderbergs’ apartment and ask if there is a letter waiting for her.

Elna answers.

Stephie asks to speak with Sven. If a letter has arrived, she’ll ask him to open it and read it to her over the phone.

“Sven?” asks Elna. “He’s not here. I think he went to the country place of a classmate. And he took the dog along. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Strange
, Stephie thinks. Sven told her he was going to be staying home with Putte. He must have been bored after all.

“Are there any letters for me?”

“If you’ll wait, I’ll look.”

In a couple of minutes, Elna returns to the telephone.

“Nothing but a postcard with Christmas greetings from a Hedvig Björk.”

“Elna,” says Stephie, “if I get a letter while I’m still away, would you mind forwarding it here? It’s very important.”

“Well, I suppose,” Elna replies.

Stephie gives her Aunt Märta and Uncle Evert’s address, thanks her, and hangs up.

It was nice of Hedvig Björk to send her a card, anyway. Stephie wonders if she sent one to every girl in the class, or just to her.

After Christmas, the temperature falls, and the sea begins to freeze over. First the shallow coves turn to ice, and then the ice spreads. Soon there are just a few strips of open water where the currents are strongest.

They spend New Year’s Eve at Auntie Alma and Uncle Sigurd’s, but there is no real celebration. It is as if the war is keeping them all from being hopeful about the future. The only ones who are excited are Elsa and John, Auntie Alma’s little ones, but they have to go to bed at nine.

Stephie and Nellie are allowed to stay up and hear the ringing in of the new year on the radio. They sleep over; it’s too cold and dark to make the long walk home so late. Aunt Märta and Uncle Evert get the guest room, while Stephie and Nellie sleep head to foot in Nellie’s bed.

“Ow, stop kicking!”

“I’m not. And you’re tickling me.”

“Hold on,” Nellie says, diving under the blanket. A moment later she appears at Stephie’s end of the bed, warm and disheveled.

“This is better,” she says, settling in next to her sister.

Stephie sits up, stretches for Nellie’s pillow, and gives it to her.

“Stephie?”

“What?”

“Do you think Mamma and Papa celebrated New Year’s Eve tonight, too?”

“I’m sure they did.”

“Do you think they thought about us?”

“Oh, yes,” says Stephie. “Wherever they are and whatever they are doing, I know they’re thinking about us.”

But when Nellie has fallen asleep, curled up against her, Stephie lies awake wondering why, why, why no letter has arrived.

On New Year’s Day, she phones again. Maybe the letter came and Elna forgot to forward it.

She’d also like to wish Sven a happy new year. But although she lets the phone ring and ring, no one answers.

The snow is squeaky under the soles of her boots when she goes to the boat to meet May. Aunt Märta has tied a heavy shawl over Stephie’s coat. Stephie protested, but once she was out in the cold, she was glad to have it on.

It’s a strange feeling, being at the boat to meet a visitor, when she’s accustomed to being the one who is met.

She can see the trail of white smoke long before the steamboat itself is visible. Eventually it rounds the point of the nearest island and heads for the harbor. Stephie stands on the dock in the wind, shivering with cold.

Even before the gangway has been put out, May is on the foredeck waving, and she’s the first passenger to disembark. Not that many people come out to the island at this time of year, but there are some islanders aboard who appear to be returning from new year’s celebrations elsewhere.

“Oh, it’s beautiful here,” says May. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

Stephie looks around. The snow is gleaming, glaringly white in the sun, and shades of blue where there are shadows. Transparent icicles are hanging from the shingles of the boathouses. The wind is singing in the rigging of the boats. She’s pleased the island is at its prettiest for May’s arrival.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she says. “Let me take your suitcase.”

But May only has a rucksack, and she doesn’t want to take it off her back.

“It’s keeping me warm.”

They walk through the village. Stephie points things out, keeping up a running commentary.

“That’s where Uncle Evert’s boat is docked when they’re in port. She’s the
Diana
. Over there are the school and the shop. And there’s the Pentecostal church.” That reminds Stephie about something. “May,” she adds, “I want you to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell Aunt Märta you don’t believe in God. If you do, she might not think you are a suitable friend for me.”

May laughs. “What do you think I’m like, anyway? Do you think I tell everybody I meet absolutely everything about myself? I won’t say an improper word to your aunt Märta. I promise.”

The sledding hill is full of children. Stephie sees Vera’s red hair as she pulls her sled up. Stephie waves, but Vera doesn’t seem to see her.

“This is where my little sister lives,” Stephie says when they pass Auntie Alma’s yellow house.

“Why don’t you live together? I mean, here on the island?”