The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend (4 page)

‘I'm in charge of the Broken Wheel newsletter,' she said over the clattering of cups and spoons.

She opened one of the bottom cupboards and found the sugar. Her hair swung around her as she bent down. ‘We write about all the big events here. Just a couple of years ago, a guy from New Jersey stopped by. Some kind of freelancer. He wanted to
find himself
but he moved to Hope after just two weeks and refused to give any interviews.'

It wasn't clear to Sara whether Jen was more put out by the moving to Hope or his refusal to give an interview.

‘One of my friends in Spencer does genealogy,' Jen continued over her shoulder. ‘I'm from Spencer. Moved here when I got married.' A resolute expression passed over her face. ‘Anyway, she did some research. Found relatives from Sweden. She was really pleased about that. Much better than relatives from Ireland or Germany, I told her. Everyone has relatives from there. Sweden is much more exotic.'

She glanced at Sara and quickly shook her head, presumably in despair at Sara herself being so ordinary.

‘What's your surname? Maybe you're related. Stranger things have happened, and there aren't so many people in Sweden, are there?'

‘Nine million.'

‘Do you have oaks?'

‘Oaks?'

‘Iowa's state tree. We've got fantastic oaks here.'

‘Yeah, we … we've got oaks.'

‘Do you have a few words you'd like to share?'

Sara didn't.

‘Nothing? Not even a little greeting? A first impression of our town, maybe?'

‘I've only been to the diner.'

‘I guess I'll just have to put something together,' Jen said. ‘I'm sure you'll come to love the town once you've got to know it.' Then added: ‘Don't worry, you'll express yourself nicely in the article. As soon as I've worked out what you're going to say.'

 

 

 

 

Broken Wheel, Iowa

August 23, 2009

Sara Lindqvist

Kornvägen 7, 1 tr

136 38 Haninge

Sweden

Dear Sara,

I'm pleased you liked Harper Lee. I don't have any real opinions on the Swedish title, but perhaps calling it ‘Mortal Sin' does make it sound more like a cheap thriller. You'd know better than me.

Since you liked
To Kill a Mockingbird
, I'm sending you Kathryn Stockett's
The Help
too. They've got racism in common, at least. I know there are those who doubt that racism is still such a big problem, but if you ask me it's only middle-aged people who think that, those who think the world has automatically become better simply because they're old enough to shape it now, but without any of them having made the slightest contribution to improving it. This is one of the few things which still gets me riled up. Too riled up, according to my good friend John. He's black and well past middle age, and he says that everything
is
much better. In Broken Wheel, in any case. John isn't much one for sweeping generalizations. I've no intention of claiming his view says anything about the world really, it's just because people around here are used to him. He's the only black person in town and he also runs the only shop which still sells milk, so how anyone could dislike him, I don't know. I think it's impossible not to like him, of course, but he doesn't agree with that either.

With kind regards,

Amy Harris

THERE WAS AN
old cinema in Broken Wheel, across the street from Grace's diner. Its classic fifties architecture lent a certain dignity to that side of Main Street, but the cinema itself had long since stopped showing the latest releases. Then it had stopped showing films altogether. The projector had broken. These days the building was used only for town council meetings.

Calling the group of people who met there the town council was a bit like calling the cinema a cinema; it said more about what they had once been than what they were now. In the past, there had been elections and a certain prestige in being a member. There had been money to spend and battles to be fought over what it should be spent on: new benches outside one of the churches; new street lights; the colour of the benches; the type of street lights. Whether the cinema was the pride of the town or the ruin of its children.

Nowadays, only a handful of the town's 637 residents were still interested in being involved in what went on in the town, and there was no longer any money to be spent.

Still, they continued to meet on Thursdays every other week, gathering along the front row of cinema seats.

With an air of faint dejection, Caroline Rohde watched as Jen gestured energetically up on the little stage in front of what had once been the screen.

‘A tourist!' Jen was saying, and Caroline resisted the urge to massage her temples.

The town's latest tourist wave was the sole item on the agenda, and Caroline was already deeply tired of it.

She missed Amy Harris. Caroline knew that people thought she was much too hard-hearted, much too particular about everything relating to God and Jesus, and, ultimately, that she was boring. But she also knew that towns needed someone to keep an eye on them and someone to help them out; someone who knew what was right and someone who knew what was good. Caroline was one of those people, and Amy had been another. Things had always worked well while Amy was alive, but now Caroline felt alone and insufficient.

She had never been able to help people like Amy could. Amy always seemed to know precisely what people wanted to hear. Caroline knew only what they
should
hear, and the two were very rarely the same thing.

But both of them were needed, and now Caroline was the only one left and she would have to take care of this tourist who started shaking the moment you spoke to her.

Amy had a lot to answer for there. May she rest in peace, of course.

Which would be easy for her, since Caroline was the one stuck down here with all the hard work to do. She certainly wouldn't get any help from the rest of the town council.

There were three of them left. Caroline presumed that Jen Hobson took part because she dreamed of turning Broken Wheel into the same kind of middle-class commuter paradise as Hope, perfect for folks working in Cedar Rapids. Jen was born in what she called ‘nice, pleasant' Spencer, in the north-west of Iowa, and Caroline couldn't help but think that it would have been no great loss to the town if she had just stayed there. But Jen's husband was from Broken Wheel and was, by all accounts, as nice as you could expect a Hobson to be. They had never exactly been known for their intelligence, but Caroline didn't care for judging people on things they had no control over. There were enough conscious sins to focus on. However, she couldn't escape the suspicion that Jen saw the move to Broken Wheel as some kind of personal failing and that annoyed her. She couldn't imagine Spencer having anything that Broken Wheel didn't. Plus, Jen had only been living here for ten years.

The town had its problems and its shortcomings, of course, things which Caroline herself didn't hesitate to point out, but the idea that someone from
outside
could look down on the town and want to change things … she shook her head.

She wasn't afraid to contribute, though. Caroline had to admit that much. But if only Jen had as much sense as she did energy, she would have been able to accomplish so much more. She was in charge of Broken Wheel's newsletter, as well as its only journalist and its main source of news. She ran a
blog
about the town, too. Caroline had never cared to find out what, exactly, a blog was. No good could come from such a thing, of that much she was sure. As far as she knew, the only people who even read the newsletter were Jen's relatives, all of them living in Spencer. None of them had shown any interest in moving to Broken Wheel despite, or perhaps because of, the newsletter.

She didn't have much more time for the other member of the town council. Andy, the last member of the Walsh family still living in town. Caroline had truly disliked his father, Andrew Walsh Senior, and was prepared to forgive Andy a lot just because he wasn't him. But there were limits.

Andy ran the Square, the town's most popular bar, along with his much-too-close friend Carl; he had once lived as far away as Denver. Caroline didn't like gossip, but on the other hand there was no need to invite it either, coming home from Denver and taking over a bar with your …
good friend
.

Today, Andy was wearing vivid blue jeans, a checked shirt and a belt with a buckle that looked as though it weighed as much as his cowboy boots. He pulled it all off quite well, but his clothes were much too new-looking. In Caroline's eyes, he looked like a tourist, fresh from the east coast, despite his family having lived in Broken Wheel for generations.

‘A tourist in Broken Wheel,' he said, standing up and joining Jen on the stage.

‘It's strange,' she added, ‘that we don't have more.'

‘Not
that
strange,' Caroline said. She often spoke in italics. ‘And a tourist without a driver's licence.'

She remained where she was, sitting in one of the comfortable cinema seats. It had been twelve years since the last movie had played, but the scent of popcorn and melted butter still lingered faintly. It didn't awaken any memories of dates Caroline had gone on long ago, but she was impressed that the chairs' fabric was still in such good condition.

‘We've got to find things for her to do,' said Jen. ‘She's got to be entertained!'

‘With what?' asked Andy. ‘That's the big question.'

‘Trips, mainly,' Jen replied. ‘All that beautiful nature. The oaks!'

‘And the corn,' Caroline added drily. She was actually just as fond of oaks as the others, she was even chair of the Association for the Preservation of Oaks, but they were far from being a tourist trap.

‘Not just corn,' said Andy. ‘Soybeans too.'

‘Maybe Tom can drive her,' Jen said, as though the thought had just struck her. ‘When he's not working, I mean.'

Caroline closed her eyes. The innocent tone wasn't fooling her. My goodness, she thought. The woman had barely been in town two days and Jen had already started offering up its young men to her altar. Though, to be fair, it might just as well have been the woman being sacrificed. Like the oaks, the town's bachelors weren't exactly a tourist attraction.

For once, Andy and Jen didn't seem to be on the same wavelength. ‘Tom?' he asked dumbly, though anyone could have guessed where Jen was heading.

She hesitated. ‘Yeah, Tom …' she said. ‘I was wondering whether they might not … get on well?' Her gaze was fixed somewhere above Caroline's head. ‘Don't you think a holiday romance would be just the thing to get her to enjoy her time here?'

Andy laughed. ‘Yeah, why not? Tom's never been much good at picking up women. And this Sara, she seems like she'd need a push too. I'll talk to Tom and warn him about his duties.'

Jen didn't seem to want to go that far. ‘I wonder if it's not better to just let things happen a bit more naturally …'

‘It would be better not to let it happen at all,' said Caroline. If she knew Jen, she wouldn't be satisfied with a simple holiday romance – which would have been bad enough. She was probably already dreaming about a wedding and then yet another person to add to the population statistics, maybe even several, with special editions of the newsletter on weddings, births and christenings following one after another.

‘We can ask Tom to drive her in any case,' said Jen.

‘George can drive her,' said Caroline. ‘We can pay him for it. Symbolically anyway. We can start a collection.'

Anything worth doing was worth doing with a collection.

She caught the quick glance Andy and Jen exchanged but she didn't care. All towns needed a woman who kept an eye on what was what. She knew that they laughed at her behind her back, but at least she got things done. And no one dared laugh when she was within earshot.

‘But is poor George …' Jen seemed to be searching for a euphemism but eventually gave up. ‘… sober enough?'

‘He hasn't had a drink in a month,' Caroline said. ‘His hands hardly even shake any more. He needs something useful to do, rather than just sitting at That Woman's drinking coffee all day.'

‘A good man,' Jen mumbled.

‘George is driving her,' said Caroline, and with that it was decided.

 

 

 

 

Broken Wheel, Iowa

October 9, 2009

Sara Lindqvist

Kornvägen 7, 1 tr

136 38 Haninge

Sweden

Dear Sara,

Broken Wheel isn't actually much of a town. There's very little about it that's interesting. There's actually very little of it in general. But I like it. I was born and raised here, and that makes all the difference.

There's one big street called, quite simply, Main Street, and then there are three others crossing it. They're called Second Street, Third Street and Jimmie Coogan Street. The last one might need some explanation. Until '87 it was called Fourth Street (we're a prosaic, literal bunch without any predilection for flourishes or big words). But now it's named after a real joker. I'm glad. It gives the town a certain dignity to have had one.

With kind regards,

Amy Harris

READING BOOKS ISN'T
a bad way to live your life, but lately Sara had begun to wonder what kind of life it was, exactly. She had first been struck by this thought when she found out that Josephssons would be closing. It was as though ten years of her life had disappeared along with the bookshop; as though everything she had ever been had only existed on the greyish-white bookshelves of that dusty shop, among the people who bought four-for-three paperbacks in the summer, and anything-at-all-that-was-shiny-and-wrapped-up at Christmas.