Until We Reach Home (24 page)

“I wish I could wake up back home and find out that this was all just a dream,” Kirsten said.

Elin looked at her in surprise. “I would expect a comment like that from Sofia, but not from you. What’s wrong?”

“I heard someone say that from now on we’ll be Americans, not Swedes, and it made me feel . . . lost.”

“At least we’re together,” Elin said. “And we will have a home again, I promise. When we get to Chicago, we can finally settle into our brand-new life.”

Sofia heard the conviction in Elin’s voice and believed her. But she battled her tears as she watched the ferry approach. She had been looking everywhere, but there was still no sign of Ludwig. The sailors lowered the gangway. They inspected everyone’s ticket, then herded Sofia and her sisters onto the ship.

“So, this is it,” Elin said. “Take one last look at Lady Liberty over there. From now on we’re not going to shed another tear—promise?”

“I promise,” Kirsten said softly. Sofia nodded, but she didn’t know how she would ever be able to keep such a promise.

“We have each other,” Elin said, “and that’s all we need.”

As soon as she boarded the ferry, Sofia pushed her way to the rail for one last look at Ellis Island—and there was Ludwig standing alone on shore. He lifted his hand to her in a wave, and she waved in return. She forced herself not to cry, afraid her tears would blur her last vision of him. She kept her eyes pinned to him until the island grew so small she could no longer see him.

At last she went inside and found a place to sit down. She wanted to be alone when she read the slip of paper Ludwig had given her. On it was a verse from Genesis. She opened her satchel to retrieve her Bible and slid her fingers beneath the violin’s wrappings to feel the warm, smooth wood. Ludwig would find her again. The violin was his promise to her.

She opened her Bible and read the final verse Ludwig had given her:
May the Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other.

PART II
Chicago
MAY 1897

“There is only one journey.
Going inside yourself.”

R
AINER
M
ARIA
R
ILKE

Chapter Twenty-One

E
LIN’S HEART SPED
up as the train’s momentum slowed. They were reaching the end of their journey. They had left the farmland behind and had entered the outskirts of the city of Chicago several minutes ago. The buildings were becoming larger and more densely packed; streetcars and wagons and carriages filled the roads. Little children gathered at the railroad crossings to watch the train steam past and wave at the passengers.

Kirsten knelt on the seat and slid open the window to lean out, just as she had when they’d begun this journey back home in Sweden. “Be careful,” Elin warned. “You shouldn’t lean out so far.” Kirsten ignored her, of course. Her hair blew wildly as it came loose from its pins.

They passed through a desolate area of factories and warehouses. Boxcars sat on side rails waiting to be emptied and filled. They were evidently getting very close.

“I think I see the train station up ahead,” Kirsten said. “It looks like a huge whale with its mouth open. We’re about to be swallowed any minute.” Some of the other passengers stood up in the aisles, gathering their belongings as the brakes hissed and the train slowed.

Elin tugged on Kirsten’s skirt. “Please, sit down and be ladylike. And you need to tidy your hair. We want to make a good first impression on Uncle Lars.”

“Why?”

It took Elin a moment to formulate a reply. She longed for her aunt and uncle to embrace them as their own daughters, to love them and take care of them. But she had wanted the same thing from Uncle Sven—and look where that had led. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Because we’re Mama’s daughters,” she finally replied. “Uncle Lars was her favorite brother. The way we behave reflects on her and how she raised us.”

Kirsten turned around and slid into her seat with a sigh. A moment later the train entered the station, plunging them into semidarkness.

“Look around and make sure we have everything,” Elin said, even though she and her sisters had been ready for the past hour, their needlework and books stowed in their bags. Sofia sat with her satchel on her lap, cradling it as if it contained a sleeping infant.

She had seemed happier and less fearful after their ordeal at Ellis Island. Kirsten had been quieter and more subdued than usual, too. The change in both of them reminded Elin of the transformation new mothers underwent after enduring the pain and exhaustion of childbirth. The moment they held their baby in their arms, dreams of the future erased the sorrows of the past. This journey had birthed a new life in all three of them, and although the future was still unformed, Elin hoped that with time and patience, their lives would grow into something miraculous.

“We’re here,” Kirsten said when the train halted.

Elin stood and felt her knees trembling. Part of it was the lingering weakness from her bout with typhus, but most of her shakiness was emotional. They had arrived at their destination at last: Chicago, their new home. Elin could rest and be a sister again after trying to be a mother to Kirsten and Sofia for so long. She wouldn’t have to be strong and decisive anymore. She had brought her sisters to safety.

As they stepped off the train, Elin saw many of her fellow passengers rushing forward to greet waiting loved ones. She looked around hopefully, studying the strangers’ faces, searching for their uncle.

“Do you remember what Uncle Lars looks like?” Kirsten asked.

“Not really. I was a child when he left. But it seems to me he was tall and thin and looked a lot like Nils—or I guess Nils resembled him.”

They continued walking, surveying the area. Minutes passed, and when no one came forward to greet them, Elin could see the disappointment on her sisters’ faces. She smiled to mask her own.

“Come on, we’d better find our trunk.” Carts piled high with luggage were being wheeled past them from the baggage car. Elin beckoned to her sisters to follow her to the baggage claim area. They quickly found their trunk, but Elin couldn’t spare the money to hire a porter to carry it for them, as many other people were doing. Kirsten and Sofia would have to haul it a little farther.

“I’ll be so glad to get rid of this behemoth,” Kirsten said, grunting as she lifted one end of it. “It’s like dragging around a dead troll with handles on his sides.”

The crowds diminished, the platform emptied, and still no one came forward to meet them. They went inside the cavernous station—deeper into the belly of the whale, as Kirsten had called it—and sat down on a bench to wait.

“We sent a telegram,” Kirsten said. “Uncle Lars must know we’re arriving today.”

“Be patient, Kirsten. There’s nothing we can do but wait.” Kirsten wasn’t patient, of course. And Elin had to admit, after the first hour passed, that she was losing patience, too, as her anxiety increased.

Kirsten stood and set her satchel down on the bench. “I’m tired of sitting. I’m going for a walk.”

Elin opened her mouth to caution her, then closed it again. Kirsten and Sofia had already proven that they could get along fine without her warnings and admonitions. She watched as Kirsten circled the perimeter of the room, searching the huge, high-ceilinged station as if their relatives were hiding and would spring out like children playing a game.

“How are they supposed to recognize us?” Kirsten asked when she returned to the bench and sank down again with a sigh.

“Look at us,” Sofia said, gesturing to her coarse cotton skirt and embroidered vest. “Do you see anyone else in the station dressed in Swedish clothes?”

“She’s right,” Elin said, trying to remain cheerful. “We do stick out like goats in a sheep pen.”

“I’d prefer to think we’re lilies among thorns,” Sofia corrected.

“No, I think Elin is closer to the truth,” Kirsten said. “We do look like misfits. I hope Uncle Lars lets us buy some American clothes.” She leaned back on the bench, but her impatience showed in her jiggling foot and drumming fingers.

Another hour passed. People continued to stream in and out of the station, and every time someone approached them Elin would look up, feeling hopeful, only to be disappointed again.

“We have Uncle Lars’ address. Can’t we just go there?” Kirsten asked when they were well into their third hour of waiting.

“How would we get there? On foot? We don’t know how far away he lives.”

“And I’m not dragging this trunk another inch,” Sofia added.

Kirsten exhaled her frustration. “Well, that stinks like dead fish!”

Elin was frustrated, too, but she remained convinced that eventually Uncle Lars would arrive if they were patient. They waited another half hour, and the sound of Kirsten’s fingers drumming on the armrest became so irritating that Elin laid her hand on top of Kirsten’s to make her stop.

“See that line of carriages out there by the curb?” Kirsten asked. “I’ll bet they’re for hire. Want me to go ask?”

Elin winced. “I don’t think we should get into a wagon with a stranger. We don’t know our way around the city. He could take us anywhere. We would be at his mercy.”

“Why must you always believe the worst about people?” Kirsten asked. “I’m sure there are honest, God-fearing wagon drivers in America.”

Her naïveté made Elin angry. But the realization that Uncle Sven’s treachery had caused her to lose faith in people made Elin angrier still. “I’m sure you’re right, Kirsten, but how are we going to find a God-fearing one? No one speaks Swedish, and we don’t speak English.”

“There must be something we can do besides sit here.”

“Well, you’ll have to think of it, then. I’m tired of solving every problem.”

“I did think of a solution—hire a wagon!”

“Listen to the two of you,” Sofia said. “A few days ago we promised we would work together from now on, and you’re already snapping at each other.”

Elin remembered how happy they all had been after being reunited, and she made up her mind to try to compromise with her sisters. She waited until her anger diffused and she was certain she could speak in a calm voice, then said, “What do you think we should do, Sofia?”

“I think . . . I think Uncle Lars would have been here by now if he was coming. Maybe he never got our telegram. I think Kirsten is right. We should see how much a wagon costs and how far away Uncle Lars lives.”

“How are we going to do that?” Elin asked. “We don’t speak English.”

“Well . . . I got pretty good at sign language when I was waiting on Ellis Island,” Sofia said. “I could try talking to one of the drivers.”

Kirsten sprang from the bench and lifted one end of the trunk. Sofia lifted the other end. Once again, the change in her sisters surprised Elin.

The line of wagons was indeed for hire and several of the drivers raced over to assist them, babbling loudly and pointing to their wagons as soon as the sisters emerged through the door with their trunk. Sofia paused and seemed to be sizing up each man in her mind, finally choosing a friendly looking middle-aged driver who had the cleanest clothes and, Elin noticed, a kind smile. He was the only one who had removed his hat in respect. His wagon was clean, too, his horse alert and well fed. Sofia’s discernment surprised Elin.

Sofia made a sweeping motion with her arm, taking in the three of them and their baggage, then showed the driver Uncle Lars’ address on one of the letters he’d sent. The man nodded and pointed in the direction his carriage faced, speaking with confidence as if he did indeed know the way.

He pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket and jingled them in his palm. “He wants to negotiate the price,” Sofia said. “How much money do we have?”

“Uncle Lars sent me some American money, but I don’t know how much it’s worth.”

“Well, give me some of it—but don’t let him see how much more we have.” They huddled together as Elin shook out some coins into Sofia’s palm. Then Sofia turned and held out her open hand to the driver. He winced and shook his head, chattering away as if they could understand him perfectly and motioning as if their destination was well beyond the station. Sofia turned around and picked out a few more coins. After two or three tries, they finally agreed on a price.

“Come on, he’s going to take us,” Sofia said. The man hoisted their trunk onto his shoulder and stowed it in the back of his wagon. Then he helped them onto the seat behind his and snapped the reins.

“Finally!” Kirsten said as the wagon merged into the stream of traffic. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I hate being at the mercy of a stranger,” Elin said. “He could take us anywhere.”
And do anything
, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

The farther they drove from the station, the more fascinating and exciting the city appeared. Elin perched on the edge of her seat as she tried to take it all in, and she noticed that her heart was beating faster again. Tall brick buildings lined both sides of the streets as if the wagon were driving through the bottom of a canyon. Striped awnings and brightly painted signs decorated many of the buildings, along with elaborate carvings and fancy stonework over the windows and doors. Elin saw more horses and carriages than she’d ever seen in one place, and pedestrians wearing the most unusual clothes she’d ever seen. The streetcars ran on rails and carried dozens of passengers at one time, driving right down the center of the street. The pace of life seemed to have speeded up in Chicago as if the world turned faster here than it did in Sweden.

“This is amazing,” Kirsten said.

Elin heard the same awe in her voice that she was feeling. “I never imagined that America would be like this.”

“It’s very different from home,” Sofia said. “There are hardly any trees. And the ones I do see aren’t very tall.”

“I think that’s because most of the city burned down about twenty-five years ago,” Elin said. “Uncle Lars told me all about it in his letters. Chicago’s trees haven’t had time to grow as tall as the ones in Sweden.”

“Are we near the ocean?” Sofia asked.