Annika Thor - A Faraway Island

That afternoon Stephie goes to Auntie Alma’s. Their summer guests won’t be arriving until the next day. Auntie Alma, Nellie, Elsa, and John are just moving the last of their things down to the basement.

“I heard you got a book as an award at school,” Auntie Alma says.

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, I want you to know how proud Nellie was of her big sister when she came home and told us. You’re certainly a clever girl, I must say.”

“Not that it will matter,” Stephie answers.

“What do you mean?”

“Being clever at school. Since I’m not to be allowed to continue anyway.”

“To grammar school?”

Stephie nods.

“Well, you have to understand Märta and Evert’s situation,” Auntie Alma tells her. “It’s very expensive to have a child who boards in Göteborg. Not to mention the books and all the other costs.”

“I think Uncle Evert would let me go. Aunt Märta’s the one who’s against it.”

Auntie Alma sits quietly for a few minutes.

“Has it ever occurred to you that Märta might not want to see you go off to Göteborg?” she asks. “That she would miss you?”

It’s so ridiculous Stephie has to laugh. Aunt Märta, miss her!

“She doesn’t even like me,” she answers. “I can’t imagine why she took me in.”

“Has Märta ever told you about Anna-Lisa?” Auntie Alma asks. “Or has Evert, for that matter?”

“No. Who’s Anna-Lisa?”

“Anna-Lisa was Märta and Evert’s daughter,” Auntie Alma tells her. “Their only child.”

“I didn’t know they had children.”

“It’s fourteen years now since she passed away,” says Auntie Alma. “She was twelve when she died.”

“What did she die of?”

“Anna-Lisa was never a healthy child. Even as a baby she was often ill. Märta took wonderful care of her and was always very protective. But when Anna-Lisa was eleven she was diagnosed with tuberculosis. She lived her last six months at a sanatorium on the mainland, far away. The doctors said the dry inland country air would do her good. But it didn’t help.”

“The knitted cap,” Stephie says. “And the sled.”

“What about them?” asks Auntie Alma.

“Presents I’ve been given. They must have been hers. Anna-Lisa’s.”

It’s strange to think that the cap and mittens she wore all winter once belonged to another girl, a girl who died before she herself was born. Did Anna-Lisa ever wear them? Or did she die before Aunt Märta finished knitting them?

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Stephie asks. “Why don’t they have any photographs of her at home?”

“It was terribly painful for Märta,” Auntie Alma tells her. “She couldn’t even bear to see a picture of her after-ward. For over a year, Märta walked around more dead than alive herself. If she hadn’t had her faith in God, who knows where it would have ended. You should have seen her before, when Anna-Lisa was alive. So different from the way she is now. Full of life and afraid of nothing. She had an answer to every question and never hesitated to speak her mind. Though there was never a harsh word to Anna-Lisa, I’m sure. Märta was as careful of her as if she had been made of china.”

“But why did she take me in?”

“I don’t know. I’ve wondered myself. Perhaps out of the desire to save a child, because she wasn’t able to save Anna-Lisa.”

“Why couldn’t I live with you?” The words slip out of Stephie’s mouth before she can stop them. “We were supposed to stay with the same family. They promised.”

“I know,” said Auntie Alma. “I would have been happy to take you both, but Sigurd was against it. He felt one was enough. So the relief committee asked if I could find another family on the island, so you’d at least be close to each other. Märta never hesitated. But she didn’t want a little child, and so it was you.”

“Stephie!” Nellie shouts from behind the house. “Stephie, come see what we found!”

Auntie Alma smiles. “Run along and play,” she says. “It’s no use brooding. We have to make the best of our lot in life.”

Stephie goes around to the backyard. Nellie and the little ones have pulled up a fat worm in Auntie Alma’s potato patch. It’s suspended between Nellie’s thumb and index finger.

“Just look at this yucky thing,” Nellie shouts gleefully.

Stephie takes the worm from Nellie. It squirms between her fingers.

“Let’s put it back now,” she says. “It wants to be in the soil.”

Carefully, she places the worm next to a potato plant. It vanishes quickly down into the ground.

“The worm went home,” says John. “To his house.”

When Stephie is ready to leave, Auntie Alma calls her inside.

“I’ve got something for you,” she says secretively.

On the kitchen table is a flat, soft package.

“For me?”

“Yes, for you.”

“But why? My birthday’s not until July.”

“I know, but it’s something you need now. Aren’t you going to open it?”

Stephie removes the ribbon and unwraps her present. It’s a bathing suit. Red with white polka dots and a frilly neckline.

“It’s beautiful!” Stephie gushes. She holds the bathing suit up to her front. It looks just right.

“I think it should fit you,” Auntie Alma says. She smiles. “So now you can swim a lot this summer and not have to spend your time sitting on the beach.”

“Do you think,” Stephie asks her, “that if Anna-Lisa had lived she would have had to wear some old, hand-me-down bathing suit?”

“If Anna-Lisa had lived,” Auntie Alma replies, “you might not have been here at all.” She smiles again. “You know, I’d really like to see you try the bathing suit on before you go home.”

Stephie goes up to Nellie’s room and pulls the bathing suit on. It’s perfect. Tomorrow she’s going to the beach.

There’s a separate door to the basement at the back of the house. Every morning Stephie goes out through it, around the house, and up the front steps. She knocks on the door and waits.

Sometimes the doctor’s wife answers, but more often it’s the daughter, Karin. The moment the door opens Putte comes running, wagging his tail and licking Stephie’s hands and knees. Karin goes and gets his leash from its hook in the hall and clips it onto his collar.

“Do you need any errands run?” Stephie always asks.

Some days there’s a letter to mail or something the doctor’s wife has forgotten to order from the shop. The shopkeeper hires a messenger boy for the summer, and the boy delivers orders to the summer guests on a bicycle with a big metal box on the front. The summer guests phone in their orders.

If she’s going to do an errand at the post office or the shop, Stephie usually takes the bike, tying Putte’s leash to the handlebars. He runs alongside. Otherwise she takes him for a walk along little paths too narrow to bike on. Putte noses around, sniffing, straining eagerly at the leash. Stephie almost has to run to keep up.

She’s not allowed to take off Putte’s leash, but sometimes she can’t resist. He just loves to fetch sticks she throws, and always comes when she calls. If Stephie’s sitting on a rock, he often comes over and puts his head in her lap, wanting to be scratched behind the ears and under the chin.

When Stephie returns with Putte, she usually finds the doctor’s wife and Karin and her fiancé enjoying their morning coffee at the table in the yard. Uncle Evert set up the furniture in the shade over by the rock face. The doctor works in Göteborg all week, and joins his family only on weekends. Stephie doesn’t know where Sven spends his time. She imagines him sleeping late.