The Wooden Chair (7 page)

“Is it a girl rabbit or a boy rabbit?”

He caressed Leini’s hair. “It’s a boy.”

Holding the rabbit with both hands, she kissed the bunny’s cheek, his whiskers tickling her. She laughed about to burst from so much joy inside. “Thank you, Grandpa. I love you.”

He hugged her, rabbit and all. “Love you, too, little princess. What are you going to call him?”

The question surprised her. She wrinkled her brow and stared at the rabbit for a while. Then she smiled. “I know,” she said. “His name is Whitey.”

“Whitey? Because he’s white?”

Leini’s head bobbed up and down. Grandpa planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “It’s a nice name.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. Then it was as if a light was switched off inside and all her gladness went away. A hand flew to her head, fingers lost in a lock of hair, twining and twining.

Grandpa took her hand to untangled fingers from hair. “What is it, princess? Something’s worrying you?”

“What will Mamma say about Whitey? She said she didn’t want animals.” Tears ran along her cheeks. “She’ll take him away from me.”

“No, she won’t. As long as you don’t bring Whitey inside you’ll both be all right.”

In the afternoon, while they were having tea, Leini told Mamma about Whitey. She described his silky white fur and twitching nose.

“And he has these long ears.” She measured with her hands. “His eyes are red. He’s so cute, Mamma.”

“Fine,” Mamma said. “Just make sure you keep it outside. And wash your hands when you’re through playing with it.”

The knot of worry in Leini’s tummy relaxed a bit. After all, Mamma was going to let her keep Whitey.

* * *

The swallows knew right—the next day was glorious, sunny and balmy with hardly any wind. Next to Leini by the table Mamma sipped tea. With a finger, she poked Leini’s hand. “What do you say we go for a walk, you and me?”

“For a walk?” Leini repeated, not really believing she’d heard right. “Just you and me, Mamma?”

“Yes. Would you like that?”

Leini was so happy she could only whisper. “Oh, yes.”

With a smile in her direction, Mamma stood. “I’ll get my shawl.” She took her cup and saucer to the sink, rinsed and left them to dry on the draining rack. “Eat up,” she said over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

When Mamma returned Leini was waiting, dressed in her light cardigan and sturdy shoes. Leaving the house together, they crossed the front yard. They took a path that led past fields colorful with ripening seed and hay ready to be harvested. Leini stuck her hand in Mamma’s, but after a few moments Mamma let it drop. Leini stole a glance at her.

Mamma smiled. “I know you’ve been wanting a little brother or sister, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Mamma.” Anticipation and caution warred inside.

“Well, I think the stork will bring us a baby soon.”

“A baby? A boy or girl?” Breathless now.

Mamma smiled. “I don’t know. Wait and see.” Her dark eyes sparkled.

“When? When will the stork bring the baby? Tomorrow?”

Mamma laughed. “Not so soon. The stork has to visit many little girls and boys like you who also wait. It will be a while.” She stopped on the path and fixed an errant lock with a hairpin. “Sometime this fall.”

They resumed walking. Leini ran to keep up with her.

“Aren’t you pleased?” Mamma asked after a while.

“Oh, yes, I’m very pleased.” And it was true, Leini was happy, although fall seemed a long time to wait.

They continued on their walk. Leini hopped and skipped in front of Mamma, joy jumping inside because they were together.

Mamma pointed to the meadow where a group of cows were grazing. “Come, let’s go look at the cows over there.”

Leini picked bluebells and daisies as they crossed the pasture.

“Don’t go too close,” said Mamma, grabbing the back of Leini’s cardigan.

“I like them. They won’t hurt me.”

The animals were behind a wooden fence. Mamma leaned against the slats, as Leini pressed close to her leg.

Leini had visited the cow house often, but this was the first time she saw the animals so near. One of them ambled up, close enough to touch. Leini looked and looked. The cow reached out a wet muzzle, cold and slimy against her hand. It lowered its head to stare at Leini, who gazed in fascination at its large eyes. They were so dark and shiny and beautiful. She stared at Mamma, at the cow, then back at Mamma again.

“Mamma!” she said, excited. “You have the same eyes as the cow.”

Eyes flashing with anger, Mamma slapped Leini’s face, a vicious forehand-backhand blow, her entire arm behind the smack.

Leini stood rooted to the spot, disbelief crowding out all thought. Something shattered inside. Everything had been so nice. She said what she thought, that Mamma’s eyes were as beautiful as the cow’s. Now Mamma was angry with her again. A stream of tears coursed down her cheeks as she wept without a sound.

“I’m sorry, Mamma, so sorry. Please forgive me. Don’t be angry.” She asked for forgiveness although she didn’t understand what she’d done wrong. “Mamma, please. I love you. Do you love me, too?”

“Leave me alone, girl.” Mamma shoved her away. “If you must know, no, I don’t love you.” Her voice was strangled, each word like a wheeze. “You’re a yoke I have to put up with.”

Leini didn’t understand about yoke, but for the first time in her short life she didn’t plead or promise to be good. The sadness left her—something hard took its place. Deep in her chest she was cold, and her tears stopped flowing. With straight back, head held high, her eyes met Mamma’s.

In a flash of insight Leini knew she didn’t like Mamma. Not as before.

In bed that night, thinking of the walk with Mamma, Leini didn’t want to remember the slaps Mamma had dealt her, but couldn’t help remembering them.
I only wanted to tell her she has beautiful eyes.

* * *

Loud voices and merry laughter woke Leini. Sitting in bed she cocked her head, listening. Glasses perched on her nose, she crept to the door and opened it without a sound. Grandma Britta’s soft giggle, then Grandpa’s deeper chuckle reached her—and a man’s voice, familiar, but one she couldn’t place. She tiptoed down a few stairs until, by squatting low, she could peer into the kitchen. Mamma sat on the bench, her back against the wall. Next to her sat a man….
Oh, yes, Karl!

Before she could stop herself, she sneezed. They all turned their heads to stare at her in surprise. Grandma Britta rose and took Leini in her arms, crooning to her softly. “My little dove, did our laughter wake you?”

Leini rubbed her eyes before burrowing her face in Grandma Britta’s neck.

Grandpa kissed the back of her hand, then held it in his. “Look, Karl’s here. He came to see us off at the railway station. And he gave you a coloring book.”

“That’s over a month ago. Maybe Leini doesn’t remember?” Karl voice was like a soft hum.

“I remember.” She slid off Grandma Britta’s lap. By the stove she rummaged in the big wicker basket where she kept all her treasures, found the book and held it aloft for everybody to see. “This book.” Her lips pulled to a wide grin, so pleased with herself.

Karl slid a packet in white paper across the table. “I have a special treat for you.” Coaxing, when she hesitated, “Don’t be shy. Open it.”

As she was about to take the gift, Mamma grabbed her by the wrist. “I’ve told you a million times what to say when you receive something.”

Leini’s wrist stung from Mamma’s tight grip. She glanced at Karl and muttered, “Thank you.”

With an elbow, Karl poked Mamma in the side. “That’s all right, Mira.” He smiled at Leini. “See if you like it.”

Inching onto the bench next to Grandpa, Leini tore open the paper to reveal a red box with gold letters and a red bow printed on top. After she lifted the lid, she stared at rows of brown balls and squares, each in its little case of brown paper cups. Puzzled, she leaned closer for a better look. She held the box in both hands, not daring to touch those round things.

Karl made room for her next to him. “Come sit with me.” He held one of the round balls between thumb and forefinger. “Here, taste it.”

She pressed her back against the wall, heart beating so fast she could feel it throb in her throat as she pressed chin against chest.

“Come on, girl, don’t be silly.” Mamma’s voice was stern. “Open your mouth; it’s chocolate.”

Leini took a small bite from the thing Karl held. She gulped air in surprise as the sweet taste exploded on her tongue, making her mouth very wet. It was good. Leini had never tasted anything so wonderful, so…so round and full.

Karl popped the rest of the chocolate in her mouth. “Do you like it?”

Sucking and munching, curls bouncing as she nodded.

“This is yours,” Karl said as he slid the box close to her. “Don’t eat them too fast or you’ll get a tummy ache. You’re not used to chocolates.”

She glanced at him from under her brow. “Just one more?”

“Sure, one more.”

Staring at the chocolates for a moment, she selected one that was like a heart. With eyes half-closed, leaning against Karl, she let it melt in her mouth. A sigh of contentment escaped her. She didn’t move away when Karl hugged her to him. With her ear pressed against his side she listened to the boom-boom of his heart.
He’s nice.
Before she could hide it a yawn got away.

“You’re sleepy, my dove.” Grandma Britta held a hand to her. “Come, I’ll take you to bed, tuck you in.”

Before she took Grandma Britta’s hand, Leini glanced at Karl. “Go to bed, little Leini. I’ll be here in the morning. We’ll go out together. Grandpa told me you have a bunny. Will you take me to see him?”

Too sleepy to speak, she quickly touched the backside of his hand and nodded.

During the few days Karl was there, Leini laughed and sang, her step light and heart full. He made a swing for her and sent her flying so high she screamed with excitement and delight as her stomach tickled. He drew pictures with the crayons—of Aladdin’s lamp, of Whitey and of the cows.

“Draw more,” she begged.

And he drew a picture of a man, only his face. “Can you tell who this is?”

Moving her head back the better to see, she stared at the picture for a moment. “Papi?”

He ruffled her hair. “My, oh my, but aren’t you smart. Yes, it’s a drawing of Papi.”

They played with Whitey, and Karl climbed to the loft with her to admire the kittens, which were now scampering in the hay, catching dust motes in the sunrays. Karl held her on his lap and sang to her.

“I love you, my best girl.” And he hugged her to him.

With her forehead pressed against his, she nodded. “I love you, too, Uncle Karl.”

On a windy day, the sky so low the blue billowing clouds touched the ground, he left. She stood on the front step watching through a curtain of drab rain and misty eyes as Kalevi snapped the reins against the horse’s rump. She kept her eyes trained on the receding carriage until it was lost from sight, swallowed by the dense forest.

Wordless, Grandpa took her in his arms. She pressed her face against his shoulder as she let all the loneliness and sadness explode in sobs.

Chapter 8

Veteli and Helsinki, September 1943

As she turned the knob on the radio for a music station, Leini gazed through the rain-spattered kitchen window. The low-slung, nearly leafless branches of the birch in the yard swayed and twisted in the high wind. She shivered in the warm kitchen; the short summer was over.

“What are you doing, my princess?”

Grandpa’s voice startled her. She swiveled around to face him as he crossed the floor to sit on the bench close to her.

She resumed turning the knob, getting only static. “I’m looking at the rain.”

“Here, let me try to find some music for you.” After some jarring gurgle and prattle, Grandpa happened on a station playing popular Finnish tunes. “Do you like this?”

Nodding, she leaned elbows on the counter. Content, her body bobbed to the rhythm of the polka.

“Such a bleak day.” Grandpa smiled, his kind brown eyes surrounded by tiny wrinkles. “The weather is still sunny and quite warm in Helsinki, but this far north it’s already fall.” He took Leini’s hand, pulling her to him. With her on his knee, he leaned his cheek against her head. “The news on the radio last night was wonderful; the war is over.”

The better to see Grandpa’s face, Leini leaned away from him. “Is the war really over?”

“Yes, my princess, but only the Continuation War, not the World War.”

“Conti…? Continu…War?”

“This must be confusing to you. Let’s see if I can explain it so you’ll understand.” Grandpa’s smile brought wrinkles under his eyes. “You see, Finland and Russia are fighting. We call it the Continuation War, because Finland isn’t in World War II, the big war in Europe.”

Sounds from the radio caught her attention. Pressing fingers against Grandpa’s lips to still him, she tilted her head, listening with rapt attention.

“Boum, boum, boum boouum.” After the short bass passage of music, a male announcer came on amid some static. “This is
Voice of America.
”
She listened, caught the words “war” and “Finland” and “help,” but didn’t understand everything. “What’s the man saying, Grandpa?”

“It’s a news bulletin. He says the war in Finland is over, that America will send
Care
parcels to Finland because we have so little food.”

“Oh.” Eyes lost in the driving rain outside, she thought. “That’s very good. I love America.”

Grandpa only hugged her in response.

The hand that squeezed his was a little damp as she gazed at him. “If the war is over Papi’s coming home, isn’t he?”

“Soon, Leini. I don’t know when, but it won’t be long. The great thing is we can all go home to Helsinki.”

“We can? When? Today?” She didn’t quite remember Helsinki. Now home was Veteli and Whitey and running free in the meadows.

Grandpa hugged her close. “We’ll leave as soon as we’ve packed our things. In a few days, I think.”

* * *

Everywhere Leini noticed cartons and suitcases. She watched as Grandpa and Grandma Britta rushed here and there, carrying things to stuff into the already full bags. Mamma moved slowly, her tummy so big Leini thought it would burst.