“Have you figured out what I’m
supposed to be doing here?”
“Is
that you, Cinda?”
It
sure is good to hear Lexi’s familiar voice again, even if it is just in my
head.
“Who
else would it be?” I sigh.
A
slight chuckle comes into my mind, not exactly from the person lying next to
me. I can see Elka is sound asleep, and looking
down my body where I lie beside her on the narrow bed, I see Elena is too.
“It
seems like my insisting on staying here on the island came from Elena herself,
not me,” I say to Lexi in my head.
“I’m
not sure. All I know is we’re here for a
reason.”
“But
what am I supposed to do?”
“Just
be here in your ancestor’s mind. The
thing that’s supposed to happen will flow out naturally.”
“Are
you sure, Lexi? How can we ever
know? I mean, what if Elena would have
done this anyway?”
“Think
about it, Cinda. Do you think a
thirteen-year-old girl in the early Nineteenth Century would challenge her
father the way Elena did today?”
“I
don’t know. Maybe not. But Elka argued with him, too. Was that your doing, Lexi?”
“Perhaps. These differences they have in religion run
much deeper now than in our times.
Anyway, the sisters are here with their estranged grandparents. Something new must come from this.”
“I
guess so.” I gently roll onto my
side. “I just wish this bed was more
comfortable.”
Her
chuckle echoes in my head as I doze off.
***
As the weeks of autumn passed, Elka
and I helped Nanna search the low hills of the island for the wild berries she
needed to make jam. We also peeled and
chopped vegetables from the garden located behind the cottage. Most of these went into a large crock filled
with sour vinegary wine. The smell was
familiar from our own mother’s kitchen.
“It’s so good to have help with the
sauerkraut,” Nanna said almost every day.
“I guess I’m not as young as I used to be. Every year the work seems harder.”
“How old are you?” I asked one day.
Elka gave me a sharp stare, and I
realized this probably wasn’t a polite question.
But Nanna just grinned. “Well, let me see. I was eighteen when your father was born in
1811. Hans and I had been married two
years then. Yes, I was born in 1793, so
that makes me 54 now.” She reached up
and pushed a stray curl of graying hair back into her kerchief. “Getting older every day, my dears.”
I found myself wanting to say 54
wasn’t very old, but felt I’d said too much already. And I knew the hard work of farming and
fishing took its toll here, whether one lived on the mainland or the islands.
With a start, I realized I didn’t know anyone over the age of 60.
“Nanna, I hope you’ll live forever,” I
heard my sister say.
“We all will--in a better place,”
Nanna smiled. “An afterlife with no pain
and no tears.”
“Are you sure?” Elka asked.
“The Word has promised it, Liebchen. I believe it and that settles it.”
“But what about our different beliefs
about baptism?”
“Don’t let these men’s arguments
distress you, girls. All that matters is
we trust in our dear Savior.”
“I do trust in his salvation bought
for us,” I murmured.
Nanna patted me on the shoulder. “Das
ist gut.”
Elka smiled at me across the top of
the table where we were chopping vegetables.
***
A day or two later, I was again
hunting for berries along the sandy hills overlooking the eastern shore. The wind was picking up and getting colder by
the moment. Elka had already given up
and headed back for the cottage, but I felt sure I could find just a pint more. It was all we needed to complete the last
batch of jam.
Just as I spotted some of the purplish
fruit nearby, my foot slipped into an unseen hole. A horrible snapping sound rose from my ankle
as I crumpled to the ground.
‘You should’ve known better than to be
out here alone,’ a voice in my head scolded.
There was no point in trying to
answer, even though I wondered where this unfamiliar voice came from. Instead, I tried to rise to my feet. The injured ankle couldn’t bear any weight,
and I lost my balance in the sand. As I crashed
to the ground again, I began crying for help.
‘There’s no one here to help,’ said
that strange voice again.
Finally I managed to get up to my
knees, and using the shrubs around me, I crawled higher up the sand dune. There was nothing in sight but empty
fields. The grain harvest was finished
and the livestock had been moved to the sheltered pens for the winter. If only Grandpapa were here.
Then I thought I saw a flash of blue color
in the distance, down near the shore.
Again I called, this time as loud as I could, “Help!”
The blue dot of color became a shirt,
and the arms inside it were waving. Then
the sea winds carried a voice my way, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve hurt myself,” I called through
cupped hands. “I can’t walk.”
“What?” The figure couldn’t hear my words because the
wind was blowing the wrong way. So, I
waved my arms and called for help again.
By now my injured ankle was throbbing.
I felt a rush of relief as the figure began to run along the beach in my
direction.
By the time he started up the dune
toward me, I could see it was a young man near my age. “I’m so clumsy,” I sighed when he was close
enough to hear. “I fell and hurt my
ankle.”
He quickly climbed up and took me by
the hand. “Can you put any weight on
it?”
“No.
It hurts too much.”
“Here, lean on me.” He moved to my side and put a strong arm
around my waist. “Why were you up here
alone?”
“I know it was stupid of me. My sister and I were gathering berries for
our Nanna. She got cold, but I wanted to
find just a few more so we could have a full batch.”
He began to move down the hillside,
helping me hop on my good leg. “I’ve
never seen you around here before. Who
is your grandmother?”
“Helena Hansen, wife of Anders.”
“Oh.”
He seemed to be wondering what to say next.
“I know,” I added at his silence, “The
family that split. My father is named
Hans Hansen. My sister and I only met
our grandparents a couple of weeks ago.”
We’d reached the beach by this time,
so the going was easier. He didn’t speak
for a few minutes but just continued to help me across the sand. He seemed to know exactly where my
grandparents’ cottage was.
“So you’re from this island?”
“Born here on Fohr,” he grinned. “By the way, my name is George.”
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,
George. I’m Elena Hansen.”
“I’m pleased to be of assistance, Miss
Hansen. I guess I should give my full
name too. George Edward Heinrichsen, at
your service.”
By this time we were in sight of the
cottage, but for some reason he slowed as we came to the gate of the winter
pen. Before I could ask why, my sister
was running toward us. “Elena, what have
you done?”
“You know how clumsy I am,” I sighed.
George stopped and waited until Elka
arrived on the other side of the gate.
“This is George Heinrichsen, Elka.”
“Thank you for helping her,” she
nodded.
“My pleasure. Can you support her from here?”
I looked up at him, wondering why he
seemed reluctant to go through the gate.
But he smiled at me as he said, “I have to get back to work helping my
father with the fishing nets. May I call
for you later?”
I knew I was blushing and looked down
at the clods around my feet before I whispered, “Yes, of course.”
Then Elka said, “Here, let me help.” She stepped into his place and I shifted my
weight onto her shoulders.
“Thank you again, George,” I managed
to say through the pain flaring in my ankle as I moved it.
He didn’t speak again but did take off
his hat and made a small bow.
“What a nice young man, Elena.”
“Yes.
I’d still be stuck in the dunes without him.”
“You were fortunate. I hope you’ve learned your lesson about going
out there alone.”
“Yes Mother,” I half-mocked.
We giggled softly as we slowly and
painfully made our way to the cottage.
“He seems to like you,” said Elka.
“He was just being polite. No one else was out there to help.”
“Oh, I think we haven’t seen the last
of George Heinrichsen.”
I didn’t reply, but I was hoping to
see George again, too.
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