The Last Boat Home Read Online Free PDF

used to bring her along to her luncheons, when the women would smoke American cigarettes in Karin Reiersen’s parlour and Elseand Lars would collect conkers behind the house. On afternoons when it rained, or when the snow was so wet that it seeped through the down of their winter suits, they would hole up together in the basement playroom that always smelled as if it had just been scrubbed with soft soap. She and Lars would dig in the toy chest for tracks for his train set or play Yahtzee or Ludo until they were bored and restless. Then they would sneak upstairs to admire the ‘treasure’ on display in glass cabinets: crystal figurines, silver platters and bowls.
    The organist keyed a fresh chord and the congregation heaved themselves to their feet. Else flipped through her psalm book, only finding her place when the hymn’s first verse had come to an end. During the second, Pastor Seip stepped down from the altar and climbed the stairs to the pulpit, his vestments sweeping the floor as he went. He studied the parishioners from this height until they were silent, his eyes watery worlds on the brink of brimming over.
    He cleared his throat. ‘Picture yourself dead,’ he said, ‘while the family who mourns you knows that you are damned to hell. Picture your husband or wife, your children, your parents, each weeping by your coffin for your forsaken soul. Some of you know that the path you have chosen is bound to lead you here at the end of your days. Others will look to your neighbours and deem yourselves absolved. But we are all of us sinners.
    ‘“For all have sinned,”’ said Pastor Seip, ‘“and come short of the glory of God”. Think on Paul’s words in his Epistle to the Romans. Temptation takes many forms. Consider the unbeliever who rejects Christ, who turns away from the path of the righteous and instead embraces debauchery. It is easy, is it not, to name a man’s transgressions against God when he flaunts them for all to see. But what of the man who indulges in a glass of brandy after a good meal? What of the women who draw their curtains before a game of cards on a Sunday evening? Are they not also sinners?Do their sins count for less because they keep them hidden from their neighbours and friends?’
    Else nibbled her gums and thought again of the caretaker’s shed. She remembered Lars’s lips against hers, his fingers on the small of her back. Behind the bus depot. Behind the oak at the public dock. She tried to empty her head and focus on Ivar Blåsmo’s bald spot in front of her. Her mother shifted on the pew.
    ‘The Lord bears witness to all,’ said Pastor Seip, ‘He sees into our hearts and knows our intentions. In today’s Gospel reading Jesus begins the Sermon on the Mount, telling His disciples to be meek, to be pure, to hunger and thirst after righteousness. His instructions for entering into Paradise are clear, as is His warning to those who fail to heed them. “For I say unto you, that except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Who here can claim to be on the path of the righteous? And who amongst us has chosen a path to hell? There are many paths to hell, but only one way for the righteous. And there is no place for the sinner among the saved.’
    A shiver darted up Else’s spine. As guilty as she was, she let her gaze stray across the aisle to the Reiersen family’s pew. Lars was watching her. He poked out his tongue. The skin at the nape of her neck prickled.
    ‘The path of the just is as the shining light. The way of the wicked is as darkness,’ said Pastor Seip. ‘Search your conscience and ask yourself truly, which path am I on?’
    This time when Else looked for Lars, his grin poked dimples into his cheeks. She dug her nails into her palm, but could not help herself from returning his smile. Lars winked and a giggle tickled her throat, until a pain in her leg put an end to