pay a good price.” He glanced at Leini, who stood hugging one of his legs.
“If that isn’t Karl Ziegler come to see us off!” Grandma Britta stood on top of the stairs in the sooty gray doorframe of the wagon. “I’m so glad we got to say good-bye. God only knows when we’ll be together again. At least you’re not in the trenches, like our Robert.”
Karl rushed up the steps to enfold her in his arms. “God bless, Grandma Britta.” He half turned to nod at Leini. “Look after her for me, will you?”
“You know I will. Be safe. Come see us when you can.”
The engine sounded sharp whistles.
Karl pressed his cheek against Grandma Britta’s and stepped onto the platform.
Grandpa patted him on the shoulder. “Time for us to go.” His face was serious, eyes shiny. “Take care, you hear.”
“Be safe, all of you.” From the pocket of his pants Karl pulled a big white handkerchief to wipe his face as if it was wet. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can. I’ll miss you all. Have a safe trip.” With an arm around Mira’s waist he helped her mount the steps. “See you soon.”
In Grandpa’s arms, Leini boarded. Another sharp whistle. With a jolt the train started rolling out of the station. Karl walked along, waving his white handkerchief. He mouthed words, but the wind carried them away, so she didn’t hear what he said. He became a little dot. The train rounded a curve, and she could no longer see him.
Chapter 4
Helsinki, May 1943
The long train settled into a monotonous, slow rhythm.
“Grandpa, why isn’t Karl in the war like my papi?”
“Not everybody can fight on the front, my princess. Karl has an illness that makes him bleed too fast if he’s injured. He serves the country by doing office work at the military hospital in Helsinki.”
Leini nodded, not sure she understood. But she liked it that Karl helped Finland.
Before the trip, Grandpa made sure they had a compartment all to themselves, Mamma told Leini. She kneeled on her seat next to Mamma, forehead pressed to the window for as long as she could see a glimpse of the station, the last familiar landmark. Long after it disappeared from view, Leini kept her eyes on the scenery. The train rolled past farms with red houses, the corners and window frames painted white. Cows grazed in the meadows, although there wasn’t much grass yet. The trees wore the sheerest dusting of green. She tugged at Grandma Britta’s sleeve, pointing at the landscape rushing by.
“What is it, my pet?”
Leini kept pointing. “The trees are baby green.”
Grandma Britta leaned forward to glance through the window. “You’re right. It’s the promise of summer.” She planted a kiss on Leini’s head.
Hugging her doll, Leini whispered reassuring words to cheer Maia. “You’ll see, Maia, Veteli is nice. We’ll be in the countryside with lots of flowers and fresh bread, Mamma says so.” She sighed as she creased her brow in worry. “Maybe Grandpa and Grandma Britta will do something so Papi finds me.”
Leini held Maia pressed to her breast and moved one of the doll’s braids back and forth under her nose. The tickling touch was comforting. It made her sleepy. She hummed a monotonous tune. Often she heard songs in her head, like the lullaby she liked so much, the one Papi used to sing to her. When he was home, he sat on the side of her bed and sang about a rainbow, his warm voice lulling her to sleep. He kept the radio on all day long, and music filled the home. Leini sang along with the tunes. Mamma said it got on her nerves and often she switched off the radio. After a while, Papi turned it on again.
They also had a record player, which Papi wound up. He put on a record, and the music came out a little scratchy through the tall horn. Leini was sad that nobody sang to her now; she missed the music. Mamma never sang; she never even hummed.
“When I was a boy,” Papi told Leini, “we didn’t have a record player, but my mom, that’s your
“If that isn’t Karl Ziegler come to see us off!” Grandma Britta stood on top of the stairs in the sooty gray doorframe of the wagon. “I’m so glad we got to say good-bye. God only knows when we’ll be together again. At least you’re not in the trenches, like our Robert.”
Karl rushed up the steps to enfold her in his arms. “God bless, Grandma Britta.” He half turned to nod at Leini. “Look after her for me, will you?”
“You know I will. Be safe. Come see us when you can.”
The engine sounded sharp whistles.
Karl pressed his cheek against Grandma Britta’s and stepped onto the platform.
Grandpa patted him on the shoulder. “Time for us to go.” His face was serious, eyes shiny. “Take care, you hear.”
“Be safe, all of you.” From the pocket of his pants Karl pulled a big white handkerchief to wipe his face as if it was wet. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can. I’ll miss you all. Have a safe trip.” With an arm around Mira’s waist he helped her mount the steps. “See you soon.”
In Grandpa’s arms, Leini boarded. Another sharp whistle. With a jolt the train started rolling out of the station. Karl walked along, waving his white handkerchief. He mouthed words, but the wind carried them away, so she didn’t hear what he said. He became a little dot. The train rounded a curve, and she could no longer see him.
Chapter 4
Helsinki, May 1943
The long train settled into a monotonous, slow rhythm.
“Grandpa, why isn’t Karl in the war like my papi?”
“Not everybody can fight on the front, my princess. Karl has an illness that makes him bleed too fast if he’s injured. He serves the country by doing office work at the military hospital in Helsinki.”
Leini nodded, not sure she understood. But she liked it that Karl helped Finland.
Before the trip, Grandpa made sure they had a compartment all to themselves, Mamma told Leini. She kneeled on her seat next to Mamma, forehead pressed to the window for as long as she could see a glimpse of the station, the last familiar landmark. Long after it disappeared from view, Leini kept her eyes on the scenery. The train rolled past farms with red houses, the corners and window frames painted white. Cows grazed in the meadows, although there wasn’t much grass yet. The trees wore the sheerest dusting of green. She tugged at Grandma Britta’s sleeve, pointing at the landscape rushing by.
“What is it, my pet?”
Leini kept pointing. “The trees are baby green.”
Grandma Britta leaned forward to glance through the window. “You’re right. It’s the promise of summer.” She planted a kiss on Leini’s head.
Hugging her doll, Leini whispered reassuring words to cheer Maia. “You’ll see, Maia, Veteli is nice. We’ll be in the countryside with lots of flowers and fresh bread, Mamma says so.” She sighed as she creased her brow in worry. “Maybe Grandpa and Grandma Britta will do something so Papi finds me.”
Leini held Maia pressed to her breast and moved one of the doll’s braids back and forth under her nose. The tickling touch was comforting. It made her sleepy. She hummed a monotonous tune. Often she heard songs in her head, like the lullaby she liked so much, the one Papi used to sing to her. When he was home, he sat on the side of her bed and sang about a rainbow, his warm voice lulling her to sleep. He kept the radio on all day long, and music filled the home. Leini sang along with the tunes. Mamma said it got on her nerves and often she switched off the radio. After a while, Papi turned it on again.
They also had a record player, which Papi wound up. He put on a record, and the music came out a little scratchy through the tall horn. Leini was sad that nobody sang to her now; she missed the music. Mamma never sang; she never even hummed.
“When I was a boy,” Papi told Leini, “we didn’t have a record player, but my mom, that’s your
Similar Books
Learning
Karen Kingsbury
The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes
Kieran Lyne
Birthdays Can Be Deadly
Cindy Bell
Old Men at Midnight
Chaim Potok
Craving Flight
Tamsen Parker
Tempo Change
Barbara Hall
This Old Souse
Mary Daheim
Rain Music
Di Morrissey
Waking Kiss
Annabel Joseph