Louise couldn’t stop shaking her head. It seemed as if the three years since she and Arnie had first approached Turku, pushing slowly through thin ice, had flashed by as if in a dream. Now, she was standing alone on the deck of a similar ferry, watching the picture-book houses and buildings of Stockholm slipping by so close it felt like the ferry were on a lake rather than the sea. She watched the ferry’s wake gently slapping the shore on both sides behind them. Being inside one of the many passages between the islands that formed the city felt safe.
In three more years, Arnie would have his twenty in and they’d retire. It had been made clear that there would be no chance of getting a star. He was coming to terms with it. His father also wanted to retire and had asked Arnie to run the logging company. Arnie said he would. They’d be back in the Pacific Northwest.
The massive and deep blast of the ferry’s horn made her jump out of her reverie. She hurried down to the exit passageway where they’d debark and go through Swedish customs.
At the customs building, Arnie handed a happy-looking young man their passports and waited. The man peered at them, then looked around, trying to see over his desk. “And how many in the family, sir?”
Smiling proudly at his family, Arnie answered, “Four.”
Louise felt Alina’s hair, already showing yellow amid the nearly white blonde. She was a big girl and refused to wear a hat. With her other hand, she felt the wool of Grisha’s stocking cap that she had knit for him. She pulled the children in close to her and looked back toward Finland. She felt the start of a sob and pulled the children in tighter to stop it, remembering their mother, her eyes blinking back tears.
Then, she turned and followed Arnie Koski into Sweden. In two weeks, they’d be in Oklahoma for Christmas.