The legation was closed for New Year’s Day, so Louise and Arnie slept in until sunrise, around nine thirty. Arnie was badly hungover, but Louise managed to get several glasses of water and some aspirin into him. It was too late for the hotel breakfast, so she talked him into walking down by the waterfront to see if they could find some coffee.
Louise immediately felt the cold wind, as she’d felt it every day since they’d arrived. The temperature wasn’t much different than at home, around freezing all the time, but the darkness … In Oklahoma, skies were clear over half the time even in the dead of winter, and the sun rose when it was supposed to instead of nearly midmorning.
Four- or five-storied old brick buildings, ranging from traditional red to lighter shades of ochre and cream, fronted on a wide street and wharf area that gave the impression of a large open plaza. A huge domed church rose from behind the front buildings, dominating the scene. The whole setting was one of austere utility, the antithesis of what Louise imagined a Mediterranean waterfront would look like.
Everything was closed, so they couldn’t even find a cup of tea. Walking in the cold air, however, looking at the small freighters and different varieties of fishing boats, Arnie soon revived.
They wandered close to Kaarina’s neighborhood and Louise said, “Why don’t we wish Kaarina and Pietari a happy new year?”
When they got to Kaarina’s house, however, no one was home.
“She’s probably at the orphanage,” Arnie said.
“Oh, Arnie, let’s go visit her. She’s family and we should show an interest.”
His nonverbal response wasn’t enthusiastic.
“She told me the address,” Louise said. “She walks there, so it can’t be far.”
Arnie grunted.
“She seemed very keen to have us visit.”
Arnie sighed. He nodded his head sideways as in “you lead the way.”
After only a couple of false turns in some narrow backstreets, they came upon what looked like an abandoned estate with an old mansion set behind a wrought iron fence on good-sized grounds. Coming from behind the building, out of their sight, was the sound of children—lots of children. It reminded Louise of the noise of her grade school playground in Edmond. It also reminded her how quiet—how empty—their home felt when Arnie was away. She linked arms with Arnie as they walked around the fenced grounds to the back side, as if his solidity could somehow fill the void.
There must have been a hundred children, most of them under ten, tearing around some hastily built wooden playground equipment. Several of the children were sitting next to the wall of the building, rocking themselves, staring at nothing, some hugging themselves, some with their thumbs in their mouths. This was no grade school playground.
Two little girls sat cross-legged across from each other. One, her face horribly disfigured from burns, was holding a primitive rag doll. The other girl had one hand on her knee, as if comforting or reassuring her.
“Oh, Arnie,” Louise gasped. Both girls had been blinded. She involuntarily put her hands to her mouth.
“War,” Arnie said quietly.
They silently watched the children for a few minutes. Then they saw Kaarina approaching them from inside the fence. She was wearing a gray wool skirt and a beige cardigan sweater draped over another sweater of coarser green wool. She had a wool scarf tied over her hair, which was set in a bun.
A child ran up to her. Kaarina knelt, said something, and pointed to one of the play structures. She gently shooed the child along and started back toward Arnie and Louise.
“Päivää,” she said, not formal, like hyvää päivää, which meant “good day,” but more formal than hei, which was like saying hi in English. Kaarina was always dignified.
Two boys, both around eight, suddenly started screaming at each other. There was a flurry of swift punches, thrown wildly and harmlessly because of their age. Kaarina started running for the fight. One boy ran, leaving the other with a look of smug triumph. The boy who ran, however, had run to an empty flower bed where a large wooden stake was set in the ground. He jerked it loose and came screaming at the other boy, flailing at him, striking a severe blow across the boy’s eyes. The boy shielded his face and head and the boy with the stake went in for the kill. He was stopped by Kaarina, who took several blows herself before she wrestled the stake from the furious boy. She then got him under control by grabbing his shoulders. She said something sharply to the boy in Finnish and slapped him. The boy screamed something at her and ran off.
Louise was stunned by the violence.
“War,” Arnie said again.
Watching the small child running away from them, Louise noticed how narrow his shoulders were, how thin his arms. She suddenly wanted to hold him. She looked at Arnie. “Oh, Arnie,” she said. “It’s all so heartbreaking. And brutal.”
Kaarina, too, was watching the boy run away. She turned to look at Arnie and Louise, her face sad. “Welcome to my world,” she said. Then, almost apologetically she added, “He’ll have to be punished.”
“Punish him? Why?” The look from Arnie immediately signaled to Louise that she’d spoken out of turn.
Kaarina’s face was impassive, but her eyes drilled into Louise. “For striking the other boy with the stick.”
“But they were both fighting …” Louise trailed off, feeling Arnie softly grip her elbow. “I mean, maybe both—”
“It’s for his own good.”
It was quite clear that Kaarina would tolerate no one interfering in how she ran the orphanage.
“Of course,” Louise said. Realizing now was not the time to talk about child-rearing, Louise asked, “Are you by yourself?”
Kaarina softened, apparently also wanting to get out of the conflict. “No.” Kaarina smiled. “Sometimes, like today, it feels like it, but no. There are five of us, one at home for a full day off, four here four days in a row, one inside, one outside. That’s me today. We do twelve-hour shifts and rotate nights.”
“Criminy.”
“What is that word?” Kaarina asked pleasantly.
“Uh. It means … uh—”
“It’s slang,” Arnie broke in. “A polite way of saying ‘Jesus Christ.’”
Kaarina laughed. “Here, we evoke the name of the devil, Satan,” she said. “Perhaps a fundamental difference between our countries? The optimists and the pessimists?”
“Perhaps,” Arnie said. “But pessimists don’t leave everything behind and sail off to an unknown new world.”
Kaarina smiled. “True, but maybe if you’re pessimistic enough, you sail off because the future holds nothing for you at home.”
Arnie simply nodded at this.
Then Kaarina asked, “Would you like to see the orphanage?”
Louise looked up at Arnie. Arnie smiled his agreement.
“Yes,” Louise said. “Yes, we would like that.”
Kaarina introduced them to her fellow staffer, then took them to a dormitory room stuffed with small beds, all just far enough apart for an adult to squeeze by. One little girl was under one of the beds, her thumb in her mouth. Another was sitting upright, holding her stomach, rocking back and forth. She made no response to Louise’s attempt to talk to her. One girl, around five or six, was on a low makeshift gurney of wood and what looked like old tricycle wheels, being noisily pushed down the hallway by two other girls. All three stopped and stared at Louise. At a word from Kaarina, most likely about not staring, they ran down the hallway, giggling. The one on the gurney didn’t have any legs.
Kaarina asked them into her office for tea after the tour. Louise’s hand shook as she put the cup to her lips. She quickly put it on her lap, helping steady it. She looked at Arnie, steadier, but somber.
“You do all this with just five of you?” Louise asked, finally able to get the cup back up to her mouth.
“Well, depends on whether one calls what is happening here doing. We feel overwhelmed.” She paused. “You see, there just isn’t enough money for more staff.”
“But, surely,” Louise said, “there must be government funds, charities. I mean—”
Arnie had gently put his hand on her thigh.
“It’s OK, Arnie,” Kaarina said. She turned to Louise. “It’s in large part because of the reparation payments to the Soviets.”
“I’d forgotten,” Louise said quietly.
“The economy is just starting again. That means less taxes for things like orphanages and even less charity money. Things are so tight, it’s even hard to get volunteers.” She sighed and her shoulders sagged briefly. “Still, they’re all fed and sleep warm.”
“Yes. Thank the Lord,” Louise said.
Kaarina gave her and then Arnie a look, saying nothing. Louise could see that Kaarina didn’t attribute the food and beds to God.
Without thinking, Louise asked, “How can we help?”
Kaarina thought a moment. “Unfortunately, you’re not rich?” she said with a slight smile.
Louise and Arnie both smiled, ruefully acknowledging this.
Almost absently and to no one in particular she said, “We do need money.” She turned to Louise. “We also need bodies. Perhaps, after you’ve gotten settled of course, you might come by and take some of the children during the day. Until your Finnish improves …” She trailed off. It was clear she was trying to come up with something. “Maybe bring needles and thread, some bright cloth, and help the girls sew something?”
Louise grimaced. “I don’t sew so well.”
“Oh.” It was said with a bit of surprise.
“I mean by hand,” Louise said quickly. “If there were a sewing machine, maybe.”
“Just come and spend time,” Kaarina said, nodding and smiling. “You’ll figure something. They really aren’t demanding.”
“What about finding families in America?” Louise asked. “I could help with that. I used to volunteer at an orphanage run by our church. It was where I first got really interested in early childhood education.”
“You’re a teacher?” Kaarina asked.
“Well, not anymore. It’s being in the army.” She shrugged, a little apologetically. “I do miss it.”
“Of course. Working with children.” Kaarina seemed to search for something to say. “What was the name of your orphanage?”
“It’s called the Wichita Orphan Home and Manual Labor School.”
“Manual Labor School?”
Louise suddenly felt defensive. She’d never really thought about the name of the church’s orphanage. “The children need to become independent.”
“But why manual labor?”
“It’s an Indian school,” Arnie broke in. “They don’t like going to school, so it’s really their best shot.”
“But surely, there are schools for diesel mechanics, secretaries—”
“The children were mostly very young,” Louise said quickly. “Those schools could come when they get older.”
“Mmhh,” Kaarina said. There was an awkward silence. “Well, no matter.” Kaarina smiled. “The simple truth is that we can always use another pair of hands.”
Louise nodded. “I’ll come by. Whenever I can.”
“Wonderful. Whenever you want.” Kaarina seemed to hesitate. Then she said, “Would there be any chance of some coffee from the legation?”
Arnie and Louise were quiet all the way back to the hotel. Once in their room, Louise could hold on no longer. Arnie held her until she stopped sobbing.
“Arnie,” she said, speaking into his chest. “We have to do something.”
“Sure. But what? It’s like this all over Europe.”
“Yes, but we’re here!” She pushed back away from him. Her own intensity surprised her.
Arnie could only blink.
“Oh, Arnie. Can’t you get money from State? They’re throwing money at Germany.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. They were the ones who made the orphans.”
“You know it was the Russians.”
“Yes, I know it was the Russians. Same thing. Bad actors. Why are we helping the Germans and not the Finns, who didn’t do anything to us?”
“We are helping the Finns. We’re allowing dollar loans. We’re the big brother the little brother can call on if the fight gets too tough. You think Stalin settled for an unoccupied Finland because he was nice?”
“Phwfft. He settled because he didn’t want another bloody nose.”
Arnie was stopped for a moment. “OK, you’re right.”
“My favorite words.”
“But right now, he’s being careful because of us.” Arnie paused. “All that is big-picture international relations. I’ve got a big enough job, right here, now. I need you.”
“To go to parties,” she said a little sullenly.
“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s what diplomats do. It’s called building relationships. Real work gets done at parties and real information gets passed.”
“I know.” Louise sighed. “It’s just so … so indirect.”
Arnie pulled her back in to him. “Honestly, Louise. I know how much you loved working with children. Just remember we’re here to do a job. As long as you still have time to do the job, I’m fine with you getting involved in Kaarina’s orphanage. But don’t disappear on me. You know how bad I am at parties.”
“Don’t I,” she said. “That afternoon your friend brought you with him from Fort Sill, I think you said three words.”
“That’s because you said three thousand.”
“Not true.” She paused. “Well, maybe.” She had started circling one of his buttons with her forefinger. “But you were so exciting.”
Arnie laughed. He knew full well her first impression of him. “I know, like watching paint dry.”
“Oh, so much more. Like watching mud puddles dry.”
He laughed again. “It’s not just parties,” he said. “Remember, I need you to grease the social skids, make friends with the wives in the community. It’s important, and it’s something I can’t do, for obvious reasons.”
“You would look pretty silly asking Natalya Bobrova to tea,” Louise said. “OK. I get it.” She sighed. “It’s just that I want to do something. Something more. More direct.” She sighed and then said very softly, “Maybe if we had children, I’d feel differently.” She looked up at Arnie. “Maybe help the children. Be around the children.”
Arnie gently hugged her, stroking her hair.
Louise brought up the orphanage again during dinner in the hotel basement.
“Louise, truly, I’d like to help them, but I just don’t think the army or the State Department want their military attaché in the orphan business.”
“Get honest. You don’t want me in the orphan business.”
“OK. You’re right.”
“Didn’t feel so good when you said it this time.”
Arnie chuckled. “You’re right. You’re right. You’re right.”
She had to smile. “OK. Of course, you want me home. I want to be home. But not if I’m just sitting around planning cocktail parties.” She opened her hands to him above her plate. “We don’t have any kids now. I can do parties with my eyes shut. Those orphans of Kaarina’s need … They need mothers.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I guess I need to be one.”
“Oh, Louise.” Arnie took her hands in his and pulled them toward him. Reaching across his plate he kissed them. “I didn’t know what it meant for you. Do it. Just don’t leave me high and dry.”
They looked at each other across the table. Then Louise said, smiling and pulling her hands back, “I’ll be at every party.”
They were silent for a while, then, shifting the mood, Arnie asked, “But what will you do for them? We’re not rich. You don’t speak Finnish.”
“And I can’t sew,” she chimed in, making Arnie chuckle.
“They need money,” she said seriously. “They need someone who is good at raising it. I spent a lot of my time as chapter president chasing rich alumni. And I was pretty darned good at it.”
“I’ll bet you were.” It was a genuine compliment and it felt good to be seen. “But how will you go about it?”
“Aren’t there State Department funds for war relief?” Louise asked.
“I don’t think so. Technically, we’re still at war with Finland until the treaty gets signed.”
“God, Arnie. How long is that going to take? The war was over nearly two years ago. Fat-assed diplomats in Paris waiting for just the right word on some piece of paper while Kaarina and those children”—she straightened back in her chair—“they need money. I can get money.”
“Like I just asked you, how?”
“I don’t know. Yet.” She was silent a moment. “I’ll call Max Hamilton and ask him. He told me once to let him know if I needed anything. I’ll see if he meant it! Do you think he’ll see me?”
“Sure, he will. He’s in love with you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But,” Arnie went on, “he won’t give you any money.”
She knew she had Arnie’s blessing. She also knew she was on her own.