Matti arrived at midmorning on the Fourth. Operating once again as 200-Foot Logging, he was running a show south of Svensen on the upper reaches of the Klaskanine River, doing difficult logging for Western Cooperage. Cooperage could not punch a rail line into the stand cost-effectively, so the company put the logging up for a bid, assuming some fool might take it on. If the fool went bust trying, Cooperage would still own the trees and they’d still be there for the next fool. Matti won the bid at a price Cooperage management thought foolishly low. Matti knew where there were hundreds of trucks left mothballed by the Spruce Division, trucks he bought for close to nothing and used instead of punching in a rail line. In the dry summer months, it took only a bulldozer and some rock to build a road that would last long enough to haul the logs out on trucks. Matti was making a killing.
Kyllikki and Alma marshaled their children to help them make the Fourth of July picnic, which would include chicken fried in fat drippings collected in a coffee can over the past month and a new gelatin dessert Higgins brought in called Jell-O.
Aino was grateful for the chance to stop feeling helpless and took over the making of the potato salad. She looked up to see Eleanor looking at her from the doorway. She smiled at her, but Eleanor looked away. Eleanor followed the other children without looking back.
Alma saw the stricken look on Aino’s face and said, “Give her time.”
Aino knew the advice was sound, but it was hard to follow. She felt the need to make up so much time. Eleanor’s childhood was already almost a third gone. She wanted to run outside and hug Eleanor, but it was like stalking a very shy bird—one clumsy move and the bird would fly away.
As Aino took up the potato salad preparations, she had to ask where everything was.
The food was loaded into several large baskets Mielikki had woven into artistic and intricate designs, all learned from Vasutäti. They piled the food into Ilmari’s wagon and set off for Tapiola, the girls larking around it in freshly pressed dresses, Jorma and his uncle Matti walking behind. Matti was showing Jorma how a spring worked. Toivo, fresh from a face scrubbing by Kyllikki, ran to catch his brother, Aarni, and his cousin Jorma.
The children all walked like their mothers and fathers, shoulders relaxed; head, neck, and spine aligned; their young muscles lean and toned from constant hard work; their posture proud from constant reminders. The girls were like aspens and alders to their brothers’ young firs and oaks.
Aino trailed behind them with Kyllikki, feeling an immense pride in all of them, and a little left out—or maybe it was left behind.
They spread blankets in the large field behind Higgins’s store. Higgins had personally scythed and raked the field with three friends to get it ready for the Fourth. The blankets evened out the tufts and soft July stubble, the grass cut young and green before it went to hay. The band from the Deep River Legion Post 112, which combined Knappton, Tapiola, and the logging camps all around, warmed up. The musicians marched and practiced every Sunday afternoon, rain or shine, mostly the former.
A large touring car, its canvas top pulled back, spattered with new mud up to the running boards, came bouncing over the unpaved wagon road from the direction of Skomakawa. Aino felt her breath stop just for an instant when she recognized Aksel at the wheel and the Bachelor Boys on the dark, nearly black leather seats. The car bounced over the field, roared up to them, and stopped. Aksel grinned from beneath a workingman’s leather hat that showed just a bit of his blond hair, trimmed short above his ears, the brim mostly hidden by the flat overlapping crown. She saw Jens, Yrjö, Heppu, and Kullervo climb from the car, looking around as if now that they’d arrived the festivities could begin.
Aksel was walking toward them. His brilliant-blue eyes seemed to laugh with the obvious joy of seeing Aino and the family. She felt a sudden lightness, as if he were about to ask her to dance.
He’d filled out and filled out well, she thought, from the too-lean and restless man who’d carried her away from Centralia. He looked like a man who’d gotten used to being in charge. He and the others still carried the aura of danger. She was sure they were bootlegging. That car looked expensive.
Eleanor screamed with delight, “Akseli-setä,” Uncle Aksel, and ran straight for him. He caught her with ready hands and threw her squealing high above his head. Aino saw that it was a well-practiced move, which made her both happy and jealous.
She turned to Kyllikki and Alma, who were drinking coffee from one of those new thermos bottles Ilmari bought in Portland. All the married loggers were getting them for Christmas and birthdays.
“Aksel come around fairly often then?” Aino asked.
Alma nodded. Aksel now had Eleanor by the arms and was swinging her around, her legs and skirt horizontal to the ground. Pilvi ran up, jumping up and down for her turn.
“Jouka?” Aino asked.
“Not so often,” Alma said. She looked quickly at Kyllikki, who nodded go ahead. “It’s … the drinking.”
“He loves Eleanor. He really does,” Kyllikki broke in. “But … there’s been some trouble.”
“Several times in jail,” Alma said. “Caught with booze on the street.” She sighed sadly. “He was a good logger.”
“And dancer,” Kyllikki added.
Aino wondered if they blamed her. Jouka had been drinking long before she even met him, but she said nothing.
“What in the world is Aksel doing to get such a fancy car?” Aino asked. Matti had joined them and was squatting, reaching for a piece of chocolate cake.
“That’s an Oldsmobile with a 233-cubic-inch V-8 engine. It’ll outrun any cop car on a paved road. It costs more than a logger’s annual salary. What do you think he’s doing?”
Aino didn’t answer.
“War changed him,” Matti said.
Aksel put Pilvi down and came walking up to them. What hadn’t changed were his radiant blue eyes.
“Päivää,” he said. He shook Matti’s hand and then made a slight head nod to the women, repeating, “Päivää” to each of them. “When did you get back?” he asked Aino in Finnish.
“Two days ago.”
“The heat’s off then.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded yes.
“We missed you.”
“Come for dinner,” she blurted out. She quickly looked at Alma, who smiled approval. Aksel gave a look toward the Bachelor Boys, who had dispersed among the picnickers. “They can come, too.” Aino said. “I owe all of you.”
Matti had already left to look at the Oldsmobile. Aksel smiled at Alma and Kyllikki. “We’ll tell the story over dinner.”
The younger children had to go to bed after supper, but Mielikki, Helmi, and Suvi got to stay up. All of the Bachelor Boys came, except Kullervo. He assured everyone he really liked Ilmari and Alma, but he always had some reason to stay behind. Ilmari had made a violin just three years earlier and was already a fair player, but it turned out Jens Lerback was a master, so Ilmari just did chords on the kantele and everyone danced with everyone. The three girls were trying hard to be grown-up and the Bachelor Boys were being gallant with dance partners whose faces touched just above their belly buttons.
Aino saw Aksel whisper to Jens, who laughed and said in English, “Name me a Scandinavian fiddle player who doesn’t.”
Aksel walked over to Aino, and Jens began playing “Lördagsvalsen.” Aksel held out his hand. Aino took it and she was filled with memories—of Midsummer’s Eve, of Knappton and Lempi, of Jouka, and of Aksel. The memories were like bright beads on a somber necklace. Her heart filled with longing for those moments and the people she shared them with. She could only conjure at the edges of memory the time between the beads, time not specifically remembered, but felt now, in this room, in her brother’s house, with Aksel reaching out his hand, here, now, sharing this moment. She knew she’d come home.
The Bachelor Boys left in the Oldsmobile as the sun was coming up. The adults had coffee.
“Good dancer, isn’t he?” Kyllikki said to Aino.
“Who?”
Kyllikki rolled her eyes.
The room was silent as everyone drank coffee. The cows would need milking, the younger children would need feeding, the soot would need to be dusted from the walls, firewood would need to be cut. The life of the farm was relentless and sweet.
Ilmari cleared his throat, a sign something serious was coming. “Aino,” he said. “We’ve been talking.”
“I hope you’re not sending me to Ullakko,” she quipped. Everyone but Ilmari chuckled.
“No, but it’s the same problem. You could stay and help Alma with the house, but—”
“We would drive each other crazy,” Aino said.
“Yoh,” Alma agreed.
There was a pause.
“So,” Kyllikki said brightly, “almost all the poikatalojas in Astoria were burned out. The lumber and logging business has been good. We own the land, so instead of rebuilding our house, we’re buying the neighbor’s lot to build our own poikataloja.”
“We’re going to wire it for electricity,” Matti said.
“Where will you live?”
“We’re going to build a new house on my mother and father’s land,” Kyllikki said. “They’ll live with us.”
Aino waited.
“So, Matti’s logging. I’ll have my hands full with the kids and my parents. We want you to manage the poikataloja.”
“I don’t know anything about running a poikataloja.”
“You worked in the mess hall at Reder’s Camp. You can cook. You can handle single men. You ran the business end of the co-op. You’d be perfect.”
“It will have an electric stove and electric lights,” Matti said. “Way less cleaning.”
“No fear of fires,” Kyllikki added.
“But … I’d just be a … a maid for fifty bachelors. I, I’ll midwife instead.”
“The doctors have shut the midwives down,” Matti said.
“I need to think about it.”
“Aino,” Ilmari said quietly. “Now is not a time to be proud.”
Aino accepted. While the poikataloja was being built, she helped Alma at Ilmahenki and Kyllikki at Suvantola. She fished for crawdads with Eleanor. She took her into Tapiola for candy at Higgins’s. She told stories from The Kalevala. Gradually Eleanor started warming to her. But when the poikataloja was finished and the day to move to Astoria arrived, it was clear she hadn’t warmed enough. Eleanor ran away.
After five hours of frantic searching and calling out her name, Jorma and Aarni found Eleanor at Vasutäti’s old campsite, which had become a secret hideout for the children, huddled against the back wall of the little bark hut. They told Eleanor that her mother said she could stay, and it was OK to come home.
She was furious when she found she’d been tricked and bolted for the door, but Jorma and Aarni stopped her. Aino reached out to take her arm, but she twisted away and ran to Alma, burying her face in Alma’s skirt. Alma looked awkwardly at Aino. She knelt, both knees on one of the many rag rugs, and hugged Eleanor. Then she pushed her back so she could talk to her.
“Eleanor, your äiti loves you. She wants very much for you to go with her to Astoria.”
“I don’t want to go to Astoria.”
Aino went to her knees beside Eleanor and Alma. She knew she was begging this tiny person who held her happiness in her power. “Please, Eleanor. I want you to come with me. I know it will be hard to leave Alma-täti.” She again reached out to her, but Eleanor pulled away saying, “I hate you.”
“Eleanor,” Alma said, kneeling down to her level.
“What,” came a little voice.
“When we face hard or scary things, what do we do?”
Eleanor said nothing.
“What do we do?” Alma insisted.
“Remember our sisu,” she said without looking at her.
Alma waited for Eleanor to do what needed to be done.
Alma had woven a beautiful little wicker suitcase with two colors and a little latch she had ordered by mail. She helped Eleanor pack, Aino anxiously looking on, and walked with her to the front porch. “You’ll see Matti-setä and Kyllikki-täti every day. Astoria has stores even bigger that Mr. Higgins’s and a school with lots of rooms where everyone in a room is the same age, and lots of girls to make friends with.” She bent down and hugged Eleanor into her skirt, letting her bury her face in it. “I’ll always be your täti,” she said, holding her close against her legs. Then, bending down and nuzzling her nose into Eleanor’s thick auburn hair, she said, “I will miss you and I will always love you.” She stood and tried to smile but turned and walked back into the house.
The children lined up. The boys shook both Aino’s and Eleanor’s hands and the girls gave Eleanor a flower crown to wear to Astoria. Then Ilmari pulled up in the wagon and they got in. Eleanor dived to the floor, burying her face against the rough wood of the wagon, saying nothing. Even with Ilmari’s coaxing, she wouldn’t wave goodbye.