While Cecilia and Sister Hanna lay out the food, the pastor makes his calls. Sanna stands beside him, and he begins by saying that he has two important pieces of news: Sanna and Cecilia have filled the big sauna dipper with wild strawberries and, meanwhile, Mona gave birth to a daughter. Yes, a fine healthy little girl, although at the moment she looks like a boxer who’s stayed in the ring a few rounds too long, or like Dopey in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. And yes, everything went well, Mona is healthy and happy and sends her love. The homecare sister is in place and ready to do the milking, all is well.
At the table, Doctor Gyllen has to withdraw her outstretched hand, for the pastor is saying grace. “Bless us, Oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
“And the wild strawberries,” Sanna reminds him.
“Yes, of course,” says Papa. “Bless especially the wild strawberries. Thou hast created them, but Sanna and Cecilia have picked them.”
They can choose how to eat them, either heaped up on the soured milk or by themselves, with sugar and milk, after eating the soured milk with sugar and cinnamon and scraping the bowl clean. Papa and Sister Hanna choose to eat them with the soured milk, but Doctor Gyllen says she’s like a child when it comes to wild strawberries—she means to follow Sanna’s and Cecilia’s lead and eat them separately. “Just with sugar, no milk. Heavenly!” For the first time, Sanna dares to look at Doctor Gyllen, who always looks the same but looks almost happy at the moment.
No matter how hurried you may be when you arrive, and no matter what your eating habits are at home, at the parsonage you will spend a long time at the table. Until finally Doctor Gyllen says they must call the Hindrikses’ hired man so they can have some peace in the house and Sister Hanna can go to the cows. The pastor will go with her and instruct her, but first he calls the Hindrikses and thanks Doctor Gyllen for her services, and she suddenly hears herself say, “My dear Pyotr Leonardovich, you have a good home here and your wife does you honour. I am happy that I was able to help her a little, but on the whole she did it all herself.”
He too is a bit surprised to hear his name in Russian, but mostly he feels honoured. Presumably it means that he and the doctor are now on very good terms, and that with him she can open a chink in her harshness and abruptness and surprise herself. Now she goes in to say goodbye to the pastor’s wife and comes out smiling to say that Mona is now hungry. “Everything looks very good, but if anything should occur, you have only to call, day or night.”
Sister Hanna sends Cecilia in with a tray so that she too can see the new baby, and Sanna goes with her. Cecilia curtseys, blood red in the face, the china rattling on the tray. “Congratulations!” she whispers. “Thank you,” says the pastor’s wife in her normal, energetic voice. “Oh, I’ve been longing for a little something to eat. Bread and butter, soured milk and wild strawberries. You can put the tray right here and then have a look at our little addition!”
Sanna is suddenly an old hand with her sister, and when Mama turns down the blanket, she encourages Cecilia. “Don’t be afraid. It will look better tomorrow.” Then the baby moves, waves its little fists a bit and opens its eyes a crack, enough that they can see a tiny flash of brightness. She opens her mouth and says waaah waaah. “Ooh,” says Sanna. “Does it want a strawberry?” “No,” says Mama. “The first few months she can only drink milk. But I’m going to eat some of your wonderful wild strawberries. It was so nice of you to save so many of them for me.” It’s hard to talk because the baby screams waaah waaah the whole time. “Quiet!” says Sanna, but the baby isn’t listening, and Mama just lets her cry.
“We should go,” Cecilia says, but then Mama says she has something she wants to ask both of them. “What would you say to letting Sanna sleep in Cecilia’s room tonight, what with the baby crying and fussing. If Cecilia agrees, of course.”
“Oh!” Sanna says. “Oh yes!” And Cecilia says, “Yes, of course, if you’ll promise not to chatter all night.” “Good,” says Mama. “Then I’ll ask Papa to carry your bed upstairs when he gets back from the cows. And you need to be nice to Sister Hanna and do what she tells you, because she’s going to be here and help us out for a week. She’s a nice woman and likes children and cows and wild strawberries.”
When they leave the bedroom, Papa and Sister Hanna have gone out to the cow barn. The Hindrikses’ hired man is on his way into the church inlet, and Doctor Gyllen is on her way to the church dock. She’s in amazingly good spirits and wonders if that means bad news is on its way. It seems to be a part of human mentality that people lull themselves into a state of well-being and security just before some fatal blow befalls them. No doubt a characteristic favoured by evolution, since it gives people a small buffer—lower blood pressure, lower pulse, peace of mind—when the blow arrives.
As soon as he’s killed the motor, the hired man yells, “It’s a girl, I heard.” Doctor Gyllen has stopped marvelling. She accepts the fact that in some mysterious way (in which the telephone operator can be presumed to play a not insignificant role), every person on the Örlands, every horse, cow and sheep, knows that the pastor and his wife have had a girl, even though the entire congregation has wished them a son.
Chapter Sixteen
IT’S NICE HAVING THE HOUSE FULL OF WOMEN—Sister Hanna in the guest preacher’s room, Cecilia in the attic, Mona and the two girls in the bedroom. In the parish, people are saying, “Better luck next time,” because out here people want boys who can work and drive boats. Girls are fine after you’ve had two boys. “We’ve still got time,” says the pastor confidently, and it becomes proverbiaclass="underline" “’We’ve still got time,’ said the pastor.” “If you have girls, you’ll get boys,” is another saying he’s picked up on the Örlands. But for the moment, things are quiet. Like a little island of calm in the midst of all the summer’s activities, where the pastor’s family can be by itself with the help of friendly Sister Hanna and dear Cecilia, who keeps Sanna from feeling neglected.
Papa calls her Lillus, and after a few days, Sanna stops calling her “it”. When she turns out to have eyes, and then when she grips Sanna’s fingers hard, Sanna begins to think she’ll be able to have her around even though it’s sad how little she knows and can do. Mama insists that Sanna herself was just as little once, but Sanna finds that hard to believe. They must all help her, Papa says, so she’ll grow up and get to be as smart as Sanna. But it will take a long time, he says, realistically. Both Mama and Papa say she’ll surely turn out all right, although she’ll need a lot of help and looking after on the way.
Sister Hanna is a nice woman and talks to Cecilia and therefore to Sanna. It’s so pleasant to work in the parsonage, she says. Everything is well arranged, and everything was ready when she arrived. They understand her and appreciate her, and she feels like a princess in the guest room. She’s very fond of the pastor’s wife, and the pastor is too good for this world. He takes such good care of his wife! He’s an example for everyone, if only people knew enough to follow his example. This priest’s whole life is like a sermon. You have to admire such a young man who already knows so much about how life should be lived.