She stays for two weeks, but then she has to move on to a house in mourning, she explains, and Sanna cries. “A house in mourning here too, when you go,” says Papa. Mama thanks her heartily, and Papa makes a little speech. “You have been like a good angel in our house,” he says, and all except Lillus walk with her to the boat that has come to get her. Papa goes straight home and writes a letter to the local council about what a blessing this homecare aide has been to his family. He sends his warm thanks to the elected officials who so wisely decided to create this position in spite of strained finances.
Thanks to Sister Hanna, he has also been able to spend hours in his study, and there are times when he begins to foresee the end of his efforts and to believe he’s got a handle on his dissertation. Fredrik has of course passed his exams with flying colours and has sent Petter his questions, not a bunch of hopeless theological hairsplitting but problems that, with rigorous study and thoughtful consideration, he ought to be able to tackle.
Here on the Örlands, it’s a contest between the pastor and Doctor Gyllen as to which of them will finish first. They each ask about the other’s progress when they see one another at the meetings of the Public Health Association. Their conversations these days have an open, friendly tone. They can even tease each other a bit. If only they could do an exchange? So the pastor could get the doctor’s professional experience and the doctor could acquire the pastor’s ability to write Swedish! He has to learn the names of various potentates in the history of the church and she the names of a number of distinguished figures in Finnish medicine and memorize their specialities. She knows clinical medicine from A to Z, but “Ach, Pyotr Leonardovich, the cultural! Medicine is same all over Europe, but each country has its authorities! Titles and designations! God have mercy!” She stops herself, for she doesn’t like to refer to God in the pastor’s presence. He notices her embarrassment.
“Perhaps he will,” he comforts her. “After all, the emphasis must be on your medical, clinical qualifications. And in Latin rather than in Swedish. Which by the way you speak much better than you think. Of course they’re going to pass you. We all think you should have the right to practise medicine even without the Finnish medical exam.”
“Thank you,” Doctor Gyllen says. “And I think I know that the entire parish, I too, think you ought to be permanent vicar even without extra theological examination.”
“Thank you,” he says in turn. Seeing them from a distance, the organist thinks they look like a couple of thieves at a market, and the kindly Hindrikses, who can read their doctor better than she suspects, hope that in the pastor, who is well educated like herself, she will find a person she can talk to about the things that weigh on her mind. The Hindrikses, and the Örlanders in general, don’t need to spend years at a university studying psychology to see that people need to talk to each other to ease their burdens.
Sometimes this thought occurs to Doctor Gyllen herself, who, in moments of weakness, is strongly tempted to speak to this friendly young priest. She would surely be disappointed, as he has so obviously been spared the pain that torments her, but the temptation to expose herself to this disappointment remains distressingly strong. Two things hold her back—the fear that her self-control will collapse and she will go to pieces entirely and sit there sobbing, swaying, unravelling; and the danger that she will calm herself with a pill and then have no need to speak to him, although she has set the time and place.
For the third year she has her parents as summer guests. Petter has met them at the store and at church, where once each summer they attend a service as a kind of social obligation, despite that fact that the general’s wife is Greek Orthodox. Now the pastor gets the idea to invite them to Lillus’s christening, which will take place in the church, with coffee after at the parsonage. The pastor’s own parents will come, along with one of his wife’s sisters and her fiancé, plus friends from the area. It would be an honour if … They owe Doctor Gyllen their thanks and would be delighted if … He is a little embarrassed and almost expects them to thank him and decline, but very cordially they say yes.
The front pews in the church are occupied by Petter and Mona’s relatives and the first friends they made on the Örlands—the organist and the verger and their wives, Adele Bergman and Elis, Brage Söderberg and Astrid, along with Cecilia and Hanna, who’ve been such a great help to them. Everyone in a festive, benevolent mood. Then the general and his wife with Doctor Gyllen, all three of them inscrutable. A warm-hearted christening, Lillus gurgling and delighted by the water on her head, by Papa’s voice, by everything so big. She is frightened when they all start singing, but she gets over it quickly, and after the baptism the pastor once again invites everyone present to the parsonage.
The general knows better than to sit and stare, and his wife learned early how to conduct herself. Doctor Gyllen has trained herself to look a firing squad in the eye without blinking, and no one can see what any of them are thinking. She doesn’t usually attend christenings. Pulling out new babies is not a problem, it’s a job, but freshly scrubbed infants dressed in white as the centre of attention can stir up feelings. Which are held in check with the help of half a pill, which doesn’t leave her muddled but allows her to function normally in social situations. Still, it’s a relief when it’s over and she can stand up, shake hands, congratulate the parents, and take a professional look at the baby, which looks very good! Remembers to greet Sanna as well. The organist, who understands children, says, “Congratulations on becoming a big sister,” to her as she stands earnestly beside her mother, and others follow his example.
Cecilia has run to the parsonage and got the fire going in the stove, and Mona and Sanna hurry after her with Lillus, who has filled her nappy and can be smelled from a great distance. Lillus! The others follow along at an easy pace. The pastor brings up the rear, walking quickly, and falls into step with the Gyllens, honoured guests who nevertheless draw attention to the fact that they are not members of the inner circle of friends. “A beautiful christening,” says the general’s wife, and the general adds, “Beautiful weather too. I allow myself to hope it is a good omen.”
“Thank you,” the pastor says. All sorts of things stumble on his tongue until he says, “A day to remember for us. I’m happy you wanted to be here.”
Doctor Gyllen is walking beside him, full of something she wants to say. She stops and takes off one shoe and shakes it. Nothing comes out. Her parents walk quietly on, arm in arm. The pastor waits politely. Doctor Gyllen straightens up, as tall as he. She talks the way she did when she didn’t want people to see that she was talking, without looking at him. “I too have a child. I am in such distress.”
The pastor pauses long enough to keep himself from blurting out some empty phrase. No religious talk, as he knows what she thinks of that. “Is he still in Russia?” he asks, a neutral question.
“You know that it’s a he?”
“People have mentioned it. Not gossip. With all respect. But still that you had to leave your son behind. The way things are in the Soviet Union, everyone understands.”
“I abandoned him. How can I live with that?”
“My dear friend, when it happened you couldn’t know you’d be separated for such a long time. I understand your sorrow and pain. I admire your strength and composure.”
“You don’t know what it was like. You never knew when you saw people if it would be for the last time. Colleagues. Friends. Your husband. Your child. If I had stayed, KGB would have separated me from my son. But that’s no excuse. I can never forgive myself.”