“Yes,” the pastor says.
“Hrmm,” says the priest assessor. “The bishop said he would like to, hrmm, congratulate the pastor on his examination. I’ll go and see if he has time to see you.”
This takes some time, and the pastor is not wrong to suppose that the bishop gets a description of the exam. Then he’s told to go in, and there stands the bishop, smiling benignly, so full of health and well-being that Petter’s eyes swim. “Good day, good day,” he says and takes Petter’s hand, gripping it so hard that he can feel it in his head. “You’re a long way from home! How are things on the Örlands?”
“Fine, thank you. I’m grateful for the appointment. I think I’ve found my place.”
“I’m so pleased. Hmm. On the other hand, I was sorry to hear about the result of your examination, which was something of a disappointment. I understand you’re indisposed.”
“Yes, you might say. A tremendous headache. But I’m not trying to excuse myself. The way things went, I’m happy to have passed.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, of course. But your ambitions were rather greater.”
“I’m happy with ‘approved’. It means I can now apply for the incumbency as vicar. When the position of incumbent vicar of Örland is posted as vacant, you will find my name among the applicants.”
The bishop chuckles. “I don’t think we need to use the plural in this case. I don’t know when was the last time the Örlands had an incumbent vicar. Interesting! Pastor Kummel, have you considered the possibility that your talents might be put to better use in an urban parish where young people and workers face greater challenges?”
Petter smiles self-consciously. “I have marks indicating that my talents are meagre. And my calling is to the Örlands.” Which sounds false, though it’s true.
“In that case,” says the bishop, still genial, “then I’ll simply have to plan on a pastoral installation off the edge of the map. Try to arrange it for the summer so we’ll have nice weather and the priest assessor won’t get seasick. But now I’ll let you go so you can start to do something about that headache. Where will you be staying?”
“At my wife’s family farm outside Helsingfors. Tomorrow I’m going to officiate at the wedding of one of her sisters.”
“Well, how nice. Yes, then I’ll wish you a pleasant journey back to the Örlands and ask you to give my regards to your young wife.”
“Thank you,” Petter says. They shake hands. His briefcase waits loyally in the chair outside. The secretary hands him his freshly typed certificate of completed pastoral examination, discreetly enclosed in a brown envelope. He pays the stamp fee, thanks her, and reaches for his coat. “I’m very sorry about your headache,” she says behind him. “Be sure and get some real rest.”
So out into the fresh air, the sun cruelly blinding. Walks by way of the hotel, thanks the desk clerk humbly for watching his suitcase, whereupon the man triumphantly produces his alarm clock, which he’d left in the room. “Other things on your mind?” he supposes. Petter thanks him again, avoids stumbling on the doorsill, has to put down his bag to open the door, two murderous steps down to the sidewalk. He’s sweating terribly in the sunshine, wades like a drowning man to the bus station, where of course the bus to Helsingfors has just left. He sees a park bench under a tree and sits and waits and waits. When he’s finally on his way, he falls asleep with his briefcase in his arms and is lost to the world for almost an hour. In Helsingfors, people are starting to leave work and head home, there is a lot of traffic at the bus station and it’s a wonder he doesn’t run straight into the arms of someone he knows. He tries to avoid looking at people, and no one expects to see him, and they don’t.
One more bus ride and he finally arrives at the Helléns’. Most of the people in the house are at the clubhouse getting things ready for the wedding, but Mrs Hellén has been waiting for him and is happy to see him. “Well, now we can have a wedding, now that the priest is here,” she says. “I was starting to worry.” She smiles and then turns serious. “Come in and sit down. How are you? Didn’t it go well?”
“Yes, it was all right. I passed. Just barely. I haven’t slept for two nights and I have an unbelievable headache.”
“It shows. Now you need something to eat, and it’s important to get a lot to drink. We’ve got the house full of people and they all need to eat, so I’ve made a big pot of meat soup, and you can have bread and butter with it. Now, tell me all about it.”
Mona often says of her mother that she’s like a wall. A clam that never opens. Impossible to have an intimate conversation with. She never gives a personal answer to a question that can be a matter of life and death. Always the same—courteous, tactful. All the things that Petter likes her for. Most of all, he loves her discretion. Mona sees it as lack of interest, but to him it’s like a miracle compared with his own mother’s loose talk and constant gossip.
“Yes, I will,” he says. “Just between the two of us. I’ve had some really bad luck. I thought I was pretty well prepared and I’d arranged things so I’d have a quiet night in Borgå. So I reach the hotel in good spirits, only to be confronted by a housemaid we had years ago, Hilda, maybe you remember her? Unfortunately, Mama had told her I was going to be in Borgå, and there she sat, red-eyed from weeping. She’d lost her husband. What could I do? People have the right to turn to a priest. I’m to comfort them and give them courage. How could I have lived with myself if I’d turned her away on account of my exam? It turned into an awkward situation. She wanted to come up to my room, and then she wouldn’t leave. She talked and cried, and I was so tired I couldn’t get her to stop. It was past twelve-thirty when she left. And by then I was so shaken I couldn’t sleep. I got up with a burning headache and made a pretty poor show of it at the chapter house. I didn’t deserve any better than the miserable passing grade I got. I should be happy it didn’t go worse. I’m ashamed of myself. And now I have to call Mona, who’s waiting to hear how it went.”
“She’s already called. She thought you’d come on the three o’clock bus, but I told her you’d probably come with the five. I was right. Go and call her right away, then you’ll have that out of the way before the others come home.”
The telephone is on the wall beside Hellén’s desk. Petter sits down and orders the call. Fru Hellén doesn’t leave the room, and he’s grateful. She sits there as if she understood that he needed a protector and can’t be left alone. The call comes through almost immediately. He can picture the operator on the Örlands at full alert. She’s very businesslike about reporting long-distance calls.
Mona: “Hello!”
He decides to begin with the news that all of the Örlands is waiting for. “Mona!” he shouts. “I’m sorry you had to wait. But everything took so much time! Anyway, I passed, that’s the main thing. So how are you and the girls?”
“Fine. But how are you? You sound funny.”
“I’ve got a terrible headache. I have to admit it didn’t go exactly the way I’d planned. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”
“But anyway you passed?”
“Yes. But … Mona, I’ll see you in a few days, and then we can talk more. I just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be human again. It will be absolutely wonderful to get home.”
He leaves her with all her suspicions aroused. She doesn’t sound good when he ends the call. He turns to his mother-in-law apologetically. “You can’t start explaining things on the phone. In any case, I’ll soon be home.”
“Absolutely,” she says. “I’m thinking about how we can get you to bed as quickly as possible. I’ve put a bed in the weaving room, and I’ll tell everyone not to disturb you. But there’s going to be a lot of activity in the house all the same, so I’m going to give you a bromide to sleep on. Now don’t look so horrified, I take them myself when I need one, and I’ll be taking one tonight. Tomorrow you’ll wake up clear-headed and you’ll be in fine form for the wedding. If you want to wash, there’s warm water in the sauna, and I suggest you go out before the others come back. You’ll all have time to talk in the morning.”