He wonders if she’s noticed how bad he smells. And his cassock! He can’t possibly stand before the bridal couple smelling like a pigsty. She sees that he’s deeply embarrassed about something and leans her head to one side.
“I know how much you must have to do,” he begins, “but the truth is that I’ve been sweating like a pig all day and you can smell my cassock a long way off. If you know any means of getting out the odour, I’d be more than grateful.”
A tiny sigh escapes her. The sweat pads have to be unstitched, washed, ironed, and basted back in. But she tells him he can leave his cassock—and his shirt too—in the sauna. And in the morning she’ll deliver it to him in better shape, along with his washed, ironed shirt. “Thank you so much! I’m like a child, and you’re never rid of us!”
And indeed he does feel significantly better the next day. Yesterday feels pleasantly distant, surrounded as he is by friendly faces and lots of questions. The wedding goes well; of course it goes well when you follow the prayer book and the bride and groom say yes! The next day he visits relatives in Helsingfors and theological friends in the evening, and in between he shops for the clothes and necessities on Mona’s list. He also makes a private visit to a goldsmith and buys a piece of silver jewellery for her—in memory of his pastoral exam was his idea—now a memento of a somewhat different kind. He had thought all this would be diverting and fun, but what he feels most of all is a consuming homesickness. Of course he’d imagined how nice it would be to climb aboard the Åbo train and happily return to the Örlands, but not that it would feel as if he’d escaped with his life by the skin of his teeth.
How willingly he puts up with the dreadfully uncomfortable journey just for the joy of going ashore at Mellom quay. In September, the night sky is dark, but he knows that Post-Anton is there with the connecting boat and that it’s only a matter of hours. It is also a quite unexpected pleasure to see Fredrik, in the middle of the night, standing on the quay as he steps ashore with his suitcase and briefcase and an extra box.
“Well, welcome back! May I offer my congratulations?”
“Is it really you? Giving up a night’s sleep? I don’t know what to say. I passed, but not with honours. I’d like to tell you the whole story, but there isn’t time. And the telephone … I’ll write you a letter.”
Fredrik has stood there beaming benevolently, ready to pound him on the back and congratulate him. Now his happy anticipation is visibly replaced by a worried question—what has happened? Simultaneously, for one fleeting moment, his concern is overshadowed by an almost parenthetical realization that he is not altogether displeased by Petter’s not having passed with honours. But the moment passes, and the concern remains. “Now I’m really curious! If you need pastoral counselling, I’m at your service.”
Cargo is quickly transferred. We don’t stand here dawdling, for everyone has come a long way, and those on their way to the Örlands have a good distance yet to go. The pastor and the Mellom priest shake hands warmly, promise to write, hope to see each other soon. “Thanks for coming. Sorry the news wasn’t better. Best to Margit. Best to Mona,” they say. He’s put his things on board, his person as well, the whole priest and his effects on their way home.
Kalle and I have our hands full navigating our way out through the tight passage in the dark of night, but once we’re out in more open water, he comes into the wheelhouse and says hello. “You were right about the headache,” he says. “I barely managed to get through the day. How in God’s … how in the world could you know that?”
“Not so hard. I had a headache myself when I went to meet the Governor of Åland.”
“You mean bigwigs give us a headache? Well of course. But you were right about stones on my path, too. There was a real boulder.”
“In human form, I’ll wager.”
“Yes indeed. The case falls within my vow of silence, but how could you know?”
“I couldn’t know. Only imagine.”
“Like when you’re out on the ice. You can see how it’s going to be.”
“You shouldn’t take me so seriously. I just talk the way we do when we get older and know that things seldom work out the way we’d expected. If you’re prepared for that, you somehow get through it. And you did. You passed.”
“Yes, thank heaven. Now I can apply for the incumbency here and settle down in earnest. Oh my goodness, how good it will be to get home after this ordeal.”
It is autumn and so still dark when we get across the bay, and in darkness we tie up at the steamship pier. The church is still there, and the parsonage, and the pastor’s rowing boat is pulled up on the granite. The verger has rowed it over for him, and now the pastor transfers his things to it and pushes off. He vanishes in the darkness and all you can hear of him are his oars creaking in the oarlocks and the oar blades dipping into the water. His wife has been lying awake and heard us pass, for I see a lantern moving swiftly down to the church dock. The water in the church inlet is bright, and I see him gliding in towards the lantern like a black shadow drawn to the light.
“Welcome home!” she calls and he calls back “Thank you” and “How I’ve been waiting.” Quickly he hands his luggage ashore and steps ashore himself, pulling the boat up after him with one hand, the other already embracing Mona. It feels almost the way he had imagined this homecoming before he left, with his pastoral exam completed and much to tell. His distress is nearly gone, maybe he can get through this as well!
They don’t know where to start, if they should go in the house or sit down here on the dock and talk. “The wedding,” Mona says. “How did it go?” “Like clockwork!” he says. “I bring greetings from absolutely everyone. They all asked about you and the girls! And they all wanted to see the pictures! They’re excellent and went from hand to hand.”
While they’re talking, they’ve started walking as well, since she imagines he’d like some breakfast after his long trip. She carries his briefcase—“Like a stone! How can you walk around with this thing?”—and he his suitcase and the box full of the things he bought in Helsingfors. “I think I got everything,” he brags. “Wait till you see!” He’s looking forward to showing and telling. About Hilda, too, but not yet, and it’s a deliverance that there’s so much else to talk about—the wedding, her relatives, his purchases, the trip, all sort of things, while they reacquaint themselves and recapture each other’s trust.
Once inside the parsonage, Sanna wakes up and is joyous, more than Mona, who is suspicious and on edge, and while they’re eating, Lillus wakes up, and eventually Mama has to go out to the cows, who have picked up his scent and know that he’s home. As long as Sanna is around, it’s enough to talk about the wedding and give the silver brooch to Mona, who thinks it an extravagance, and the little things he’s bought for Sanna and that the Helléns have sent to her, but when Sanna quietly takes her nap and they sit down together in the kitchen, he can no longer put it off.