They stayed for coffee afterward. Gray winter darkness outside. Clouds full of snow. The day dwindling before it had even arrived properly.
Maja talked loudly and slowly into Arvid Kalla’s ear. Asked Edit Svonni for her recipe for sugar biscuits.
Thomas Söderberg and Gunnar having an animated conversation with two of the church elders. Switching between serious nodding of heads and loud laughter, like a well-rehearsed, perfectly coordinated dance. United in brotherhood.
And the obligatory question to the southerners: How do you like it up here? The darkness and the cold? They answered as one: They absolutely loved it. They certainly weren’t missing the slush and the rain. They’d be celebrating the next family Christmas in Kiruna.
That was all it took. The fact that they didn’t feel they’d been banished to a distant place beyond the bounds of tolerance. No whining or complaining about the biting wind or the darkness that creeps into your soul. The answers made the congregation’s faces soften.
When they’d gone, Gunnar said to her: “Nice people. He’s got lots of ideas, that boy.”
That was the last time he called Thomas Söderberg, ten years younger than him, “that boy.”
Two weeks later she met Thomas Söderberg in town. She was pushing the pram through a blizzard. Andreas was two and a half months old, and would only sleep in the pram. She pushed him up and down the streets of Kiruna. Dragging the two-year-old, Anna, like a fretful bundle. Hands and feet freezing.
She felt dreadful. Exhaustion filled her like a gray, rising dough. At any moment she might just burst and go under. She hated Gunnar. Kept losing her temper with Anna. Just wanted to cry all the time.
Thomas came walking up behind her. Laid his left hand on her left shoulder. Caught up with her at the same time. For a second, just as he drew level with her, it was as if he had his arm around her. Half an embrace for a fraction of a second too long. When she turned her head he was smiling broadly. Greeted her as if they were old friends. Said hi to Anna, who clung fast to Karin’s legs and refused to answer. Peeped at Andreas, who was sleeping like an angel from God in his warm outfit.
“I keep trying to convince Maja that we ought to have children,” he confessed, “but…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Sighed deeply and let the smile fade away. Then he regained his good humor. “I do understand her,” he said. “It’s you women who bear the heaviest load. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.”
Andreas moved in the pram. It was time to go home and feed him. She wanted to invite Thomas back for lunch, but didn’t dare ask. He walked part of the way with her. It was so easy to talk. New topics of conversation just popped up by themselves, attaching themselves to the old ones like the links of a chain. At last they were standing by the crossroads where they had to part company.
"I would like to do more for God," she said. “But the children. They take all the strength I have, and a little bit more.”
The snow was whirling around them like a hail of sharp arrows. Made him blink. An archangel with dark curly hair wearing a blue padded jacket made of some kind of synthetic crackling material that looked cheap. Jeans tucked into high-heeled leather boots. Knitted cap, homemade, with an Inca pattern. She wondered if it was Maja who was so creative. Maja, who didn’t want children.
“But, Karin,” he said, “don’t you understand that you are doing exactly what God wants? Looking after the children. That’s the most important thing of all right now. He has plans for you, but right now… right now you must be with Anna and Andreas.”
Six months later he had held the first summer church. A little flock of newly saved children waddled behind him like ducklings. Imprinting him as their spiritual parent. One of them was Viktor Strandgård.
She, Gunnar, Vesa Larsson and his wife, Astrid, were invited to share in the happiness when they held a baptism for the believers. Gunnar swallowed his bitter jealousy and went along. He knew how to join the winning team. At the same time he started the endless comparisons. The desire to try to shine himself. His face took on a cunning expression.
She wasn’t without blame herself. Hadn’t she said to her husband a thousand times: “Don’t let Thomas walk all over you. He can’t be allowed to decide everything.”
She had convinced herself that she was supporting her husband. But wasn’t the truth that she’d actually wanted him to be someone else?
Thomas Söderberg got up and walked over to the gospel choir. He was wearing a black suit. Normally his ties were colorful, verging on bold. This evening it was a discreet gray. An upside-down exclamation mark inside his jacket.
He carried his wealth as easily as he had once carried his-not poverty, she thought, his lack of money. Two people living on a pastor’s wage. But it never seemed to bother them. Not even when they had children.
Then things changed. He stood there now in his fine wool suit, talking to the choir. Said what had happened was terrible. One of the girls began to sob loudly. Those standing closest to her put their arms around her.
It was okay to cry, said Thomas. It was all right to grieve. But-and here he took a deep breath and uttered each word separately, with a short pause in between-it was not okay to lose. Not okay to go backwards. Not okay to sound the retreat.
She couldn’t face listening to the rest. Knew more or less how it would sound.
“Hi, Karin. Where’s Gunnar?”
Maja, Thomas Söderberg’s wife, sat down beside her. Long, shiny, sandy-colored hair. A little discreet makeup. No lipstick. No eye-shadow. Just a little bit of mascara and blusher. Not that Thomas had anything against women wearing makeup, but Karin guessed that he preferred to see his own wife without. A few years ago Maja had wanted to have her hair cut short, but Thomas had put his foot down.
“He was here a minute ago. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.”
Maja nodded.
“And where are Vesa and Astrid?” she asked.
Taking a tough line on attendance tonight. Karin raised her eyebrows and shook her head in reply.
"It’s really important that everyone sticks together at a time like this," said Maja quietly.
Karin looked at the red rose lying on Maja’s knee.
“Are you going to put that with the others?”
Maja nodded.
“Yes, but I’ll wait until the meeting is under way. I can’t grasp what’s happened. It’s just so unreal.”
Yes, it is unreal, thought Karin. What’s going to happen without Viktor?
Viktor, who refused to cut his hair or wear a suit. Who turned down a pay raise and made Thomas give the money to Médecins Sans Frontières instead. She remembered seven years ago, when she’d gone to a conference in Stockholm. How surprised she’d been when she saw so many young men who looked exactly like Viktor. On the underground and in cafés. Ugly knitted or crocheted hats. Soft shoulder bags. Jeans slung low on narrow hips. Suede jackets from the sixties. The slow, nonchalant walk. A kind of anti-fashion reserved for the good-looking and the confident.
Viktor had belonged to the court surrounding Thomas Söderberg, but he had never become a copy of Thomas. More his opposite. Without possessions, without ambition. Abstemious. Although the latter was perhaps because Rebecka Martinsson had crushed him in her madness. It was hard to know.
Maja leaned toward her. Hot breath hissing in her ear.
“Aha, here comes Astrid. But where’s Vesa?”
Pastor Vesa Larsson’s wife, Astrid, pushed her way in through the door of the Crystal Church. On the stage, Thomas Söderberg was leading the gospel choir in prayer before the evening service.
The trek up the hill from the car park had made her blouse wet and sticky under her arms. Just as well she had a cardigan over the top. She hastily wiped under her eyes with her index finger just in case her mascara had run. She’d once seen herself on one of the church video recordings. It had been snowing when she’d walked to the church, and on the film she had been going around with the collection bag like a trained panda. Since then she always checked in the mirror. But now the cloakroom was full of people and she was so stressed.