Oh yes, the name: what do you think of Ruth? Isn’t it beautiful? I know you mentioned Elisabet and Charlotta, but if you ask me, I think shorter names are more elegant. (Besides, how important is it really to have a “continental” name, whatever that means? Father said you’ve started to sound like big city folk. Did he say that to you, too? Perhaps I shouldn’t have written that. I don’t think he meant anything by it.)
Anyway, I found the name in our Bible group yesterday. Ruth has an entire book named after her in the Bible, and Pastor Mattias had selected a passage from it to read for the meeting. The group has already become quite the crowd—even Lena has started coming to meetings, though I think that may be less to do with her interest in the Bible than her crush on the pastor. Yesterday she wore that blouse with the pleated front that she says gives her a real waspish waist. But the pastor didn’t seem to pay it any notice; he just smiled warmly and said it was lovely to see so many new faces in the group. And that was it! In fact, he gave her no extra attention at all—I almost think she was a little put out by it.
We talked about Ruth and her family, and how hard it must have been not to have a home, and then Karin Änglund started to cry. The room went quiet—none of us knew what to say—but the pastor just sat down next to her, waited for her tears to start to settle, and then asked her what had made her so sad. Karin said that her mother and father might not be able to stay in Silvertjärn, that they might have to leave to find work elsewhere, and she didn’t know where they would go. She said that she would be homeless, just like Ruth. But then the pastor reminded her that Ruth found a new home, and he told her that she needn’t worry, for we and the church would be her home, and that he, and God, would always take her in. Then Karin started to cry even more, and when she whimpered, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” then my chest started to hurt, too, and I thought even I might burst into tears.
Mother thinks I haven’t noticed, but I can see her getting more tired and anxious by the day. She didn’t want to let on while you were here because she didn’t want to worry you, but I heard her tell Dagny that they’re short of money and that Father’s struggling to find a job. If things don’t get better soon then maybe I’ll be in the same boat as poor Karin Änglund.
But do you know what? It was almost a miracle, for no sooner had I thought that than Pastor Mattias looked me straight in the eye, and it felt like he could read my mind. He told us—though it felt like he was talking to me alone:
“Everyone has a home in the house of God. None of you need ever worry about losing your way. If your families lose their houses then the church shall be your home. If your parents and siblings leave you then we shall be your family. God looks after his flock.”
He sounded so truthful and confident, and I believed him utterly. And, for the first time in many months, I felt calm.
I hung back slightly after the meeting, and Pastor Mattias thanked me for all my help with the group, and for managing to bring in so many other youngsters. He even said he could never have done it without me! Can you believe it? Me! I hardly knew what to say, but he seemed to understand (he always understands), and just smiled. And then he said I could choose our passages for the next meeting! He said I could choose whatever I wanted, but that I should look at the Song of Songs, as he was sure I would like it. I haven’t managed to do it yet, but I’m certain he’s right. He always is.
But anyway, do have a think about the name! Ruth! I know it may not be so “continental,” but despite her hardships Ruth did become a queen in the end. So it is a royal name, and I think that’s even better!
Now, I’d best go read the Song of Songs, to try to select some passages. Write soon!
Your little sister, Aina
NOW
I wake up.
My heart is pounding, but I blink and sit up in my sleeping bag, trying to shake off the nightmare. I stretch out, let my fingers brush against the edge of the tent. I’m not in that van anymore.
What woke me up?
It’s pitch black in here. I have no idea what time it could be, but the dawn light hasn’t started to filter in through the thin fabric of the tent. It smells of humans and sleep in here, with a faint hint of rain.
I hear Tone roll over in her sleep, and say her name quietly.
No reply.
When I focus on Tone’s curled-up figure, I almost think her eyes are glinting at me in the darkness; that she’s lying there, silent and unmoving, staring at me. It makes my heart pound even faster, but the next second I’m convinced it’s all in my head. It’s just the lingering shrouds of sleep over my eyes, that’s all. She’s asleep.
I’m not used to waking up in the middle of the night. Staying up late for work, sure, but not the feeling of being wrenched out of sleep, the kind of unpleasant stillness that comes of being awake
