The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.2008, Side 35

Vol. 62 #1
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
33
girl from shattered Holland. Bit by bit her
story was told. A common story now but
none the less tragic because of that. A
bombed village, a broken home, father and
brothers gone in hopeless effort to resist
and finally, escape by ship. They were only
four then—herself, her mother and two lit-
tle sisters. Stunned, desperate, hardly able
to believe that they were free and on their
way to safety. Then the torpedo in the
night. The scramble for lifeboats and rafts.
Endless hours of black drifting, the storm
and at last, merciful unconsciousness.
Such things should never be. They
stamp themselves indelibly upon the mind.
They are always there, ready to spring into
being at a stray word or thought. But tem-
porarily, sometimes they can be forgotten.
Gretchen learned to forget and to
think of other things. More and more often
as days went by she would stand at the
window and look out over the sea. The sea
where Gunnar spend his daylight hours.
Her eyes would light up with a shy smile
when he came in the doorway at night and
Gunnar would smile back at her.
Many times in the evening Helga
would notice Gunnar watcing Gretchen’s
bright head in the lamplight and pain
would come like an aching throb to her
heart. As the days passed and her time
drew near, she grew heavier. Even the joy
of planning for her first-born child could
not dim the fear inside her. Gretchen blos-
somed into greater loveliness and the con-
trast between her and Helga became more
marked. Willingly she did more of the
work and insisted that Helga rest. To hear
the two talking one would have thought
that Gretchen was to be the mother, so
eager she was; so proud and happy about it.
Bur Helga saw the light in their eyes when
they smiled at each other as Gunnar came
in, and she knew that, man-like, Gunnar
did not realize where his thoughts were
leading him. She knew that Gretchen too
was unconscious of what was happening.
But her wisdom told her that it would take
only a small thing to open their eyes to the
truth. The knowledge hung over her like a
sword on a slender thread and she waited
and dreaded the revelation.
When a man has been married to a
woman for years and life has settled into a
contented routine he takes his love for her
for granted as he takes her love for him.
Gunnar was happy. He too was looking
forward to the birth of the child. He hoped
it would be a son but it didn’t really matter.
They had wanted a baby for a long time
and now that it was a certainty, it didn’t
seem of great importance whether it was
girl or a boy. The important thing was that
they were to have a child. So Gunnar
dreamed too as the weeks grew out of the
days.
There came a morning when the sun
rose out of the sea like red sails on the hori-
zon. Gunnar smiled reassuringly into the
sea-wise, anxious eyes of the two women,
and went down to his boat, promising to
return early.
Helga rested while Gretchen whisked
about the small house, sweeping the floors,
shaking pillows, dusting and cooking. She
was thoughtful, answering Gretchen’s
bright chatter absently. Gretchen kept
glancing at her and chattering on, deter-
mined to keep Helga’s mind occupied with
cheerful things. But after awhile her own
fears grew so strong, she too lapsed into
worried silence. She had been looking out
of the windows more and more frequently
as the morning passed. She had watched the
sea grow uneasy and scurry aimlessly back
and forth. The breeze had freshened and
teased the waves until they gathered them-
selves together and reached up in futile
white-capped anger. The skies frowned
darkly as rolling clouds swept up to hide
the sun. The world turned gray and there
was evening in the afternoon. The heavens
wept to see the day die so young. Wind-
blown rain struck at the house savagely.
Still Gunnar had not returned.
Gretchen lit the lamp and the two
women looked at each other, white-faced.
Their glances met, held and shifted.
Gretchen turned again to the window,
looking out as the veiled sea. “Gunnar,
Gunnar,” she pleaded silently. “Please
come home. Dear God, keep him safe out
there. Bring him back to me.”
Somewhere deep down inside her, she
heard a mocking laugh. “Bring him back to
YOU?” a jeering voice asked. “Why to