“See the horse?” Peter pointed at a cloud straight above.
“Where?” Kjristina looked hard at the sky. The summer morning was accented by a deep blue sky sporting a jaunty collection of cotton fluff clouds scuttling across its face, moving to form one shape and then blowing on to leave a different shape in its wake. Kjristina studied the formations, trying to make out the cloud Peter was referring to.
Finally a cotton horse galloping across a backdrop of blue meadow transmuted out of the abstract before her eyes.
“There it is!” she giggled. She could feel the dampness from the morning dew pushing through the back of her white cambric blouse as she lay back into the grassy hillside. She turned to study Peter’s face, watching him searching the sky overhead. His blue eyes sparkled and his five-year old cheeks still held onto stubborn pockets of baby fat, giving him a baby doll appearance.
Impulsively Kjristina reached over and started tickling her younger brother who shrieked with laughter and wiggled away from her.
“Come on, babes,” she said, pushing up from the ground and brushing off bits of grass and leaves clinging to her long skirt. “We’d better hurry. Mum will be expecting us back before we’ve even left!”
Peter chucked a pebble toward the stream running parallel to the trail, and then ran to catch up with Kjristina as she lifted her skirts and pushed forward up the path. A cool morning breeze made the air come alive with the rustling of the green trees lining the stream. Wild flowers poked their heads through meadow grasses with splotches of bright reds, vivid oranges, and pale blues. Kjristina stopped long enough to break off several stems, gathering them into a bouquet of blossoms which she tucked into the empty basket looped over her arm.
Now Peter took off ahead of her, and she had to run to catch up with him just as he rounded the bend. As they crested the hill, the valley opened below, revealing a cluster of thatched roofs bowing below a tall gray cathedral commanding an open space in the center of town. Rays from the early sun hit the ornate metal cross capping a tall center spire, casting a long shadow across the chimneys to its west.
Grabbing Peter’s hand, Kjristina guided him down the trail into the village, slowing her pace as she made her way to the church. Strains of organ music floated through the stained glass. Kjristina smiled as she imagined Sanders Jenson, the church organist, with his snowy hair and watery eyes, hunched with shrunken shoulders over the great console and attacking the Bach melody with gnarled fingers. In spite of his rheumatoid body, the music was sure and strong and added a breath of life to the still shadows outside.
In the cool shade near the back of the church was a quiet graveyard fenced in by tall black iron spears pointing skyward and cooled by the shade of aging poplars and shadows cast from the granite transept. The gate creaked open under the pressure of Kjristina’s gentle hand. As they entered, a somber mood settled over both of them like a heavy quilt. Kjristina knew that always bothered Peter, but she was glad he came in spite of it. On the days he accompanied her, she could be brave and smile and not cry. And she didn’t want to cry today. Not today.
But try as she may, there was still a knot in her throat and she had to force herself to push back the guilt from her eyes when they located the small headstone that marked her younger sister’s final resting place. Kjristina knelt and traced the engraved name with her fingers. The words Jennifer Anderson carved into the rough stone felt cold under her touch. Below it was engraved B 18 June 1841 D 25 December 1844 - a simple stone marking the tiny grave that had been silent for so many years now.
Peter stood by her side, quietly waiting. Kjristina took her time here, stilling for a moment the gnawing list of errands she needed to take care of, and blocking out the thought of that other thing she wanted to do today, the thing she would not have even confided in a best friend, if she had one. For this moment, all her energy was concentrated on paying homage to this tiny little mound that seemed so small in the center of the many larger mounds surrounding it. A large sigh heaved from her breast as she fought tears rising again to the surface and her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. She could never come here without the experience ripping out another small part of her heart. Maybe she shouldn’t continue to come, she thought, but she knew that wasn’t the answer either. She needed to be here. Right here. As often as she was sent on errands to town, she needed to stop here and remember. No matter how bad it hurt, she needed to remember.
Retrieving the blossoms from her basket, Kjristina pulled a blue ribbon from her hair and tied it around the stems of the bouquet. Then, with daisy yellows and azure bluebells contrasting brightly against the gray stone marker, she carefully tucked the makeshift memorial into place. She pressed her fingers to her lips and using them, transferred her warm kiss to the cold stone.
Standing next to her, Peter was patient. He could not remember a time in his life when they did not come here on shopping day, and the routine of this experience was already graven in his soul as sure as the words were on the headstone. So he waited while she bowed her head and prayed in silence.
Finally, pulling herself up, Kjristina stood one minute more.
One more breath. Then, “Ok, Peter, let’s get moving.” She forced a smile as she ruffled his curly locks, and clasping his little hand once again, she guided him through the headstones, around the wide tree trunks, back through the heavy gate, around the side of the transept, and on out to the cobblestone avenue.
Small shops lined both sides of the narrow road. A few shared walls, but most stood alone, with tree branches and roses filling the small gaps between the buildings. Shop keepers were about their business, sweeping away the dust that had settled through the night, opening shutters to allow entrance to sunbeams, preparing their markets to welcome the townspeople who would come on this day to fill their baskets. Dust was already rising to greet the morning sun. It would be another hot day. A small child pushed past the two, skirts flying as she chased a calico cat across the road. A couple of older women sat in the shade of a porch, heads nodding in agreement with what each was saying, and neither listening. The town was coming to life with the music of the rising sun and the song of the bees buzzing trails from one fragrant bud to another.
The visit to the cemetery always left Kjristina somber and it took a minute for her to shake the mood. She now forced herself to tuck her memories back into that corner of her heart where she stored them every moment of every day, waiting, just under the surface - not so deep to forget, but deep enough to keep from breaking it.
Squaring her shoulders, she now looked forward to the rest of her shopping trip. She straightened her hair, and her heart lightened as hope rose within her breast at the thought of the errands ahead of her. She found herself scanning the street, though she knew it was still early, hoping to see the large wooden wagon parked in front of the grocers. But all she saw was one blue roan and a team of muscular Clydesdales, heads bent and tails switching at the gnats and flies already attacking them.
Today was Tuesday. On Tuesdays ‘he’ also came to town, bringing in the crops from his father’s farm nestled in a mountain valley up the hills on the other side of the small community. Kjristina had never noticed “him” until one chilly morning a couple of months earlier. She had become distracted by a particularly striking bolt of blue silk in the miller’s store window. With her nose to the pane of glass, she imagined the dress she could make with the cloth, and as is common for young women to do, she lost herself in that bolt of fabric. The real world surrounding her faded into the world of her mind, where she allowed her imagination to dress her in soft blue gathers falling gently from her slender hips and the bodice fitting snugly around her waist. In her mind, she could feel the silk gliding against her arms; she could see how the color would look under the blond curls cascading over her shoulders, and how it would bring out the depth of her own blue eyes.
In her reverie, she did not notice the shadow cast by the young man with the square jaw who stopped behind her, distracted, himself, by the sight of her daydreaming at the window. Knowing she had no way to purchase the fabric that day, or any other day for that matter, Kjristina sighed, and then turning quickly to return to her errands, she walked directly into his chest.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. Her face blushed warm with embarrassment and she quickly jumped back, only to catch her heel on a stone jutting from the ground which sent her falling off balance toward the window pane. He grabbed for her hand to stop her fall, and steadied her. Suddenly all Kjristina could see were his smiling blue eyes, and she became very aware of the warmth of his hand holding hers. She pulled away, murmuring an apology. She felt even more embarrassed for her clumsiness.
This was so awkward. He told her not to worry, something about it being his fault for standing too close, and, tipping his hat, wished her a good day and turned away. His long strides carried him quickly down the boardwalk to where his emptied cart waited.
Kjristina stood paralyzed watching him as he drove his team away. “Oh, my,” she thought. Her feelings of chagrin and embarrassment and curiosity all rolled together into one huge knot in her chest. She had no idea who the man was. She didn’t remember ever seeing him before. But one thing was for sure, she would know if she ever saw him again.
Kjristina did see him again. She could not put thoughts of him out of her mind. Tuesdays, she noted, he came to town. Every Tuesday. So she found excuses to do errands for her mother on that day of the week. She would watch for him from afar as he went about his business, but she had yet to find the courage to place herself directly in his path, to find any reason whatsoever to speak to him, or even to learn his name. If he looked her direction, she would quickly turn away with her heart pounding and chastise herself for being so forward. If he didn’t look her way, she was disappointed.
And so this Tuesday found her once more in town, seeking out the form of the tall young man she so desperately wanted to know, yet feeling overwhelmingly insecure about meeting him face-to-face. This conundrum of feelings was confusing, distressing. On one hand she could never forget the warmth of his hand clasping hers, the look of his gentle eyes smiling into her own and a burning desire to make his acquaintance; but on the other she could not set aside her fear of looking even more like the fool she was certain she must have appeared to be. She thought she ought to just gather the items she had been sent for and hurry back over the hill, but then again… The delusive mixture of desires and shame had instigated an unrealistic outlook on the entire situation, inflating it far out of proportion until it had become an obsession.
“Oh, Kjristi, you idiot,” she scolded herself.
“Huh?”
Kjristina looked down. Peter’s wide eyes questioned her in bewilderment, and it dawned on her she must have spoken her thoughts out loud.
“Oh, um, noth..., nothing…” she shook her head, “… nothing at all…” and, tucking her empty basket under her arm, the two of them continued down the street to the grocer’s.
