The Way We Met

1. Ellis Island Grand Hall-3

"Yes, we will find the station when we get into the city. The woman gave me a map when we were inside." She took out a small street map of Manhattan and unfolded it on her lap. We leaned together to see where we were heading on the next leg of our adventure, the three of us together. She smelled very good as I sat closer to her, to read over her shoulder. Something happened to me when she'd touched my hand and I would do anything to protect these two Laplanders. I had now claimed them as my own.

Amelia

Eric and I got along well from the start. He had a good face and I think that tells much about a person. He was very handsome with his blond hair and blue sparkling eyes, his face tanned from spending much time outdoors. When he approached us in the Great Hall at Ellis Island, I didn't know what to think of this man asking if we were Swedish. As usual, Bror jumped ahead without a care.

I did feel badly thinking he might be a thief, but his clothes were so worn and soiled, I couldn't help but wonder. There we were, dressed as wealthy people and this large man, with broad shoulders and big hands came up to us out of nowhere.

We waited for a second boat to take us to the city. The first boat seemed too crowded. When we got on the next boat, we were one of the first to get a seat. As more and more people crowded onto the boat, there ended up being no places to sit. When a woman came onboard with her two small children, obviously pregnant, and was going to be forced to stand, Eric stood and gave his seat to her, even helping her carry her belongings to where they would sit, arranging her children near her. He stood for the entire boat ride into the city, all the while teasing the children and occasionally catching my gaze. When we connected, he would grin and smile and I would do the same. I was quite proud such a man would be traveling with us. I nudged at Bror, but he didn't seem to notice, caught up in himself more than others. I whispered in his ear.

"I think Eric is a good man to give up his seat," I said.

"Yes, but stubborn too. It is hard to stand on a boat, kitten."

"I know, but he is strong."

I looked over at Eric Larson, this new man who had found us. His face was turned to gaze out at the city as it drew closer. He had a firm jaw with a muscular neck. His enormous hands gripped the rail of the boat. His hands were calloused from many days of hard work. He was sturdy and solid in all the right places, with a kind heart and a knowing eye. He seemed a lonesome soul to my eyes and I decided, after I felt something magical between us when I touched my hand to his, he would be a man I could be proud to make a husband. He was not rich but I didn't care for money.

We walked a long way once we got off the boat until we found Grand Central Station. I carried the map and did the talking for us, since my English was better. There was a small ride on a local railroad until we got on a railroad servicing the Great Lakes. We changed trains outside of a city named Hoboken. From there we got on a train to take us to Pennsylvania. When we finally got on the second train, we were exhausted, except Bror, of course. He always seemed to have more energy than any young man should have. He took a short nap aboard the train but I couldn't sleep a wink, even though my eyes were growing weary. There was so much to see while there was still light. I didn't want to miss a thing.

After about an hour, Bror rose up and stood over me.

"I need to use the bathroom. I'll be back after a while, darling. Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No, I'll be fine, but no gambling," I said.

I didn't notice the time when he left, but after Bror had been gone quite a while, I grew nervous. If he had only needed to relieve himself, he should've been back long ago. I tried to keep my mind on the scenery passing us by, the gentle rolling hills of largely farmland, trees and grasses.

"I'm sure he's fine," Eric said to me.

"What?" I asked.

"You keep looking toward the back of the train. I'm sure he's found a friend or two."

I didn't say a thing, but held my mouth in a disapproving line. I could feel my anxiety get the better of me.

"Would you like me to see if I can find Bror?" he asked. I nodded. Eric rose from his seat and leaned down towards my ear. "I will be right back, even if I cannot find him."

I sat for a long while waiting for the two men who were accompanying me on this trip. A fleeting thought went through my mind. I wouldn't know what to do if they didn't return. I had the luggage and the money, but I couldn't handle it alone. After a few more minutes, Eric returned and sat down.

"He's fine."

"He is playing cards again," I said. "He is so foolish."

"He's not. He started a talk with the train engineer, so he might learn how the train works. They are even letting him work with them for a bit, shoveling coal," Eric said. "If I didn't know you were here waiting, I may have helped him if they'd have paid me."

He reached over and patted my hand and I said nothing. I was amazed Bror had been so responsible.

"He promised me he would grow up," I said.

"And he's growing up," he said. He tenderly caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. My heartbeat faster with every stroke of his skin against mine. Never before had a man touched me so sweetly and gently. "You just seem so much more mature than Bror."

"We're the same age," I said, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"Aah, yes, but you are a woman. Men do not grow up as quickly. He will find his way."

Eric and I held hands all the way to Jamestown and, eventually, I ended up falling asleep on his shoulder.

Eric

Things changed when we arrived in Jamestown. The three of us, Amelia, Bror, and myself, walked up to the large home at 10 Eagle Street, a large stone mansion and was greeted by an elderly butler who held himself quite stiffly.

"Do come in," he said and gestured for us to enter. "Your party has been expected for quite some time. I will let the mistress know you have arrived."

The entryway was large and ornate, the staircase to the upstairs wrapped in polished walnut with fine carvings of Swedish scenery. This was a home of a very wealthy family, and I felt quite out of place. Brita Holmberg, a woman in her late thirties or early forties, entered the room wearing a sweeping dress. It hugged her curves, all in a delicate silken fabric flowing about her feet. In her hand she held a long, slender cigarette holder, puffing on it as she entered the room. She was quite lovely, her dark brown hair held up in a bun, her face an older copy to Amelia's.

"Very well," she said as she stood before Amelia and Bror. "You've finally arrived." She turned to the butler. "Jenkins, do have their things," her eyes narrowed and her nose turned up as she spoke, "brought to the maid's room behind the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am," the butler said, bowing slightly and reaching out for Amelia and Bror's baggage.

"And who is this here?" she asked, turning in my direction.

"This is our friend Eric, Eric Larson, who has come with us from New York," Amelia said. She reached out her hand to her mother, who barely touched her daughter in greeting, looking somewhat fearful she may get dirt on her dress. "How do you do, Mother?" Amelia asked, curtseying in the customary Swedish greeting for one's elders. Bror and I similarly bowed to their mother.

"I hope you didn't expect him to stay," she said. "I don't know how I could ever explain him to Warner."

"He's helped us a great deal. Of course, we expect him to stay. In fact, we demand he be allowed to stay," Amelia answered. Bror moved over to put his arm around Amelia's shoulder.

"Yes, Mother. Our friend needs a place to live as much as we do."

Their mother rolled her eyes and released a puff of smoke.

"It's just fine, as long as he stays in the stables."

Bror reached out to take his bag from the butler.

"Then I shall stay in the stables with him," Bror said.

Their mother gasped, her mouth forming a perfect O-shape.

"Fine," she said, turning to press her cigarette in an ashtray on a large round table with a gigantic floral centerpiece at the foot of the stairs. "If you want it this way then..."

Three children, all of them with blond hair, ranging in age from about six to ten bounded into the entryway.

"Mother, mother," they all cried.

The older boy said, "We wanted to meet our new siblings, mother."

The older woman's demeanor instantaneously changed to one of a caring, considerate matriarch, her smile broad and fine, her eyes now alight with good humor.

"Of course," she said, cupping the smallest girl's chin as she smiled down on her daughter. She crouched down to the children's height, her hands on the girl's shoulders, her face framed between them. "Heidi, Ingrid, Carl, this is Bror and Syster who have come from Sweden." She gestured toward me. "And this is their friend, um ..."

"Eric," I said. "Eric Larson. I'm pleased to meet you, children." I crouched down to their height as well and held out my hand.

The youngest girl ran over to me and shook my hand grandly, then ran to Amelia and threw her arms around Amelia's hips, her face pressed against her.

"I'm ever so happy to have another big sister," she said, then she ran to Bror and hugged him the same way. "And brother."

Mrs. Holmberg came over to her daughter, taking her by the shoulders, pulling her away from Bror.

"Now, children, why don't you run along to the kitchen where Mrs. Lafferty has some ice cream ready for you?"

The children's faces lit up with joy. They jumped up and down and clapped their hands.

"Yay! Ice cream!" they cried, and ran in their school uniforms from the room.

A maid came down the staircase, dressed in all black, with a grim face and stiffened back. Another maid, somewhat younger, yet dressed similarly, came out of a side room, carrying a metal bucket and hurried through the entryway toward the kitchen.

Mrs. Holmberg's expression was back to sour when she turned to the older maid.

"Ah, good. Mabel can show you to your quarters. Dinner is at six-thirty. We will not wait for you if you are late," she said. She looked over at me, looked up and down my person. "And you will wash up with some clean clothes before you'll sit at my table." She turned and walked away from her children without further comment, closing a heavy oak door behind her.

My heart broke for my new friends. They had not found a warm welcome from this stranger who was their mother.

Amelia

The first dinner in our mother's home was quite uncomfortable. She had given us a cool reception when we arrived which continued into dinner. Her husband, Warner, was a big, brown-haired man with bushy eyebrows and mustache, quite tall with wide shoulders and a dismal attitude about life. He had built up a successful business shipping freight upon the Great Lakes, but aside from his apparent wealth, I couldn't understand what our mother had seen in the man. He was grim and inflexible, a stickler for manners and decorum.