Occasionally, as she kept struggling against the wind, the cold, the snow that was unlike any snow she’d ever known, these grainy pellets that clogged the eyes and nostrils and mouth, she thought of Anette and Fredrik, and worried about them. But then she forced herself to say, out loud, the names of each of the children soldiering on behind her, tied together with apron strings and pluck and luck. Her heart swelled with pride; none complained, not even the tiniest, as they trudged on, heads bent down like hers. They were one living, breathing unit. And she was the head. The heart.
Another step forward. Another. Another. Her thighs quivered, were on fire, but the rest of her legs and feet were senseless. The wind came at her from her left, now her right; punched her face with an icy blow, hit the back of her head. Her breathing was shallow, rapid; she didn’t dare to breathe deeply, lest she inhale the sticky snow. Lest the frigid air burn her lungs from the inside.
Sometimes, she wondered about Gunner. Had he come for them, after all? Had he pulled up to the schoolhouse, seen the broken window, the chaos of scattered papers and books and lunch pails, and run to the closet, empty of clothes? What did he feel when he registered that she was gone, that they all were gone? Worry? Terror? Loss?
Or was he still at home, still warm and safe, sitting with Anna, laughing with his children? Had he ever, in all those feverish weeks, spared a thought for Raina once she left his house? Now she doubted that. Before, she would have passionately believed that his every waking moment was spent thinking only of her. But something had shifted in her today. Maybe it started that night, when he so quickly turned from her to Anna. Anna, her hair burning bright around her shoulders, her white nightgown, embroidered extravagantly with pale blue flowers. Anna, a butcher knife in her hand.
Gunner had not tried to overpower his wife; he’d quivered and crouched with fright, not stood tall with defiance. He’d knelt before Anna, coaxing her back down the stairs, until the knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Gunner scooped Anna up in his arms, took her to their bedroom, and shut the door behind them. Leaving Raina alone in the attic, her mind still buzzing with all the unwanted thoughts and emotions he’d forced upon her. He’d invaded her bedroom, dared to kneel by her cot, rest his hands on her shoulders, whisper his plans in her ear. Tease her desires by telling her they were going to leave. Not asking her. Telling her.
Because to him, she was just a silly girl to whom he could do whatever he wanted. Because to him, she was a plaything. There was nothing noble in his devotion. It was vanity—she was a mirror, reassuring him that he was a man who could make a young girl lose her head. A reminder that as a man, he could take whatever he wanted.
The taste in her mouth was bitter, sour.
Suddenly she felt a tug; the apron string around her waist was taut. She stopped.
Tor was standing next to her, little Sofia in his arms, the other children, tied to them both, in a curved line between them. Only Sofia’s eyes were visible; Tor had taken his own scarf and wrapped it about her head. Tor’s face was red and raw, his ears a purplish hue. But his eyes were earnest and true. And worried.
“Miss Olsen, the little ones can’t go much farther. Rosa and Eva and Albert are barely upright.”
Raina glanced at Arvid, right behind her, manfully trying to conceal how wretched his breathing was, but his lips were nearly blue. She nodded.
“I know, we need to find shelter. How far do you think we are from your homestead?”
“If we can pick up the pace a little, I think we’re not too far. We have to be careful of that creek, it’s not deep but it wouldn’t do to get wetter than we are. But I think we’re only a few rods away.”
“Right. Can you carry Rosa, too? Untie Eva and bring her up to me. I’ll see if I can carry them both.”
“Miss Olsen, I can walk,” little Enid whispered, and Raina almost cried. She shook her head.
“No, dear, I don’t think you can, but you’re so brave, Enid! Such a brave girl!”