A whisper of goodwill is heard through the room, and Doctor Gyllen, who has been sitting straight and attentive, smiles a little. He goes on. “In this case, we should perhaps consider the balance between the villages, since both will provide labour.” He smiles. “And Brynolf really did receive massive support in the second vote. So I will award the chairman’s vote in favour of Brynolf Udd. Let me congratulate the elected members of the Health Care Centre’s building committee—Gustaf Sörling, Fridolf Söderström, Håkan Ström, and Brynolf Udd. They may now choose their own chairman among themselves.”
The assembly erupts into life and clamour. If there is anything they love it’s strategic voting. Even though the committee is going to select their own chairman, everyone gets involved body and soul in speculation. The organist, who arranged to get no votes for himself, is now heard speaking out for Sörling, which upsets several people on the west side. “Fridolf possesses enormous practical knowledge that he ought to be allowed to use,” the organist explains. “Sörling is a politician. Let him struggle with the paperwork. A world of accounts and disbursements that Fridolf won’t have to deal with. Sörling likes being chairman. And the east villages win a prestige victory, which we can turn to our credit at some later date.”
The pastor and Doctor Gyllen listen discreetly and exchange a quick glance. The pastor waits until he can catch the organist’s eye and nods imperceptibly. If it is possible for Doctor Gyllen to have roses in her cheeks, they appear as tiny pink suggestions above her cheekbones. The pastor himself is noticeably amused and interested. He turns to Doctor Gyllen and says out of the corner of his mouth, “We’ll vote for Sörling?” She nods. Done. Then they remember at the same time that the voting will be internal, limited to the newly elected building committee members, and they both burst out laughing. Quite suddenly they are as deeply engaged as the villagers, in a matter they have no say in. Still, everyone hopes that the members of the committee have listened to the arguments on both sides.
“Now then,” the pastor says. “Has the building committee reached a decision about a chairman?”
“Yes. Sörling has had three votes, Fridolf one. Sörling is elected.” There is a buzz in the gathering. Before heading out into the night and the darkness, Fridolf feels compelled to make a statement. “Sörling knows this stuff,” he begins generously, but it’s too painful, and he continues: “And if he’s occupied with his papers at least I can work in peace!” Everyone laughs, even Sörling chooses to laugh. Fridolf glances around triumphantly.
“Excellent,” the pastor says. “My friends, I think we’ve done good work today. We’ve studied the plans and been inspired by them. And we’ve elected a competent and effective building committee. At Doctor Gyllen’s suggestion, I propose that the steering committee should meet in the near future with the building committee and Mrs Bergman and make some decisions about the next steps to take. According to the bylaws, special meetings of the entire membership can be called when necessary, which I will bear in mind. So I herewith declare the business portion of this meeting concluded.”
In cities, everyone rushes for the doors when a meeting is over, but on the Örlands, people stay and talk. And today there is plenty to talk about—their own Health Care Centre and their own share of the construction work. Even Adele Bergman, who otherwise always winds up at the pastor’s side, has other things to think about, and for a while Petter and Doctor Gyllen stand by themselves at the speaker’s stand, gathering up their papers. Sörling is to have the plans, but for the moment they lie on the table like a bond between them. Over the course of the evening, they have developed an understanding, and now they both look at the plans and smile.
“Another experience richer,” the pastor says. “It all went rather well, don’t you think? I have to admit that even though I try to be neutral, I got really caught up. One of these days I’ll stand here conspiring with all the other politicians.”
“Yes,” says Doctor Gyllen. “It pleases me greatly to see freedom of speech used so well.” She speaks more fluently now. “And their tactics work well. They chose good people, and a good chairman. Sörling needs to be chairman, otherwise he’s difficult. As chairman, good.”
“You’ve come to know them well.”
“Yes. And I think they know us better than we think.”
The pastor gives an appreciative laugh. “Well put. I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk. I know you’re very busy with work and studying, but we’ll be seeing each other quite often, I think. My wife will be coming to see you soon. We’re expecting an addition.” He looks a little embarrassed.
“Congratulations,” says Doctor Gyllen, neutral but not unfriendly. “I will be happy to see Mrs Kummel your wife.”
“Thank you,” the pastor says. “She’s convinced that it will all go well. I worry more.”
The doctor nods. “Many times it is the man who more needs the doctor’s help. It is reassuring that Mrs Kummel is not worried. She is young. The second child is easy.”
They both look down at the plans. “Just think if the Centre was already built!” the pastor says. “With a delivery room and everything. Now it will be at the parsonage, and that’s a long way for you to come.”
“I’m sure I’ll have ample warning,” the doctor says. But she too looks longingly at the plans. “It is difficult in many homes. Small spaces. Hygiene. But healthy surroundings, strong people. I believe you like them very much?”
“Yes,” says the pastor, drawing a deep breath to continue, but then Sörling walks up and he switches gears and sticks out his hand. “Congratulations. They made a good choice.”
Sörling is in good spirits. “Thank you, thank you. I think we can make this thing work.” He too looks down at the plans and smiles.
“We stand here staring at these drawings and can’t drag ourselves away,” the pastor says. “I’m looking forward to the next meeting when we take the first steps towards concrete action. Mrs Bergman can hardly control herself she’s so eager to start ordering. We’re all enthusiastic.”
“And getting such a big donation! But he knows us and wants us to do the work ourselves so we’ll feel the Health Care Centre is really ours.”
“He” is the Örlands’ famous son, chief physician and professor, member of the Nobel-committee-otherwise-he-would-have-won-the-prize-himself for his epoch-making work on heparin, which is used to treat blood clots and has saved innumerable lives. “Even for a man in his position, that’s a very large gift,” the pastor says. “I doubt there are many people who remember their native places in such a grand manner.”
“He had help,” Sörling says, a little barb in his voice. “The teacher took him under her wing, went to Åbo and arranged for a scholarship to the lyceum. Then a scholarship to the University and medical school. He had help the whole way. Others have to make do without.”
One of the others is apparently Gustaf Sörling. The pastor chimes in. “Yes, my guess is that there’s more talent here than most places. And it’s true that all too few get the help they need. Maybe he feels the same way and wants to show his gratitude.”
Fridolf has heard the end of this conversation and walks over. “We’re from the same family by way of my mother’s father’s father,” he says. “I can tell you from the time he was a little kid you could see he was a different calibre. So there aren’t so many of us here who could have done what he’s done.” His wears his family tree well, and he gives Sörling a kindly look. “We’ve done well this evening. You can put on a suit and go to Mariehamn and talk to builders. You’re good at talking.”