Adele’s heart breaks when she sees Mona active and brisk, at full speed, but without the dash and ardour that were characteristic of her as Petter Kummel’s wife. Now she’s the mother of these little girls, and it will take many years of work until they can stand on their own two feet. How will she manage? It’s the question everyone asks, and Mona gives always the same answer. “I’ll have to manage. That’s all there is to it.”
Mrs Portman has no children, and therefore Lydia Manström is counting on her to be an asset for the Marthas as well as for the work on public health. New energies and talents are always a good thing, so she bids Mrs Portman a hearty welcome. Now, in the beginning, she is a little aloof and makes no promises. It’s understandable that she doesn’t want to play a visible role until Mona Kummel has gone, but it can’t hurt to pave the way and welcome her into the community of women in the east villages.
Arthur Manström’s attitude towards Portman is, on the other hand, both prejudiced and dismissive. He regards him as a crashing bore, an unimaginative cretin, a self-important little pope. “You need to hear him only once to realize that he has nothing to say,” he declares after the first church service. He used to go to church now and then to show his friendship for Kummel, and he had a very high opinion of the social gatherings at the parsonage, but now he goes on strike. No one so utterly without a silver tongue can possibly value it in someone else. So there is no point in wasting his eloquence on Portman, our sounding-brass prelate, as Arthur calls him. This makes it harder for Lydia to cultivate Mrs Portman’s friendship, but by no means impossible, for who is it who sits on the vestry? Arthur or his better half? And who is chairman of the Marthas? Not Arthur. You need perseverance and patience while you wait for the parish to regain its even keel after the heart-rending events of the past year. Then it will become clear where people stand, and where the strengths and talents of the newcomers lie.
The little girls cannot imagine that the summer will end. For Mama, it passes at a dizzying speed. Their departure date at the end of August is already fixed, transport to the slaughterhouse for Apple and her calf has been arranged. Before she knows it, it’s time to milk her for the last time and ferry her to the steamboat pier, pursued by Goody’s anxious bellowing from the shore. From the steamboat pier, she is chased on board and down into the open hold of the freighter that will carry the Örlands’ wretched autumn beasts to the abattoir in Åbo. It’s all done harshly and mercilessly. For a person with Mona Kummel’s background, there is nothing unusual about sending animals to slaughter, and among all the cows she’s milked in her day, the obstinate and haughty Apple is not one of her favourites, but nevertheless. Her cow. Her life. Now over. And it’s awful to see how lost Goody feels, even though she’s had to put up with a lot of hard bumps from Apple and move out of her way all her life. Looking at Goody now is like looking at Lillus if Sanna were sent away.
Silly thoughts, as if cows were human beings. They’re not, and she has to get Goody under control and lead her into the cow barn and tie her up so she doesn’t rush around Church Isle bellowing all night.
The girls are nearly as unaware as the cows about having to leave. Sanna knows they’re going to move, though she doesn’t know what that means, but she has started to worry and sleeps badly, and Lillus, now two years old, is getting more troublesome. In order to get anything done, Mama has to hire Cecilia for a few weeks. Cecilia is calmer than Mama, and everything gets easier. Above all, Cecilia is Sanna’s friend, and whoever Sanna likes, Lillus likes. And with Cecilia in the house, Mama has to control herself and try to seem cheerful. She doesn’t mind that the girls are much happier in Cecilia’s company than in her own, for all that matters now is getting through the next few weeks, whatever the cost.
The days fly by. The sheep are sheared one final time and the wool packed away. On auction day, they stand on display in their sheepfold, naked and trembling. The cat is allowed to stay with the Portmans once Mona has told them about the mice, but the four hens are too much trouble and will be sold. On the day of the sale, all three of them go to Sister Hanna’s by boat—not because she couldn’t stand to be present, Mona assures them, but because she thinks the auction will go more smoothly if people don’t see her and grow depressed. The organist keeps the books for the auction. In light of all that’s happened, there is no reason to cry over the sale of the sheep and chickens, the milk cans and the farming equipment. “So what?” she says defiantly.
Yes, so what? She packs and organizes. Like a machine. Has to stop when the vestry appears to pay their respects. The organist speaks for them all, thanks her for the hospitality of the parsonage, looks back at the past three years as an unusually happy time in the life of the parish, hopes that the bonds between them will never be broken. He wishes Mona and her girls good fortune in the future, wants them to know they will never be forgotten on the Örlands. “Don’t forget us, either,” he admonishes her—and to help them to remember, he removes the brown paper wrapping on a lovely painting of Church Isle commissioned from an artist in Mariehamn.
The vestry in tears, the widow self-controlled, as she was at the funeral, but slightly less so now as she thanks them for the painting, for their friendship, and for the best years of her life. Turns quickly away, puts more wood on the fire, has a bit more colour in her face when she looks at them again and glances around the parlour. Packing crates stand in rows on the floor. Some have already been nailed shut, others will be filled with last-minute items. Her china has also been packed, so she doesn’t know if …
No, no, of course no one expects her to give them coffee in the midst of moving. They are leaving, but nevertheless they want to thank her, officially, on behalf of the parish, for everything, even though every one of them has thanked her personally as well. Adele Bergman in tears, Sörling clearing his throat and uncharacteristically quiet, Lydia Manström concerned, hoping they can leave without any further outbursts of emotion. The organist so tense that he can’t bring himself to suggest a verse of “Shall We Gather at the River” now that they must say farewell.
The vestry out onto the steps, for the last time. Everything packed except the most essential things, which will go into a suitcase in the morning. Cecilia is to go home this last evening. Mona doesn’t want a farewell committee on the shore, she wants to say goodbye in an orderly manner. “Thank you, Cecilia, for all your help, we’ve been so happy to have you here.” An envelope with her payment is put in her hand, real money. Sanna is allowed to go with her all the way to the bridge and then come straight back home.
Lillus cries when they leave, just Sanna and Cecilia. The evenings are already a bit chilly in late August, and Sanna shivers. Cecilia holds her hand and tries to be cheerful, but she cries when she says how awfully sad it is that they have to move. But Sanna shouldn’t be sad, she’ll have fun with Gram and Gramps and all the animals, and when she gets bigger she can come to the Örlands for a visit. “And I’ll write letters to you,” she promises, “and Mama can help you write back.”
All too quickly they arrive at the bridge. It still doesn’t have a railing, but it stands on solid pilings. Now that it’s there, no one need drown on the way to Church Isle. This is where Sanna will turn back and Cecilia continue on. But they stand where they are and hold hands. Cecilia cries, and tears run down Sanna’s cheeks and the tip of her nose. Anxiously, Cecilia realizes that because she’s older, she must decide when to go. She lets go of Sanna’s hand, feels how reluctantly it is withdrawn. Cecilia can’t look at her when she says, “Now I have to go. And you have to go straight home, otherwise Mama will worry. Goodbye, Sanna. Run home now.”