Writer's Corner - This is Maplecroft Part Four

      Lizzie managed to maneuver Katarina into her bath and once settled with her injured leg wrapped and dry, Lizzie covertly admired the girl’s supple limbs and her ability to move around her painful injuries.
      Katarina, susceptible to any and all flattery, noted the expression on Lizzie’s face and smiled, bending up her good arm and flexing it. The biceps bulged.
      "My God!”
      “Its from rowing” Katarina beamed at Lizzie’s quizzical expression.
      “Yes of course, you kept talking about it in your sleep. And saying that you could take me for a ride, you know”
      “In Stockholm we have a crew team.”
      Lizzie had never heard of such a thing.
      “For women?”
      “Yes, we started it in middle school and have stayed together ever since. We even have a machine to practice on in winter that’s just like a scull”
      “A skull?”
      “S-C-U-L-L scull. A boat”
      “My God…” she repeated. Bibi had never mentioned this to her. Only that her daughter was “athletic”
      “Why on earth…?” she started to ask, then stopped herself for fear of being rude. Katarina only beamed back toward her as Lizzie soaped her magnificent back and shoulders .
      “I know, women shouldn’t do such things, we shouldn’t do anything that’s good for you. But we manage to sneak our time in anyway”
      “How many of you do this?” Lizzie couldn’t have possibly cared less, but she was happy now, as the soapy fragrant water rinsed from her hands down Katarina’s back.
      “Eight. And sometimes we split into two groups of four and race each other.”
      Lizzie looked skeptical, surely it was some Scandinavian ritual from the times of the Vikings. But the thought sent an involuntary thrill of pleasure through her. Muscle-bound Viking women sweating at the oars… Hmmmm. She remained near the tub, nervous about leaving her invalid rower alone in the water, the injured leg elevated and dry. Lizzie had wrapped a heavy towel around it, and adjusted it as much as possible to maintain the girl’s modesty. But like her mother, she seemed barely aware of her nakedness. (These Scandinavian women!) In fact there was a refreshing clarity and boldness to her demeanor which quite took Lizzie by surprise and relieved her. The girl evinced not an iota of the suspicion and fearful condemnation that most strangers now held for her. People shrank and snickered nervously around her. Or whispered behind her back, even those she’d once considered her friends. Friends indeed. Upon her first pilgrimage back to church a free woman, they had vacated every pew around her. That had been the most hurtful; the beginning of her true sentence. Lizzie frowned at the memories.
      Pulling her out of these morose thoughts, Katarina spoke up.
      “This is the most delectable soap Lizzie. Where do you buy it?”

      She took a bath every evening that week, the hot water lulling her pain away. And then on Saturday she insisted upon tackling the stairs and coming down to dinner. This truly frightened Lizzie, but Katarina scoffed and to Lizzie’s horror, braced her good side on the banister and fairly leapt on one leg down the curving staircase. Athletic indeed, she was out of her mind.
      These Scandinavian women! Was there something in the water there?
      After dinner Katarina sat across from Lizzie in the front parlour. She had pulled on an cotton skirt from her dufflebag for the occasion, but still wore the nightshirt tucked into its waist and remained barefoot. She drank chilled beer from a long thin pilsner glass while Lizzie sipped a glass of French wine. Through the open windows it smelled like a storm coming, a late summer afternoon deluge.
      “Has Mother wired back?”
      “Not since the first one”
      “A lot she cares”
      “I’m sure she does.”
      Katarina made a small sniffing sound in response which conveyed disagreement and this tickled Lizzie until she had to suppress a giggle.
      “She’s a very caring person…” she replied instead, hoping to encourage Katarina’s scoffing. She loved any additional information about Berita, even the annoying things; they made her want her even more.
      “She’s a the kindest person, not an impatient bone in her body . . . ” Lizzie urged.
      It worked. Katarina sucked her teeth and pursed her upper lip, conveying clearly that she’d had experiences to the contrary.
      “Are we talking about the same woman? ‘Not an impatient bone in her body’… Live with her for a while and see if you still think so”
      “I would love to…”
      “Well, what happened?”
      Lizzie flushed, not sure how to answer or where to begin. How much did Katarina know anyway? She was sure that mother and daughter shared a close bond, like sisters more than likely. She went with that thought.
      “We were very close for the short time we knew each other”
      “She speaks highly of you”
      Lizzie beamed with pleasure.
      “Your mother is one of the dearest women I’ve ever known. It’s been a joy to have her as my friend. I only wish we lived closer to each other”
      “She’s told me as much too”
      Katarina eyed her with her mother’s intensity now, and Lizzie knew that she was wondering, wondering about the past. It bothered her more than ever that this young woman might consider her in a bad light. But what could she say now?
      It thundered outside, and the room darkened.
      “Summer storm” Katarina noted.
      “Good”
      Katarina abruptly asked, “Did you love her?” Lizzie did not hesitate.
      “I loved her very much. I still do”
      Her guest nodded her approval. She appreciated Lizzie’s odd and sudden frankness.
      “She was the first person I ever loved”
      “That’s usually the deepest cut”
      Lizzie poured another glass, suddenly saddened.
      Katarina rose with some difficulty, leaning on a small cane. She moved toward the window screens and looked out.
      “Is it raining yet?” Lizzie asked.
      "No, but there are people out front staring”
      Lizzie flushed with shame and anger, but only sighed in response. Katarina expressed both of their thoughts succinctly.
      “The morbid sons of bitches” Then to Lizzie’s shock, she addressed them.
      “You morbid bastards!!”
      They scattered. She aimed a few epithets in Swedish at their backs, sounding particularly threatening to New England ears.
      Lizzie leapt up and rushed to the window.
      “Shhhh! Don’t Katarina…”
      “Why? They were thinking that you killed me too?!”
      Lizzie visibly started at the words and blushed even further, with pain and sorrow now.
      “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say-“ Katarina limply attempted to apologize.
      “Its alright, I’m used to it.”
      They stood in awkward silence for a few moments and then, to Lizzie’s astonishment Katarina began to laugh. What on earth?!
      “Maybe they think you cooked me and ate me”
      Lizzie blinked in confusion, then she too began to laugh.
      "Yes, a fine pate de fois gras…” she added.
      “There was a surprising lot of breast meat”
      “But the tongue was a little tough, kind of sharp tasting”
      “And the left leg was gamey”
      They laughed together, earlier words forgotten. Secretly Lizzie was pleased that Katarina had reprimanded her detractors. She felt vindicated; her honor upheld. When had anybody ever done that? Even her attorneys had forsaken her, barely spoke to her now.
      She looked at her guest closely; people cringed and shrank when she eyed them like this, and she took a particular dark delight in effecting it on those that would condemn her. But Katarina did not look away. She held Lizzie’s gaze with a strange enigmatic smile of her own. A brave woman. A Viking woman ..
      “The bastards…” Katarina repeated. They sipped their drinks and continued to observe one another in the dim, pre-storm light. Lizzie felt that Katarina, like Nance, did not hold the past against her. Whatever had or had not happened on Second Street, Katarina would not question or condemn her In fact they shared a secret smile now that was almost conspiratorial.

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