15
1945
Ritva ran up to Tuula as she was about to head out to work. There were tears running down her daughter’s cheeks.
“Mommy, can’t I come to work with you today?”
Tuula crouched down next to the child. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t. You have to go to school.” It was hard to say those words; every cell in her body protested.
When Tuula had gotten home the day before, she had found Ritva in floods of tears on the sofa. Eventually it emerged that Ritva’s classmates had laughed at her in school. Little by little Tuula had coaxed more details from her. Ritva had found it difficult to pronounce the teacher’s name, so he had forced her to say it over and over again, but she still couldn’t get the consonants right. In the end he had grabbed her by the shoulder straps of her dress, lifted her off the floor, and held her there, legs dangling, while the children ran around her shouting made-up Finnish words. And the teacher let them do it. Ritva told her mother that the children had been mocking her from the start, she had no one to play with, and the teacher did nothing to help.
Her heart broke as she pictured Ritva sitting at her desk, trying to answer the teacher’s questions, spending recess alone and then bullied by her classmates. Unable to hold back her own tears, Tuula had gone into the bedroom so that the children wouldn’t see her cry.
She felt so powerless. Given the teacher’s attitude, she didn’t think it would help to speak to him. It might even make things worse. All she could do was surround her with love and make sure she understood that the fault didn’t lie with her.
Tuula bent down and hugged her, then took her tearstained face in her hands. “I’ll see you this afternoon—I can’t wait.” She gave her daughter another hug, then hugged Matias as well before she left the house. She wished she could take Ritva to school, but the timing just didn’t work. Ritva had been so proud when Tuula gave her her own key to the apartment, so that she could take her brother to daycare and then walk to school on her own. There was no sign of that pride now; the spark in her eyes had been completely extinguished.
At work it was impossible not to think about Ritva and the situation in school. Aino kept looking questioningly at her, but didn’t say anything until their coffee break. When they had settled down with freshly baked Danishes and a cup of coffee, Aino turned to her friend.
“What’s wrong, Tuula? Has something happened?”
The words came pouring out. Aino placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Lydia, who had come out for a smoke, sat down beside them with a worried look on her face.
“Sweetheart, what’s happened?” Lydia took Tuula’s hand and held it.
“What is it?” This time it was Nils’s voice.
Tuula glanced up at him, and the others looked in surprise at their boss.
“Sorry—maybe it’s none of my business,” he said quickly.
Tuula shook her head. “It’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about.” She didn’t want to burden Lydia and Nils with her troubles.
Nils and Lydia didn’t leave.
“ Fru Anttila’s daughter is having problems at school,” Aino said eventually.
“Oh?” Nils said.
“Tuula, what’s this about? We want to know because we care,” Lydia assured her.
“It’s ... the children are bullying poor Ritva. And the teacher ...” Tuula’s voice broke, and Aino took over, relaying what she had just heard.
The tears poured down Tuula’s face. Suddenly, everything had caught up with her. When Juhani died, she had been inconsolable at first, but then she had pulled herself together for the children’s sake and had hardly shed a tear since. Not even when her mother died shortly afterward due to complications from pneumonia; nor when her sister, the last remaining member of her family who was still alive apart from the children, left with her family to travel into the war zones as a nurse.
“It’s barbaric,” Lydia snapped. “Is that how we treat refugees in this village? Children who’ve lost their father, then been forced to leave everything behind?”
“I apologize for crying like this,” Tuula said with some difficulty. “It won’t affect my work, I can promise you that.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second.” Nils looked pensive. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but then snatched it away as if her skin had burned him. She felt the same; his gentle touch had seared itself into her flesh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aino and Lydia exchange a glance.
Nils cleared his throat. “So the teacher allows this to happen?”
Tuula nodded.
“Is it herr Nilsson?”
Another nod.
Nils took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He disappeared into his office, then returned a moment later, pulling on his cap and jacket.
“ Herr Eklund, wait, you ...” Tuula stood up. She didn’t want to him to feel obliged to solve her problems. It didn’t feel right.
But Lydia grabbed Tuula’s hand and stood up too. “Let him go. If there’s anyone who can help your daughter, it’s herr Eklund.”
He jumped on his bike and pedaled away so fast that the dry gravel whirled up around the wheels, leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he disappeared around the corner.
The three women returned to the bakery and continued packing bread. Nils walked in a short while later and went straight over to Tuula.
“I trust that herr Nilsson will not upset Ritva again. If he does, or if the children are nasty to her, please let me know right away.”
Tuula nodded cautiously.
“I’ve known Nilsson since we were kids. He’s just a coward who takes out his own shortcomings on the children.” He shook his head. “I hope he’ll leave your daughter in peace from now on.” He gave her a brief nod, and before Tuula could speak he retreated to his office. She could have kicked herself—she hadn’t even managed to say thank you.
Ritva had an easier time of it for the next few days. Although she still didn’t have any friends, she was no longer being bullied, and the teacher had stopped mocking her. Tuula wanted to thank Nils, but couldn’t find the right moment. He spent most of his time in the office, and she didn’t want to disturb him.
One day, however, she summoned her courage. She tapped on Nils’s door a minute or so after he came back from lunch.
“Come in.”
She took off her cap and opened the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing me,” Nils said, smiling at her. That smile—it lit up his whole face and made her go weak at the knees.
She pulled herself together. “I wanted to thank you for speaking to the teacher, and helping Ritva.”
“Has the situation improved?”
Tuula nodded. “She doesn’t have any friends yet, but the children leave her in peace.”
Nils’s smile faded. “I’m so pleased I could help. I do hope that she’ll soon start making friends.”
“Thank you.” Tuula turned to leave.
“By the way, I heard you were curious about the ovens. There was talk of a recipe you wanted to try out?”
Tuula stopped, turned back. “I do apologize, herr Eklund. It’s just something I mentioned to Aino and Lydia. I ... you ...” She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought anyone was listening to their conversation the other day.
“Sorry if I was too direct,” Nils said. “But one of the bakers told me about your sourdough. He said you had a starter at home, and a special recipe?”
It was probably best to be honest. “Yes, I was asking about the ovens. I thought it would be exciting to see how the bread would turn out, given how hot they can get,” she admitted.
“Would you like to try?”
Even though she had been brought up not to be any trouble , it was too tempting an offer to refuse.
“Yes, please! Back home I used to bake in the kitchen at the hotel, but I’ve never tried such fine ovens as these. Ever since you showed them to me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
“I’m glad you’re interested.” The silence grew between them, and their eyes met. Tuula looked away, embarrassed. His expression ... once again she felt weak at the knees.
“I’ll bring the dough tomorrow,” she said eventually.
When she left the office, she stood for a moment with her back against the door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to slow down her racing heart.
After dinner that evening, Tuula prepared the dough so that it could proof overnight. She hoped it wouldn’t sink too much during her walk to the bakery.
In the morning she carefully transferred it to a bowl and covered it with a dishcloth. When she arrived at work she shaped the dough into a loaf, placed it on a tray the bakers weren’t using, then set it aside to proof again.
After the bakers had left and she, Aino, and Lydia had finished packing the last of the loaves, the other two women went home, leaving only Tuula and Nils. Nils emerged from his office just as she entered the bakery.
“Thank you so much for letting me use an oven.”
“I’ll show you how it works.” He smiled at her, and she tried to ignore the strange feeling in her heart.
He switched on the oven.
“You don’t need to do that—I can use the residual heat from the day’s baking,” she protested.
“But then you won’t get to see how hot these ovens can get—and that was the idea, wasn’t it?”
“Thank you.” Tuula gave him a grateful smile and uncovered the loaf she had made.
He nodded appreciatively. “So this is the famous recipe. What kind of bread is it?”
“This is rye bread, made with the sourdough starter my mother gave me.”
“You brought a sourdough starter from Finland?”
“I did.”
“How exciting.”
When the oven was hot enough, Nils opened the door, and Tuula slid in the tray.
“It won’t take long—that’s the advantage of this oven,” Nils said as he closed the door. “Are the children with Aino, or are they okay on their own?”
“They’re with Aino. We were neighbors back in Rovaniemi, and she was a huge help with Ritva back then.”
Nils nodded. “I like her a great deal. She’s kind, sensible, and the most loyal employee you could imagine.”
Tuula agreed. “And a loyal friend.”
“That’s good—we all need friends.”
She peered in through the glass door of the oven.
Nils cleared his throat. “I wanted to say that if you ever need my help again—if anyone is unkind to you or your children—just tell me. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thank you,” Tuula replied, although she knew she would find it hard to ask.
“Are you okay?” Nils asked after a while, looking searchingly at her. She hadn’t realized she’d gone quiet.
“I’m fine. I was just lost in my thoughts.” She checked the oven again. “I think it’s ready, judging by the color.” She opened the door, Nils handed her a glove, and she took out the tray. The loaf smelled amazing, rich and tempting. That was what she loved most about her rye bread—the richness. It was best enjoyed when it was freshly baked, with plenty of butter on it. After the butter shortages during the war, it would be pure joy to taste this bread with real butter.
“It should be eaten fresh,” she said, tapping the crust.
“Can I show you something while it cools?”
“Of course.” Tuula was puzzled, but Nils had a cunning smile on his face.
“I’ve been experimenting with a new wheat dough for our buns. I’ve changed the filling too.” He went over to the shelves where the buns were proofing, and picked up a tray of large, unbaked cinnamon buns. “What do you think?”
“They look fantastic.”
He nodded. “I hope they’ll turn out well. I wanted to make them a little fluffier.” He replaced the tray. “I’m going to leave them to proof until first thing tomorrow morning, then bake them.” He glanced over at the loaf. “Do you think we could try your bread now?”
“Perfect timing.”
He fetched a knife, cut two slices, took a packet of butter from the refrigerator, and spread a generous amount on each slice.
Tuula took a bite. It was heavenly. The crust had turned out thick and crisp, while the inside was silky soft—these ovens were phenomenal. And then there was the delicious taste of rye.
“This is amazing.” Nils looked at Tuula. “Absolutely amazing.”
“The heat definitely did the trick.”
“We could sell this bread, you know.”
She smiled hesitantly, unsure if he was serious.
“Sorry, don’t take that the wrong way—I’m not talking about stealing your recipe or anything, but this could be a real hit. Finnish rye bread.”
Her smile broadened. “Do you think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“My fellow countrymen would certainly love genuine Finnish rye bread.”
He gazed at her for a long time. “If I can persuade my father to add this to our selection, would you be able to bake it for us?”
“Of course.”
“As a baker?”
“You mean you’d employ me as a baker? Here?” She couldn’t hide her astonishment.
“Exactly. Naturally you’d be paid more.”
She didn’t know what to say. “But that’s ... It’s too much.”
“Not at all. This bread would be a real asset to our business.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and this time he left it there. They were standing very close to each other, and it was already very hot in the bakery. But Tuula suddenly felt even hotter. She longed for the coolness of the spring evening outside, but didn’t want to move away from his touch. After a while he removed his hand and finished off his slice of bread. “I’ll speak to my father. I assume you’re walking home—do you mind if I walk with you?”
Tuula inhaled sharply, and her heart beat faster. “Not at all, no.”
They cleared up, and Tuula changed out of her uniform. Nils locked up, collected his bike from the rack, and wheeled it onto the road. They set off side by side. It was still light, a sign that summer was on its way.
“So you’re from Rovaniemi?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I do, but at the same time I really want us to make a new life here. There’s nothing left up there. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the Germans burned everything, herr Eklund.”
“I have. And there’s no need to call me herr Eklund—it’s Nils.”
She smiled. “Nils. It’s strange—in a way I’m grieving for what we left behind, and yet I don’t want to go back.” When she found out what had happened to her hometown, she became all the more determined to create a fresh start for her family.
“I don’t think it’s strange at all. It’s hard to yearn for something that no longer exists.”
“True.”
Nils asked questions about the bread she had baked in Finland, and they became absorbed in details about different kinds of flour and proofing times. All too soon they had reached her street, and she stopped. “This is where I live.”
“And I live down by the square.”
“Thank you for your company, herr ...” She broke off. “Thank you for your company, Nils.”
“No, thank you. It was good to have the chance to get to know you a little better.”