Devotion
Anna coughed as she opened the back door to let out the worst of the smoke from the fireplace. As the grey clouds billowed out, white snowflakes whirled in, settling on the stone floor. It was so cold in the cottage that they did not melt but collected in little drifts around her feet.
A small voice came from the shapeless bundle of clothes on the kitchen sofa. "Mother, why are you opening the door? It's so cold!"
"Yes, I know, but we'll choke in here, I have to let the smoke out. I think one of those dratted crows has finally fallen down the chimney and blocked it."
And I can't do anything about it, Anna thought to herself. The kitchen was the warmest place in the house, because of the fireplace, but without a fire… What would they do? She couldn't get up on the roof to try to clear the chimney, and she couldn't go for help in the storm.
"I'm thirsty, mother."
Anna went to get some water from the bucket on the bench, but could not move the wooden ladle. She tried to break the ice, but the water was frozen solid. She stared at it in dismay. No fire, and now no water. They could eat snow to quench their thirst, but it would chill them down even more.
"Oh mother, I'm so cold, I wish father was here."
"So do I, Stina, but we'll have to manage somehow."
They couldn't put on any more clothes, they were already wearing all they had. Anna had wrapped up her daughter in the warmest shawls, and she herself hadn't worn so many skirts since she was married. Not that she had been a rich bride, who could put on six or seven skirts to show off her wealth, but she did have three. Oh, but she was only wearing two, she remembered now. She had already tied her third and warmest skirt of thick wool around her daughter's waist.
She thought longingly of her husband's wolfskin coat, so large that it could hold the three of them. It was lucky it was so big, because then he could take his violin underneath it in bad weather. That meant he could go to play at the winter wedding of the daughter of the richest farmer in the county. It had been a bad spring and a worse summer. The harvest had failed, and their cow had died. They needed money for seed to sow and potatoes to plant in the spring.
"Mother, couldn't we go to the stable? It would be warmer there, in the straw, with the calf."
Her daughter surprised her yet again. She came up with so many unexpected thoughts and ideas. Last spring, when the cow had died during the calving, Stina had persuaded her father to ask the neighbours if they would trade milk for meat. So instead of having to slaughter the calf because they had no food for it, they could raise it with milk fetched from three other farms. As Stina had said, they could not keep or eat all the meat from the cow themselves, anyway. Nor could any single farmer give them enough milk to raise a calf, but with a little from many, they could manage, she argued.
Her father had been doubtful, but finally gave in. So all summer, the young girl and her mother had fetched milk from the neighbours, a little from each farmer's cow. They had walked barefooted on dusty roads, sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes singing together. But more often than not the mother would fall silent and listen to her daughter's joyful warbling. Anna's chest often hurt, and she got short of breath easily.
She coughed again, the smoke still stung in her nose and choked up her throat, so she had difficulty speaking.
"Yes, we'll take the blankets down to the barn," she decided.
It was only a short walk, but the howling wind bit them with icy teeth and the snow stung their faces. Anna's fingers were so cold she could not strike the matches to light the oil lamp hanging from the low rafters.
The brown calf mooed impatiently in the gloom until Stina went over to it and stroked its neck. Anna raked out the dirty straw, and put down a fresh layer, building a thicker pile by the manger. Stina had wrapped her arms around the calf's neck and pressed her face against it.
"I'll get some hay in a moment, mother. I'm just so cold, I want to get a little warm first."
"No, child, you just stay there with the calf, I'll get her some hay so that she can eat, and then when she lies down, we'll snuggle up close to her, and we will get warm." But I hope Jonas will be back soon, we can't manage without a fire in the house for much longer, she thought to herself.
The half-grown calf was glad of company and settled down contentedly so that Anna and her daughter could lean against her and pile their blankets on top of them. It was definitely warmer like this, Anna thought, and smiled to herself as she remembered that this was not the first time Stina had crept up to the calf for comfort. One day she had broken a cup, and run away crying when her mother scolded her. They had looked everywhere for her, and finally found her curled up asleep next to the little calf in its booth.
The barn was older than the house, made from logs, not just sawn planks, so even though it did not stop the cold, it stood firm against the bitter wind howling outside. Anna was grateful for the warmth from the calf against her back, and comforted by the presence of another living being. She was used to being alone with her daughter, her husband was a popular fiddler for weddings and gatherings, but she still missed him when he was away. The straw rustled as she shifted around, and the sweet smell of the hay reminded her that winter would not last for ever.
Towards evening the wind blew itself out, and Anna went to the door. A pale moon lit up the countryside and threw long blue shadows on the glittering snow. Counting on her fingers she tried to work out when her husband would be back. He had been gone five days now. One day to walk there, the wedding celebrations would last three days, one day to walk home. But in this bad weather, of course he could not possibly get back today. They had eaten the last loaf, and she could not thaw the frozen salt pork without a fire, let alone make porridge or bake new bread. He had to be home tomorrow. With a sigh she slid under the blankets next to her sleeping daughter, and fell asleep almost immediately.
A crash in the dark woke her up, and she saw the outline of a giant against the moon shining through the open barn door. She was frightened at first, but then reassured when she heard a man's voice speaking softly, "Anna? Are you there? Kristina?"
With a sob of relief she threw the covers aside, ran to the door and flung her arms around her husband's neck.
"We've been so cold, we couldn't light a fire, there's something stuck in the chimney, I haven't got anything to give Kristina and the water was frozen," the words came out in a rush, Anna spoke without catching her breath.
"Hush my dear, I'm here now. I'm sorry I left you in the middle of winter, but I made good money. They were generous, and I've brought home some smoked ham and sausage, too. But why are you in the barn?"
His wife explained in a low voice about the blocked chimney.
They stood silently together for a while, looking at their daughter sleeping next to the calf.
Jonas tugged thoughtfully at his ear and said soberly, "You know, I think Kristina saved you both. If it had not been for her devotion to the calf this summer, it wouldn't have been here to help warm you in the cold."
Anna shivered. "Don't ever leave us alone again," she pleaded.
Her husband replied, "I won't, I'll always take you and Kristina with me if I have to go away again. I promise."
Author's note: this story grew from experiences recounted by a relative.
Times were hard in Sweden after World War I, even though we had not actually been engaged in the war. Harvests failed, and food was scarce, even in the country. When he was hungry and unhappy, my relative would go to the barn, and snuggle up with the calves for warmth and comfort. I carry a vivid picture with me, of that small child, with a tearstained face, hugging the neck of a soft-eyed calf.