stops in well-known places, such as "the Spirit of God descending like a dove," "Behold, I am making all things new" and "Those who drink of the water that I will give them." Without exception the journey always ended with a revivalist call to the cooperative souls sitting there, saved long ago.
One consolation was that things weren’t much better in the other churches around the town. God’s temple in Kiruna: a dilapidated hovel where the stale air stood completely still.
Gunnar stood up and came toward the exit. Slowed down to show respect as he passed the place where Viktor Strandgård’s body had lain. A pile of flowers and cards was already lying there. He gave her a brief smile and a wink. A sign that appeared to mean he was just going to the bathroom, or to have a quick word with someone in the cloakroom.
He wasn’t stupid. Not in the least. The very fact that he’d managed to get where he was today. Right at the top of the church, along with Thomas Söderberg and Vesa Larsson. Without any formal training as a pastor. Without any talent as a fisher of men. That very fact demanded a certain talent.
She remembered when Gunnar had told her that the Mission had a new pastor. A young married couple.
A week or so later Thomas Söderberg came to a service in the Baptist church. Sat in the second row nodding in agreement throughout Gunnar’s sermon. Encouraging smiles. Serious consideration. His wife, Maja, like a model pupil by his side.
They stayed for coffee afterward. Gray winter darkness outside. Clouds full of snow. The day dwindling before it had even arrived properly.
Maja talked loudly and slowly into Arvid Kalla’s ear. Asked Edit Svonni for her recipe for sugar biscuits.
Thomas Söderberg and Gunnar having an animated conversation with two of the church elders. Switching between serious nodding of heads and loud laughter, like a well-rehearsed, perfectly coordinated dance. United in brotherhood.
And the obligatory question to the southerners: How do you like it up here? The darkness and the cold? They answered as one: They absolutely loved it. They certainly weren’t missing the slush and the rain. They’d be celebrating the next family Christmas in Kiruna.
That was all it took. The fact that they didn’t feel they’d been banished to a distant place beyond the bounds of tolerance. No whining or complaining about the biting wind or the darkness that creeps into your soul. The answers made the congregation’s faces soften.
When they’d gone, Gunnar said to her: “Nice people. He’s got lots of ideas, that boy.”
That was the last time he called Thomas Söderberg, ten years younger than him, “that boy.”
Two weeks later she met Thomas Söderberg in town. She was pushing the pram through a blizzard. Andreas was two and a half months old, and would only sleep in the pram. She pushed him up and down the streets of Kiruna. Dragging the two-year-old, Anna, like a fretful bundle. Hands and feet freezing.
She felt dreadful. Exhaustion filled her like a gray, rising dough. At any moment she might just burst and go under. She hated Gunnar. Kept losing her temper with Anna. Just wanted to cry all the time.
Thomas came walking up behind her. Laid his left hand on her left shoulder. Caught up with her at the same time. For a second, just as he drew level with her, it was as if he had his arm around her. Half an embrace for a fraction of a second too long. When she turned her head he was smiling broadly. Greeted her as if they were old friends. Said hi to Anna, who clung fast to Karin’s legs and refused to answer. Peeped at Andreas, who was sleeping like an angel from God in his warm outfit.
“I keep trying to convince Maja that we ought to have children,” he confessed, “but…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Sighed deeply and let the smile fade away. Then he regained his good humor. “I do understand her,” he said. “It’s you women who bear the heaviest load. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.”
Andreas moved in the pram. It was time to go home and feed him. She wanted to invite Thomas back for lunch, but didn’t dare ask. He walked part of the way with her. It was so easy to talk. New topics of conversation just popped up by themselves, attaching themselves to the old ones like the links of a chain. At last they were standing