##//The Mister: A Novel//
Amazon and Barnes and Noble, in an effort to promote sales, offer Kindle and Nook tablet owners book samples that they can download for free. Samples are like movie trailers. They strive to lure us into wanting to know more about the story, and ultimately purchase them.
I have an idea for a novel based on my great-grandmother's relationship with her husband, specifically the four-year period between 1920 and 1924. By way of introducting my novel, I've developed this sample using hypertext. I want to know what happens when readers piece the story together themselves, and to see if a solid and intriguing introduction can be offered in a way that is not linear.
Welcome to [[//The Mister//->steamship]].
//Your man//. The words tumbled around in Alexandra’s head like the bile in her stomach. Humiliation clung to her like a corset. She looked over the edge of the ship into the harbor below. Deep in her skirt pocket, she fingered the letter her husband had written to his mistress two weeks before they began their latest journey back to America.
//“[[Raghnild->Mrs. Matthiesen]],” it read, “I hope you have not given up on me. We will soon be together, just as I promised. Arrangments have finally been made. The ship departs Liverpool 2 June, but rest assured, I am not going back to America. I will find you in Bodo four days later. Wait for me, please. I cannot live without you. M”//
Alexandra drew in a deep breath. Mathias was unaware his letter had not reached Raghnild, and knowing something he didn’t gave Alexandra some small satisfaction. The world was not kind to a mother without a husband, especially one who was nearly 50 years old with six children, two of whom were not old enough to lace their boots. Despite his lies and indiscretions, Alexandra had vowed to do whatever she must to keep Mathias with her. If Alfred Haugland kept him from leaving the ship, she would deal with his inevitable anger far out on the ocean, where he couldn’t escape.
When she was a girl, Alexandra worked in the home of the largest land owner in Hoiness, Olson Paa, to whom the people of Hoiness paid their //Trygd// (public insurance or social security). It was Olson Paa who owned the store and accepted the mail and other deliveries from the steamer that came around every few weeks. When Alexandra was 15, she worked as a //Budeie// (a milkmaid), caring for Olson Paa’s cows, horses, and sheep. She walked two miles to Olson Paa’s farm every morning and two miles home every evening, except for the two months in summer when she took the sheep to the mountain to graze. When Mrs. Olson learned of Alexandra’s strength and fortitude, she took her away from the mountain and employed her as a housekeeper. Having given birth to only sons, Mrs. Olson had a particular interest in Alexandra, [[who was unlike other housemaids->For the first time in 25 years]] she’d employed.
Mathias Peterson squeezed through the passengers walking up the boarding ramp, looking back cautiously to see if he was being watched or followed. Albert Haugland had barely left his side since leaving Kabelvag, and Alexandra refused to stay in her stateroom after they boarded.
“Suit yourself,” he said when she told him she was going to watch their departure above deck. His [[hand trembled]] as he took out a cigar from his jacket pocket. “I’m going to the salon.”
He leaned over to kiss her cheek – a nice touch, he thought – but Alexandra bent her head and his lips landed on the braid coiled on top of her head. She paused for a moment, as though she was going to say something, but she turned and walked over to Mrs. Haugland and the children, who waited for her near the stairs in the third-class belly of the ship.
Constance, who was not quite 3, rested on Mrs. Haugland’s hip. She sucked her thumb and twirled a curl with her finger in her pale yellow hair. She saw her father and waved a chubby hand in his direction. Mathias started to raise his hand when he caught a breath in his throat. Was this really the last time he would see his family?
Mathias frowned. Alexandra had been unusually quiet since they left a week ago. At first it was a welcome reprieve from weeks of fighting and pleading, but her silence now grated on him. [[For the first time in 25 years]], he didn’t know what she was thinking.
It was [[Alexandra]]’s hair [[Mathias]] first noticed when she walked into the church in Lyngvaer the day his sister, Petra, married Alexandra’s uncle Konrad. There were no black-haired Norwegians among the families of Leirness, and Mathias couldn’t help staring at her.
“Who is she?” he whispered to his mother.
“Konrad’s niece, Alexandra,” she replied. “From Borge.”
“She lives in Borge? Why haven’t I met her?” But Mathias’s mother raised a finger to her mouth to silence her son as she turned to watch her husband walk their daughter down the aisle.
//Alexandra//. Even her name is exotic. Mathias, a 24-year-old boat hand with an imagination as big as the swells of the north Atlantic, spent the ceremony in a daydream. As the guests filed out into the narthex to greet the newly married couple, Mathias weaved through the crowd to position himself at the front door of the church to meet Alexandra. When she came out, he reached out his hand to stop her, being careful to not touch her.
“Seeing as we are now family, I would like to introduce myself,” he said, removing his hat. “I am Petra’s brother, Mathias.”
Alexandra looked up at the thin, moustached man standing over her. She’d not seen a man so tall before.
“I am Alexandra Anderson,” she said, cocking her head slightly.
He offered her his arm. “Will you walk with me to the reception?”
Alexandra pulled at her gloves, but made no move to accept his arm. A piece of hair fell out of her braid and she [[tucked it behind her ear]].
Mathias' hands shook as he took a cup and saucer out of the cupboard. The cup slipped from his hands and fell to the floor.
“I’ll get that,” said Alexandra. She picked up the cup and examined it for chips. Finding none, she wiped it off and poured him some coffee.
“Where did [[Erling->Matthiesen]] find you? He practically ran through the kitchen when he got home. Were you rolling cigars again?” Alexandra smiled as she thought about Mathias’s failed attempts at making his own cigars to sell in his butcher shop. Mathias made the best sausage in Kabelvag, but he couldn’t get into the rhythm of rolling tobacco leaves. They were either too tight and he couldn’t get a draw when he lit the tip, or too loose that red-hot cinders raced to the end on the inhale.
“My brother is in the hospital and you tease me about cigars?” Mathias tried to look hurt. As though she sensed her father was being ill-treated by her mother, Mina walked in the room.
“Will [[Uncle Ingvar->Anna]] be all right, Far?” she asked.
“Yes, //elskede//,” he replied. “But your mor would rather tease me than talk about my brother.”
Alexandra rolled her eyes. “Mina, put some water to heating on the stove for the girls’ baths.”
“One day you’ll roll the perfect cigar, I just know it.” [[Mina->home]] kissed her father on his cheek before brushing past her mother and letting out a sigh.
His hand continued to shake as he lifted the saucer to his mouth.
Alexandra watched him, her head cocked to one side. Mathias looked up. “I can’t drink coffee without you staring at me?” Placing his saucer on the table, he stood up and announced, “I’m going to bed.”
Mathias leaped from the bed after feeling the sting of a slap on his bare back. He turned around and saw Alexandra standing in front of him, her hand raised in the air prepared to strike him again. He grabbed her wrist. "What...what are you doing here!" he yelled. Alexandra wrestled away from his grip and kicked his shin.
"[[You son of a bitch->Anna]]! How could you!" Tears were streaming down her face. She looked over at Raghnild, who sat up on the bed, bare-breasted. Strands of her red hair fell from its cornet and blew in the breeze of the chaos unfolding around her. [[Her wild blue eyes->Mrs. Matthiesen]] challenged Alexandra to say something.
Mathias grabbed his trousers and an undershirt and dressed quickly as [[Alexandra turned->tucked it behind her ear]] and stumbled out of the room.
Watching Alexandra walk up the stairs of the ship, he willed her to tuck the loose strand of hair behind her ear. As if in deference to his thoughts, Alexandra let it hang against her face.
Mathias shook his head. The children needed their mother more than him, and besides, Alexandra had lost her passion for life. So afraid she was of getting pregnant again that she had refused him the last two years. While she claimed otherwise, Mathias did not feel she loved him. If she did, he reasoned, he wouldn’t be in love with [[another woman->Mrs. Matthiesen]].
Mathias comforted himself with the fact that he’d placed money in the bottom of Alexandra’s trunk. She would find it when she unpacked her things at their daughter and son-in-law’s farm in Minnesota. Surely a fine cook such as Alexandra would find employment before the money ran out, he told himself. They would all be fine without him.
Mathias looked around for Albert. Not seeing him, he placed the cigar back in his pocket and like a ghost, moved effortlessly to the boarding ramp. Liverpool was dense with immigrants and many opportunities to fade into the crowd. Just as he was about to step off the ship and blend into the mass of people waving goodbye on the docks, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder.
“The ship is this way, my friend,” said Albert Haugland.
Erling had seen the baker a few times, but the one time that stood out most was the day the police arrested his son for dousing the front of the bakery building with gasoline and threatening to burn it down.
“Give me the money, old man!” his son screamed. [[Matthiesen]], a short, pigeon-toed man with a wandering eye and of considerable size, stood helpless as people filled the street around him. When his son lit a rag and started pacing back and forth and ranting unintelligibly, Matthiesen still didn’t say a word as he backed up with the rest of the crowd to the doorway of the butcher shop where Erling was standing. Someone ran down the street yelling for the police. They arrived a few minutes later. The lit rag no longer held a flame so the constables were able to grab the boy and wrestle him into the back of the police wagon. When they drove away, the crowd lingered and watched Matthiesen walk, head down, into his bakery and turn over the “Closed” sign.
[[Mrs. Matthiesen]] was not in the crowd that day. “She’s probably off spending Matthiesen’s money!” someone said. People laughed in agreement.
Erling approached the back of the bakery, wondering if he should talk to the [[baker]] or simply return home and tell his mother that his father wasn’t in the shop. But that would be a half truth and Alexandra always knew when her children weren’t being completely honest. “A part of me is with you everywhere,” she told them. “And your eyes always give you away.”
He paced in the dark outside the back door, preparing his question. //‘Sir, have you seen my father this evening?’// No, that wouldn’t do. //‘Sir, is your wife at home?’// No, no… //‘Sir, I have a message for your wife.’// Definitely not! //Just ask him where she is. If he asks why, I’ll say…I’ll say…what?//
The urgency of time crept up his spine. He resolved to figure out what to say once the baker opened the door. Erling walked up to the door and, just before he knocked, [[looked through the thin curtain in the window]].
The first time Erling met Raghnild Matthiesen was the day she came into the butcher shop looking for his father. She smelled like flowers, which stuffed up his nose. Her shoes had high, spiked heels, and her tailored blouse and skirt clung tightly to her body.
“He’s not here,” was all he managed to say. She smiled and pinched his cheek.
“Tell him I was looking for him.” She cooed at him like he was a baby. Erling’s cheeks flamed red, and he wrung his hands to stop them from shaking. He’d never seen anyone like her before and he wasn’t sure he understood the the feeling [[rushing through his body->looked through the thin curtain in the window]].
[[The baker's wife->your man]] was standing at a counter kneading dough in a large wooden trough. Mathias was behind her holding her waist and burying his face in her neck, which was bent back to receive his kiss. Their eyes were closed.
Erling looked away. His breathing staccatoed, and for a moment he thought he might pass out. //What do I do, what do I do?// He paced again in the dark until his breathing evened out as much as he could force it to. Anger replaced shock as he told himself he’d done nothing wrong. The culprits were inside. He was only doing what his mother asked him to do.
Erling stepped up to the door and, eyes glued to the ground, he knocked on the window pane.
“Father!” he yelled. “You have a phone call!”
Shuffling feet and muted voices indicated they’d heard him. The door opened and he looked up at his father.
“Why do you mean to disturb me like this, Erling?” Mathias hissed as he smoothed his coat sleeves.
“It’s…it’s Aunt [[Anna]],” Erling stuttered. “Sh…she called the telephone office looking for you. There’s been an accident.”
Erling couldn’t help glancing around his father into the kitchen. [[Raghnild]] leaned against the counter with a hand on her hip. She wore a hint of a smile. Long strands of her red hair had been released from the loose bun at the nape of her neck.
Mathias cleared his throat. “I will go to the [[telephone office->home]].”
Erling continued to stare into the kitchen.
“Erling!” Mathias snapped.
Erling’s gaze dropped back to his feet. “Yeee…yes, sir. I’ll tell mother.”
Erling ran home. //Tell mother what?// If he had anything to say about it, nothing.
Mathias surprised the family with his news on Christmas Day, 1920, that they were moving back to Norway. Alexandra was devastated. After years of living in the wake of the ebb and flow of Mathias's restlessness, they’d bought a farm of their own just before the war, and for the first time since they were married, Alexandra felt settled.
Traveling at the end of winter was mad, she pleaded, and [[Constance->steamship]], was not a year old. But Mathias insisted on leaving in February, even without concrete plans for what he would do when they got there.
"We'll move to a city, maybe Kabalvag, and I will own a shop!" he told the children. Turning to Alexandra, he said, "We will live with my brother and Anna for awhile." The matter was settled.
Ingvar and Anna lived in the four-room cottage where Ingvar and Mathias were born, and where Mathias and Alexandra lived before emigrating to America. She could still recall the cramped space, the fleas and body lice, the smells of fishing boots curing, fish drying, and body odor. Her back twinged when she thought of all the peat that would need to be sliced from the bogs on the side of the mountains to burn for heat.
While she was [[no stranger to hard work->Alexandra]], Alexandra had grown tired of being tethered to a man who couldn't find peace.
<img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-120" src="https://lynnharaldson.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/peterson20001.jpg" alt="peterson20001" width="400" height="250" />
//The Peterson family in 1920: Standing in the back are Johnnie, Katinka, and Mina. Erling is standing between his parents, Mathias and Alexandra. Alpha is in the front, and Constance is on her mother's lap.//
<img src="http://www.norwayheritage.com/gallery/gallery/Steamship_Companies/Canadian_Pacific_Line/01montrose%281%29-cpl.jpg" width="500" height="300" alt="Steamship Montrose">
[[Alexandra]] gripped the railing as the dockhands cast off the mooring lines of the Montrose. The hurtigruten from Svolvaer to Bergen and the voyage across the North Sea to Glasgow weakened her stomach. The train to Liverpool picked at her nerves. On the two previous crossings, she had stayed below deck, lying in a windowless stateroom with a pan next to her berth. But despite the churning inside and the mist and the countless passengers pressing against her – most waving anxious goodbyes to loved ones on the wharf – Alexandra stood on deck, determined to watch the land slowly disappear, like the ship was a snake shedding its skin. Her skin. She never wanted to see Europe again.
“Mor!” 4-year-old Alpha pulled on her mother’s skirt as she bounced up and down, her eyes dancing with excitement. Alexandra laid a hand on her daughter’s head. While she didn’t share Alpha’s enthusiasm for ocean travel, she would rather be seasick for seven days on a ship back to America than forever heartbroken in Kabelvag.
“Come, child,” said Amalia Haugland as she picked up Alpha. “Let’s see what the others are looking at on the other side.”
Alexandra smiled weakly. Mrs. Haugland touched her arm and offered a sympathetic look. “Don’t you worry, my dear,” she said softly. “Albert is keeping close watch of [[your man]].”
She smoothed her skirt and paused her hands over the curve of her hips. She felt the weight that remained after Constance was born three years ago. Thin and strong all her life, Alexandra hardly recognized her body anymore. Her long black hair, once admired by the blond women in Norway, was littered with wiry gray strands that refused to be tamed. Even her teeth rebelled and she wore dentures. Agitation and anxiety came more readily, and sometimes – for no reason Alexandra could fathom – she’d cry when washing the dishes or hanging the laundry on the line.
Betrayed by her body and again by [[Mathias]], Alexandra struggled to remember what it felt like to be happy.
[[Erling->baker]] found his mother at the railing.
“We’re going below deck, Mor,” he said in Norwegian. “The girls are hungry.”
Alexandra nodded at her son, a tall, thin boy of 14. “I will be there soon, //den lille//,” she said slowly in as much English as she could muster. “//Mange tak// for helping take care of your sisters. There is bread and cheese in the basket in our room.”
“Thank you, Mother!” Erling replied in English and dashed away through the crowd.
Speaking English had become difficult after two years in Norway. Erling asked Alexandra to practice with him before they left, but too much needed to be communicated in the last month for her to think so carefully about English words. Instead, she promised him they would all communicate in English once they were on the ship in Liverpool. All, that is, except Mathias, if he talked to her at all, since he refused to learn English, even after living 18 years in America.
Mathias thanked Otterstad and walked out of the telephone office. He kept a slow pace the two blocks to home as he thought about what trouble might await him. Would [[the boy->steamship]] keep his secret? It was hard to know with Erling. Mathias always knew he loved his mother best. All the children did, for that matter. Except [[Mina->hand trembled]]. She took his side in any debate and agreed with whatever opinion he might have. If there was a fight tonight, he knew Mina would defend him.
“Far!” Alpha yelled from the floor when he walked in. She was buttoning one of her doll’s dresses and didn’t look up. Alexandra was reading a magazine. Constance was sitting on her lap, chewing a cold rag to relieve her teething. //If Alexandra suspects anything, she's being uncharacteristically calm,// he thought.
“How is Ingvar?” she asked, removing her glasses.
“He will be fine.” Mathias tried reading her face. Except for the concern in her voice, all seemed well. “He broke his leg and a few ribs, but no internal injuries they can find. I told Anna I would go to the hospital in [[Svolvaer]] in a few days.”
“I can’t give you the key,” the innkeeper said insistantly. “He’s with his wife!”
“I am his wife.” Alexandra spat out her words like a serpent had taken hold of her tongue. The innkeeper's face paled and he silently handed her a room key. As she ascended the stairs to the third-floor, it was like she was floating above herself, a spectator to someone else’s life. As she stood in front of room 304, she heard familiar laughter coming from inside. Shaking with anger, Alexandra slid the key in the lock and quickly turned the handle. She hesitated for a moment before [[throwing open the door->Raghnild]].