Katerina's Wish (25 page)

I hugged him and told him it was a good plan, and then I let him talk about all his plans and hopes. I couldn't bear to tell him I had money now to start building that dream. And I certainly didn't want to undermine his happiness by bringing up the possibility of getting a farm.

When I left his house a short time later, my feet took me to the quiet pool by the creek seemingly on their own. I settled myself in the shade under the tree to think. I thought back over recent months and my new business plan. Old Jan was right. Hope for a farm had never really died in my heart. It had always been there, compelling me to set out once again. I had tried to deny it—had denied it to Holena and Aneshka—but it had lingered all the same. My heart was still looking for the other path. But I loved Mark, too, and I didn't want to break my promise to him. And so many things could still stand between us and the farm. I was scared to hope—but scared not to.

“You tell me what to do,” I said to the pool, but I saw no sign of the fish. I was apparently on my own for the hard decisions. I thought again about the box under Aneshka's bed and my mother's reaction to our savings. Of everything that had happened, that seemed the most magical of all. It seemed I had made a wish that would come to fruition whether I was still trying or not—it was going to keep jumping out in front of me like that toad in the story. The question was, was that a blessing or a curse? A chance, or another disappointment? And what was I going to tell Mark? It was mid-September. If the schoolmaster wasn't coming until October, we had two weeks yet before school started, and probably about two weeks before the mine would be hiring again.

“All right,” I said to the pool. “All right, I will give this two more weeks. I will try selling on the other side of the tracks. If it doesn't work out, I'm done with you and your wish.”

A leaf fluttered down to the surface of the pool and I watched, strangely expectant, as it spun slowly across the surface. I saw no sign of the fish.

It didn't matter, I decided, as I climbed the slope and walked home. I had made a decision, whether the fish had heard my bargain or not. Two weeks. I couldn't wait forever for a dream— not when I seemed to have promised that same forever to Mark, and I was going to have to choose.

THE NEXT DAY,
I asked my mother if I could go across the tracks and take orders in the Welsh and Scottish districts. Momma consented, as long as my sisters and I went together and stayed together. She needn't have worried. After having been warned to stay on our own side for so long, it felt strange and daring to step across the tracks and walk down the streets that had for so long been forbidden.

In truth, this part of town looked no different from ours, with ragged children and tired women on the streets and doorsteps. But the refrains of Welsh and Scottish and the flashes of red hair among the children made it all feel foreign.

My sisters and I were too shy to knock on doors. We only approached women in the street or called out to those on their porches. We had little luck. Several old women who were mending together on one porch just stared at us and spoke secretively to each other in Welsh. Another shooed us away,
mistaking us for beggars. My heart sank. My mother had reawakened my hope for nothing.

We were about to give up when we saw several young women in the street ahead of us. They were a cheerful group, laughing over their gossip, so we decided to give it one more try.

“Are you in need of anything I could order for you, ladies? I can get things delivered for much lower prices than the store,” I said politely.

The tallest, and apparently oldest, of the women looked suspiciously at me. “Can you?”

“Oh, she's that Polish lass we've heard about,” said a second, younger woman. Her curly hair was escaping from her loose bun and playing in ringlets around her face.

“Czechy, actually,” I said, taking my order book from my pocket. “Is there anything you need?”

“Are your prices really that good? How much for, say, a bag of flour?”

“I only sell dry goods, I'm afraid.”

“A yard of dress fabric, then?”

“Three cents a yard,” I answered.

“That is much better than the store,” the first woman said, considering.

“How many yards do you need, then? And I will need payment in advance.”

“Actually, I was thinking of the Llewellyns. They need all the help they can get right now,” said the curly-haired one.

“Oh, aye, Glenys,” agreed the older woman. “His old parents—eleven children, including a wee babe, and she's laid up with the gout. And there's something wrong with that poor baby. Oh, aye, they need all the help they can get. Go see them, lass, last house down that way.”

“Here, I'll show you,” said curly-haired Glenys. She led the way down the street to the very last house. It was a decrepit structure, the yard cluttered with old cans and slats from a brokendown picket fence. Two little boys were shouting and chasing a skinny yellow dog through the yard. The steps creaked threateningly as our new guide climbed onto the porch and knocked on the door. A small, pale, blue-eyed child opened it. Though she was about Aneshka's age, I could not recall ever seeing her in school.

Holena gripped my hand tightly as we entered the dimly lit kitchen. Aneshka crowded close as well, and I couldn't blame her. The smells of dirty laundry and urine were overpowering, and I fought the urge to pinch my nose. At the stove an old woman stirred a pot while a thin, naked toddler pulled on her skirts and whimpered. Dirty dishes were piled on the table, crawling with flies. From the bedroom came the high, sharp wail of a baby.

Glenys said something in Welsh to the old woman at the stove. She smiled toothlessly at us and waved her spoon toward the bedroom. There we met the lady of the house, a woman about the same age as our mother, but far more worn. Her blond hair was streaked with gray. Strands of it had escaped her bun and hung limp in her face, as if even they had given up hope. She was trying to get the fussy baby to nurse, but the baby kept throwing his head back and wailing.

“Nancy, I've brought some girls here to help you out,” said Glenys.

The mother frowned. She turned the baby up over her shoulder and started thumping its back.

“I can't afford to hire help,” she said.

“This is that Polish—er, sorry—Bohemian lass that gets goods for cheap.”

Nancy looked at me again, a bit of hope in her eyes. “Can you now? Can you get me flour, oats, and potatoes to feed me wee ones? I'd be grateful.”

“I'm sorry, I can't get food, only dry goods. But I can get shoes or clothes for your children.”

“What good are shoes for them if I can't feed them,” she said.

I could see her point. “Maybe I could get you flour or oats,” I said. Mr. Johnson wouldn't be hurt if we broke that rule just once. “I think it would be about fifteen cents for a sack of flour, and about the same for oats. I have to have the money in advance, though.”

Nancy's face fell. “Could you give me credit? Come fall when the mine's back to full production, I could pay you then.”

Before I could answer, Aneshka spoke up.

“No credit,” she said firmly. “The man who brings it demands his pay in advance.”

Nancy bit her lip and shifted the still-crying baby. “We could pay you next week in scrip. Just as soon as my husband and son collect their pay.”

I frowned. I was thinking that perhaps we could take scrip, just this once, but Aneshka shook her head and said “Cash only!” before I could respond.

Nancy nodded, her face grimly resigned. “Thank you anyway.”

She laid the squalling baby in a worn cradle and limped into the front room of the house, where the old lady was dishing up bowls of thin gruel and handing them to the crowd of children.

Seeing we'd make no sale here, we retreated quickly. We walked in silence up the street with Glenys.

“What's wrong with that baby?” Aneshka asked.

Glenys shrugged and shook her head. “The doctor can't say. He won't nurse proper. He can eat a little gruel made real thin, is all. Poor wee thing.” She shook her head again.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“I don't think you're that sorry, lass,” Glenys said. “It's the same with everyone in America. Money first; nothing else matters much here.” She turned and walked up the path to her own front door, not saying good-bye to us. I felt a rush of shame.

“Maybe we should give her goods on credit,” I said. “Just this once.”

Aneshka scowled at me. “If we start giving people things they haven't paid for, how are we going to save enough for a farm?”

“But they will pay later,” I said.

Aneshka snorted. “They are never going to have the money. You saw that house.”

“I wish there was some way to help them,” Holena said quietly, slipping her hand into mine again at the memory of the house.

I wished it too, but I could see Aneshka's point. Since I had surrendered control of the money to her, I would have to convince her otherwise if I wanted to spend any money from the box.

We walked on in silence, crossing the railroad tracks and continuing toward home. There we helped Momma with supper. Aneshka and Holena laid the table while I rolled the dumplings and sliced cucumbers. I was quiet as I worked. I was still thinking of the poor family, but there was more to consider. We had made no sales on our trip across town, and we weren't likely to, even if we went back. Momma had been wrong; my business wasn't going to grow. I was glad now that I hadn't said anything about the money or the new plans for a farm to Mark, glad I
hadn't disappointed him for nothing. Glad I had his happiness as a refuge.

Old Jan, Mark, and Martina arrived after supper, just as we finished washing up. We went out onto the porch, where a hint of breeze cooled the sweat on my brow. Mark smiled at me and I smiled back, despite the tangle of feelings inside me. He still had a dream, at least, and I felt lucky that he had made room in it for me. After seeing the poor Llewellyn family, I could see just how lucky we all were, despite our disappointments. I watched my sisters, fed and clothed, settling on the porch at Old Jan's feet, and an idea came to me.

“Old Jan, would you tell us a story?” I said. At once Aneshka and Holena added their voices to the request, as I knew they would.

Old Jan looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “Aren't you getting a little old for stories, Trina? After all, you're nearly a woman.”

I smiled back. “We're never too old for the lessons,” I said.

Papa smiled. “My Trina's becoming a philosopher,” he said.

“What story would you like?” Old Jan said.

“A princess story!” Aneshka said, as she always did.

“I like animals,” Holena said.

“How about the one about the boy betrothed to a toad?” I suggested. “It has a princess and animals.”

“Ewww!” Aneshka said, and both my sisters giggled. “Who would want to marry a toad?”

“Exactly what the boy thought,” Old Jan said, and he began the story.

“That's a fine story,” Momma said when he finished.

“And what is the lesson?” Mark asked, smiling at me. “Am I your ugly toad, Trina?”

“Of course not,” I said. “The lesson is, goodness will be rewarded. If the boy hadn't been so kind and charitable toward the toads, he would have ended up with nothing. But his charity brought a great reward in the end.”

“That is a good lesson, indeed,” Old Jan said. “Trina
is
becoming a philosopher.”

I glanced at Aneshka. She was chewing on her lip thoughtfully. I took the opportunity to raise an idea to my mother. I told her of our visit that day, of the squalid house, the poor family, and the thin gruel they ate for their dinner.

“May we take them some cucumbers?” I suggested. “I don't think they had anything good to eat. And I was thinking that tomorrow if you don't need the tubs, we could go do some washing for them. With that baby, I don't think the mother has been able to keep up. Plus, she's got the gout.”