Mother Lode (35 page)

Each week he gave her the money he’d earned,
keeping only a small amount for himself.

“Jorie, you don’t know how much this means
to me. What you’re doing for your mama and sister.”

She held her cheek up to be kissed. “I’ll
save it for you, for college.”

He tossed his cap on the hook. “I’m going to
go hear Mr. Lewis tonight, and write it up. See if old Abbot will
buy it.”

“You’re such a clever one.
You’ll get ahead at the
News
. I know you will.”

He changed the subject. “New York will begin
service on its underground railroad this year.”

“The world is advancing
so. But Jorie, right
here
this summer, we’re going to have the Ringling
Brothers Circus! Won’t that be exciting?”

“I’ll take Eliza.”

She picked up an envelope, and pushed it toward
him.

“Open it,” she said
eagerly. “It’s from
The Modern Journal of
Poetry.”

He tore open the envelope.
“’We are pleased to inform you that we look forward to publishing
your poem
The Intruder
in our fall issue. We would like to retain your other poems
for future consideration.’”

“There’s no check?”

He shook his head. “‘We are a small press,
unable to offer remuneration except as follows: We will send you
five copies of the spring volume when the issue is printed in
October.’”

“Still, they accepted it, and maybe they’ll
print the others later. Don’t look so disheartened, dear. You’re on
your way, and I’ll be with you every step!”

He’d been thinking about Pa’s ‘sizeable sum’
all afternoon. He wondered if he dared ask. Well, now was as good a
time as any.

“Ma, Pa said I’d get a sum of money when I
turn eighteen.”

He could see her stiffen.

“Did he. . . did he leave me anything? Or
was it part of that worthless stock?”

“That money was not in stock certificates.
It is intact, being held for you in trust.”

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Do you
know how much it is?”

“You will find out in the fullness of
time.”

“I want to know now.”

She turned hard to him. “Are you thinking
that when you turn eighteen you’ll just take that money and run,
deserting your mama and sister?”

“No! No, Ma. I feel obliged to support you,
if Pa left you nothing. But if I get a scholarship I could go back
to the University in the fall, and my inheritance could be used to
maintain you and Eliza.” He thought this the perfect solution.

She looked up at him in surprise, confusion.
Finally, she said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. But I don’t
think it would go very far. We’ll talk about it when the time
comes.”

“How much is it?”

“The terms will be disclosed on your
birthday.”

“Tell me now!”

“I don’t know! You’ve set my head spinning
enough for one night, thank you!”

Surely she knew, but he realized that if she
didn’t care to divulge it, she wasn’t going to.

Jorie started teaching Eliza to play little
pieces on the piano. One day she turned to him. “Why doesn’t Henna
come any more? Doesn’t she want to?”

“We don’t have the money to pay her,
Izzy.”

“Can we go see her?”

Jorie made some inquiries and found that the
O'Laertys had moved to a better section of town. He was glad at
least that their lot had improved.

Three days later, on a lovely June
afternoon, he took Izzy to visit Helena. He didn’t tell Catherine
where he was taking her. He decided to just go, before she could
say no.

They took the new trolley as far as it went.
That was an exciting treat in itself for the child, who’d never
been on one.

The neighborhood was certainly a vast
improvement over the squalor of their previous living quarters. A
well-kept, modest house with a small garden stood before them.

A woman came rushing out of the house to
meet them.

“Jasus, Mary and Joseph, if it isn’t m’
darlin’ Izzy.”

Eliza jumped into her arms. “Henna!”

Picking her up and swinging her around,
Helena cried, “It’s blessed I am to have ye back in my arms, lass.
It’s sorely missed, you’ve been.”

“Hello, Helena. Hope you don’t mind our
popping in like this. Eliza’s been begging to see you.”

“Mind, is it? I should think not in a
thousand years. Come into the house and have yerself a rest.”

While the kettle was on Jorie asked, “Are
you doing all right, Helena?”

“Better than all right.” She looked around
her. “As you can see.”

Jorie didn’t understand how this had come to
be, but decided it wasn’t his place to inquire.

“And what be yerself doin’ home from the big
college?”

“I’m not going back. Not this year.”

Helena pursed her lips. “Is it your ma,
then, won’t let you go back?”

“She needs me.”

“Aye, she always will.”

Helena served tea and biscuits, and brought
Eliza milk. “Come sit on my lap, my darlin’ lass. She puts me in
mind of an angel in heaven, with her chestnut curls and innocent
face.”

“Why don’t you come to my house, Henna?
Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Oh, my precious darlin’, what put that into
yer wee head?” She grasped the child to her bosom. “Of course I
love you, and will to the end of time, dear child.”

“Then why don’t you come?”

Helena held the child away from her and
looked straight into her eyes. “Because yer mummy told me not to.
And that’s the long and short of it.”

“Why?”

“I told you, Eliza,” Jorie said, “Now hush
about it.”

Helena looked at the unhappy child. “I’ll
tell ye a faery tale. Have ye heard the one about the faeries that
raised the human child?”

“No. Tell me that one.”

When she had finished, Jorie asked, “How’s
Mr. O’Laerty?”

“Oh, himself’s doin’
grand. Daniel runs the
Penny
Whistle
now, he does, Sean bein’
retired.”

“I’m glad he was able to find work after. .
.”

“After he lost his arm in the mine, you
mean. As himself would say, “He’s still got his drinking arm,” she
laughed.

When it was time to go Jorie stood up and
thanked Helena for her hospitality.

“So soon? Well, don’t make yourself a
stranger. Come back and meet my Daniel.”

“I will. I promise.”

There was a clap of thunder.

“It was so sunny when we came—”

“Aye, the angels ‘ll be havin’ a pee
now.”

As they ran for the trolley Jorie couldn’t
get over what a nice home Helena had. But how had she come by
it?

He first met Kaarina at the little book
store, where she was an assistant clerk. Often in the late
afternoon, after he’d awakened, Jorie would go for a walk, or
peruse a book in this cozy warren, where a comfortable chair rested
near the fire. He’d been reading about the creation of national
parks, and had asked the young woman if she had anything else on
this subject. He found reasons to return and engage her in further
conversation. She was a Finnish girl, but he refused to let that
deter him.

She got off work at six, and he’d wanted to
ask her out for some time. But he wasn’t accustomed to conversing
with young females. Would he be able to keep up his end of a
conversation?

Nevertheless, one day he summoned up the
courage to invite her to go for a walk. It was tea time, and he was
embarrassed that he had no pocket money. So after a pleasant hour,
he bid her good-bye, promising to see her again.

The next payday he kept a little more money
for himself. His mother stared down at the sum.

“I can’t save anything for your future
education on this, Jorie.”

He wondered if she were saving anything,
anyway.

“I need some for myself.”

He could see she tried to keep it light.
“What are you up to?”

“I’ve met a girl. I’d like to take her
out.”

“At seventeen? Oh, Jorie.” She rubbed his
chin. “Barely a whisker, you’re still a baby.”

He jerked away from her. “I thought I was
the man of the family, bread-winner and such, didn’t you say? But
when it’s convenient for you, I’m a baby!”

She bristled. “Well, we can’t afford for you
to be courting yet. That’s the truth. Some day when you get a
by-line at the paper—”

“I’ve a right to keep some of my own
paycheck.”

She was quiet. “As you wish. Of course, it’s
all yours, Darling.”

Since he could find no way to feel good with
whatever choice he made, he kept some of the money.

Kaarina agreed to go with him to tea on
Thursday. All week Jorie waited impatiently. He remembered her
sweet mouth, the way it moved in the most pleasing manner when she
spoke. He wondered what it would be like to kiss. He thought it odd
that he knew so much about female bodies but had never actually
kissed one. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he had that
opportunity.

At about five o’clock he went to the book
store and waited for her to get off work. He tried to read, but
found himself forever glancing between the clock and her lovely
face.

At six o’clock they walked down the road to
the Richmond Tea Room, a modest, but cozy English establishment. He
had never been inside, but from the street he thought it looked
just the place to take a young lady. To his delight they were
seated on a brocade settee near the back of the room. A low table
awaited refreshments.

Although he’d noticed girls before, it was
the first time he’d been so close to one. He thought it heavenly.
He drank up her shy smiles, barely aware of the scone with clotted
cream he was consuming.

Suddenly Kaarina’s finger was grazing his
chin. He jumped.

“Just a bit of cream,” she smiled, wiping it
off.

The feel of her finger on his chin and the
scent of her hand swept through his senses, transporting him to one
of the happiest moments he could remember. Long after the scones
were finished, they sat and talked. He confided to her his dream of
returning to the University; she told him of saving money to go to
Suomi, the new Finnish College.

But under all the words, a strong feeling
stirred in Jorie. Was he falling in love? Not having any experience
with girls his age, he could only hope her smiles meant she felt
the same.

Finally, the mistress of the tea room
informed them it was closing time. As they sauntered down the
street, he reached to take her hand, and she allowed him.

“Where do you live?”

She told him, and he walked her home. Slowly, in the
warm summer evening they ambled past children rolling hoops and
playing kick-the-can. Grown-ups, too, were out enjoying the all too
short warm season. They lingered along the way, taking in the
evening song of the birds and the bouquet of flowering lilacs. He
broke off a small blossom from a branch overhanging the walk, and
placed it in her hair. It soon fell to the ground but she quickly
retrieved it, and for the rest of their walk twirled it in her
hand, taking in its fragrance from time to time.

As they neared her home he couldn’t decide
whether to try to kiss her or not. He was so afraid she wouldn’t
let him that he decided to savor the sweet flavor of the success
he’d had so far, and let the kiss wait for another time.

“Minum kaveri,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

She smiled shyly. “It means ‘Goodnight, my
friend.”

He practically ran home, jumping off the
ground a few times. “Minum kaveri,” he repeated over and over.

It was nine o’clock. On the dining room
table, he could see candles in their silver holders burning down to
stubs. He’d forgotten all about the Thursday musicale.

He stood there a moment while familiar
feelings of guilt overcame him. It was so still he thought his
mother must have gone up to bed, but suddenly she appeared from the
parlor in her dressing gown. He braced himself for the
confrontation.

Instead she said softly, “Did you have a
nice evening?”

He wasn’t sure he could trust her tone.
“Yes. I’m sorry about tonight. I forgot.”

“Are you hungry? There’s chicken. I’ve saved
you the bosom—your favorite.”

“No, thank you.”

“Let’s at least have some wine together.
Will you join me?”

She picked up the half empty decanter. After
not showing up, how could he refuse? She held up the glasses for
him to pour, and led the way to the parlor.

He lit a lamp. “I’m very sorry I missed
dinner. It smells wonderful.”

“No doubt you were having a wonderful dinner
with someone else.”

“Just tea and scones.”

“Tell me about her. Is she beautiful and
talented? I allow she’s young, of course.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She’d have to be, and you so handsome. What
else?” She smiled up at him.

“She’s very nice.”

“Surely you can come up with a more
descriptive term than ‘nice’,” she sneered. “You must have written
a ‘woeful ballad to your mistress’s eyebrow’ by now.” She laughed
lewdly, then furrowed her brow. “Was that Keats? No, it was
Shakespeare.”

He was at a loss for words. Some he’d save
for his own reverie, but did not care to share with her. “She has
brown hair. She’s rather tall.”

“And how do you feel about her?”

It just slipped out. “Enraptured.”

“Enraptured! By a plain tall girl with brown
hair!” She lurched towards him, but quickly righted herself.

He wished he’d told her nothing. Then he
smelled it. She was deep into her cups.

“I shouldn’t have said that. We are all
equal in God’s eyes. What’s her name?”

He’d been dreading this. “Kaarina
Pakkala.”

“A Finn!”

“Yes.”