Mother Lode (37 page)

Jorie was looking for his old rocking horse.
In the storage corner, cobwebs and coal dust covered everything —
an old wicker perambulator, now partially eaten by the mice, a
barrel of Christmas decorations, bruised lampshades and a broken
looking glass. He started moving boxes, crates, and sheets from the
mysteries they concealed.

The rocking horse was hiding under an old
quilt. He pulled it from its covering, and as he gently moved it
back and forth, he recalled his boyish fantasy of riding across the
sky until he’d overcome the monster.

He ran his hand over the smooth saddle. How
polished it had become from all its rides. He noted the many chips
in the paint, even on the left eye, giving it a strange blinded
appearance. He hadn’t noticed any of this as a child.

As he was leaving with it, his foot caught
on a wooden crate. Something about the sound caused him to
investigate. Inside, he found his mother’s china. Next to it were
three more crates, each containing more members of the set.

“
I sold the china to get the player
piano.”

Jorie stood in the cellar, trying to piece
the information together. It didn’t make sense.

That evening he asked Catherine about
it.

“I
was
going to sell the china, and I
had it all crated up, but when the player piano was delivered, and
the man saw our old piano, he said he’d take that instead. He was
taken by the rosewood cabinet, you see, and he gave me a bit of
money besides.”

He waited for her to continue.

“I knew you might be disappointed that our
old piano was gone, so I didn’t want to mention it right away,
before you’d even heard the new one. That’s all.”

“But why did you cart the china all the way
down to the cellar?”

“I told you, I already had it all crated up
to sell, and we really don’t need it.” She stopped suddenly.
“Jorie, I’ll not be questioned by you!”

He was silent, but not satisfied.

Since Eliza had chosen a color scheme of
yellow and peach he decided to paint the horse with the same
colors. As he sanded the worn wood, he thought of his father
toiling to plan and build it from scratch. He wondered if it gave
him the same satisfaction he was getting now by fixing it up for
his little sister.

On the morning of her birthday, Jorie
unveiled his gift to her. He winced when he realized that she
probably wasn’t really big enough for it, but he might be gone by
next year, so this was the time for it.

“Rock me, Jawie, rock me!”

Her joy and cascades of laughter made it all
worthwhile, made his sentence to this house bearable for a
time.

“What’s his name, Jawie?”

“Pegasus.”

“
Peggythis.”

“Kaarina, John Muir is
coming here. I’m going to go, and write up a report for the
News
. Will you come with
me, Friday evening?”

All week Jorie was eager for Friday night.
Two wonderful things on the same evening – hearing the famous John
Muir and being with his girl.

As they entered the auditorium, he felt a
hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the sheriff grinning at
him.

“Didn’t know you were interested in national
parks, Jorie. Or are you here to cover the speech for the
newspaper?”

“Both, actually.”

They jostled their way in and the three of
them sat together. Jorie introduced the sheriff to Kaarina.

“If I didn’t have my heart set on going back
to Ann Arbor, I’d sure like to go out west and join John Muir,” he
told them both.

“I had a similar dream once—of going out
west,” the sheriff confessed.

Jorie glanced quickly at Mr. Foster. He
thought the curtain had been parted on his life —but just as
quickly it closed.

“You have a lot of talent he could use— your
knowledge of biology, skills in drawing and writing. That would be
a great career for you.”

“Maybe after I’ve finished my schooling.” He
took in and let out a deep breath. “It’s a dream, anyway.”

After Mr. Muir’s impassioned speech there
was such a round of applause Jorie started a standing ovation. Then
he nodded good-bye to the sheriff, grabbed Kaarina by the hand, and
strode toward the podium, where Mr. Muir was entertaining
questions.

When it was his turn, he told John Muir flat
out that he was a reporter, but also he would like nothing better
than to follow in his footsteps.

“There’s always room for young men with your
enthusiasm.

As he walked Kaarina home, he said, “I think
when I’ve finished my education, I’ll join Mr. Muir out west. By
golly, I think I will.”

He grabbed Kaarina and pulled her to
him.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.
He was thinking how he’d like to ask her to go to the University
with him, or out west, or anywhere at all they both would like to
be. But it was too soon to say any of these things out loud.

He turned to her. “What about you? Are you
making any headway in your savings toward Suomi?”

“A little. Dreams can change along the way
though.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining in the darkness.
“But we should always have at least one, don’t you think?”

He squeezed her hand. In the shadow of her
side porch, he held her close to him, aware of the pleasant way her
body shaped itself next to his. Finally, he kissed her good-night,
and raced home, excited about everything.

Life was good, after all.

The next day his mother hinted that it was
her birthday. For the first time ever he’d forgotten. Late that
afternoon Jorie walked along the wooden sidewalk of Quincy Street
where the nice shops were and looked in the jewelry stores. He
didn’t have a lot to spend, and was surprised by how much
everything cost. But he knew she’d felt badly about losing an
emerald earring that matched her green outfits. He found a
beautiful pair in Diemel’s Jewelers.

“These are emeralds, but if that’s too rich
for your budget, I have something similar in glass.”

Although the design was somewhat different,
he couldn’t tell the difference between them. Still, he wouldn’t
want to tell his mother they were glass, and he wouldn’t want to
lie, either.

“If you like, I can arrange a payment
plan.”

“Then I’ll take the emeralds.”

“Good choice.”

It was a beautiful summer day, one so
perfect, that in this land, folks savored such days, spending as
much time outside as possible. He was whistling — happy with the
gift he’d bought, savoring the mellifluous times with Kaarina, and
beginning to feel that life was bearable even in the copper
country. He didn’t know if he’d ever get away, but for now it was
all right, and he had the satisfaction of knowing he was doing
something for his family. Maybe Kaarina was right — dreams can
change. He wondered if she were hinting that hers had, and she
might be willing to follow him.

Just then a familiar laugh caught his
attention. Across the street he saw a woman on the arm of a man
coming out of the Northwestern Hotel. He strained to make sure who
it was, and who she was with. He stayed on his side of the street,
following them for two blocks. Then the man hailed a cab. As they
stood facing the street, Jorie knew. It was his mother, with Mr.
Markel, the undertaker!

He ran the rest of the way home in
confusion. Why was she seeing this man? Why hadn’t she told him?
And what were they doing in a hotel?

She was home before he was, already
preparing dinner. When he walked in she greeted him pleasantly.

He asked, “How did you spend your
birthday?”

“Much like any other day. I was looking
forward to having a nice dinner with you, Dear.”

“Wasn’t the company of Mr. Markel enough for
you?” It just came out.

She stopped stirring the pudding.

“I saw you, coming out of the
Northwestern.”

She gave him a big, innocent smile. “Mr.
Markel invited me for lunch. I thought this might be a good day to
take him up on it.”

“Then why did you lie?”

“I didn’t!”

“You said you spent today much like any
other. Do you see him every day at this ‘most commodious hotel’, as
you call it?”

“Jorie!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t your business. What are you doing
— going around town spying on me?”

“No. I was only there because you reminded
me it was your birthday. I was buying your birthday present if you
must know. Here!” He threw the box at her.

“Good Heavens!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you
intimate with this man?”

“Let go of me!”

She pulled away from him, rubbing her arm.
He realized suddenly what he was doing and raced upstairs. Some
weeks before he’d installed a hook and eye on his door, presumably
to keep Eliza out when he was sleeping. He used it now and threw
himself on the bed.

All of her teachings about
honesty came ghost-like to ridicule him for being so naive. What of
the
Golden Bubble
now, the sanctity of their relationship built on absolute
trust and honesty? It all seemed a charade. With sudden clarity he
saw that sacrifice for her wasn’t holy at all, but simply an
indulgence of her selfish whims.

Feelings of intense jealousy and rage filled
him. Why had he stayed home, given up his own life to please her,
if all the time her interests lay elsewhere? But why did he care?
He knew those were the feelings of a jealous lover, and he had a
romance of his own.

He tried to get the picture of his mother in
the arms of Mr. Markel out of his mind, but it kept coming back.
Maybe they weren’t having that kind of relationship, but then what
were they doing in the hotel? She’d said lunch, but it was almost
four o’clock when they came out.

Realizing how inappropriate his rage and
jealousy were he was filled once more with self-loathing. He
thought since he’d been seeing Kaarina that he’d gotten over his
feelings toward his mother. He hated her for showing him he had
not. Why had she hinted for the damn present! He wished he’d never
gone downtown.

Three times she came upstairs and knocked on
the door, but he would not let her in. When he rose to go to work,
she called to him, but he grabbed his jacket and left.

In the morning when he returned, she was
waiting for him in the kitchen.

“Jorie, you can’t go on like this.”

He stood at the window, watching a cardinal
coaxing her little ones to leave the nest.

“Will you look at me?”

“I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday.”

“Yes, you should be.”

“I wish I’d saved my money.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

He turned to her. “Well,
it didn’t turn out well, did it? Pity you reminded me about your
birthday — I could still be ignorant of your
amours
.”

“Jorie, it’s time you knew, I suppose, that
Mr. Markel intends me to be his wife.”

“You’re going to marry him?”

Jorie’s head spun with this new
information.

She made her face take on the look of a
girlish blush. “He’s asked me to,” she confided.

“Are you going to?”

“I suppose it would solve a lot of
problems,” she sighed. “He is not without means.”

A hodgepodge of feelings rushed through
him.

“Yes,” she continued. “I suppose you could
say we are engaged.”

“When is the wedding?”

“I haven’t given him a date. Don’t rush me,
Jorie.”

When he left for Kaarina’s that evening, he
decided he no longer need feel duty-bound to stay and support his
mother. She was going to be married! Suddenly he felt as though the
prison door had been unlocked. He was free, and it was time to get
on with his own life.

With a lighter step he jogged the rest of
the way to Kaarina’s.

Three weeks after the subject had first come
up, Kaarina and Jorie were bound for their first dance. There had
been no place of privacy for him to teach her any steps, but the
pleasure of holding his sweetheart would make up for all of their
awkwardness on the dance floor.

“I’m sure a caller will give instructions
for the reels. Let’s just go.”

He whirled her around the room to waltzes,
and tried to keep up with the cotillion. As they sipped on
lemonade, the announcer was telling them to ready up for the
‘Tri-mountain Two-Step’. Jorie’d never seen Kaarina so happy.

Stepping and stomping around the room,
suddenly Jorie was face to face with Mr. Markel, who didn’t appear
to recognize him. Jorie caught his breath and looked for his
mother. But it was another woman whose hand he was holding. For the
next half hour, his eyes searched everywhere for Catherine, but
always he saw Mr. Markel with the same woman.

Although he continued to enjoy holding and
dancing with Kaarina, he was troubled now. Ma was expecting to
marry this man, and here he was, in a public dance hall with
another woman!

He felt a constriction in his throat. The
road to freedom was disappearing in the dust of the dance
floor.

Should he tell her?

“You went
where
?” Catherine
bellowed.

“To the dance hall.”

“You took that
person
to the dance hall?”

“Ma, I’m trying to tell you I saw Mr. Markel
there with another woman. I thought you should know.”

“I instruct you in the art
of dancing, so we might have a bit of pleasure together in our own
home, and you take my gift to go off cavorting with
her!
”

“I appreciate the lessons, but I have a
right — “

Her voice was rising to a roar. “You
deceived me! I gave you—”