Cold Determination

by Jennifer Lyons

  The doorknob turned, and I quickly dropped the books back where I found them. Miss Kate hurried in and locked the door behind her. “He’s getting meaner, I swear. He forgets things and hits more than he used to. He was always a bad man, but I swear I can hardly be around anymore! His business is failing, and I dunno what we are all going to do if he goes under. I’m gunna have to talk with Pearl; you know her? Up the street? Everyone likes her, and I think her beds are nicer and rooms bigger than here anyways,” Miss Kate talked the whole time she crossed the small room to her bed and sat on it. She patted the space next to her. “Sit here, hun, and tell me why you’re here.”

  Now, I had never been alone in any room with any woman before this. I followed her direction, though, and tried to act natural as I sat far away from her on that old bed. It sank under my weight causing her to lean towards me. I put my hands in my lap and looked to the floor. Miss Kate seemed to change tune, just then and she moved closer to me, rubbing my arm with both her hands.

  “Why did you come, Jurak? Ya miss me? I always knew you liked me more than you said.” Her voice was soft and flirty, and I couldn’t answer. I reached out to one of those pretty legs and rubbed as high as I dared, just above her knee. She tilted her face up to mine, looked in my eyes, and kissed my mouth; we never broke eye contact, and I was breathing hard.

  I put my arms around her small shoulders and pulled myself close into her. She wrapped her legs around my waist and let me lean over her on that bed.

  It didn’t last long, but I was in heaven and completely spent after. She lay there holding my hand. “See? I knew you liked me.”

  It was then, laying there on her bed, her head resting on my shoulder, I remembered why I had come here that day. “I do like you, Miss Kate. I always did.” I wasn’t shy anymore. “I know you can help me too. There’s a girl, Clara. I really like her and I want to do something nice for her.”

  Miss Kate laughed quietly. “I’m guessin’ she’s not ready for what we just did, is she?”

  I thought about what she said, “I don’t think we are ready for that, no.”

  She laughed at my earnestness, “You remember your teeth? When you lost ’em and were so upset, you thought you were a man? Well, you’re a man now, but I can’t expect you to know how to treat a girl proper just yet. Tell me about this girl, and I can tell you what to do.”

  So, I told her all about Clara, how short she was and how beautiful she was, how she was smart and seemed to like the outdoors as much as I did. I told her she worked at Smith’s and that she got good grades. Miss Kate never interrupted and just listened until I finished.

  She sighed after, the saddest sigh I think I had ever heard. “She sounds real nice, Jurak, real nice. If I had a nice young man, someone as nice as you, I’d want to know. Have ya told her yet?” I shook my head even though I knew Miss Kate couldn’t see me, but she felt it. “That’s what I thought. Ya need to tell her, Jurak. What good is love if you don’t share it? You get her some flowers from your mama’s garden and take her for a walk. Take her somewhere pretty, the prettiest spot you know. Then, just tell her what ya told me. I think you’ll do just fine.”

  It was a simple plan, and I liked it. Miss Kate had been the right one to talk to. “Ya gotta go? Anything you want before ya leave?” Her voice was soft and in my ear. The second time was better.

  Afterwards, I left walking down the hallway a bit taller. I was glad I had gone to see Miss Kate.

  The simple plan she devised turned out to be difficult. It took me a whole week and three bunches of flowers, before I could meet up with Clara. Something held me back and I visited Miss Kate one more time before I felt brave enough to approach Clara.

  She was just finishing up work when I walked in with the flowers. She seemed surprised to see me but pleased as well and she gladly took the flowers.

  “Did you get these from your mama’s garden, Jurak? They’re beautiful.” She held them close to her nose taking in their sweet fragrance.

  “I was just going for a walk, will you come with me?” I asked hopefully through a tight throat. She looked up into my eyes and smiled, walking to my right as we ambled down the road.

  We were quiet for a time—the flowers made us both shy. One of the best things about Clara was the fact she didn’t have to talk all the time; she was content to just take in the world around her and quietly contemplate life. We walked out of town, towards the creek, the prettiest spot I knew.

  We sat side by side on the bank and watched day turn to dusk. “Clara, you’re the nicest girl I know. You’re smart, you’re funny, and I think you are the prettiest person I ever saw.” It wasn’t eloquent and it all came out in a rush, but I was sincere, and she knew it.

  She grinned. “Jurak, are you telling me you like me?” I nodded. She took my hand then and we watched the sun sink lower into the sky. She kept smiling and I knew I was too. I led her back to town and there, in front of Smith’s, I leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. She gasped and looked around.

  “Careful, someone might see us!” I could tell she liked it, though, and I wasn’t too worried about who might see us. She kissed me back, quickly. “See you tomorrow, Jurak,” she said and walked away, holding the flowers close to her chest.

  I was walking on clouds that night and even stopped by our garden to pick a flower for our own dinner table. Mama took one look at me and knew something was up. “Something is up, Jurak, tell me what it is. All week you have been a little different.”

  Peter looked closely at me and grinned. I had told him all about Miss Kate the day it happened. Mama wasn’t talking about that, though. She was talking about today and the change she saw in me now. I wasn’t ready to tell her about Clara just yet, though.

  I gave her the flower I picked, and she thanked me by reminding me to wash up for dinner. Nils came in and we washed next to each other. Mama put dinner on the table and we all sat down. I looked around our family and felt life would never be better.

  A few days went by, and I didn’t see Clara at all. I got busy and she was busy; it was bound to happen but it still saddened me. After school, I let Peter run ahead to our trapping line and I stopped by Smith’s. Victoria was there, but I couldn’t see Clara. Victoria came out the door.

  “She’s sick, real sick, Jurak.” Her voice was pinched, afraid and I felt that pinching feeling deep in my stomach that I had almost forgotten. She didn’t wait for me to answer, just went back into the shop, leaving me wondering what was making Clara so sick.

  I went out to our trapping line but my heart wasn’t in it, and Peter just sent me to the creek telling me I was better at fishing anyways. It was true, I was good at fishing. Even when I was sad, I was good at fishing and it was no different today. By the time Peter caught up to me, I had caught enough for our dinner and enough for Aunt Anya’s family too.

  Peter asked me about Clara on our walk back to town but there wasn’t too much to tell. I didn’t know why she was sick. Peter tried cheering me up all the way back reminding me of Miss Kate, but I felt far away and didn’t pay too much attention to my brother. We dropped Aunt Anya’s share of fish off with their family and headed home.

  Mama was happy to have the fish, as usual and while she finished dinner, I told her all about Clara. Mama never interrupted but her eyes grew serious when I mentioned she was sick. Mama took sicknesses very seriously, and I could tell she was as worried as I was.

  A few days went by and I didn’t see Victoria or Clara when I walked by Smith’s. I had no idea what happened to them and the one time I asked the guy behind the counter, he just shrugged. A whole week went by before we heard about the sisters.

  Clara’s father had caught the flu a few weeks before, and of course, everyone in their family had fallen ill because of the illness. Victoria was the last to get it, right after I had seen her. Both girls ran high fevers and instead of recovering after a few days as their father had, they grew worse.

  Both girls died the same afternoon a w
eek after Clara had fallen ill. By the time I heard the news, Clara was already buried.

  Peter and I walked home, heads down, in complete silence. There was nothing to say.

  Graduation

  When I learned about Clara, life stopped for a little while, as with any loss it does. At first, each day knowing she was gone was empty but the days kept coming and eventually filled up. I kept learning and fishing, but a part of my life stopped. I didn’t seek out any other girl; I didn’t visit Miss Kate anymore. Peter was the opposite.

  Peter and I had always been different as most brothers are. I was tall, he was short. He was incredibly good at school and learning. It took me a while to catch on. My hair was like Mama’s, dark and curly. Peter’s was lighter. Peter was fun, I was more serious. We approached the loss of our girls in very different manners.

  Unlike me, life didn’t stop for Peter. Instead of shying away from girls, he warmed up to them more than ever and he acquired quite the reputation. Mama admonished him, Nils tried to guide him, but Peter never did listen. Every Saturday, Peter was out late and one weekend, a month or so after Clara, he invited me.

  I spent most days with my brother trapping and fishing, but I had never spent a Saturday night with him. Though Peter and I shared many friends, I didn’t know most of his weekend crowd well. They were rougher than my friends, always wanting to have a good time and most of them didn’t have jobs.

  There were around fifteen boys and girls that met, unofficially, outside a saloon at the edge of town. That saloon was known for questionable activity. All were welcome, no matter the class, no matter the color, no matter the language they spoke, all were welcome. Unless they were Indian. No Native Americans were allowed inside, but the entrance was always crowded with Indians hoping for a drink. Peter led us inside and we sat at a couple of tables and someone brought out some cards.

  I was excited to try my hand at what I was sure to be a winning night. The night did not start out well. I was a novice to drinking having only had a couple of drinks here and there, but Peter was an expert. Before we even began the game, he threw back two shots and laughed loudly, winking at a girl who I think they called Bella.

  Bella was not known as a nice girl, though everyone in her group liked her. She was the only daughter of one of the black workers from downtown. She was brown, curvy, and strong. I believed her when she told me she would move to New York City. No matter what that girl did, she was good at it, and I was sure singing in New York City would be no different. That night, I learned she was good at singing, drinking, and winning any card game. After only thirty minutes, my pockets were empty, and I had nothing to show for my Saturday night. I was so broke, I couldn’t even buy my own drink. I was left waiting for my brother the rest of the night. We didn’t get home until nearly 3 a.m.

  Mama didn’t believe in letting us sleep in—Sundays were for church, no matter and most probably in spite of, coming in so late. Peter followed us all the way to the church, eyes down, shoulders slumped. He stopped twice, heaving last night’s fun into various gardens. Mama kept her shoulders squared and eyes forward, firmly ignoring his state.

  Bella and Peter enjoyed each other last night, that much I knew. After she took my money at cards, she took my brother out to the back. I truly didn’t mind. After all, fun was fun, but Peter was acting strange this morning. Something other than a bad hangover was bothering him.

  His gait was awkward and when we sat at our usual seat, he couldn’t keep still. I noticed Nils paid special attention to him. Finally, and thankfully, without a word, Nils got up and led him away. Mama’s mouth thinned but she never spoke a word. We walked home, and she made us lunch.

  “What did you boys get up to last night? Drinking? Girls?”

  “Yes,” I answered honestly, not sure how to talk to my mother about last night. Peter always went out Saturday nights, so I wasn’t sure what Mama knew or guessed about his activities.

  She just shook her head and talked about her garden. I helped clear the table and brought her a cup of tea. It made her happy, I could tell. She patted my cheek and thanked me.

  Peter and Nils came home soon after, Mama told Peter dinner was over, but she made Nils a plate. Peter and I went outside and walked down to the creek. He grinned, chagrined.

  “What happened to you?” Witnessing his discomfort during service had piqued my curiosity. I knew something was wrong but had no idea what plagued my brother.

  “Well, Nils took me to see Doc Brown. Thank God for Nils, Jurak. He knew what was wrong. I never had to ask for help, but it was the worst itching I ever had. He knew what to do and you know Nils, he didn’t ask too many questions.” I didn’t ask any more questions either. Peter never got with Bella again.

  I went out with Peter every Saturday after that. Even though I was the younger brother, I watched over and helped him home each night. Each Sunday morning, I got him up and dressed. Peter just liked having a good time, and I wasn’t too shabby at it either. The rest of the school year passed, and Peter graduated from high school despite all our fun, the trapping line, and all our fishing.

  It was strange after that. Peter worked a few jobs around town. Nils had a couple of friends who farmed, and Peter helped hay all that fall. He kept up our trapping line, and I found myself on my own more than ever before.

  It was around June we began really hearing about Europe. Mama was especially interested in that news as she still had family in Austria and Poland who had already suffered through the First World War. After she worried about her family so far away, she turned her attentions to us, her sons. She repeatedly told Nils she hadn’t raised us to die. Nils listened, patient as always, but the world was what it was—he couldn’t stop her from worrying. Nils couldn’t prevent war.

  Just like the rest of the country, Sheridan wasn’t for the war. Most people were just trying to survive from meager paycheck to meager paycheck, keeping their large families fed. War in Europe was far away and not as threatening as starving. No one wanted war.

  We got through fall, and 1941 dawned. I was up for graduation, ready to leave school behind. I had no idea what I was going to do but I knew I was done with that classroom setting. I was a young man raring to make my life and fortune, and 1941 was the year to do it.

  Graduation was a simple affair, but Mama made a fuss. She made a little cake to celebrate and Aunt Anya’s family came by. Uncle Antonin offered me a job. He said the coalmine was always looking for strong young men to clear away rubble. I wasn’t too sure about mining deep in the earth but clearing away rubble sounded safe. I thanked him, and the small party broke up soon after.

  Peter and I walked down to the creek, poles in hands, hoping for a good catch. Looking out over the water, I felt that pinching feeling once more, deep inside my stomach. One chapter of my life was done; there was no going back, and I felt a tremendous sense of loss. I knew it would pass with time and my new life would make sense soon enough. I had no idea where I was headed or where life would lead me, but I felt ready.

  Training

  That summer was the best. Peter got me work right alongside him. Half the summer we worked cattle and the other we worked horses. The horses belonged to a Scotch family who bred world-renowned polo and military horses. I enjoyed working the horses best of the two jobs. I found the cattle work mundane. Cows were slow, stupid, and big, but the work paid well and gave me a place to live the whole summer.

  We still fished and ran our trapping line. We were too busy to go everyday but every weekend we were, went back to our favorite haunts, back to what we did best. We stayed at home Friday night through Sunday and ate Mama’s good food. We followed her to church and helped Nils around the house. Mama’s flowerbeds yielded the best flowers in town. She was generous with her colorful crop and every neighbor had cuttings growing in their own yards that started from her humble beginnings.

  The summer went too fast and as fall approached, the world waited to see how the United States would respond to the war i
n Europe. Hitler was taking over Europe and, in our house, this was discussed nearly every day, even without new news.

  Mama discussed the events, daily, in a frantic mix of language with Aunt Anya. They wondered how their siblings, cousins, and parents were holding up under Nazi rule. Mama prayed as she went about her daily tasks non-stop. Her brother had been killed during the first year of the Great War, and she despaired over the idea her family would face more war desperation.

  I felt closer, somehow, to her homeland, than ever before. She raised Peter and me with her traditions and language. We knew all her childhood stories by heart. I could picture her homeland more clearly than ever before.

  The village was old, with cobbled streets I could almost feel under my feet as she spoke. I could see the neat town square and small, beloved homes lining the streets. It scared me how close something so far away was becoming in my mind.

  As summer turned to fall, the European situation worsened. It was 1941, and Europe raged with war that no one except Germany had desired. Hitler invaded Poland and Czechoslovakia with no apparent resistance. His attempts to conquer France were one step too far, though, and the crisis of war had rapidly unfolded, quickly escalating to a point of no return. The United States resisted strong European urges to aid or join in the fight.

  I was swept up in the emotion of watching it all unfold. I knew my place in the world and strongly desired Hitler would be stopped, however, I did not desire to fight. I knew how my uncle had died. Mama’s brother had inhaled a poisonous, noxious gas that truly frightened me. When Peter and I were small, Mama expressed gratitude for our humble situation because we, at the very least, we were not surviving ramifications of a war that had taken her brother and nearly starved her cousins. War frightened me. Especially the talk of such widespread death. I could only too clearly see all those people lying in their cold holes in the ground, left lonely in lonely places.