The Trouble with May Amelia

by Jennifer L. Holm

  Oh Buttons! I cry, and I am so happy to see my flea-bitten cat. Buttons just purrs against me and I know she is happy to see me, too.

  Jane says, Your brother Wilbert thought you might be missing her.

  Uncle Aarno invites Jane to stay for supper and he tells tales to amuse us. Like about the time he was out gillnetting and got stuck in a bad storm. It took him a day to tack back and everybody thought he was dead.

  By the time I made it home, my wife had had three proposals of marriage! he tells us.

  Jane gives a knowing chuckle, and says, Three? I have had fifteen proposals since my husband died.

  We stay up late into the night talking and no one mentions my family losing the farm and how I am to blame and how I have ruined everything. For one night I am happy as an old man who has lost his mind because I Forget.

  I beg Uncle Aarno to take me out gillnetting with him.

  It’s dangerous work, he says.

  Not any more dangerous than school, I say. At least Friendly can’t get me out on the river.

  True enough, he agrees.

  We go out at night because high tide is the best time to put in the nets. Most of the gillnetters don’t own their own boats and work for the packing companies, but Uncle Aarno used the money that Grandmother Patience left him to buy his. He has a mate, a young Finn man fresh from Kaustinen named Tuuni, who is full of energy. I help the men set the nets in and then we drift waiting for the silly salmon to swim into them and get caught on their gills.

  The boat bobs on the water in the darkness. We eat our dinner and watch the stars. I pretend that Wilbert is looking at the same stars as me.

  Soon it is time to start hauling in our catch. It is hard work indeed for the nets are heavy and long. Uncle Aarno tells me his are two hundred feet. By morning, our boat is full of salmon and I am plumb exhausted.

  Tuuni says in an admiring voice, May Amelia, you’d make a good gillnetter. You work harder than any boy I’ve met.

  That’s ‘cause I’m a girl, I say.

  Uncle Aarno takes me with him to Astoria when he goes to fetch the mail, so that I can visit Mamma at the cannery. As we sail over, I think of the last time I was here with Wilbert getting a dead hand for Ivan. It seems strange to think that that was such a happy time, but it was. I was with my Best Brother.

  Uncle Aarno says, Meet me at the boat at supper-time and then he disappears in the press of fishermen.

  I just stand there. I can’t make my own two feet move. I know I should go see Mamma at the cannery, but I can’t bear to see her working there knowing it’s my fault.

  May! a voice calls.

  And there’s Berle across the crowd. He fights his way over to me and I’ve never been so happy to see his droopy eye.

  What are you doing here? I ask him.

  Delivering laundry, he says, holding out a bag. Mamma’s taking in washing.

  But I thought your daddy got a job at the cranberry bogs?

  He shakes his head. No jobs to be had. We’re staying with my grandmother here in Astoria and Daddy’s trying to get work on boats when he can.

  Oh.

  How’s Nasel? he asks.

  The same, I say.

  I miss the schoolhouse, Berle says.

  I thought you didn’t like learning? I ask.

  I don’t, he says, and smiles his lopsided grin. But I liked everything else.

  The cannery where Mamma works is a few doors down from the one where Otto’s mother works. But I when I reach it, I just stand there, frozen. I can’t bring myself to open the door and see my tidy mother who doesn’t allow a spider to leave a web in a corner standing up to her ankles in fish guts.

  Finally, I force myself to walk in. Tears start leaking down my cheeks the moment I see Mamma.

  Mamma just smiles at me and says, Now what are those tears for?

  It’s my fault you’re here! I say.

  It’s not your fault, she says, and gives a wry look. Besides, it’s not so bad. Birthing babies is a lot messier than this.

  A whistle sounds and Mamma says, Come on. It’s my lunch break.

  We sit on the back porch and I look at her. She seems almost comfortable here with Chinamen milling around her, smoking cigarettes.

  Has it been hard for you to live in such a Wicked Place? I ask her.

  It’s not as Wicked as I thought, Mamma says. It’s just Different.

  But what about the bawdy houses and saloons? I ask.

  Well, it is a little wicked, she amends. Everybody’s got to make a living, I suppose.

  Then Mamma brightens. Here comes my lunch now, she says.

  And there is Otto coming down the alley balancing on his shoulders a contraption that’s holding tin lunch pails.

  Hello Otto, Mamma says in English.

  You know my friend Otto? I gasp.

  He delivers the best soup in town, Mamma says to me with a smile.

  Otto winks at me. I’ve been keeping an eye on her for you.

  Thanks, I say.

  Mamma has to return to work, so Otto and me head over to Mariah’s Tavern. Mariah groans when she sees me.

  I hope you don’t need another hand, Mariah says, flipping her braid over her shoulder. Because I am fresh out.

  How about a fritter instead? I ask.

  That I can do, she says.

  We sit in Mariah’s warm kitchen and eat the fresh fritters. I tell Otto what happened with Mr. Yerrington.

  He sounded like a bad man, Otto says.

  But how did you know? I ask Otto. Are there a lot of bad men in China?

  You don’t have to go to China to find bad men, Otto says. There are plenty right here in Astoria.

  And one or two of them are missing a hand, Mariah says with a knowing look.

  * * *

  The sun is starting to sink and it’s time to go back to Uncle Aarno’s boat. Otto walks with me. We’re going down a busy street to the docks when I see him.

  He’s walking straight toward us and he looks thinner than the last time I saw him. There’s a packet of letters in his hand and I don’t need to read them to know what they say. He walks right by me, like I am not even there, like I am a ghost. My father passes so close that for a moment I can smell his tobacco.

  Now I know why the ghosts howl and haunt the tidelands. It’s not because they want to scare you or steal your soul.

  They just want to be Seen.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hukkareissu

  It’s a cold wet day when Kaarlo shows up at Uncle Aarno’s front door. His face looks gray.

  You have to come home now, he says, his voice tired.

  My heart leaps. Pappa’s not angry at me anymore?

  His mouth twists and he says, Pappa’s not there.

  And all I can think of is poor Mr. Petersen.

  He Killed Himself? I whisper.

  Kaarlo says, No, May Amelia. He took a job at the logging camp, full-time. Pappa doesn’t even know I’m here. He and Isaiah and Alvin and Wilbert are all working up there now.

  Wilbert? I ask, surprised.

  They hired him on as whistle punk. Gave everyone room and board. It makes sense, less mouths to feed.

  Oh, I say.

  Then Kaarlo runs a frustrated hand through his dirty hair, and asks, Will you come?

  I nod.

  Uncle Aarno helps me pack and then carries my bag to the porch. Kaarlo is waiting at the bottom of the steps, pacing back and forth like an angry cougar. I hesitate. Suddenly, I’m not so sure about leaving this quiet house and my kind uncle.

  You’re always welcome here, May Amelia, Uncle Aarno says.

  Thank you, I say, and hug him hard.

  He leans down and whispers in my ear. You’re a good girl. Don’t forget it.

  I won’t, I whisper back.

  I’ll be by in a few days to check in on you, he says, straightening. And be sure to take your cat.

  I don’t think Buttons will like being in a boat, I say.

  Bet
ter in the boat, than in the water, he says, laughing.

  Kaarlo rows down the Nasel toward home, and I can’t believe how much I have missed everything. I’ve missed the boys and the fighting and I have even missed the sharp stink of our farm, the manure-mud-mossy-wet smell that is Home. When we near the bend by our house, I can barely contain my own self. But Kaarlo keeps right on rowing past it, past the Petersen farm even.

  Where are we going? I ask.

  He narrows his eyes at me. The new owner put us out, May Amelia. We’re renting Uncle Niihlo’s place.

  Bosie meets us before we even reach the house.

  Hiya, Bosie, I say, and we go into Uncle Niihlo’s place. I look around.

  The only furniture from our house that’s in it is the kitchen table and two beds shoved together side by side. Filthy dishes are stacked in a bucket, and every corner is thick with spiderwebs. The fire’s burned out and it smells like unwashed boys. It’s cold and damp, and I have never seen a sorrier place in my life.

  Where’s the rest of the furniture? I ask.

  Bank took it, Kaarlo says.

  All at once I miss the warmth of Uncle Aarno’s house. And my bed. And Uncle Aarno.

  The door opens and Lonny runs in and flings himself at me. May! You’re Back!

  I give him a squeeze.

  What do you think of the new place? he asks.

  And there’s no point in lying.

  It’s Terrible, I say.

  It sure is! Lonny agrees.

  The door opens again and this time Wendell comes in, followed by Ivan. But I can’t bring myself to greet them like Lonny. We stand and stare at each other like we’re strangers and not relations.

  I told Kaarlo to fetch you, Wendell says loudly. I told him we needed you.

  But my heart is as cool as the shack. I can’t forget the last time I saw them.

  You needed a cook? I challenge.

  Nope, Ivan says, and holds up his stump. There’s a wooden spoon tied to it. I’ve been doing all the cooking around here.

  He’s not half bad actually, Kaarlo says in a grudging voice.

  Haven’t burned anything yet, Ivan adds.

  Then why? I ask.

  Because you’re like a flea, Wendell explains loudly.

  A flea?

  You’re annoying, Kaarlo says with a slight smile, but it wouldn’t be home without You.

  * * *

  The bank took most of our furniture and tools and equipment.

  They didn’t get my hand, Ivan informs me.

  Good thing, I say, but I don’t ask where he’s put it.

  But there is one other thing besides Ivan’s hand the bank did not get and only because Kaarlo is so clever: our chickens. He hid them away in a little henhouse he built deep in the woods.

  I don’t know how long they’ll last with the cougars, but somebody had to do some thinking around here, he says.

  Uncle Niihlo hasn’t cleared any of the land around the cabin. The boys must cut down the trees and dig up the stumps, so that we can farm when next summer comes. Everybody has a different job. Ivan and Wendell spend their days chopping down trees, and Lonny and me clean the house and do the washing. Ivan does the cooking. He ties a wooden spoon to his stump to stir things. Even Buttons does her part by keeping down the mice.

  Uncle Aarno brings coffee and sugar and flour, but no letters from my brother Matti. Now I know how Pappa felt when he sent all those letters to the president and other Important men he was so sure would help him.

  Wild Cat Clark comes by and gives me twenty-five dollars.

  What’s this for? I ask, and he says in a gruff voice, I caught that cougar on your farm. That’s your half.

  It’s not our farm anymore, I tell him.

  It was your cougar, he says.

  After we are situated better, Kaarlo says that me and Lonny must return to the schoolhouse. Mr. Trebble doesn’t look very happy to see us. I think our teacher would have been better off having babies, because he has no patience for teaching children.

  It’s a cold damp day and we are huddling at our desks doing spelling in wet clothes.

  Who can spell Befuddled? he asks.

  No one raises their hand.

  Mr. Trebble looks right at Charles. Do you know how to spell Befuddled, Charles?

  Charles’s face darkens, and he says, Ei.

  Mr. Trebble walks over and smacks Charles’s hand once with the ruler.

  English! he orders.

  Later, Mr. Trebble goes to the outhouse. Charles leaps up and dashes to our teacher’s desk and grabs up the hated ruler. Then he walks over to the potbelly stove, opens the door, and tosses it inside.

  He won’t be able to find it now, Charles says, and all the children cheer.

  You sure got sisu, Charles, I say in admiration.

  When Mr. Trebble returns and notices the ruler missing, he scowls.

  Who took my ruler? he demands.

  Not one child answers.

  I want the Guilty Party to go up to the board and sign their name, he orders.

  No one stands up.

  Now! he hollers, and smacks his desk, and across the room Charles flinches. Mr. Trebble narrows his eyes.

  Before he can say a word I just leap up and walk to the board and sign my name, my handwriting neat and tidy.

  May Amelia Jackson

  Mr. Trebble smiles in satisfaction and he looks just like Nuutti after he got in a good punch. But his satisfaction turns to confusion a moment later when another child walks up and signs his name, and then another, and another, until every last child in the schoolhouse has signed his name.

  Mr. Trebble’s face reddens in fury. Then he gathers his coat and his books and storms out of the schoolhouse, muttering, I cannot teach such Ignorant Children.

  We all look around at each other.

  Charles grins at me.

  No, he says, You got sisu, May Amelia.

  I tell the boys at supper what happened at the schoolhouse, but no one finds it as funny as me and Lonny. Kaarlo is glum and he picks at his food.

  There’re too many stumps to clear, Wendell says. We need dynamite.

  And flour, Ivan adds.

  Kaarlo looks weary.

  I’ll go to the bank tomorrow to see if they’ll give us a loan to buy supplies, he says finally.

  Then he says, Pappa was at the farm again last night.

  What? I ask.

  The sheriff came by to see me today, Kaarlo says. Says Pappa got drunk and went down there and scared to death the new owners. Shouted that it was his farm. They’re a nice enough couple, too. The sheriff says if Pappa does it again, he’s gonna have to toss him in jail.

  I look around the table. Again? I ask. He’s done it before?

  A few times, Ivan admits.

  The next morning Kaarlo makes the trip to Astoria to go to the bank and it’s late when he finally returns, but no one is asleep. We are all waiting to hear the news.

  Did they give you the money? I ask.

  Hukkareissu, he says in a tired voice, which translates into Unsuccessful Trip, but really means a Waste Of Time.

  Why? Ivan asks.

  The man said the Jackson name is No Good anymore, Kaarlo says.

  Everyone is quiet.

  And then Lonny says, Maybe you should get a new name.

  No eggs for breakfast, Ivan announces the next morning.

  Some animal managed to get into the henhouse and all that’s left of our best laying hens is feathers. But that’s not the end of our bad luck. Kaarlo and the boys work all afternoon trying to chop up a big old stump in the middle of what’s going to be a field, but without dynamite it takes forever. They chop and chop and chop and by the end of the day it looks no different than it did in the morning.

  Hukkareissu! Kaarlo shouts in frustration, flinging his ax.

  Back in the house, Ivan is grumbling.

  How can I cook without eggs? he asks.

  Fine, fine, I say. I’ll scare up some eg
gs.

  I take the rowboat and go to Mr. Clayton’s place. Mrs. Clayton, who I still think of as Miss McEwing, is hanging wash. It is strange to see our teacher doing laundry.

  May Amelia! she says.

  Can I borrow some eggs? I ask.

  Of course, she says. Come inside and have some tea.

  The house is cheery and cozy. It’s everything Uncle Niihlo’s place isn’t. Her treasured books are displayed on a shelf and a warm fire is burning brightly. There’s a good smell in the room.

  Do you like being married? I ask her.

  Yes, very much so, she says.

  That’s a shame, I say. I was hoping it wouldn’t work out so you could come back and teach us.

  I understand Mr. Trebble quit, she says.

  Mr. Trouble, I say. He didn’t like girls.

  But you’re an excellent pupil! she says indignantly. One of the best in the class!

  I’m not, I say. Or we wouldn’t have lost the farm.

  That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, she says.

  It’s the truth.

  She sighs. Your people are very stubborn.

  The Finns? I ask.

  The Jacksons, she says with a wry smile.

  * * *

  Mrs. Clayton gives me a basket of eggs and a pie that Mr. Clayton made with the last of their apples. When I walk in, Kaarlo is sitting at the kitchen table, a dark expression on his face. The other boys are quiet. Everyone seems to be waiting for something.

  Supper ready? I ask, setting my basket down.

  Not yet, Ivan says.

  Kaarlo slaps a letter on the table.

  It’s For You, he says, looking at me.

  Is it from Matti? I ask.

  Don’t you mean King Matti? Kaarlo taunts.

  I ignore him and rip it open and start reading.

  My Little May,

  I am so sorry to hear of the troubles back home. I would come, but I don’t know what I could do to change the situation and I just can’t leave a good job with the baby on the way. I’m sure you understand.

  I will try and send a little money every month to help out. Take care of yourself.

  Your loving brother,

  Matti

  Tears blur my eyes and I wonder if Mariah has anything besides hands lying around. Because my brother Matti sure could use a heart. Anger races through me quicker than fire in a barn. How could he not come home? He promised!