Under Copp's Hill

by Katherine Ayres

  Everywhere she turned, Innie heard rumors. Ten thousand homes and businesses had burned. No, twenty thousand. The mayor had called up the police to keep order. No, he’d called up the army and the navy and the marines. He’d closed off Chelsea so no robbers could get in. No, he’d made everyone in Chelsea leave.

  By the end of the school day, she couldn’t wait to escape the hubbub by going to the settlement house. She and Teresa climbed Salem Street’s steep hill, where pockets of people gathered in front of shops to gossip in loud Italian. At Hull Street, they turned and walked the half block to number eighteen, a large, redbrick row house right across from the burying ground. This house is too grand to be a tenement. It must have belonged to a rich person, Innie thought. Its windows were tall and shining, the front door freshly painted, the front steps scrubbed clean. The door was propped open. Innie and Teresa peered inside.

  A slender young woman came toward them, smiling. “Are you here to help? Let me guess, Carmela’s sister and cousin? She said you’d come.” She stuck out a dirty hand, looked at it, wiped it on her apron, and stuck it out again. “I’m Miss Guerrier. Welcome. We can surely use your help today.” The woman had gray eyes and dark hair done up in a loose knot. She spoke in a crisp, clipped Yankee voice, but Innie thought she seemed friendly.

  They all shook hands, and then the girls followed Miss Guerrier up a flight of stairs to the second floor. She led them through a wide hallway into a large room with tall windows along one wall. The other walls were lined with bookshelves. Afternoon sun peeked through the windows and made patterns on the dark wood floor. In one corner, another girl knelt with pails and rags, scrubbing a shelf. The room smelled so clean it stung Innie’s nose.

  “That fire made quite a mess,” the lady began. “As you can see, we’re scrubbing the meeting room today. The walls are done, but the shelves need work. Tomorrow we’ll bring books and unpack. Matela, these girls have offered to help, as you have. They’re cousins, Innie and Teresa Moretti. I’ll be upstairs working on the third floor. I’ll be down in a while to see how you’re doing.” Miss Guerrier smiled and hurried back into the hallway.

  Innie pushed up the sleeves of her dress. It wasn’t hard to see which shelves needed cleaning, but Innie thought it might be polite to ask the other girl where to begin. After all, she’d gotten here first. “Want some help?”

  “Yes, please.” The girl turned to them and smiled. “Plenty dirt for three. I’m Matela Rosen.”

  Innie smiled back at the girl. Matela was small and thin, with dark hair and pale skin.

  “Are you in one of the library clubs?” Teresa asked.

  “Not yet,” Matela said. “But soon. Wednesday.”

  “We’re new, too. And we’ll be Wednesday afternoon girls like you.” Innie bent and picked up a rag. “All right if I wash the next bookshelf?”

  “Sure. Miss Guerrier, she says start at the top, scrub down. Change the water when it gets dirty. There is a tap in the kitchen. Lucky for us the walls are done. That smoke, it goes everywhere.”

  Smoke again, Innie thought. Was there no place in Boston she could hide from news of the burning? “I’m tired of hearing about that fire.”

  Teresa pulled a pail close to some dirty shelves. “I’m sure Mama’s busy at home too, scrubbing soot off our walls.”

  Nonna was too, Innie decided. Now that the fire was over, Nonna would scrub until her hands grew raw, making all the signs of fire disappear.

  “I, too, am tired of fire,” Matela said. “In the old country …”

  Innie looked at her sharply. “What happened in the old country?” she asked.

  Matela shrugged. “They burn things back in Russia.”

  Surely Matela didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Innie thought. “What … what do you mean?” she asked.

  “The czar’s soldiers. First they burn the shul where Papà prays. Then some barns. Papà says houses burn next, so we go to America. Two years now, almost three, we live here.”

  Soldiers burning innocent people’s barns and houses? The very idea made Innie’s stomach hurt.

  “How come we don’t know you, then?” Teresa asked. “Do you go to Hancock School?”

  Matela slopped her rag into the pail with a splash. “Yes. Hancock. But I … When we come, they put me with babies in grade one. I am nine then and big. But a greenhorn—so new—I have no English.”

  Teresa nodded. “We had big girls in our class too. Innie and I, we’re in sixth grade. I’m twelve, and Innie turns twelve this summer.” She stood and hauled her pail of dirty water out into the hallway.

  “I am twelve in summer also. And I am still a little green,” Matela explained to Innie. “But I don’t let them keep me with babies. I learn quick and I jump. I’m hurrying to finish grade five. This summer, I study hard and learn grade six. In the year to come, I go to seven.”

  “With us,” Innie finished. “But that’s lots of studying.”

  “I don’t mind,” Matela said shyly. “I love books. And Papà says if America gives you school for free, you must take with both hands.”

  “I’d like your papa,” Innie said. She scrubbed hard with her rag and smiled, trying to imagine a family that thought reading books was a good idea, especially for daughters. That was nicer than thinking about fires.

  The three girls finished the shelves and then wiped down the windowsills until they shone. “Let’s do the floor too,” Innie suggested. “It’s all spotty from our pails. I’ll get clean water.”

  Innie lugged two pails down the hallway to the back of the house. When she stepped into the kitchen, she could hardly believe such a room existed—large, bright, and so clean, with a big white sink that gleamed. Just these two rooms, the meeting room and the kitchen, were larger than the flat she lived in with Nonna and seven lodgers. And here, they had running water right in the kitchen—you didn’t have to lug it from the hallway.

  While the first pail filled, Innie cracked open a door to one of the cabinets and peeked inside. Shiny pots and pans of different sizes filled the shelves. They looked brand-new. She opened another door and saw colorful pottery mugs lined up like soldiers in rows. She heard a sound that might have been footsteps and quickly closed the door, then lifted the pail of fresh water out of the sink.

  When the second pail was full, she lugged both back to the meeting room, water slopping out onto her skirt.

  “Innie, you’re soaked,” Teresa said. “Nonna will scold.”

  Innie shrugged. “So Nonna will scold. La vita è così.”

  “Pardon? What does that mean?” Matela frowned. “La vita …”

  “La vita è così? That’s Italian,” Innie said. “Nonna, our grandmother, she’s always saying it. It means ‘Life is like that,’ or something.”

  Matela nodded. “Azoy gayt es, ‘so it goes.’ That’s Yiddish. My grandfather back in Russia, he says these words. At least I hope so. I miss him. I hope he’s still all right.”

  Innie set down the sloshing pails and knelt to scrub, peering sideways at Matela, studying her. So, she thought. This girl’s got holes in her life too.

  With three girls working, it didn’t take long to scrub the floor. Afterward, while Matela and Teresa hauled the pails of dirty water to the kitchen, Innie decided to explore.

  Between the meeting room and kitchen, she found a dining room with a shiny wood table, and chairs set neatly around. At one end, near a window, stood a piano. Back in the wide hallway, Innie noticed a row of coat hooks along one side, and on the other, the stairway she and Teresa had taken earlier. It was a grand, fancy stairway with a smooth, polished banister. Innie walked closer and let her fingers glide over the dark wood of that banister. It felt so slick, even a spider would fall off, she thought. So slick, it would be fun to slide down.

  Did she dare? She looked around. Nobody was in sight, and so what if Teresa or Matela came out of the kitchen and saw her? She climbed the stairs to the third floor quickly, on tiptoe. When she reached the landing, s
he hopped up on the railing, caught her balance, and shoved off.

  Whoosh! What a ride!

  At the bottom, she jumped down and grinned. Did she have time for another ride? she wondered. Sure, why not? She’d almost reached the third floor when Miss Guerrier suddenly appeared at the landing.

  “Innie? Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Um, I just came to tell you that we finished scrubbing the bookshelves, Miss. And the floor too.”

  “I see. Thank you very much then. But, Innie, club girls don’t come up these stairs unless invited.”

  “Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss.” All right, Innie thought, so I can’t ride the banister again. Worse things could happen. At least she’d gotten to ride once.

  CHAPTER 3

  MOVING DAY

  On Tuesday, the hubbub about the fire continued. On the way to school, Innie closed her eyes to the horrible newspaper pictures showing piles of blackened stones where houses used to be. She crossed the street to avoid groups of men gossiping on the street corners.

  Still, the news seeped into her mind. Churches were asking for donations of food and clothing for people whose homes had burned. Soldiers patrolled Chelsea, searching for bodies. And the mayor really had closed off Chelsea from the rest of Boston. Innie tried to push the terrible fire out of her mind and concentrate on getting through the school day so she could return to the settlement house.

  That afternoon the weather turned gray, and the walk up Salem Street chilled Innie all the way through. Teresa and Matela were shivering too. On both sides of the street, shops and tenements loomed, casting long, cold shadows on the sidewalk. People hurried past, clutching coats and shawls tightly against the damp. Even the horses pulling wagons and hacks through the narrow streets looked cold to Innie.

  As she, Teresa, and Matela reached Hull Street, they passed a cluster of older girls unloading heavy crates from a horse-drawn cart on the street.

  Miss Guerrier stood at the door to the settlement house. When she saw the three girls, she smiled. “You did a wonderful job cleaning the shelves yesterday,” she said. “We’re moving books. Would you like to help unpack?”

  “Sure,” Innie said. Teresa and Matela nodded.

  Miss Guerrier led the way upstairs and through a maze of crates into the meeting room. Today, a thick woven rug with bright patterns in red and gold lay over the clean floor. Simple curtains framed all the windows. That Miss Guerrier had sure been busy.

  “The books are packed in alphabetical order, by author,” she explained. “Let’s start here with the A’s and move around the room. And be sure to leave extra space on each shelf. We’ll be buying more books soon.”

  Books and more books. Innie thought of the million places she could visit in all those books. She felt like a starving child might feel visiting the market stalls and seeing boxes and bins overflowing with food. And, as if the crates of books already here weren’t enough, these Yankee ladies would buy more! Innie itched to touch a new, perfect book. At school the books were all smudged, and she’d never read one that still had all its pages.

  She located a crate marked A and opened the flaps. With careful fingers, she drew out a thick green book and traced the title—Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. Inside she saw a drawing of four smiling girls and their mother. I must read that, Innie decided, and set it on the shelf. As she unpacked, she discovered eight more books by Miss Alcott. They’d keep her reading for a long time.

  In the two hours between school and suppertime, Innie, Teresa, and Matela emptied crate after crate of books. When the last crate was empty and her skirt was covered with dust and grime, Innie returned to the A shelf and studied the row of books by Miss Alcott. Quickly, she hid Little Women at the back of the shelf, behind the other books. At the club meeting tomorrow, Carmela had explained, each girl would be allowed to borrow a book for a whole week. Innie didn’t want anyone else to get Little Women first. She was shoving books together to hide it when Teresa crept up next to her.

  “What are you doing, Innie?”

  “Shhh. I’m just hiding a book that I want to borrow tomorrow.”

  “Well, stop it. Messing with the books like that, it looks like you’re stealing one.”

  “Stealing one what?” Matela asked, as she joined them.

  “Nothing. I’m just hiding a book,” Innie said.

  “You’ll get in trouble,” Teresa warned, shaking her head just as Nonna would.

  “La vita è così,” Innie replied.

  “Here, hide it better.” Matela quickly helped arrange the A shelf.

  “Thanks. Let’s go now.” Innie stepped toward the door, but she stopped when she heard loud voices coming from the hall. She turned toward Teresa and Matela and put a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

  “… yes, I’m sure. A crate is missing. When I went to make us a pot of tea, I couldn’t find the teapot, or the tea.”

  Innie didn’t recognize the voice, but she could tell that the woman who spoke was upset.

  “My dear Miss Brown, don’t worry so. Surely on moving day, one might misplace a crate. Did you look in the kitchen?”

  That sounded like Miss Guerrier’s calm voice. Innie inched closer to the open doorway.

  “I’ve scoured our entire apartment upstairs and searched the kitchen here as well—with no luck, I’m sorry to say. The crate is just gone. The thought of someone, an intruder, being in our home …”

  “Please, Miss Brown. Let’s think about this. We’ve had delivery men coming and going for some time. Perhaps one of them simply moved it.”

  Innie liked the way Miss Guerrier was speaking. She sounded confident and strong.

  “Now what was in the crate, dear? Do you recall?”

  “Of course I recall. I packed a variety of things we could eat during the move—tins of saltines, bags of walnuts and raisins, two tins of our Earl Grey tea. And as there was still room in the crate, I tucked your silver teapot in, wrapped with towels to protect it.”

  “My grandmother’s teapot? I see.” Miss Guerrier’s voice had gone quiet.

  Innie caught her breath. She’d never even seen a silver teapot, but it sounded important. Plus, it wasn’t just Miss Guerrier’s—it was her grandmother’s.

  Innie heard footsteps and motioned to Teresa and Matela, but before they could move from the doorway, both ladies walked in.

  “You girls. You’ve been here working for some time?” The woman who spoke was shorter and plumper than Miss Guerrier and looked mussed from moving. She must be Carmela’s Miss Brown.

  “Y–yes, Miss. Unpacking books.” Innie stammered.

  “Have you seen anyone who appeared suspicious?” Miss Guerrier asked in a softer voice.

  “No, Miss,” Matela said.

  “Thank you, then. You may go.” Miss Guerrier tried to smile, but Innie could tell the lady didn’t feel like smiling, and Innie didn’t much blame her.

  As the girls stepped down into the hall, Innie heard Miss Brown say quietly, “You know, I’m sure that I saw one of them in the kitchen yesterday, nosing around.”

  Innie swallowed hard. She had been snooping, but just for a minute.

  “Let’s search the apartment again, shall we?” said Miss Guerrier. “I’m sure it’s just a mix-up.”

  “I hope it’s just a mix-up,” Innie whispered as she stepped outdoors with Teresa and Matela. She didn’t want any trouble to upset a nice lady like Miss Guerrier.

  “They’ll find it soon. It would be easy to lose one crate in such a big house,” Teresa said. “Come on, Innie, let’s go home. Will you walk with us, Matela? You walk down Salem Street, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I will like that.”

  “I’ll like it too,” Innie declared, flinging one arm around Teresa’s shoulder and one around Matela’s. ”And we’ll be Wednesday afternoon girls together, starting tomorrow.”

  As they turned the corner at Old North Church, Innie caught sight of her cousin Antonio and one of his pals. Once Innie and Teresa r
eached their tenement and said good-bye to Matela, Antonio stomped across the street and stopped them. “Who’s that girl? She don’t look Italian.”

  “So what?” Innie said.

  “So Papà might not like it. You stick to your own kind or I’ll tell.” He stood right in front of them with his feet planted wide.

  “Don’t tell, Tony,” Teresa said. “I’ll save my dessert for you. Please?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He poked a finger at Innie. “You, Innocenza, you stay away from that strange girl. Don’t you get my sister in trouble again. Capisci?”

  “Sure, sure.” Innie shrugged and headed inside. In the kitchen, Nonna was stirring something in a big pot on the stove. She waved her spoon at Innie. “Ah, bambina, cold day outside. Come. Warm yourself by the stove.”

  As Innie stepped closer, Nonna took a look at her dress and began to scold. “Look, you. Yesterday wet, today dirty. With seven bordanti to feed, you think I got time to wash dresses every night? Why can’t you behave good, like Teresa? Ah, maybe I should send you to the Sisters sooner.”

  Please, not that again. Innie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Nonna.”

  Nonna pointed with the spoon. “Go! Brush off the dirt. Then help lay the table. The bordanti come soon.”

  Innie slipped into the back room and piled her coat and schoolbooks on her cot. She shook the dirt off her skirt. Then she set bowls and spoons out on the table for the lodgers and lifted the lid of the heavy iron pot on the stove. Spaghetti with peas tonight. Good. And tomorrow, she and Teresa would become real Wednesday afternoon girls. So who cared about a scolding, anyway? Or that greedy Antonio with his two desserts?

  Later, as darkness fell, Innie lay on her cot listening to the muffled creaks of the men in the front rooms settling in for the night. Nearby, she heard Nonna’s bed shift again and again as the old woman rolled and tossed. That fire had sure upset Nonna, and until she finally fell asleep, Innie would hear every rustle.

  She tucked her blanket around her shoulders and crept into the kitchen, where she pulled a chair close to the stove to stay warm.