“That’s right.” Corey nodded. “I’d take the gifts back if I could. But I can’t. So you can keep them or give them away. I don’t care anymore.”
Mom and Dad looked at each other. Dad just stood there as if trying to think of something to say. Mom went to Corey and sat with him on the bed. “Corey, it was sweet that you wanted to give us all gifts. We’re so sorry we spoiled your surprise. We won’t ask about the money again. We love you.”
Corey nodded and then buried his head in her shoulder. “I love you too.” He struggled to hide his tears.
Dad said, “Sorry we didn’t trust you, Corey, it was just that—”
“We will not talk about it anymore,” Mom interrupted in a warning voice. She gave Corey a kiss on the cheek.
Dad approached uncertainly and then put out his right hand. “It’s a deal, son. All is forgiven and forgotten.”
Corey shook his hand. “Remember, Dad, a deal’s a deal.”
10
Asking for Help
The next morning, Corey awoke with relief that the quarrel with his parents was over and he didn’t have to explain where the money came from to buy the gifts.
He was still worried that perhaps he should not have opened that charge account at the company store. The clerk there knew his dad and might tell him that Corey had opened the account in his own name. What if that happened? He’d be back on the carpet with his father, who’d be mad at him for doing business on his own and all that went with it. He wished he could pay off the debt and close that account before Dad found out about it. But how could he? He had no money.
And then he needed to know why he’d felt panic in the mine—he needed help from someone.
Maybe Mrs. Chudzik knows how to stop all the dreams. After all, Abby said she was a doctor when she lived in Poland. Maybe she’ll know what’s wrong with me and why the dreams torment me night and day.
Yes, the only person he knew who might be able to help him with his problem was Mrs. Chudzik. But she was so scary. He recalled how she’d pulled that ugly cape on over her arms, reminding him of black wings. And when she’d peered out at him from under the hood, she’d resembled a hungry vulture, ready to pick the flesh off its victim.
Corey shook his head. He mustn’t get caught up in those stories again. She had saved his life, hadn’t she?
Mrs. Chudzik was a doctor and might have an idea of what to do to make Corey better. That’s all he wanted—someone to talk to about his problems. Besides, she had asked him to come see her once he was better.
After breakfast, he told his mom he was going to look for work somewhere until a job as a breaker boy showed up at the mine. He headed out the door and up the street past Anthony’s road until he turned into the woods at the big boulder. He followed the narrow path to the end, and just as Abby had said, he came out of the woods directly above the Chudzik mansion.
The red car in the driveway indicated that Mrs. Chudzik was home, but what would he say to her? He had no idea as he headed up the steps to the door.
He lifted the heavy brass knocker, then he took a second glance. It was the face of an ugly gargoyle that glared at him with bulging eyes. Did it resemble Mrs. Chudzik? Or was he imagining it?
Corey wanted to run away, but his hand slipped and the knocker bounced and banged loudly several times. It was too late to leave now. He was stupid to have come at all. The house brought back that horrible night when Mrs. Chudzik was in the coffin. He turned away and tiptoed toward the front steps, hoping she hadn’t heard the knocker, when suddenly he tripped over his boot lacing and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
The dog inside howled, and the door opened. Mrs. Chudzik stood there, looking straight ahead. She didn’t see Corey, down on the floor. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Mrs. Chudzik. I’m down here on the floor,” he said, struggling to his feet.
Before he could continue, Hovi jumped out and hurled himself onto Corey, knocking him down again. The dog lapped Corey’s face, whimpering and wiggling as Corey attempted to get to his feet. “It’s okay, Hovi. It’s just me.”
“And who is ‘just me’?’ ” Mrs. Chudzik asked as she turned her attention to the floor. “Stand up! Come over here.”
Corey did as he was told, and stood in front of the woman, who stared at his face for what seemed a long time. He wanted to run away. Instead he whispered, “It’s me, Corey. Don’t you recognize me?”
“Blond hair . . . brown eyes. Hmm. Yes, it’s you,” she answered with a nod.
“I’m sorry I made so much noise.”
“Well, come inside. I’m sure you are here for something or other.”
“Yes. You did ask me to come see you when I recovered from drowning . . . and also, I thought maybe I could talk to you about a problem I have. Perhaps you can help me.”
“Maybe,” she answered. “Maybe not.”
Corey wished again he hadn’t come. Mrs. Chudzik probably thought he was a nuisance. But he couldn’t leave now, after she’d invited him in.
Mrs. Chudzik beckoned him down the hallway. He noticed the big double doors to the parlor had been pulled shut. At the end of the hall was a large kitchen with a round oak table and two chairs. “Sit down,” she said as she took a seat on one side of the table. “Now tell me why you’re here.”
Corey sat opposite her and cleared his throat nervously. “I have been having bad dreams about drowning. They’re so real it’s like drowning all over again. I wake up screaming and sweating. Sometimes I throw up. It even happens when I’m awake.”
Mrs. Chudzik listened and nodded as Corey went on.
“Today would have been my first day working in the mine, because I turned twelve yesterday. I was hoping to get a job as a mule driver, but when I got into the coal car and went speeding down the slope into the mine, that awful dream came over me—this time while I was awake. I panicked, and I had to get out of the coal car, so I stood up.” Corey felt anxious as he related the terror he’d felt. “I probably would have been killed, but Mr. McBride tackled me and threw me to the floor of the car. Next thing I knew, I was in the first aid room and my father was bending over me.” Corey looked sadly at Mrs. Chudzik. “I can’t ever go down there again. I feel so . . . stupid.” He hung his head and looked at the floor, hoping Mrs. Chudzik wouldn’t see he was close to tears.
“Well, you should thank the Lord you didn’t get killed.”
“I thought you might know . . . why I keep thinking I’m drowning . . . when I sleep and when I’m awake.”
Mrs. Chudzik seemed thoughtful for a while. Then she drew herself up and said, “Sometimes, when a person has had a frightening experience, the brain retains all the memories. Then, when something reminds the brain—with a smell or sight or whatever—the person will react as if the experience is happening all over again. It’s known as ‘anxiety hysteria’ or a ‘phobia.’ ”
Corey didn’t quite understand, but the calm way Mrs. Chudzik explained it made him feel better. Whatever he had, it was real, and it had a name. Phobia.
“When you nearly drowned, your brain recorded the incident, so whenever something reminds you of what happened that day, your brain thinks it is happening again and it wants you be afraid—to save yourself. Doctors are beginning to understand how these phobias come about. Some people are frightened of dogs, cats, bats, birds, snakes. . . .”
“I’m not afraid of those things.”
“Because you weren’t threatened by them,” Mrs. Chudzik explained. “Your brain wasn’t set to react by them. Instead, you react when you feel closed in, like when you fell under the ice and couldn’t find your way out. The ice above was like a ceiling that held you down and you were trapped.”
“Yes, yes. That’s exactly how I felt in the mine yesterday.”
“Anyone who went through near drowning could be afraid of the water, or being shut in under a roof, like the ice. Now that you know what causes it, it might help to remember that the fear you have of drowning or b
eing trapped is not real. It’s only your brain trying to convince you that you are in danger. There are ways to overcome it. I can help you, but you won’t be cured overnight.”
“When it’s happening, I’m not sure I can think that it’s not real, because it feels so real when it happens.”
“Oh, it won’t be easy. And it will take time. Remember, fear was put into us to protect us from real danger. But when it’s irrational fear, it’s not a protection, it’s unfounded fear.”
Corey wasn’t sure how his brain worked, but Mrs. Chudzik’s explanation made him feel hopeful. “Thank you, Mrs. Chudzik. I think I understand, but I don’t know if I can help my family if I can’t go down into the mine.”
“We can work on this together, and eventually you’ll be able to go down into the mine. But why do you need to work in the mine?”
“Well, now I’m thinking I’ll become a breaker boy instead. I wouldn’t have to go underground.”
Mrs. Chudzik seemed thoughtful. “I’ve never believed that children should be put to work. It’s just not right. Children should enjoy their childhood. They will be adults soon enough.” Corey noticed Mrs. Chudzik’s eyes became darker as she spoke about the boys in the mines. “The state made a law that children under twelve could no longer work in the bituminous mines, here in Pennsylvania. But there’s no law that I know about boys in the anthracite mines here, where you want to work.”
“Dad said I only had to be twelve to work at Mountain Crest.”
“The government has no child labor laws. When they try to make a law, the states won’t ratify it. Unless a law is ratified by the state, it’s not a law,” Mrs. Chudzik explained.
Corey didn’t understand any of this. The boys worked in the mines—and that was it. No questions were ever asked.
“The mine bosses leave birth dates empty on the forms for the fathers to fill in, or sometimes it’s all filled out by the mine bosses. You just watch and see if your father fills in the date of your birth. If not, the company has already put in the date they want it to be. The mines are happy the way things are. It’s cheaper to hire children—they don’t have to pay as much for child labor.”
“You mean some fathers lie about their sons’ ages?”
“Apparently so. Either that or the mine boss lies.” Mrs. Chudzik put her hands in the air. “Well, that’s enough talk from me. I don’t deal with any of them. I just stay here in my house and mind my own business.”
“My family needs money,” Corey persisted. “Dad says we have bills to pay, and it’s up to me as the oldest son to help out. But I don’t think he’d ever lie about my age.”
“Does your mother want you to work in the mines?”
“Mom’s afraid I’ll get hurt,” Corey admitted. “She remembers a breaker boy who got caught in the machinery and squashed to death. Everyone in town remembers that day.”
“Oh, yes. They brought him here. There was nothing we could do.” She looked away sadly. “There are far more mine accidents with boys than with older miners. You’ll need to be careful for everyone’s sake, Corey, once you start at the mine.”
Mrs. Chudzik took a breath and then went to the stove, where a kettle was simmering. “Now, back to your phobia, Corey. I think once a week you should come and let me know how you’re doing, and we’ll rehearse the things you need to do to get those dreams under control. I learned from a great teacher, but her methods were not recognized—even though they helped many people with anxiety hysteria.” She poured boiling water and tea into a teapot. “Is there anything else you are afraid of?”
“No . . . well, yes.” Corey remembered the bill from the company store. “I visited the company store the other day and bought some gifts for my family—for a surprise.”
Mrs. Chudzik nodded. “Go on, go on.”
“They put it on my account.”
“Your account?” Mrs. Chudzik turned with a startled look. “They gave you an account?”
Corey nodded. “I told them I was working at the mine.” He hurried to explain. “It wasn’t really a lie. I knew I’d be working soon.”
Mrs. Chudzik poured the tea into large, colorful cups. “I see. So, how much do you owe?”
Corey pulled out the bill from his pocket and handed it to her. “It’s only a few dollars, but I don’t have a few dollars. And neither do Mom and Dad. They were so mad at me. They weren’t even happy with the gifts. Mom said she could have bought enough food for a week with that money.”
“Oh, so your folks were angry.”
“Dad thought I either stole the gifts or I stole money to buy the gifts.” Corey looked down at his hands. He hadn’t planned to share that piece of information.
Mrs. Chudzik looked the bill over and then asked, “So how do you plan to pay for this?”
“I was planning to pay for it when I started work at the mine.”
“If you don’t pay this off quickly, they will add interest,” Mrs. Chudzik pointed out.
“I never thought about interest at the time.”
“You didn’t think about much, did you, when you opened that account?”
“No, I didn’t,” Corey admitted. He hoped Mrs. Chudzik didn’t think he was stupid.
“You’re not working, so where will you get the money?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have any money.”
Mrs. Chudzik went to the kitchen counter, opened a cookie jar, and put a dish of cookies on the table. Then she looked at Corey. “I’ll give you the money.”
Corey gulped. “Oh, I would never ask you to do that, Mrs. Chudzik.”
“You didn’t ask me. But you don’t get it for free. I have a requirement. I’ll expect you to work for me this spring. There’s quite of bit of yard work here, and I could use help.”
Corey jumped up with relief. He wanted to hug Mrs. Chudzik but remembered how she’d stiffened up when he’d hugged her before. “I’ll do anything you ask, Mrs. Chudzik. I’ll clean up your yard, walk the dog, plant flowers. I’ll be happy to do it! Thank you so much.”
“Tomorrow you can pay your company store bill.” She went into another room and came back with her purse. “Here you are—just in case they charge interest.” She handed Corey a five-dollar bill. “Otherwise, bring me the change.”
“Oh, I will, I will.” Corey could hardly speak, he was so grateful.
He turned the money over in his hand. This was a real United States bill—not the money that Dad got in his pay envelope.
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Chudzik asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a five-dollar bill before?”
“No. Dad gets paid with Mountain Crest money.”
“Well, of course,” Mrs. Chudzik said. “So they are still printing out their own scrip and cheating their workers in yet another way.”
“Will the company store take this bill?” Corey asked.
“They will be very happy to be paid with legal tender. Just make sure your change is in real money, not scrip.”
Corey nodded and put the five-dollar bill in his leather purse.
“Now, let’s work on your phobia. We’ll start slowly.” She sat at the table again and leaned toward him. “For now, try this when you go near a mine. Stand at the entrance. That’s as far as you need to go. Do not go any farther. All the while, keep thinking, or saying out loud, ‘I am safe. I’m not afraid. I am only standing at the door. I don’t need to be afraid or run away. Nothing is happening to hurt me.’ Take your time and breathe deeply. Pay attention to how safe you are. Notice that. And don’t rush. Go easy and take your time. This is your first lesson.”
Corey listened intently, trying to remember every word.
“Now, this is important. You must believe what you are telling yourself. Don’t just say words—believe them. And don’t project anything more in your mind. Eventually, each time you go near a mine or into a mine, or an enclosed place, you’ll find that you can go farther, but only if you choose. Just that little start will be the beginning of getting well.”
She pushed the plate over to him. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about your visits here. I don’t want people bothering me or running to me for help or knowing my business. I prefer to stay away from people.” She looked away. “Now have a cookie.”
Corey sat, took a deep breath, and felt the stress and tension leave him. He bit into a cookie. Mrs. Chudzik would help him overcome his sickness and help him pay off the company store. She had also invited him back in a week to tell her his progress.
Scary Mrs. Chudzik had calmly listened to his worries and in just a few minutes taken away all his concerns.
Whoever would believe it?
11
Abby Disappears
The next day, Corey slept until late morning. He never heard Dad getting up for work or his brothers leaving for school.
Corey decided he would go to the company store and pay off his debt. After dressing, he stuffed his leather purse and the copy of his bill into his pocket and went downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked.
“To look for work again.” He ate the bologna sandwich and gulped down the milk she set before him on the table.
Mom took his hand. “I wish you didn’t have to go to work, Corey.”
Corey noticed Mom had slumped on a chair, and she had dark circles under her eyes. “Are you all right, Mom?”
“Yes. I get tired more than usual.” She looked up at Corey. “I think you should know if you haven’t guessed already. I am in a family way.”
“Family way?” Corey had heard that expression many times.
“Yes, I’m going to have a baby.”
“Another baby?” Now he understood why the family needed money. How could the family survive with four children when they didn’t have enough money for three?
“You’re surprised?” Mom said. “I thought you might have noticed that I’ve put on weight.”
He had noticed but hadn’t thought much about it. Besides, no one ever talked about such things. The families never said a word that they were expecting until the new baby arrived. Corey felt his face flush. “No.”
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