Breaker Boy

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  Hovi sat up from his place on the rug, put his front paws on the side of the tub, and whined. The golden fur above his eyes rose in worry as he watched Corey anxiously.

  “Aw, I’m okay, Hovi. I’m all right.” Corey winced as he picked up the washcloth and wiped away the thick grease from his body. It took some time. However, he persisted, and then lay down in the tub, to let the fresh-smelling water surround him.

  What a nice bathtub. So big and white—just turn a knob and warm water flows in. This sure is different from the tin tub we use at home. It must be nice to be rich like Mrs. Chudzik. Why are some people rich while others are poor? he wondered.

  Corey rolled over and over in the water. My mom and dad are good folks. How come they have so little when we need so much with our big family? And here’s Mrs. Chudzik, who doesn’t have anyone but her dog, Hovi. She must be lonely. So I guess maybe we probably are better off than she is, except for the bathtub.

  Corey was comfortable by now, and he could have easily fallen asleep, except he slipped down deeper into the water, which lapped over his face. He yelped when the familiar dark memory jarred him awake. He struggled to sit up but slid again into the water.

  Suddenly, the dog put his paws on the edge of the tub and barked, and before Corey could stop him, Hovi climbed into the tub with a SPLASH.

  “Hovi, get out,” Corey yelled, trying to stand. Then, with another splash, he sank under the water again.

  The big dog, slipping and sliding, finally jumped out of the tub, taking more water than dog onto the floor and rug. Hovi shook the water from his bristly coat and waited for Corey to get out.

  “Aw, Hovi. Why did you do that?” Corey asked.

  Mrs. Chudzik knocked on the door. “Are you done yet? What’s going on?”

  “Woof!” Hovi barked.

  “Yes, I’m done.” Corey climbed out of the tub and stepped onto the soft but wet lambskin rug. He wrapped himself in the huge towel she’d given him and patted himself dry. Then he saw a tin of talcum powder on the table and shook it over himself, taking in the fresh scent.

  After dressing in the clean clothes he’d brought, he combed his hair with an ivory comb he found on the table. “I’m done, Mrs. Chudzik,” he called.

  Mrs. Chudzik entered the bathroom and surveyed the flood damage. “What happened in here?”

  “Hovi wanted a bath too,” Corey said. “He climbed in with me.”

  “Oh no, he didn’t want a bath. Hovi absolutely hates baths. He runs and hides when he hears the word. No, he was worried about you. He was trying to save you again.”

  Corey stroked Hovi’s wet head as the dog lapped his face. “You are my hero, Hovi. You’re a good boy.”

  “You must feel better now.” Mrs. Chudzik picked up the towel and sopped up some of the water on the floor.

  “Oh, lots better,” Corey said. “I’ve never had a real bath in a real bathtub.”

  Mrs. Chudzik didn’t say anything as she wrung out the towel. Then she pulled a jar from her pocket. “Now we’ll put some of this healing salve that I made onto your hands. If you use it several times a day, your hands should heal within a week.” She opened the jar and scooped out the creamy white ointment onto Corey’s outstretched palms. “Does that feel better?”

  “Yes, cool and better. Thank you.” For a moment, Corey felt like crying.

  Mrs. Chudzik gave him a long look—and then asked, “Now, do you want me to take you home? Or to the breaker?”

  “What time is it?” Corey asked, brushing his eyes with his sleeve.

  She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s half past three now. If we hurry, we can get you back to the breaker before it closes. You’ll have a little time to work yet.”

  “But . . . I don’t want . . .”

  “Of course you don’t. However, if you go back now, this whole incident will be behind you by tomorrow.” She pushed him toward the door. “Out to the car. . . . Come on, hurry up. You’ll get back in plenty of time. Just tell them you had to wash up.” She stopped. “On second thought, you don’t need to explain. Just go back to work.”

  “They’ll never leave me alone.”

  Mrs. Chudzik stared at him with her frosty eyes. “They won’t leave you alone and you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t go back. And how will you explain it to your folks?” She picked up Corey’s work clothes, which he’d left on the floor. “Do you have hot water at home? They’ll need hot water and soap.”

  Corey nodded, but Mrs. Chudzik didn’t notice. “You’ll never get the grease out without hot water.” She put everything in a laundry basket. “I’ll use strong lye soap on this mess,” she muttered. Then she opened the front door and shoved him out. “Come on; let’s get you back there to the breaker before it closes.”

  Hovi darted eagerly out the door and hopped into the backseat of Mrs. Chudzik’s automobile. Hovi appeared rock solid and regal as he glanced from right to left at the town passing by. No one would dare come near the automobile with Hovi—the appointed guardian of Mrs. Chudzik and her chariot—sitting proudly at the ready.

  They dropped Corey off at the breaker. As he hurried into the breaker room, he realized that his disappearance wasn’t noticed as much as his arrival with Mrs. Chudzik and Hovi. Some of the breaker boys saw him arrive in the big car, and Corey heard them buzzing as he headed back to work.

  “Would ya look at that!” Frank exclaimed. “Look who’s comin’ back—and in a bee-utiful fancy auto.”

  Charlie, blocking Corey’s path, muttered, “Well, pardon-nez me!” Corey sidestepped him.

  Paddy, a bandage over his nose, shook his head. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. He’s in tight with that weird Chudzik lady.”

  The boss looked out the window. “Hey. Wait a minute, ain’t that the new kid? Where has he been? How did he get a ride in a car like that?” When everyone tried to answer, he banged his stick on the floor and yelled, “Get to work!” The boys all scattered to their seats.

  Corey went to the washroom and found his empty lunch pail where he had put it. He climbed into his seat at the breaker and began sorting the coal again. He was surprised that not another word was said about his lunch pail or the greasing he’d had—but the whispering went on about Corey’s friendship with that creepy Chudzik lady and her hellhound.

  21

  Corey Talks Too Much

  That evening before supper, Mom and Dad wanted to hear about Corey’s first day at the breaker. So Corey told about his entire day—the greasing he received, the sore hands, Mrs. Chudzik to the rescue, and returning to the breaker in her automobile.

  When he was finished, Mom spoke up. “Those boys are fierce! Imagine! Filling your trousers with that awful grease. And they ate your lunch too.”

  “They do that to everyone,” Dad tried to explain. “It’s like an initiation. They weren’t picking on Corey particularly.”

  Mom turned to Dad accusingly. “You knew they would be shoving grease down his pants, and eating his lunch . . . and . . . ?” Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “How could you allow . . .”

  “I didn’t know they would do all that with the grease,” Dad retorted. “I thought it would be some simple type of trick—yeah, like stealing his lunch, or hiding his hat. That’s all they did to me.”

  “Now let me see your hands,” Mom said. Corey stretched out his hands, and Mom gasped. “Oh, Corey, what a mess. Just look at the sores.”

  “They’re feeling better now. Mrs. Chudzik gave me some ointment that she made herself.”

  “Mrs. Chudzik is an amazing woman,” Mom said. “She should have been a doctor.”

  “She was a doctor when she lived in Poland,” Corey told her, “but she is a nurse here.”

  “Well, I never knew that,” Mom said. “It’s a crime that people think terrible things about her.”

  Mom had made a special supper to celebrate Corey’s first day of work—chicken with gravy, potatoes, and carrots. Corey was hungry and dug in eagerly, then win
ced with the pain from his hands and fingers. His mother took the fork and began to feed him.

  “No, Mom. I can feed myself,” Corey sputtered as she shoved chicken into his mouth.

  Jack and Sammy kicked each other under the table and smothered their giggles.

  “Stop it, Mom. I don’t want you to feed me,” Corey protested, grabbing the fork. “Mrs. Chudzik said my hands will heal in a week or so with the ointment.” He pulled the jar out from his pocket and handed it to his mother.

  She opened it and sniffed at the white cream inside. “Mrs. Chudzik was very kind to you today,” she said. “I must go over to her house and thank her.”

  “She’s coming here to dinner on Sunday,” Corey reminded her. “She’ll bring back my clothes then.”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you left your dirty, greasy clothes for Mrs. Chudzik to wash.”

  “She wanted to wash them—with lye soap and hot water.”

  “I am so embarrassed,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I cannot believe you did that.”

  “Maybe she likes doing family washes,” Corey argued. “Maybe she misses having a family.”

  “That might be true,” Mom acknowledged. “She must be lonesome up in that big house with no one except her dog for companionship—and the whole town making fun of her, or scared of her.” Mom’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “That wonderful, poor soul,” she said. “We’ve got to do something. . . .”

  “What do you think we should do?” Dad asked as he came back into the kitchen.

  “We can be more neighborly and helpful. After all, she saved our son’s life.”

  “I told Mrs. Chudzik I’d help her with her lawn this spring,” Corey offered.

  “That was nice of you, Corey,” Mom said.

  “Just be sure you do it,” Dad said. “Don’t conveniently forget.”

  “I won’t forget,” Corey answered, still not revealing how he actually owed Mrs. Chudzik that work to pay back the money she’d loaned him.

  “How do you feel, Corey? Can you handle it at the breaker tomorrow?”

  “Sure, I can handle it, Dad. Nobody bothered me this afternoon when I got back.” He laughed. “They sure were surprised when they saw me in Mrs. Chudzik’s Matheson Touring car.”

  The next day at work, some of the breaker boys were whispering and looking at Corey. He wondered why they were so obviously talking about him. Were they planning another grease attack? He was wary all day, watching out for Shorty with the grease can. But no one came after him. Yet the whispering and looks continued.

  Finally, Charlie came over to Corey at lunchtime. “Hey, kid,” he said, moving in closer. “We got a question for ya.”

  Corey, on guard, moved back. “Okay. Ask it.”

  “How well do ya know that old lady with the automobile?”

  “I don’t know her very well.”

  “Ya know her well enough to ride around with her in her fancy car.”

  “She saved my life, you know.”

  “No, we didn’t know.”

  Corey began to tell about his close call with death and how Hovi saw him go under, and all that. The boys moved closer to hear the story. Corey nervously continued his tale, hardly noticing what details he was revealing, as he watched for an escape route, in case the boys were up to something. However, as he got into the story, the kids listened in rapt attention, without turning away. No one attempted to grease him or steal his lunch, or whatever they might have had in mind. He told them how it felt to be dead for a while. It was a fascinating story, and the breaker boys listened so intently that Corey embellished the tale. He described Hovi as a ferocious monster of a dog, and Mrs. Chudzik as peculiar and mysterious. Corey was enjoying his moment at center stage while all the breaker boys listened without poking fun or yelling nasty comments. When he finished, there was silence. The breaker boys were spellbound.

  “Wow,” said Charlie, in awe.

  “Man alive,” Paddy whispered.

  “Then the rumors are all true,” Frank said in amazement.

  Corey suddenly felt sick. What had he done? He had been so captivated with the attention of his audience, he’d told them everything, including the part about Mrs. Chudzik and her coffin. He had betrayed her.

  Corey burst out laughing. “You guys don’t believe all that about the coffin, do ya? It never happened. I was just bamboozling ya.” However, his laugh and his words did not ring true. The boys ignored him as they huddled together, whispering.

  “What are you doing?” Corey demanded as he tried to elbow into the group. “What are you planning?”

  “Aw, nothin’, kid,” Charlie said. “Get outta here.”

  22

  Polish Night

  On Sunday evening, Corey’s brother Jack came running into the house. “Dad! Mom! That lady is here.”

  “What lady?” Mom asked from the kitchen.

  “You know, the one who saved Corey. The one with the automobile.”

  “Mrs. Chudzik, you mean. Of course she’s here. We invited her to dinner.”

  “She’s comin’ up the walk, Mama,” Sammy called as he watched from the parlor window.

  “Come in, come in, Mrs. Chudzik,” Dad was saying at the front door. “So happy you could come.”

  Mom and Corey hurried into the parlor.

  Mrs. Chudzik was dressed up in a bright red capelike coat that was the same shade as her red automobile. Once again, Mrs. Chudzik nodded and stared at everyone in turn. Her gaze fell on Mom, and she extended her gloved hand. “Good evening, Mrs. Adamski.”

  Mom nodded and shook hands. “Please call me Annie. Welcome again to our house on this beautiful evening.”

  The lady then turned to Dad. “Mr. Adamski,” she said politely, holding out her hand, which Dad took, after wiping his own hand off on his shirt.

  Then she turned to the boys, who stood in a line, with their mouths open. Mrs. Chudzik had a look that intimidated people, especially kids.

  “Hmm,” she said. “You boys all look alike, don’t you? Blond hair, blue eyes.”

  “No, I have brown eyes,” Corey said. “Jack and Sammy have blue.”

  “Please come in and sit down, Mrs. Chudzik,” said Mom. “Joe, take Mrs. Chudzik’s coat.”

  “Where is Hovi?” Corey asked.

  “I left him at home,” she explained. “A Hovawart is always the guardian of the estate,” she explained to Dad, who was taking her coat.

  “Isn’t Zerak the guardian?” Corey asked, remembering the grinning skeleton.

  “Of the king, Corey,” Mrs. Chudzik clarified. “Zerak is the guardian of the king, but Hovi is the guardian of the estate. There is a difference.”

  The mansion needs a guardian tonight while Mrs. Chudzik is gone, Corey thought. He was nervous about some of the breaker boys and what they might try to see if there really was a coffin in the parlor. Corey still felt to blame for arousing their curiosity by blabbing so much the other day.

  “I’ve made a Polish dinner for this occasion,” Mom said.

  “Thank you very much, Mrs. Adam . . . Annie.”

  They all sat at the table. Dad inserted extra boards he’d made to expand it, so everyone could sit together. The grown-ups shared wine and Dad said, “Smacznego!” as they clinked their glasses.

  “Oh, someone found pussy willows, I see,” Mrs. Chudzik said, pointing to the bouquet the boys had picked in the woods that day.

  “We did!” Jack and Sammy answered simultaneously.

  Mom smiled. “A sure sign that spring is here, although a bit early, I think.”

  They sat down to rosol—Polish chicken soup served with noodles and greens. The main course was sausage, with Mom’s delicious potato-and-cheese pierogi, and lots of mushrooms that Mom picked out in the woods last fall and dried.

  It will be a long time before we have another big dinner like this, Corey thought. Mom must have swapped cans of vegetables and jelly with Mrs. Sullivan in exchange for the chicken. He had no
idea where she might have found the sausage.

  “How long have you been in America, Mrs. Chudzik?” Mom asked.

  “A long time.”

  “You speak English with hardly a trace of a Polish accent,” Mom noted.

  “I tried hard to fit into the community,” Mrs. Chudzik answered, looking away. “But it has been difficult—especially since my husband, Paul, died.” She looked up at Corey. “Corey, what do you want to do, when you are all grown up? What type of work?”

  “I’ll probably be a miner, like Dad,” he answered. “That’s all we know and talk about.”

  “I wish our boys could learn something other than mining,” Mom told her.

  “How could we afford it? Miners don’t make enough money to educate their kids.” Dad caught Mom’s warning look and added hastily, “It’s not so bad now, since the unions have taken over. The hours and pay are better than they were when my father and Annie’s father worked in the mines.”

  “And you, Corey, if you had a choice other than mining, what would you like to do or learn about?” Mrs. Chudzik asked.

  Corey thought for a moment and then said, “I’d really love to know more how the earth began. Let me show you something.” He excused himself and ran to his room. He had hidden the beautiful piece of coal Mr. Russell had given him in his cigar box. After retrieving it, he brought it back to the table and handed it to Mrs. Chudzik.

  “Mr. Russell told me this leaf is from a tree that lived millions—maybe billions—of years ago. When I hold this rock in my hand, I wonder what was here on the earth back then. What dinosaurs or even people might have crawled around right here in Pennsylvania? It’s a feeling that hits me here. . . .” He pointed to his chest. “It’s kinda like when I look up at the stars on a clear night and know the light that I’m seeing left them millions of years ago.”

  Corey stopped talking and felt his face flush. He’d never told anyone about the wonder he felt when he held that fossil in his hand or looked up at the stars. “Um, I’d like you to have this,” he said, handing the fossil to Mrs. Chudzik.