Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  She remembers the Leszek family now. Mr. Leszek is in jail—bootlegging or fighting—and with a brood of children at home, it can’t be easy for Mrs. Leszek. Haunted by knowing that Jack would dive in and help, Peggy continues to struggle against the urge. If I say yes this time, there will be a steady stream of ‘them’ at my back door, looking for something.

  “I’m so sorry Mrs. Leszek, but I’m very busy this afternoon. Maybe your own people can help you? I will talk to Tommy and let you know what he says. Now, I really must get back to my work.” The door, and Peggy’s resolve not to be involved, is stronger than the woman who is blocking it.

  The dish towel is returned to the oven door handle. I’m sure her boy’s out there somewhere getting into trouble, just like his brothers and their father. These people are different than we are. Tommy’s too much like his father—a friend to all. I’ll talk to him after school. Tommy needs to know this Oskar is going to be a bad influence on him, what with not coming home at night.

  Peggy tidies up in an effort to not think about Jack and how disappointed he’d be by her behavior. Now Jack, he had loved sitting on the back porch with the neighbors, a bottle of vodka and a plate of pickles resting on the step. Together, the men had hung clotheslines, repaired roofs, tinkered with cars, and complained about the Phillies ball team. Jack had even convinced her that he could build an extension off the kitchen to help house immigrants looking for work. She’d allowed it—a compromise so as not to have a stranger in one of the bedrooms upstairs. But, he died before it was even used.

  In the rest of their neighborhood, people would be in and out of each other's kitchens like they were their own. And Jack was one of those people. He’d gently tease her when she hung back from going to the potlucks, and when she made excuses for not sitting at neighbors’ kitchen tables. He never understood that she had little in common with these foreign women and no interest at all in getting to know them better. The way she’d been raised was not the way he’d grown up.

  Peggy rationalizes Mrs. Leszek’s concern by telling herself that someone will help. Someone from her family’s church, a friend of the jailbird husband, one of their own. It’s not my problem, Jack. Really, it’s not my problem. This is what happens with bad influences. I’ve raised our boy properly. He’ll have to stop hanging out with those kind of people. That’ll keep him out of trouble. You can trust me, Jack. I’ll keep Tommy safe.

  Thinking about Oskar Leszek gets her thinking about who would help her, heaven forbid something should happen to Tommy. Who would she ask for help? She knows none of her neighbors and she's sure her family wouldn't help. Peggy supposes she could ask Howard or, if her lodgers stay, she could ask them. Thank goodness I don’t have to worry about that.

  Peggy puts her hands on her hips and surveys her orderly kitchen. Apples shine in a bowl on the table, a trussed chicken in a roaster sits on top of the icebox, celery and onions are piled on the counter, and a bag of flour sits beside the canisters. “Now,” she says to the heart of her home, “on to act two of ‘The Landlady Serves Dinner’.”

  Busy at the counter, Peggy can feel the shadow of the back door behind her. Jack opened that door to everyone. Maybe I’ll mention Oskar to Constable Kelly at supper.

  Chapter 6

  A satisfying afternoon of chopping, stirring, seasoning, and taste-testing, and supper is ready; despite the lingering guilt over Mrs. Leszek’s situation. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, Peggy surveys two of the new lodgers gathered at her dining room table. She savors the moment. With a contented smile, she smooths her dress over her hips. No apron for me tonight. I’m the landlady.

  Peggy loves the dining room. It reminds her of childhood dinners cooked by staff. She recalls carefree afternoons, new clothes, and indulgences that provided a soft place to fall—until she fell hard for Jack.

  The dining room suite had been a wedding gift from her grandmother, who never held Peggy’s impetuousness against her. Peggy adored her for it. To her, the dining room suite’s elegant Federal style implied a certain place in the world. She loved Jack and all he stood for; yet attempted to replicate that which she missed from her own childhood home. Jack used to tease her about it, his Principessa.

  She and Jack had wallpapered the walls above the wainscoting, and painted all the woodwork a bright white to match the living room. At some point, she hopes to find a carpet to go under the table, but for now, the hardwood floors gleam.

  A blue and white Spode soup tureen holds pride of place on the marble-topped sideboard. The tureen had also belonged to her grandmother and was part of the china dish set that she had left Peggy in her will. When Tommy was a toddler, he had broken the china ladle. Jack had glued it back together so that, with the tureen’s lid on, the set looked perfect.

  Peggy gracefully perches on the chair her lodger, Mr. Mansfield, holds out for her. She admires the table with its starched white cloth and blue and white dishes. The elegance of the Spode is a talisman for her, a symbol of where she’d come from, and a nod to better days ahead. She’s sure there isn’t a nicer set of china in any of the houses along her street.

  The smile of her other lodger, Mr. Smith, suggests an air of occasion; their first dinner all together. Almost all together. Peggy taps her foot. Tommy is extremely late from school. He is only just washing his hands in the kitchen. Constable Kelly sent word that he will be detained, and asked that she put a plate in the oven for him. Peggy sharply snaps open her napkin and lays it across her lap.

  What do boys that age get up to? Tommy and Constable Kelly’s tardiness sets a bad example to the other lodgers, and is disrespectful of all my hard work putting together a delicious dinner for them.

  When Tommy finally sits, his fidgeting causes Peggy to excuse herself and Tommy from the table before she’s even introduced him.

  In the privacy of the kitchen, she says to her son, “I need you to understand that taking in lodgers is necessary, Tommy. And I expect that you’ll be courteous to our guests. We’re running a business now, and I need you to behave.” She hands him another jug of gravy and picks up the bowl of cranberry sauce she had forgotten.

  Tommy’s mouth is watering as he carries the gravy to the table. His stomach gurgles with delicious anticipation. It’s been ages since they’ve had this kind of food. By the time he’s in the dining room, his smile is the widest she’s seen in a long time. “Save room for dessert,” whispers Peggy, “I made apple crumble, and there’s cream to go with it.”

  “Mr. Mansfield, Mr. Smith, this is my son, Tommy. Tommy, this is Mr. Mansfield and Mr. Smith, who will be living with us for a bit. Mr. Mansfield is a teacher at the Boys’ Central High School. Tommy has aspirations of attending Boys’ Central when he’s older.”

  Peggy settles back comfortably into her chair at the head of the table. “I believe you mentioned that mathematics is your area, Mr. Mansfield?”

  “Ah yes, Mrs. Barnes. I’ve taught mathematics at Boys’ for ten years now.” He accepts the bowl of mashed and sweetened turnips from Peggy.

  Tommy glances up from his plate, rolling his eyes when his mother looks away. But that disagreeable fate is a long time in the future, and the plate of roast chicken is in front of him now. His smile returns quickly.

  “And, Mr. Smith also has a background in figures. He’s an accounting clerk. What firm did you say you’re with, Mr. Smith? My father was an accountant with Hog Island Shipyards. He’s retired now.”

  “I was with Lybrand, Ross, and Montgomery for a few years, but now I’m out on my own.”

  “Mrs. Barnes, I see we have one empty spot at the table. Who might our third lodger be?” asks Mr. Mansfield.

  “Constable Joseph Kelly is with the Philadelphia police. Unfortunately, he has been detained this evening and won’t be joining us for dinner. You’ll have a chance to meet the constable at breakfast tomorrow.”

  Mr. Smith’s knife and fork slip from his hands and clatter against his plate. “A police officer
, Mrs. Barnes? Is that wise? With all the violence on the streets? Perhaps someone less notorious would have been more prudent?”

  “Why Mr. Smith, I think that having Constable Kelly in residence will enhance our safety, not detract from it.”

  Eugene Smith, his face flushed, gapes at Peggy. She lifts her chin and returns the stare. Eugene takes a breath and looks at his plate.

  “I’m sure you know best, Mrs. Barnes,” he says.

  After dinner, Tommy helps clear the table while Peggy fills the sink with sudsy water. They stand side by side, Peggy washing and Tommy drying. The first dinner was behind her; not quite as awkward as she’d feared. Even though, the anxiety of having outsiders in her home had made the dinner conversation stiff and formal.

  Jack would have welcomed everyone with open arms. By the end of dinner, they would have all been fast friends. But I am not Jack. I am… Oh heavens, I am my mother. No, I won’t let that happen. Tomorrow will be more relaxed. It will become normal to have three men at the table.

  “Mother, I’m waiting for another plate. You stopped washing.”

  “Oh, right. By the way, Oskar's mother came by today. She said Oskar hasn’t come home the past few nights. I told her I’d ask you if you’d seen him. Have you, Tommy?”

  “No, Mother.” He hoped she couldn’t hear his heartbeat. “Jimmy and me worked on our homework last night and Oskar wasn’t there.” He looks at his mother sideways.

  “Jimmy and I.”

  “That’s right. It’s what I said.”

  “Jimmy and I, not Jimmy and me.”

  “We were. Jimmy and I were doing our homework.”

  “Tommy, you’ve been wiping the same plate for ages. There’re lots more to be dried.” Peggy passes him a new one. “Oskar’s mother asked me to help look for him. I said I was too busy. Can you see me trooping around the neighborhood? And with the lodgers and my new responsibilities, I am too busy.”

  “But Mother, maybe you could help. Oskar’s one of my best friends. I told you, yesterday, he wasn’t at school, and he wasn’t there today either.” Tommy pauses, staring at the plate. “It’s not my fault he’s not at home, but maybe we should help look.”

  Peggy doesn’t reply, her hands in the sink.

  “Well, I’m going to help, even if you won’t,” he says. Tommy puts the plate in the cupboard and folds his arms.

  “Goodness, Tommy.” Peggy is shocked to hear her son talk back to her like this. No, this Oskar and his family are definitely not a good influence on my son. “Look, young man, I’m not sure I like your attitude. There will be plenty of people looking for the boy, including the police. I’m going to mention it to Constable Kelly myself when he comes home. But we should let the authorities and his family look after this. It’s best not to get involved.”

  Tommy scowls at his mother, the dishes forgotten. “What if he’s hurt, Mother? What if he needs help? What if something bad happened?”

  Peggy takes a breath and gets her bearings. Behind his scowl, she can see the worry in his eyes. She goes over and brushes some hair off his forehead, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “What’s all this then? Hurt? Needing help? Why would you say that? I’m sure he’ll turn up having been with his brother, up to no good no doubt. And when he does return, I don’t want you playing with him anymore. He’s from a wild family, and his father’s in jail. He is not a suitable playmate for you, Tommy.”

  Tommy shrugs off her hand and throws his dish towel on the table. “That’s not fair, Mother. Oskar is my best pal. You never do anything for my friends. Other mothers give us cookies and I get to play over at their houses all the time, but you never let them come here. I think you’re mean. Mean to me and my friends.” His lip is trembling and tears threaten to spill over.

  Peggy is rattled by his outburst. “That’s enough of that, Tommy. I think you have homework to do in your room, young man. Now march.” Peggy nudges him out of the kitchen. It’s a good thing that there are some proper gentlemen living in the house now. He needs a good role model.

  Tommy pouts, kicking the doorframe on his way out. “Tommy,” Peggy warns.

  "Yes, Mother.”

  Peggy is staring after Tommy when there’s a frantic pounding on the back door. Mrs. Leszek is standing on the porch. She’s been crying. “Mrs. Leszek. Is it Oskar?”

  “No Missus, Oskar no home yet. Does Tommy see Oskar?”

  “No, I asked Tommy and he hasn’t seen your boy, and doesn’t know where he is.”

  “Maybe I ask Tommy?”

  “No, I’m sorry but that’s not possible. He’s gone upstairs to do his homework. Goodnight now, Mrs. Leszek.” Her uneasiness over the altercation with Tommy transfers to the woman on her porch. I need her to leave before Tommy knows she's been here again.

  “Missus, we search tomorrow morning, first thing. I ask you again to help. Please?”

  Peggy imagines her mother lecturing on separation, position, and ‘those people’. But this is so important to Tommy; Oskar is a good friend, apparently. What would Jack think? Peggy hunches her shoulders against this reproachful chorus. It seemed that there would be no getting out of it. Enough already.

  “I’m not sure I can help canvass the neighborhood,” Peggy says with chilly dignity.

  She hears Tommy groan behind her. Through clenched teeth she says, “I can help make coffee and sandwiches for the searchers. I will have Tommy drop them off at your house in the morning.” There, that ought to keep everyone happy.

  “Thank you, Missus. That is good. Thank you.”

  Tommy rushes into the kitchen as Peggy closes the back door. He wraps his arms around his mother. “Thank you, Mother. I can help you make the sandwiches in the morning before I go to school.”

  Peggy hugs him back. “Well, I'm glad that Oskar is your friend, because you'll be sacrificing the leftover chicken for the cause. Now, off to your room, young man. Future students of Boys’ Central need good study habits. Especially when there’s a teacher from there living in the house.”

  Peggy listens to Tommy scamper up the stairs. She surveys the tidy kitchen and turns off the light. Tommy is happy. Jack would be proud.

  Chapter 7

  T ommy’s stomach churns as he knocks on the back door of Oskar's house. True to his word, he’d gotten up early to help make sandwiches. And he’d raided the newly filled cookie jar, stuffing a dozen oatmeal cookies into a paper bag—for the good of the cause. A large pot of coffee had been added to the wooden box.

  He’s not used to lying to his mother. And he’s pretty sure something horrible has happened to Oskar. He really doesn’t feel well. Wonders if he’ll throw up. Why didn’t Oskar come home that night? Maybe he took off with his brother or uncle? Maybe Mickey Duffy decided that he was old enough to start working for the crew? But if all that were true, wouldn’t he still be home to eat and sleep? Nope, as far as Tommy can tell, something is really wrong.

  Tommy knocks again, trying to balance the box. He chews on his lip and focuses on his shoes. Just as he decides he’ll leave the box, the door swings open to reveal a burly, bald man. “Yeah kid, whatcha want?”

  “My mother sent sandwiches and stuff for the searchers.”

  Oskar’s mother’s kitchen is crowded with people, but Tommy cannot see Mrs. Leszek.

  “Put it on the table, kid.”

  Several women stand by the sink, their gray, worried faces staring out the window. Oskar’s baby brother has been plopped on a blanket on the floor, banging a wooden spoon on an overturned tin. Next to him, a toddler chews on a toy car. At the kitchen table a trio of men are finishing bread and jam, and mugs of coffee. Smoke from a saucer of lit cigarettes curls toward the ceiling. Tommy recognizes Oskar’s oldest brother, Ernie. He’d been at the warehouse. If Ernie’s here and looking worried, then that for sure means that Oskar isn’t with Mickey’s crew. Tommy swallows hard. Yup, something bad.

  They stand as Tommy lowers the box of food. Ernie reaches in and grabs a cookie from the bag. “Th
anks,” he says.

  Coats are gathered as the men share plans for the search. “We’re off now. We're gonna try down by the tracks again, and talk to the yard bulls. Maybe they saw something.”

  “He really coulda jumped a train. Tryin’ to get to see his old man.”

  “He might be in another state by now.”

  “I’m sure he’s okay. You know kids.”

  “Keep up the prayers.”

  “Say, did anybody check the docks out on Hog Island? Maybe he went down to the water?”

  One of the women by the sink stifles a sob. The bald man goes to her and rubs her back. He makes soothing sounds and speaks to her softly in Polish, then he leaves. The kid on the floor whacks the baby. The baby wails. A woman takes away the wooden spoon, scoops up the baby and parks it on her hip.

  Tommy stands in the middle of it all, shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his pants. He looks to the women, hopeful for direction.