Mother Lode

  We. She was treating him like he was the man of the family now.

  The full implication of this news finally penetrated.

  I’ll never be able to go back to school. I’ll never be able to leave her.

  She was staring at him, waiting for his offer to stay and support them, while he sat numbly feeling he’d just consumed a meal of rocks.

  He searched feverishly for alternatives, but could find none. He heard the scream inside his head. What if he just ran off and left her to work it out?

  Pictures started rolling in, playing in his head. Like the player piano at the ice-cream parlor, he saw the brass pins with the little square holes turning unstoppably toward their certain end. Pictures of being trapped. The anguished face of a miner caught in a cave-in, squeezed to death by the pressure of rocks, flashed before him. He saw this in some sort of dizzy spin intermingled with flashes of his mother’s words, and all the time those little brass pins kept going round and round and wouldn't stop.

  Suddenly the front door which she kept locked was before him. He broke through the beveled glass with his fist, then kicked the bottom part again and again. When it refused to budge, he backed up, ran forward, ramming his body against the door. Five, six, eight times he did this before it finally yielded to his will.

  Heeding neither her screams nor those in his head, he pushed through it, feeling the visceral satisfaction of muscling this barricade, knowing for one brief moment, a taste of freedom. He ran across the veranda, around the house, and up into the familiar hills, where he’d so often sought peace.

  As he dashed up the muddy grade, he could see in the distance the towering smokestack discharging its black venom. To Jorie it was the apparition of a giant dragon whom the whole village feared, spewing its poison by day and by night.

  I’ll never be free. I refuse to live this way!

  Before him stood the silhouette of the great shafthouse; its peaked structures, each higher than the last, rose step-like toward the sky. With its enormous engines, belts and gears, it mastered everything below, standing sovereign over the whole village, and everything beneath it.

  Surely a leap from the top would end his misery swiftly.

  Jumping first onto a pile of snow-covered timbers near the building, he leaped to the roof of the lowest part. From there, with the aid of the thick rope hanging from the cupola, he continued upwards, scaling the whole series of slippery, steeply pitched roofs, while at each level, melting icicles crashed to the ground.

  Reaching the top he teetered on the crest, feeling the pull of the ground below.

  I need time to think!

  With shaking knees, he lowered his body, straddling the ridge. A downdraft brought the never-ending smoke from the towering chimney to his nostrils. A foggy web of ropes encircled him, holding him prisoner.

  He looked up through the smoke for the sisters, which had always comforted, anchored him, somehow. He found the stars, but the line was hazy, crooked. He couldn’t focus enough to make it straight.

  The roaring grind of the shaft belts reminded him of the colony of men working even now below the ground. How fortunate she’d said he was, to escape that fate. So much misery in all those tunnels and shafts crawling with life. But did anyone really escape it? He held his own dark tunnels inside, was as much a prisoner of this community as they. At least the miner could use dynamite, discharging outward what wanted to be released within.

  How could he live here, how could he leave here —this community she’d taught him to hate, that she wouldn’t let him quit.

  He threw back his head, spread wide his arms, and howled out his rage.

  The shafthouse, with its own dissonance of noise, devoured the impotence of his fury. Even his screams went unheard.

  I can’t. I can’t even do this!

  “I don’t know what got into him, Earl, to kick the door down like that. All he had to do was unlock it.”

  Catherine had summoned the sheriff and was relaying the incident over a cup of tea. She looked at the clock ticking away the night. Jorie had not yet come home.

  “He’s always been such a sensitive boy, thoughtful and caring. Lately, though, he’s been acting queerly.”

  “Of course the news about your . . . financial circumstances must have come as rather a shock.”

  Catherine nodded. “I think he was hoping to go back to school next year.” She turned to Earl. “But considering our reduced circumstances, it’s hard to believe he wouldn’t want to stay and look after us. It’s as though he can’t stand the thought of it.”

  She drained her cup. “And this is the boy who said he’d take care of me forever,” she added bitterly.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  She took his hand in hers. “Would you, Earl? He looks up to you, I know he does.”

  “Perhaps you’d best go up to bed, and leave him to me.”

  “Thank you. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate this.”

  When Jorie returned the gaping hole where the front door once stood now demanded that he buckle down immediately and set things right. It could not even wait until morning. Going round to the side of the house, he picked up what he needed and headed back to the veranda.

  The sheriff was waiting for him. Neither spoke. Jorie set the lantern down and positioned the first length of pine. Earl picked up a nail and the hammer, and pounded it in place. They worked silently in this fashion until the job was done.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  They walked ‘round the house, through the shed into the kitchen.

  “Are you going to arrest me, sheriff?”

  “Hadn’t planned to.”

  “Isn’t that why she called you?”

  “No. Let’s sit down.”

  They sat at the kitchen table.

  “Your mother’s upset. She knows you’re disappointed about school and thought –”

  “Why did she send for you?”

  “I believe she was frightened — by your behavior.”

  Jorie looked away.

  “What did you do when you left here?”

  “Ran.”

  “Where?”

  “Up by the mine.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I had to go somewhere.”

  “What did you do up there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Look, boy, now that you’ve had your temper, you do understand that the only sensible course of action, considering the circumstances, is for you to stay at home.”

  “To support her, you mean.” Ad infinitum.

  “There are hundreds of boys and men around here doing exactly the same, some of ‘em not more than fourteen years old. All those miners’ widows, most of ‘em looked after by their sons. Some grown men have been doing this for years. Can’t afford to get married.”

  Jorie saw blood on his hand, shoved it in his pocket.

  “I know about broken dreams, son. Had a few myself. But there’s a fresh bloom behind every drooping one. Things will open up for you here, things you haven’t even thought of yet. I hear you’re doing real well at the paper.”

  How could he explain that it wasn’t just his education that was at stake. It was his life. How could he tell the sheriff that he had to get away from her? That if he didn’t escape soon, the net would so entangle him that it would become impossible.

  “You can’t just leave her and the child to the poorhouse. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  It was getting hard to breathe.

  Chapter 26

  Jorie tried to keep an ominous reality at bay by imagining it wasn’t true. The situation was only temporary, and soon he’d be free to go wherever he wished. But even in his dreams it didn’t last. Sometimes she’d find him in another city, surround them both with the Golden Bubble, and bring him home. In the worst nightmares, he’d go back on his own. She’d smile in a strange sort of way, and lead him into her room. He’d crawl in bed beside her and
she’d pull him to her bosom the way she did when he was little, but this time he would suffocate. Or she’d tell him to fetch the blue jar, but it was he who was applying the balm to her.

  Each week he gave her the money he’d earned, keeping only a small amount for himself.

  “Jorie, you don’t know how much this means to me. What you’re doing for your mama and sister.”

  She held her cheek up to be kissed. “I’ll save it for you, for college.”

  He tossed his cap on the hook. “I’m going to go hear Mr. Lewis tonight, and write it up. See if old Abbot will buy it.”

  “You’re such a clever one. You’ll get ahead at the News. I know you will.”

  He changed the subject. “New York will begin service on its underground railroad this year.”

  “The world is advancing so. But Jorie, right here this summer, we’re going to have the Ringling Brothers Circus! Won’t that be exciting?”

  “I’ll take Eliza.”

  She picked up an envelope, and pushed it toward him.

  “Open it,” she said eagerly. “It’s from The Modern Journal of Poetry.”

  He tore open the envelope. “’We are pleased to inform you that we look forward to publishing your poem The Intruder in our fall issue. We would like to retain your other poems for future consideration.’”

  “There’s no check?”

  He shook his head. “‘We are a small press, unable to offer remuneration except as follows: We will send you five copies of the spring volume when the issue is printed in October.’”

  “Still, they accepted it, and maybe they’ll print the others later. Don’t look so disheartened, dear. You’re on your way, and I’ll be with you every step!”

  He’d been thinking about Pa’s ‘sizeable sum’ all afternoon. He wondered if he dared ask. Well, now was as good a time as any.

  “Ma, Pa said I’d get a sum of money when I turn eighteen.”

  He could see her stiffen.

  “Did he. . . did he leave me anything? Or was it part of that worthless stock?”

  “That money was not in stock certificates. It is intact, being held for you in trust.”

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Do you know how much it is?”

  “You will find out in the fullness of time.”

  “I want to know now.”

  She turned hard to him. “Are you thinking that when you turn eighteen you’ll just take that money and run, deserting your mama and sister?”

  “No! No, Ma. I feel obliged to support you, if Pa left you nothing. But if I get a scholarship I could go back to the University in the fall, and my inheritance could be used to maintain you and Eliza.” He thought this the perfect solution.

  She looked up at him in surprise, confusion. Finally, she said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. But I don’t think it would go very far. We’ll talk about it when the time comes.”

  “How much is it?”

  “The terms will be disclosed on your birthday.”

  “Tell me now!”

  “I don’t know! You’ve set my head spinning enough for one night, thank you!”

  Surely she knew, but he realized that if she didn’t care to divulge it, she wasn’t going to.

  Jorie started teaching Eliza to play little pieces on the piano. One day she turned to him. “Why doesn’t Henna come any more? Doesn’t she want to?”

  “We don’t have the money to pay her, Izzy.”

  “Can we go see her?”

  Jorie made some inquiries and found that the O'Laertys had moved to a better section of town. He was glad at least that their lot had improved.

  Three days later, on a lovely June afternoon, he took Izzy to visit Helena. He didn’t tell Catherine where he was taking her. He decided to just go, before she could say no.

  They took the new trolley as far as it went. That was an exciting treat in itself for the child, who’d never been on one.

  The neighborhood was certainly a vast improvement over the squalor of their previous living quarters. A well-kept, modest house with a small garden stood before them.

  A woman came rushing out of the house to meet them.

  “Jasus, Mary and Joseph, if it isn’t m’ darlin’ Izzy.”

  Eliza jumped into her arms. “Henna!”

  Picking her up and swinging her around, Helena cried, “It’s blessed I am to have ye back in my arms, lass. It’s sorely missed, you’ve been.”

  “Hello, Helena. Hope you don’t mind our popping in like this. Eliza’s been begging to see you.”

  “Mind, is it? I should think not in a thousand years. Come into the house and have yerself a rest.”

  While the kettle was on Jorie asked, “Are you doing all right, Helena?”

  “Better than all right.” She looked around her. “As you can see.”

  Jorie didn’t understand how this had come to be, but decided it wasn’t his place to inquire.

  “And what be yerself doin’ home from the big college?”

  “I’m not going back. Not this year.”

  Helena pursed her lips. “Is it your ma, then, won’t let you go back?”

  “She needs me.”

  “Aye, she always will.”

  Helena served tea and biscuits, and brought Eliza milk. “Come sit on my lap, my darlin’ lass. She puts me in mind of an angel in heaven, with her chestnut curls and innocent face.”

  “Why don’t you come to my house, Henna? Don’t you love me anymore?”

  “Oh, my precious darlin’, what put that into yer wee head?” She grasped the child to her bosom. “Of course I love you, and will to the end of time, dear child.”

  “Then why don’t you come?”

  Helena held the child away from her and looked straight into her eyes. “Because yer mummy told me not to. And that’s the long and short of it.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you, Eliza,” Jorie said, “Now hush about it.”

  Helena looked at the unhappy child. “I’ll tell ye a faery tale. Have ye heard the one about the faeries that raised the human child?”

  “No. Tell me that one.”

  When she had finished, Jorie asked, “How’s Mr. O’Laerty?”

  “Oh, himself’s doin’ grand. Daniel runs the Penny Whistle now, he does, Sean bein’ retired.”

  “I’m glad he was able to find work after. . .”

  “After he lost his arm in the mine, you mean. As himself would say, “He’s still got his drinking arm,” she laughed.

  When it was time to go Jorie stood up and thanked Helena for her hospitality.

  “So soon? Well, don’t make yourself a stranger. Come back and meet my Daniel.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  There was a clap of thunder.

  “It was so sunny when we came—”

  “Aye, the angels ‘ll be havin’ a pee now.”

  As they ran for the trolley Jorie couldn’t get over what a nice home Helena had. But how had she come by it?

  He first met Kaarina at the little book store, where she was an assistant clerk. Often in the late afternoon, after he’d awakened, Jorie would go for a walk, or peruse a book in this cozy warren, where a comfortable chair rested near the fire. He’d been reading about the creation of national parks, and had asked the young woman if she had anything else on this subject. He found reasons to return and engage her in further conversation. She was a Finnish girl, but he refused to let that deter him.

  She got off work at six, and he’d wanted to ask her out for some time. But he wasn’t accustomed to conversing with young females. Would he be able to keep up his end of a conversation?

  Nevertheless, one day he summoned up the courage to invite her to go for a walk. It was tea time, and he was embarrassed that he had no pocket money. So after a pleasant hour, he bid her good-bye, promising to see her again.

  The next payday he kept a little more money for himself. His mother stared down at the sum.

  “I can’t save anyt
hing for your future education on this, Jorie.”

  He wondered if she were saving anything, anyway.

  “I need some for myself.”

  He could see she tried to keep it light. “What are you up to?”