Mother Lode

  He held her closer. She looked up at him. Occasionally, he looked down into her upturned face, smiling self-consciously. Finally she rested her head on his chest. At least he didn’t have to look at her then, but he knew she must be able to feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. Why did he find her so soft and beautiful? She was his mother, for God’s sake!

  “Do you know how old I am, Jorie?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Take a guess.”

  He didn’t dare. What if he guessed too old?

  “Well, I’ll tell you this. I was only eighteen when you were born.”

  “Then you’re just twice my age.”

  He could tell that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Still only in your thirties,” he added. “That’s very young.” He could see she wanted more. He tried to keep it light. “You look grand, Ma. Now let me concentrate on the steps.”

  “A pity we can’t go to the dance with the band, but we’ll just make do with our private soiree, and our very own pianist,” she laughed.

  Well, he didn’t intend to make do. He decided he was confident enough now to suggest to Kaarina that they go dancing.

  “Oh, Jorie, I don’t know how!”

  “Then I shall have to teach you.”

  Chapter 27

  One evening, in the middle of her bedtime story, Eliza said, “Jawie, what are those things waving up there?” She pointed up to the corner. “They’re moving.”

  “Cob webs.”

  “I don’t like them.”

  A soft summer breeze coming through the open window caused them to billow and flatten. Jorie took a good look around her room. The walls and ceiling were dingy and dirty. He was sure it was the original wall paper, never redecorated as many of the rooms had been.

  “Would you like me to get them down for you?”

  “Yes.”

  He fetched a broom and came back to clear them away.

  Eliza’s fourth birthday was coming up and Jorie decided he’d like to re-paper her room for her.

  Catherine said, “We can’t afford it. Not with you spending half your earnings gallivanting around town with that tart.”

  “Stop it! I’ll not have you speak that way of her.”

  “I’ll speak of her any way I wish. Whatever charms she has, they’re dangerous, Jorie.”

  “Ma, you don’t know her at all. You’ve no right to speak of her that way!”

  “At least you could have found one of your own kind. Even birds know to find their own feather.”

  “Are you going to start in on that again?”

  He waited for her to simmer down. “I want to do something for Eliza’s room. It needs redecorating.”

  “Then paint it.”

  He asked Eliza what color she’d like. “Lellow. With ‘nanas and peaches on it.”

  He spent several evenings preparing the room — getting the old paper off, and plastering holes.

  When it was finished, Eliza said, “Jawie, it’s so pwitty!”

  Her exuberance was all the thanks he needed.

  Catherine said, “What in the world is that border of fruit doing up there?”

  “That’s what she wanted.”

  There was something else he wanted to do, and this required a trip to the cellar. Just descending into these depths brought back that dreadful memory. The late western sun streaked through the one small window, catching in its rays a galaxy of dust particles.

  Jorie was looking for his old rocking horse. In the storage corner, cobwebs and coal dust covered everything — an old wicker perambulator, now partially eaten by the mice, a barrel of Christmas decorations, bruised lampshades and a broken looking glass. He started moving boxes, crates, and sheets from the mysteries they concealed.

  The rocking horse was hiding under an old quilt. He pulled it from its covering, and as he gently moved it back and forth, he recalled his boyish fantasy of riding across the sky until he’d overcome the monster.

  He ran his hand over the smooth saddle. How polished it had become from all its rides. He noted the many chips in the paint, even on the left eye, giving it a strange blinded appearance. He hadn’t noticed any of this as a child.

  As he was leaving with it, his foot caught on a wooden crate. Something about the sound caused him to investigate. Inside, he found his mother’s china. Next to it were three more crates, each containing more members of the set.

  “I sold the china to get the player piano.”

  Jorie stood in the cellar, trying to piece the information together. It didn’t make sense.

  That evening he asked Catherine about it.

  “I was going to sell the china, and I had it all crated up, but when the player piano was delivered, and the man saw our old piano, he said he’d take that instead. He was taken by the rosewood cabinet, you see, and he gave me a bit of money besides.”

  He waited for her to continue.

  “I knew you might be disappointed that our old piano was gone, so I didn’t want to mention it right away, before you’d even heard the new one. That’s all.”

  “But why did you cart the china all the way down to the cellar?”

  “I told you, I already had it all crated up to sell, and we really don’t need it.” She stopped suddenly. “Jorie, I’ll not be questioned by you!”

  He was silent, but not satisfied.

  Since Eliza had chosen a color scheme of yellow and peach he decided to paint the horse with the same colors. As he sanded the worn wood, he thought of his father toiling to plan and build it from scratch. He wondered if it gave him the same satisfaction he was getting now by fixing it up for his little sister.

  On the morning of her birthday, Jorie unveiled his gift to her. He winced when he realized that she probably wasn’t really big enough for it, but he might be gone by next year, so this was the time for it.

  “Rock me, Jawie, rock me!”

  Her joy and cascades of laughter made it all worthwhile, made his sentence to this house bearable for a time.

  “What’s his name, Jawie?”

  “Pegasus.”

  “Peggythis.”

  “Kaarina, John Muir is coming here. I’m going to go, and write up a report for the News. Will you come with me, Friday evening?”

  All week Jorie was eager for Friday night. Two wonderful things on the same evening – hearing the famous John Muir and being with his girl.

  As they entered the auditorium, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the sheriff grinning at him.

  “Didn’t know you were interested in national parks, Jorie. Or are you here to cover the speech for the newspaper?”

  “Both, actually.”

  They jostled their way in and the three of them sat together. Jorie introduced the sheriff to Kaarina.

  “If I didn’t have my heart set on going back to Ann Arbor, I’d sure like to go out west and join John Muir,” he told them both.

  “I had a similar dream once—of going out west,” the sheriff confessed.

  Jorie glanced quickly at Mr. Foster. He thought the curtain had been parted on his life —but just as quickly it closed.

  “You have a lot of talent he could use— your knowledge of biology, skills in drawing and writing. That would be a great career for you.”

  “Maybe after I’ve finished my schooling.” He took in and let out a deep breath. “It’s a dream, anyway.”

  After Mr. Muir’s impassioned speech there was such a round of applause Jorie started a standing ovation. Then he nodded good-bye to the sheriff, grabbed Kaarina by the hand, and strode toward the podium, where Mr. Muir was entertaining questions.

  When it was his turn, he told John Muir flat out that he was a reporter, but also he would like nothing better than to follow in his footsteps.

  “There’s always room for young men with your enthusiasm.

  As he walked Kaarina home, he said, “I think when I’ve finished my education, I’ll join Mr. Muir out west. By golly, I thin
k I will.”

  He grabbed Kaarina and pulled her to him.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. He was thinking how he’d like to ask her to go to the University with him, or out west, or anywhere at all they both would like to be. But it was too soon to say any of these things out loud.

  He turned to her. “What about you? Are you making any headway in your savings toward Suomi?”

  “A little. Dreams can change along the way though.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining in the darkness. “But we should always have at least one, don’t you think?”

  He squeezed her hand. In the shadow of her side porch, he held her close to him, aware of the pleasant way her body shaped itself next to his. Finally, he kissed her good-night, and raced home, excited about everything.

  Life was good, after all.

  The next day his mother hinted that it was her birthday. For the first time ever he’d forgotten. Late that afternoon Jorie walked along the wooden sidewalk of Quincy Street where the nice shops were and looked in the jewelry stores. He didn’t have a lot to spend, and was surprised by how much everything cost. But he knew she’d felt badly about losing an emerald earring that matched her green outfits. He found a beautiful pair in Diemel’s Jewelers.

  “These are emeralds, but if that’s too rich for your budget, I have something similar in glass.”

  Although the design was somewhat different, he couldn’t tell the difference between them. Still, he wouldn’t want to tell his mother they were glass, and he wouldn’t want to lie, either.

  “If you like, I can arrange a payment plan.”

  “Then I’ll take the emeralds.”

  “Good choice.”

  It was a beautiful summer day, one so perfect, that in this land, folks savored such days, spending as much time outside as possible. He was whistling — happy with the gift he’d bought, savoring the mellifluous times with Kaarina, and beginning to feel that life was bearable even in the copper country. He didn’t know if he’d ever get away, but for now it was all right, and he had the satisfaction of knowing he was doing something for his family. Maybe Kaarina was right — dreams can change. He wondered if she were hinting that hers had, and she might be willing to follow him.

  Just then a familiar laugh caught his attention. Across the street he saw a woman on the arm of a man coming out of the Northwestern Hotel. He strained to make sure who it was, and who she was with. He stayed on his side of the street, following them for two blocks. Then the man hailed a cab. As they stood facing the street, Jorie knew. It was his mother, with Mr. Markel, the undertaker!

  He ran the rest of the way home in confusion. Why was she seeing this man? Why hadn’t she told him? And what were they doing in a hotel?

  She was home before he was, already preparing dinner. When he walked in she greeted him pleasantly.

  He asked, “How did you spend your birthday?”

  “Much like any other day. I was looking forward to having a nice dinner with you, Dear.”

  “Wasn’t the company of Mr. Markel enough for you?” It just came out.

  She stopped stirring the pudding.

  “I saw you, coming out of the Northwestern.”

  She gave him a big, innocent smile. “Mr. Markel invited me for lunch. I thought this might be a good day to take him up on it.”

  “Then why did you lie?”

  “I didn’t!”

  “You said you spent today much like any other. Do you see him every day at this ‘most commodious hotel’, as you call it?”

  “Jorie!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t your business. What are you doing — going around town spying on me?”

  “No. I was only there because you reminded me it was your birthday. I was buying your birthday present if you must know. Here!” He threw the box at her.

  “Good Heavens!”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you intimate with this man?”

  “Let go of me!”

  She pulled away from him, rubbing her arm. He realized suddenly what he was doing and raced upstairs. Some weeks before he’d installed a hook and eye on his door, presumably to keep Eliza out when he was sleeping. He used it now and threw himself on the bed.

  All of her teachings about honesty came ghost-like to ridicule him for being so naive. What of the Golden Bubble now, the sanctity of their relationship built on absolute trust and honesty? It all seemed a charade. With sudden clarity he saw that sacrifice for her wasn’t holy at all, but simply an indulgence of her selfish whims.

  Feelings of intense jealousy and rage filled him. Why had he stayed home, given up his own life to please her, if all the time her interests lay elsewhere? But why did he care? He knew those were the feelings of a jealous lover, and he had a romance of his own.

  He tried to get the picture of his mother in the arms of Mr. Markel out of his mind, but it kept coming back. Maybe they weren’t having that kind of relationship, but then what were they doing in the hotel? She’d said lunch, but it was almost four o’clock when they came out.

  Realizing how inappropriate his rage and jealousy were he was filled once more with self-loathing. He thought since he’d been seeing Kaarina that he’d gotten over his feelings toward his mother. He hated her for showing him he had not. Why had she hinted for the damn present! He wished he’d never gone downtown.

  Three times she came upstairs and knocked on the door, but he would not let her in. When he rose to go to work, she called to him, but he grabbed his jacket and left.

  In the morning when he returned, she was waiting for him in the kitchen.

  “Jorie, you can’t go on like this.”

  He stood at the window, watching a cardinal coaxing her little ones to leave the nest.

  “Will you look at me?”

  “I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday.”

  “Yes, you should be.”

  “I wish I’d saved my money.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  He turned to her. “Well, it didn’t turn out well, did it? Pity you reminded me about your birthday — I could still be ignorant of your amours.”

  “Jorie, it’s time you knew, I suppose, that Mr. Markel intends me to be his wife.”

  “You’re going to marry him?”

  Jorie’s head spun with this new information.

  She made her face take on the look of a girlish blush. “He’s asked me to,” she confided.

  “Are you going to?”

  “I suppose it would solve a lot of problems,” she sighed. “He is not without means.”

  A hodgepodge of feelings rushed through him.

  “Yes,” she continued. “I suppose you could say we are engaged.”

  “When is the wedding?”

  “I haven’t given him a date. Don’t rush me, Jorie.”

  When he left for Kaarina’s that evening, he decided he no longer need feel duty-bound to stay and support his mother. She was going to be married! Suddenly he felt as though the prison door had been unlocked. He was free, and it was time to get on with his own life.

  With a lighter step he jogged the rest of the way to Kaarina’s.

  Three weeks after the subject had first come up, Kaarina and Jorie were bound for their first dance. There had been no place of privacy for him to teach her any steps, but the pleasure of holding his sweetheart would make up for all of their awkwardness on the dance floor.

  “I’m sure a caller will give instructions for the reels. Let’s just go.”

  He whirled her around the room to waltzes, and tried to keep up with the cotillion. As they sipped on lemonade, the announcer was telling them to ready up for the ‘Tri-mountain Two-Step’. Jorie’d never seen Kaarina so happy.

  Stepping and stomping around the room, suddenly Jorie was face to face with Mr. Markel, who didn’t appear to recognize him. Jorie caught his breath and looked for his mother. But it was another woman whose hand he was holding. For the nex
t half hour, his eyes searched everywhere for Catherine, but always he saw Mr. Markel with the same woman.