Matti stared at him. “Timo…,” he said slowly. He’d never imagined that his brother might feel like this. He’d never thought about what Wilho’s death had been like for Timo.
Timo reached to pull out his watch, but it was gone. He stood up and blinked. “What time is it?”
“Going on six-thirty.”
“Nooo,” he groaned. “I’m supposed to be at the mine. Maybe I can catch a ride with that wagon.” The fellows who’d been laughing at him had just started down the road. Timo took a few quick steps then trotted back. “Thanks,” he said, handing Matti the water glass. “And I’d appreciate your not saying anything about this.”
Matti had one of his busiest days ever at the store. He waited on customers and carried orders out to wagons nonstop. When several Finnish fellows showed up at once, Mrs. Winston decided to wait on one of them. He was a cranky fellow named Risto Ryti.
Matti was impressed to hear her say “Good morning” in Finnish. Though she’d been practicing a few words, she’d never tried them on a customer before. Risto stared at her funny, but he gave her his order. Things went well until she handed him his sack and said, “Bless you.”
Risto puffed out his chest and said, “Bless yourself.”
He marched out the door, leaving her nearly in tears. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I’ve heard lots of farmers say that to you.”
“Mr. Ryti is a Socialist. He doesn’t like to be blessed.”
“But—”
“Most people think that Finns are all alike,” Matti said. “But we pride ourselves on being independent thinkers. My neighbor back home had two sons. One was a minister and one an atheist, but every Sunday they sat down to family dinners together.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t want anyone saying that everyone from St. Paul is the same,” she said. “My Summit Avenue neighborhood is as far removed from this little store as Paris is.”
Matti tried to think of something to cheer her up. “But there is one thing that all Finns have in common,” Matti said.
She raised her eyebrows. “And pray tell, what might that be?”
“It’s called sisu. Let me tell you about it.”
CHAPTER 19
Once the rye was sown and the last of the potatoes were planted, Father said, “If we work fast, we can have the fireplace in our sauna done by Midsummer’s Eve.”
“Don’t we deserve one day off?” Matti asked. He wanted to say, “Why should I have to work so hard when Timo is doing nothing?” but Father said, “There’ll be time enough to rest in the grave. Besides, a sauna cures a man better than a doctor or a drugstore.”
To build the hearth for their savusauna, Father selected rocks from the piles at the edges of the field, while Matti carried buckets of sand and water to mix the mortar. Together they fitted the rocks in place for the firebox and smoothed the joints with their fingers.
“Now for the kiuas” Father said, referring to the smooth, round stones that were piled on top of the firebox and splashed with water to make steam. When Anna and Kari volunteered to help gather the stones, Father said, “These must be strong enough to pass the test of fire and water.” He rejected three stones for every one that he pronounced fit, but Matti had the girls pretend that it was a treasure hunt.
Next Matti and Father built three cedar benches at the end of the room. Father planed the top of each bench and rounded the edges with a rasp. Working with slow, steady strokes, Father said, “In the sauna a man must conduct himself as he would in church.”
“You’re not going to take a sauna in the house we’re sleeping in?” Mother asked.
“Midsummer’s Day only comes once a year.”
“What about our beds and dishes?”
“For one day we can store them outside. Right, Matti?”
Matti nodded. Back in Finland, Midsummer’s Day celebrated the longest day of the year. To bring good fortune, birch wreaths were hung in windows and laced to the horns of cows. At midnight the townspeople gathered by the shore of Kallavesi and lit a huge bonfire. Then they sang and danced until dawn.
Kari yelled, “We’re going to have a sauna party,” and she ran to tell Anna.
The final job was to cut the savuluukku, or smoke hole, in the gable and fit it with a small door. “Now we must invite our neighbors,” Father said. On Saturdays back home Father needed only to call “The bath is ready” across their stone fence to fill the sauna with friends. Father never missed his weekly savusauna. Though it made Mother angry, Father called the sauna his private chapel. “It’s better than a real church because there are no noisy ministers to interrupt my prayers.”
Father sent Matti to invite the Saaris and Black Jack. Everyone was pleased by the invitation. Mrs. Saari offered to bring a kettle of soup and some black bread. When Black Jack asked if he could bring some food, Matti told him, “Your company is all we want.”
On Midsummer’s Eve morning Father said, “The honor is yours,” and handed Matti the matches. Back home it had been Matti’s job to keep the fire stoked all day Saturday so that the Kiuas would be hot by evening. Matti opened the smoke hole and lit the birch bark and kindling. Though he crouched low and tried to hold his breath, there was no way to feed the fire without gulping smoke.
When Father inspected the fire later on, he nodded his approval. “By supper it will be hot enough to cook an egg in my hand.” Father took soaked birch boughs out of a pail to make vihtas, or whisks, to slap the skin and increase circulation. Just as Father began tying the boughs, Matti heard a familiar voice: “Do you use a special knot to tie those vihtas?”
“It’s Timo,” Kari shouted, and she and Anna ran forward to greet him. Mother put her head out the door.
“And what brings us the honor of such a visit?” Father asked.
“I know I’ve let you down, Father.” Timo spoke more softly than usual. “But the mine had me shaking so bad I couldn’t stand it. Every time a chunk of ore dropped, I thought of Wilho. That rockfall was meant for me, you know.”
“Don’t say that,” Mother said, giving him a hug.
“It’s the truth,” Timo said. “But I’ve hired on as a wagon driver in Tower now. It feels so good to be out in the air again.”
Timo brought a letter from Aunt Hilda. She’d joined a theater group back in Kuopio, and she was also working for a suffragette organization. Hilda thought they had a good chance of winning women the right to vote in the next few years. As Mother read the letter, Matti wondered if it was wrong of Hilda to be so busy so soon after Wilho’s death. But maybe that was the only way Hilda could fight off her sadness.
After the Saaris and Black Jack arrived, everyone shared a supper down by the lake. Along with her black bread and soup Mrs. Saari also brought fresh buttermilk. Black Jack’s conduct was unusually polite, though he scared Anna when he asked, “Why are you so quiet? Have pirates cut out your tongue?”
After supper Matti doused the fire in the sauna. Once the smoke purged, he rinsed the soot from the benches and closed the luuku to hold in the heat. While the ladies took their sauna, the men built a bonfire down by the shore. As Father piled the fire high, Black Jack and Mr. Saari told about Midsummer celebrations of their youth. Black Jack pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and offered the men a drink. Everyone took a sip except Timo, who winked at Matti and said, “I swore off the stuff after I had a bad fall the other day.”
“That’s a gentleman’s choice,” Black Jack said. “Maybe we should liven things up with a little fire leaping.”
Just then Mother returned to veto the idea. “Scalding oneself,” she said, “is not my idea of livening things up, sir.”
“But wouldn’t you like to see a peg-legged lumberjack leap a bonfire, Mrs. Ojala?” Black Jack offered.
Matti could tell that Mother smelled whiskey on the men, but she only said, “The sauna is all yours, gentlemen.”
As soon as Black Jack took off his clothes, he hobbled to the water pail and splashed a dipperful on the hot rocks. A r
ush of steam hit Matti. Then Black Jack climbed to the top bench and said, “Throw on another dipper.”
“Are you sure?” Father asked.
“I’ve got to make up for lost time,” Black Jack said. “I haven’t had a sauna since I hiked up to Ely last spring.”
When Father poured on more water, the steam was so hot that Matti and Timo had to cover their faces with wet cloths, but Black Jack was all smiles. “We sure fit these joints tight,” he said, running his finger between the logs. “Say, Mutti Boy,” Black Jack continued, “have you heard about the Finnish farmer who was famous for taking hot saunas?” Matti could tell that Father was disturbed, because he liked it quiet in his sauna.
When Matti shook his head, Black Jack said, “One day the devil got jealous and invited that farmer to try the fires of hell. The moment he passed through those smoky gates, he started smiling. Every time the devil threw more coal on the fire, the farmer bowed and thanked him. Finally the devil cursed and ordered him out of hell, saying that he and his kind would be unwelcome in Hades forever after. So—”
“So,” Eino Saari interrupted, “that’s why every Finnish farmer is guaranteed a place in heaven.”
“You’ve heard the tale?” Black Jack chuckled.
“My father used to tell me that story when I was little and I didn’t want to take a bath,” Eino said.
Black Jack grinned a devilish grin and said, “Toss me a vihta.” His shiny clean face looked almost handsome.
CHAPTER 20
On the second Saturday in August, Matti was weighing a sack of horseshoe nails when a familiar voice interrupted him. “How’s the life of a storekeep?” It was Timo. “I’d like to introduce a friend of mine.” To Matti’s surprise a beautiful girl was extending her hand. “Ida,” Timo continued, “meet my brother, Matti.” Ida’s white-blond hair was tied back with a blue kerchief that matched her eyes.
Matti wiped his hand on his apron and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Matti,” she said. “My uncle speaks highly of you.”
“Your uncle?” Matti asked.
“He trades here all the time. His name is Arvid Koski.”
“He’s a fine man,” Matti said.
The three of them chatted for a few minutes about Matti’s work at the store and Timo’s new wagon-driving job. Then Timo said, “We’d better be heading back to Tower. I need to return my boss’s wagon.” As Timo turned to leave, he said, “Let’s keep this between you and me?”
Matti nodded. Why would Timo want to hide Ida from anyone? If Matti ever had a girlfriend, he would want the whole world to know. But he was proud that Timo was willing to share his secret with him.
As the summer drew on, new leaf growth filled in the trees, and rain washed away the caterpillar droppings. Berry picking kept the whole family busy. They’d barely finished canning the last of the strawberries and raspberries by the time the blueberries ripened.
In their spare time Father and Matti continued to plow new ground. “If we get a head start on next year’s planting,” Father said, “we should have a few extra bushels of rye and oats to sell.”
Matti’s time at the store was a vacation compared to the work he had to do at home. One Saturday, at the invitation of Mrs. Winston, Matti brought Mother and the twins along. Though the walk tired Anna and Kari, Mrs. Winston perked them up when she said, “Could I interest either of you in a cinnamon stick?”
Since Anna and Kari were used to Mother’s plain gray dresses and her kerchiefs, they stared in wonder at Mrs. Winston’s deep blue dress (Matti was glad that she hadn’t worn Mother’s brooch as she sometimes did). They admired her high-piled hair and pearl comb. Despite the difference in their styles, with Matti to translate Mother and Mrs. Winston talked warmly with each other. Mother inquired about the summer trade at the store, and Mrs. Winston asked about the prospects for fall crops. Both ladies were glad that the caterpillar invasion was over. After Mother had finished her shopping and was ready to go home, Mrs. Winston stuck some licorice in a bag as a treat for Anna and Kari.
Later that afternoon Matti was walking home when a voice startled him. “Hey there, Mutti Boy.” It was Black Jack, returning from the river with his fishing pole. “How about a cup of coffee?” Before Matti could think of an excuse, Black Jack had started up the trail. He had no choice but to follow.
Black Jack’s house was smellier than ever. As Matti bent to pet Louhi, he looked at the table. “Your violin’s almost done.”
“No, not nearly,” he said. “Though the pieces are matched and glued, I’m only halfway there. The final shaping and finishing is what takes the time. And then it takes some good hard playing to mellow the sound.”
Matti said, “I never heard the rest of your story. What happened after you left your uncle’s house?”
Black Jack leered as if he were going to make a wisecrack, but stopped. “You remember how my uncle broke that hoe over my back?”
Matti nodded.
“After I lit out, I wandered from village to village, begging for crusts of bread. Winter came. I slept in haystacks and ditches. One night I froze my foot. It turned black and the skin broke open, but I had no money to pay for a doctor. By the time a kind minister offered to help me, it was too late.
“After I recovered from the operation and got fitted with my first stump, that same minister lined up a job for me in a charcoal factory near Oulu. I worked in the plant for five years, doing my best to learn the business. I even got promoted twice. I was renting a room from a nice widow lady. She was the one who gave me the name Black Jack, because my face was always covered with charcoal dust.
“I hadn’t had any visions for a long time. Then one night I had a dream that a fire was going to start in the plant. I went straight to the foreman, but he said I was crazy and refused to tell the boss. Later that week a fire burned down the factory. I felt awful for not going directly to the boss. The real shocker came when the foreman accused me of setting the fire. He went for the police, and I ran. I wanted to tell the truth, but I was afraid of being put on trial for a crime I didn’t commit. So I took my small savings and left for America.”
Matti stared at Black Jack. “I can’t believe a man could be that wicked.”
“There’s plenty of meanness in this world,” Black Jack said, “but I figure everything has turned out for the best. There’s no way I could have owned property like this in Finland.” He waved his hand toward the lake. Then Black Jack changed the subject. “So is Wee Willy Winston learning you anything at the store?”
“I’m picking up a few things,” Matti said, smiling at the thought of how upset Billy would be if he knew Black Jack called him Wee Willy.
“And how’s my pretty Clara?”
“I’m not sure.” Matti paused. “She seems lonely sometimes.”
“I feared that,” he said. “Her first winter is going to be tough. When a lady’s used to bright lights and big cities, it can get mighty bleak and cold out here.”
“Does it snow a lot at Sampo Lake?”
“No more than in town,” Black Jack said. “But the drifting is a lot worse. When a wind gets to kicking out of the northwest, it buries this place good.”
On his way home Matti recalled the snowdrifts last winter that had covered up the first-floor windows of Aunt Hilda’s house in Soudan. If the weather was more brutal out here, how would Clara Winston ever stand it?
CHAPTER 21
Since Father and Matti wouldn’t be able to clear a hay field until the next year, they cut wild hay for the mules in the river meadow. They started at dawn, when the grass was still damp and easy to cut. Father began by pulling a file from his pocket. “A dull tool makes the work go twice as hard,” he said as he sharpened two short-handled sickles. Then he made a quick pull through the grass. The stems fell in a neat row. Leaning over to drink in the scent, he said, “There is nothing sweeter than dew and fresh-cut grass.”
When they stopped for a midmorning break, Matti’s back ached. “It’s to
o bad we don’t have long-handled scythes,” he said.
As usual Father answered with a proverb: “Even the greatest king must learn to kneel.”
Matti groaned. Father’s constant good humor was almost as bothersome as Timo’s incessant complaining had been. Matti wished that just once Father would admit a job was hard.
After sunrise it turned hot, but there were too many horseflies for Matti to work without his shirt. Bits of grass stuck to his neck and arms. “Itching will only make it worse,” Father said, but Matti scratched between his shoulder blades and pulled at his shirt. At noon Mother and the girls arrived with a picnic lunch and a jar of warm coffee.
When Anna saw the long rows of cut hay, her eyes got big. “Are Maude and Katie going to eat that much in one winter?” she asked.
“That and a good lot more,” Father replied. “And if it gets real cold this winter, Mother is going to stretch our rations by boiling up some hay soup for you two young fillies.”
“Yuck.” Anna wrinkled up her nose. But Kari pranced up and down the rows. “Look, Father! Anna and I are ponies.”
It took two days to cut the meadow. While that hay dried, Father and Matti hiked to the railroad and cut more hay along the tracks. Timo stopped by on Sunday and helped for most of the day. Matti was impressed that his eyes were still clear and sober.
After the hay had dried, Father made two rakes with long spruce handles and wooden teeth. Then they raked the hay into piles, and Father rigged carriers out of birch saplings and wire. With these “harnesses” slung over their shoulders, the whole family helped with the hauling. Father heaped a mound of hay on top of Kari first. When she walked off with hay hanging all the way to the ground, everyone started laughing. “What’s wrong?” she said, turning to face them. They laughed all the harder. Though Matti could hear her voice, her face was totally hidden. “You look like a sheepdog peering through a long mop of hair,” Matti said.
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