While Father and Matti felled and skidded the larger birch for firewood, Mother and the girls scattered the branches across the soil. Once the leaves had dried, they set fire to the field. By rolling the smaller trees over the forest duff and beating the ground with flaming branches, they spread the fire through the whole clearing. Anna and Kari guarded the edge of the field and beat the ground with wet gunnysacks when the flames turned the wrong way.
No matter where Matti stood, smoke blew into his face and made his eyes water. His hands and clothes turned black, and his mouth tasted as if he’d been eating charcoal.
No one got a chance to rest until the fire began to die down toward evening. The whole family was coughing as they walked to the lake to wash up. When Anna and Kari pulled their kerchiefs from their heads, everyone laughed. They looked like sooty dolls with white dots for eyes.
Matti knelt by the shore and splashed water on his face. He watched the soot run down his arms in black rivulets. His muscles ached, and his head felt light.
Though the water had a fall chill to it, Kari slipped off her shoes and waded into the shallows. Anna joined her. “Don’t get your dresses …” Mother stopped. “I guess there’s no need to worry about getting these wet,” she said, stepping into the water, too. Father took off his boots and joined the ladies in the water. The girls giggled as Father stood in the lake wearing his pants and suspenders. Father flicked a palmful of water at Kari, and she splashed some back.
Suddenly war broke out, and everyone was splashing. Father crouched and swung his arm. Kari and Anna squealed as a wave hit them.
Mother turned and whipped her arms in a waterwheel motion, drenching both Matti and Father.
Father threw up his arms and hollered, “I surrender.” Then he dove under the water and tipped both girls over. Kari and Anna gasped as they bobbed back up.
By then they were so used to the water that they decided to take a swim. “This will save me lots of work at the washtub,” Mother said, pausing to wring out the hem of her dress.
Everyone was soggy but happy as they stepped out of the water. Except for their faces, which were red from being so close to the fire all day, a stranger could have taken them for a family of picnickers who had jumped into the lake on a lark.
CHAPTER 24
With the coming of the first real cold, Father and Matti carried the wood range into the sauna and ran a stovepipe out the window. Yrjo moved in with the stove, and no matter how hot the fire got, he took his naps right under the oven. When he stepped outside, steam rose off his body from nose to tail.
School was going better all the time at the Saaris’. Since Mrs. Saari was good at teaching math, Matti mainly concentrated on English. By reading the newspapers over and over again, and practicing their spelling in the sand trays, the boys were soon getting good enough at their reading to pronounce the easy words themselves. Though the girls and Tapio were the best readers, Matti always made sure that Ahti and Ukko got a turn when they were reading out loud. Anna and Kari had given up trying to warn Matti about things in the paper that “weren’t proper,” because the boys had a gift for finding every story about a criminal, a wagon accident, or a wedding dance brawl.
Matti was beginning to appreciate the different personalities of the boys, too. Little Ukko had turned out to be a nonstop talker who showed amazing mental quickness for a six-year-old. His specialty was math. The middle boy, Ahti, was a great practical joker who enjoyed making up riddles and rhymes. Ahti made Matti solve a new riddle every time he saw him. His latest was “Who can marry a hundred women and still be a bachelor?” Even though Matti knew the answer was a minister, he pretended to be stumped. The eldest boy, Tapio, liked it when Matti called him his teaching assistant.
One afternoon when Matti returned from a session at the Saaris’, the girls ran off to play. Mother and Father were inside at the table. Mother had a pencil in her hand, and she was shaking her head. “I don’t see any other way.”
“Other way for what?” Matti asked.
“We’ve been talking money,” Mother spoke quietly. “And things don’t look good.”
“What about my salary from the store?”
“It helps, but we still come up short,” she said.
Father said, “I’m applying for work over at Camp twenty-three.”
“But that must be fifteen miles away,” Matti said.
“I can ski home every Sunday,” Father said. “In the meantime, you’ll have to be the man of the house.” Father slid his chair back. “We’d better check on Maude and Katie before dark.”
Matti was suddenly angry. Was Timo right in calling Father a flighty dreamer? Father had insisted on building his cabin in the middle of this stump-ridden wilderness. And now he was going off and leaving his family alone?
On the way to tend the animals, Matti tried to convince Father not to go, but he only quoted an old proverb: “We live as we can, not as we wish.”
Matti’s face grew hot. Why couldn’t Father talk in straightforward sentences and tell him how he truly felt, as Uncle Wilho always had? Why did he always have to repeat his silly old sayings? But before Matti could say anything, Father added, “A winter of logging won’t be so bad. I’d rather fell a few trees for a lumber company than go back to tenant farming.”
Maude brayed when she heard them coming, and Father whistled back. “It did feel rotten to be called Perälä all those years we worked on the Perälä estate,” Matti said. Though Matti and Father had always been known as Ojalas to their relatives and close friends, the official town records listed them as Peräläs.
Father chuckled and said, “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the folks in Sampo Township calling me Leo Camp twenty-three.”
On the morning that Father left, the starlight was silver blue. The girls were still sleeping when he shouldered his pack and kissed Mother goodbye. Matti walked down the driveway with him. An owl hooted in the swamp as Father paused to test the corduroy logs of the road with his boot. “We bedded these solid, Matti,” he said. “I know I’m leaving the place in good hands.”
Matti listened to Father’s footsteps as he disappeared down the dark shadowed road. The scent of balsam tingled in his nostrils. He felt cold and alone. After doing Timo’s work all summer, now he would have to do Father’s jobs as well. Where would he find the strength? In the last year he’d lost his home in Kuopio, his grandparents, his best friends, his uncle, and his aunt. Maybe even Timo. What if Father never returned?
As Matti started back down the driveway, a mule’s harsh bray told him that his worries would have to wait. For now there were chores to do.
From the time Matti finished carrying hay and water for the mules until the moment he brought in the last armloads of firewood for the night, he barely had a chance to catch his breath. In addition to his regular jobs, Mother decided that the ashes needed to be cleaned out of the stove. And once the stove had cooled, she looked at him and said, “We may as well take the stovepipe apart and clean that, too.” Matti only spilled a little soot when he took the pipe apart, but that was just enough to extend their cleaning project to include the entire cabin. And once the beds were carried outside, Mother decided that this would be the perfect day to restuff them with dried cattail fluff— a lining that Mrs. Saari had recommended as warmer and softer than hay.
It took the second half of the day to gather the cattail tops, shred them, and sew them into the ticks. When bedtime finally arrived, the girls helped spread the beds across the floor. Matti was so tired that he expected to fall instantly asleep, but he lay for a long time. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong until Kari finally called from the corner, “Why is it so quiet?”
Then Matti knew what the problem was. “You miss Father’s snoring,” he said, amazed that the newfound quiet could leave them all so uneasy.
Only two days later Matti and the girls were behind the sauna laying hazelnuts on a rock ledge to dry. It was a clear, cool day, and the lake had just froze
n over. Mother was inside preparing lunch, and Wilho was perched on the roof. After watching the girls for a while, Wilho flew down and dropped a nut into the sack they had just emptied. Kari and Anna thought it was funny, but when Matti remembered Wilho’s “help” during the strawberry planting, he said, “Bad crow.”
Wilho cawed and sat back to watch. A few minutes later he flew down again. Matti was about to yell at him, but instead of grabbing for a hazelnut, Wilho chased off a squirrel that was sneaking toward the rock.
As the squirrel chattered away, Anna said, “Good crow,” and she started for the sauna. A few minutes later Wilho glided toward the lake.
He flew back, cawing loudly, and swooped down to pull at Kari’s hair ribbon. Before Matti could yell, Wilho wheeled toward the lake, cawing and trailing the ribbon behind.
Matti expected Kari to cry. Instead she stared after Wilho. “Anna’s in trouble,” she said, running toward the lake. Just then Black Jack’s warning about Anna flashed into Matti’s mind.
Matti dashed after Kari. When he reached the shore, the ice was an unbroken mirror of blue. Matti followed Wilho’s flight until he saw what he most feared—a fractured place offshore. As Matti scrambled down the stony bank, he was stunned. Why would cautious Anna ever do something so dangerous?
The jagged hole was only twenty feet from the bank, but there was no sign of his sister. “Anna,” he yelled, looking up and down the shore. “Anna,” he yelled again, stepping onto the ice. How could this happen so soon after Father had left the family in his trust!
The ice sagged as Matti inched toward the hole. Mother joined Kari on the shore and shouted, “No, Matti,” but he knew there was no time to waste. When Matti got to the edge of the hole, he leaned forward and peered into the water. He couldn’t see anything, so he turned and yelled, “Get a branch.”
The ice broke. Mother and Kari screamed as Matti went under. The water was so cold that it burned his face and shocked the breath right out of him. His head ached from the sudden chill, but he forced his eyes open.
The bottom of the lake was photograph clear. Brown weeds stood like dead corn plants in a windless field. Matti looked toward the green depths, but there was no sign of Anna. He surfaced and took a gulp of air.
Ignoring the shouts, he dove back under and turned toward the shallows. His eyes hurt from the cold. He pulled hard with his arms, wishing he’d kicked off his boots so that he could swim better. Sunlight brightened the pebbled bottom near shore. Matti’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes scanned left and right.
When Matti finally saw Anna, his air was almost gone, but he dug his boots into the bottom and pushed forward. Anna’s eyes were closed tight. Her lips were blue and half parted. Matti touched Anna’s hand and pulled her toward him, knowing he didn’t have enough air to make it back to the hole.
The world turned red as Matti planted his feet and pushed upward. The ice didn’t budge. Squatting lower, he braced himself and pushed up with his shoulders and back. The ice crackled as he broke through. Matti took a big gulp of air and reached down to pull Anna up. At the same time Mother ran forward, breaking more ice and helping him to shore. Matti fell to his knees, gasping. Mother turned Anna over onto her belly and slapped her back. Nothing happened. She lifted her arms and slapped twice more.
Matti shivered as a gust of wind blew across the bare ice. Just when it seemed as if there were no hope, Anna coughed. Water and mucous spurted out of her mouth and nose. “Go put some wood in the stove, Kari,” Mother said. Wilho cawed as Kari ran.
Mother pulled a tick in front of the stove and bundled Anna in a quilt. Anna’s lips were still blue, and the only way that Mother could stop her trembling was to hold her in both arms. Kari stayed beside her sister and squeezed her hand the whole time.
Matti couldn’t believe how quickly Anna’s color returned. In a few minutes she sat up and said, “Why is it so hot in here?”
All at once Mother’s strength melted away, and tears began pouring down her face. As Mother wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, both girls hugged her and said, “Don’t cry, Mother, please don’t cry.”
By suppertime the following evening, Mother noticed that Anna looked flushed. “Lord sakes.” She touched her forehead. “You’re burning up, child.”
Mother put Anna to bed and made her a cup of rose-hip tea. Through the evening Matti and Mother and Kari took turns holding a cool cloth on Anna’s face, but her fever got higher.
By the next morning Anna was even worse. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dull and listless. Kari and Matti tried to cheer her up, but she was too tired to do anything but moan.
Mother turned to Matti. “You’d better get Mrs. Saari.”
Matti ran down the trail, driven by a fear that no one dared mention. A fever like this had killed his baby sister Senja two winters ago. They’d just returned from the Sunday races on the lake. Little Senja had cheered the galloping horses with their steaming nostrils and their tails flying straight back. A fever set in the next day, and a week later Mother and Aunt Hilda were washing Senja’s body in the sauna, preparing for the funeral.
Matti found Mrs. Saari in the barn. She lowered her eyes and whispered good morning. Her shyness vanished at his news. She called to Tapio, “Finish the milking. I’m needed at the Ojalas’.” Then she turned and said, “Tell me what happened.” As Matti explained the accident and how long Anna had been sick, she packed her supplies in a cloth bag.
Mrs. Saari took control as soon as she and Matti arrived at the Ojalas’. She touched Anna’s forehead. Then she looked into her eyes and felt her pulse. Turning to Mother she said, “The best place to heal is a steam room.”
“What can we do?” Mother asked.
“Some hot water would help,” Mrs. Saari said, slipping off her coat and sweater, “and Matti can stoke the fire.”
Mrs. Saari prepared a poultice that smelled of tar and mustard. Then she took out tiny horn cups that were polished to a jewel-like sheen and her razor. Kari gasped when she saw the razor, but Matti signaled that she shouldn’t worry Anna.
“More wood,” Mrs. Saari ordered Matti.
Once the water was warm, Mother helped Mrs. Saari wash Anna’s arms and neck and chest. The temperature in the room rose as the fresh wood crackled. Anna’s upper body was soon flushed as bright as her feverish forehead.
“We’re ready,” Mrs. Saari whispered. She reached for her razor and a cup. Kari buried her face in Matti’s shoulder as the bright blade cut a slit in Anna’s forearm. “Now to pull out the bad humors,” she said, applying the cup to the fresh wound and catching the blood in a small glass jar.
Twice more she made cuts and caught the thick droplets. “There,” she said, holding a compress in place, “she should be fine now.”
To finish up, Mrs. Saari tied the mustard-and-tar poultice over Anna’s chest. Anna had lain silent the whole time, but now she coughed and wrinkled up her nose. “What’s that smell?” she said.
As everyone chuckled, Matti could see tears welling up in Mother’s eyes.
CHAPTER 25
The following Saturday Mrs. Winston asked Matti to stop by Black Jack’s and deliver a plug of chewing tobacco on his way home. Before Black Jack said hello, he asked, “How’s young Anna doing?”
Black Jack nodded as Matti told him about the accident. Matti was about to ask how he’d known about Anna when he noticed that Black Jack was loading his packsack.
“You’re leaving?” Matti asked.
“It’s time to head for the lumber camp.” Black Jack paused to spit into his lard can. “The ice roads will be ready for hauling any day now. That means they’ll need their dentist on the job.”
“Dentist?” Matti frowned.
“That’s the name they give to the fellow who sharpens the saw teeth.”
“Sometimes English makes sense,” Matti said.
Black Jack picked up his still unfinished violin from the table and wrapped it in a cloth. “I’ll have the whol
e winter to polish up this little lady,” he said. “The wood will season with some good hard playing, and her music will get sweeter by the day.”
Matti said goodbye to Black Jack, realizing for the first time that he would actually miss the old fellow.
“Thank Miss Clara for the tobacco,” Black Jack said, “and you remind her that even if the winter gets tough in this country, the spring is pretty enough to make the wait worthwhile.”
After his heroic help with Anna’s rescue, Wilho led a pampered life. Anna was especially grateful to him. Though Yrjo became jealous, Anna talked to Wilho all the time, and she saved special treats for him after every meal. Wilho puffed out his feathers and lifted his beak in the air at every compliment.
As proud as Wilho was, Matti noticed that he was getting more restless every day. Late one afternoon a noisy flock of crows roosted in a grove east of the sauna. They called to Wilho, and he cawed back from his perch on the sauna roof. When Matti stepped outside to get an armful of firewood the next morning, the flock flapped out of the treetops and headed south. Wilho flew along with the crows until they reached the far shore of the lake. Then he wheeled to return to the homestead as he always did.
Swooping low, Wilho cawed three times. When Matti waved, he cawed again. But instead of landing on the roof as Matti expected, Wilho turned back toward the flock. Matti watched Wilho ride the sky, working his way higher and higher. Only when the flock was the tiniest of black specks did Matti let his eyes drop. He was happy for Wilho, yet he would miss him, too.
“It looks like our crow has found some friends.” Mother had been watching from the steps.
Matti nodded.
“Your aunt Hilda once told me that everything in this world happens for a purpose,” Mother said, her eyes still fixed on the sky. “Maybe Wilho’s purpose was to stay long enough to help Anna.”
Matti looked at the horizon. Above the farthest ridge of rock-rooted pine, the sky was blue and empty. “Like it was Uncle Wilho’s purpose to help us move to this country,” Matti thought out loud.
Song of Sampo Lake Page 12