Matti recalled the fallen popple that Louhi always jumped over when he ran to greet him. If he could find that tree, the cabin would be close. He skied forward, stopping every few feet to shield his eyes and peer to the east. His morning ski tracks had already drifted over, but he did his best to stay on the trail. Just when he was about to give up hope, Matti saw the hazy outline of the downed popple. He took off his skis and stuck them upright in the snow. Then he stepped over the trunk. Using his poles as a blind man would, he tapped at the brush on both sides of the path and stumbled forward. If he stayed on the path, he should have less than two hundred yards to go.
Only a few minutes later, Matti was scared. Had he veered too far south and walked past the cabin? Why hadn’t he thought to count his paces? He’d just decided to backtrack to the popple and start over when he saw a hazy shape to his right. He took a step forward; then he ran. He had never been so happy to see Black Jack’s filthy shack.
Though it was cold inside the cabin, as soon as he closed the door and blocked the wind, the air felt warm. He stood for a moment and caught his breath. He listened to the icy flakes hitting the door. The wind rattled the birch bark on the roof, and it whistled through the stovepipe.
Black Jack’s table was still littered with sawdust and tools and old catalogs. His pot, crusted with the same old globs of stew, stood frozen on the wood range.
Matti was glad to see that the wood box was filled. That would save him a trip outside. He picked up some wood shavings from the floor and got a blaze roaring. As the room warmed, he began to smell something terrible. He looked under the corner of the table, and his happiness at being warm turned to disgust. Black Jack’s lard can spittoon was just shy of overflowing and covered with a layer of green fuzz. Matti took it to the door and pitched it out. Not caring to touch Black Jack’s soiled blankets, Matti left his coat on and slept on top of the bed.
When Matti woke the next morning, he felt as if something were terribly wrong. He sat up and listened. What could it be? Then he realized that his strange feeling was caused by the complete silence.
The snow had drifted so deep in front of Black Jack’s steps that Matti had to bump his hip against the door to open it. As the leather-hinged door creaked open, he squinted into the brightness. Except for the black bark of the pines and the blue-patched sky, the world was without color.
Matti put on his coat and mitts and stepped outside. Just as he started slogging through the knee-deep snow, he heard Katie bray across the lake. The sound carried clearly through the bright air. He grinned. His impatient lady wanted her breakfast.
Matti found his skis, but the snow was so deep that he had to break trail on foot the whole way home. The drifts in the yard were enormous. The snow was level with the top of the haystacks and the wagon box. But the biggest drift of all extended from the eave of the sauna toward the lake. As tall as the roof, it was shaped like a frozen wave arching gracefully toward the ground.
Mother and the girls were standing in front of the sauna door, staring across the lake toward Black Jack’s house. Mother was pointing at the smoke plume curling from Jack’s chimney.
When Kari turned in Matti’s direction, she blinked and yelled, “Look, it’s Matti!”
Matti jogged forward as fast as he could while the girls jumped up and down and shouted, “Matti’s home. Matti’s home.”
Matti shoveled a path to the woodpile and carried in two armloads of firewood before he snowshoed to the barn to feed and water the mules. It was tricky carrying the water pails from the lake on snowshoes, but even cantankerous Katie was glad to see him.
Only after he’d fed the animals and gotten more water for Mother did he sit down to a bowl of oatmeal. Though Matti had been eating oatmeal twice a day lately, he had never tasted anything so sweet.
CHAPTER 28
After a week of shoveling snow and hauling wood and water, Matti was anxious to return to the store. With the snow drifted so deep in the yard, Anna and Kari were spending most of their time inside, and they were getting on Matti’s nerves. “Play with us,” they’d say, but they got bored with every game. The girls were even more restless because Matti had to cancel his tutoring until he had time to break a trail to the Saaris’.
Matti enjoyed the quiet of the morning as he snowshoed to the store. The deep snow reminded him of winters past back home when he and Paavo and Juha had snowshoed to the edge of a swamp and hunted rabbits. It felt good to be alone, even if it took him half the morning to pack the trail. Matti feared that Billy might be upset when he arrived so late, but Billy pumped his hand and said, “I’ve been worried sick. When that storm blew in after you left, I thought about chasing after you. I should have made you stay overnight.”
“I was too stubborn to listen,” Matti said. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad when I started.” Billy motioned for him to take a seat beside the stove so that he could continue his story. Matti was impressed when Karl Gustafson offered him the nail keg and sat next to a farmer on the bench. The old-timers listened intently right to the end, and when Matti told about how happy he was to find Black Jack’s cabin, everyone chuckled.
Karl said, “I’ll bet you didn’t mind Jack’s shoddy housekeeping for once, did you, son?”
“I was so cold that I would have taken a stall in a cow barn,” Matti said. Then he smiled.
“What’s so funny?” Billy asked.
“I just remembered that I forgot to dig Black Jack’s spittoon out of that snowbank.”
“Don’t worry,” Billy said. “I’ll loan you a fresh lard can before he comes back in the spring.”
As the fellows all chuckled, Matti felt for the first time that he was truly a part of this community of men. They laughed at him as he laughed at himself, for his foolishness in risking his life in the storm, yet they respected him for the quick thinking that had allowed him to survive.
“I wish I could afford to visit away the morning.” It was Mrs. Winston, marching toward the front of the store. Matti stood up to apologize. He’d been worried about her lately because she’d been so silent. She surprised him with a hug. The soft, springtime scent of her perfume washed over him. “I’m so glad that you’re safe. Last Saturday when I found out that man”—she pointed at Billy—“had sent you home in the middle of a storm, I gave him a piece of my mind.”
“That she did.”
Everyone chuckled again.
Later that afternoon Mrs. Winston asked Matti how it felt to be caught in the blizzard. When he told her about the cold wind and the fear, she shivered and hugged herself tight. “I can imagine how desperate and cold you must have been,” she said. Then she stared out the window. “Can you believe the dark days we’ve been having? I’ve never seen such gloomy weather. Billy keeps promising that things will brighten up. ‘Wait till Christmas,’ he says.” Her voice got softer as it trailed off. “Wait, wait, wait…” Matti was about to tell her that the winters were even darker back in Finland when she changed her tone and said, “So how’s your tutoring going at the Saaris’?”
“Fine,” Matti said.
“Would you like a little more reading material?” she asked, reaching behind the counter to retrieve some back issues of the Ely and Tower newspapers.
When Matti saw that one of the headlines described a sawmill accident, he said, “These will be much appreciated.”
As Thanksgiving drew near, the whole family prepared for Father’s homecoming. Mother planned to serve his favorite dishes: sucker canned in mustard sauce and roast partridge. She’d saved two jars of suckers that the bear hadn’t spoiled, and it was Matti’s job to furnish the partridge.
One afternoon he hunted all the way up the pine ridge but came home empty-handed. The next morning he tried the swamp. The sky was a dull metal gray as he snowshoed past the cedars. When Matti reached a patch of alder, he stopped to catch his breath. For some reason a song was stuck in his head. The notes played up and down, as if a flute were trilling in the distance. Where did it come
from? Then he remembered Black Jack’s whistling from last summer. Why couldn’t he ever get that old man’s tune out of his head?
The day was perfectly still. The sun was touching the treetops with streaks of pink light. Matti set the butt of his gun on his boot. The snow exploded between his legs, and he almost fell over. With a whirring thunder a partridge darted left and then right before it flew to the top of a distant popple.
Matti stood for a long time, trying to quiet his beating heart. A pair of chickadees flitted in the brush, and a raven called over the lake. When he finally calmed down, he lifted his boot and two more partridges flew up out of the snow, scaring him all over again.
Once Matti reached the popple stand, he realized why he hadn’t been seeing any birds. At night they slept under the deep snow, and during the day they feasted on buds high up in the popple. In a short while he shot a half dozen birds and returned home.
“Now the meal will be perfect,” Mother said when Matti emptied his pack.
They set the table before they went to bed and got up early the next day to wait for Father. Mother had hoped he’d arrive by lunch. But the noon meal came and went and still no Father. They waited all day Saturday, but he still didn’t come. Matti and Mother pretended that everything was fine. When they sat down to a lonely dinner on Sunday afternoon, Mother said, “The snow must be too deep for Father to travel,” and Matti quickly agreed.
“But doesn’t Father have snowshoes?” Anna asked.
Mother had no answer for Anna until a week later, when Matti stopped by Mr. Saari’s shack to check on their mail. “The mail is slow sometimes in these parts”—he chuckled as he handed Matti an envelope—“but this one is no fault of the post office.”
Matti was excited to see Father’s writing, but he had to laugh when he saw the scrawled address. The words were an illegible combination of Finnish and English.
“According to the postmarks,” Mr. Saari said, “it went from the lumber camp to Sand Lake and Sturgeon Lake before it got here.”
The letter was short and simple. Father couldn’t make it home for now because the camp was still behind on its contracts. “But come Christmas,” he wrote, “tell Anna and Kari that I’ll make it home even if I have to hitch a ride in Joulupukki’s sleigh.”
CHAPTER 29
Father’s letter cheered everyone up, especially the girls, who had wondered if Joulupukki, or Father Christmas, would be able to travel all the way to Minnesota from his home in Lapland. The letter also gave Mother an excuse for the small portions of food she’d been serving lately: “We want to have lots of food when Father comes home.”
In mid-December Matti noticed a huge smoke cloud to the north. The girls were worried that Father’s lumber camp was on fire, even though Matti told them Father was working to the southeast. When Matti got to the store, everyone was talking about the fire that had burned up the Tower Lumber Company and six million feet of lumber. The whole town would have been lost without the help of the firemen.
On the Sunday before Christmas Matti took Anna and Kari out to cut a Christmas tree. The spruce was twice as tall as the girls, and they set it in a snowbank beside the door. Mother and the girls wove decorations out of straw, and Matti shaped a star out of cedar shavings to place on top. Then they strung some cranberries for the birds.
“Can we put candles on, too?” Kari asked.
“We can’t spare—” Mother began, but seeing her face, added, “On Christmas Eve you may each light one.” That reminded Matti of the cemetery back in Kuopio. On Christmas it glowed with hundreds of candles to honor the souls of departed relatives. He hoped that Timo would remember to light a candle in Tower for Uncle Wilho.
When Matti and the girls went to the Saaris’ the following Friday, the boys were sitting at the table ready to begin their schoolwork. But as Matti took off his coat, everyone shouted, “Surprise!”
Mrs. Saari brought out a big plateful of Nissu Nassu Christmas cookies. The boys had shaped the spicy gingerbread into the letters of the alphabet to show how well they had learned their lessons. Everyone picked out a cookie to eat. Tapio took the letter T and Ahti the letter A, but Ukko chose an M. Thinking he had confused his letters, Matti was disappointed until Ukko said, “I took an M because Matti is my favorite teacher.”
“And your only teacher.” Matti smiled.
Then Ukko ran over to Anna and Kari and hugged them, too, saying, “And you are my favorite schoolmarms.”
Matti wanted to make Father’s Christmas special, but it would be difficult to buy a present with the few pennies that he’d set aside. On the Saturday before Christmas Matti was ready to buy a shaving mug, but Mrs. Winston saved the day. “There’s one thing that makes every homesteader’s eyes light up,” she said, “and it’s right over here.” She led Matti to the far end of the storage room and pointed. “What do you think?”
Matti grinned. “Täydellinen,” he said. “That means perfect.” Though Matti didn’t have enough money to pay for the gift, Billy said, “As your Christmas bonus, I’ll sell it to you for the price of a shaving mug.” Matti was still smiling after he’d carried his present home and hidden it on a shelf in the mule barn.
Father got home early on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and Timo arrived shortly after. Mother made a dinner of roast partridge and potatoes, and Father and Timo both brought presents. Father gave hand-carved tops to the girls and an oak breadboard to Mother. Matti got new ski bindings made from harness leather. Timo brought a sack of oranges for the family, and he gave Mother an envelope—“A little something to make up for the salary that I drank up when I was working in the mine,” he said. Matti gave the girls stick candy and hair ribbons. And since Mother had been complaining about how bland her cooking was, Matti gave her a package of spices.
Everyone thought the gift giving was done until Matti slipped on his coat and went up to the barn. When he got back, he said, “Now for Father’s present.”
Father shook his head. “Just being with my family is present enough, Matti.” With a grin Matti carried in the wooden crate and set it on the table.
Father stared. “Dynamite!”
Suddenly Father was waving his arms and talking all at once. “Think of the stumps we’ll blow. And the rocks …” Father looked for a tool to pry up the lid.
“Not inside this house, Leo Ojala,” Mother said. “You’ll not be blowing us up on Christmas.”
“It’s not dangerous without a blasting cap,” Father insisted.
“Matti,” Mother said, “take those explosives out of this house.”
After breakfast the next morning Father turned to Matti and said, “We’d better check on Maude and Katie.” When Matti started to tell him that he’d already fed and watered the mules, Father said, “You and Timo get your coats. I need some help.”
Before they were halfway to the barn, Father said, “I’ve been thinking. The ground can’t be frozen too hard with all this snow.”
When Matti saw the twinkle in Father’s eye, he knew exactly what he had planned. “Should I get the lining bar?” Matti asked.
“And a shovel?” Timo said.
Timo scraped away the snow from the south side of a stump, and Matti poked the lining bar between the roots. When Matti’s second thrust broke through the frost, Father chuckled. He packed a stick of dynamite in place, attached the blasting cap, and measured out the fuse, saying, “I’ll give us plenty of time to get clear.”
They worked their way down the field, selecting eight of the biggest stumps. Each time Father cut the fuse a little shorter. “If I time these right,” he said, “it will be quite a show.”
As soon as they were finished, Father went to the door of the sauna. “Get your coats, ladies,” he shouted.
When everyone had gathered outside, he said, “Are you ready for some Christmas fireworks?”
“You’re not going to blast today?” Mother said.
“We’re set to go,” Father said. He walked to the farthest stump
and took out his matches. The morning shadows stretched long across the field, and the chickadees twittered in the birches.
“Be careful, Leo,” Mother called.
He waved to her; then he knelt to light the first fuse. As smoke puffed out of the snow, he ran to the second stump and then the third. Father lit each fuse quickly until the last one, when his match dropped into the snow. Mother wrung her hands and yelled, “Hurry, Leo, hurry!” as he fumbled with another match.
Father raced over. “Watch the sky in case anything flies this—”
The farthest stump blew. Anna and Kari squealed as a tangle of roots and rock flew out of the ground. Then four more stumps exploded almost at once, booming so loud that the girls screamed again. The last three blew within seconds of one another, raining down a cloud of pebbles, and causing the girls to ignore Father’s warning and duck their heads.
When the girls looked up, their eyes were wide. Smoke rose from the hillside, revealing a series of blackened circles in the snow. Every stump but the closest one was tipped at a crazy angle. When Father saw the level stump, he said, “That one needs a little help, Matti.”
“Do it again, Father,” the girls yelled. “Do it again.”
“That’s quite enough,” Mother said. “You put that dynamite away so we can have a civilized holiday.”
Anna and Kari asked together, “Can we blow up stumps every Christmas?”
CHAPTER 30
Though Father and Timo had to return to work the next morning, Father left the best present of all behind—a whole month’s wages. Mother celebrated for a week after Christmas, frying either bacon or side pork for breakfast every morning. The twins cheered the “no oatmeal mornings,” and Kari enjoyed the meat so much that she told Matti to put a third door on the root cellar, so that the bear couldn’t ever get at their food supply again.
Song of Sampo Lake Page 14