by Hale, Marian
“You can rest here tonight,” Uncle Nate said, “and tackle the unpacking at the rental in the morning.”
I jumped down, already taking in the house, the large veranda draped in vines, and the barn out back. With the dray, the buggy, and the hired man, it appeared Uncle Nate had done well for himself here in Galveston. This was far grander than what we’d had in Lampasas, and when I looked at Mama, her eyes shimmered with excitement.
Aunt Julia waved at us from the top step while ten-month-old Elliott squirmed in her arms. His older brothers, Andy and Will, dropped to the ground from a tall ash tree in the front yard and headed straight for the buggy.
The four boys were stair-stepped in age—Matt and Lucas, twelve and ten; Andy and Will, eleven and nine. From behind, they looked pretty much the same, like cookies cut from the same dough, but face-on it was another story. We’d all inherited the Braeden dark hair, but Andy and Will had gotten a double dose of Aunt Julia’s freckles, making my two younger cousins look a bit like speckled hens. I grinned at the thought. I didn’t know the boys all that well, but if they were anything at all like Matt and Lucas, they wouldn’t cotton well to hearing themselves compared to chickens.
After a round of quick hellos, there arose such a ruckus from the four boys I couldn’t tell who was saying what, but I guess Matt and Lucas understood enough. They ran off to the rope ladder dangling from a large limb and scrambled up to Andy and Will’s tree fort. I was relieved to see them go. I’d had enough kicking, elbowing, and cutting shines for one day. In fact, I didn’t care if they wanted to stay up there till school started.
“I wanna play, too, Mama,” Kate whined, pointing to the tree.
Laughing, Papa jumped from the carriage and swung her to the ground. “You don’t want to play with a bunch of wild boys, do you, little Kate?”
She gave him a wide-eyed solemn nod, and Papa just grinned and shook his head.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
“Delivering groceries for Unger’s,” Uncle Nate said, “trying to make some money before college starts.”
“Dang,” I whispered, then glanced quick at Mama to make sure I hadn’t been heard. You couldn’t utter a word around her that even sounded like swearing, not if you wanted to keep your ears attached to your head. “So he’s decided to go to medical school?” I asked.
Uncle Nate nodded. “Real soon.”
I caught myself wondering if medicine was what Ben really wanted or if he’d been railroaded into it like me. I didn’t wonder long, though. Ben always did have a light about him, something clean and simple that no amount of bad seemed to touch. If anyone should be a doctor, it was him.
And now that I was thinking on it, Lucas just might have a smattering of that, too. I’d seen him pluck ants and june bugs from his bathwater because he couldn’t stand to see them drown. And this spring, he’d nursed a newborn orphaned mouse he’d found in the brush behind the house. Mama complained that the last thing this world needed was another mouse, but he wouldn’t give it up till it was big enough to eat on its own.
“Come on up and rest in the shade,” Aunt Julia called down to us. “I’ve made lemonade. You must be exhausted after that hot trip.”
We left the boys in their tree fort, climbed the steps, and collapsed into wicker chairs lining the shady veranda. A salty breeze ruffled the red geraniums flanking the door and loosened wisps of hair from Mama’s pins. She looked relieved, though the air felt almost too warm for breathing.
“It’s been such a hot August,” Aunt Julia told us, turning her face to the wind. “And oh, what rain! Overflows were two feet deep in the streets.”
“Aw, you know the kids loved it, Julia,” Uncle Nate said. “They put on their bathing suits and paddled around in washtubs for hours.”
“Even so, I’m thankful the month is almost over. Maybe September will bring us a blue norther.”
“Then we’ll have to listen to everyone moan because it’s too cold to go swimming.”
Aunt Julia made a face at him, and Mama laughed. “But Nate says this weather is the best ever for surf bathing and that the gulf is brimming-full and warm as bathwater.”
Aunt Julia nodded. “That it is, Eliza, and you and Thomas can see for yourselves soon.”
“After supper, if you’re up for it,” Uncle Nate said.
I was more than ready, but it wouldn’t be near as much fun if Ben didn’t get home in time to go with us.
Ben was a little older than me, but we’d always gotten on well. In his letters, he’d mentioned catching redfish and trout in the shallows of Galveston Bay and at a place called East End Flats. It was the one thing I’d been looking forward to—that and swimming in the gulf. Public schools wouldn’t open here till October, and I had every intention of making the most of my free time.
While Mama and Kate played with Elliott, Aunt Julia fetched her pitcher of cold lemonade from the icebox and passed glasses all around. I took mine to the end of the veranda before I could get stuck with Kate again and leaned against the railing.
Seagulls, wings outstretched, rode the wind just yards in front of me, and farther out, spoonbills shot across the sky like pink arrows. They appeared to be headed west, to a marshy blue glimmer Uncle Nate had called Woollam’s Lake, not far from the new Denver Resurvey where we’d be renting.
After a while Mama and Aunt Julia went in to start supper, and behind me, I heard my uncle’s voice rise in pitch, reminding me of the day he’d talked Papa into moving. He mentioned the new construction job on Sealy Avenue that Papa would be in charge of. “A grand house,” he said, “with rounded bays and porches.” I half-listened, more occupied with kids, dogs, and passing carriages than with hearing how Papa would soon be doing everything he was denying me.
I saw a flash of blue and turned my attention to a buggy down the street near Broadway. A girl had stepped out with an armload of packages, and I leaned over the spindled railing for a better look. She shifted her parcels, offered an awkward wave to a friend inside the buggy, and turned toward a front-gabled cottage. I watched her run up the steps, her straw-blond hair swishing from side to side, her shiny blue dress lit with the sun, and as she disappeared inside, I heard Papa mention my name.
“Seth’s a good worker. He could handle the job, I’m sure.”
Uncle Nate nodded. “Might as well let the boy save toward his own college tuition, right?”
I stared at them, a wrathy heat already building inside me. They were planning my life again, probably lining up delivery work like Ben was doing just so I could help pay for those blasted college classes I never wanted in the first place. I thought about all the fishing days this would cost me, and my anger swelled.
Well, it wouldn’t do them any good. I might work the job, but I’d made up my mind about a few things. I’d be planning my own future from now on, and college wasn’t figured into any part of it.
Uncle Nate turned in his seat. “Seth, I think we’ve got some news you might be interested in.”
I glanced at Papa, but as usual, his eyes didn’t tell me a thing.
“A man named George Farrell,” Uncle Nate said, “is foreman for a half block of rentals going up east of here, near the beach. He told me yesterday that he’d lost two men, and I told him that I thought you could easily fill one of those positions.”
Shock must’ve shown all over me, because he took one look at my face and laughed out loud. He patted an arm on the wicker chair beside him and said, “Sit down, boy. I can’t tell whether you’re mad or glad.”
But I couldn’t move. I looked at Papa, full of questions, and he nodded.
“It’s a real offer, Seth. You can work as a carpenter’s helper until school starts, as long as you agree to save three-quarters of your pay toward college.”
I opened my mouth, shut it again, then managed a “Yessir, I’ll save it.”
“Good,” Uncle Nate said. “Then you can start Tuesday after Labor Day. You should be settled into the new place by then.
” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s the address. You’ll work every day but Sunday. Think you can handle that?”
“Yessir, I can. Thank you, Uncle Nate.”
Smiling, he turned back to Papa, and while they discussed the latest building trends, I just stood there, too amazed at my good fortune to hear a word they were saying.
For weeks I’d been stewing in my own misery, and now, in just four days, I’d be working as a real carpenter. This was my chance to prove to Papa that I had talent, to make him realize that I needed to work with my hands—outside where I could breathe. And if I had to put money aside for classes I’d never attend, so be it.
I turned my face to the salty wind, toward the beach where I’d be working.
Come Tuesday, I’d show him.
Chapter
3
Papa and Uncle Nate disappeared into the study, and I sat outside to watch for Ben. I finally saw him walking down Avenue L, his hair dripping with sweat, his face blotchy red from the heat.
I surprised him as he came around the corner, and he let out a whoop. “Seth!” he bellowed, shaking my hand and slapping me on the shoulder. “Glad you finally made it.”
I shrugged and grinned back at him. “Yeah, me too. Things are looking up. Uncle Nate found me a job.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his sweaty face. “Not as a delivery boy, I hope. Today I hauled two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries in this heat. Can you believe it? Two hundred!”
I let out a low whistle. “Then I guess you’ll be too tired to go to the beach later, huh?”
He laughed. “The beach is what we live for around here.”
We finished an early supper of fried chicken, okra, and cantaloupe, but we couldn’t leave till all the chores were done. The younger boys got stuck washing dishes, and for once, I found myself sitting outside with the grownups. I shot Matt a wide grin, and he stuck out his tongue.
As the sun slid toward the west, I noticed more and more people promenading along the streets. Some strolled as if they had no destination in mind, but most poured south toward the beach, with an eager, almost impatient gait. I leaned against the rail with Ben, watching the parade, and the girl I’d seen earlier came bouncing down her steps. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and carried a small bundle.
I nudged Ben. “Who’s that?”
He called to her, and she waved. “Ella Rose Covington,” he said. “Sixteen. Her mother died last year, and now she lives alone with her father. Goes to Ursuline Academy.” He tossed me a sly grin. “Too bad she won’t be going to public school like you.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Too bad.”
Andy and Will burst through the screen door, followed by Matt and Lucas. “We’re finished, Ma,” Will said. “Can we go?”
The four boys waited, eyes fixed on Aunt Julia’s face, bare feet twitching, but she pretended not to notice.
“Ma-a-a,” Andy whined. His freckled face puckered in exasperation.
Aunt Julia laughed. “You can go ahead of us if you agree to stay within the first ropes. But,” she said, holding up a finger, “if I find out any of you disobeyed, there’ll be no more swimming until school starts. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Andy and Will raced for the steps. Lucas tossed a quick thank-you over his shoulder and scrambled after them. Matt, however, leaned down and gave Aunt Julia a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make sure they stay inside the ropes,” he whispered.
She watched him go, then turned to Mama. “That Matt is one sweet boy, Eliza. You must be very proud of him.”
It nearly made me puke. Matt was born knowing which side of his bread to butter, and he did it well.
Ben and I left our lagging parents behind to follow as best they could and headed east down Avenue N. I was glad to get away. I never knew when Mama might shove Kate at me again.
We passed the Garten Verein with its croquet greens and tennis courts, its clubhouse and bowling alleys, and the bright, octagon-shaped dancing pavilion tiered like a massive wedding cake. In the next block, Ben pointed out the Ursuline convent, and beyond that, Ursuline Academy, where the blond-headed girl down the street would go. Her classes would start next week.
“But that’s a whole month earlier than public schools,” I said. “I bet she’s not happy about that.”
“What? You mean you’re not looking forward to school?”
“Are you kidding?”
Ben grinned and shrugged. “Right now, I can’t think of much else.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re really going to be a doctor, huh? Live a life filled with blood and guts?”
He tossed me a surprised look. “Papa told me you were planning to go into medicine yourself. Did he get it wrong?”
“Yeah, he did—for sure. My father is the one planning that career. I’m going to be a carpenter.”
Ben raised an eyebrow and gave a slow nod. “You’re in a fix, then, aren’t you? According to Papa, Uncle Thomas has a powerful stubborn streak. Sounds like you’ll need all the luck you can get to squirm out of this one.”
I laughed, but he was dead right.
We turned south on Twenty-fourth Street and joined a stream of families walking to the great bathhouses built on pilings out over the water. The Pagoda Company’s twin buildings lay just ahead. Their sloping roofs of striped canvas made them look more like two giant circus tents staked out in the gulf than a bathhouse. As we neared the beach, I saw Murdoch’s, too, and beyond that, the three-story Olympia.
Voices rose and fell on the wind, and I turned east toward what must’ve been ten blocks of ramshackle buildings.
“That’s the Midway,” Ben said, pulling me in for a closer look.
The air sizzled with frying clams and frankfurters, and rang with shouts from swimmers and cries from excited gulls. Merchants hawked seashells and saltwater taffy, kewpie dolls and satin pillows, and bellowed invitations to “step right up.” We walked past swimmers with beach balls tucked under their arms lined up next to people in street clothes, waiting for a chance at the penny arcades. And farther down the beach, I spotted a trestle that stretched out over the surf and back again.
“Trolleys go out over the water?”
“Sure. Some people want to experience the gulf high and dry.” He grinned. “Not everyone’s as brave as we are.”
The way the beach looked today, I couldn’t imagine there’d be anyone left in town to take the trolley. It seemed most all of Galveston was here this evening, bathing, bicycling, or just driving carriages across the crisp-smooth sand.
We chose the Pagoda for changing into our suits and took their long boardwalk that started at the end of Twenty-fourth Street. The steps took us high above the beach, and, once out over the surf, I stopped to look down at the crowds gathered around ropes and barnacled pilings. They jumped waves in dark wool bathing suits, looking more like fleas on a stray dog’s ear than swimmers.
All except one.
I leaned out over the weathered handrail spotted white from gulls and tried to get a better look. My stomach fluttered, then lurched hard. It was the girl with sun-bright hair. At least it looked like her. By the time I glanced up again, Ben was gone, and I had to hurry to catch up.
When we’d changed and finally gotten back to the beach, I saw Mama and waved. She looked a bit unsure of herself as she waved back at me from the door of a brightly painted portable bathhouse. A parade of these two-wheeled wagons lined the beach, waiting to be rolled out into the water a short way and hauled back in by horses, a convenience for swimmers who wanted to keep sand out of their stockings and shoes. I had to laugh, thinking of Mama inside, gripping the walls while the concessionaire pushed her toward the surf.
While Ben and I bobbed in the water and rode the waves, I watched for the yellow-haired girl. I kept an eye on the warm surf around the Pagoda and under the splashy lettering painted across the side of the building where I’d la
st seen her. A Ride on the Katy Is Like a Drive on the Beach, the sign for MK & T Railway declared. I must’ve read those words a hundred times before the sky settled into layers of pink and purple and I had to accept that I’d missed her. I hauled my heavy limbs from the surf, feeling like a dunce for letting her tangle up my thoughts the way she had. I didn’t even know her and probably never would.
Ben and I changed back into our street clothes while sunset colors slid away. By the time we started home, there was nothing left but twinkling silver in a black umbrella sky. The electric lamps, perched high on tall pilings out in the surf, flickered on, and I heard cheers from late-night swimmers.
“Skinny-dippers,” Ben said, grinning. “They swim just beyond the light—sometimes as many as two hundred men—naked as the day they were born.”
I shook my head and laughed. It was hard to imagine.
We took Twenty-fourth Street back to Avenue N where nightfall had transformed the Garten Verein into something out of one of Kate’s fairy tales. Electric light spilled across the grounds, gilding leaves and blossoms and ladies’ white lace gowns. The open dancing pavilion sparkled through the trees like a great Chinese lantern.
I stopped to listen to the band, to the way the music mingled with the sounds of surf and the soft crash of bowling pins, and I might’ve stayed far longer if Ben hadn’t pulled me away. But it was late, and tomorrow I’d be only three days away from my future.
Chapter
4
Ezra’s rooster woke me the next morning, pulling me from something soft and murmuring, dragging me back to my crowded island of mosquito netting. I pushed Matt off my arm, threw back the netting, and stumbled for the door.
Once in the hall, I ran into Mama, holding a step stool and pulling Kate behind her. She gave me a sleepy look and held a finger to her lips. “Where are you going?” she whispered.