The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific
Page 9
“What’s Andrew supposed to do?”
“Truth be told, I don’t care where he gets it…and I told him that…he was furious.”
“Will your relationship survive?”
“We’re staying together for now. Besides, I think he has someone in town to do it with.”
“A street walker?”
“No. A middle aged, single woman who’s barren. That’s all I know about her. They use each other and he comes home.”
“And you?”
Kathleen shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.”
II
PART TWO
Chapter Fifteen: Monica is Educated
Three boys blocked Celeste and Monica’s path to the school yard.
“I haven’t punched an Indian today,” the largest of the three said.
“You must be new around here. Leave us alone or I’ll scream,” Celeste said.
“Who cares?”
Celeste smiled. “You will.”
The bully smirked, shoved Monica and laughed as she fell and her books scattered across the ground.
Celeste screamed.
William came running at full speed to his sister’s side with Nathan close behind.
“There’s still three of us, punk,” the bully said looking down at William who was a head shorter.
William uncoiled like a snake and buried a fist into the boy’s belly. The bully doubled over, and dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Nathan and William eyed his friends with fury in their eyes such that the others didn’t move.
Celeste put her books down and helped Monica to her feet.
“Now you’re out numbered,” William said as nearly six-foot-tall Abbey arrived.
The bully said, “She’s just a dumb Indian.”
“Behind my back I’ve heard you refer to me as one of those evil Jews,” Celeste said.
“At least you’re white,” one of the bully’s friends said.
“What’s that damn Indian to you?” the bully said after catching his breath but still on his knees.
“She’s…our cousin,” Nathan said.
In an anger filled voice and displaying body language which promised further mayhem if needed, William said, “You lay a hand on her and I’ll beat the hell out of you.”
“No,” Abbey growled in a deep voice. “We’ll all beat the hell out of you.”
“If anything happens to my cousin,” Celeste said in a sweet voice, “I’m going to tell my brothers and sister it was your fault.”
“What?” the bully said in a shocked voice.
Celeste smiled and said in a sweet voice, “Please be certain your friends leave her alone.”
* * *
“Mom, you need to talk to Mrs. Holt,” Celeste said as she entered their parlor at the end of the school day. “Monica is way behind at school. Miss Pringle doesn’t help her and is always making fun of her.”
“Making fun of her?”
“Because she’s an Indian.”
Myra seethed. Through clenched teeth she said, “Thank you for letting me know. Kim and I will meet with Miss Pringle.”
* * *
“Did you talk to Miss Pringle,” Celeste asked during evening meal the following day.
Myra nodded.
“What happened,” David asked.
“I advised Miss Pringle her current behavior with regards to Monica was unacceptable and that I would be monitoring Monica’s progress.”
“And…” David said.
“That I would be advising the school board as to Monica’s progress at contract renewal time.”
“Thanks Mom,” Celeste said.
“It’s not that simple. Monica is far behind the other students her age.”
“Monica should come home with us every day so we can study together,” Celeste said.
Myra stopped eating and stared at Celeste.
“What?” the eight-year-old said.
“My precious Celeste. Of course she should. I’ll discuss your idea with Kim.”
* * *
William, studying in the kitchen with his brothers and sisters, noticed Monica struggling to decipher a simple reader. After a glance at his mother and Celeste, who were occupied preparing evening meal, he invited her to study with him in the dining room.
They sat in adjacent chairs. Monica struggled to read a simple sentence. She sat up straight and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m stupid. Everyone reads better than me.”
William shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t care. Anyone can work hard. Keep reading. When you encounter an unfamiliar word, please write it down along with its definition.”
“I won’t.”
William slammed his fist on the table. A booming sound echoed across the room.
She jumped.
Monica’s eyes filled with tears. “That was mean.”
In a pleasant voice he said, “Please start reading.”
She hesitantly read a few lines. “Mary’s dad made a … bench for her.” She looked at William. “Excuse me. I’m not sure what a bench is.”
William explained. He helped her pronounce and decipher new words plus patiently helped her write them in her notebook.
“You have beautiful printing,” William said.
“It’s kind of like drawing so it’s fun.”
After completing an entire chapter in her reader, they reviewed her new vocabulary.
“I think I know that stuff now,” she said.
“Arithmetic next,” William said.
“We’re doing multiply. I don’t like it.”
“Watch.” He wrote basic multiplication facts on a foot-square chalk board again and again. Finally, he just asked the problem. With sufficient repetition, they were committed to memory.
“Oh!” Monica’s face brightened. “I can do this.”
Myra entered the room, sat in the corner and picked up her knitting.
“I can do multiply, Mrs. Kaplan. William teached me.”
“Excellent. Work hard, dear.”
Nathan entered. “William, I have a math word problem I don’t know how to approach.”
His brother replied, “Write down the facts and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Nathan walked away mumbling, “Write down the facts…” A minute later he yelled, “I GOT IT!”
“You help your big brother,” Monica said.
William nodded. “Just with math. He helps me with geography and language.”
“I wish I had family to help me.”
In a pleasant tone and putting a hand on her arm he said, “You do. I’m your cousin, remember?”
Monica smiled; her eyes radiant as she addressed William. “I remember.” She abruptly sat up straight. “Please, ask me the multiplication facts again. I don’t want to forget them.”
“Mom,” Celeste called. “Your stew is boiling.”
“Move it to the side and I’ll be right there.” Myra set her knitting aside. As she left the room she raised her eyebrows and mouthed to William, “Good teaching.”
Monica tore a blank page out of her notebook. Using a handful of rapid strokes, she completed a sketch and handed it to William.
His jaw dropped.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A Great Blue Heron fishing in reeds.” He looked up at her. “This is great.”
“It’s yours because you helped me.”
Chapter Sixteen: Family Coming and Going
The late-summer festival was in full swing. A banjo, squeeze-box, and guitar enticed dancers.
After completing a number of dances with Celeste, twelve-year-old William said, “Monica hasn’t danced yet. I’ll ask her.”
He approached her and said, “Hi Monica. You look great.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Thank you. You too.”
The music started again. “Dance?”
Monica nodded. They proceeded to spin around the dance floor.
“William and Moni
ca. Cute couple,” David said, standing at Celeste’s side and nodding at the twosome.
“They’re laughing. Look how they gaze at each other,” Celeste said. She turned to David. “My ankle hurts. I’m going home.”
* * *
Family and friends gathered at the Kaplan’s to say goodbye to Abbey, who was leaving for Medical College.
“Write to me big sister,” Celeste said while giving her a hug.
Dr. Beckham addressed Abbey. “One thing to consider when you’ve finished your college medical studies. There’s going to be a war over slavery. The attack on Fort Sumter may be the beginning. If you doctor the wounded soldiers, you’ll learn more about surgery and doctoring than any single person could possibly teach you.”
“I’m not going to be a soldier.”
“That’s fine,” the doctor said. “The medical units are away from the fighting. I’m certain they’ll employ civilian doctors.”
* * *
At the following Friday-night-services, grim-faced Robert Khasina, standing next to his teary-eyed-wife Esther and their four-year-old daughter Shifra, asked for the group’s attention. “I’ve just received a letter from my brother in Odessa. Some months ago a cruel pogrom occurred. The Jewish community suffered many deaths.”
“Russians?” David asked.
“No. Greek sailors and local Greeks attacked the Jewish section of town. My brother wrote that a number of my family members were killed as well as his teenage son. His wife was severely injured. I’m sending as much money as I can to help them and would appreciate any other assistance to bring them to America.”
David, Mr. Goodman and Mr. Goldenberg huddled for a quick meeting. The three men headed the local Jewish Benevolent Society.
“Dad,” Celeste asked, “didn’t you tell us relatives in America sent money to Ireland to bring your family to Philadelphia or you’d still be in Ireland?”
“That’s what happened,” David replied.
“Family and their friends in American brought my brother Colin and me over,” Myra said. “We were starving in Ireland but those who crossed before us saved us.”
“My story as well,” Kathleen said.
“Same for my family…,” Mr. Goldenberg said, “but we barely have enough to cover the needs of the Jewish Community here in Portland.”
“I know,” Mr. Goodman said with a sigh. “I propose we talk to each family individually and see what we can gather.”
A week later, David and Celeste walked to the Khasina’s home and gave the little money they managed to gather to Robert.
“I don’t know how much this will help,” David said of the paltry sum.
“William, me, and Nathan with some of our friends shoveled out a stable and gave the money to dad to give to you,” Celeste said.
“Thank you Celeste. Relatives from the east coast are sending money as well. With what you’ve added, we should get at least six out of there.” He shook their hands with both of his. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Chapter Seventeen: William’s Calling
Late Saturday, on a warm, sunny afternoon, a tall, thin, out of breath, man pounded on their front door of the Kaplan’s home and yelled, “I’m looking for William Kaplan. Dr. Beckham needs him. There’s a medical emergency. He said he needs William and his little sewing needle.”
William, shocked, turned to David, who said, “Don’t look at me. Get the needle and go!”
The thirteen-year-old jumped from his chair and bounded across the room, grabbed the box which held the needle and headed out the door.
Nathan entered the parlor and asked, “What’s all the yelling?”
“Medical emergency. Dr. Beckham asked for William.”
Nathan raced out the door after his brother.
Celeste, who was teaching seven-year-old Shifra how to knit, put down her work, grabbed Shifra’s hand and ran after her brothers.
William’s feet slapped down the dirt street, then pounded the boards of the wood sidewalk which fronted the shops. Celeste, Shifra, and Nathan, weren’t far behind. He ran into Dr. Beckham’s office. A mother in tears, tried to soothe a terrified infant. His knee, lower leg and ankle were covered in blood soaked wrappings.
The grim faced doctor told William. “There’s tiny shards of broken glass in the wounds plus he needs surgical repair. If we don’t accomplish that, I’ll have to amputate his leg.”
“Please, no,” pleaded the mother who cried and buried her tear streaked face in her husband’s chest.
William glanced at the gruesome injuries as Dr. Beckham uncovered them.
“He’s tiny,” Celeste exclaimed. Shifra turned away after a brief glance.
The doctor said, “He was born premature. My arthritic hands can’t pick out the broken glass in his wounds. We’ve joked about your ability with noodles but now it’s serious. This child needs your ability, William.”
The thirteen-year-old shook his head. “Oh hell no.”
The doctor said in a firm voice, “I’ll tell you what to do. Clean your hands. I’ll clean your needle.”
William briefly stared at the little one, then turned and began soaping his hands.
As the doctor began advising him, William took two deep breaths and using tiny, delicate, and precise movements, carefully followed each of the doctor’s instructions. William’s intense concentration caused beads of sweat to form. Mrs. Beckham wiped his brow.
An hour-and-a-half later the last piece of glass was removed and the final suture in place.
“I’m glad that’s over.” William said, using his forearm to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Will his leg be okay?”
Dr. Beckham said, “I won’t know for a few weeks…maybe a few months. Poor little fellow lost a lot of blood. That leg may still have to be amputated but we did our best today. That’s all we can do for now. Thanks for showing up.”
“I was told it was an emergency but I didn’t think…”
“Please consider, you may have saved an infant’s leg today.”
William shook his head. “You knew what to do. I didn’t.”
“I held the knowledge but your hands did the work. When you complete medical school you’ll know what to do.”
“I’m going to be an engineer. That’s what I’ve planned. I dislike working on people.”
The doctor shook his head. “What can I provide to convince you, this is the kind of work you should aim towards?”
“Maybe a magnifying lens?”
Dr. Beckham looked over the top of his glasses. “I meant, what could motivate you to become a doctor?”
William again shook his head. “This isn’t for me.”
Dr. Beckham seemed saddened. “And next time I need your ability?”
The thirteen-year-old stretched the tension out of his shoulders by rolling them a few times. “Next time…please find someone else.”
William put his little needle in the box, the box in his pocket, and walked out of the office.
His grinning brother and sister followed close behind him. William glanced at them over his shoulder. “Quit grinning.”
“You’re going to be a doctor like Abbey and me,” Nathan said.
William’s face reddened. With jaw set firmly and clenched fists, he turned to face his brother and declared, “I hated doing that stuff. If I screwed up, he might lose his leg. I’m going to be an engineer and now I’m going for a walk…alone…so I can forget this ever happened.”
* * *
Proud Celeste told her parents, “While he worked on the baby, William wore the expression Dad gets when he’s angry.” She giggled. “If angry looks can heal, the little boy will be fine.”
“How old was the child?” Myra asked, while she helped Ciara hem a dress.
“Six days.” Celeste said.
David slapped his forehead. “Six days and needed William.”
Shifra held her hands a foot apart. “He was only this big. Almost his whole leg was red with blood.”
&n
bsp; “Premature birth Dr. Beckham told us.” Nathan shook his head. “You should have seen the minute movements my brother used.”
William returned from his walk and joined the family.
Myra said. “You hungry?”
William shook his head.
His mother said quietly, “Nathan told us Dr. Beckham couldn’t have done it without your hands.”
“I was born with a skill. Lucky – that’s all.”
Ciara considered his answer then said, “No. That baby boy was lucky; lucky you were around to help repair him.”
William shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Shifra said. “You fixed his leg.”
Ciara asked, “Why aren’t you proud of what you did?”
He glared at them. “I’m going to forget this ever happened.” He looked at the others. “I’ll be furious with anyone who tries to remind me.” He stormed out of the room.
“I’ll talk to him,” David said. “He has an incredible gift.”
Celeste said, “Don’t push him, Dad. He’ll make the right decision.”
David opened his mouth as if to reply, hesitated, and turned to Myra who shrugged her shoulders.
* * *
“Rabbi Rifkin, why don’t girls have Bar Mitzvahs?” Celeste asked about the Jewish ceremony for thirteen-year-olds.
Rabbi Moshe Rifkin arrived early that morning for William’s Bar Mitzvah. Celeste and William met with him at Dov’s home.
“Women have different responsibilities than men.”
“What about an Aliyah? A Torah reading?” William asked. “Celeste knows the Torah blessings as well as I do.”
“Having an Aliyah is a Mitzvah, a good deed, for men. If she has an Aliyah then she prevents a man from performing a mitzvah.”
“Why isn’t it a mitzvah for a woman to have an Aliyah?” Celeste asked in a voice tinged with anger.