“You’ve been mining coal? That’s miserable work from what I hear,” Lukas said. “No wonder you look the way you do.”
“And how’s that?” Pole narrowed his eyes.
“Tough. You look like the last person I’d want to mess with. I mean that as a compliment.” Lukas was suddenly nervous. He hoped he hadn’t offended Pole.
“Well, I’m done with mining. There was an accident earlier this month—I can’t go underground ever again. Me and my sister are catchin’ a train for Pittsburgh in an hour. We’re leaving these mountains.” Pole leaned into Lukas’s ear and whispered, “Lily’s mother died recently. We’re starting over somewhere new.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. Crazy thing is … I was thinking about heading back to Riverton to see if I could track down your sister. I owe her an apology.”
“What for?”
“It’s a long story.” Pole leaned forward to look down the counter at his sister. Seeing she was chatting happily with Frankie, he continued, “You gonna tell me about your leg? And what you’re doin’ in boarding school? I know your father values education, but how can he afford it?”
Lukas shook his head. “Long story. Go to Beaver Creek to see Sofie, and she’ll tell you everything. Just don’t ask her about our mother.”
“What the hell happened, Lukas? Do you have any idea?”
Lukas had plenty of theories, all of which were too awful and embarrassing to share. He had never even discussed Mama’s disappearance with Sofie. Over the years, they had formed an unspoken agreement to continue pretending that their mother had been the victim of a terrible crime. Or a tragic accident. Whatever the reason for Mama’s departure, Lukas was sure he’d never find out. He simply plodded on, choosing to forget his painful past and focus instead on the bright future his expensive education would afford him. Except that he would forever have to deal with the irritating reminder of his mother’s betrayal attached to his lower right leg.
“I don’t know. We haven’t seen or heard from her in years. She disappeared the same day that mill manager, Henry Archer, was murdered. My mother was his housekeeper. You remember? The police think his murder and her disappearance are connected.”
Pole stared at Lukas. “In what way?”
“They never figured it out. The case is still open.” Lukas shrugged and tried to cast off the dark cloud now hovering over him. “How’s that sundae, Lily? I hear you’ve got a long train ride ahead of you. We should head over to the candy aisle and get you some supplies for the trip.”
“I’m real glad I ran into you,” Pole said as he stood up and slapped Lukas on the back. “I never woulda guessed I’d see you in Johnstown of all places. You think Sofie won’t mind seein’ me again? You don’t think it will be strange?”
Lukas stood up. His eyes were even with Pole’s chest. He looked up at the face of his childhood friend, trying to figure out how the teenage boy who had fished and swum with him in the Monongahela River had turned into such an imposing man. Lukas wondered what Sofie would think of him. “She’ll be happy to see you. Once you tell her who you are.”
“You don’t think she’ll recognize me? Have I changed that much?”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Aren’t you a smart ass?” Pole punched Lukas lightly in the chest. “I’m glad that fancy boarding school hasn’t ruined your sense of humor. You seem pretty normal, Lukas.”
The irony of Pole’s statement was not lost on him. All Lukas ever did was try to appear normal to everyone—at school, in Beaver Creek, and in Aunt Edith’s Shadyside neighborhood. Unfortunately, he felt that his efforts always fell short. He suddenly wondered if he was being too hard on himself.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Frankie chimed in. “I share a room with this kid, and I think he’s a bit of a nut. But that’s just me.” He grinned.
“Shut up, bonehead.” Lukas glared at Frankie.
“Lily, we need to be goin’ soon if we want to catch that train. Grab a couple chocolate bars and meet me at the register,” Pole said.
The pretty redhead got up and waved to Lukas and Frankie. “It was nice meeting you.” She skipped off in the direction of the candy aisle.
“All right, Lukas. I guess I’m heading to Beaver Creek to see your sister. You got an address for me?”
“5 Dogwood Avenue. The house is a modest Victorian.”
Pole raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I’ll try to remember that.” He shrugged.
“I told you Lukas is a nut.” Frankie laughed. “He’s obsessed with architecture.”
“Nothin’ wrong with that. There are worse things he could be into.” Pole smiled warmly at Lukas. “Take care of yourself. Maybe we’ll see each other again in Beaver Creek.” He extended his hand.
Lukas shook the large, coal-stained hand and looked up at Pole. “I’d like that. I really would.”
As Lukas watched Pole turn away from him and head toward the register, he shook his head. He hadn’t thought of Pole Stofanik in years. He was a remnant of his former life, the one in which he’d been a carefree kid roaming the streets of a mill town. Lukas’s days had been spent causing mischief at school and around the neighborhood or following his sister and her friends to the river. He’d been pretty happy—at least he thought he had—until the day his mother left and caused his horrific accident. Since that fateful day, Lukas’s view of Riverton had soured. He now saw everything and everyone associated with that place through a dark lens. But to his surprise, he hadn’t felt sad or uncomfortable at seeing Pole. He actually hoped their paths would cross again.
Thirty-Seven
JANOS
BEAVER CREEK, NOVEMBER 11, 1917
Janos groaned as he rose to his feet, screwdriver in hand. He had spent much of his afternoon serving as his sister’s handyman and was growing irritated. He had just finished repairing the parlor door, and now Anna was ordering him to tighten the knob on the basement door as well. “You know it’s Sunday, don’t you?” he said, entering the kitchen. “We can do this another day.”
“When? You’re always at the store. I would’ve asked yesterday, but you came home late. Where were you?” Anna asked, smirking.
“Why ask if you already know the answer?” Janos glared at his sister.
She shrugged. “So things are going well between you and Concetta?”
Janos turned away from Anna and knelt down in front of the basement door, hoping to hide his boyish grin. Why was he so embarrassed by his feelings for Concetta? Sooner or later, he would have to make his affections for her public. But it was probably wise to wait until she had fully committed herself to him.
Over the past three weeks, their courtship had progressed, albeit at a slow pace. They’d continued their Saturday lunches together and enjoyed two candlelit dinners. Concetta made no more mention of moving to Philadelphia, but Janos was disappointed that she still hadn’t broached the topic of their future together either. Apparently, marriage was not always the foremost thought in a woman’s mind, as he’d been led to believe. Concetta seemed perfectly content sharing meals with him and ending the evening with an innocent kiss.
Most of the time, she offered him her cheek. But whenever she’d had a glass or two of wine, she was less restrained and allowed herself to enjoy more passionate advances. During a particularly sensual kiss a few days earlier, Janos had let his hand wander to her bottom. He’d been pleasantly surprised when she did not remove it.
“Janos? You going to answer me?”
He turned around abruptly, sighing. “If I do, will you leave me alone the rest of the afternoon?”
Anna nodded emphatically.
As Janos considered which details he might share with his sister, he heard a forceful knock on the front door. “I’ll get it,” he said, springing to his feet and bolting down the hall. He was grateful for their visitor’s impeccable timing.
Smiling, Janos opened the front door. He gasped as his screwdriver dropped to t
he floor with a loud thud. His knees buckled.
Anna was instantly at his side, steadying him and pulling him backward. She gave him a reassuring look before addressing the threesome on the porch. “Father Figlar. Sister Agnes. What is this?”
His stomach threatening to unleash its contents, Janos studied the woman propped up between the priest and the nun from Riverton. Her once beautiful blonde hair was frizzy and streaked with gray, her once creamy porcelain complexion deeply lined and sagging. Dressed in a long, black overcoat, she stared blankly at the floorboards.
“Janos. Anna. We’re so sorry to show up like this, unannounced. Can we come in?” asked Father Figlar.
“I will not have that woman in my house,” Anna hissed.
Completely dumbfounded, Janos stared at the gaunt figure on his front porch. He could not muster a single syllable. An earthquake had struck—the concussion so great, he could not get his bearings or see clearly. He suddenly felt unsteady, swaying back and forth on wobbly legs. The ground was moving beneath his feet. He grasped the door frame for support.
“I got lost on my way home,” the woman mumbled in Slovak.
“It’s okay, Karina.” Sister Agnes patted her back. “You’re home now. We’ve brought you home.”
Janos snapped out of his stupor. Words began to flow furiously from his lips. “This is not her home!” he shouted ferociously. “She abandoned her family seven years ago. Get her out of my sight!”
“I’m so sorry, Janos. The situation breaks my heart. I know you and your children have endured unthinkable hardships. But we really must talk,” Father Figlar said.
“There’s nothing to be said.” Anna stepped forward. “If she needs a roof over her head, the church can see to that. Let the nuns have her. Maybe there’s still time to save her soul.”
“I’m afraid the situation is more complicated than it appears.” Father Figlar opened the long overcoat Karina wore, revealing a swollen belly.
“Dear God,” Anna said breathlessly.
Janos swallowed the bitter bile in his throat. He clutched his chest as a sharp pain pierced his heart. Rage coursed through his veins, blurring his vision.
“Get that whore away from this house!” Anna shouted as she grabbed her brother and slammed the door closed with her foot. She led him into the dining room where she helped him into a chair and poured him a glass of whiskey.
Janos took two large swigs, grateful for the burning sensation of the liquor in his throat. It temporarily distracted him from the swirling chaos in his mind.
“Are you all right? You were clutching your chest. Should I call the doctor?”
“No, no.” He shook his head violently. “Another whiskey.” He held up his empty glass.
Anna did as she was told.
Janos took the second glass of whiskey from his sister and downed it in one gulp. He was disoriented and dizzy, but somehow the liquor slowed the spinning room. Anna suddenly came into focus. Her face was ashen.
“Janos … I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed down her face.
“What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the idiot who married that woman.”
Anna took Janos’s hand in hers and joined him at the table. She sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.
Janos glanced at his sister, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only focus on the unsettling image of Karina standing on his front porch. He’d barely recognized her. His once stunning wife was merely a shadow of her former self. She had aged terribly, the deep lines on her face looking more like twenty years’ worth instead of seven. What had happened to her?
“Look at me. Please look at me.” Anna was shaking him.
“Huh?”
“What are we going to do? We need to talk about this.”
“We’re not going to do anything. The church can take care of Karina and her baby. She’s no longer my responsibility.”
“But the child …” Anna hesitated. “That baby is the brother or sister of Sofie and Lukas. Does that mean nothing to you?”
Janos grabbed the bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. He took a sip and then slammed the glass down hard on the table, staining the linens with streaks of amber. Unhappy with the effect of that maneuver, he picked up the glass and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces. That was the release he’d been looking for. Satisfied, he got up from the table and headed for the back door. “I’m the father of Sofie and Lukas. That meant nothing to her,” Janos said over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sofie will be back soon. What should I tell her?” Anna asked.
“Nothing—absolutely nothing. Do you understand me?” he snapped.
Anna nodded slowly, fear creeping across her face.
As Janos slammed the door, he felt a twinge of guilt in the midst of his fury. He had never before used a threatening tone with his sister. Goddamn Karina! She was wrecking their lives once again.
Thirty-Eight
EDITH
SHADYSIDE, NOVEMBER 11, 1917
Edith stared at the leather-bound calendar in her lap and then turned her gaze back to the mound of mugwort and pennyroyal leaves resting on the side table beside her floral Meissen teacup. It had been almost six weeks since the start of her last monthly flow—forty days to be exact. If she were pregnant, surely she would have had some symptoms by now. Dizziness. Nausea. A headache, perhaps. She would welcome any of those ailments. She pinched a pennyroyal leaf between her thumb and forefinger, wondering whether it was too soon to provoke the flowers again.
“What are you doing, darling?” James looked up from the Confederate soldier’s diary he’d been engrossed in the entire afternoon. “You’ve been staring at that calendar and clump of leaves for almost twenty minutes.”
“Has it really been that long?”
James glanced at the rosewood clock on the mantel, a treasure Edith had discovered in an antique store in London. “I suspect it has. What’s troubling you?”
Edith sighed. She was growing tired of discussing her feminine afflictions with her husband. It was demoralizing. But who else would care as much about her innumerable anxieties concerning motherhood? Her cousin Clara had grown exhausted with her constant obsessing years ago and had requested that Edith no longer broach the subject. Poor Clara had suffered several miscarriages of her own and could not bear to hear of her younger cousin’s heartbreak. The memories were too painful, she had complained.
Edith studied her husband’s concerned face, his sympathetic eyes urging her to allow her confession to flow freely. “I am so conflicted. It’s been almost six weeks since my last menses, and I do not feel pregnant. And we were intimate at least a dozen times or more.”
“More.” James interrupted her, a smirk on his face.
“I can’t decide whether to provoke the flowers again or wait a while longer.” Edith shook her head fiercely. “The last time I let nature take its course, I didn’t have a monthly flow for over six months. How can I get pregnant without one?” She looked down at the calendar in her lap, balling her fists. “I’m almost thirty. Time is running out.”
James was instantly out of his armchair and on the velvet sofa beside her, holding her clenched hands in his own. “Calm down, Edith. You need to relax.” He looked over at the mound of leaves and frowned. “Those herbs are giving you false hope. You have no proof they induced your last menses. It could have been a coincidence.”
Edith wanted to cover her ears, but her husband was holding her hands too tightly. He sounded too skeptical, too rational. Maybe she was a fool for hitching her hopes to those herbs, but she had to place her faith in something. God had certainly not answered her prayers.
James stood up and scooped the mound of leaves into his hand. He strode over to the fireplace and threw them into the flames.
Edith gasped.
“No more herbs, darling. I can’t watch you torture yourself any longer.” He sat bac
k down on the sofa and held Edith’s face in his hands. He kissed her softly on the lips, his mouth lingering on hers for almost a minute. When he pulled away, his eyes were damp.
“I’m taking the spring semester off,” he announced. “You and I are heading west.”
“What?” Edith wondered if she had inadvertently driven her husband mad with her wild obsessions.
“You need to get out of this house and explore the world. I would suggest Europe, if not for that godforsaken war. California will have to do. Perhaps Wyoming as well. I hear Yellowstone is a fascinating place to visit.”
Edith perked up her ears. It had been years since she’d traveled further than New York City or Newport, Rhode Island. Her husband had piqued her curiosity.
“For how long?”
“As long as we want. I can take a leave from the university and start work on another book.”
“But what about Lukas? He wants to live with us next summer,” Edith protested.
“He can join us in California at the end of the school year. He should see more of the world, too. He can even bring his sister along.”
Edith felt a smile creep across her face. James’s idea was so exciting. “But what about having a baby?” she whispered.
James squeezed her hand. “It’s time to let it go. Time to stop focusing on what you don’t have.” He leaned back on the sofa, pointing to his chest. “Remember what’s already yours.”
Edith winced as a sharp pang of guilt pierced her heart. Perhaps she had been spending too much time obsessing over what was missing in her life and had neglected to cherish the blessings right in front of her. She studied James’s kind face, his adoring eyes. He would do anything to make her happy. She suddenly realized that her fixation with having a baby was likely making him unhappy. Maybe he had even begun to wonder why he wasn’t enough for her. The thought made Edith shudder.
She quickly crawled onto her husband’s lap and leaned into his face. “I love you, James. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. A trip to the wild west is exactly what we need.” Edith pressed her lips against her husband’s, smiling when she felt him squeeze her breast. He was suddenly tugging at her blouse, his tongue exploring her mouth. She didn’t care if the servants walked in. They could whisper about her scandalous behavior all they wanted. Edith exhaled deeply, surrendering herself to the moment, allowing James to pull down her knickers. He was going to make love to her on the parlor room sofa in full view of the window overlooking the front lawn, and she did not care who bore witness to the event. She found the idea thrilling. Her preoccupation with her fruitless womb quickly faded away.
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