Evergreen (7 page)

“I see you’ve thought this out.” Eveline set down the milk, lifted Hux out of the reed basket, and unbuttoned the top of her dress. “I think I’ll feed him my way.”

“My God!” Lulu said, staring, reaching. “They’re
huge
!”

With one hand, Eveline covered her top half with Hux’s receiving blanket. She swatted the top of Lulu’s hand with the other.

“Your nipple’s like a saucer!” Lulu said.

“Well, what do yours look like?”

“Not like
that
,” Lulu said.

The two of them stared at each other a long moment before they started laughing and belting out words like
Saucer!
and
Mushroom!
and
Bundt cake!
and Lulu took a swig of whiskey and spit it all over her shoe. After they calmed down, Lulu poured more whiskey, and Eveline asked the question she’d been thinking about asking for a while now.

“Do you ever take off that coat?”

Lulu patted the arms of the coat and a cloud of dust rose into the air. “Not in years,” she said, waving away the dust as if it were nothing but finally succumbing to coughing.

“We’re demented,” she said when the coat reabsorbed the dust.

Eveline took the glass of whiskey from her.
“We?”

Reddy came back from Yellow Falls with an armful of mail, a paper bag full of penny candy for Gunther, and a package of T-bone steaks from the butcher, one of which he’d bought for Eveline because he said women needed iron.

“Are you corrupting your friend?” he said to Lulu.

“She’s corrupting me,” Lulu said.

Lulu was right: Reddy may have looked like a rangy old mule, but he was soft as a lamb. Eveline had never seen him in anything other than a thick plaid work shirt, which concealed the boniness of his shoulders, and a pair of brown trousers, the same as Lulu wore.

He kissed Lulu’s shoulder. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Lulu pushed the bottle of whiskey under her chair with her foot. “How was the trip?”

Reddy had been gone two days. One to drink and one to sober up. His hands were shaking a little. The whites of his eyes were yellow.

“Good,” Reddy said.

Which brought Lulu to her feet, as if in the secret language of their marriage that word meant something different than it did to Eveline. “I’ll fry up those steaks.”

Reddy urged her back down in the chair and started for the cabin. “I’ll heat some broth to tide me over.”

Eveline was fond of Reddy and curious about him, too. Here was a man who’d given himself over to drinking and yet was completely honorable. Eveline didn’t know any man—would Emil?—who would do what he’d done for Lulu, for Gunther.

Halfway to the screened door, Reddy returned to them.

“I almost forgot,” he said, sifting through the letters under his arm. Last week he brought Eveline a note from her parents, but she hadn’t received any postmarked letters yet.

“I mailed yours for you,” he said, handing Eveline two
envelopes, one thick the other thin. “Earl said three weeks or thereabouts.”

“Is that all?” Eveline said, cheered.

“One’s from the government,” Reddy said. “Probably trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. We got that one, too. I make Lulu open those. Bad news sounds better from her.”

Eveline wasn’t interested in the government letter; she focused on the thinner one. When she felt brave enough, she looked at the return address in the corner of the envelope.

Germany!

“It’s from Emil,” she said, hugging the letter. “I think I’ll go home to read it.”

“Should I take you?” Lulu said.

“I can manage,” Eveline said. She tucked the letters into the pocket of her dress and picked up the reed basket. “Thank you. For the day. The letters. Everything.”

Newly buoyant, Eveline started down the path to the river. The white lady’s-slippers stood pretty and prim, like eager schoolgirls, on either side of the footpath. The light was lighter. How wonderful, too, the smell of the pines and birches and the electric-green moss.

And what lovely words:
my husband, my husband, my husband
.

Just as Eveline was about to step into the rowboat and push it away from the shore with the paddles Lulu and Reddy had lent her, Lulu came running down the path.

“Your steak,” she said, getting tangled in the fishing-line-and-bell contraption.

Eveline placed the steak next to Hux and the reed basket in the bow of the rowboat. Then she got in herself, the toes of her canvas shoes wet from the water, her heart flapping like the fish she hadn’t yet caught.

“That was a dumb idea, wasn’t it?” she said.

Lulu untangled herself from the fishing line and gave the rowboat a push. “It’s kind of like art. It’s growing on me.”

After Eveline got back to the cabin and had lit the oil lamps, which glowed warmly in the early evening light, she tucked Hux into his crib. When she was certain he was asleep, she went to the porch with a cigarette and packet of matches. She opened the letter from the government first because she wanted to savor the fact of Emil’s a little longer.

Dear Resident
,

On behalf of the Minnesota Water and Energy Commission, we are writing to inform you that thirty days after this third day of June, 1939, we will begin rebuilding the dam at the mouth of the Snake and Owl Rivers, eight miles north of Evergreen, in a government supported effort to bring you, those who live primitively in the wilderness, electricity by way of hydroelectric power. Light, my friends!

If you desire to stay in your home, which I’m certain you’ll recall was built on land deeded to the government by the Chippewa Indians in exchange for tax clemency in the year 1889 and therefore which you have no legal claim to, you must sign and deliver this document within thirty days and thus will be able to remain where you are for a small monthly fee to be determined on an individual basis by our field agent who will assess all roofed structures
(
including but not limited to cabins, henhouses, outhouses, work sheds, and root cellars
)
as well as any and all cleared land in the months of July and August
.

In signing this document, I must remind you that you retain no legal right to recover any damages, fiduciary or otherwise, from the Minnesota Water and Energy Commission or any branch of the government for any future destruction to your homes or personal effects or to the members of your family should an act of man or nature bombard you during your tenancy on government land
.

Remember, it is light we are offering you
.

Sincerely
,

    
Albert Muldoon

    
President

    
Lead with Light Initiative

    
Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Horseshit!” Lulu must have been shouting across the river, but the words and the official watermark beneath them on the heavy cream paper intimidated Eveline. Albert Muldoon from Minneapolis, president of the Lead with Light Initiative, had told her something she didn’t know: the land beneath their cabin didn’t belong to them and therefore neither did their cabin or the outhouse or the garden (including but not limited to). Did Emil know? Why wouldn’t he have told her?

Which led her to opening his letter before she was ready.

Dearest Eveline
,

I have no doubt disappointed
(
hurt?
)
you by not writing more often and sooner, but Father requires my continual attention. Everyone believed he was waiting for me to come home before he let go of his earthly concerns, but now that I am here, he continues to hold on for reasons unknown to all of us
.

Yesterday when I was reading a passage from Goethe
, To be loved for what one is, is the greatest exception,
he stopped me
.

“Are you happy?” he said to me
.

“Very,” I said
.

“Then you are richer than I ever was.”

Despite the war and its hardships, I always believed my father was generally happy. What a terrible shock to discover he wasn’t. If he’d had his way, which I suppose means if my mother didn’t get pregnant with me all those years ago, he would have become a naturalist in the tradition of Darwin
.

Yesterday he said, “I don’t believe in heaven. How can I be expected to die without that belief?”

I don’t know how to answer that, so I sit next to his bed and read to him whether or not his eyes are closed. When we’ve both had enough, I tell him about you and Hux. He enjoys hearing about your rosy cheeks and your long, lovely hair. He’s particularly interested in your efforts to learn German and your interest in taxidermy
(
which my mother thinks is a form of barbarism
).

I wonder if I have made a mistake leaving you and Hux with your parents in Yellow Falls. Perhaps I should have stayed home, as I suspect it is not me my father really wanted
.

Germany is not what I remember it to be. There is a movement here to involve all German boys in a program designed to promote nationalism, but one that excludes the Jewish population as well as other ethnic groups, among them the Gypsies. My father believes we will have another war on our hands very soon. He has heard Hitler speak on the shortwave radio. As have I now. Hitler is extremely persuasive; he makes hatred seem like a human right. The few Jews in our village have gone to stay with extended family in France and England, which my father thinks is wise since in Berlin and Munich a handful of synagogues have been burned to the ground and violence done to several of their worshippers. We’re in trouble, I believe. We’re already occupying Austria and part of Czechoslovakia, according to the papers here. Have the American papers said anything? I wonder. You mustn’t worry about me. I will be fine. I will come home to you soon
.

Gitte and my mother have asked me to make sure you know you are welcomed into our family as is our little son. Gitte is making you a shawl. She and my mother are constantly bustling about as if household industry soothes their spirits. I wish it soothed mine, as it would be more convenient than running off to the forest to chop wood when my mood needs lightening
.

On one of my wood-chopping adventures, my old friend Ava, whom I told you I used to play with as a boy, interrupted me. For as long as I can remember, she’s been caring for her mother, who suffers from a mysterious illness that keeps her in bed. Ava has consoled me greatly. She’s taught me how to change my father’s bed linens without rousing him from sleep. She was always more clever than me. Everyone, including Ava, thinks I should return to you and Hux at once, but I can’t leave my father just yet
.

Soon, my little dove, I promise
.

I have enclosed whatever money I have been able to scrape together. It isn’t as much as it should be, but will at least procure you the licorice ropes you love so much. I hope to hear from you soon and can’t help but imagine our letters are crossing the ocean at the same time
.

Kiss our boy for me. Kiss you for me
.

Your loving husband, Emil

Eveline set the letter down on the porch floor. What had she expected? An easy death, her husband’s swift return? Certainly not invasions, war.

Eveline forced herself to focus on the other parts of the letter. Gitte’s shawl, their father’s unhappiness. Emil didn’t sound like himself, even though the gently leaning handwriting belonged to him. He’d never talked about German philosophy, which made Eveline feel very far away from him, since she’d been reading his blunt taxidermy manuals.

All she could think about was his friend Ava. Ava in the forest. Ava with a sheet in her hand, saying,
Like this, this
. Eveline was jealous of Ava’s proximity to Emil, who hadn’t even received her letters yet telling him she and Hux were in Evergreen. The only real thing she could do was put away the letter and the slim stack of green bills tucked into it.

Emil will be all right. Hux and I will be all right
.

Tomorrow, she’d cross the river if Lulu and Gunther didn’t cross it first. Together, they’d figure out what to do about the light man, Albert Muldoon.

Eveline went inside to fry the steak Reddy had bought her, which he’d wrapped in the front page of the
Yellow Falls Gazette
. The blood from the steak had made most of it illegible,
but the headlines were still clear: “Little Bears Sweep the Play-offs,” “Local Man Wins Regional Hot-Dog-Eating Contest,” “Fifth Graders Sculpt Giant Loon out of Clay.” The headlines made her miss news that wasn’t news. “Woman Makes Steak for Sake of Iron, Distraction.”

After Eveline ate, she went back to the porch to say good night to Tuna, who hopped onto the railing when Eveline approached her.

“That’s a good girl,” she said when Tuna pecked at the sunflower seeds in her palm. “You’re spoiling me. One day you’ll make a little bird friend and fly away.”

Tuna gathered a beakful of sunflower seeds, hopped back onto the perch of the birdhouse, and gave a little chirp just before she disappeared inside it.

8

Crows were attacking the garden, tearing through the rows of deep green lettuce and orange heirloom tomatoes to get to the corn. Eveline woke to the jagged sound of cawing, followed by something that sounded a lot like chuckling, as if to say:
Got you!