Family Reminders (6 page)

That night when I climbed into bed, tired and content with my day, I found the carving Daddy had been working on tucked under my pillow. It was a girl with the hem of her long skirt tucked into her waistband and an overflowing bucket of raspberries in her hand
.

“Hurry up, Mary. It will be dark soon,” Mama said, her voice rousing me from my reverie. “Here’s a dime. Tell Mr. Brown that Daddy needs more pipe tobacco. He’ll know which kind.”

“Just one minute, Mama,” I said as I ducked quickly into my room and grabbed the Raspberry Reminder still sitting on my dresser. It was a good memory, and I wasn’t ready to leave it behind. I stuck the Reminder into my coat pocket and headed out the door and down the hill toward Bennett Avenue.

The bell at the top of the door
jingled, and a voice from the back said, “I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Brown,” I called back. “Don’t hurry. It’s just me, Mary McHugh.” The truth is, I was glad to have a chance to wander around the store alone, breathing in the spicy-sweet smell of tobacco. Outside, the sign read “Brown’s Emporium: The Finest Things in Life.” Inside, the store was crowded with shelves and glass display cases full of beautiful things to buy: fancy marble chess sets, carved wooden pipes, delicate music boxes, jewelry, and sculptures from all around the world. As I looked around I thought about the town’s rich mine managers, bankers, and store owners who bought these trinkets.

“Well, hello, Mary,” Mr. Brown said as he came out of the store’s back room. “What can I do for you today?”

“I came to get some more of Daddy’s pipe tobacco,” I said, fishing in my pocket for the dime Mama had given me earlier. “I know it’s here somewhere,” I said nervously. A dime was a lot of money, and our family couldn’t afford to lose even a penny. I emptied the contents of my pocket out onto the counter. I pulled out a purple-veined rock that I’d found up on the mountain, Daddy’s Raspberry Reminder, and a piece of hard candy. “Here it is,” I said finally, holding up the dime triumphantly.

”And here is your daddy’s tobacco,” Mr. Brown said, looking over the treasures lined up across the counter. “This is mighty fine work,” he said, picking up Daddy’s carving and inspecting it with an experienced eye over the top of his glasses. “Yes, mighty fine indeed,” he said softly to himself. He turned it over and over in his hand, inspecting the delicate details of the girl’s dress and bucket.

“Where did you get this, Mary?” he asked at last.

“It’s my Raspberry Reminder. Daddy made it for me last summer after we went raspberry picking. He carves lots of things. He even makes furniture,” I boasted proudly, feeling happy that I had something to brag about.

“This is beautiful, Mary. Your daddy is a real artist,” Mr. Brown said slowly. “How ‘bout I buy it from you? I could easily sell it in the store.”

I smiled as I pictured Daddy’s Reminder sitting on the shelf in some fancy mansion up on the hill, or better yet, wrapped up and taken to Denver. “Thank you, Mr. Brown, but I can’t. See, it’s me. I’m holding my pail of raspberries. I could never sell it. Especially now …”

Mr. Brown looked over the carving once more before giving it back. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I walked home with my hand wrapped around the smoothly carved piece of wood in my pocket and my mind wrapped around a new picture of Daddy. A real artist!

As I trudged up the hill
toward home, I watched the sun go down behind the mountain, its last rays of golden light tangled on the ragged peaks. The mine’s evening whistle echoed off the mountain walls, signaling the end of the day shift. Soon a string of twinkling lights streamed forth as the miners, with headlamps still on, headed down the path toward home.

Sometimes, before the accident, Mama and I used to watch those twinkling lights as they slid down the mountain.

Which One Is Daddy? was a guessing game we played
.

“I think he’s the one in the back of the line,” Mama said. “Probably got so tied up talking to Mr. Egan about the Saturday dance at church that he forgot to leave the mine.”

“I bet he’s the first in line, Mama. He knows you’re making roast chicken for dinner tonight. You know he’s never late for your roast chicken.”

We both laughed
.

That night I sat on the top step for a few moments and once again enjoyed the cheerful sight of the strand of pearly lights. When I finally went inside, I was greeted by the welcome-home smell of Mama’s dinner and Daddy’s called-out hello from the kitchen. He sat in his usual place at the table, working on a carving. I handed him his tobacco and leaned over his shoulder, watching the knife blade bite into the wood, chewing away the surface bit by bit.

“What are you making, Daddy?”

“Just another Reminder,” he said, showing me the figure of a man playing the piano. It was Daddy before the accident. Even in the carving I could see that his whole body moved to the music. His eyes were closed, his head was thrown back, and a broad smile lit up his face.

Before the accident, Aunt Hattie and Uncle William used to tease Daddy about his playing.

“Goodness’ sake, Daniel, you’re acting like a wild man,” Aunt Hattie said, shaking her head with disapproval
.

Daddy laughed and said, “I can’t help it, Hattie. I play the way I feel. And I feel happy when I play.”

I thought about Daddy’s piano dancing as I took the Reminder from his hand. “It looks just like you, Daddy,” I said. I remembered the words Mr. Brown had used earlier. “Daddy, you are an artist, you know that?”

“Nope. Just a one-legged miner who carves,” Daddy answered.

Although his words were sad, he tried to say them jokingly. It was as if he thought that talking about missing his leg would help him get used to it. This time his words didn’t make me sad. They made me angry. “No, just a one-legged artist who used to mine,” I fired back, daring him to see himself differently.

Daddy just laughed, his smile flashing and his eyes sparkling. He took the Reminder back from me and looked it over carefully.

“Well, I still say you are an artist, Daddy, and so does Mr. Brown. And he knows what he’s talking about, so there,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “Can I have another one of the Reminders?”

“Take any that you want. Except this one,” he said, putting the Piano Reminder beside him on the table. “I think I’ll keep this one for myself.”

That night after dinner
, we lingered at the table.

“Mary,” Daddy said, “Mama and I want to talk to you about something.”

Just the way he said it, slow and measured, made my heart drop. I held my breath as he began to talk.

“I’ve been sitting here thinking about the future, our future,” Daddy said. “I’m feeling better now, and I’m getting around pretty good on my crutches.”

“I know, Daddy.” I smiled encouragingly.

“So, I think I’m ready to start looking for a job. What do you think about that?”

I let out my breath. “I think that’s a good thing. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mary, I’m going to start looking for work here in Cripple Creek. But I don’t know what kind of luck I’ll have. I might have to look in Denver, too. It’s a big city. There are more jobs there. More kinds of jobs that I could do….”

“But I don’t want to move,” I said, the tears quickly welling up.

“That’s how I feel, too, Mary. It’s how we both feel,” he said, looking at Mama for support. “But I wanted to warn you, just in case.”

“But what about Aunt Hattie and Uncle William? And Mama’s laundry business? And my babysitting? What about school? And church and our friends?” Inside, though, I already knew the answer to all my questions. I knew it was good that Daddy was feeling well enough to look for a job. That’s what I had wanted. For all of us. Still, a tear splashed down my cheek.

“Now, Mary,” Daddy said, his voice soft and gentle, “don’t go expecting the worst just yet. You know I’ll try my best to keep us here. I just thought you should know what we’re thinking.”

The next morning, Daddy surprised me by walking into the kitchen in his Sunday suit. His curly hair was wet and combed flat to his head, and a smile was plastered across his face. I couldn’t help but smile back.