Katerina's Wish (11 page)

“Trina, do you remember this morning, when you asked if I wanted something more?” Mark's voice was unexpectedly nervous, and I turned to look at him. His nervousness made him look like the schoolboy once again, instead of the miner.

“Yes.”

“What I want is for you to go with me to the dance at the community hall on Saturday. Would you?”

My heart skipped a beat. The older girls all talked excitedly about the community hall dances they went to with the bachelors in camp, but I had not looked for an invitation to one yet. The idea of it made me giddy.

“I have to ask my parents,” I said.

Mark smiled, and I noticed how handsome his smile was. “Go ask, then. I'll wait here,” he said.

I nodded and slipped inside, feeling like I was walking in a dream. So many things were going right so quickly it couldn't be real—and yet it was! I found Momma alone in the kitchen, putting away the last stack of plates. Through the open front door, I could see Papa, Jan, and Karel on the porch in conversation. My sisters were playing hopscotch in the dust beyond. I cleared my throat and spoke.

“Momma, Mark—Marek—” I added, remembering my parents'
preference for his Bohemian name. I didn't want to give any reason for her to say no. “Marek has asked me to the community dance on Saturday. May I go with him?”

Momma's face burst into a wide smile. “The community dance? That's a fine idea, Trina. Marek is a good boy—a fine young man, that is.”

“I may go, the n?”

“Of course you may go. We must find you something nice to wear. You should look your best. I'm glad to see you thinking about practical things and not just dreams. Marek is a good match for you. He's almost family already, and he's a practical boy. And you and Marek are very fond of each other, I think.”

“A good match! It's only a community dance,” I protested.

Momma smiled. “Don't act so surprised, Trina. You're almost a woman. It's time we started thinking of these things. Marek is handsome, and he already makes a good living. Go tell him you would be glad to go.”

She smiled at me again and went out onto the porch to sit with Papa and Old Jan, leaving me in the kitchen, my mind reeling. I liked Mark, but I couldn't see myself marrying him. I hadn't thought of marrying anyone yet, but especially not someone who was content to stay forever working at the coal mine. I couldn't bear being trapped here forever, no matter how kind or handsome a husband I had. I'd made other plans. Of course, it would be years yet before I was ready to marry, but as I stood in the kitchen, I could hear my mother suggesting the idea to Old Jan and Papa on the porch. I did not want to make promises to Mark, or to Momma, that I couldn't keep if we got our farm.

Slowly I returned to the backyard. Mark was waiting. He pushed his hair away from his face and smiled when he saw me coming. I felt a pang in my heart, but it couldn't be helped.

“Well?” he asked.

I bit my lip, my eyes on the ground. “I'm sorry, Mark. I'm not ready,” I said softly.

He frowned. “You'll be fourteen soon. Will your parents let you go then?”

“Maybe,” I said, trying to decide whether it was wrong to let him think my mother had said no. Before I could decide, Karel came around the house to remind Mark that they had a night shift at the mine and should go home for a few hours' rest. I watched them go, already regretting my answer.

Holena suddenly came running around the corner of the house, bursting with so much excitement that I couldn't make out what she was telling me. She tugged at my sleeve. I took one last glance toward Mark and let her pull me away. She stopped by the front porch and pointed excitedly.

“See, Trina, see? The poppies! They've sprouted at last!”

There where she pointed, gray-green sprouts were curling up out of the ground.

“Well, I'll be,” Old Jan said quietly from his seat above us on the porch. “And to think I had nearly given up on them! Tereza's poppies!” The faint tremor in his voice made us all look up at him. The corners of his eyes glistened with tears. Holena climbed the steps to him and took his gnarled hand in hers.

“Don't cry, Jan,” she said gently. “Be happy. They will be beautiful when they bloom.”

Old Jan smiled and patted her soft cheek. “You are a wise child, Holena. I was caught up in thoughts of what was, but you . . . You are right to hope for the future. After all, that is why we came to America, isn't it? To grow our hopes for the future. You are a wise child, indeed.”

And with that, I knew I had done the right thing too.

IT DID NOT
take long for everyone in the coal camp to hear about my chickens, and at least half of them came by to catch a glimpse for themselves. The children came eagerly to the backyard to stare over the fence while their mothers walked slowly by on the road, trying to slyly glance past the house to the chicken yard. I could tell how far the news had spread each day by the changing nationalities of my visitors. We all had our own neighborhoods and we didn't mix much. The coal company preferred it that way—if we didn't mix, we couldn't organize against them. My chickens, however, managed what the union leaders could not. In no time Polish, Greek, Italian, Mexican, and Bohemian children were all mixed together, talking and laughing. By the end of the week, even Mr. Johnson knew of my chickens, as I discovered on my next trip to the store.

“Ah, it's the not-Greek girl,” he said. I gave him a polite smile and listed the things I needed. He set each item dutifully on the counter in front of me.

“No eggs for you today?” he asked, smirking as if he knew a secret.

I could not help but stiffen, but I only said, “No, thank you.”

“What about chicken feed?” he asked.

I hesitated. Was he merely trying to confirm the rumor? Something sinister in his manner made me afraid to tell him anything, though I could think of no reason not to. There was no law against keeping chickens, as far as I knew.

“No, thank you, sir,” I said again and held out my money to him, wanting to get away from him more than ever. He did not take my money but continued to look at me with the same cold smirk. My outstretched hand began to tremble, but I said nothing. What was there to say?

Finally he took my money and made change. I hurried out of the store, relieved to get away.

“Never mind him,” someone said as I stepped out onto the porch. I nearly jumped out of my skin—I'd had no idea anyone had been watching or listening. I turned to see one of the other Bohemian girls in the camp, sitting in one of the chairs on the porch. Her name was Martina, and she was three or four years older than me. She'd been in school with me when I had first arrived, but soon after she left school to marry. She had no children to come watch my chickens, but still I had seen her walking by our house, glancing curiously toward the backyard. I nodded a greeting in her direction. She rose and began to walk with me.

“My Charlie is on the same crew as your papa,” she said as we began down the steps together. “Don't worry about Mr. Johnson. He's just afraid of the competition, that's all.”

“Competition?” The idea surprised me—how could my three chickens be competition for Mr. Johnson?

“He's afraid you'll be selling eggs,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Will you be?” There was an eagerness behind her question that made me think she would be a ready customer if I had eggs to sell.

“I haven't really thought about it,” I admitted. “I only have three hens, and they won't start laying for at least two more weeks.”

Martina's face fell a little. “I see. But if you did have any to sell, I wouldn't require many. It's only my Charlie and me, and he'd sure be delighted to taste a really fresh egg now and then. You will let me know, won't you?”

I nodded. “I will let you know.”

We had been walking as we talked and had come to her house. I thought she would say good-bye and go inside, but she hesitated.

“You have a garden too? And cucumbers?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Johnson never has cucumbers fresh enough to make a crisp pickle,” she said. “Do you think—”

My mother called me from up the street. I could see her on the porch of our house, shielding her eyes from the sun, trying to see who I was talking to.

“Coming, Momma!” I called to her, then turned back to Martina. “You would buy cucumbers, too?” I asked.

She nodded eagerly.

“I'll let you know when they are ripe,” I said. When I got home, Momma asked who I'd been talking to. I told her what Martina wanted.

“I said we probably wouldn't have anything to sell,” I said. “But if we did have anything extra, from the garden or the chickens, she would like to know.”

Momma gave a little snort and went back to work in the kitchen. “You've got everyone in town caught up in this nonsense. You'd be much better off to let Marek court you, and to forget your grand plans.”

I did not reply, only put away the tins of food I'd brought and returned the change to the money can. Then I went out to the backyard and looked at my garden. The squash and cucumber vines were sprawling out from their hills, their wide, shady leaves sheltering the blossoms that would soon turn to fruit. The beans were climbing the simple trellises Old Jan had made from sticks and twine, and the corn was almost knee high.

What if there was enough here to sell? We were still going to have to purchase the necessities at the store. The garden would only produce a few extra things that would make my family happier. But Martina had given me something to think about. If these fresh vegetables would be a luxury to my family, they would be to others, as well. And people would pay money for a luxury, even if they could only get a little of it! All this time I had only been thinking of
saving
money—but maybe with my garden, I could be
making
money! And it must be possible, otherwise Mr. Johnson would not be so suspicious. It made me laugh to think that Mr. Johnson's suspicion had led to this discovery, but it gave me an odd feeling, too. It was yet another lucky coincidence—another unexpected occurrence that opened an opportunity. How could I account for so many lucky coincidences?

Holena and Aneshka came skipping out of the house, having finished their chores for the day as well. They each carried an empty plum can.

“We are going down by the creek to catch grasshoppers for the chickens,” Aneshka said. “Do you want to come?”

I nodded and found a can for myself, and we set off for the creek. It probably would have been more efficient to bring the chickens to the creek to catch their own meal, but my sisters enjoyed chasing grasshoppers and trying to trap them in tin cans. As for me, I had been so busy with the garden, the chickens, and my regular chores, I had spent little time at the creek lately. So when my sisters tired of catching bugs, I sent them home, and I wandered alone around the bend to where the high bank silenced the mine. I needed the silence and the solitude to think.

I settled myself in the space between the tree's roots and waited, wondering if I would see the fish again, wondering if it really was a magic fish. I knew it couldn't be, but how else could I explain what was happening? I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Holena. She was watching me, her eyes uncertain. I smiled at her and patted the tree root beside me. She sat down on it, still looking at me with questioning eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I like this place,” she said. “It feels special.”

“I think so too,” I said.

Her face brightened. “You do?”

I nodded.

She chewed her lip, looking at the pool. I waited and soon her question spilled out. “You didn't see a magic fish in the washwater like Aneshka said, did you?”

“No, I didn't,” I said.

“You saw it here, didn't you?”

I was so surprised by the question, I could only gape at her.

“I saw it too, the day I was here with Mark.”

“You did? How do you know it was a magic fish?”

“I knew it was because you didn't want Mark to catch it. Why else did you make him stop fishing here?”

I couldn't help but smile. She had seen through everything.

Holena sighed and hugged her knees. “I wish you had made a wish, Trina,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“Aneshka and I used our wishes on little things, just like you said. You would have wished for something smarter.”

“Do you regret your wish, then?” I asked. People in the stories always did.

Holena shook her head. “But you would have wished for something wonderful and you'd be happy.”

We sat in silence for a long moment before she spoke again. “If we see it now, Trina, will you make a wish? Please?”

I hesitated. I hadn't told anyone about my wish. It had seemed like an embarrassing secret all these weeks, but Holena was different. I took a deep breath. “I already have.”