Katerina's Wish (6 page)

“Trina! Hello. Come sit in the shade,” he said.

Holena was already sitting on the big root of the cottonwood, leaning out over the pool and trailing her fingers on the surface of the water. I stepped over the root, into the narrow wedge of grass, and hesitated. It was too small a space to share with another person, though Mark seemed to be expecting me to sit down there beside him. He saw my hesitation and his smile faltered.

“What's the matter, Trina?” he asked.

“It's just that it's awfully crowded here,” I said.

He shook his head. “Not just here. You don't want to talk to me at my house, either, or anywhere else. What have I done?”

The heat of embarrassment filled my cheeks. I wanted to flee, but I could not. I sat down on the root of the tree, trying to decide what to say.

“It's always like this now,” he continued. “You hurry to get away from me. You won't even look me in the eye.”

I had kept my eyes on Holena, but I could hear the hurt in his voice. I forced my eyes up to meet his.

“You haven't done anything wrong, Mark.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I'm not. It's just—” I thought hard, trying to untangle my feelings. “We used to talk about school, and what we wanted to do afterward. Now that you're working, things have changed.”

“I'm still the same,” he said.

I studied his face. It was the same—blue eyes with pale lashes, the soft beginnings of whiskers, and a mop of blond hair that wanted to flop across his forehead toward his left eye. Something else was there too, though. A new seriousness, perhaps, or more worries. Things that had aged him faster than me. I wanted him to still be the same, but like everything else in America, what I wanted made little difference.

He reached his hard, coal-stained hand out and took mine. “Trina, I still want to talk about school and our friends there. Just because I had to go to work doesn't mean I wanted to give up everything else.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, “I just thought—” I was still searching for the right words when I was saved by Holena.

“What's this?” She held up a fishing pole that had been lying in the grass next to Mark.

“I bought that with my paycheck last week,” Mark said with a smile.

I jerked my hand out of his. “You're fishing? Here?”

“I thought if I could catch a meal or two it might stretch our income, but I'm not having much luck.”

“Maybe there are no fish in this creek,” I said.

“You're probably right. There's another stream over that ridge.” Mark pointed toward the hill that rose on the other side
of the water. “Johnson at the store says there's good fishing there, but I thought I'd try here first. I'm tired, and this is my only day off.”

I shaded my eyes and surveyed the slope, my thoughts on the fish in the pool that I did not want him to catch. “It's not too bad of a climb. It might be worth the trouble to have fresh fish for supper, don't you think?”

“If it is worth the trouble, you are welcome to use my pole. I've got a can of worms you can take with you, too.” He grinned and held the pole out to me.

“But—” I looked at the pole and the water before turning back to Mark. “But I don't know how—and I'm supposed to be watching my sisters.”

“Holena can stay here with me. This is all you have to do,” he said, and he explained how to cast the line into the water and how to reel it back in. Uncertainly, I took it and tried casting as he had said, only to whip the hook into the grass practically at my feet. Holena giggled.

“No,” Mark said. “Like this.”

He got to his feet and stood behind me. Then he wrapped his arms around me, his hands on mine to show me how to hold the pole. He pulled it back gently and cast. Though my hands and arms followed obediently through the motion, I could not concentrate on the lesson. His encircling arms felt strong and safe, and his body was warm and solid. It felt nice. My heart began to hammer unexpectedly. I hoped he couldn't hear it.

“Now you try it,” he said, stepping away from me. I forced my thoughts back to the fishing pole again. This time the hook landed in the middle of the pool. I reeled it back in quickly.

“That's it,” he said. “Now let me show you how to bait the hook and you're all set. You're not squeamish about worms, I
hope.” He dangled one in front of me. Then he deftly threaded it onto the hook and held the pole out to me.

“But—” I looked at Holena. I wasn't as eager to get away from Mark as I had been before.

“I will stay with Mark,” Holena promised. “I don't mind. And Papa loves fish.”

That was true, and fresh fish for supper did sound good. I looked back up at the ridge, then at Mark. My face flushed unexpectedly.

“Okay,” I agreed, and set off quickly before I could change my mind.

The ridge was both steeper and higher than it had appeared. When I reached the top, I paused to catch my breath. From this height I could see beyond the mine and the nearby hills to the snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains, cool and white against the sky. Below me on the other side of the ridge ran a green valley with a stream somewhat larger than our own. I looked back the way I had come. I could see the lone cottonwood. Mark and Holena stood in the sunshine beside it, looking up and waving. I waved back and set off down the opposite slope.

Mark had been right about fish in this stream. I caught one almost immediately after casting my line into the water. After catching a fish in one pool, I walked along the water to the next, and I soon learned which places were likely to have fish and which were not. I worked my way upstream for some time, until at last I had twelve trout—one each for me, my sisters, and mother, and two for each of the men. The sun's rays were slanting from the western horizon, and I knew it was time to get home. I gathered the fish into my apron and I tied it into a bundle with the apron strings. Swinging the bundle over my
shoulder, I began to walk back toward the ridge. I had been moving upstream all afternoon, and wasn't sure how far I had come. I had planned to climb to the top of the ridge and use the view from there to find my way back home.

The bottom of the valley was choked with willow bushes and shrubs, and I had to fight my way through them to get away from the stream. I burst out into a plowed field and almost into the farmer. A tanned, squarely built man, with thick black hair and a large mustache blinked at me in surprise, as did the two barefoot children beside him.

“Excuse me,” I said, taking a quick step back. “I was fishing. I didn't know—” I was afraid I was on his land and he'd take my catch. He only stared at me. His little girl giggled, reminding me of Aneshka.

“Buenas tardes,”
she said to me, but her papa shushed her.

I recognized the language as Spanish. I had heard it at school, spoken by the children of Mexican miners. At least, the schoolteacher called them Mexican, but I knew some of them had grown up on farms in the area. Farms like the one I had apparently stumbled onto. Now that my surprise was wearing off, I saw that they were planting a field. Each carried a canvas bag of seeds and a sturdy, pointed stick to form the holes for the seeds. I felt a pang of longing—this was exactly the life my father had wanted us to have.

Suddenly I had an idea. I swung my bundle of fish off my shoulder and opened it. “Will you trade?” I asked. “Half my fish for some seeds?”

The man held his hands up and shrugged.
“No hablo inglés, señorita,”
he said.

I took six fish from the apron and held them out. “For seeds?” I repeated, pointing at his canvas bag.

The children and the farmer spoke for a moment in Spanish, then the man smiled at me. He took a handful of seeds from the bag and held it out, pointing between me and the seeds. I nodded and he poured corn kernels into my open hand, saying something to his son. The boy took a handful of beans and added them to the seeds I already held. I accepted them with thanks and poured them carefully into my pocket before gathering the fish and giving them to the man.

“
Muchas gracias,”
he said. He handed the fish to his son, who ran off with them toward the low buildings on the far edge of the field. I retied the apron bundle and hurried away. The load was considerably lighter. There would not even be a who le fish for each of us now, but I was happy with my trade. I planned to plant a garden behind our house and grow some of our food. That way, we could save some of the money that we usually spent at the company store.

The sun had nearly set when I got back to the creek, and everyone had gone home. I found both Mark's family and my own waiting for me at my house.

“Well?” Mark asked when I arrived. “Did you bring us supper?”

I untied my apron so they could see the six fish. With so many expectant people gathered around, the fish seemed smaller than they had before.

“We'll have to share,” I said.

“That's not even one apiece!” Aneshka complained.

“Hush, Aneshka,” Momma said. “I'll put them in a stew with vegetables and there will be enough for everyone.”

“And enough is as good as a feast,” Old Jan said, tweaking Aneshka's cheek gently.

“I'd rather have a feast,” Aneshka grumbled, but I ignored her.

“I think it will be a fine meal,” Mark said, grinning at me.

“I had more,” I said, “but I traded some to a farmer for these.” I pulled the seeds from my pocket and spread them gently on the porch.

“That's not enough for a feast either,” Aneshka said.

“They're not to eat,” I told her. “They are for planting a garden behind the house. We can grow fresh vegetables and we won't have to spend our money at the store.”

“That's a fine idea, Trina,” Papa said, smiling.

“Indeed it is!” said Old Jan. “Fresh vegetables for your table will be very nice to have.”

“And, we'll save money,” I pointed out again.

“And that means Holena and I can have new dresses for school!” said Aneshka, finally growing excited. “I want yellow calico with blue flowers! What do you want, Holena?”

As my sisters prattled on about new dresses, I glanced at my mother. To my surprise, she was frowning at me, and my heart sank a little.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Put those away and come help me get supper now. Everyone is hungry.”

I did as she said, confused. I had thought she would be happy and proud that I had made the trade. In the kitchen I chopped vegetables while she cleaned the fish. When they were all bubbling together in the pot, I asked her again what was wrong.

“Trina, I asked you to stay with your sisters. I need to be able to count on your help.”

Her words surprised and stung me. Didn't she realize I was trying to help with the fish and the seeds? Couldn't she see the opportunity here? “Mark was watching them,” I said.
“I thought you'd be pleased. Aren't you glad to have the fish?”

She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. Her brow drew down and her lips tightened. “I don't want you to get hurt, Trina.”

“It was safe, Momma. Really.”

She shook her head, and I knew I had mistaken her meaning. “I know it was safe. But a garden, Trina? What do you know about growing a garden?”

“I know I have to—”

“It's another dream that won't work out!” she said. “And now you've got your sisters and your father all excited. And you're already dreaming of the money we'll save and what we'll do with it. But the seeds won't sprout or the crop will be eaten by locusts, and then what?”

“But they might—”

“Then more disappointment! More heartbreak!” she burst out.

I stared at her. How could she be so upset over such a simple plan? She couldn't really believe that we would break our hearts over something so small.

“It's only a garden, Momma,” I said quietly.

Momma took a deep breath and returned to her usual resolute expression. “You should have done as you were told and stayed with your sisters. Now set the table.”

The matter was closed. She left the kitchen and I obediently set the table, biting back my disappointment.

Momma said nothing more about it for the remainder of the evening, but Papa and Old Jan couldn't stop planning. Old Jan had a shovel I could use to turn the soil, and Papa had a plan for where we should lay out the garden. Aneshka was telling Holena of all the lovely bolts of fabric she'd seen at the
store, and the new dresses we would all have. Momma only sat in silence and chewed hard on her food.

“Will you have a garden too?” Holena asked Old Jan. “It was Mark's fishing pole, so half the seeds should be yours.”

Old Jan patted her head affectionately. “I had once thought of planting a garden, but I can't till the soil with only one leg. But you've given me an idea. Excuse me for a moment.”

He rose from the crowded table and thumped out of the house and up the road. When he returned, he had a bulging paper envelope. He handed it to me with a smile.

Gently I poured the contents out onto the table. A variety of seeds spilled out.

Old Jan leaned over the pile and began sorting them with his finger. “I was saving these when I thought I might plant a garden. I have squash here, and cucumbers. These are tomatoes, and this—” he paused as he picked up a fuzzy gray pod, and his expression softened. “This I brought with me from the old country. My wife always had poppies by the front door.”

“Then we will plant them by your door here,” I said.

“And yours,” he said, smiling. He cracked the pod open with his gnarled fingers and showed me the hundreds of tiny black seeds inside. “There are plenty to go around.”

“We're going to have a big garden, aren't we?” Aneshka said.

Momma stood abruptly and began gathering our empty bowls. “And who's going to weed and water and tend this garden? That's what I want to know. Lord knows, we have little enough time for our chores as it is now.”