Oh, he says awkwardly. Sorry to hear that.
But I just cry.
Berle looks a little desperate as he holds up his string of fish.
Look! I caught five, he says. You want ’em?
I stop crying, and hiccup.
What am I supposed to do with them?
I don’t know, he says with a helpless shrug. Maybe we can put ’em on some sticks and roast them by your barn?
My mouth drops open.
And I’ll get some spuds, he adds. Fish is always good with spuds.
I feel a little smile coming on.
Can you whip up some dessert? I ask him.
Sure, he says, and grins. Looks like your barn is all warmed up now. Perfect temperature for baking a pie.
I start laughing.
Pappa’s face is gray as the morning sky.
This is terrible, Mamma says, her voice hoarse. And we just finished paying it off!
We’ll get through it, he says tiredly. Jacob says we can put our hay in his barn come harvest.
Mamma puts her hands over her face.
This farm never gets easier, she whispers.
I’m walking out of the henhouse with a basket full of fresh eggs when I see the man wandering around. It’s easy to tell he’s not from around here because he’s short, and he’s wearing a proper suit. The men in these parts are tall as trees and they don’t wear suits, even when they get buried because it would be too much of a waste. Pappa only has one decent Sunday shirt.
Hello there young fella, he says to me.
I ain’t no boy! I say.
The man chuckles and twists his mustache in amusement.
Well, I’ll be darned. The overalls had me fooled, young lady. Is your daddy at home?
I sit the man down in the parlor and fetch Pappa.
Pappa, I say. There’s a fella to see you in the parlor.
The man stands up when Pappa walks in and he holds a card out and says, Your neighbor ‘cross the way suggested I talk to you. Pleased to meet you. I’m F. B. Yerrington.
Pleased meet, Pappa says slowly, his tongue tripping over words like they are roots in the ground. Pappa never got the hang of speaking English.
When I start to walk out of the room, Pappa calls to me and says, in Finnish, Stay.
Yes, Pappa?
I need someone to translate for me, he says gruffly, and I know he is embarrassed.
Pappa hates that he does not understand what folks are saying to him, especially after he got swindled when he sold a cow. He likes one of us children to be with him when he has to speak English. It used to be my older brother Matti but he left so now it’s Wendell. None of the other boys speak English any good at all.
I’ll go fetch Wendell, I say.
I want you, he says.
Me? I say, surprised.
Wendell’s deaf as can be and I want to hear right what this fella has to say. He’s that man Mr. Petersen was talking about. You translate every word he says, you understand me?
Yes, Pappa, I say, and my heart swells with pride that he thinks I’m as good as a boy.
My girl speak for me, Pappa says in rough English to the man.
Why, of course, Mr. Yerrington says, and smiles at me. And what a lovely girl she is!
I translate that for Pappa and he says to me in Finn, Either He’s a Liar, or You Can’t Translate.
Mr. Yerrington starts talking.
As you may have heard, he says, I represent the interests of a group of gentlemen who are looking to develop this part of the country. We believe it is the perfect place for a new town. You have deep water for a port, ready access to timber, and an easy shipping route. We believe this will be the next Seattle, and we are looking for other like-minded men to join us in our venture.
I translate for Pappa as quickly as I can, but I stumble over some of the words and wish that I had paid better attention in the schoolhouse.
Mr. Yerrington pulls out a brochure and hands it to Pappa. It’s printed in English.
FACTS, NOT FANCIES
CONCERNING THE FUTURE
GREAT SEA-PORT
and
COMING CITY OF THE PACIFIC COAST:
STANLEY!
AND THE MAGNIFICENT NASEL HARBOR!
I have some very influential supporters, Mr. Yerrington says. A United States senator is putting up considerable funds and we are anxious to move forward. We even have connections to get the railroad put through here. Powerful connections, he adds for emphasis.
How does it work? Pappa asks.
Should you invest with us, you will become a major stockholder in the Stanley Company. It is our intention to develop the land and sell lots to eager homeowners from back East. Once the majority of the lots have been sold, you will be free to cash in your stock and enjoy your newfound wealth.
Pappa looks uncertain.
Your neighbor, Mr. Petersen, has already agreed to invest, Mr. Yerrington says.
Ask him about Jacob, Pappa orders.
Is Mr. Clayton gonna be part of it? I ask.
It certainly looks that way, Mr. Yerrington says.
Yes, I tell Pappa.
How much are these stocks gonna be worth? Pappa asks.
Mr. Yerrington nods sagely. I can give you a conservative estimate only. Based on previous experience, we would say that your share of the stock will be worth a quarter of a million dollars.
I turn to Pappa and say, A quarter of a million dollars!
The stony look on Pappa’s face never changes, but his eyebrow twitches and I know he’s as shaken by the words as I am.
Opportunities such as this come only once in a lifetime, Mr. Yerrington says, smoothing his mustache.
I’ll think on it, Pappa says.
Late that night, Mamma and Pappa sit talking at the table. I hide by the kitchen door, spying in.
We’d have to take a mortgage out on the farm, he tells Mamma.
It sounds like a good opportunity, Mamma replies.
Oren and Jacob are investing, Pappa says. Jacob isn’t foolish.
Jacob is a wise man, Mamma agrees quickly.
Wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again, Alma, Pappa says, his eyes gleaming.
Build a new barn, Mamma says.
I sneak back upstairs to the bedroom I share with Wilbert. He’s already asleep and he’s stolen all the covers as usual. I would give anything to have my own bed. I shake him awake.
You think Pappa will invest? I whisper to Wilbert.
I don’t know, he says sleepily, and I look out the window.
Maybe Kaarlo was wrong and this Farm isn’t a Misery. Maybe it’s a Fortune after all.
Wilbert, I say, maybe we can be the Fortunates instead of the Miserables.
May, he says with a yawn, all I want to be is Asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Most Wicked Place
Pappa decides to go in on the Stanley venture. He tells us at breakfast and by lunchtime, he’s had me translate the paperwork Mr. Yerrington left behind three times. When Pappa’s finally satisfied that he understands everything, he nods.
Joo, he says. This is the answer to our troubles.
I pick up the pen to sign his name but he shakes his head and signs it himself. He never went to proper school, but he can still sign his name.
Jalmer Jackson
These are dreaming days for all us Jackson children for now we can see what might be, like a blue sky or a warm breeze. The rain and storms and mud are forgotten and we’re dry as can be and full of hope for the future.
Kaarlo is like a condemned man who has been unexpectedly pardoned.
Finally, he says. Finally I can make my own way.
Maybe you can get your ears fixed now, I tell Wendell.
What’d you say? he asks.
Maybe You Can Get Your Ears Fixed!
You don’t have to shout, he says.
What do you want, May? Isaiah asks, and it’s not even a question in my mind.
New Shoes! I say.
Trying to impress Berle? Wilbert asks.
Berle? I say.
He’s sweet on you.
There’s nothing sweet about Berle, I say.
Or you, Wilbert says with a knowing sniff. When’s the last time you had a bath?
Mr. Yerrington comes by a few days later to collect the papers. He gives Pappa some fancy-looking Stock Certificates in the Stanley Company.
Put them somewhere safe, he advises Pappa.
And then almost as an afterthought, he pulls some money out of his pocket and hands it to Pappa.
A token of our appreciation, Mr. Yerrington says.
Pappa counts it and looks up, shocked. A hundred dollars! Pappa says.
You are our partner now. Mr. Yerrington winks at me. Buy a pretty dress for your little girl here.
That’s a waste of good money, I say, but Mr. Yerrington just laughs.
That night we sit around the kitchen table staring at the stock certificates and the money. I’ve never seen so much money in my whole life and Pappa says this is just the beginning.
Should we build a new barn, Jalmer? Mamma asks.
Pappa’s eyes soften and then he says something I never in all my born years expected him to say.
The barn can wait, he says. First thing we get is a boughten dress for you.
Oh, Jalmer, Mamma says and leans forward and kisses him.
I never did understand how she could kiss such a scratchy beard, but she don’t seem to mind one bit.
Pappa takes us shopping in Astoria. Astoria has dance halls and gambling parlors and opium dens and saloons and bawdy houses. Folks says it is the Most Wicked Place on Earth and that you can’t walk down the street without meeting the Devil himself. I don’t know about the Devil, but I can’t wait to see Aunt Alice, who is Mamma’s sister.
Astoria is across the Columbia River and it is a boat ride from Nasel, so Uncle Aarno takes us on the General Custer. Poor Isaiah must remain behind on the farm to mind the animals.
You mortgaged the farm, Jalmer? Uncle Aarno asks.
Joo, Pappa says.
I could have helped you out if you needed it, my uncle says to my father.
Pappa’s lips tighten and Uncle Aarno sighs.
You’re more stubborn than she was, Uncle Aarno mutters under his breath.
Uncle Aarno and Pappa were Best Brothers once, like me and Wilbert. But then Grandma Patience died and she left everything to Uncle Aarno and nothing to anyone else. Pappa has never forgiven his mamma for this, especially since we were the ones who took her in at the end and she was mean as a snake. But like Wilbert said, it’s just like her to cause trouble, even Dead.
Astoria rises on a hill, the houses like pretty little eggs perched on hay. The docks are crowded with ships from faraway places. The gold rush here comes not from digging in the ground but from harvesting the sea. Fortunes are made in salmon and oysters.
We walk along taking in the sights. Ladies in beautiful skirts of blue and red and gold linger in doorways, smiling. There is a show playing at the Casino that features Juanita and Minnette in Their Wondrous Serpentine Dance. A bird with feathers the colors of the rainbow squawks from a cage hung outside a window. When we pass, the bird whistles lustily and says, Hey, Pete! What you doing down there! Come on up and enjoy yourself!
I turn to Wilbert and say, Wicked Places sure are a lot more exciting than Nasel!
When we walk through the part of town where the Chinamen live, Mamma looks around nervously, eyeing the women in their loose dresses.
They’re all so strange, she says.
Pappa takes us to a dry goods store and tells us that we may each pick out one thing.
Wendell goes straight to the counter where there is a small selection of books.
Alvin and Ivan choose matching hats.
Wilbert picks a new belt of soft leather.
Kaarlo slides a coat on, looking at himself in the mirror.
Mamma picks out a fancy dress for herself, and a shirt for Pappa.
Can I help you, miss? the storekeeper asks me.
Do you have any shoes? I ask.
Certainly, he says, and pulls some out. These just came in last week from San Francisco.
I sit on a stool and the man slides them on my feet. They’re polished black, high with little buttons down the front. They’re beautiful and they fit my feet like a second skin.
They’re the very latest fashion. All the ladies in Paris are wearing them, the man tells me.
What about the ladies in Nasel? I ask.
Pappa pays the man with the new money, and when I walk out of the store, my feet float on the plank-board walkway.
Then everyone heads off in their own direction. Kaarlo says he wants to see a friend, and Alvin and Ivan mumble something about pretty girls, and Wendell says he just wants to wander around alone. Wilbert and me have plans of our own.
Be sure to be at Aunt Alice’s for supper, Mamma says.
Pappa shouts after us, And Stay Away From The Wicked Places!
Wilbert and me race down an alley straight to the back door of Mariah’s Tavern, the most notorious saloon in all of Astoria. Everyone says that Mariah had her own husband shanghaied to get rid of him. I don’t care if she did. She makes the best corn fritters in the whole world.
As I live and breathe, Mariah drawls. If it isn’t May Amelia Jackson.
The Widow Mariah has a long single braid of white hair going down her back, and rumor has it that she keeps her money in the stockings on her legs.
Hiya, Mariah! I say.
What about me? Wilbert asks.
I am full to the gills with men around here, Wilbert. It’s very rare I get to see a young lady like your sister here.
I ain’t no lady, I say.
How’ve you children been? she asks.
We’ve been wet, I say. We live in Nasel.
She chuckles.
Hi, May! Hi, Wilbert! a voice says and I whirl and see a brown-haired boy sitting on a rough stool, a plate of fritters balanced on his knee.
It’s my old friend, Otto Cheng. Otto’s a Chinaman, but he speaks English and Finn, too. He’s the smartest boy I ever met and he knows all the good places for adventure in Astoria.
Otto! I say. What are you doing here?
Where else would I be? he asks. I can’t resist Mariah’s fritters.
Mariah rolls her eyes at Otto and says, He was here this morning, too.
Those are mighty tasty-looking fritters, I say.
Mariah mock-groans and says, Oh, go on and take some. I don’t turn away drunk sailors; I won’t turn away hungry children.
We fill our bellies with the fritters fresh from the oven. They’re so good that I imagine if I died and went to heaven, the clouds would be full of Mariah’s fritters.
Mariah admires my new shoes.
My, what fine shoes, Mariah says. You find Old Landsman’s treasure?
Mr. Landsman was one of the first settlers in the area, and he buried his gold somewhere but nobody’s ever been able to find it.
Pappa invested in the Stanley Company and we’re rich now, I say.
What company is that?
The one that’s building the new town! Pappa bought me these shoes and They’re The Latest Paris Fashion!
She laughs and says, And they go perfectly with your overalls.
Out in the barroom, someone is raising a ruckus. A glass breaks and a man shouts, It ain’t right! These Chinamen take jobs from honest men!
Another yells, All Chinamen Should Go Home!
Mariah’s lips thin and she opens the door and hollers, If you men don’t settle down, I’m getting Big Ben.
The room goes hush-quiet and I hear murmured apologies.
Mariah gives us a satisfied look.
Works every time, she says.
Big Ben must be a real scary fellow, I say.
Oh, believe me, he is, she says, and nods at the wall behind her where there’s a rifle on a shelf.
Someone’s carved in it: BIG BEN.
Otto takes us to the cannery where his parents work. His daddy is the foreman. It’s not hard to miss if you’ve got a nose. Just follow the smell of fish guts.
The inside of the cannery is buzzing with knives chopping and fish parts flying everywhere. This one cans salmon, which is real popular with folks back East. I think if I worked in here, I wouldn’t ever want to eat a bite of salmon again. The workers are mostly men, although there are some women. It is one of the few places a respectable lady can work around here. It is also the stinkiest, slimiest place I have ever seen in my life. I’d rather muck out a hundred cow stalls than work here.
There’s my mother, Otto says.
We go over to Otto’s mother’s table. It’s her job to cut off the head and the tail and the fins of the salmon and she does it right quick. The fella next to her takes out the guts, and the next one the scales. By the time they’re finished with the fish, you never even would’ve guessed that it once swam in the Columbia.
Otto’s mamma says something to Otto in Chinese. She’s just like Pappa and Mamma; she can’t speak English. It’s up to all us children to do the talking.
My mother says that she likes your shoes, May Amelia, Otto says.
They’re the latest Paris fashion, I say, and when Otto translates back to his mother, she gives me a wry look and says something to Otto.
Mamma wants to know if the ladies from Paris stand in fish guts, too?
After that, Otto takes us to the spot of a recent murder. It’s near the water, in a dangerous part of Astoria. Not that that stops us.
That’s where it happened, Otto says, pointing to an outhouse sitting on planks not far from a rooming house. There is a geranium set in front of the outhouse.
He got shot in the outhouse? I ask.
No, Otto says. The outhouse murdered him!
Otto explains that the man was doing his business when the rotten planks broke and he fell into the water below and drowned.
That sure would be a bad way to die, Wilbert says with a low whistle.
Otto admires Wilbert’s belt. I like your belt.
Just got it, Wilbert replies.
So your family is rich now? Otto asks.
We will be, I say. We got the stock papers.
My father says you are not a rich man unless you hold money in your hand, Otto says.
The Trouble with May Amelia Page 4
