The Trouble with May Amelia

by Jennifer L. Holm

  Mr. Yerrington said the stock papers are worth a quarter of a million dollars, I say.

  Who’s Mr. Yerrington? Otto asks.

  The man from the Stanley Company, I say.

  Otto raises an eyebrow. Papers worth that much money? It sounds too good to be true.

  You don’t understand, Otto, I say. It is Different here in America.

  Aunt Alice lives in a pretty house on the hill. She hasn’t got herself a husband, but she has a Gentleman Friend who does not live with her and buys her all sorts of fine things. Far as I can tell, it’s better to have a Gentleman Friend than a Husband. Pappa doesn’t approve of Aunt Alice, but then he doesn’t approve of much.

  There you children are! We were getting worried! she exclaims when she opens the door.

  My aunt is very beautiful, with her silk dresses and her hair twisted in a cunning knot. She has lived here for so long that Mamma says she is a City Girl and wouldn’t know how to milk a cow if she had to. If I could live in a house like this, I wouldn’t mind one bit if I never milked a cow again.

  Supper is a festive occasion. Aunt Alice is always cooking American-style dishes from Mrs. Fannie Farmer’s cookbook. Tonight she has made beef stew with dumplings, chicken potpie, potato curls, and bread and butter pudding. Pappa prefers Finn food, but I don’t care none if the food is American. It’s Delicious.

  Mamma tells Aunt Alice all about Pappa investing in the Stanley Company.

  How thrilling! My aunt claps. You’ve both worked so hard.

  I’ve worked hard, too! I say.

  Hard at being stinky, Ivan says. What is that terrible smell?

  I got fish guts on my shoes when we visited Otto’s mother at the cannery, I say.

  The canneries are having a lot of accidents, Aunt Alice says. Those poor Chinamen.

  Dirty work, Pappa agrees.

  Kaarlo says, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we open an oyster cannery of our own when the money from the stocks comes in? With some of the Finn men? We give everybody a share.

  Pappa looks at Kaarlo appraisingly.

  We’ll see, Pappa says, which is the closest thing to a Yes Kaarlo will ever get.

  Kaarlo looks down, but I know he is smiling.

  It grows dark and Aunt Alice takes me out to the porch. We watch the lamplighter move along the streets lighting the gas lamps and soon Astoria twinkles like the sky above.

  My aunt stares out into the night and says, It looks like your life is changing, my dear.

  Maybe Pappa will let us move here to Astoria. I’m tired of living with so many boys, I tell her.

  Aunt Alice arches her eyebrow, and says, My dear, there are boys everywhere. And every last one of them wants to find his fortune.

  Are there that many fortunes to find? I ask.

  For every lucky man who gets rich, there are a hundred who don’t, she says and shrugs.

  It’s a good thing then that Pappa’s one of the lucky ones!

  She smiles down at me. You are such a dear, dear girl. You deserve every happiness in the world.

  I’d settle for my own bed, I say.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Devil You Know

  This morning in church, the preacher talked about the Devil, and how the Devil Has Been Wandering Around Nasel, and how we best Watch Out and not be taken in by His Tricks.

  Wilbert, I say. Why would the Devil want to come to Nasel, where all it does is rain? You’d think he’d want to be somewhere hotter.

  Maybe he likes the saunas, Wilbert says.

  After church, Wilbert and me take the rowboat and go fishing. We set out our lines where the fishies are fat and lazy.

  I’m gonna ask Pappa if I can go to the sauna on Saturday night, Wilbert says.

  Finns like saunas and Saturday night is Sauna Night around here. The men go over to Mr. Petersen’s and take their sauna. Young boys like Wilbert aren’t allowed to join the men’s sauna until they grow up and have beards.

  You ain’t got no whiskers, I tell him.

  I got one right here, he insists, pointing to his chin, which is bare as a baby’s bottom.

  Why do you want to go so bad anyhow? I ask him.

  He frowns at me. To hear the talk, of course.

  I can’t imagine what talk that will be, seeing as Finn men ain’t very good at talking to begin with. One time Pappa’s cousin Isaak came to visit from Finland. Pappa hadn’t seen him since he was a boy. When he finally saw Isaak all he said was Glad to See You, Isaak, and Isaak said Likewise, Jalmer, and then they sat in the parlor smoking pipes and saying nothing. You’d think you’d have something to say after forty years but I Guess Not.

  We catch three fish only and when we get home we leave our bucket by the front door along with our muddy shoes. Mamma is sitting at the table slicing potatoes.

  Mamma, I says, we caught three fish!

  We’ll have them for supper, she says. Go on and clean them up for me, please.

  But when we go back outside, there is no sign of the fish anywhere.

  Maybe the Devil took them! I say.

  Wilbert goes behind the henhouse and says, The Devil took them all right.

  And there’s Bosie eating our fish.

  The Devil sure is furry, I say.

  Wilbert’s got his heart set on going to the men’s sauna, and asks Pappa.

  You’re Just a Boy, son.

  I ain’t no boy, Wilbert grumbles to me.

  Why don’t we just sneak up and listen in on them? I say, and Wilbert grins at me.

  We wait till all the men are in the sauna and then slip over and sit outside, listening. They talk about the price for cream and what’s the best way to get rid of bunions. But mostly they talk about how they would give anything for a good pair of socks because there’s nothing worse than cold wet feet when you’re trying to chop down a tree. It’s so boring I may as well be in church.

  Any news of your niece and nephew? Mr. Petersen asks.

  I hear Pappa’s gruff voice and am surprised.

  Someone’s supposed to be bringing them over, Pappa says.

  High price to pay to come to America, Mr. Clayton adds.

  How’d they catch him anyway? Kaarlo asks.

  The Devil never bothered to throw out his bloody clothes, Pappa says. Just hid ’em in his hayloft.

  My ears prick up at Devil and I whisper to Wilbert, What’re they talking about?

  He shrugs and a moment later the door slams open and a bunch of naked men walk out, their behinds as bright as the full moon shining down on them.

  If the Devil was here, he’s scared away now after seeing that sight for sure!

  I am spooning out dessert for everyone—riisipuuro—when there’s a knock at the door.

  Two children thin as shadows are standing there, the preacher behind them. The little girl isn’t more than three and has white-blond hair that’s tied back in a dirty braid. The boy has a thick woolly scarf wrapped around his neck almost to his chin and is so thin that there’s not enough meat on him to feed a sparrow.

  Your folks home? the preacher asks me.

  Mamma! Pappa! I call. Preacher’s here.

  Mamma gasps when she sees the little girl. Ana’s children? she asks, and tears start running down her face.

  They showed up on a boat in Astoria, the preacher says. When I went by their father’s place, he wasn’t there.

  He had to go to Seattle to take care of some business, Pappa says, stepping forward. Won’t be back for a week or so. I don’t think he was expecting them yet.

  Boat got in early, the preacher explains.

  My mother can’t stop staring at the little girl.

  She looks just like Ana did at that age, Mamma says.

  Can they stay here until their father comes back? the preacher asks Pappa.

  ‘Course, he says.

  My mother shoos the children inside, saying Oh, you poor things! Come in where it’s warm.

  They stand awkwardly in the parlor looking around with cur
ious eyes.

  Did they bring anything with them? Mamma asks the preacher and he replies, Just the clothes on their back.

  Judging by the smell, the clothes have been on their back for a long time. They stink worse than the milk tureens when they’ve been left in the sun.

  Mamma sizes up both children and says, I’ll go find some clean clothes. May Amelia, you give them something to eat.

  The children follow me into the kitchen and the little girl climbs onto a bench and the boy sits next to Wilbert. I fix up two bowls of riisipuuro and bring them over. The girl eats hers so fast that we children just stare at her. I’ve never seen anyone eat that fast before, and I live with boys.

  You want some more? I ask and she nods and I fill her bowl again and it disappears just as fast and she holds out her bowl.

  More, she says, so I fill it again.

  Meanwhile, the boy’s not even lifting his spoon. He just keeps looking around, his eyes fixing on Bosie who’s licking clean a bucket of dirty dishes.

  For this? the boy says with disgust.

  You don’t like riisipuuro? I ask. I can put some more sugar on it if you want.

  For This Is Why We Come From Finland? he practically spits out. This place in the middle of nowhere?

  The boys and I look at each other, but no one says anything.

  The girl holds out her empty bowl.

  You want more? I ask her.

  More! she demands.

  And then she makes a face and opens her mouth and every bit of riisipuuro she ate comes back up, all over the front of me.

  Kaarlo shakes his head, and says, I Think She’s Had Enough.

  The dirty children turn out to be our cousins, Helmi and Jaakko. They are Uncle Niihlo’s kids and they have come to America without their mother because she has died, although nobody will say how.

  Mamma finds an old dress of mine for Helmi and Jaakko fits just fine into a pair of Wilbert’s overalls, but he refuses to take off his filthy scarf. He wears it twined tightly around his neck no matter the time of day and even sleeps with it on. He is nervous and quiet-like and reminds me of a cow that’s been spooked.

  Mamma gives Jaakko and Helmi my and Wilbert’s old bedroom. It has a nice view of the Nasel, but Jaakko doesn’t seem pleased. If he thinks our place is bad, just wait until he sees Uncle Niihlo’s cabin. It is little more than a shack, what the men call a Bachelor House, just raw wood floors, no rugs, no curtains, and a mattress stuffed with straw.

  Wilbert and me sleep in with Wendell and Isaiah. I wake up in the middle of the night and make my way to the outhouse in the dark. When I walk back in the house I hear a swoosh and a fire poker is flying at me. I dodge, tumbling to the floor. When I look up, Jaakko is standing over me brandishing the poker and breathing heavily.

  Don’t hit me! I say.

  What were you doing out there?

  I was just using the outhouse! I tell him, but he doesn’t lower the poker.

  I heard a noise, he insists. Someone’s out there.

  That was me.

  He doesn’t look convinced. But before I can say anything else, Pappa comes stomping into the room. He takes in the scene, and barks at Jaakko, Put Down That Poker, Son!

  Jaakko’s hands open and the poker falls to the floor with a clatter.

  What are you children doing out of bed? Pappa demands.

  I heard someone outside, Jaakko says in a low voice.

  It was just me using the outhouse! I tell Pappa.

  Pappa looks at Jaakko with pity in his eyes and says, Go To Bed. It will be morning soon enough.

  The boys and I are on our way to the schoolhouse and I tell them about what happened during the night with Jaakko, and they look between each other and I know they are keeping a secret from me because they are terrible secret keepers.

  Finally Isaiah says, May as well tell her. She’ll find out soon enough with her Big Ears.

  I ain’t got big ears, I say. What’s the secret?

  That Aunt Ana was murdered in cold blood! Wendell blurts out.

  You can’t even hear, and you knew before me? I ask.

  You’re a girl, May, he says. We didn’t want to scare you.

  Nothing scares me, I say.

  Isaiah goes on to tell me the Terrible Tale. Aunt Ana had sold their house in Finland so that she and the children might finally join Uncle Niihlo. On the night before they were to set sail to come to America, someone broke into their house and stabbed Aunt Ana and Jaakko with a hunting knife and left them for dead and took all the money from the sale of the house. When a friend came by in the morning to take them to the dock, he found Ana dead and Jaakko barely alive and little Helmi hiding in a closet.

  Jaakko got stabbed all around his neck, Wilbert says. That’s why he wears that scarf all the time.

  And here I was just thinking he was cold.

  Helmi is playful with the boys, but Jaakko doesn’t want anything to do with us children. The only soul he can bear near him is Bosie, and Bosie seems to like Jaakko, too. Our scruffy dog trails after our strange cousin wherever he goes.

  Jaakko’s eyes never stop moving and now I know it is because he is looking for the Devil to come out of the darkness and finish the job. He jumps at every noise and his back is never turned to the door no matter what room he is in. And he doesn’t sleep, not one wink. We all hear him pacing the house at night. The circles under his eyes are thick smudges of gray.

  We Gotta Do Something, I say to Wilbert.

  What’s there to do? Wilbert says. His daddy will be here any day now. He’ll take care of him.

  But I’m not waiting on Uncle Niihlo.

  Breakfast has been cleared and there is no school today, so I say to Jaakko, You want to come fishing with me? We can catch supper?

  He hesitates, and Mamma says, That’s a lovely idea, May Amelia. And you’ll catch more with two fishermen.

  I’ll come, Jaakko says reluctantly.

  Bosie comes, too, hopping into the rowboat after Jaakko.

  It is a beautiful day—no rain, just a soft warm wind, all sweet-smelling and green. You can almost hear summer tumbling down the mountains. I row to the Baby Island, but when we get there I don’t pick up our fishing poles.

  I want to show you something, I say, and I take him to the old sorcerer tree.

  What’s this? he asks.

  You can sleep here, I say.

  Sleep? he echoes.

  This is the safest place ever, I explain. Even the Devil can’t get you here.

  The Devil? He gives a sharp laugh. I ain’t worried about the Devil. I’m more worried about that fellow who lives next to you. The one with the hand.

  You mean our neighbor, Mr. Clayton?

  He nods.

  Mr. Clayton would never hurt you, I tell him.

  But Jaakko’s eyes are stark with fear. My Neighbor was the one who killed my mother and tried to kill me!

  Your neighbor? I whisper.

  I knew him. I went to church with him.

  I shake my head.

  And it could happen again here, my cousin says, his eyes full of worry. You never know what your neighbors are gonna do.

  Our neighbors are real nice, I say. Mr. Clayton bakes good pies, too.

  Jaakko shakes his head, and says, You can’t tell from looking at a person.

  The breeze blows.

  No neighbors here on the Baby Island, I say. And nobody knows about the sorcerer tree except me and Wilbert.

  He stares at the tree, his face pinched. Bosie licks Jaakko’s hand.

  Go on, I say. Me and Bosie will watch over you.

  I expect him to say No, but he just nods wearily.

  My cousin Jaakko curls up in the old sorcerer tree and closes his eyes and Sleeps.

  Uncle Niihlo arrives the next morning to fetch his children. Jaakko flies into his daddy’s arms and hugs him tight.

  My boy, Uncle Niilho weeps. My brave, brave boy.

  But when my uncle holds out his arms to Helmi, she
clings to Mamma’s skirts.

  Oh, Helmi, Uncle Niihlo says, his eyes wet. You look just like your sweet mother. Come give Pappa a hug.

  Helmi whimpers, her eyes fearful.

  Uncle Niihlo looks at Mamma. I don’t think she remembers me. She was just a babe when I came here.

  Mamma says, She’s been through a lot.

  Maybe it would be best if she stayed a spell with you, Uncle Niihlo says. Can you keep her for a bit longer?

  Of course, Mamma says a little too quickly. We can keep them both if you’d like.

  No, my boy comes with me, he says, his arm tight around his son.

  You want to borrow Bosie? I ask Jaakko.

  Borrow?

  Looks like we’re borrowing your sister for a while, I say. Bosie’s loud. Barks up a storm if anyone comes near the house.

  He hesitates for a moment and then he says, I’ll take good care of him.

  I know, I say.

  Uncle Niihlo rows smoothly across the water, Bosie yipping away.

  Why’d you give him our dog? Wilbert asks after they leave.

  He’s just borrowing him, I say.

  What’s he need him for?

  To scare away the Devil, I say.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Sweetest Child Ever

  Helmi settles into our house as comfortably as one of Buttons’s own kittens. She’s playful as one, too—running and chattering and smiling her big smile. All the boys dote on her, picking her up and tickling her just to hear her giggle. It’s like they’ve never seen a little girl before.

  Wendell, who’s always been the best seamstress in the family, sews Helmi dresses out of homespun and Isaiah brings her a baby chick. Ivan and Alvin build her a little wagon and pull her around in the dirt until she squeals. Kaarlo, who never has a kind word for anyone, hoists her up on his shoulders and walks her out to the fields and shows her the cows and the tidelands and the Nasel.

  Mamma spends hours braiding and brushing Helmi’s hair until it gleams like fresh milk. She gives Helmi a little stool to stand on in the kitchen next to her. Helmi stirs empty pots like she’s trying to cook. The truth is, Mamma can hardly bear to let Helmi out of her sight.

  Even Pappa is charmed by her. He calls her Kukka which means Flower and she calls him Faari which means Grandfather. She runs up to him and he growls at her like a cranky old bear, but she just tugs on his whiskers until he belly-laughs and tosses her into the air.