The Trouble with May Amelia

by Jennifer L. Holm

  He coming to rescue us? Kaarlo prods me.

  No, I whisper.

  ‘Course he ain’t, Kaarlo says scornfully. All he cares about is his new wife and his fancy life in San Francisco!

  I bite my lip.

  Kaarlo explodes.

  Matti’s lucky! he shouts. He got out! And we’re stuck here, like cows in the mud!

  And then he whirls away and covers his eyes with his hands and moans, his whole body shuddering like he is holding back a sob.

  Kaarlo? Lonny asks fearfully.

  Kaarlo looks up, his eyes hollow.

  I don’t even blame him for not coming back here, he whispers. I’d do the same thing if I was in his place. I could clear these fields day in and day out and they’ll never be ready to make hay in the summer. It’s hukkareissu.

  Ivan and Wendell and Lonny are all staring at Kaarlo with despair in their faces and I feel the same way. We can take him being stubborn and angry and scowling and shouting, but we cannot take his tears because if Kaarlo loses faith—if Kaarlo gives up—then there is no hope for the rest of us Jacksons. I don’t need a lump of lead to tell me what will happen. I hafta do something fast.

  I look around, and my eyes fall on the basket.

  I say, Who Wants Pie?

  Everyone looks at me.

  Ivan looks at me like I have gone crazy. What?

  Mrs. Clayton gave me a pie, I say. Let’s eat it!

  What kind of pie is it? Wendell asks.

  Apple, I say.

  But we haven’t had our supper yet, Lonny says, looking confused. We can’t eat our dessert first.

  Ivan says, Sure we can!

  Why not? agrees Wendell.

  What do you think, Kaarlo? I ask in a soft voice, like I’m talking to a baby or a skittish horse. You want some pie?

  Kaarlo is staring at the floor. He takes a deep breath and then looks up slowly. His eyes meet mine and he sighs.

  I’ll take a slice, he says.

  We have lost everything—we have no farm, we have no hens, and we have no money. But we have a pie. And for a brief moment, it is enough.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Pearl of Nasel

  Not a single person answers the ads. It seems that no one can be lured into teaching us children. I guess educated folks don’t want to live in the middle of nowhere where it rains all the time.

  It is almost Christmas when Mrs. Clayton agrees to return to the schoolhouse. Her sweet face is the best present we have ever had.

  Good morning, children, she says.

  Good morning, Miss McEwing, we say.

  Mrs. Clayton, she corrects.

  You got to be Miss McEwing to us, I say.

  Married ladies aren’t allowed to teach, Charles tells her.

  That’s the rules! Lonny exclaims.

  Sometimes rules are made to be broken, she says.

  And I guess she’s right. You have to think Different in a place where bulls attack your schoolhouse and you learn in your under-drawers.

  Can we break the Rule About Speaking English? Charles asks in a hopeful voice.

  Sinä menet kouluun, our teacher says in perfect Finn.

  Uncle Aarno’s mate Tuuni comes to see me. His eyes are worried.

  I think you should look in on your uncle, he says.

  What’s wrong? I ask.

  He got knocked off the boat two days ago. He was in the water for a while and he seemed okay when I fished him out, but I think he might need to see the doctor. Problem is, he thinks he’s fine.

  Wendell and I go to Uncle Aarno’s house. Our uncle is in his yard tanning fishing nets so that they will last longer in the water. His head is bandaged under his cap and his face looks a little gray. It’s hard work, even for a healthy man, and he looks like he’s been at it all day.

  Hiya, Uncle Aarno! I say. I hear you got knocked off the boat.

  Boom hit me. Didn’t even see it coming, he says.

  Maybe you should go to the doctor in Astoria, I say.

  Nothing wrong with me, he dismisses. I’m fit as a fiddle. Just got a headache.

  Mind if I take a look at your head? Wendell asks. You know, I want to be a doctor.

  Don’t see why not, Uncle Aarno says, and sits on a stump.

  Wendell goes over and takes Uncle Aarno’s cap off and touches his skull. His eyes widen in surprise.

  I think we need to fetch the doctor, May, Wendell says in a flat voice.

  There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just a headache, Uncle Aarno insists.

  Wendell waves me over and puts my hand on Uncle Aarno’s skull and twists gently.

  Uncle Aarno’s skull moves with my hand.

  No wonder he’s got a headache, I murmur.

  Wendell declares it’s too dangerous to move Uncle Aarno, so Tuuni fetches the doctor to come to us. When the doctor examines Uncle Aarno’s skull, he almost faints.

  Good heavens, man! the doctor scolds. It’s been broken clear around! Your brains could spill out at any minute! What were you thinking walking around with a loose skull?

  Uncle Aarno just chuckles weakly and says, Guess all my Good Sense must have gotten knocked out.

  Wendell stays and takes care of Uncle Aarno. The mail must still be delivered, so I do the sorting and Tuuni sails me up and down the river to make the deliveries.

  I hand a letter to Mrs. Paarvala. She opens it and sighs sadly.

  What’s the matter? I ask her. Bad news?

  No news, she says. I can’t read it. It’s in English.

  I’ll translate it for you, I offer.

  A few days later, Mr. Hasalm, Charles’s father, shows up with a letter.

  Did I deliver it wrong? I ask.

  No, Mr. Hasalm says. I was hoping you would translate it for me.

  Me? I ask.

  Yes, he says with a smile. Mrs. Paarvala says you’re the best translator around here.

  Soon folks are showing up at Uncle Aarno’s house with letters for me to translate.

  Eventually Uncle Aarno takes back his place delivering the mail, but the accident has spooked him. He doesn’t want to gillnet anymore and he sells his boat to Tuuni.

  Wilbert sends word from the logging camp that he and the rest of the boys need socks bad. I take all the ones that we can spare and make the long cold walk through the thick woods to the camp.

  The boys are almost as happy to see me as I am to see them.

  Isaiah swears he isn’t missing the sheeps and doesn’t even seem upset when I tell him that all our hens got eaten. But I reckon that has something to do with a pretty Swedish girl named Birgit who is helping out in the camp kitchen. She’s all he can talk about.

  All Alvin wants to talk about is Ivan.

  How is he? Alvin demands.

  He’s fine, I say.

  A guilty look flashes across his face and he starts talking fast, so fast I barely understand him.

  I didn’t want to leave him, honest, Alvin says. I worry about him every single second but Pappa said I Had to work, said we Needed the money desperate-like and—

  I interrupt him, and say, He’s doing all the cooking now.

  But how? Alvin asks in shock. How can he do anything? He’s only got One Hand!

  He’s figuring things out, I say.

  Maybe it was good that I came here after all, Alvin says in a thoughtful voice.

  Maybe it was, I say.

  * * *

  I find my cousin laughing with some of the men. Jaakko’s cheeks are ruddy from the cold and his neck is bare for every soul to see, but not one of these big men looks at it twice.

  Hiya, May, he says. Come to see the boys?

  I brought socks, I say, and hand him a pair.

  Thanks, he says.

  I look at his neck. You want me to make you a new scarf?

  Jaakko doesn’t hesitate.

  I don’t need one, he says.

  Your dad find a wife yet?

  He’s courting a Chinook lady who lives down the way
.

  Jane? I ask in surprise, and he nods.

  She’ll make a good mamma, I tell him.

  If we don’t scare her off first, my cousin says, looking a little worried. Helmi’s not so sweet anymore. She’s a real terror! Yesterday, she got into the kitchen and spilled the flour everywhere. Cook’s still mad at her.

  Huh, I say, but I hafta admit that I am secretly pleased.

  You know where Wilbert’s at? I ask.

  Jaakko gestures over his shoulder.

  He says, You know, you could make a lot of money selling socks to the men. I heard the owners talking that they’re gonna make fifty thousand dollars when they splash this load of trees!

  That’s an awful lot of socks, I say.

  I find my Best Brother scaling a tree like a little bear cub. He’s way up high in the branches.

  I thought you were the whistle punk, I shout.

  May! Wilbert cries, and he scurries down the tree.

  It’s only been a little while, but he looks different. He’s all ropey now, and he holds his shoulders back as if he knows his place in this world.

  You’re a sight for sore eyes, he says. What are you doing here?

  I brought socks, I say.

  The men weren’t kidding when they complained about how there’s nothing worse than cold feet, he says.

  You like it up here? I ask.

  It’s hard, but I’m learning a lot.

  I moved back in with Kaarlo and the boys, I tell him, and Wilbert looks down, ashamed.

  The silence between us is like a boat in the Nasel. Wouldn’t take much for it to tip over and drown us both.

  I’m sorry I didn’t go after you that day, he says in a low voice.

  And I don’t have to ask which day.

  Wilbert swallows. It just felt like the whole world was falling apart.

  I know, I say.

  And that’s the end of it. I can’t hold a grudge against my Best Brother. After all, he’s the Only Wilbert I Got.

  It’s nearly dark by the time I start back for home. I’m on the edge of the camp when a voice calls my name.

  May Amelia.

  It’s a voice I know so well that I don’t even have to look back to see who it is. I can see his whiskery beard already.

  May Amelia, my father says again, and I turn around.

  Hello, Pappa, I say.

  What are you doing here? he asks gruffly. He looks so old to me, like a shoe that’s been worn out and has a falling-off sole.

  I brought socks for the boys.

  He opens his mouth as if he is going to say something, and then I hear a man holler, Jalmer! We Need You Over Here Now! and he closes his eyes and when he opens them there is something in them—regret.

  I better start back home, I say.

  May Amelia, Pappa says, his voice hoarse.

  Jalmer! the man shouts.

  Bye, Pappa, I say and I turn and walk quickly into the woods.

  The whole family comes for Christmas Eve—all the boys, and Mamma, and Pappa, and Uncle Aarno, too. There is a Christmas tree, a bare spruce tree chopped down by Kaarlo this very morning. We wish each other Hyvää Joulua, and there are venison pies and the traditional Finnish prune tarts. But it doesn’t feel the same in this crammed little cabin. It’s not the warm house where we spent so many Christmas Eves.

  Uncle Niihlo walks in with Jane and my cousins. Helmi is wearing a pair of overalls.

  She looks like you now, Wendell observes.

  Uncle Aarno has dressed up as Joulupukki, what the Americans call Saint Nicholas.

  Are there any Good Children in this house? he booms, which is what Joulupukki always says.

  Helmi runs up and kicks him hard in the shin and he doubles over in pain.

  I Guess Not, I say to Wilbert.

  Soon the little cabin is filled with my brothers shouting over each other to be heard. I’d forgotten how loud so many boys together could be. Bosie runs around barking. Alvin and Ivan sit next to each other chattering away so fast that no one can understand them. Jane and Mamma linger at the stove, catching on up the goings-on in the valley and which babies have been born.

  Mamma looks over at me and smiles. Can you fetch some more wood for the stove, May Amelia?

  I go outside to where the sky is clear and cold. There is wood enough stacked next to the house to keep a hundred stoves burning, what with all the trees the boys have been felling to clear the land. And there are more trees still. They seem to go on forever like the fishies swimming in the river. Why my poor brothers will spend their lives chopping down trees to get this farm in order. It’s like we are running our very own logging company.

  The words echo in my head.

  Our very own logging company.

  And that’s when I know. Sisu isn’t about scaring bears out of hollowed-out trees. It’s keeping going when everything looks hopeless and sad. I may be a Useless Girl, but I have finally found my sisu, and I have enough for everyone.

  I drop the wood and run inside, slamming the door open. Everyone stops talking.

  What’s wrong? Wilbert asks in alarm.

  Cougar? Ivan asks.

  What if we started our own logging company? I burst out.

  Start a logging company? Mamma asks, a worried look on her face.

  Jaakko told me they’re figuring on making fifty thousand dollars splashing the next load! I say.

  It’s true, Uncle Niihlo agrees.

  Why we practically got our own logging crew with all the boys, I point out.

  My brothers glance around at each other warily.

  No more cows stuck in the mud, Wilbert muses.

  Or sheeps, Isaiah says, sounding a little sad.

  A frown crosses Kaarlo’s face. It takes money to buy equipment. The bank won’t give us a loan.

  The whole room goes hush-quiet.

  But I will, Uncle Aarno says.

  Everyone looks at him.

  I’ve got the money from selling the boat, Uncle Aarno says. It’s enough to get us started.

  Then he looks at my father, and says, It’s half your money, too, Jalmer. It always has been.

  Pappa doesn’t say anything, but Uncle Aarno keeps talking.

  We partner three ways. Jalmer and me put up the money and Niihlo puts up the land. All the boys get shares, too. What’s everyone say?

  For a moment, the only sound is the wind whistling through the cracks in the boards.

  And then Wilbert’s voice rings loud and clear.

  I’m In!

  I smile at my Best Brother.

  Me, too, Kaarlo says. Not as stinky as a cannery.

  Uncle Niihlo shrugs and says, I’d rather break my back for my own family than someone else’s.

  He looks at Jaakko. What do you say, son?

  Sure, my cousin says. Long as May Amelia promises to make socks.

  I’ll even make you a hat, I assure him.

  Ivan declares, I’m in, too!

  Alvin looks at his twin in disbelief.

  What? Ivan rolls his eyes. I still got one hand! I’m not totally useless.

  Alvin grins and says, You can count on me.

  What is everybody in on? Wendell demands in frustration. You’re all talking too fast. I can’t understand you!

  We’re Starting Our Own Logging Company! Kaarlo says loudly, and then he looks at Mamma and Pappa, and some of the excitement drains out of his voice. Right?

  My mother takes a deep breath and says, I won’t lie. I don’t like the danger. But it sounds as if it could be a financial success. And besides, I miss my family.

  She turns to my father who has gone still, like an animal being hunted.

  Jalmer? Mamma asks hesitantly.

  Pappa looks at me across the table. Then his eyes crinkle and he says softly, I’m with My Daughter.

  The room erupts into whoops of laughter, and joy rushes through me, like logs flying out of a splash dam. Everyone’s talking at once, and for the first time in forever there is hope
in the air, and that’s more precious than stock or fortune.

  What are we gonna call it? Wilbert asks.

  How about Jackson Brothers Logging? Ivan suggests.

  Uncle Niihlo makes a face. I’m not a Jackson.

  And I ain’t a brother! I add.

  Kaarlo ruffles my hair. You may not be a boy, but you got more sisu than all of us put together.

  Then Isaiah says, Do you think we can hire Birgit away from Armstong’s?

  Sisu Logging hires its first man the day after Christmas—Mr. Holumbo, Berle’s daddy. And he gets a free pair of socks as part of his wages.

  On New Year’s Eve, we melt lead. Isaiah’s lead looks like a heart, and Wilbert’s like a tree, and mine looks like a round ball. No one can predict if the logging venture will be successful. The future is as gray and cloudy as the sky above us. But we Jacksons have sisu.

  Wilbert and I go sit on the porch on the first day of the new year. It’s raining, but what else can you expect when you live in the soggiest place in the world?

  I hold out my lump of lead.

  What do you think it means? I ask my Best Brother.

  It means you’re finally a pearl, May, Wilbert says.

  But I don’t want to be a pearl.

  Why?

  A pearl will just get smashed to dust out here. I’d rather be a Grain Of Sand.

  Well, you are Irritating, he says.

  And maybe I am.

  Author’s Note

  My great-grandfather, Charles Holm, settled a piece of land on the Nasel River in 1871. In 1890, he was approached by a group of men with a proposal for the creation of a town called Stanley. It was a period of boomtowns. My great-grandfather invested in the venture, but it all came to nothing, as it was a scheme. The company had never been incorporated. My great-grandfather lost his land and years of hard work. Others fared far worse. One neighbor went insane. My great-grandfather appealed to everyone he could think of for help, including President Grover Cleveland, but to no avail. In a letter to the Secretary of the Interior, he wrote:

  I believed these men to be honest at the time and went into the company, but soon after I found that they were a gang of robbers.

  It is said that my great-grandfather never recovered from this experience and that he haunted his land years after he lost it.

  Uncle Aarno’s head injury was based on an injury that happened to my grandfather, Wendell Holm. He was struck by the boom when he was in a boat and fractured his skull so badly that the doctor could move it.