Katerina's Wish

by Jeannie Mobley

  Chapter 15

  SOON MARK was up, doing his own chores and walking to help rebuild his strength. He went striding by our house, up and down the road, farther and farther each day. Though his strength was coming back, his gait was still awkward. He could not seem to flex his foot upward properly, causing it to drag when he walked, and it did not improve with practice.

  Old Jan wanted to consult the doctor about it, but Mark refused. They were out of money and a month behind on their rent as it was. The mine had extended them credit; however, rumors were spreading of another round of layoffs. Karel was one of the few bachelors left at the mine, and the family feared he would lose his job as well, and Mark would have no job to go to even when he recovered. Everyone in town was struggling and praying their jobs would last. Martina, who could not bear to return to her parents’ home, had resolved to sell Charlie’s clothing and whatever of her own possessions she could spare. She hoped to pay off her debts to the mining company and have enough left over for train fare to Denver, or perhaps Kansas City. There she hoped to find a factory job. I did not dare ask what she might do if there were no jobs to be had. The thought of being alone in a big city was too terrible for me to imagine.

  When Karel and Mark heard of Martina’s plan, they went to her house, though they themselves were in debt. Mark came back up the road a short time later with Charlie’s old boots. They were worn, but he needed something to replace the boot that had been ruined in the accident, he said. He could not go back into the mine without boots.

  “Where is Karel?” I asked.

  Mark sat down on the porch step. “It’s Saturday, his night off, so he’s taking his time coming home. He stayed to visit with Martina.”

  I thought nothing more of Karel’s absence that evening, or the next day when Old Jan and Mark came to our house to share our Sunday dinner. We were just about to sit down to eat when Karel and Martina came walking up the road toward us. They stopped and stood before the porch, Karel looking up uncertainly at his father while Martina’s eyes stayed shyly on the dirt before her.

  Karel took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “We’ve gotten married, Papa.”

  We all stared, our mouths hanging open stupidly. When there was no response, Karel continued.

  “The priest was here, and he won’t be back for two weeks. This is best for everyone. I’m not a bachelor now, so the mine will keep me on. And Charlie would have wanted Martina taken care of. I’ll do that.”

  Momma was the first to recover her composure. She stood and beckoned to them. “Come in, come in. You are family here now.”

  Karel took Martina’s hand and led her up onto the porch. Momma clasped her and gave her a kiss on either cheek in congratulations. Old Jan leaped up to do the same, and the rest of us followed. I did not know what to think as I kissed her blushing cheek. It had been barely two weeks since she had wailed at Charlie’s funeral. Perhaps it should have been shocking, but all I felt was relief that she would not be alone and penniless in a distant town.

  “Dinner is almost ready,” Momma said. “It will serve for a wedding feast, I think.”

  We all went into a flurry of activity at that. Papa and Karel carried the table and chairs out into the yard. I spread Momma’s fine linen tablecloth on the table. In the kitchen Momma mixed up batter and used the last can of plums to make dumplings. She had been saving it for a special occasion, she said, and this was it.

  We did not have time for many wedding traditions, since the marriage had already occurred, but Mark did tie two spoons together with a ribbon. As we sat down to eat, Mark brought a bowl of potato soup out for the newlyweds to share. We all watched as they struggled to eat it with their joined spoons. It was supposed to bring good luck, but mostly it was good fun. We laughed as they spilled, and yet I thought they did very well for two people joined on a moment’s notice as a practical necessity. There was a careful, tender courtesy between them that seemed very comforting. It occurred to me as I watched them that there was a certain wisdom to my mother’s views—that accepting what life gave you and being grateful for it could bring a comfortable life.

  Mark was seated across the table from me, and I couldn’t resist a glance at him. He was looking at me, too, and when our eyes met he smiled. I smiled back.

  After dinner was complete, Momma and Aneshka took the broom and mop and marched off to Martina’s house to prepare it for the new couple. Holena and I stayed behind to wash the dishes and though it was her wedding feast, Martina insisted on helping.

  “I’ll not have Karel thinking I’m a lazy wife,” she said.

  We began working in silence, but soon she spoke. “Do you think poorly of me for marrying now, with Charlie barely in the grave?” She kept her eyes on her work, but I could see tears welling in her eyes. “I loved Charlie, and I wouldn’t do anything to dishonor his memory. But I was afraid, Trina. And Karel is a good man. He was Charlie’s friend.”

  I stopped her flow of words with a hand on her arm. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I reassured her. “Charlie would not have wanted you alone in the city. And Karel is a good man; he’ll be good to you.”

  “He was Charlie’s friend,” she said again. “He was afraid of being laid off. With his father and brother unable to work, he had to keep his job somehow. And I had nowhere to go. Maybe that’s not a good reason to marry, but I swear I’ll take good care of him, Trina.”

  I nodded. “We are glad to have you in the family,” I said. Not that Karel and Mark were my family yet, but we spent so much time together it felt like it.

  I heard a noise from the doorway and turned to see Mark.

  “Your groom awaits you, Mrs. Kocekova.” He gave a stiff little bow and swept his arm toward the porch.

  Martina startled a little at the sound of her new title, but then she smiled and went outside. Everyone was gathered there and applauded her. Aneshka gave her a little bouquet of flowers, mostly dandelions and grass, and the family paraded the couple to Martina’s house. Karel swept Martina up and carried her through the doorway, and the rest of us returned home. We all settled comfortably into the shade on the porch.

  “Do you think they will be happy?” Mark asked, to no one in particular.

  Aneshka gave a little snort. “How can they be when they are so poor? Martina shouldn’t have sold her things.” “Aneshka,” Momma said sharply.

  “They will have a hard time of it in that respect, I’m afraid,” Old Jan said. “They are at her house for now, but she can only keep it through the end of the month. I’m afraid until Marek is back to work, they will have to crowd in with us, and that is not pleasant for newlyweds.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Momma said. “Some things in life we simply must accept, and the sooner we do that, the better off we are.”

  I had worked hard to believe that view of things in recent weeks. Still, it didn’t seem the same as being happy.

  “What do you think, Trina?” Mark asked. “Do you think they will be happy together?”

  I thought again about the gentle courtesy I had seen that day between Martina and Karel. I sighed. I wasn’t sure I knew what happiness was anymore.

  “I think they are kind to each other, and that is a good start,” I said.

  “A very good start, indeed,” Old Jan said. “Kindness and respect are more important than all the riches in the world.”

  Aneshka, sensing that Old Jan had a story to prove his point, scooted closer to him. Holena watched him eagerly as well. He smiled at them obligingly.

  “Let’s see. There once was a shepherd who was cheated by his rich neighbor. For his work, the shepherd was to receive a fine heifer, but when the work was done, the neighbor refused. So the shepherd and the neighbor went before the burgomaster, a young man, new to his position. The burgomaster did not know who was in the right, so he decided the case by saying, ‘Each of you go home. Return tomorrow with the answer to this riddle: Of all things in the world, tell me, what is the swiftest? What is t
he sweetest? And what is the richest? Whichever of you answers best shall have the heifer.’

  “So the two men went home with their questions. The rich neighbor consulted his wife, who was as greedy as he was. The poor shepherd had only his clever, gentle daughter at home, but he told her the riddle too.

  “In the morning, the two men returned to the burgomaster, who put his question to them again. ‘What is the swiftest thing in the world? What is the sweetest? And what is the richest?’

  “The rich neighbor gave his wife’s answer. ‘It is simple, sir. The swiftest thing is my fine gray mare, for no one passes me on the road. The sweetest is the honey from my hives, for they are the best in the world. The richest is my sack of gold ducats, for I have been saving them away for years.’

  “‘Hmm,’ said the burgomaster. Then he turned to the humble shepherd and asked him. And thanks to his clever daughter, the shepherd answered, ‘I believe the swiftest thing in the world is a kind thought, for a kind thought comforts a loved one in no time at all. The sweetest thing is another’s love, for it can soothe any suffering. The richest thing is the earth itself, from which honest labor brings forth all other riches.’

  “At once the burgomaster saw the shepherd had answered most wisely, and so he gave the man the heifer and sent the rich neighbor home to quarrel with his wife. But to the shepherd he said, ‘I must know who gave you this answer.’

  “‘My clever daughter, Manka, told me these things,’ the shepherd replied.

  “Now, the burgomaster had been thinking of taking a wife for some time, and at once he was intrigued by such a clever girl. So he gave the shepherd six eggs to take to Manka and said, ‘Tell your clever daughter that if she will hatch these eggs into chicks and bring them to me tomorrow, I will marry her.’”

  “That’s not fair,” Aneshka interrupted. “You can’t hatch eggs overnight.”

  “They would need their momma to hatch,” Holena said. I knew she was thinking of my chicks, dead in their nest. I wished Old Jan had picked a different story.

  Old Jan smiled at my sisters and nodded. “The shepherd thought the same thing, and he was sorry, for he thought the burgomaster would make a fine son-in-law. But he took the eggs to his daughter and told her of the man’s request.

  “Manka only laughed. The next morning she gave her father a handful of grain and said, ‘Take this to the burgomaster and tell him that if he will grow a field of wheat for me and bring it to me tomorrow, I will know he is my equal and I will consent to be his wife.’

  “When the burgomaster received this reply, he mounted his horse at once and rode to the shepherd’s home, where on one knee, he asked the clever girl to marry him. She consented and they were wed. That night, after the wedding feast, he said to her, ‘You have proved to me that you will be a kind and honest wife, and so we will be happy. But you must never use your cleverness against me or I will turn you out of my home.’

  “They lived together for some time in happiness, for they lived by the principles of kindness and fairness that Manka had shown in her answers. But as the burgomaster grew older he grew lazy and eager for gain in his duties. One day, a dispute was brought to him from the marketplace. A farmer’s mare had given birth to a foal, but a loud noise had scared the foal under a merchant’s wagon, so the merchant claimed the foal was his. Now, the burgomaster knew the farmer was a poor man, while the merchant was wealthy and powerful, capable of giving many gifts and favors. So without much thought, the burgomaster gave the foal to the merchant, and the poor farmer went home with nothing for his trouble. When Manka saw the sad farmer leaving, she asked what was wrong and he told her. Manka at once told the farmer what to do.

  “The next morning, the burgomaster stepped out his front door to see a fishnet strung across the road. The farmer was sitting nearby, watching it eagerly.

  “‘What are you doing?’ the burgomaster asked.

  “‘Why, I am fishing,’ replied the farmer.”

  “Fishing in the road?” Aneshka said with a shriek of laughter.

  “That is exactly what the burgomaster said. And the farmer replied, ‘Why, yes, for if a wagon can foal in this town, I would suppose that fish could be caught in its streets.’

  “At once the burgomaster saw the wrong judgment he had made. But he also saw Manka’s hand in the farmer’s clever act, and so he went back inside and said to her, ‘I warned you never to use your cleverness against me. Now you must leave my house, as I said. But I am not hard-hearted. Take with you whatever you like best from our home, and return to your father.’

  “‘Very well,’ Manka said. ‘But please, husband, let us sup together one last time before I go.’

  “The burgomaster agreed to this, so that evening Manka served him a fine, heavy supper and many tankards of good, strong beer, and before long, the burgomaster was snoring in his chair at the table. When he was asleep, Manka did as she had been told. She took her favorite thing and returned to her father’s house.

  “The next morning the burgomaster woke, confused, for he was in a shepherd’s hut on the edge of the forest. He looked around, and there was Manka, preparing breakfast at the humble hearth.

  “‘Where am I?’ the burgomaster asked. ‘And how did I get here?’

  “‘You are in my father’s house,’ Manka said, ‘for you said I could take with me my favorite thing in the house, and that, dear husband, is you.’

  “When the burgomaster saw that she had once again outwitted him, he might have been angry, but he was not. For he saw what she said was true—she was his favorite thing too. He had married her for her cleverness, but he found that as they had given each other the kind thoughts, sweet love, and honest labor over the years, she had become his greatest treasure. And so he returned the foal to its rightful owner, apologized to his wife, and took her home, promising to never behave so badly again. And from that day on, when a particularly difficult case came before him, he always consulted his clever wife before he made his judgment. And with kindness and respect, they lived out their days in happiness.”

  Aneshka clapped her hands in delight at the end of the story. I think she liked best that Manka had outsmarted her husband. But Holena seemed to better understand Old Jan’s meaning.

  “I think Karel and Martina will be kind to each other too. I think they will be happy, even if they don’t have much,” she said.

  “I do too,” Mark said. “I think if you care about someone, you don’t need much else to make you happy. What do you think, Trina?”

  I had a hard time answering. As Old Jan had told the story, Mark’s hand had found mine and closed around it. Now all I could think about was the feel of that hand and the happiness that eased the ache in my heart at its touch.

  “It’s the last Saturday of July this week. That means the community dance,” Mark said. “I think dancing with you is the last thing I need to completely heal me, Trina.”

  I looked up to see Momma smiling and Aneshka glaring at me. I ignored them both and turned to Mark with a smile of my own. “I’ll be ready at six,” I said.

  Chapter 16

  MARK’S UNEVEN gait did not improve much over the coming week, but he was determined to keep walking and gaining his strength. The day of the dance he stopped by our house in the morning and danced me around our porch in front of Momma and my sisters, just to prove he was well enough to go.

  That afternoon, Momma helped me prepare. I bathed, and she brushed out my hair. I would wear it in a bun rather than my usual girlish braids. From her own trunk, she found her best dress, the one she had married in. She had not worn it since we left the Old Country. Now she offered it to me.

  It felt good to put on a dress that reached to the floor, like an elegant lady. I was not yet a lady, though, as the loose bodice proved. My mother only smiled at the way the shapely dress fit my mostly shapeless frame.

  “Soon, Trina. Don’t worry,” she said, and she pinned the bodice under the arms where a few tucks would create a serviceable f
it. She made the alterations without cutting the fabric. There was no point in making the dress fit a girl’s body now, when mine was on the verge of becoming a woman, she said.

  My mother hummed happily as she worked, and it made me happy to see her so cheerful. It didn’t even bother me when Aneshka came into the kitchen, scowled at us, and then stomped off to the backyard with an angry snort. She stayed in the back all afternoon, though I couldn’t imagine why. The ruined chicken yard and garden had been such painful reminders of our failed dreams that I spent as little time as possible behind the house. How Aneshka could spend hours at a time with those reminders was beyond me.

  By suppertime, I was ready for the dance, wearing my mother’s fine dress and with my hair pinned neatly at the nape of my neck. My father smiled with pride when he saw me.

  “My little Trina is becoming a woman,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. “And a beautiful woman, at that. Marek is a lucky fellow.”

  My family sat down to supper, but I hardly ate a bite. I was afraid of spoiling my dress and I was feeling nervous. Even though I’d seen Mark every day since the accident, going to a dance with him was different.

  Mark was in high spirits when he arrived to escort me to the dance. He, too, was clean and polished, in a suit that probably belonged to his father. His hair was trimmed and slicked down smoothly. He smiled hugely when he saw me, which made me blush. He complimented me politely and greeted my parents even more politely.

  “You are looking well, Marek,” Papa said. “Why, to look at you now, no one would know you’ve been sick.”

  “I am much better, thanks to your daughter. I am going back to work on Monday!” he announced.

  He had meant this as good news, but the knot of fear I’d carried since the accident twisted tighter inside me. He wasn’t yet well enough for the long hours of hard labor. He showed no sign of pain that evening as we danced or visited with the other young couples, though. In fact, he was so merry that I buried my misgivings. By the end of the evening I, too, was merry, and I was sorry when the fiddlers announced the last song.