by Sally Laity
After a brief blessing, everyone filled plates and dove in.
“How did you make out today, Hannah?” Ken asked. “The rich matrons work your fingers to the bone polishing silver again?”
“No, beating rugs. I never saw so much dust.”
“Ha. You should come to the breaker,” Tim challenged. “That’s nothin’ compared to what I see every day.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. I did have a little help, though. Mrs. MacNamara’s son took pity on me and came to help. He’s. . .um. . .well, nice.”
Noting the faint tinge of pink creeping over his sister’s face, Ken watched her toy with her food while he took a second helping. “A kid, like Timmy?” he finally asked.
Hannah didn’t quite meet his eyes as she darted a glance at him. “No. Actually he’s—” Reaching for her lemonade, she inadvertently bumped the glass, spilling the contents. “Oh, how clumsy of me!” She sprang to her feet and dashed to the kitchen for a towel.
It had been some time since Ken had seen his normally poised sister so flighty and nervous. He’d let it pass for now, but next time he was over in Wilkes-Barre, he’d go by the MacNamara mansion, see if he could spot that only son whom Hannah mentioned now and again.
Oblivious to the undercurrent in the room, Tim helped himself to another plateful of food.
“Say, Ma,” Ken said, breaking into the silence, “know anything about the folks who live in the camp on Larksville Mountain?”
“Why?”
“Just wondered.”
She blotted her lips on her napkin and replaced it on her lap. “I don’t think anybody knows much about those people.”
“The gypsies, you mean?” Timmy’s eyes grew round. “They give me the creeps. Jimmy told me they almost stole Pete’s little sister right outta her own yard. All they have to do is look at you with their ‘evil eye’ and you go all funny.”
“That’s nonsense,” Ma said, shaking her head.
He made a face, then resumed eating.
“Ever meet any of them personally?” Ken probed. He took a sip of his drink.
“Not me. But some ladies at church have had dealings with them. The Ladies Aid took some canned food to the settlement once, but they refused it.”
“How odd,” he said thoughtfully.
“Mrs. Wright’s sister out in Huntsville buys things pretty regularly from an old peddler who comes around,” his mother continued. “She says he seems fair and carries good quality wares. He usually has a young woman with him in the wagon. A granddaughter, I believe the lady says. Kind of pretty, in her own dark way. But nobody really trusts them as a whole. I don’t know if I would myself.”
Ken maintained a casual expression.
“Quite a few of those people run small shops downtown,” Hannah offered, referring to the city. “They’re all over Wilkes-Barre. And there’s a couple of young girls from the camp working at the silk mill, too. They stay mostly to themselves. Of course, most everybody sort of gives them a wide berth. They’re just so different, or something, all those bright clothes and dark eyes that always look like they’re holding secrets from us.”
“Why do you ask?” Ma repeated.
“No reason. I just happened to meet a young woman from the camp one day. She was pretty timid but didn’t come across as strange, as Hannah put it. I wondered if anyone you knew had any information about them.”
“I’m afraid not, other than what I already told you. Maybe they’re fine enough at a distance, but I don’t think I’d want one living next door.”
“You might change your mind if you met the young woman I did. You’d see that she’s sensitive and thoughtful, a lot like Hannah, and not in the least scary.” He directed the last part of the statement to Tim.
“I doubt it,” she countered. “And I’d still rather keep my distance, thank you just the same.”
Hiding his disappointment, he gave a nod, then turned his attention to his sister. “Well, did I hear somebody mention baked apples?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Coming right up.” And with that, she stood and began gathering plates.
“Oh, Son,” Ma cut in, “one of the Jessup kids brought over some books Mike said he wanted you to have. They’re on the buffet.”
“Thanks. I’ll take them upstairs when I go.”
Absolutely stuffed by the time he finished feasting on supper and dessert, Ken retired to his room early, study books in hand. He’d only worked summers, as a breaker boy, and later, a nipper. But having quit school in ninth grade to help add to the family’s income, he would forever be glad his parents insisted he attend continuation school one night a week until he’d completed high school studies. Likely most of the algebra formulas and equations would come back to him, and he foresaw no problem understanding the engineering and surveying books. No doubt some night classes at the high school would help, too. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to take the state test for his foreman’s papers.
But after such a pleasant day, the last thing he wanted to do was bury his nose in some dry textbook. He kicked off his shoes and lay on his back atop the chenille bedspread, hands laced together beneath his head.
Hannah had seemed in a strange mood at supper—distracted, barely picking at her food, knocking over her lemonade, getting flustered over nothing. Ken hoped his sister wasn’t dumb enough to form a crush on some rich guy. She’d be sure to end up with her heart broken. No young man of means would deign to court a girl whose family made their living cracking coal. They moved in entirely different circles.
Two worlds, as Rosalind would say.
Like the moon rising over the treetops, thoughts of Rosa drifted to the surface of Ken’s mind, crowding out sisters and coal mines and study books. He wondered if she had gone to her room to read, just as he had.
He tried to imagine what her life must be like, wondering if she lived in a shack or a house wagon, a tent or something more permanent. Did she even have a room of her own? She hadn’t revealed much about herself, except that her parents were deceased and she lived with her grandparents, one of whom was a healer, the other a peddler. The vivid clothing she wore seemed of good quality, not threadbare, and the earrings and bangle bracelets that gleamed enchantingly against the rich hue of her skin appeared to be pure gold.
It struck Ken as ironic that Mrs. Wright, from church, had a sister who probably dealt with Rosa’s grandfather and might have even spoken to Rosa herself. The lady at least appreciated Rosalind’s exotic beauty. But then, no one could deny something so obvious.
Ma hadn’t been quite as broad-minded as he’d hoped concerning Rosalind’s people. Most likely her proper upbringing would ensure her politeness if they came around, but she was leery about having one living in close proximity. The fact that she didn’t trust them could have more to do with rumors and never having dealt with any personally than anything else.
He’d just have to ease her into a different frame of mind, that’s all. If he went slowly enough, she probably wouldn’t even catch on. After all, there was nothing between him and Rosa except a sweet friendship—and unless the two of them shared a spiritual fellowship as well, there could never be anything more to it. One thing his pa had drilled into all of them was the warning in 2 Corinthians chapter 6, about unequal yokes. Not that he’d begun considering any sort of a permanent commitment. The extra money Tim earned was helping to bring down the level of debt hanging over their heads, but it would still be awhile before he was in a position to think about starting a home and family of his own.
Reaching over to the bedside table, he switched the radio on, then turned the dial in search of something to occupy his wandering thoughts.
Tim happened into the room just then. “Any games on? The Giants or the Yanks?” He flopped onto his bed, one arm dangling over the side, feeling around on the floor for some comic books one of his pals had loaned him. He found three on the first try.
“I think this one’s from Yankee Stadium, b
ut I don’t know what other team is playing.”
“Who cares?” his brother asked. “A game’s a game, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.” With a wry grin, Ken lay back down, wondering if Rosalind had a radio to listen to. And if the encampment even had electricity at all.
How precious little he really knew about her.
Seven
“You should try this,” Rosalind said, hiking the hem of her skirt a bit higher as she stepped from one smooth stone to the next in a gurgling mountain stream not far above the camp. “The water is wonderful.” She traced small arcs in the ripples with the toe of one foot, enjoying the cool rush of the current against her skin.
Sitting with his back against a tree and one arm propped on his bent knee, Philip nodded patiently. “The daylight will not last much longer, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
On the climb up the hill in the balmy evening, they had chatted lightly about his job and some current happenings at the settlement, but now that those safe topics had been covered, Rosa knew she had to get to the one he was waiting for. Sobering, she glanced homeward to make sure no one would overhear their conversation. Then she waded out of the brook to join her cousin, dropping down to sit beside him, her feet stretched out in front of her to dry.
“What I have to say you must promise not to repeat,” she said earnestly.
Not even looking at her, he tossed a flat pebble into the stream. It landed with a soft plop. “I have kept a lot of secrets for you, Cousin, as you have done for me. I would never betray you.”
Rosa felt encouraged by his statement, but a long moment passed before she could bring herself to speak. “I think I am. . . in love,” she finally murmured.
“Oh?” Philip’s dark brows rose higher, and he smiled. “You mean, with someone besides me? Who is the lucky man who has won your heart?”
Rosalind slowly wagged her head. “He is. . .not of our people.”
Her cousin’s smile vanished. “What?”
She met his gaze and held it. “It is someone I met in the forest some weeks ago. A man from the mines.”
Philip’s jaw dropped, but Rosa gave him no chance to say anything.
“We met by accident. Once. Then again. And then we began to meet on purpose, eat together, talk. . . . Now I have come to have feelings for him. Feelings I have never felt before.”
“Rosa, Rosa,” Philip moaned, “this is not good. Do you have any idea how much trouble it will cause if you continue this relationship with an outsider?”
She nodded miserably. “But I cannot help it. I did not plan it. I was seeking only a friend. You are always busy, Sultana has a new life with her husband, and Julianna moved away more than a year ago.”
Emitting a whoosh of breath, Philip ran his fingers through his curly hair. “You must end it, Cousin. That is all I can say.”
“No. Do not tell me that. I cannot. I will not. He so nice, so kind. He treats me with the utmost honor.”
“But he is an outsider, not one of us. What will you tell your grandparents?”
Rosalind could not answer.
“And what about his people? How do they feel about their son being with you, a gypsy, one who possesses the evil eye? That’s what those coal diggers think of us, you know, they and everybody else around here.”
She shrugged. “We do not talk about those things.”
“Well, you should. As the old saying goes, ‘A bird and a fish may fall in love, but where would they live?’ ”
Rosalind had never seen her cousin’s features so hardened, his jaw so rigid that a tiny muscle twitched. She found it difficult to look away. “But this is America. Times are changing.”
“Not for us, Rosa. We will face scorn and prejudice for who knows how many generations before our people earn the respect given so freely to others.”
“But it has to start somewhere, with two people. Him and me, perhaps.”
Philip’s ebony eyes flashed with anger, and he got to his feet. “I doubt that. This can only bring trouble to you and to our people. You are foolish if you think otherwise.” Without even waiting for her, he stalked away.
“Wait, Philip,” Rosa cried. She grabbed her shoes in one hand and hurried to catch up. Reaching him, she latched onto his sleeve. “You will not tell, will you?”
“I told you I would not,” he replied between gritted teeth.
“So then, will you, too, hate me? Shun me?”
Exhaling in a rush, he stopped walking and turned to face her. His demeanor softened, and he reached out and drew her into a hug. “I do not hate you. If we were not cousins, I would offer for you myself—even though you are older,” he added teasingly. Then he grew serious again. “But some things we cannot change, Rosa. I fear for you, that you are going to be hurt. Bad. And there is nothing I can do to help.”
“Yes, there is,” she assured him, easing out of his embrace. “You can believe in me. Still be my best friend. I will need someone to side with me.”
He smiled thinly. “Then, for all the good it will do, I will side with you, Cousin.”
“Thank you. That is all I ask.” Forcing a smile of her own, Rosa slipped her feet into her shoes, then put an arm about his waist, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
❧
Ken finished the last of a dozen complicated equations on the page and added an exuberant period with his pencil point before turning to a clean sheet in the tablet. He’d always enjoyed math problems, and the more intricate the problem, the more determined he was to figure out the correct answer.
“Whoopee!” Tim yelled from the parlor, where he had the radio console tuned to a ball game. “The Babe just hit a grand slam! The Yanks are ahead of the Athletics four to one.”
“Great,” Ken hollered back, smiling as he went on to the next algebra problem.
“I thought you might be thirsty,” Hannah said, coming into the dining room with two glasses of lemonade. She placed one in front of Ken, then took a chair opposite him.
“Thanks, Sis.” After taking several swallows, he grinned at her. “Hits the spot, as always.”
“That looks hard,” she commented, eyeing his work. “I never did care for math. Even when I could figure the problems out, it took me forever.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Seems once a person gets a handle on all the rules, it gets easier. Myself, I love the challenge.”
She nodded. “Would it bother you if I work at this end of the table?”
“Doing what?”
“Sewing. I was going to make some pillowcases.”
“Running short of them, are we?” Ken chided.
Pinkening delicately, she pursed her lips, then gave into a smile. “Actually, they’re for me. For my hope chest.”
“Ah. When did all this start?”
“The day I turned sixteen and Ma gave me the china tea set she had when she was a bride,” she replied evenly. “The two of us have been adding to it ever since. Doilies, tea towels, pillowcases. . .you know. Girl things. Pretty stuff.”
He gave a thoughtful nod.
“Of course, since Pa and Matt were killed, there hasn’t been much money for such luxuries. I just thought it was time to get busy again.”
“Well, hey,” he said, gathering his books and notes into a neat stack. “Use as much of the table as you like. I’m almost finished with algebra anyway. The rest only need to be read and studied.”
Hannah smiled and got up to take her empty glass to the kitchen. She returned with some yard goods and scissors and began laying out the material. “When do you think you’ll be ready to take the state test?”
“Couple of weeks, maybe. I figure the extra money I’ll earn as a foreman will help a lot.”
“I hope so.”
Watching his sister as she worked, measuring out the amount of material needed, then cutting carefully along the pins she’d used to mark the size, Ken couldn’t help but notice how capable she was. As far back as he could remember, she
’d done things just so. Though it was hard to imagine life without her smiling presence around, he knew that one of these days some young man would be captivated by her winsome beauty and ability to keep a nice house. After all, at nineteen, going on twenty, she was only two years younger than he, and that day could come sooner than he imagined.
“Hannah?”
“Hmm?” She met his gaze.
“Is there someone special you’ve got in mind?”
She merely shrugged a shoulder, but a playful spark twinkled in her blue eyes. “A girl has to have some secrets, doesn’t she?”
“I guess. It’s just. . .well, hard to think of you ever getting married, moving off somewhere.”
“Relax. I’m in no hurry. But don’t you plan to find a wife yourself someday?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been so busy trying to get us out of debt, I haven’t had time to think about it.” Until recently, he nearly added. “I guess I thought life would keep on the way it is, indefinitely.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels as if we should still be kids, out playing ball and jumping rope. Time goes so quickly.” Coming to the end of the first pillow slip, she made a last cut, then folded it and put it aside. Adjusting the material, she started cutting the second. “Other times I feel like I’m thirty already. Like when I look around and see the kids I used to watch as babies already going to school, growing up.”
The back door opened, and their mother returned home from next door. She carried a bag in each arm as she came through to the dining room.
“What’s all that?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, Aggie insisted I take some of her preserves and things. She doesn’t want to cart them to New York. I just feel so bad about their leaving.”
“Me, too,” Ken piped in. “But they’ll make out fine, living out on a farm. I kind of wish it was us.”
“You would,” she returned good-naturedly. “But since it isn’t, how about taking these down to the cellar for me and putting them on the shelves with the other canned things.”
“Gotcha,” he said, and went to do her bidding. He really did hate to part with such good neighbors as the Jessups, and something told him Hannah wouldn’t be far behind. But for him there was Ma and Tim to look after. And the debt. He wondered if he would ever get far enough ahead of his responsibilities to ever be able to consider a family of his own. And Rosa.
