My Heart Belongs in Castle Gate, Utah

by Dicken, Angie;

  One bite, then two, and that was enough. Eating alone was more dreadful than she could imagine. Even ill-mannered Jack offered some sort of company.

  “This is a good meal, Leanna.” Jack would say, his lips smeared with coal slime. He’d then thud his fist on the plain wooden table as he coughed on his stew. Once his fit subsided, he’d continue to shovel in his supper.

  When he was done, he would toss his spoon beside his bowl, evoking a cringe from Leanna, and then sit back in his chair with a smack of his lips.

  “Thank you, lass.” His pale blue eyes would shine through the layer of filth. “How was your day?”

  She’d complain about the filthy Greek boys, and the tricky language they’d speak, talking about her without her understanding, she suspected.

  “Aye, but their fathers and uncles are hard workers,” he’d say, splaying his hands across his taut shirt, rubbing his belly. Leanna had doubted he was full, but he always seemed satisfied. “They are good men, those Greeks.”

  What did they think of Jack, she wondered? The ugly labor agent, trying to collect money from her came to mind. He probably thought Jack a fool, losing a bet on miner’s wages.

  But then there was Alex. He was Jack’s friend. She saw him at his funeral—on the other side of the fence, but he had been there, nonetheless. Alex Pappas seemed to be a good man.

  Jack was a good man, too, when she’d first met him.

  A question nagged her heart with a searing burn like the fiery coals. If she had known the end was near, would she have made Jack’s last days so miserable? If he had known, would he have tried harder to get them out of here?

  Leanna grimaced, her throat so tight that she couldn’t manage one more spoonful. Frustration crept into every bone of her frame. She needed to leave this room where so many fights and disappointments clung to the walls. She burst through the door onto the porch, her lungs parched for a fresh breath of God’s creation. Leanna longed for lush lawns and planted flower beds. Her view of a stark mountain range was less satisfying. There was no lawn for her simple house, only a rudimentary dirt path leading to scrubby trees lining the bald, rocky slope at her property’s edge.

  The sun had tucked itself behind the range, and dusk promised that nightfall was fast approaching. Her shawl did nothing to ward off the cooling temperature. As she turned to warm herself by her stove again, a nearing figure caught her eye.

  Alex Pappas approached from the path to town. He jaunted toward her with an eager wave then turned up her path. “Good evening, Mrs. McKee.” His dark eyes slid toward Coffey’s unlit windows.

  “Good evening,” she said. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Pappas?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing at all.” He gave a reassuring smile, warming her from the inside out. She was content enough to stay outside a moment longer. “Momma insisted I bring you some chicken and potatoes. A recipe from our village in Greece.” He handed her a warm pot. She lifted the lid and inhaled the same savory smell that met her each time she’d passed their restaurant. Butter and oregano and comfort.

  “This is kind of your mother.” A low growl erupted in her torso and her mouth watered. It smelled better than her unfinished stew.

  “Think of it as a thank-you for your kindness to the children.” He pulled his hat off and held it at his chest. “They told us about the teasing today.”

  So Maria did understand that Billy was mocking them.

  “It was the civilized thing to do.” She cleared her throat. “This is a miserable place to find civility, though.” In her opinion, this canyon bred nothing of the sort. “When do they return to Greece?”

  “Greece?” He pressed his shoulders back with confidence. “We are Americans now, Mrs. McKee.”

  “I just assumed.” She furrowed her brow and cradled the warm pot against her waist. “Many of the children leave once their uncles have filled pockets.” Is it possible I’m envious of those lice-infested boys? That bitter weed began to reach upward and wrap around her throat. “How often I’d wished Jack’s pockets didn’t have so many holes so we could do the same,” she muttered.

  “Those Greek men who leave have sisters with dowries, or families who need them. They shouldn’t take advantage like that, but they are desperate for work. Unfortunately, the same man who entices them here is the man who stole from Jack.”

  “Stole?” Her voice heightened.

  “Yes, the labor agent took Jack’s money, I am afraid. Not a good example of my people.”

  She’d avoided that man. He was persistent and obnoxious. But Jack had left her here linked to that rotten man, hadn’t he? Leanna pursed her lips. “Mr. Pappas, Jack gave our money away. He gambled every last penny in Boston, and every earned one here.” She bristled at this conversation.

  “I understand your frustration. But Jack was a good man,” Alex said in a hushed voice.

  She gaped at him. The old anger was fresher than the air she breathed, and she could not talk herself out of it. Alex Pappas had overstayed his welcome.

  “I must go inside now. Thank your mother, please.” She turned a shoulder to leave.

  Alex’s lips parted as if to speak, but then he pressed them together in a consolatory smile. “I will tell her. Thank you again, Mrs. McKee.”

  Alex stepped into the shadow of the restaurant’s back porch as Coffey and his friends turned up the path to their houses—the same path Alex had just taken from Mrs. McKee’s. A close call. Thankfully, Alex had refrained from offering to dine with her. What assumptions would Coffey have made then? But Alex knew the loneliness of her circumstance and how a friend could soothe such pain. Where would he be now if Will Jacob hadn’t been his friend those first weeks of his loss? His foreman taught him English and kept him sane when silence promised to strangle him.

  Now he stood against the wall. The jagged brick snagged at his coat, but not nearly as gripping as the shame that ground against his conscience like sandpaper. This was a ridiculous posture for a man like Alex. To hide from those weasels? Eight years of working in the mines of Carbon County and those fools treated him as if he’d only just arrived off the boat. He was giving into their ignorance by hiding like a child.

  It was better than confrontation, though. That would only break his vow to remain indifferent to any jesting that would come his way.

  After they were out of sight, he ran along the side of the restaurant, releasing his held breath. It formed a misty cloud in the cool night as he made his way to the coffeehouse.

  He entered a room filled with his countrymen. Their chatter clashed with a wild pluck of a guitar and boisterous singing. Tonight was the first wrestling match against the boastful Japanese wrestler. The miners from the Far East talked up their fighting abilities, and no Greek would allow such bragging to go unmatched. The prize-winning fighter, Nick Lampropolous, was surrounded by his cousins in the far corner. With winners like Nick, Greek pride pulsed amid the tables of the crowded establishment.

  Alex joined his brother at a square table by the bar. “Nick will be sorely missed when he returns to Greece,” Alex said.

  “Ah. Yes. But he promises to send over his nephew.” Yanni tapped his foot to the music. “And he is twice his size.”

  “Perhaps his nephew will stay for good.”

  “We are lucky, you and I.” His brother leaned back in his chair. “Momma’s restaurant is prosperous, and we have nothing but time to gain our successes.”

  “And with time, comes wisdom.” Alex winked, trying to convince himself that he had been wise more than foolish as he had cowered in the shadows.

  “And maybe a life free from Anthis and those American bigots?” Yanni slung back a drink of ouzo. “I only envy Nick because he’ll wipe his hands clean of those men.”

  “Men like Nick do not help our attempt to become respected by the American miners.” Alex ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “He comes, makes money, and returns.”

  “Can you blame him, though? He has family back in Greece. Y
ou know what that is like, Brother. Helena needed the money you were going to send—”

  Alex tossed a heated glare at his brother. Why did he bring that up?

  Yanni lifted his hands up in surrender. “I am sorry, Alex. May her memory be eternal.” He bobbed his head and lowered his eyes, clasping his hands together. After a moment, he leaned over the table and in a hushed voice said, “You can’t point fingers at men like Nick and blame them for the ignorant Americans. Everyone is free to choose what’s best for their lives, don’t you agree?”

  He spoke truth. But the mention of Helena only reminded Alex of a choice that he’d made—one that would haunt him forever. He dragged his fingers through his curls and sipped his drink.

  Yanni shifted around the table, slid in another chair, and slapped Alex’s back. “Brother, you seem too serious for such a night.” He shook his finger. “Cheer up, or I’ll offer you up to the Japanese fighter.” He then rose to his feet and joined arms with another Greek. They began to sing their nation’s anthem, as was custom before a fight. A bustle of Japanese miners entered the place along with a sprinkling of fat snowflakes.

  Alex had little interest in any of it. Winter was upon them, and if there was one thing time did not bring, it was healing. This season only taunted him. Years ago, he had sworn his first winter in America would be his last. He’d worked hard for his wages, with every intention of returning to Greece. But it was all in vain, the lot of it. No help from God, no use to send back money. Helena died, and he was alone in a foreign land without reason at all. Just like Mrs. McKee, he had been abandoned because of money. Had Jack crippled his wife’s wallet? This was difficult for Alex to imagine. His friend was a good man.

  And his wife had been good to his family. Hurt flushed her face tonight. Her blue eyes were ready to burst with grief—and perhaps anger? He’d felt the same way when Helena had died before his chance to help her. But while it seemed Mrs. McKee’s anger was at Jack, Alex was only angry with himself. For believing in answered prayer and foolish providence.

  All these years, one thing remained the same—it was up to him alone to stay the course. Everything depended on Alex Pappas—his family, their success, and most of all, their happiness.

  Watch your step.” Leanna tightened her grip on Teddy’s small gloved hand. Patches of ice offered dangerous stepping-stones up the slope to the schoolhouse.

  “We know. We have snow in Kalavryta.” Maria walked ahead with her arms out like a circus performer on a tight rope.

  “Be careful, Maria,” Leanna called out.

  The girl shook her head, spun on her toe, and tilted her nose to the sky. “See, I am not afraid.”

  Leanna clicked her tongue in disapproval then pulled Teddy closer to her side just before he stepped onto a shiny layer of ice.

  “Thank you, Meesus McKee.” He shivered as he spoke. She nearly picked him up. The urge to protect him surprised her. How could she grow attached to these children in such a short time?

  “Thios Alex make snowshoes. We are ready for winter.” Maria wobbled, caught herself, and giggled. Leanna winced.

  Thios Alex.

  It had been two weeks since Alex had brought her dinner. Beyond his dazzling smile and unexpected gift, he praised Jack, unleashing her bitterness into that cool night air. Why had she allowed her anger to admit Jack’s shortcomings? Hadn’t she spited him enough in his living? She was wretched with guilt as she ate dinner that night. The delicious food was wasted on her sour attitude.

  Teddy’s teeth chattered, and Leanna wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “We’re almost there, Teddy. You need a thicker coat.”

  Maria squealed as her foot slipped and she began to fall back. With a quick jerk, Leanna let go of Teddy and caught his sister under the arms. “Thank you, Meesus McKee.” Maria looked up with an apologetic look.

  “I told you to be careful, Miss Pappas.” She stood her up and crouched down to Maria’s eye level. “You will walk beside us, now. No more silliness on the ice.”

  Maria nodded. Teddy clutched at Leanna’s skirt. She reached for his hand, but with the next step his arms flew up and he fell back on his side.

  His wail pierced the air, and he began to scream in Greek.

  Leanna froze with panic. “What is it? Where are you hurt?” She tried to pull him up to standing, but he screamed louder.

  “Quick, Maria, go get your grandfather,” Leanna said.

  Maria gave her a blank stare as the color drained from her face. She shook her head and lifted her shoulders. She didn’t understand. Leanna took in a deep breath. She had heard them reference their grandfather when she dropped them off at the restaurant.

  “Pa-pou,” Leanna over-pronounced the name she’d heard them speak a handful of times. Maria’s eyes lit up and she treaded carefully down the hill again.

  “Shh, shh.” Leanna adjusted Teddy’s hat to keep the cold away, and brushed his forehead with her own gloved hand. The little boy whimpered and shivered.

  Lord, protect him.

  A sudden shriek of pain escaped his purple lips, and he began to sob. Leanna forced back her own tears. She unbuttoned her coat and took it off, placing it over Teddy like a blanket. Teddy’s mouth began to tremble uncontrollably, and his face paled to an off shade of his olive complexion.

  “There, there.” She wiped a tear from his cheek.

  If she could talk to him in his language, she’d provide some sort of comfort. Even though she’d been surrounded by Greeks for nearly a year, she had done nothing to understand them. Jack had always revered the Greek men as strong workers, but Leanna couldn’t see past his betrayal to care much for her students.

  In this moment with Teddy, an old passion stirred inside her. He was in her care, and just as scared and in need as the American children who’d inspired her back home. Why had she let herself believe that teaching immigrant children was any less noble than educating the children of the Boston slums? This was the work she’d wanted to do when her sewing circle first spoke of education for all.

  The frigid air bit through her thin cotton sleeves, and her lips quivered in the cold. Her teeth began to chatter just as she spotted Maria and her grandfather trekking toward them. “Papou is here,” she said, stroking Teddy’s hair.

  Mr. Pappas ran up to them, mumbling in Greek. He was a distinguished man, with graying sideburns and a salt-and-pepper mustache. Concern puckered his brow, shadowing his pale blue eyes. “Ella, ella,” he said in a hushed tone. The man carefully handed Leanna her coat and then scooped Teddy into his arms.

  The boy screamed and grabbed at his left arm, which dangled loosely to the ground. Mr. Pappas sucked air in his teeth, grimacing in a regretful way. He gingerly helped Teddy rest his arm on his belly, then cradled the boy close to his body. Teddy snuggled against his broad chest, and Mr. Pappas kissed his forehead.

  “Thank you to send Maria.” His words rolled with an accent, but they were comprehensible.

  “Of course.” Leanna brushed her hand along Teddy’s back, fighting the urge to kiss him also. She quickly stepped away.

  Mr. Pappas, Teddy, and Maria made their way carefully down the hill while Leanna continued on to school. The school bell rang as she opened the gate, and the children ran to line up.

  Perhaps she would learn some Greek from her students today. The Americans and Greeks stayed to themselves, yet the relentless jeering from Mrs. Rudolf’s students filled the entire school yard. She shook her head. What good would learning Greek do? Unless the American children were taught differently, the dividing line would remain as deep as the mountain ore. And if their upbringing was anything like hers had been, they had been bred to know that lines were never to be crossed. Propriety was strong and powerful, just like prejudice. And the consequences could be dangerous. Teddy and Maria had more to worry about than broken limbs.

  Why had the Pappas family chosen to live in such a stifling place as this?

  Morning light shone before her, a stark contrast to the Greek
priest hurrying along the road ahead. He wore a tall black hat, long dark beard, and a black robe as he turned toward Greek Town. A foreboding shadow cast across Leanna’s spirit. The last time she’d seen a priest in Castle Gate, he’d stood solemn like a charcoal statue, waving incense over one of the coffins near Jack’s gravesite.

  She quickened her pace to the front porch of the Pappas restaurant, anxious to check on Teddy. Savory smells of roasted meat, garlic, and butter filled her nostrils.

  “Good morning, Mrs. McKee.” Alex stepped out from under the canopy of the porch. His olive skin was clean of coal, and his white button-up shirt was crisp and gleaming. “Maria will be out shortly.”

  “How is Teddy?” She adjusted her out-of-season hat—much too small of a brim to be fashionable now, but perfectly suitable for the widow of a common man.

  “He has a broken arm, but more than that, a poor attitude.” He smirked.

  “I cannot imagine that. He seems like such a joy,” she said, distracted by her thoughts. “Mr. Pappas, do you think his attitude is just about the arm? I fear that the children at school are unrelenting.”

  Alex searched her with a steady gaze. Not just her eyes, but her hair, her cheeks, and her mouth. She tried not to melt. Finally, she turned her attention down the main street lined with wagons.

  “I would like to thank you.” Alex cleared his throat. “We would like to thank you. You were a great comforter to Teddy, just as you helped ease the children’s growing pains the other day.”

  Growing pains? A weight pressed against her heart, the same disappointment when Mrs. Rudolf affirmed the rude behavior of her students. “I fear the jesting is more than growing pains. Will the children ever feel welcome here, Mr. Pappas?” she asked.

  “You have made them welcome, Mrs. McKee.” His eyes sparkled beneath his fisherman’s cap, and again she was forced to look away. There was so much life behind those eyes. So much curiosity and hope.

  “I am one woman who is being paid to care for them,” Leanna said. The burden of caring beyond that suffocated her. She could not grow attached. “What about every obstacle they’ll meet along the way?”