All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

  “Take these young scamps off me, Mama,” he begged. “They’re tearing me apart.” But all the while he was laughing as if he didn’t really want them to leave him alone. Finally he thrust the box into Ella’s hands. “Here you are!” The children left Charlie and surrounded Ella instead.

  Charlie sat down on the couch. He took off his straw hat and wiped the inside band with his pocket handkerchief. “Phew!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hand over the red ring on his forehead the tight hatband had made.

  Meanwhile the children were shouting, “Let’s see, Ella. What’s in it?” and trying to poke their heads into the box all at the same time.

  “Wait a minute!” Ella said. “You’re tearing the box.” She put it down on the kitchen table and took off the cover. Inside was an assortment of small red tubes with little wicks attached.

  “Red candles!” cried Gertie.

  “Firecrackers!” her sisters all yelled. “Ooh — let’s shoot them off right away!”

  “Let’s get the matches!” Henny flew to the shelf above the kitchen stove where they were kept.

  “Hold on there!” Charlie called out warningly. “I’ll take those.” And his long legs strode across the kitchen floor to rescue the matches. “We can’t shoot off firecrackers in the house. Get the box, Ella, and I’ll see you all downstairs.” He was out the kitchen door like a shot, and the children tumbled over each other in their haste to catch up with him.

  The streets were full of excitement. Everybody was expressing their joy in freedom today. From tenement house windows and from store fronts flew American flags of all sizes. The air was filled with the clang of cowbells and the blasts of horns. Youngsters in small groups yelled and hopped up and down as they waited with bated breath for their firecrackers to explode. At times the noise was deafening! And now Mama’s children were to add their share to the general hubbub.

  “Firecrackers are a lot of fun, but they can be dangerous,” cautioned Charlie. “So we will have to be careful. I was careless once when I was a little boy and I burnt my hands badly.”

  “Tell us about it, Charlie,” said Ella eagerly.

  “Well, it was a long time ago. I must have been about Charlotte’s age. You should have seen me then. I was dressed in white pants and white blouse with a blue-striped sailor collar.”

  “I bet you looked cute,” Henny said.

  “I suppose so,” Charlie smiled at the memory. “We had just moved to a summer cottage at the seashore. It was a pleasant place, with tall trees shading the front lawn. There were lots of flowers, too. And there was always a fresh, clean breeze from the ocean.” Charlie’s voice faded away for a moment. He half closed his eyes as if trying to recall the scene.

  “Father and I were shooting off firecrackers and Mother watched us from the front porch. Father warned me to be careful but I paid no attention. I held the lighted firecracker in my hand and watched the bright flame. The next second, it exploded in my hands.

  “Father rushed me to the kitchen and put oil on my burnt fingers. I ran to Mother and she took me in her arms. I cried, and cried …”

  Charlie seemed to have forgotten the children. He stopped talking and looked off into the distance.

  Ella watched Charlie, trying to imagine him as a small boy. But her sisters were tugging at his elbow. “Charlie,” they shouted. He shook himself as if to get free of his memory. He was back on the East Side now — back to the narrow, smelly streets, teeming with people.

  “Charlie, did it hurt?” Gertie asked.

  “Did what hurt?”

  “When you burnt your hand.”

  Charlie smiled down at Gertie so full of concern for him. “Uh — yes, it hurt, but not too much. Come on — let’s shoot off the first one.”

  Charlie lit the firecrackers and threw them away from the little group. The girls stood fascinated, holding their hands to their ears and jumping when the firecrackers exploded.

  When the firecrackers were all gone, Mama called them up for supper.

  What a wonderful meal it was! Five pairs of eyes shone both from the excitement of the firecrackers and the pleasure of having Charlie there for supper.

  “Charlie,” said Mama as she served the meat course, “I’ve made one of your favorite dishes today.”

  “Oh boy! Potato pudding, I bet!”

  Mama took the kugel out of the oven and bore it triumphantly to the table. It looked very festive in all its crusty, brown deliciousness on Mama’s best company platter. She set it down right before Charlie. “All for me?” Charlie looked at the children. “Too bad, kids, there won’t be any for you.”

  “Well,” Mama laughed, “if you have a mind to be generous, you might give us each a small portion.”

  “M-mm!” Charlie said, after he had finished his third helping. “It surely tasted wonderful, but I just can’t eat another mouthful.”

  “When you get married, Charlie,” Mama told him, “you send your wife to me and I’ll give her the recipe.”

  “I will,” said Charlie, “if I ever have a wife.”

  Somehow Mama must have said the wrong thing, for the laughter had gone from Charlie’s face. Ella twisted the napkin in her hands and looked at him unhappily. There was an awkward silence.

  All at once the silence was broken. From the street there arose the eerie shriek of whistles, the clanging of bells and the pounding of hoofs.

  “Fire engines!” everybody yelled and jumped up from their chairs to rush madly to the front-room windows.

  They were just in time to see four gray horses gallop by, pulling the fire engine. The fire house dog ran beside the lead horses, barking furiously. Close on the engine came a long red hook-and-ladder truck. The firemen clung perilously to their perches as the wagons rounded the corner. People in the gutters scrambled to get out of the way, and little boys raced excitedly in a vain attempt to keep up with the horses.

  “If I were a boy,” said Henny, “that’s what I would want to be — a fireman!”

  “If you were a boy …” Papa began and stopped. If only at least one child had been a boy, he thought. But which one? He smiled to himself. He couldn’t possibly imagine life without any one of his five girls.

  “… you’d be too much for one Mama to manage,” Mama finished for him.

  Behind them all, Gertie’s little voice said timidly, “Are they gone, Charlie?”

  Charlie turned to the small figure. Her eyes were big and scared-looking. He picked the little girl up.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Afraid of the fire-engines?”

  “I don’t like that noise,” Gertie said. “It scares me!”

  “I don’t like that noise, either,” said Mama. “It means the bonfires have started already. The fire department is going to have a busy night putting them out.

  “The tar on the streets melts,” added Papa, “and the cobblestones get loose. Then the city has a job to repair the damage.”

  “I wish we could see the bonfires,” Henny said.

  “Oh, no!” Mama was firm. “I don’t want any of you children near a fire.”

  Charlie looked at the downcast faces. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll show you something even better than a bonfire. Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes — Papa and Mama, too.” He was gone before anyone could say a word.

  The time passed slowly for the impatient children. What could be better than a bonfire, they asked each other. They were consumed with curiosity. When finally Charlie reappeared with an even bigger box this time, they fell upon him like a bunch of puppy dogs.

  “Another box, Charlie!” everyone shouted.

  “Uh-huh,” Charlie told them. “It’s a surprise.”

  “He’s full of surprises today,” Ella said admiringly.

  “Charlie, what did you get now?” exclaimed Mama. “You already bought them firecrackers. You shouldn’t be throwing your money around like this.”

  “That’s Charlie,” Papa said. “Today a millionaire, tomorrow he won’t h
ave a nickel in his pocket.”

  Charlie laughed. “Who’ll I save my money for?”

  He opened the box and pulled out something that looked like the sawed-off end of a broomstick. “See, kids! This is a Roman candle. There’s one for each, but I’ll shoot them off.”

  He held the stick upright in his left hand and lit the fuse with the other. As he waved it slowly in a circular motion, it began to give out sparks. “Now watch! Here she goes!”

  ZOOM! A ball of white fire shot up towards the rooftops. ZOOM! A red ball followed a moment later. ZOOM! Out came a yellow. ZOOM! Last of all, a green!

  Faces uplifted in awed wonder, the astonished children followed the flight of the globes of flame against the dark sky. Each glowing ball hung there for a moment like a glittering star, and then disappeared.

  “Just look at all the colors!” cried Charlotte.

  Even Papa and Mama were thrilled. “Something marvelous!” exclaimed Papa.

  “Here goes another!” cried Charlie.

  Once again the magical colors streamed heavenward. Soon around the family there gathered an ever-increasing audience. Here was a display they could watch for nothing. From all sides the neighbors and their children came running. From tenement house windows, a multitude of heads stretched forth over the sills to gape at the rare treat. Mama’s children felt proud because it was their Charlie who was giving everybody such a good time.

  “That’s all!” said Charlie, as the children watched the last flicker of the last Roman candle. “The box is empty. The show is over.”

  The bystanders gradually drifted away. The little girls were tired, and there wasn’t a word of protest when Mama announced, “Upstairs, children. It’s way past your bedtime.”

  “What a day!” cried Henny as the family started up the stairs.

  “Yes,” said Mama, “thanks to our Charlie, we’ve had enough excitement to last a year.”

  After Mama and the girls had gone upstairs, Papa and Charlie sat on the steps and talked. They talked a long time.

  When Papa came upstairs at last the girls were asleep, all but Ella. She lay beside Sarah, thinking about all the wonderful fun they had had with Charlie.

  Ella heard Papa draw up a chair at the open window beside Mama’s. She heard him say:

  “I guess Charlie was homesick or lonesome or something tonight. The good time he had with the children made him think of his home, I suppose. Anyway he talked a lot about himself.”

  Ella lifted herself up on her elbows so she could hear everything.

  “It seems that Charlie quarreled with his parents about a girl he wanted to marry. They wanted him to marry another girl.

  “Charlie’s girl learned that his parents opposed their marriage, and she just went away. Charlie looked for her everywhere he could think of, but he couldn’t find a trace of her. She was an orphan and he didn’t know any of her people.”

  Ella heard Mama’s sympathetic “Tck, tck,” and her own heart was heavy as lead.

  “It ruined Charlie’s life,” Papa went on. “When he lost his girl, he lost interest in everything. He was very angry at his parents, and left home. He gave up his career, he dropped his friends, his old life — even his old name. His full name is Herbert Charles Graham.

  “But he’s never stopped trying to find the girl. All those weeks when he stays away from the shop, he is out looking for her. He’s even advertised in the papers, but he has never had an answer.

  “That’s why he lives down here. The life of the people here is so different from what he knew before. Here he finds it easier to forget.…”

  Papa’s voice died away, and he and Mama sat in silent thought. Then to their ears came the sound of muffled weeping. Mama looked at Papa in surprise. She rose and went into the other room.

  Ella’s face was buried in her damp pillow; she was trying to stop but the sobs grew heavier instead.

  “Come, come, my darling,” Mama said tenderly. “Why do you cry so hard?”

  “It’s — so — s-sad,” Ella said in muffled tones. “P-poor — Charlie!”

  “Come with me,” Mama said kindly. “We will talk out here where we won’t wake the others.”

  Her head in Mama’s lap and her hand in Papa’s, Ella told how she had lain awake and couldn’t help but hear the story. She didn’t say that she had been crying too at the mere thought of her idol Charlie’s having a sweetheart.

  “It is all very sad,” Mama agreed, smoothing her eldest’s dark head. “It is always very sad when parents and children quarrel.”

  “Maybe it will all come out right some day,” Papa said hopefully. “Anyway, I think it helped Charlie to talk about it.” Papa sighed. He really felt saddened over Charlie’s unhappiness, for Charlie was very close to Papa, almost like a brother — or a son.

  “Can you sleep now, Ella?” Mama asked. “You must try. It is late.”

  “All right, Mama. I’ll go back to bed.”

  Ella crawled in beside Sarah. Back in bed, however, the tears fell anew — tears for Charlie’s unhappiness, tears for herself, for now she knew that Charlie was not really her Charlie. His heart belonged to somebody else.

  “AREN’T WE LUCKY it isn’t raining,” declared Henny.

  “We certainly are,” Sarah agreed.

  “And who cares if it is hot!” sang out Charlotte.

  Ella said, “The hotter, the better!”

  It had been hot for more than a week — terribly, unbelievably hot. All day the sun had blazed on a sweltering city, and at night many of the East Siders escaped from the stifling air of their boxlike flats to sleep on fire escapes and rooftops. In Mama’s house the bedrooms were unbearable. The mattresses were removed from the beds and laid out on the floor of the front room. But that had offered little relief. For hours each night, the family tossed about in sleepless discomfort.

  Mama finally decided that no matter how much trouble it might mean for her, the children would have to be taken away from the city even if it were for only one day. “If it’s as hot as this tomorrow, we shall go to the beach,” she told the children.

  Now it was tomorrow. It had not rained, and the heat was as intense as ever. In Mama’s house there was great excitement. Ella was helping to wrap up the lunch in clean, white shoeboxes. Sarah was busy buttoning Gertie up the back. “Stand still,” she demanded, “you wiggle like a fish.”

  As usual when things were stirring, Charlotte sat lost in thought. One high-buttoned shoe was in her hand, the other lay on the floor beside her. Mama looked up from the lunch wrapping and noticed her. “Dreamer! Wake up!” She shook Charlotte lightly on the shoulder. “Do you want to be left behind?” That brought Charlotte back to the everyday world at once.

  When at last everything was ready, there were so many parcels that each child had to carry one. They set out for the streetcar which would take them to the beach.

  Though it was early in the morning, the car depot was already full to overflowing with the noisy, pushing, excited throng. The children clung tightly to Mama and to each other as they were hustled up the stairs of the car and into their seats. They were lucky to get seats even though they were wedged together in a space meant for half their number. Before the car pulled away from the station, Mama counted her young ones to make sure she had them all with her.

  A rush of warm air began to blow in their faces as the car started to move and all settled down for the long, long ride.

  Ella was wedged into a corner next to Mama. She said softly, “What’s happening to Charlie, Mama?”

  “Nothing,” Mama answered. “He’s feeling pretty hopeless these days, Papa says. Papa feels very bad too, because he’s so fond of Charlie.”

  Ella sat quietly thinking about Charlie. After the first shock of discovering about his sweetheart, Ella’s thoughts had been captivated with the romance, imagining various happy endings to the affair. Soon she had a mental picture of Charlie’s girl; she was lovely, of course, and filled with the highest ideals; kind an
d gentle — but proud and high-spirited, too. Some day Charlie would be riding on a streetcar — just like this — and a girl would get on, a beautiful golden-haired girl, beautifully dressed; Charlie would look once, then twice — then he would take her in his arms.…

  “Look — Coney Is-land,” Charlotte said, rousing Ella from her dreams. She pronounced it just like that. Ella and Henny laughed. “Coney Island, you mean. You don’t sound the s in the word island.”

  Coney Is-land or Coney Island, they were here at last. “Thank goodness!” Mama exclaimed, gathering up her children and bundles. She counted her brood again. They were all still with her.

  At the City Bath Houses, Ella, Henny, and Sarah undressed in one locker, while Mama shared another with Charlotte and Gertie. They got into their bathing suits quickly, took the sweaters, the lunch, and their bathhouse keys and went at once to the hot, sandy beach. It wasn’t so easy to find a place in which to settle themselves and their belongings. The beaches were crowded with other mamas who had sought relief for their children. But finally, when they had walked a few beach blocks away from the bathhouse, a suitable spot was found. The children dropped their bundles and raced madly down to the water’s edge.

  “Ooh, it’s cold,” said Sarah as the water lapped at her toes.

  “Aw, come on! Let’s get wet all over quickly,” suggested Henny. “Then we won’t mind it so much.”

  The children agreed that this was the best plan. They stepped back to where the waves did not reach, then joining hands, they ran without stopping into the ocean until the water came up to Gertie’s chest. “Ready, set, go!” Ella counted. Down they splashed, straight into the heart of a wave. Wet all over, they stood up spluttering.

  “It’s hard to believe now that it’s terribly hot in the city,” Ella said.

  “Uh-huh,” Charlotte agreed. “I’m glad Mama brought us here.”

  They splashed about happily. They formed a circle and played Ring-Around-The-Rosy. Mama had remembered to bring a ball, and they tossed it back and forth to one another. They ducked through some waves and rode on the backs of others. They had a glorious time.