But once he was in the classroom, Nevenka’s smile brightened Martin’s day. He took the seat next to her but didn’t have a chance to even exchange a word since Mrs. Vukovich had arrived, giving the class a stern look before turning to the blackboard to write some vocabulary. Martin was thankful he was learning English, but he was not enjoying one minute of it with this humorless teacher. When class was over, Martin walked out with Nevenka but again they didn’t have much time to talk since he had to break away to get to the restaurant with Stanislav whom he now called Stan, a shorter and more American name.
Uncle Anton was already busy prepping food for the day. Martin washed his hands and put on an apron before starting the chopping ritual for mirepoix. His knife skills were getting better the more he practiced, and he actually found he enjoyed the work. Today Uncle Anton gave him a fish to clean. “I assume you know how to do it since you worked at the Fulton Fish Market.”
“Yes, I do. But it was my father who taught me the technique. He knew how to do it better than anyone at the Fulton Market.” Then Martin proceeded to demonstrate his skill to his uncle, finishing the job in record time.
“You are a master and here is your reward.” With that, Uncle Anton set a basket full of fish at Martin’s feet for him to filet. Some reward. But he took pride in his skill and found the work satisfying. Then a thought occurred to him. “Uncle, do you think they could use my skill down at the wharf?”
“They certainly could but when would you have the time? And besides, they start early in the morning.”
“Maybe I could go before English class.”
Uncle Anton let out a deep belly laugh that jiggled his double chin. “What and smell like a fish in school?”
Martin realized his mistake. Not only would Mrs. Vukovich not permit him in her classroom but he’d risk Nevenka never speaking to him again. “I guess there’s no time in the day right now. But maybe when I finish my classes I could do it to earn money quicker.”
“You’re ambitious, Martin, and not afraid of work. You will succeed. Just be patient.”
Martin lived for Sundays and now another one had arrived. Today he wanted to take Nevenka to the Chinatown he had heard about. But when he first arrived at the Slavonic Society, he did not see her anywhere. He went outside to look for her but did not see her coming so he went back inside to spend time with his family. When the band struck up a kolo, Martin was feeling low but his cousins insisted he join the dance. Then unexpectedly someone cut in next to him—it was Nevenka. Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise as his eyes lit up his entire face and he held her hand tenderly in his. By the time the dance ended, Martin’s heart was beating so fast he barely had breath to ask Nevenka’s father if he could take her for an excursion.
Once the pair passed under Chinatown’s gate, they knew they were in a different world—men with long pigtails scurried about in wide-legged pants, women with bound feet took tiny quick steps as they went about their errands, young children dressed in native costumes pranced in the streets and lurked around corners. Martin and Nevenka felt out of place as they passed stores with strange-looking fruit, whole chickens hanging by the neck, and other unfamiliar foods that smelled as bad as they looked.
“Let’s find a place for tea,” Martin said. Nevenka nodded in agreement and within the minute, they found themselves seated at the Lotus Blossom Tea Room with a waitress, in a red silk dress, ready to take their order. “We have dim sum today,” she said with a lilted accent. Martin and Nevenka looked at each other, neither understanding what she meant. The waitress caught their looks and said, “Small bites.” Then she pointed at the next table of guests who had just been served dumplings.
Martin exchanged a glance with Nevenka. “Just dumplings, please.”
The waitress disappeared and then returned with a steaming pot of jasmine green tea, which she poured into two cups. Martin and Nevenka had to blow on the surface to cool it before taking a sip. They looked up at each other and smiled. But Martin liked the Japanese way better of passing the bowl. He’d have to find another way for their lips to meet.
Soon the waitress was back with dumplings—one filled with pork, the other with shrimp. They fumbled with their chopsticks as they tried to pick up a dumpling but failed over and over again until they gave up and used their fingers. The waitress hesitated, not knowing whether to offer them a fork or not. She didn’t want to insult them, so instead she went into the kitchen, giggling, to share her story of the ignorant foreigners.
When Martin was presented with the check, he was pleasantly surprised to see two fortune cookies accompanying it and gave one to Nevenka while he kept the other for himself. They opened their fortune cookies but since they could read neither English nor Chinese, they put the fortunes away for safekeeping. “We could ask Mrs. Vukovich to translate,” said Nevenka, not knowing Martin’s opinion of the teacher.
“Better to ask my uncle. Give me yours and I’ll have him translate it, too.”
Martin looked up at the wall clock and saw it was getting very close to four o’clock, the time they needed to head back to the Slavonic Society to meet their families. He hurried Nevenka out of the tea room and through the town until at last they had passed back under the gate. The tea had revived them so they were able to keep up a brisk pace all the way back. They arrived just in time for the final kolo, which they both danced with joy.
Chapter 10
The year 1904 was drawing to a close. The season of brotherhood and good cheer had begun as halls were decked, candles set in windows, and shoppers hustled along the streets, ducking in and out of stores in search of special gifts for loved ones. And Martin was no different. He wanted to give Nevenka a gift that revealed his heart, but not too much. He thought about asking his aunt for advice and then dismissed the idea. But when he saw Katarina at Sunday dinner, he decided to approach her since she was still young and in love. “Paul gave me a locket in the shape of a heart with his picture in it. That said more to me than a thousand words could have.” So, now Martin had the idea but he had to find the perfect one.
The following Sunday on the third Sunday of Advent, the Slavonic Society was holding its annual Christmas Party, which included the usual social time and dancing but also a potluck dinner. Before he left for the festivities, Martin slipped a little package wrapped in gold with a red satin bow into his pocket. It contained a gold locket in the shape of a heart with the letter N engraved in a Copperplate script. Martin thought it was an elegant piece of jewelry and only hoped Nevenka would appreciate the thought that went into it. He needed to find the right moment to present it to her at the party this afternoon.
The Slavonic Society hall was filled with families when they arrived. The men had on their best suits, a starched dress shirt with cuff links, and a necktie held in place with a jeweled tie clasp, drawing attention to the kravata invented by Croats and introduced to Western Europe by Croatian mercenaries. The women were attired in fancy long dresses, if not silk then a shimmery fabric with intricate hand-beaded designs on the bodice. At first glance, one would think this was a regal gathering in a European salon. Even though Croatians were poor and oppressed, they were cultured, which was so evident in their dress.
Martin was humbled amongst these people in his only suit of poor quality and ill fit. But once the music started up, he forgot all about himself and began the search for Nevenka. She was standing in a corner surrounded by family and friends, but when she saw him she came forward in a stunning deep-blue dress with a sweetheart neckline. Martin thought he had never seen a lovelier looking young woman in his life. And the pendant would be the perfect finishing touch on the exposed white skin that shimmered in the light even without the addition of jewels. Martin extended his hand to lead Nevenka to the dance floor where a kolo had already begun.
The warmth of so many bodies in the room made Martin feel feverish as he moved in a circle while his feet tapped out the rhythm. When the music ended, Martin led Nevenka to the punch bowl a
nd offered her a cool drink. Once they had quenched their thirst he took her by the elbow to move her away from the crowd and said, “I have a Christmas present for you.” Nevenka’s blue eyes widened as she blushed. Then he presented her with the package, which she carefully unwrapped. And with a gasp of pleasure, she gently removed the necklace, unclasped it, and put it on. “It’s so beautiful Martin. I only wish I had a mirror to see how it looks on. But it feels so right.”
“I can tell you how you look. Lovelier than ever. Between the regal-style dress and the pendant, you look like a real princess.” Nevenka blushed again. “At least to me,” he said. Now Martin wanted to kiss her but he didn’t dare in this room full of eyes. Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips tenderly upon her palm, feeling the heat of passion.
The arrival of the Christmas tree, a balsam evergreen, heralded the Twelve Days of Christmas beginning on Christmas Eve. The tree was placed in the living room in front of the bow window, which would showcase its decorated splendor, beaming with candlelight. Aunt Mirna and Katarina decorated the tree with many old-world ornaments brought from Croatia, various beaded garlands of pearl, gold, and silver, and candles that would be lit in celebration. The nativity scene was carefully set upon the mantle, surrounded by greens and red holly berries. No one was allowed to enter the room until it was time for the celebration to begin. Meantime, Aunt Mirna had the bakalar en brodo stew on the stove simmering, homemade bread in the oven baking, fritule dough on the counter rising. A variety of salads and vegetables awaited their time in the dark, cool pantry.
Dinner would be served late as the restaurant was open tonight, although it would be closing at 8:00 p.m. instead of 9:00 p.m. Uncle Anton liked to keep the restaurant open on this holiest of nights for the poor souls that had no one to be with or had to work not allowing them to spend the time with their families. It was often policemen, firemen, and nurses who filled his tables on Christmas Eve, and he always tried to make it a special meal for them.
Of course, he would have bakalar en brodo on the menu but he also had other favorites such as salmon, duck, and even rack of lamb. Anton knew this meal might be serving as the Christmas dinner as well. He always had special desserts on the menu and passed out Christmas cookies as his way of showing appreciation to his customers who made his living possible. Besides, hospitality was a serious practice in Croatia and considered a Christian virtue. Anton embraced hospitality with a loving heart—one reason customers returned to his restaurant over and over again. People could get a meal anywhere, but one made with love had the ingredient that sustained not just the body but also the soul.
Martin would remember his first Christmas in America the rest of his life. From the elegant Christmas Eve dinner to the Christmas tree aglow with lights and jewels with presents piled beneath, wrapped in butcher paper and tied with ribbon, but enchanting no less. The Church of the Holy Nativity came alive Christmas morning with the voices of a hundred or more children singing hymns in the choir. Afterward, the Slavic community gathered in the hall for coffee and cakes since there would be no event at the Slavonic Society this day. Instead everyone would depart for home to spend time with their families.
Aunt Mirna cooked most of the Christmas dinner herself. The piece de resistance was suckling pig, her specialty. The cavity was filled with a rice, apricot, and walnut stuffing which imparted an aromatic flavor to the pork and added a sweet flavor to the drippings for gravy. When the meal was over, the family gathered around the Christmas tree while Katarina played traditional carols on the piano, leading everyone in song. In the wee hours of the morning, everyone headed upstairs to bed and no one could have been happier than Martin.
The week went by quickly until it was time for New Year’s Eve and the party at the Slavonic Society. Martin had not seen Nevenka during the holidays and looked forward to spending the evening with her. She was not in the room when Martin arrived but entered shortly afterward, wearing a shimmery gold gown and the locket, shining like a beacon under the lights. Martin immediately went up to greet her and her family. He felt a bit awkward, not knowing what to say to her parents, and was saved by the band, which struck up a kolo. Martin took Nevenka by the hand, leading her to the dance floor.
Shortly before midnight, waitresses passed glasses of champagne around and Martin took two, handing one to Nevenka. Martin had been anticipating this moment all week, and when the clock rang in the New Year, cheers went up and, seeing couples kissing all around him, Martin pulled Nevenka toward him and brought his lips to hers in a tender caress. He could feel the passion rise in him, wanting more. But he knew the time was not right. It was too soon. Besides, there were too many eyes on them, especially those of her parents. He didn’t want to risk losing her because he had appeared too forward. Nevenka was too special. She was going to be a big part of his future.
Chapter 11
One morning, Martin entered the kitchen to find a copy of the San Francisco Caller on the table with the bold print headline: “Mrs. Stanford is Dead at Honolulu.” That came as a shock to Martin just like it did to most people living in the City by the Bay, not so much because Mrs. Stanford was dead but because foul play was suspected—arsenic poisoning. Martin could not read the whole story since he did not yet know English well, so he looked forward to getting the scuttlebutt at the restaurant.
Stan had not heard about the suspected murder so there was not much more to learn on the walk to the restaurant. However, Vlad was full of rumors and theories: some think it was the maid, others the Chinese cook, still others the president of Stanford University who was often at odds with Mrs. Stanford. Uncle Anton said, “This is such a dramatic story that no news could be found today on the Russo-Japan War. Incredible.”
Day after day sensational stories appeared about the investigation with far-flung facts and outright lie. Public opinion, which had been anti-Chinese since the city’s early days, sought to demonize the Chinese cook even after he was cleared as a suspect. Martin could not believe what he had heard. His visit to Chinatown not long ago with Nevenka had been a pleasant experience, especially at the teahouse where he had been welcomed so warmly. He did not understand what could cause this kind of hatred. But he would try to find out.
After church on Sunday, Martin told his family he would meet them at the Slavonic Society later in the afternoon. They asked no questions so he did not volunteer that he was going to Nob Hill to take another look at the Stanford Mansion. On the way, Nabobs in newfangled automobiles passed him on the street. When he got there, he noticed guards had been posted around the entrances to the house. I guess the estate lawyers fear looting. As he stared at the massive structure so opulent and ornate, he could only think how sad it was that wealth had not protected Mrs. Stanford from one of the worst fates known to man—death by the hand of a trusted associate, in this case mostly likely a maid. Martin had learned that a few weeks earlier, Mrs. Stanford had suspected poisoning and let a maid go who had not been with her long. But now the finger pointed at someone who had been in her employ for many years, someone she relied upon and trusted. Martin wondered what would happen to this mansion since the Stanfords’ only child had died young. Money, he thought, does not shield a person from the grim realities of life. His parents had always taught him to follow moderation as the proper way to live one’s life. The Stanfords were an example of those who achieved great success in the world but in the end were left with nothing except a monument to their excess. Martin took one last look at the mansion, shook his head, turned, and hurried in the direction of the Slavonic Society. He wanted to see Nevenka and enjoy the day. That was his idea of riches.
Chapter 12
One Sunday in late fall the family was gathered for dinner and had just finished dessert while waiting for Mirna to bring in the coffee service. Once she arrived with it, Paul stood up and said, “I’d like to make an announcement.” A hush fell over the room. This had never happened before so no one knew what to expect. “Katarina and I are expecting
our first child this summer.” Mirna broke into tears hugging Katarina who sat next to her. Then Uncle Anton stood up. “This calls for a toast. Vlad, please go to the basement and get a bottle of Mumm’s and while you’re at it, bring up the sljivovica, too.”
Vlad wasted no time with his errand. When he returned with the bottles, crystal champagne and liquor glasses had already been set at everyone’s place. Anton nodded to Vlad who opened the champagne expertly with a pop, not allowing even a drop to escape. He went around the table filling glasses—first his father, then his mother, next Paul, Martin, and himself. Then he looked to his mother for advice on Katarina’s portion. “A little won’t hurt.”
Once Vlad sat down, Anton rose from his place at the head of the table and raised his glass. “To the next generation. May Paul and Katarina receive the blessing of many children.”
“You must write Marko and tell him the news,” Mirna said to Katarina. “He will be so happy for you just as we all are.”
Martin could hardly wait to tell Nevenka about the baby. After class he pulled her aside and said, “Guess what?” She gave him a perplexed look. “Katarina is in the family way.”
Nevenka looked at Martin with her big blue eyes and smiled. “I love children. I hope I’m lucky enough to have a dozen.”
The California Immigrant Page 5
