Pole scrutinized the thin, fragile-looking man, who displayed no sign of ever having completed a day of manual labor in his entire life. Pole did not know why, but he immediately felt contempt for him. In his most serious tone, he replied, “We ate rats and drank our own piss.”
The look on the newspaperman’s face was one of utter disgust.
Before the man could say anything else, Pole pushed past him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to see my family.”
Pole walked over to Mickey, who was chatting animatedly with his mother and two sisters. “Mickey, I’m goin’ to head home to find my sister. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Stan Davis is going to talk to the Murphy brothers about purchasing Gus for you.”
“Your sister’s not here?” Mickey asked, surprised by the absence of Pole’s only family.
“Bridget’s terribly ill,” Mickey’s mother said in her thick Irish brogue. “She has pneumonia. The doctor doesn’t expect her to last through the night.”
Pole was speechless. Poor Lily had been dealing with crises on two fronts. “Thanks, ma’am. I need to get home.”
Pole pressed through the crowd and hobbled down the dried-up muddy road as fast as his stiff legs could carry him. As he approached his meager one-story shack, he saw the flicker of an oil lamp in the bedroom Lily and her mother shared at the back of the house. He burst through the front door, calling after his sister.
“Lily, I’m home! I made it out!”
The house was eerily quiet, its stillness foreboding. Pole stood silently in the middle of the kitchen for almost a minute before deciding to head to the next-door neighbors’. Clearly his sister was not at home. Just as he turned the knob on the front door, he heard a weak voice behind him.
“She’s gone, Pole.”
He turned around to find Lily standing in the bedroom doorway, her freckled cheeks streaked with tears. Pole ran to her and wrapped her in his arms. He held his sister close as her chest heaved, the sobs racking her body. When she finally calmed down after several minutes, he led her to the kitchen table and poured her a glass of water.
“When did Bridget pass?”
“Just as you entered the house. The minute you came back, God called her home. He would not take her until he returned you to me.”
Pole sighed. Lily believed so strongly in God’s protective power over her. He was less convinced. He sat down and stroked her curly red hair. “Did you really believe I was comin’ back? You knew I wasn’t dead?”
“Of course. I would’ve felt it if your soul had left this world.”
Pole tried to maintain a look of neutrality on his face. His sister’s faith was a bit unsettling. He worried that she was in danger of becoming delusional. He could not deny that he’d felt an ominous presence in the darkness of the mine. Whether or not it was the devil, he could not say. But Lily’s belief that God had intervened and rescued Pole was a stretch too far. The union deserved the credit for that. Pole wished he could talk some sense into his sister, but now was not the appropriate time.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with your mama’s illness all by yourself. I wish I’d been here to help you.”
“The doctor from Portage stopped by a few times. The neighbors did what they could. In the end, it was God’s will.”
Pole squeezed his sister’s hand. “It’s been a rough week. I’m goin’ to clean myself up and get something to eat. We’ll handle the funeral arrangements in the morning.”
“I’ll make you something for dinner. I’m so happy you’re home.”
Pole kissed his sister on the forehead and headed outside to get the washtub. Bridget was gone. He couldn’t believe it. It was a tragic loss, for sure, but it changed everything. Pole really was getting a second chance at life, one he had not imagined when the UMWA pulled him out of the mine. The time had finally come for him to get out of the hollow.
Thirty-Five
JANOS
BEAVER CREEK, OCTOBER 20, 1917
“What are you reading now?” Janos asked Concetta as he entered her kitchen after locking up the store. It was the third Saturday in a row that she had invited him for tea and sandwiches following the store’s closing at one o’clock. Janos usually ate a late lunch at home on Saturdays, but he was enjoying this new routine. In the two weeks since Concetta had joined his family for dinner, she had seemed increasingly eager to share his company.
“A Room with a View. It’s a lovely book, but it’s making me homesick. The story takes place in Italy.” Concetta put down the book and smiled sweetly. “I hope you’re hungry. I made egg salad sandwiches and squash caponata.” She got up from the quarter sawn oak table Janos had always admired and headed toward the refrigerator, going a few steps out of her way to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “Have a seat,” she said.
Janos suddenly felt light-headed. He wasn’t certain if Concetta’s touch was to blame, or if it was her new fragrance. She normally wore a floral scent, but today, she smelled of citrus and moss. The combination was intoxicating. He quickly sat down, hoping she did not notice he was swaying. “Are you wearing a new perfume?’
“Do you like it? It’s called Chypre de Coty,” Concetta said as she placed a plate full of food in front of him. “I’ll have your tea ready in a minute. Just a splash of milk, right?”
Janos nodded. He was flattered by the way Concetta had begun taking care of him. She seemed to be noting all his preferences, making him biscotti without almonds and not drowning his tea with too much milk. Their relationship was evolving and becoming more intimate, but Janos had not yet found the courage to reveal what was in his heart. He had come close several times in recent weeks, but could not bring the words to his lips. Living as a bachelor the past seven years had rendered him pitifully unpracticed in matters of the heart. He wondered if he should simply allow things to progress naturally. After all, Concetta was wearing a new perfume. Was he a fool to presume it was for him?
“Buon appetito,” she said as she handed him his tea and sat down beside him.
“Thank you, Concetta. You’re spoiling me, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s nice to have someone to cook for. Maybe you can stay for dinner sometime next week. I’ll make lasagna.”
Janos tried to hide his smile as he took a bite of his sandwich. Unseasoned as he was at courtship, he did not miss the subtle signals Concetta was sending him. He suddenly felt emboldened and eager to share his feelings. His stomach a bundle of knots, he forced himself to finish his sandwich while rehearsing a confession in his head.
“Would you like dessert?” she asked after he took his last bite of caponata.
“Can we talk first?” Janos folded his shaking hands in his lap, hoping to hide them from Concetta.
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Quite the opposite. I need to tell you something … ” Janos felt warm, wondering if it would be impolite to ask Concetta to open a window.
She leaned forward, her brows furrowed. “What is it?’
“I didn’t go to the bank last week to talk about the loan.”
“There’s no rush.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m not sure I’m ready to move.”
“But there’s more.” Janos took a deep breath before diving off the cliff. He unclasped his trembling hands and placed one on top of Concetta’s. Her skin was smooth and cool to the touch. “I didn’t go to the bank because … I don’t want to buy your share of the store.”
“You don’t?” she whispered.
Janos squeezed her hand. “I don’t want you to move to Philadelphia. I care for you.” He leaned closer, caressing her cheek. “More and more each day.”
Concetta closed her eyes.
“Am I wrong to think you might feel the same?”
She shook her head.
Without thinking, Janos moved his hand slowly from Concetta’s cheek to her chin. He traced her lips with his thumb, reveling in their softness. His desire growing, he leaned forward and gent
ly placed his lips upon hers. He lingered there a moment, hoping she would make the next move. He did not have to wait long. Concetta parted her lips and allowed herself to be swept up in the moment.
Janos could not say how long the kiss lasted. Time seemed to have stopped. It was Concetta who finally pulled away, her face flushed.
“I should probably get dessert,” she said, looking away.
“I’m sorry,” Janos said. “That was too much too soon, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” She brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. “Maybe.”
Janos shook his head. “I’m so ashamed. I’ve taken advantage of you and our friendship. It will never happen again.” He stood up to leave.
Concetta grabbed his arm. “Wait. That’s not what I meant. Stay.”
He sat down, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple.
“I do care for you, Janos,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “But you have to understand … until a moment ago, the only man I’d ever kissed was Antonio. I feel so guilty and yet …”
He leaned forward, gripping the seat of his chair.
“Strangely excited.”
Janos exhaled. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
She smiled and nodded.
“I understand your hesitation. I haven’t had a woman in my life since my wife—” Janos cut himself off. “I don’t know the rules of courtship for people our age. I’m not even sure I care to. I only know that the sun shines a little brighter the instant you walk into the room.”
Concetta blushed.
Janos reached for her hand. “We don’t have to figure this out today.”
“Of course not,” she said, shaking her head. “But you’ll stay for dessert—and maybe try my lasagna next week.”
“Absolutely.” Janos immediately wondered if he sounded too eager. No matter. A man his age had no time to be coy about his affections. He had never expected another chance at love at the age of forty. He was giddy with the possibilities. And while he knew Concetta was reserved and needed their relationship to evolve slowly, Janos had reason to hope she would eventually want the future he envisioned for them.
Thirty-Six
LUKAS
JOHNSTOWN, OCTOBER 27, 1917
“What do you wanna do now?” Frankie asked Lukas as he shoved another hot dog into his mouth. “We can go to the football game at the high school, or we can see a film at the nickelodeon.”
Lukas could barely understand what his friend was saying. Frankie had eaten three hot dogs in the last five minutes, but that hadn’t stopped his constant babbling. Ketchup was running down his chin, chunks of food were flying out of his mouth. Lukas wondered what Mrs. Spencer would think, her eldest son displaying such a lack of manners and good breeding in public. He smiled to himself as he imagined the look on the snobby woman’s face at seeing her son behave like a common street urchin.
“What’s with you today, Frankie? You’re eating like a horse.”
“No idea. I’ve been like this all week,” he said, wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve. “Can we stop by the five-and-dime? I could go for a few chocolate bars. Maybe some Necco wafers.”
“Halloween is in a few days. You’ll be able to steal plenty of candy from the local school kids,” Lukas said with a laugh.
“That’s not a bad idea. We need to come up with some new pranks to pull this year, too. Greasing doorknobs and knocking over trash cans is getting old. You know, someone once rang our doorbell and threw flour in our butler’s face. Maybe we should try that.”
Lukas frowned at his friend. “You’re going to end up in jail, and your mother will kill you. Forget the pranks. Let’s go to the five-and-dime for candy. We can see a film afterward.” Lukas hoped he hadn’t sounded too pushy, but he wanted to steer Frankie away from the football game. He was not up for the two-mile walk from downtown Johnstown to the local high school’s football field. His prosthetic leg had been bothering him all morning. The leather straps were rubbing against his skin more than usual, causing an itchy rash. All he could think about was sitting down.
As they entered the store, Frankie quickly forgot about his craving for candy. Sitting at the lunch counter were three young boys on shiny, red stools with stainless steel bowls of ice cream in front of them. Frankie pulled Lukas toward the lunch counter.
“This sundae is delicious,” Frankie said minutes later as he stared at his half-eaten dessert. “But I can’t finish it.” He put down his spoon and burped loudly.
“Don’t make yourself sick.” Lukas snatched Frankie’s bowl and plunged his spoon into the gooey mixture. “Guess I’ll have to finish it for you.” He groaned.
“Come on, Kovac! Don’t act like you’re doing me such a grand favor. I saw you eyeing my sundae as soon as you finished yours. You’re as much a pig as I am—you just prefer sweets.”
“Well, I’d never eat three hot dogs. You’re going to be burping all day, and we’ll never meet any girls. They’ll be running in the opposite direction once they get a whiff of your dog breath.”
“Lukas? Lukas Kovac?”
Someone was tapping Lukas on the shoulder. He turned around to find a large, muscular man staring down at him. He wore the simple clothes of a laborer—brown pants and a blue work shirt. Lukas would have felt threatened by the brawny man if not for his kind face. For some reason, his green eyes looked hauntingly familiar.
“Do I know you?” Lukas asked hesitantly.
“I think you might. Are you Lukas Kovac from Riverton, Pennsylvania? Sofie’s younger brother?”
“I am. But I haven’t lived in Riverton for years.” Lukas studied the man’s face. He looked so familiar. His mind worked quickly to connect the dots—to tie the face of this grown man to Riverton and his sister, Sofie. And then, suddenly, he knew. “Oh my God! Pole Stofanik?”
The man grinned from ear to ear as he grabbed Lukas’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“What the hell happened to you, Pole? You’re enormous! And what are you doing in Johnstown?”
“I could ask the same of you. You’ve grown up quite a bit, too. How old are you now, Lukas?”
“Fifteen.”
“What are you doin’ so far from Riverton? Is Sofie here?”
Lukas noticed the way Pole’s eyes lit up when he’d said his sister’s name. “No. My family lives north of Pittsburgh now. I’m a student at Westmont Academy.”
Pole looked confused. He didn’t appear to recognize the name of Lukas’s school.
“It’s a boarding school at the top of the hill. You have to take the incline to get there.”
“You go to a boarding school?”
“Yeah, I do.” Lukas instantly realized how bizarre his transformation must appear to Pole, who hadn’t seen him since he was a boy in a gritty steel town six—maybe seven—years earlier. Judging by his appearance, Lukas guessed Pole’s circumstances hadn’t changed much. His dirty, callused hands and sturdy arms indicated he performed manual work of some kind.
“Pole, I found a really nice pair of shoes. Can I get them?” A pretty redhead with bright blue eyes approached Pole, carrying a pair of black dress shoes.
“Who’s that?” Lukas wanted to know.
“This is my sister, Lily,” Pole said, smiling.
Lukas faintly remembered that Pole had a sister. What was the story? He knew Pole had left Riverton around the time of his accident—the same time his mother had disappeared. Lukas winced at the thought. He couldn’t think about that time in his life. Revisiting the past was something he rarely allowed himself to do.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lily. My name is Lukas. I’m an old friend of your brother’s. And this is my friend Frankie,” he said as he motioned to the dumb-founded person sitting next to him. Lukas had completely forgotten he was there.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” the girl said nervously.
“Lily, take those shoes up to the counter and then come back for some ice cream,” Pole said. “May
be Frankie can tell you all about Johnstown while I catch up with Lukas.”
When Lily had finally settled in at the counter next to Frankie with a hot fudge sundae, Pole sat down next to Lukas. He patted him playfully on the back. “I can’t believe I’m sittin’ next to you. I never thought I’d see you again. How’s your family? How’s Sofie?”
“She’s fine. She’s a senior in high school. She wants to work for the local newspaper after she graduates next spring.”
“Really?”
“She’s going to be a writer. She already writes for the Beaver Creek Dispatch.”
“Is that the name of the town where you live?”
“Yeah. Beaver Creek. It’s about forty miles northeast of Pittsburgh. On the Allegheny River.”
Pole nodded. “And how are your parents and your aunt?”
“My father is part-owner of a grocery store, and my aunt takes care of a few boarders. Our house in Beaver Creek is much bigger than the one we had in Riverton.”
“And your mother?”
Lukas hesitated. Whenever people asked about his mother, they immediately regretted it. Revealing that his mother had mysteriously disappeared always led to the same reaction. Shock was usually followed by an awkward silence, a curt apology, and a rush to change the subject. Lukas wondered how Pole would react to the news. He was the only person he’d encountered in years who had actually known his mother.
“She disappeared in June of 1910. The same day this happened.” Lukas lifted up his right pant leg and waited for a reaction.
Pole was speechless for almost a minute. He then stroked his chin as if trying to work out a riddle. Finally, he spoke. “Christ, Lukas. If I didn’t have my sister with me, I’d take you out for a beer. And I thought I’d had my share of misery.”
“What happened to you?” Lukas leaned closer.
“I lost my pop in a mining accident that same summer. I’ve been stuck mining coal in a patch village outside Portage for the past seven years. With my pop dead, I had to provide for my sister and her mother.”
Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash Page 21
