Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash Page 4

  “What’s wrong?” Pole asked, trying to speak clearly so the immigrant could understand.

  “Accident at mill. Tomas Tomicek die.”

  Pole gasped. Injury and death were a fact of life at the mill, but he was deeply affected by this news. He’d considered Tomas Tomicek a good friend. He had lost at cards to him and his brother, Pavol, more times than he could count. Fighting back tears, Pole whispered, “What happened?”

  “He burned. Very bad.” Sef stared at his whiskey momentarily before lifting the glass and downing the remainder of the clear liquid in one quick gulp. He faced Pole with an intent look in his red, watery eyes. He spoke slowly, struggling to find the words in English. “Don’t end up in mill. It kill you. You die quick and ugly like Tomicek boy, or you die like rest of us … slow.” Sef shook his head. “Not sure who got it worse.” A tear fell down his dirty, pockmarked cheek as he got up and went into the house to refill his moonshine.

  Mrs. Janosik suddenly appeared, carrying a plate of food. As if sensing Pole’s need for comfort, she put her arm around his waist. She had grown rather fond of him in the past couple of years and tried to mother him when she had spare time, which wasn’t often. And she always did her best to speak English for Pole.

  “Sit on steps. I have dinner for you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Janosik.”

  “You hear about accident?”

  “A little. Sef told me Tomas was burned real bad. Didn’t seem like he wanted to say more. He’s pretty upset.”

  “Áno. Everyone is. Janos Kovac bring Pavol back to house after accident. He tell me something go wrong with crane. It drop pot of hot steel near Tomas. He die quick. Vd’aka Bohu.”

  “How is Pavol?”

  “He pass out drunk in bed. Best place for him now.”

  Mrs. Janosik sniffled and then wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress. She was a hard-looking woman with a weathered face full of wrinkles and a round figure. Pole supposed running a boarding house full of drunken immigrants for the last fifteen years was to blame.

  “Tomicek boys were twins. You know?” Mrs. Janosik asked while watching Pole devour his plate of halušky.

  “Yeah. Pavol told me his mother died givin’ birth to them,” Pole said, brushing a noodle off his chin. “Their father died a few years ago. That’s why they came to America. They had no one left in the old country.”

  “Now Pavol is all alone. It so sad. And now he must tell Tomas bride.”

  “Tomas isn’t married,” Pole said.

  “His sweetheart is on ship to America. She suppose to marry Tomas next week.”

  Pole stopped chewing his halušky. He bowed his head, overcome by the unfairness of the world in which he lived. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

  Seven

  JANOS

  RIVERTON, MAY 27, 1910

  Janos had never been so thankful to stand in front of his modest little house with the clapboard siding weathered in various shades of gray. He looked up at the lonely window above the front porch, noticing the little fingerprints and smudges covering the bottom half of the glass. The evening sun was unkind and illuminated all the house’s imperfections. Janos smiled. In this humble structure were the people responsible for those little prints—the people he loved most in this world. He wondered whether they were in that upstairs bedroom at that very moment playing marbles or jacks.

  Overwhelmed by the need to see his family, Janos climbed the two steps on the front porch in one stride and burst through the door. He immediately caught the scent of frying fish wafting from the back of the house. He hurried through the narrow sitting room and into the kitchen where he found Sofie and his older sister, Anna, busy at the cookstove. As soon as he saw his little girl, Janos scooped her up in his arms.

  “We’re so glad you’re home, Papa,” Sofie whispered into her father’s ear.

  “Me, too,” he said, gasping for air. Sofie’s arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck, he could barely breathe. “I guess you heard about the accident,” he said, placing his daughter back on her feet, noting her worried expression.

  “Marie’s father stopped by on his way home. He said the accident happened at your furnace.”

  “It did. It was the worst I’ve seen. Tomas was standing far from the crane. Anyone would have thought him safe in that spot.” Janos sighed as he sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands. He immediately feared he’d said too much. Maybe he had given Sofie yet another reason to be anxious about the mill.

  “We poured you some whiskey,” Anna said, gesturing to the glass of clear liquid on the table. “It doesn’t seem to get any better with time, does it? Ten years … and the mill isn’t any safer.”

  Sofie gave her father a confused look.

  “It’s been ten years since your uncle died,” he whispered to her.

  Sofie nodded somberly.

  Anna suddenly put down her metal spatula and left the front of the wood-fired cookstove. She took a seat at the kitchen table, one eye still focused on the fish frying in the pan. Janos was surprised by the move, as his sister rarely ventured far from her cookstove. She often leaned against it with a newspaper or novel even when she wasn’t cooking. Janos suspected the day’s tragic events were stirring up painful memories.

  “I always thought Stefan would be safe in the rail yard, far away from the furnaces. I never imagined …” Anna said, casting her gaze downward and picking a crumb out of a deep crack in the table’s surface.

  Janos studied his sister’s face. With her dull brown hair, green eyes, and tall, thin frame, she could have been his twin. And though twelve years his senior, she shared his temperament, too. She was thoughtful and emotional, a combination of traits that often compelled her to reexamine old wounds.

  “What happened?” Sofie asked as she sat down in the empty chair next to her aunt. “I never heard the whole story.”

  “You were too young,” Janos replied.

  “Well, I’m not anymore.”

  Janos could not deny that Sofie was a mature ten-year-old, but the details of his brother-in-law’s tragic death would only give her more nightmares. “It’s already been an emotional day. Another time,” he said, patting Sofie’s hand.

  “Remember how odd the weather was the day Stefan died,” Anna said, as if to herself. “It was so cold and rainy for late October. And that wind …”

  A chill went down Janos’s spine. Anna was going to recount that horrific day, despite his protests. He had hoped to spare Sofie the details of Stefan’s death, but knew his sister’s demons would not go away until she confronted them. Janos reached for her hand.

  “Did he die in a storm?” Sofie asked innocently.

  “No, sweetheart—though I’ve always believed the weather was a factor. Stefan was crushed by a load of steel pipe. As he was passing by a railcar, the bottom of the load shifted, and the whole pile gave way.” Anna closed her eyes.

  Janos squeezed his sister’s hand as tears streamed down her face.

  Sofie pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and offered it to her aunt. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Anna.”

  “The men who dug Stefan out told me he didn’t suffer. There were several tons of pipe on that railcar. He was probably killed instantly,” Anna said, wiping at her eyes.

  “Your mother and I came to Riverton as soon as we received word of your uncle’s death,” Janos told Sofie. “We were newly married and planning a move to America, but once we learned of Stefan’s passing, we hastened our plans. Anna and her boys needed us.”

  “What a terrible accident,” Sofie whispered.

  Anna winced.

  “Sofie, your aunt doesn’t like that word. She believes her husband’s death was the result of negligence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your aunt and I—as well as many others at the mill—believe that the load of pipe wasn’t properly secured. The men loading the railcar that day were probably in a hurry due to the wind and rain
. They may have forgotten to tie a portion of the load down.”

  “Or just decided not to do it,” Anna snapped. “If the union had still been around, there might have inspections.”

  “Sofie, take the fish off the stove before it burns. Put it on some plates with the potatoes,” Janos said, trying to change the subject.

  “I know talk of the union makes you uncomfortable, but there are no company spies hiding under the bed,” Anna said, glaring at her brother. “Maybe it’s time for the workers to try organizing again.”

  “And get fired? Or worse?” Janos asked. Since the Homestead strike of 1892 when nine steelworkers were killed, few dared mention the word “union.” A visit from the steel company’s thugs never ended well.

  Suddenly, the front door opened, and Lukas blasted into the room. “I found Mama at the bakery. She bought a cake!” he squealed with delight.

  Karina walked through the door, carrying a pink box wrapped with a white ribbon. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders in curls. Janos thought it odd, as she normally wore her hair pulled back at work. But he couldn’t deny that she looked lovely.

  “I guess the lunch with the mill executives went well,” he said.

  “Not exactly. Mr. Archer didn’t get the promotion he was expecting.” Karina frowned. “The cake is for you, Janos. I heard you had a rough day.”

  “A bit extravagant, don’t you think?” Anna chided. “That’s not exactly the kind of comfort your husband needs.”

  Janos felt the tension in the room grow thick. He resented the fact that he always had to play peacekeeper with his wife and sister, but it was a role he had grown accustomed to. In fact, he excelled at it these days, most likely due to the frequency with which he was forced to intervene.

  “At least you won’t need to do any baking tomorrow, Anna. Maybe you could use the extra time to stop by the library and get a new novel,” Janos said as he got up from the table and took the cake from his wife. “Thank you, Karina. That was very thoughtful.”

  Much to his surprise, Karina pulled Janos’s face to hers and kissed him on the lips. It had been so long since she’d shown him any warmth or tenderness, he did not know how to react. He took the cake over to the stove and lingered there for a moment, hoping his flushed face would soon calm down.

  “Mama, sit by me,” Lukas pleaded.

  “Of course, honey,” Karina said, rubbing her son’s back.

  Janos returned to his chair as Sofie passed out plates of fish and potatoes. She gave her father a puzzled look as she placed his dinner in front of him. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Who was this thoughtful, affectionate person who had replaced his wife?

  Normally, if Karina made it home in time to eat dinner with her family, she was too consumed with her own troubles to ask about anyone else’s. And she certainly didn’t show any affection. The only exception was the perfunctory kiss she gave to each of her children on her way to bed immediately following dinner. The rest of the family spent their evenings around the kitchen table playing word games or reading children’s books and Bible stories. Karina slept above them, oblivious to all the joy she was missing below.

  “You look very pretty today,” Karina told Sofie as she joined the others at the table. “You’re getting so tall. We should go shopping tomorrow for some new dresses.”

  “But Aunt Anna always takes me shopping.”

  “Maybe it’s time you and I go together.” Karina smiled sweetly.

  Janos looked around the table, studying his family as they ate burnt fish and potatoes. The day had been unspeakably awful and had stirred in him serious concerns about his safety at the mill. However, at the moment, he was more concerned about the unexpected change in his wife’s behavior.

  Eight

  KARINA

  RIVERTON, MAY 27, 1910

  Karina gazed at Janos as he returned a collection of children’s stories to the bookcase that stood along the wall in the sitting room. She had forgotten how attractive he was. Working at the mill for over a decade had grayed his hair only slightly, and his body was still in good shape. His skin looked young and healthy, unlike so many of the mill’s men who had leathery complexions. Heavy drinking and long hours in front of a blazing furnace were the likely culprits, but her husband wasn’t suffering the same fate. Janos only drank during the most stressful of times, today being one of them.

  Karina took another sip of whiskey in an attempt to drown her feelings. Since her humiliation at the home of her employer, she had been suffering alternating fits of guilt and rage. She had bent to Henry’s will yet again and surrendered her dignity in order to avoid returning to the boarding house. She’d convinced herself that tolerating his advances was more bearable than cleaning up after the filthy drunks who used to grope her. The fact that Karina’s life was a series of unfair tradeoffs made her want to scream.

  Her indecent arrangement with Henry had been tormenting her conscience for months, but she had experienced a frightening new level of shame that morning. She had pleasured Henry in the hopes that he would take her far away from Riverton—and her family. Karina tasted bile in her throat. Her latest betrayal of her husband was indefensible. She downed the remainder of her whiskey in one gulp.

  “The children were so happy you stayed up to read with them,” Janos said, returning to the table and refilling her empty glass.

  “We had a lovely evening, didn’t we?” She grasped the drink with both hands.

  He nodded. “Tonight, I saw more of the woman I married so long ago. I’m grateful, but I wonder what has changed.”

  Karina bit her lip. Was the guilt written all over her face? She rushed to find a response. “I suppose it was the accident at the mill. You could’ve died today. It made me realize I’ve been taking you and our family for granted.” Karina was surprised by the sincerity of her words. She had made an unusual effort to spend time with her family that evening, and now she was left battling pangs of regret. She rarely showed her children or husband the affection they deserved.

  “I hope that’s true,” Janos said, touching Karina’s arm. “I know you feel cheated. Working in that house of Mr. Archer’s is a cruel reminder of the things we don’t have.”

  It certainly is, Karina thought. It was no wonder she had been intrigued by Henry’s talk of life among New York City’s social elite. All she ever did was fantasize about a life outside Riverton. Whether admiring the fashions in Vogue magazine—which she purchased with Henry’s grocery money—or strolling through Riverton Heights at dusk to peek into the windows of the mansions, Karina constantly wished for a more glamorous life. Try as she might, she could not stifle the longing Henry had stirred within her when he’d offered her a chance to go to New York. It was that powerful yearning that had compelled her to crawl back into his bed. But could she leave her family behind?

  “Karina, are you all right?” Janos interrupted her deliberating. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Sorry.” She tried to focus on her husband’s face.

  “You are blessed in more important ways. You have the love of two healthy children and a devoted husband. Life’s most precious gifts are the things you cannot see.” Janos’s face turned sullen. “You often forget that.”

  Karina felt a twinge of anger. Janos doubted her newfound appreciation of her family. He expected her to resume her complaining at any moment, and she could not blame him. She had a history of wild mood swings, and Janos was all too familiar with her vicious cycle. She’d lost all credibility with him. She looked into his bright green eyes and saw pity. Maybe even condescension.

  Feeling brave from the whiskey, she blurted, “Do you still love me, Janos? I know you’d never leave me—you’re so dutiful and righteous. But I wonder if you’d be happier without me.”

  “What kind of question is that?” he snapped.

  “A simple one. I feel like an outsider in this house—like I don’t belong.”

  “Maybe it’s because you make so little effort
to connect with your children. You’re always avoiding them. Never mind your aversion to me.” Janos looked away.

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Is it? You’re too consumed with your own suffering to notice anyone around you.”

  Karina exploded. “Why is it so wrong to want things? Why is it selfish to want a house with electricity? And a bath tub?” Her eyes bored into her husband’s. “Aren’t you tired of working so hard and having little to show for it?”

  Janos’s face softened. “Of course, I am. I never imagined things would be so difficult here. I wish I didn’t have to work in a steel mill, but I’ve made peace with it. I’ve learned to accept the things I cannot change.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “I focus on what brings me joy … the love of family and friends, my faith.”

  Karina envied her husband. She wished she could find the peace he had. Maybe it was his faith or the inexplicable bond he shared with his children, but she knew she didn’t have his rare gift of finding light in the darkest of places.

  “That’s the difference between you and me. I can’t calm the anger boiling inside me. I can’t accept the unfairness in this country.” Karina crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter how long or how hard we work.” She began to cry.

  Karina suddenly felt Janos’s strong arms around her. His touch was warm and comforting. He planted soft kisses on top of her head and whispered softly, “I still love you, Karina. I do. But we can’t go on like this.” He stroked her hair. “Forget what you thought your life was going to be. Forget about all the things you think you’ve been denied. See the gifts that are right here under this roof.”

  Karina looked up at Janos. He smiled at her as he brushed a curl away from her face. His dimples were showing. In that moment, she remembered why she’d fallen in love with him over a decade ago. He was such a good man.