Eastland (14 page)

“Mama, I’m home!” I shook out my wet umbrella on the porch
before dropping it into the stand inside our front door. Half-day
Saturday was over. I was ready for my Saturday night. I wanted to
twirl through the parlor singing, but I knew I had to contain my
excitement. Mama didn’t know anything about my ballet plans.

In fact, Mama knew nothing about Lars—period.
I breezed into the kitchen, where I was greeted by the lovely
sizzle of something frying. Mama stood at the range, mastering
two skillets at once. I kissed her on the cheek.
“Potatoes and eggs.
Mmmmm
.” A half day of work meant no
lunch. I was ravenous.
“It is all done?
Oui
?” Mama’s expression was laced with concern.
“Yes. The last person has been hired.”
I plopped into a chair. Silverware, napkins, and two glasses
of milk had been set out on the table. I snatched up my fork, my
mouth watering in anticipation.
“Glad that whole nightmare is behind me. I couldn’t bear one
more
Eastland
story.” I shuddered, remembering everything I’d
heard over the past three days.
Mama set a plate in front of me. I sniffed at the egg sandwich
and fried potatoes and dove in.
She laughed. “Easy,
chérie
.” She made herself a plate and sat
across from me.
I took two more forkfuls of potatoes and then wiped my
mouth. “Remember how I tore my sleeve on Thursday?”
Mama chewed as she nodded.
“Well, it wasn’t exactly an accident like I’d told you.”
I gave her a shiny version of events, starting with all the
hopeful people at the gates looking for jobs and ending with
Mrs. Volo and my job offer.
“The ripping woman was the Mama of Johnny Volo? Mae’s
friend?”
“Can you believe it?”
“I believe.” Mama gave a firm nod. “There are miracles all
around us.”
“I have more to tell you.”
Mama set down her fork, folded her hands, and placed them
in her lap.
I gulped and plunged ahead, opening with the bit about me
near the edge of the hull. I ended with the punch line, “And he
asked me to attend a benefit with him. You know, to raise money
for the poor, surviving families. It sounded like something you’d
want me to do. So, I said I’d go.”
I paused to gauge her reaction. Mama brought her folded
hands up to the table. Her fingers were clenched so tightly together that the tips had turned red from the rush of blood.
“All week you kept this from me?”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Mama unclenched her hands, the blood-red color in her
fingertips draining back to a more natural skin tone. “This boy.
This mariner. He was the one in front of Mae’s house the other
night?”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
“A handsome young man talks to my daughter and I do not
see?
Paaa!
So, what is his name?”
“Lars Nielsen. He’s a first assistant engineer.” I paused. “At
least he was. But I’m sure he’ll find another job soon.”
Mama smiled—for a flash of a second—and then abruptly
banged the table.
“Lars Nee-el-son.” She pronounced his last name with slow,
steady emphasis. “It has a good sound to it. I want to meet him.”
“You will! You can! If you let me go to the benefit with him.”
She stood and pushed in her chair. She walked to the counter
next to the icebox, turned to face me, and leaned back against
the butcher block.
“When is this benefit?”
“This evening. At Midway Gardens in Chicago. It’s going to
be a ballet! I’ve never been to one before. Oh, please, Mama, I
want to go. The benefit is a good thing. Right?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stood there, staring at the
hardwood floor and tapping her fingers against the counter.
I waited anxiously, her tap tap tapping stretching from painful seconds into a torturous minute.
She’d let me go, wouldn’t she? She had to. I had no way of
contacting Lars. I glanced down at my watch. It was twelveforty-five. No matter her decision, Lars would be here in about
four hours to pick me up. The tapping stopped. My head shot up.
“This was sure to happen.” Mama shook her head and sighed.
“Mother Nature has her way. That was why I had to take in your
dress.”
What was she talking about? What did Mother Nature have
to do with Lars?
“You are a beautiful, young woman. The boys will notice.”
Mama let out another sigh. “I was about the same age as you,
when Papa first noticed me.”
I knew by heart the tale of how my parents had met, but I
never tired of hearing it. Or reciting it.
“You were eighteen, working in
Grandpère’s
tailor shop in
Le Mans, France. A young man about your age came in with
torn trousers. He chatted with you a bit and then returned two
days later to pick up his trousers. This time he had a shirt with
a frayed cuff. You two talked some more. When he came back to
pick up his shirt, he had a jacket. Every button was missing. He
said he couldn’t imagine how they had all fallen off at the same
time. You laughed and sewed new buttons on his coat for free.
He bought you dinner in return. You married three months later
and moved to Chicago so Papa could work with his uncle.”
My parents might have been young, but they had a marriage
that lasted ’til death had parted them. I hoped to be that lucky.
Someday.
“Wish Papa had lived to see you grow.” Mama sounded a lot
like she had on the evening of the wakes.
“When you took in my dress! You made my new mourning
dress to fit my new figure. Mother Nature at work. I get it! I understand now.” But she still hadn’t given me an answer. “Please,
Mama, may I go to the ballet tonight?”
“This Lars Nee-el-son will come to the house to collect you?”
“Of course. The benefit starts at seven. He said to be ready
around five o’clock.”
Mama kissed me on the nose. “Another miracle. You were
saved two times. I am twice blest. So. What will you wear to the
ballet?”
I huggedher and then flew down the hallway to my bedroom,
dragging Mama along for the ride.
“You sit.” I deposited her on my pink bedspread. “And I’ll give
you a show. We can decide on a dress together.” I flung open the
two doors of my wardrobe and rifled through the hangers. “How
about this one?” I held a peach-colored day dress against me.
“Peach is good on you.” Mama tilted her head and studied
me. “Makes you look so fair.”
Washed out was probably more like it. Porcelain pale skin
may have been the choice of her generation, but I preferred a
little rouge. I hung up the dress.
“What do you think of this?” I took the steely-blue dress
I’d made for the picnic and pressed it against my waist. I spun
around, watching the tassels sail.
“Lars saw that one?
Non
?”
Yes. Lars had indeed seen me in this dress. I stopping twirling and put it back.
“Maybe that one.” Mama pointed to something in my closet.
“Oh, no! Absolutely not! I’m not wearing a black mourning
dress.”
“I could add some ribbon.” She hopped up, looking excited.
“Red, maybe pink.”
“No! I refuse to wear it. I know you worked hard on it, Mama,
but you have to understand. That dress holds too many bad
memories. If it were truly up to me, I’d burn it.” She let out a
startled gasp. “I would never do that,” I added quickly.
Mama peered into my wardrobe, sifting through hanger after
hanger. I flopped onto my bed. The springs squeaked in protest.
“Someone needs new clothes. I had better get busy.”
“I’d love some new dresses. Thank you, Mama. But what am
I going to wear today?”
She pulled out the dress on the very last hanger. “Take out
here.” She examined the darts across the chest. “Nip in here.”
She plucked at the waistband.
The dress she’d chosen was blue. The color wasn’t a dusty,
steel-blue like my picnic outfit or a stunning, green-blue like
Lars’s turquoise eyes. It was more a pretty, robin’s egg-blue.
Standing next to Lars in that spring-colored dress with a few
alterations … I sat up.
“Please, Mama. Could you hem it? Make it midcalf?”
“This is the fashion?”
I nodded. “All the rage.”
“I must get to work.” She folded the blue dress over her arm.
“My little girl must be modern.”
“I’d love that! But I never thought you’d agree to shorter
dresses.”
“I can be modern, too.” She gave me another “
Paaa!
” and
marched out the door.
I stood, bewildered and surprised. My old-world mother, a
modern woman?
Miracles. All around us. And I’d just witnessed one.

On Saturday evening Lars had called for me at the house, as
Mama had wanted. He and I took the trolley into the city and
then transferred to the State Street line for a long ride south
to Sixtieth Street. We caught a third streetcar heading east
toward Washington Park and what used to be the Midway
Plaisance during the 1893 World Fair and Columbian
Exposition. The streetcar rides had been sticky-warm and
bumpy, but I didn’t care. I was having a lovely time just
sitting beside Lars.

“Did you know,” he said, sounding serious, “that if we kept
going east, we’d get wet?”
I stared at him, confused.
“We’d drive straight into Lake Michigan.” He tickled me in
the side, laughing at his own feeble joke.
“Hardy har har. Very funny.” I stared out the window. “I
never want to go near that lake again. No swimming and absolutely no boating.”
Lars stopped chuckling. “Can’t let fear win. I refuse to let it
ruin my life.”
I turned to look at him. “You’d go out on the
Eastland
again
if you could?”
“Not the
Eastland
, no. They’ll right her, but she’ll never be
the same.” A shadow passed over his face. He frowned as though
he might be missing that ship. “I signed onto the crew of the
Christopher Columbus
. Start on Monday.”
“You mean you still want to be a Merchant Marine after all
that’s happened this week?”
“I don’t
want
to be a mariner. I
am
a mariner. I was born on
Lake Michigan.”
“What? How?” I knew how; I meant, “What?”
“Dad was chief engineer on the
St. Joe
, making a daily between
Chicago and Benton Harbor, Michigan. Mom often went along on
the runs. She loved the water. She wished she’d been born a man,
so she could work on the Great Lakes.” Lars paused and shook
his head. “Mom probably should have stayed home those last few
weeks of her term, but she was a stubborn one. Plus, Dad didn’t
want to leave her alone. So on the morning of September 1, 1897,
she got a cabin on the
St
.
Joe
, and well, the rest is history.” Lars
crossed his heart with his thumb. “All true. I swear.”
“Unbelievable.”
I knew Lars didn’t seem the kind to lie, but he did say one
thing that caught my attention. If he’d been born in 1897, then
come this September, he’d turn eighteen. Same age as Karel.
Same age as Papa when he’d met Mama.
“So this Merchant Marine stuff is in your blood? But your job
is dangerous.”
“All jobs are potentially dangerous.”
“Not all.” Like chocolate inspector—for example.
Lars studied me for a moment. “So, Karel has some cushy job?”
“Yes. No.” I exhaled. “Well, it’s safer than yours.”
“Probably. And a lot cleaner, too. And I’m sure Mr. Cushy
doesn’t need any of these where he works.” Lars crooked his
right arm and made a fist. His bicep muscle bulged.
My jaw went slack. I pretended to cough as I closed my
mouth.
“Right. Just what I thought.” Lars laughed and put down his
arm, as the streetcar came to a halt.
The driver opened the doors. “Cottage Grove Avenue.
Washington Park and Midway Gardens.”
Lars grabbed his umbrella from under the seat and stood.
“After you.”
I followed the other passengers out the door and onto the
sidewalk, and stopped dead in my tracks.
Midway Gardens sprawled out before us like a medieval fortress but with a strange, geometric twist. The massive entertainment arena was long and angular, constructed almost entirely
in straight lines, squares, and rectangles. Now I understood why
Dolly liked to come dancing here. Midway Gardens was the most
unusual building I’d ever seen.
“Something, isn’t it?” Lars stepped down beside me.
“Chicago’s first indoor and outdoor pleasure garden.”
We followed the droves streaming along the yellow-brick
exterior toward the public entrance where two slender, female
statues stood guard. With their heads bent and their hands folded
across their chests, the statues seemed to be welcoming us with
their serene gazes. Beyond the public entrance, toward the center
of this block-long building, were two rectangular turrets that
towered several stories high. Cement planks jutted out the fronts
and backs of each turret like multi-layered diving boards.
“See those statues?” Lars pointed to the two serene ladies above
the public entrance.“Frank Lloyd Wright nicknamed them Spindles.”
“Frank Lloyd who?” I asked, as we trailed along with crowd.
“Wright, the local architect who designed this place.”
“He must have some wild imagination.”
We passed quickly through a public tavern to the indoor
garden and dining room. Again, I had to pause to take it all in.
The dining room was square-shaped with a wooden dance
floor in the center and terraced balconies around all four sides.
Tables covered in fine linen and gleaming silverware were arranged across the balconies. Waiters scurried up and down and
all about with heavy trays of food. I inhaled deeply, intrigued as
much by the delicious aromas as I was by the garden’s design.
“Ready?” Lars offered me his arm. We crossed the length of
the dance floor to the outdoor garden. This time, Lars paused. “I
heard about this place, but seeing it firsthand. Well, there’s only
one word to describe it.”
“Breathtaking.”
Hundreds of people mingled about this open-air arena
enclosed on three sides by covered dining terraces. A sheltered
stage took up the entire back wall.
“Couldn’t afford a table, Dee. Hope you don’t mind sitting in
the gallery around the stage?”
He was leading me past table after table of outdoor diners
toward a semi-circle of folding chairs when someone called my
name. I froze, jerking Lars to a stop. He turned.
“What’s the matter, De—Well, speak of the devil.”
I dropped Lars’s hand as Karel stepped toward us.
“Fancy meeting you two here,” he said.
Lars sneered. “Fancy’s not exactly the word I’d use.”
“Karel, why didn’t you tell me that you might be coming
tonight?”
“Yeah, why?” echoed Lars.
“Spur of the moment thing. I remembered you two talking
last week about some ballet benefit. Thought I should look into
it. Maybe do something in Mae’s honor.” Karel gestured to the
table behind him. “So I reserved a table for ten and invited some
friends. Just so happens that I have one empty place setting.
Care to join me, Dee?”
I stared at him. Speechless.
“Dee thanks you for the generous invitation,” Lars said. “But
we already have our places reserved for tonight.”
“Great.” Karel glanced around. “So, where’s your table? Not
too far off to the side, I hope. Might be hard to see the stage.”
“As it so happens,Lars and I are sitting right up front.We have
an unobstructed view of the stage. Thank you for your concern.”
“You mean those folding chairs?” Karel snickered. “The
cheap seats?”
I snatched up Lars’s hand. “Enjoy the show.” I marched
away, tugging Lars after me.
I didn’t stop until I reached the usher. Lars showed him the
tickets. He handed us some programs.
“Who cares about a table when you have seats like these?”
I plunked down in the second row. “And look!” I extended my
arm. “I can almost touch the stage.”
Lars shrugged and tucked his umbrella under his folding
chair. “You’re really not disappointed we don’t have a table? I
wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to sit with him.”
“You really wouldn’t mind?”
Lars exhaled. “Of course, I would! I don’t want you to go
anywhere. You’re with me tonight!”
“That’s more like it.” I leaned back, pressing my shoulder
against his and studied my program.
At a dollar-fifty each, these seats were still expensive, at least
for an assistant engineer. That was probably a whole day’s wages
for Lars. But what about the table Karel had purchased? Bet that
cost a pretty penny. I knew he did it just to disrupt my evening
with Lars. But still. All the money he’d donated to the benefit
and in Mae’s name? That was really sweet.
But so was Lars.For suggesting this whole thing in the first place.
I looked up at him. “You are truly—”
“Remarkable?”
“I know my mother thought so.”
Mama had seemed genuinely surprised this afternoon by the
sight of Lars in his crisp white uniform. I wasn’t sure what she
had expected, but when he’d presented her with a bouquet of
daisies, she’d gasped.
“Sank you for saving my little girl.” She seized his hand. “You
have saved my life, too.”
Lars blushed. “No need to thank me, Mrs. Pageau. I couldn’t
let Delia drown.”
“No! No drowning.” Mama pulled him by the hand into the
parlor and offered him a seat on the sofa. “So, you are taking
Delia to the ballet?”
Lars had given Mama a detailed description of our evening,
complete with performance times and streetcar schedules.
“You won Mama over today with those flowers.”
“Guess so.” Lars shrugged. “Only wish you had liked your
bouquet as much.”
“What? I loved the violets.” I placed my hand on his upper
arm to reassure him. My breath caught. That bicep I’d seen
earlier was even more impressive to touch. I fanned myself with
my program.
“I saw you recoil when I handed you those flowers.”
“No! You have to believe me, Lars. It wasn’t the flowers. It
was their color.”
He stared at me for a moment and then his mouth fell open.
“Purple!” He hit himself on the forehead. “How could I be so
stupid?”
“You’re no such thing! You were very thoughtful. I flinched
because, well, because, I did. It’s some kind of response to
that color. Maybe my whole life now, I’ll cringe whenever I see
something purple.” I gazed into his big, sweet face. “I adore
violets. Especially when they come from you.”
“Well, next time, I’ll bring you flowers in your favorite color.
Which is?” He stared at me, waiting for a response, but all I
could think about was that there was going to be a “next time.”
I cleared my throat. “Green. But it’s hard to find green
flowers.”
“Let me worry about that.” He flashed me a mischievous
smile. “You worry about the ballet.”
“Right.” I opened my program. Tonight’s entertainment featured the Russian prima ballerina, Mademoiselle Anna Pavlova,
and her troupe, accompanied by the National Symphony
Orchestra.
“Pavlova is known the world over for her dance of ‘The Dying
Swan,’” Lars explained.
“How do you know that?”
“I read.”
I had to smile. “You’re always full of surprises.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
I imagined a life with this mariner. We could rent a cozy,
little apartment in the city. Near a trolley line, of course, so I
could visit Mama, and she could come see us. Money might be
tight, but I could always stay on at Western Electric. Maybe
I’d take dance lessons like Mae. Lars and I could come back to
Midway Gardens. Run into Karel.
“What? Are you all right, Dee?”
“I’m fine.” Just confused and fickle-hearted.
Something plunked onto my program. I glanced down at
the wet spot on the page before looking up. A raindrop splattered onto the bridge of my nose. A split second later, the skies
cracked opened.
Women shrieked as rain poured down. Chairs scraped across
concrete and thwacked against tables. Patrons raced for the
shelter of the covered terraces or the exit to the indoor garden.
Lars whipped open his umbrella. I squished against him.
“Told you one umbrella was a good idea,” he said.
When Lars had suggested I leave my umbrella on the front
porch, I had hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” he’d said when he’d come to pick me up. “If it
does rain, we can share.”
I had tossed my umbrella aside without another thought.
“We can’t catch a break from this rain.” Lars tilted the umbrella over my head. “Looks like our luck’s run out.”
Luck was a matter of perspective. Right now, nestled against
his broad chest, I felt pretty darn lucky. I squeezed in even
tighter and looked up. Lars gazed down. Our lips seemed to be
pulling in toward each other’s as though we’d been magnetized.
A delicious tingle shot through me. I was about to get my second kiss. I worried for one fleeting second about Lars’s strength
and then his lips were on mine. My apprehension evaporated.
His kiss was tender and hesitant and unbelievably luscious. I
pressed into him, fearing now for his safety against the overwhelming force of my desires.
Light flooded the garden.
“What the hell!” Lars whipped around, growling.
Long, vertical poles had been mounted on the outer walls of
the garden. Hundreds of light bulbs had been strung from the
tops to the bottoms of the poles. And now someone had switched
them all on. Blinding light blazed through the stormy darkness.
I wanted to scream.
“Guess we’d better head inside where it’s dry.” He shrugged,
looking disappointed as we started toward the exit.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped. And
with it, my luck.
Lars tipped the umbrella upside down to let the water runoff.
I took an unhappy step back toward my chair.
“You can’t sit on that.” He scowled at our wet seats. “You’ll
ruin your beautiful blue dress.” He studied me. I felt a rush of
heat on my face. He had noticed my dress, as he’d done on the
night of the wake when I’d worn that fitted, black mourning
dress. “Let me get something to dry this.” Lars was looking
around for help, when I picked up my wooden chair and shook it
out. He laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He jiggled his own chair and then sat, leaning my way.
I shifted toward him until our shoulders met. Together, we
watched as excited patrons returned to the garden.
Waiters hustled about, drying tables and chairs, and
removing sloppy plates of wet food. The rows around the
stage filled quickly. The musicians took their places in the
orchestra pit. An awed hush blanketed the garden as the
music swelled.
Then like a feathery, white angel, Mademoiselle Pavlova
pitter-patted onto the stage, balancing effortlessly on her toes.
Her movements seemed unearthly, her long, lithe body bending
and stretching in the most impossible ways. She was a swan—the
most graceful, elegant swan that had ever existed.
I barely blinked as she floated back and forth across the
stage, her slow, flittery movements growing into a ruffled frenzy.
And then she sank to the stage, fluttered her last, and died.
Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Somehow, Anna Pavlova had given death a beauty I thought
could never exist.
Beside me, Lars clapped wildly. “That was really something!”
He turned to me. His smile dropped. “Dee, what’s the matter?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m good.” Better than I’d been
in a week.