Eastland (5 page)

Mae lived only a block and a half away, yet her world had
always seemed miles apart from mine. The Kozneckis were
one of only a handful of Cicero families lucky enough to own
their home. Like Mama and me, most people paid rent, not
mortgages. After years of doling out our hard-earned money to
our landlord, we would have nothing but our furniture to show
for all our efforts.

But the Koznecki family had a stately Victorian home,
peacock-blue, with a full wraparound porch. As schoolgirls, Mae
and I had spent many a summer night sitting on the stoop eating ice cream ’til our tummies hurt. As we grew, we would glide
away rainy afternoons on the porch swing, giggling and singing
and making plans for our lives.

“When I get married,” Mae had said when we were thirteen,
“you can be my maid of honor.”
“And wear green?”
“No, purple.”
“But my favorite color is green.”
She pushed her hands into her hips. “It’s my wedding.”
“But then at my wedding you have to wear green.” I spit on
my palm and held out my slimy hand to her. “Blood brother
swear?”
Mae shook her head. I glared at her.
“Blood sister swear.” She spit into her own palm. “Good for
the next fifty years.”
Mae had sworn to be there. She had sworn!
An unbearable sob threatened to strangle me. I nearly
stumbled off the curb. I was dragging on, fighting to contain my
emotions, when the blue Victorian came into view.
Some eight or nine women stood about the porch and the
steps, their husbands pacing and smoking on the sidewalk below. Mr. and Mrs. Koznecki sat on the porch swing, her head on
his shoulder. Mrs. Koznecki had a card in her hand, and I knew,
from my countless visits to this house, that she had to be holding
a prayer card for one of her favorite saints.
She could be praying to St. Philomena, the patron of children, or maybe in her desperation, Mrs. Koznecki was calling
upon St. Jude, the patron of hopeless causes. But I imagined
that today Mae’s mother was entreating the queen of all the
saints, the Blessed Virgin Mary.
I slowed as my forgotten fatigue washed over me again. What
would I say to Mae’s parents? What could I say? I didn’t know
anything that might bring them some relief and comfort. I was
thinking about running back home, when Mr. Koznecki called
out to me.
“Delia! We’re so happy to see you! We heard you were alive!”
Though his voice sounded strained, he still managed to look
distinguished, with the ends of his handlebar moustache waxed
to gentlemanly perfection.
“Western Electric called to tell us Karel had reported in.”
Mrs. Koznecki lifted her head and stared at me with wet,
puffy eyes. She had thick, auburn hair a few shades darker than
Karel’s cinnamony blond, which she maintained with weekly
visits to the beauty salon. Mrs. Koznecki always looked coiffed
and styled, but not today. Most likely she’d been awakened by
news of the disaster and had dressed in a hurry. She had tried to
pull her hair back in some semblance of a braid, but long, stray
strands had escaped and dangled around her wan face.
I’d never once seen her mussed or unkempt. It pained me to
see her so now.
“I thought you and Mae and Karel all went together this
morning. Then you must know—” She stopped, her bottom lip
quivering with the question she seemed too afraid to ask.
“We left at different times. But we caught up with each other
on the boat.” I trudged up the steps, feeling thicker and heavier
than ever in my life. They slid over, and I sank onto the swing.
Mrs. Koznecki clutched my hand in hers. I glanced down at her
other hand.
She held not one, but three tattered prayer cards.
I swallowed hard. “You’ve already heard about the
Eastland
?
How it capsized at the dock?”
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Koznecki. “We know all that. What about
Mae? Is she alive?”
“Why didn’t Karel leave word of Mae?” Mrs. Koznecki’s eyes
were hazy and unfocused. “We left him to watch over her. What
happened? Where is she?”
As if remembering my presence, Mrs. Koznecki squeezed my
hand so hard my knuckles cracked. Yet the pain didn’t bother
me. On the contrary, the discomfort let me know I could still feel
something in this otherwise numb body.
“Mae stayed below deck, dancing. I went above and found
Karel on the topmost deck. We escaped by climbing over the
railing onto the hull. Your son saved my life. You should have
seen him. So brave, so quick-thinking.” So handsome
.
“But what about Mae?” Mr. Koznecki persisted.
“I don’t know what happened to Mae.”
Mrs. Koznecki shrieked and then swooned back. The prayer
cards slipped through her fingers, hitting the wooden boards
with a soft whoosh.
“My pet, my dearest!” Mr. Koznecki cradled his wife in his
arms. “She’ll be fine. Our Mae’s a scrapper.”
“If anyone could survive,” I said. “It’s Mae. Please don’t
worry. Karel will find her. He promised he wouldn’t come home
without her.”
But no words could console Mrs. Koznecki. She wept uncontrollably now, having cracked under the strain of not knowing.
The women who had been waiting about the porch rushed
to her side, offering support and smelling salts and tears of
their own. Mr. Koznecki got up, motioning for me to follow him
around the side of the wraparound porch.
“You can tell me the truth, Delia.” He’d waited until we were
out of earshot of his wife. “Mae is dead. I know it. I feel it in my
soul.” He pounded his chest with such force I feared he might
crack a rib.
“Please, no! I’ve told you the real story. I don’t know what
happened to Mae. God knows, I wish I did.” I burst into tears,
choking out my words. “Hundreds. Upon hundreds. Survived. I
couldn’t check … them all. We can’t lose … hope.”
“Then why isn’t she here? You made it home some time ago.
If Mae survived, then why hasn’t someone telephoned with
news? Why hasn’t Karel called?”
I had posed those same questions to myself all day. Where
was
Mae? If she were alive, then why hadn’t she been shoved
into a passing car? Or taken a streetcar home?
Mr. Koznecki was right. Mae should have been here by now.
I wiped the streaks of tears from my face and tried to look
optimistic.
“I’m sure Mae’s fine. She probably stayed to search for us like
Karel remained to look for her.”
Mr. Koznecki rolled one end of his handlebar moustache
between his fingers as he thought.
“That could explain their tardiness.”
“Right! And let’s say they found each other by now, but the
lines for the telephones were too long. They were, you know.
Blocks long. Karel and Mae knew they could get home before
they got a turn to call. Or Mae could have been hurt.”
Mr. Koznecki gasped.
“Sorry, sir! I only meant that many passengers were pulled
from the river unconscious. But some were revived,” I added
quickly, “and taken to local hospitals.”
“Yes, yes. Mae could be laid up right now.”
“Any minute, a nurse or Mae herself will get a message to
us.”
“Yes, any minute now.” Mr. Koznecki rolled the end of his
moustache and drifted back around to the front of the house.
I paced along the far side of the porch, turning over all the
hopeful possibilities in my mind until weariness overtook me. I
sank to the boards and leaned back against the house, pressing
my hand to the watch that rested over my heart. Mae held a
piece of that heart, now and always. I closed my eyes, needing to
rest for a moment.
“Delia.” The voice was hesitant and soft.
“Huh? What?” My eyes popped open. I wiped spittle from
the corner of my mouth and looked up.
Mae’s twelve-year-old cousin, Gracie, came around the corner, carrying a tray. She was petite for her age. She looked more
like nine or ten than twelve, and because of her size, Mae had
always babied her. But Gracie was not one to be coddled. She
seemed sensible and mature. I’d always liked her for that.
“Some supper?” Gracie held out the tray to me.
I glanced toward the street. The rain had worsened. The sky
had turned a furious shade of black. I checked my watch. It was
four o’clock.
I staggered to my feet. “What about Mae? Any news?”
Gracie shook her head, her waist-length ringlets swaying and
bouncing.
“Have they heard from Karel?”
“Not yet.” Gracie waved the tray under my nose. “Stew and
biscuits?”
“No thanks. I’m really not—” My stomach interrupted with
a rumble.
“Sounds like you’re hungry to me.” Gracie had just handed
me the tray, when someone let out a frightful squeal. “Oh, no!
Another one!” She ran to the railing. I scampered after her.
Officer Kennelly, one of our local beat cops, approached
the house two doors east. A woman stood on the porch of that
house, shaking her head and wailing.
“No! No! Not my Joey!”
Kennelly climbed the steps, put his arm around the woman,
and escorted her into the house.
“Been going on like that all day,” Gracie said. “You should eat.”
She motioned toward the tray I’d forgotten was in my hands.
I managed a few bites of stew and half of one biscuit. The
food seemed to revive my ebbing spirits and with them, my
hopes. I finished the other half biscuit. I was sopping up the
last of the stew with my second biscuit, when I heard a strange
plinking sound. I set my tray aside and rushed back to the railing in time to see one of the Drojewska boys—the undertaker’s
youngest—roaring down the street on his bicycle.
“Mrs. Mankowiecz! Mrs. Mankowiecz!” The Drojewska boy
rang his bell.
Plink-plink!
Across the street, a heavy-set woman wrapped in a woolen
shawl crept to the edge of her porch
“Oh, no, no, no!” She swayed from side to side as though she
might wither at any moment.
“Both your girls are alive!” the Drojewska boy shouted.
“Western Electric called. They’re on their way home right now!”
Mrs. Mankowiecz shrieked in relief. The neighborhood burst
into joyful whoops.
“If those girls survived …” I smiled at Gracie. “Then Mae
could still be alive.”
She grabbed my hands and whirled me around as another
commotion started up.
“Someone’s coming!” Gracie dropped my hands and stared
out at the street.
“Let it be Mae. It has to be Mae.” I bit my lip watching, waiting, willing.
The people on the sidewalk murmured and then shrank back.
Karel appeared, his crisp, white shirt stained a greasy gray. One
leg of his trousers had been ripped off at the knee, his stocking
garter exposed. He was without his striped blazer, straw boater,
and tie.
And, without Mae.

I didn’t remember how I’d gotten back home from the Kozneckis’
or exactly what I’d told Mama when I’d arrived. I had a foggy
recollection of finding my bedroom and pulling off my rainwet clothes. But now I was shivering myself out of my stupor.
I needed to get warm. I changed into fresh undergarments,
grabbed the first dress I found in my closet, and slipped it on. I
blew on my trembling hands to warm them and then kicked off
my snakeskin shoes.

I was tying my black, ankle-high boots, when I remembered
my new watch, still pinned to my wet dress. I raced back to the
drippy pile of clothes on the floor, removed the watch, and repinned it on my clean, dry dress. Right there and then, I made
a pledge.

I would never go another day without my cherished watch
pinned near my heart.
Somewhat revived in both body and spirit, I scooped up my
everyday purse and hurried down the hall. The beaded bag I’d left
behind this morning was now on the golden oak sideboard in the
dining room. I transferred my comb, latchkey, and pocketbook
from that bag into my everyday, scooped up the umbrella I should
have had with me all along, and headed outside to wait once again
for Karel. But this time we weren’t going on any picnic.
Tonight, we would search for Mae.
When he’d returned home without her, everyone, including
Karel, had feared the worst. He told us he’d rescued two teenage
boys from drowning and then despite exhaustion, had jumped
back into the Chicago River to try and save a mother and baby.
The mother had perished, but Karel had brought the baby to
safety. He’d spent the entire day on or near the
Eastland
but
had never found Mae.
Or her body.
Mae was still out there somewhere, and I was determined to
find her. I would not shed one more tear until I had verifiable,
undeniable proof.
From where I stood on my porch, I could hear the doleful
keening of my grief-stricken neighborhood. In homes up and
down the street, families mourned for their missing or wounded
sons, daughters, parents, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, cousins. The loss of life on this block alone was unimaginable.
Barely six-thirty on a midsummer’s eve, yet oil lamps flickered through every parlor window. There should have been
hours of sunlight left to the day, but this heartless rain had
brought on an early darkness. I needed to talk to Mama again
before Karel arrived, so I popped open my umbrella and walked
three doors down to the VandeKipps’, where Mama was keeping
vigil in front of their darkened house.
Mr. and Mrs. VandeKipp and their four children were missing. As of this hour, none had returned and no one had word
of them, either. Worried neighbor ladies had urged Father
Raczynski from St. Mary’s of Czestochowa to come and lead
them in prayer. With their strands of Rosary beads in hand,
the women recited the familiar prayers in perfect unity. Well,
almost perfect. Mama’s childhood catechism was so entrenched,
she would only say the Rosary in French.
The murmur of those French prayers was like hearing a favorite childhood song again. Memories flooded my mind of happier
times. Sitting on Papa’s lap during Mass. Mama at the range stirring soup, a ladle in one hand, a strand of Rosary beads in the
other. My fifth birthday and my first Rosary, a gift from Papa.
As I approached, Mama stood.
“Ma petite!”
She threw open
her arms.
I dropped my umbrella and wrapped myself around her. I
let my head rest upon her bosom, something I hadn’t done since
Papa’s funeral. We held that embrace for only a few precious
moments, but it was enough to give me strength. I gave her one
last squeeze and managed somehow to let go.
Mama took my hand in hers, the Rosary beads pressing into
my knuckles.
“This will be very hard. You must go,
chérie
?”
“I have to find Mae. But Mama, I never explained what happened this morning. Why I left without telling you.”
“First, our friends.” She glanced at the VandeKipps’ empty
home. “You and I will talk later.”
From down the street, a horse neighed as a hackney cab
pulled up to the curb. The chestnut horse stopped and whinnied
again, bobbing its reddish-brown head as if to say hello. The
driver, Salvatore, the Kozneckis’ favorite, hopped down from his
high perch in the front of his cab.
“Easy now, Lucille.” He rubbed the mare’s nose. Lucille
nuzzled his hand. Salvatore patted her back and opened the
carriage door.
Karel stepped out. “Thank you, Sal.”
Karel had changed out of his torn and river-stained clothes
into a tan sack coat with a chocolate-brown waistcoat vest. His
freshly washed hair was not hidden under a boater, but draped
about his face like a frame. He looked like a masterpiece. I found
myself gasping at the very sight of him.
“Dee! I never got a chance to speak with you. There were so
many people at my house.” He flung out his arms as though he
wanted to hug me but then saw Mama and dropped his hands.
“Mrs. Pageau.” He tipped his head to her. “It’s good—”
She seized him by the shoulder. “How can I sank you for
saving my Delia?” She rose up on her toes, and then in a quite
uncharacteristic gesture for my shy mother, she kissed his forehead. “Your sister …” Mama’s voice cracked. “My sympathies.
For Mama and Papa too.”
“No need for sympathies,” I said. “Mae is fine.”
Salvatore cleared his throat. Mama and Karel both stared at
me.
“She is! And we’ll find her!”
“I pray you’re right, Dee.” Karel turned to look at Mama but
reached back with his hand and gave my fingers a secret squeeze.
“Good evening,
Madame.
”
“Take care.” Mama cried openly now. “Godspeed.” She
kissed both my cheeks, her hot tears singeing my skin. I gave
her one last hug before leaving her to continue her prayer vigil.
I scrutinized Karel. “Are you up to this after all you’ve been
through today?”
“I should be asking you that question.” He touched my arm.
“I want you to come with me, but I’m worried for you. I don’t
know what we’ll find. This may be too much.”
“With you by my side, I know I’ll be fine.”
Karel put his arms out again. I slipped into them. The fit was
perfection.
“Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Salvatore tipped his top hat to
me and opened the carriage door. All too soon, Karel released
me. I sighed as I scooped up my umbrella and climbed inside.
Karel settled himself beside me.
“We’re not taking the streetcars?” As soon as my words hit
the air, I winced. I sounded like such a peasant, but I’d never
ridden in a hackney cab before.
“No more streetcars. Father said we’d been through enough
hell for one day.”
I said a silent “bless you” to Mr. Koznecki for his generosity
as Lucille nickered and trotted away.
This horse and buggy ride wasn’t as smooth as the trip I’d
taken in that stylish black coupe. With each bump and bounce
of the carriage on the muddy streets, I felt the prick of coiled
springs through the worn, red leather seat. The interior was
every bit as muggy as the motorcar’s had been. But our carriage
had one important difference—the dank stink of wet horse.
Karel snuggled closer, and I caught the scent of his ginger
aftershave. Not Brach’s chocolate, but still, dangerously delicious. I inhaled deeply, purging my senses of the horsey smell.
“Where to first, Mr. Karel?” Salvatore asked over his shoulder.
“Iroquois Memorial Hospital on Market Street.” Karel
heaved a sigh. “Wish we were going somewhere else. Anywhere
but there.”
Me too. Anywhere with Karel would be divine, but I had
to check myself. This wasn’t a date. This was a mission. There
would be time for fanciful thoughts later when Mae was home.
“Karel.” I put my hand on top of his. “I never got the chance
to thank you.”
I never had the opportunity to thank anyone properly. The
nurse, the unnamed family who had driven me home, Lars
Nielsen and his turquoise eyes. They’d all been strangers who
had gone out of their way to assist me. I would never see any of
them again.
What was my problem? Why the self-pity when Karel was
here with me now? Time to set things right between us.
“You were there for me today. Without you, I would have
drowned.”
A vision of the redhead in the lacy, yellow frock plummeting
to her death flashed before me. I winced.
“I couldn’t let you die.” He clasped my fingers in his warm
hand. I felt safer than I had all day. “There wasn’t any question.
You were coming over that railing with me.”
“I hope you know I’d do the same for you.”
He smiled. “Of course, I know.”
“Good.” I hesitated, not wanting to ruin this moment, but
something,
someone
, was along on this ride with us. “If only
we’d had the time to get to her.” A sob pressed against my chest.
I started to cry. Karel pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat
pocket and handed it to me.
“What could we have done differently, Dee? It all happened
so fast. You know that. There wasn’t time to get downstairs.” He
shook his head as though he was trying to convince himself as
well as me. “And what if we had made it to the salon? Could we
have even reached her in time? You saw all those people.”
I thought about the dance floor overflowing with passengers.
Mae and Johnny pressed into a corner.
“And what if we had all been together in the salon? We probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. We’d all
be dead.”
“Maybe there was nothing else we could have done.” Except
maybe to have died with her, so she wouldn’t have been alone
and terrified. “It’s only that you and I, well, we had each other.”
“Mae had Johnny. And I’m glad. It brings me comfort to
know she didn’t face that horror on her own.” Karel took my
other hand and pressed them both together in his. “We can only
hope Mae never knew what hit her.”
“You’re talking like she’s already dead!”
“Dee, be reasonable.”
I slid my hands out from under his. “I won’t believe that. Not
without proof. ’Til then, we have to have hope.”
Karel sank back against the seat, looking deflated. “All I
know is that we survived. We’re here, and we have a chance for a
life.” He let out an anguished sigh. “I never appreciated all that I
had. The advantages, the money, a younger sister.” His striking
face twisted with regret.
I ached to make him feel better. But how? What could ease
the agony of this night?
“I was supposed to be watching her today. But she wanted to
dance. I didn’t, so I left her below deck.”
“I abandoned her, too.” To find you. What kind of friend did
something like that?
“You weren’t responsible for her. I was.”
“You thought you left her safe and sound in the salon. How
could you have known what might happen?”
His eyes widened. “Your mother’s premonition! I should
have listened to her. Stayed home with Mae.”
“Mae would never have agreed to that. She had a mind of her
own. We both know that.”
He stared out the cab, nodding. “Mae used to tease me about
being selfish. Who’s going to keep me in line now?”
“Mae will still be around to do the job. You’ll see. We’ll find
her. But it sounds to me like you might be learning how to keep
yourself in check.”
“We’re getting close,” Salvatore announced. I glanced
outside.
The darkening Chicago streets were jammed with traffic,much
as they had been this morning along the dock. Men bicycled in
and around cars. Horse carts loaded with people clomped alongside other hackney cabs for hire. Women and children navigated
the busy sidewalks. Streetcars bulged with passengers, many of
whom packed the steps, both front and back.
“Where’s everyone going?” But in truth, I already knew the
answer. The traffic went only one direction.
Downtown.
“To the riverfront,” said Salvatore, confirming my suspicions.
“To see the
Eastland
.”
“What? Why would any sane person want to see that?”
“The public craves disaster. Don’t understand it myself, but the
more tragic, the more intriguing. And this catastrophe has it all.
Death, destruction, melodrama. What more could people want?”
I couldn’t imagine. For me, the
Eastland
held no fascination
beyond that of finding Mae. I never wanted to set foot on a boat
again.
“I heard from another cabbie there might be as many as half
a million spectators. Coppers sure will have their hands full this
weekend.” Salvatore pulled back on the reins. Lucille slowed.
“We’re about two blocks from Iroquois Memorial. With all this
traffic, it’ll be rough going.”
“Then let us out here, Sal. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Karel paused and looked at me. “That is, if Dee doesn’t mind
a little rain. Sidewalks are too crowded to open an umbrella. If
only you still had your hat.”
My beige hat, the one that had complemented my cocoa eyes.
That was what Mae had said only this morning. Now the hat was
in the Chicago River along with …
“I don’t care about the weather! Let’s go find Mae.”
“You heard the lady, Sal. Why don’t you meet us at the rear
entrance of the hospital? We’ll check for my sister and then
come look for you. If she’s there, I’ll send you home. If she’s not
there, it’s on to the next hospital.”
It took a full five minutes for our cab to reach the curb.
“Good luck, miss.” Salvatore took my hand and helped me
down. “Hope you find Miss Koznecki. Alive.”
He’d said that last word under his breath, but I’d heard. Our
driver had lost faith. But I still clung to my tiny remnant of hope.
I also hung tightly onto Karel’s arm as a couple brushed rudely
past us.
“Heard the majority of bodies were found rushing the grand
staircase,” said the woman, her voice breathy with excitement.
“They’re still bringing ’em up. Maybe some dead will still be on
the dock.”
“Rumor has it that the tugboat pulled the
Eastland
over,”
said the man. “But I also heard that a rush of passengers toward
the riverside railings tipped the ship.”
Three teenage boys nearly bowled us over. “Some of the
women lost their dresses in all the struggling,” one of them
sniggered.
“Naked women?”
“Let’s get a move on!” The three sped off.
“Sorry you had to hear that, Dee.” Karel walked faster, pulling
me along beside him until two elderly gentlemen got in our way.
“According to reports in the evening edition,” one said, holding up his
Chicago Daily Tribune
, “bell divers found all manner
of carnage in the hull. Bodies mutilated beyond recognition by
falling debris.”
“They’re saying that two women were crushed to death,” the
other added, “when the bar’s refrigerator broke loose.”
I could almost hear that first explosive crash. The sound of
glass shattering.
I tugged at Karel’s arm, rushing him along even faster until
we’d finally made it through the hospital doors and into the
lobby. I leaned on the wall to catch my breath.
Iroquois Memorial was in chaos. Stretchers with wounded
victims were scattered about the main entrance and lined up in
the corridors. Doctors barked orders. Nurses hustled to comply.
Red Cross volunteers in red sashes darted about trying to calm
hysterical families.