Katerina's Wish (2 page)

As soon as Momma left, Aneshka started complaining, but I wasn't listening. Every time I bent over the boiling tub, I saw the fish in my mind, just beneath the surface. As I scrubbed the
clothes on the washboard, I searched my memory for the story that I couldn't quite recall.

We carried load after load of heavy, wet laundry to the house, and hung it to dry. When we finally heaped the last pile into the washtub and struggled up the slope into camp, the whistle had blown at the mine and the shift was changing. Aneshka and I were still hanging shirts on the lines when my father arrived, trudging silently, his shoulders slumped by exhaustion. In Bohemia, he had always whistled or sung when he walked. Here, he was just too tired.

I was relieved when Momma said nothing over dinner about my absence that morning. I didn't want to tell them about the tree or the fish. It would sound childish, like something out of a fairy tale. Besides, my mother's accusation of daydreaming still stung. I hadn't been daydreaming. What I had seen was strange, but real.

When supper was over, Papa went out to sit on the porch in the cool evening, and Momma took out her mending basket and sat with him. Before she went, she turned to me.

“Trina, you will wash the dishes tonight. Holena and Aneshka may do as they like.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again when my mother gave me a sharp look. “They worked all day without complaint—you ran off and left your work undone, which slowed us all down. So this evening, you will make it up to them by doing the dishes alone.”

I bit back my reply as I stacked the plates and carried them to the counter. Couldn't she tell that Aneshka had dallied at her morning chores while I did the hard work? And, she had done nothing but complain after Momma left us at the creek. Still, I couldn't talk back to my mother. Soon I was alone in the kitchen,
scrubbing plates while my sisters giggled and played outside.

Our neighbor Old Jan arrived just as I finished. Like us, he was Czechy, or “Bohemian,” as we were called in this country. He and his two sons had lived in the coal camp longer than we had, but had fallen on hard times shortly after our arrival. Old Jan's leg had been crushed in a cave-in at the mine and had been amputated just below the knee. The old man had not worked since, nor would he again. As they were our neighbors and our countrymen, we had stuck by them, and they had become like family to us. His younger son, Marek, was a year and a half older than me and had gone to school with me at first. After his father's accident, however, he had lied about his age to get a job in the mine.

Since both sons worked the night shift, Old Jan was alone in the evening, so my parents welcomed him, no matter how tired they were. Momma got out of her chair and scooted it forward for Old Jan, while Papa filled a pipe with tobacco for him.

“Trina,” Momma said, “go put the coffee on for our guest.”

I turned back into the hot kitchen and set the pot on the stove to heat. By the time I returned, Old Jan was comfortably settled. Holena and Aneshka were sitting cross-legged on the porch in front of him, begging for a story. In Bohemia, Papa or our grandfather had often told us stories after supper, but since starting work at the mine, Papa was always too tired. My sisters had discovered, however, that Old Jan was more obliging.

“Come on, Trina.” Aneshka patted the porch beside her. “Old Jan is going to tell a story.”

I was too angry to sit by Aneshka. I gave cups of coffee to my parents and their guest and sat down on the porch steps a few feet away.

“What story would you like?” Old Jan asked.

“A story about a princess!” Aneshka cried.

“And what kind of story would you like, Holena?” Old Jan asked, leaning forward and patting her round cheek lightly with his gnarled fingers.

“I would like a story about animals,” Holena said quietly.

“Animals and a princess, eh?” Old Jan said with a chuckle. “And what about you, Trina? What story would you like to hear?”

“My grandmother told a story about a fish. I've been trying to remember it all day.”

“A fish. Hmmm.” He considered for a long moment. “Was it ‘The Magic Carp,' perhaps?”

I sat up straighter, feeling the same tug of excitement I had felt that morning when I saw the tree. “Yes, that's it! Can you tell it? Please?”

He smiled. “That is a good story, and it has animals. Very well, then. ‘The Magic Carp.'”

Aneshka scowled at me, but Old Jan didn't seem to notice as he began the tale.

“There was once an old fisherman and his wife, so poor they had only fish broth for supper and went to bed hungry. One day the old man had caught nothing all day long. He was about to give up when he saw a flash of movement in the deepest pool in the river, so he cast his line one more time. When he did, he hooked a carp with whiskers on its chin. This carp was hardly big enough to eat, but it was all the old fisherman had, so he prepared to kill it.

“‘Stop!' the little fish pleaded.” Old Jan spoke in a highpitched voice that made Aneshka and Holena giggle. “‘If you let me go, I shall grant you three wishes.'

“‘Three wishes?' the fisherman asked, amazed.

“‘Three wishes,' the fish assured him. ‘Spare me and your dreams could come true!'

“Well, the fisherman couldn't believe his luck! Dreaming of what he might wish for, he unhooked the fish and let the little fish slip back into the water before he knew what he was doing. He thought he had lost his chance, but the carp poked its head up above the surface of the pool. It twitched its whiskers three times and said, ‘Three wishes are yours, before the summer's end.' Then, with a slippery white flash, it disappeared into the depths of the pool.

“The fisherman hurried home to his wife and told her of the wishes, but she merely grumbled that he was a fool to fall for the trick. She gave him his bowl of fish broth, even thinner than usual. The fisherman looked into the bowl, and with a sigh he said, ‘I wish just once I had a nice, fat sausage for my supper.'

“And what do you know, just like that, a nice fat sausage appeared on his plate. Well, the old couple was amazed, but immediately the old woman began scolding, ‘Now look what you've done! You could have had anything and you've wasted a wish on a silly sausage!'

“The old man tried to calm his wife, but she kept scolding until he got angry. ‘Quiet, woman!' he shouted. ‘I've heard enough about this sausage! I wish it were stuck to your nose!'”

Old Jan paused while Aneshka giggled. Holena clapped her hand over her nose, her eyes wide. “Sure enough, that sausage stuck itself to the old woman's nose. Well, they tugged and pulled, and pulled and tugged, but they couldn't get that sausage off! So in the end, they had to use their last wish to wish the sausage away, and they ended up no better off than they were before.” Old Jan paused and turned to me. “Is that the story your grandmother told?”

“Yes. Grandmother always asked us what we'd wish for if we had three wishes.” I ached remembering how we would laugh at our wishes as we worked.

Papa smiled. “So she did. Very well, my girls, what do you wish for?”

“All the plum dumplings I could ever eat!” Aneshka cried, clapping her hands in delight.

“I would wish for blue hair ribbons,” Holena said dreamily.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Hadn't they learned anything at all from the story? Holena was only five, but Aneshka was old enough to understand the moral.

“You're as foolish as the fisherman and his wife,” I said. “You would waste your wishes on simple things!”

“Well then, wise Katerina, what would you wish for?” Papa asked, smiling.

I frowned, wishing I hadn't started the game. “There's no such thing as wishes.”

“You sound like the fisherman's wife,” Aneshka said. Then she giggled and added, “Trina's going to end up with a sausage stuck to her nose!”

“It's only a game, Trina. What would you wish for?” Old Jan asked.

“It's a stupid game,” I insisted.

“Just say what it is you want, Trina. Please?” Holena asked, but even her sweetness couldn't soothe my annoyance.

“I want to go back to Bohemia!” I said, bitterness sharpening my words more than I intended. I could see in my father's eyes that my words hurt him, but before I could take them back, he gave an answer I hadn't expected.

“And I would wish us right back to America and onto a farm. So you see, Trina, your wish would be wasted too.”

“But why?” I asked. “It's horrible here!”

“Perhaps for now it is, but here in America, we will have a better future,” he said.

“That's right,” Old Jan said. “In America, our children's dreams can come true.”

“Dreams don't come true! Especially not here!” I knew better than to talk back to my elders, but now that I had given voice to my anger, I couldn't seem to stop it.

“They do if you know what to wish for,” Old Jan said. “And if you find a magic carp.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't.
Had I found a magic carp?
I was staring at him with my mouth open when my mother stood abruptly. “Enough of this nonsense. It is time the children were off to bed,” she said.

Aneshka protested, but I did not. Old Jan's words had made me uncomfortable, and besides, I was tired from a day of scrubbing clothes. I thanked Old Jan for the story. Taking Holena's hand, I retreated into the house. I helped her into her nightdress before changing into my own, and the three of us lay down on the mattress we shared. Through the thin walls, I could hear my mother apologizing for my outburst to Old Jan, and my cheeks burned.

“Never mind, Mrs. Prochazkova,” Old Jan said in his kindly way. “She is just homesick. She's very young yet, after all.”

“She is old enough to know better,” Momma said.

“But she is still a child inside,” Old Jan replied.

His tone had been kind, but I squeezed my eyes shut in shame and turned toward the wall so I could not hear what else they might say. I did not want to be talked about as a chi didn't want to be talked about at all. I wanted to go to sleep and forget the day, and, slowly, I did.

I woke in the cool moonlight, lying on the thick cottonwood root, leaning out over the water. A flash of white deep in the pool caught my attention. I leaned farther, watching and waiting, my nose almost against the surface of the dark water. The gleaming carp slipped out into the moonlight and rose to the surface. It thrust its flat head up through the glassy surface and its whiskers twitched—one, two, three times.

“Three wishes before the summer's end,” it said in a voice that bubbled like washwater. “Wise Katerina, what do you wish for?”

Suddenly I was aware of Aneshka beside me. “Plum dumplings!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “I wish for all the plum dumplings I can eat!”

“And blue hair ribbons!” added shy little Holena from my other side.

“Stop! Stop!” I cried, leaping to my feet. “You're wasting my wishes!” But it was too late; the dumplings and ribbons had already appeared.

Only one wish was left! I had to formulate it carefully. Before I could speak, Momma appeared from over the hill with bundles of laundry, calling my name and scolding me for dreaming.

I woke with a start, my heart thumping in my throat. I was back on the thin mattress, Aneshka and Holena pressed up against me, breathing evenly. It had only been a dream, but it had seemed so real—just as being beneath the cottonwood that morning had seemed like a dream. Momma was right; I was too old to believe in fairy tales. But if there really was a magic carp in the creek by the coal camp . . . I smiled to myself and snuggled deeper under the covers, comforted by the idea. Soon I had fallen back into a dreamless, forgetful sleep.

I HAD NEARLY
forgotten the dream the next morning, but I had not forgotten my mother's disappointment in me, or my own embarrassment at being thought of as a child. I determined to do my chores quickly and allow nothing to distract me. When the kitchen was clean, I heated the irons on the stove and carried in the mounds of stiff, wrinkled clothes that had dried on the lines overnight.

Ironing was hot, tedious work, with the stove burning all day. The piles of clothing never seemed to get any smaller, and by midmorning, I could not keep the cool, shady pool of the creek out of my mind. I tried to push it away, but it lapped back in, and I found myself ironing the same spot on a shirt long after the iron had cooled. I jerked my attention back to my work with a guilty glance toward Momma. She hadn't noticed, so I folded the shirt and quickly took the next one from the pile, trying harder to keep my mind on my work.

The ironing took all day, Momma and I pressing clothes
while Aneshka and Holena carried each neatly folded pile back to the house of its owner. The men were all at work in the mine, of course, but no one locked their doors in camp.