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  Eastland © 2014 Marian Cheatham All rights reserved

  www.mariancheatham.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. For information visit www.mariancheatham.com

  February, 2014 Print Edition This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Map and Ship Illustration by Thomas Reid, www.StayDownTattoos.com

  Editing by Bethany Kaczmarek, www.alittleredinc.com

  Cover and Interior Design by D. Robert Pease www.walkingstickbooks.com

  To my husband, Tom, for always believing.

  In memory of the 844 souls who perished on July 24, 1915.

  1

  “Damn it, Dee, when is that blasted whistle gonna blow?” I tried not to laugh as I checked the big shop clock on the wall for the ump-teenth time today. “Only eleven minutes to quitting time. You can do this, Mae.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, but I don’t think I can.” Late afternoon light filtered through the wall of windows on the far side of our huge workroom. Long wooden workbenches were lined up row after row like soldiers from the front to the back of the room. Each workbench had been divided into three individual workstations, and each station had its own wire-coiling machine. On any given workday, coiling telephone wire was tedious.

  Coiling wire today was nearly impossible.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t focus on anything but the time. The big hand ticked off another minute. Ten more to go and our weekend would begin. My heart fluttered with excitement.

  “Last chance, ladies!” Johnny Volo waltzed into the coiling department waving a fistful of tickets to tomorrow’s Fifth Annual Employee Picnic. “Ships sail in the morning. Hope you’re all gonna be aboard.”

  “I’ll be there!”

  “Me too!”

  “Save me a dance, Johnny.” The twenty-eight other gals in our department waved and cat-called to him.

  Johnny Volo was the most popular office boy at Western Electric. Every woman wanted him. Every man wanted to be like him. But Johnny had eyes for only one girl. He made a bee-line for workbench seven.

  “How many dances you gonna save for me, Mae?” Johnny propped his elbows up on her station and gawked at her.

  And who could blame him? Johnny may have been the most sought-after guy in the company, but Matylda Marie Koznecki was definitely the best catch in Cicero—with her ash-blond bob, crimped to perfection in a beauty salon every week and her store-bought clothes from Marshall Field’s and Carson Pirie Scott & Company. But her best features by far were her unique lavender eyes that caught the attention of every fella she met.

  “All of them.” Mae patted Johnny’s cheek. “If you’re lucky.”

  “Your brother still coming?”

  “Mother and Father insist he chaperone. They don’t trust me to be alone for an entire day.” Mae sighed. “It’s 1915 for Pete’s sake! I’m seventeen. Old enough to marry, if I’d a mind to. Which I don’t.”

  Johnny nudged her playfully. “Maybe not now. But someday?”

  “You wish.”

  They both laughed. “Karel’s such a boring stick-in-the-mud,” Mae grumbled.

  “Your brother’s not that bad,” I said.

  “Try living with him.”

  I would if I could. But I’d known Karel Koznecki since I was seven, and he never gave me a second glance. I was his little sister’s little friend. Nothing more.

  Why should he bother with the likes of me? Karel was one of the only guys in the neighborhood who had finished high school. He had an enviable job at Brach’s Candy Company in their brand new Laboratory of Control, testing confectionaries. I worked five and a half days a week in this department, and when I wasn’t here, I was home helping Mama with her seamstress business. My fingers were calloused, my clothes handmade. Karel lived in a world far above mine.

  But still, a girl could hope for wings, especially on an extraordinary day like tomorrow.

  “I can keep Karel busy at the picnic so you two can have time to yourselves.” I winked.

  Mae and Johnny looked at me and then smiled at each other. Mae shook her head.

  “I could never do that to you, Dee.”

  “What? Why not?” My voice came out in a squeak. “It would be no problem,” I said, hoping to sound nonchalant.

  “Nothing doing. I love you too much to stick you with him. That’d be torture.”

  Maybe for Mae, but not for me.

  Yet there was no persuading her. I’d have to find another way to get Karel to notice me. Perhaps I’d use my feminine wiles. But did I even have wiles? And if I did, what could I do with them once I found them?

  Johnny scooted closer to Mae. “Boarding begins at six-thirty. I’ll meet you three on the docks near the Eastland around that time? We’ll all board together?”

  “Karel and I will pick you up at dawn,” Mae said to me. “You’d better be ready.”

  “I’ll get all my Saturday chores done tonight. I’ll be set to go—come hell or high water.”

  Mae laughed. “Hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Mr. Volo!” Mr. Hofstedder, our annoying department chief, barreled straight for us.

  Johnny jumped back, holding up his wad of tickets again. “You two already have yours? Well, I guess that makes everyone.”

  “Not everyone.” I motioned toward Maria Tomaso, workbench four.

  She caught my gaze and then, without warning, she belched. “Sorry.” She rubbed her pregnant belly.

  “Get a move on, Mr. Volo!” Mr. Hofstedder came to a stop beside us. “Scat!”

  Johnny scrambled toward the door but paused in the doorway. “See all you beauties tomorrow.” He blew a kiss to the room and disappeared down the hall.

  Mr. Hofstedder glared at Mae. “Miss Koznecki, have you gotten any work done at all today?”

  “I tried, sir, honestly I did. But it was just too hard.”

  Our chief snorted and turned to me. “Seems you’re the only one, Miss Pageau, who has accomplished anything at all today. Not your usual quota, but not bad, considering.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Mae poked me with her elbow and mouthed, “Teacher’s pet.”

  I pretended to ignore her.

  Mr. Hofstedder glanced at the clock. “Thank heavens this day is almost over.”

  “You should come with us tomorrow,” Mae said to him.

  I pinched her thigh. What was she thinking?

  “No thank you. I’ve had enough frivolity for one day. Besides, someone has to stay behind and hold down the fort.”

  The five o’clock whistle finally blew. Everyone cheered. Mr. Hofstedder shook his head and bristled away.

  Mae launched from her chair. She unpinned her company identification badge and tossed it onto her workstation. “C’mon, chickadee. Let’s get outta here.” She grabbed my hand. “Tomorrow’s gonna be the best day of our lives!”

  Saturday, July 24th, would definitely be memorable. If I could get—and keep—Karel’s attention.

  2

  I fox-trotted the straw broom across the kitchen and then dipped the wooden handle gracefully toward the floor before depositing the sweeper back into the pantry. A little more practice couldn’t hurt, in case anyone—in case he—asked me to dance today. My head spun just thinking about it, but I had to focus. Mae and Karel would be here any minute to fetch me, and I still had to prepare my basket.

  I grabbed two hard-boiled eggs from the wooden icebox and wrapped them together in a clean dishrag. A few o
f Mama’s home-baked baguettes, two overripe tomatoes from our garden, and I was set for the day. I extinguished the wick on the kerosene lamp hanging near the kitchen door and tiptoed down the unlit hallway, careful not to wake Mama with the creak of the warped wooden floorboards. I paused at her closed bedroom door.

  “Don’t work too hard today,” I whispered through the wood. “I’ll wake you when I get home. Tell you all about it.”

  I headed through the darkened dining room and into the parlor to collect my Sunday-best beaded bag and my new beige hat with the turned-down brim that would shield me from rain or sun. I slipped into my new snakeskin shoes, the ones I’d saved all year to buy, and then reached for an umbrella. I paused. The big black bulgy thing would only be a nuisance. Besides, it couldn’t rain all day. I drew back the lace curtain and peered out the bay window.

  Last night’s showers had dwindled to a mere drizzle. I left the umbrella in the wicker stand beside the front door and glanced at the cuckoo clock on the mantle. It was five-ten. I hurried onto our wooden front porch

  I didn’t have to wait alone. Almost every one of my neighbors had risen before dawn like me. Motorcars and horse-drawn wagons loaded with rowdy picnickers paraded down the muddy, unpaved streets, the chuggidy-chug bang of Model T Fords mingling with the clip-clop of hooves. On the front steps of nearly every two-flat on the block, fathers gathered up blankets and binoculars, while mothers struggled to keep their well-dressed children from playing in puddles. I inhaled, barely able to contain myself.

  The air was ripe with the everyday stink of manure, but something new hung on the breeze, a salty scent like the sting of lye soap. Half the town must have taken their weekly Saturday night baths a day early.

  “Have fun, child.” Mrs. Mulligan, our upstairs neighbor, shouted to me from her parlor window. “But don’t be going near that nasty water. You’ll catch your death of typhoid.”

  “I’ve no intention of swimming in the Chicago River. Keep an eye on Mama for me, Mrs. Mulligan, will you, please? We’ll probably be back very late.”

  “Ah, ’tis nothing for you to worry about. Be gone with yourself now.”

  I was waving good-bye to her and the seven little heads all jostling for a place beside their mother at the window when someone called to me.

  “Delia! Yoo-hoo, Dee!”

  Mae raced along the sidewalk toward me. I opened my mouth to call back and caught a glimpse of him, tagging along behind his sister. My breath caught.

  Both Mae and Karel had that long, lean look about them. But while Mae strode with athletic energy, Karel seemed to glide above the pavement, his movements smooth as quicksilver. He looked dapper in his navy-striped blazer and his signature straw boater set ever-so-slightly askew on his head. His hair, more sunny-cinnamon than Mae’s blond, only seemed to brighten the heather-gray of his eyes.

  Each second brought him closer to me, until I could see the infamous cleft in his chin. That dimple held the interest of every female in Cicero. One smile, and Karel would find an extra apple in his bag from the greengrocer’s wife or a second scoop of ice cream on his sundae from the waitress at the Olde World Creamery. He even managed to garner free carriage rides whenever his regular driver, Salvatore, had his teenage daughter with him.

  “Ready, chickadee?” Mae stood at the bottom of our steps, looking fashionable as ever in a summery suit of lilac linen, her pleated skirt draping elegantly above her high Louis heels. As often as she could, Mae would wear clothes in shades of purple that accentuated her stunning lavender eyes. When it came to style, Mae Koznecki knew what she was doing. Today was no exception.

  “Give us a gander at that new outfit.” She twirled an index finger at me. I ran my hands down the front of my steely-blue cotton dress, so drab alongside her pricey couture. “Come on, Dee. Let me see the back.”

  I started down our rickety wooden steps but stopped on the landing to wait for neighbors to pass.

  Mrs. VandeKipp cradled the newest addition to the family in her arms, while the three older kids skipped all around her. Mr. VandeKipp, an engineer at Western Electric, shooed his children with his umbrella.

  “Come on, you little scamps! Out of your mother’s way before you make her trip!”

  I laughed. “See you on the Eastland. Good luck getting there.”

  “We’ll need it with this lot.” Mr. VandeKipp waved as they scurried away.

  I hopped onto the sidewalk and did a little twirl as Mae had requested. The tassels on my sleeves and shawl collar flared out like tiny Ferris wheel cars.

  “You didn’t tell me about these.” Mae rubbed a navy tassel between her fingers.

  “Didn’t know about them. Mama must have added the fringe last night.”

  “It’s the perfect touch.” Mae reached into her lilac silk bag and pulled out something small and golden. “Maybe one accessory?” She pinned the golden something onto my dress right above my heart. “Now your smart ensemble is complete.”

  I stared down at the delicate gold watch dangling from a golden bow. “It’s beautiful. But why? What for?”

  “Do I need a reason? We’re best friends. That’s good enough for me.”

  And more than enough for me. I threw my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’ve never had anything this lovely.”

  “Well, now you do. But we’d better get going if we want to find seats on the streetcar.” She looked at Karel. “Might as well make yourself useful and carry Dee’s lunch.”

  Karel stepped around Mae and was reaching for my basket when he stopped, his head jolting back as though he’d been slapped. He eyed me up and down. My cheeks went hot.

  “You’ve grown, Dee.” His surprised expression curled into a smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while, but I approve of what you’ve done with yourself.”

  Mae socked him in the arm. “Get her lunch and let’s go.”

  He inched nearer, and as he did, a chocolaty aroma seemed to fill the space between us. Could it be that Karel Koznecki smelled like the sweet confections he tested each day? I dared a long, lingering sniff before surrendering my basket. I plucked the stickpin from my hat, arranged the hat on my head, and then pinned it into my bobbed hair.

  “Good choice on that bonnet,” Mae said with a nod. “The creamy color looks great with your cocoa hair and eyes. So, are we all set?”

  My skin itched as though a thousand ants were crawling over my body. This was my first Saturday off of work all year. I had trolley fare in my purse, new shoes on my feet, and—I hoped—a whole wonderful day to spend with Karel.

  “I’m ready for anything!”

  Mae let out a whoop and trotted away. I streaked after her.

  “Chérie! Un moment!”

  That French-speaking voice was unmistakable. I stopped and turned back toward the house.

  Mama stood on our porch looking harried and disheveled, as though she’d just tumbled out of bed. Her waist-length black hair, always so neatly twisted back, hung down all helter-skelter around her. She had on Papa’s maroon dressing gown, the only piece of his clothing she had not given to the Sisters of Charity after his death a decade ago. The well-worn bathrobe had become nearly threadbare, but Mama was a skillful seamstress. She kept the thing alive by adding cuffs to the frayed sleeves and reinforcing the seams every year.

  “No boat!” she shrieked. “Non.”

  “But why not, Mama?”

  “I had the dream.” Her right eye twitched as it always did when she was in the throes of a premonition. “Mort! You cannot go! There will be much danger.”

  “Mort?” Karel whispered to me. “What’s that mean? What’s she talking about?”

  “My mother has these premonitions, predictions. But usually when something bad is about to happen. Mort …” I hesitated. “Means death.”

  Karel gasped. He removed his boater, tapping the hat nervously against his thigh.

  “Take it easy. Leave this to me.” Mae sauntered back toward the porch and gri
nned up at Mama. “Mrs. Pageau, I can assure you, there won’t be a lick of trouble. Delia will be with us all day. We’ll keep her safe.”

  Mama shook her head fiercely. “Paaa! No picnic. Come, Delia.”

  “But you promised, Mama. You said if I got all my chores done, I could go.”

  Mama frowned, her intense, black eyes piercing me like a gunshot to the heart. The look had found its mark. I groaned and grabbed for my basket.

  Karel pulled back his arm. “You’re really not going, Dee? Can’t you make her understand?”

  “Non!” Mama answered for me. “And you should not go either. The both of you should stay home.”

  “Miss the picnic?” Mae screeched. “I can’t, Mrs. Pageau! I won’t! And neither should your daughter.” She whipped around, her glare wounding me like a second bullet. “You’re coming, right?”

  I shook my head, too mortified to speak.

  Mae mumbled something in Polish and stormed away.

  I snatched back my basket. Karel glanced at me for a fleeting second. I saw shock and confusion in his expression. But was there something else in those heather-grays? Disappointment, maybe? I didn’t have time to figure it all out, because he turned and took off after his sister. I watched him go, knowing full well that all my high hopes for the day would disappear with him.

  I’d lost my chance to take the romantic two-hour cruise from Chicago to Michigan City, Indiana. I wouldn’t ride the wooden roller coaster or swing on the Whirligig in Washington Park. I’d never taste candied apples or spun sugar on a stick. There’d be no softball games, no pie-eating contests, and now, thanks to Mama and her wild predictions, I wouldn’t know the feel of Karel’s arms around me as we shared a moonlight dance at the bandstand. I trudged up the steps.

  “Forgive me, ma petite. But I could not risk … Without you, I could not live.”

  “I know, Mama. I’m here.”

  Not going any place. Ever.

  “May I please have a minute to myself?”

  Mama hugged me and went inside. I sank onto the wooden stoop, setting my unneeded basket and beaded bag aside. Mama might want to follow in Papa’s footsteps and work, work, work herself to death, but I wanted something different for my life. I wanted to work, work, work, and live before I died.