Eastland Read online

  Mama yanked me to a stop. She clutched my arm, her fingers digging into my skin.

  “What is it, Mama? What’s the matter?”

  Her right eye twitched uncontrollably. She was in the throes of a premonition.

  “It is you.” And then she smiled, which was strange for my mother, since her predictions almost always heralded disaster.

  “What do you see?”

  “You. In a veil.”

  “Like at Mass?”

  “Oui.” She shook her head. “Non. Not like that.”

  “I’m in church? But not at Mass?”

  She stared at me, her face beaming despite the rain and the wakes and the crushing crowd.

  “You are getting married.”

  “What!” I lowered my voice. “To whom, Mama?”

  “I cannot make out the face.”

  “Damn!”

  “Delia! Your mouth!”

  “Sorry.” We started walking again. Mama patted my arm.

  “Do not fret, ma petite.” Her right eye twitched again. “The man I see is just around the corner.”

  17

  It had been difficult to concentrate after hearing Mama’s incredible prediction. But as we edged our way through the mass of mourners in front of Mae’s house, the reality of the next few hours came crashing in on me.

  “I … I need a moment, Mama.” I stopped, sagging back against the wooden fence post.

  Mama stood beside me, gently stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and thought about Mae and Mama. Two very different women, yet in many ways, the same. They had always been strong and determined. But while Mama was cautious, Mae had been fearless. Who was I most like? Mae or Mama?

  Maybe, I was some combination of both.

  “Miss Pageau? Is that you?”

  My eyes popped open. The voice—husky and familiar—had come from off to the right. But it couldn’t be. Not on this street, in this crowd, so far from the Chicago River.

  My mind clicked through every option as I slowly turned. But I could think of only one person with a voice that deep.

  “Miss Pageau! It is you!”

  Lars Nielsen removed his cap, so crisp and white compared to the grimy one he’d been wearing the first time we’d met. His greasy hair had been groomed to a shiny, white-blond. He looked all spruced up in a starched uniform that he filled out so completely with his broad shoulders and barrel chest. Everything about him seemed different tonight. With the exception of two things.

  His warm smile and those mesmerizing, turquoise eyes.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry.” He inched back. “I’m disturbing you.”

  “No, wait!” I threw out my hand. “You’re not bothering me,” I said in a more controlled manner. My cheeks flushed hot as I pulled back my arm. “It’s only that I’m surprised to see you. You know, so far from the docks.”

  Mama touched my back, startling me with her presence. “I will see you inside.” She slipped into the house.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “So, um, did you have to travel far or do you live around here?” I’d never seen Lars or anyone else with a build like his in this neighborhood.

  “I rent a room in the city near the wharf. But well, Cicero was hit so hard, lots of us mariners came here to pay our respects.” Lars paused, wringing his cap in his huge hands. “Could we maybe go somewhere less crowded to talk?” He motioned toward a deserted parking spot in the street.

  I followed him down the sidewalk, off the curb, and into the muddy street. I lifted the hem of my full-length skirt to keep it from dragging.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Pageau. This is no place for you.” He hopped back onto the curb. I did the same.

  “Very thoughtful of all you … What did you call yourselves?”

  “Mariners. Short for Merchant Marines.”

  “How kind of you mariners to come all this way for the wakes.” I released my dress back over my shoes. “So, do you know anyone from this neighborhood?”

  “Only you. And your friend, Mae Koznecki. Saw her obituary in the paper. I want you to know that I searched high and low for her. But I never found her.”

  “I did. In the morgue.”

  Lars touched my hand. “That must have been terrible for you.”

  “It was. It is.”

  “You have my deepest sympathies.”

  “Thank you.” Without warning, I burst into tears.

  “Please, Miss Pageau. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lars kicked the big white-rimmed tire of the roadster parked in the street beside us. “What an imbecile.”

  “You are not. You were remarkable. You saved my life, and I never even thanked you.”

  “Well, now you have.” Lars lowered his gaze. “You weren’t the only one who got saved that day.”

  “Of course.” I wiped my tear-stained cheeks. “Hundreds survived. I didn’t mean to imply I was the only one.”

  “I’m not talking about survivors. I’m talking about me.” Lars raised his head and looked at me with those startling, green-blue eyes. My pulse quickened.

  What was happening? I barely knew this guy, yet he was making me sweaty and teary and very confused.

  He sighed. “Oh, I’m not explaining this right.”

  “I don’t understand. You weren’t in danger of drowning, were you?”

  “No.” He took in air and then blew it out. “I may have saved your life, Miss Pageau. But you don’t realize how you saved mine. I’ve always been only an assistant engineer. Rarely seen. Never heard from. I love the lakes, but a mariner’s life can be, well, kind of lonely.” He paused, grinding his cap. “After we’d met, I thought perhaps things could be different.”

  I stood there, speechless.

  I had rescued him?

  Lightning cracked in the threatening sky.

  “You’re getting wet, Miss Pageau. Would you like me to walk you inside?”

  “No! No, I’m fine. The rain reminds me I’m still alive.”

  “You’re alive all right. And you look very nice in that dress. I mean, I know it’s black and all, but still.” Blush rose in his bigboned cheeks. “It suits you.”

  We stood there, staring at each other until I had to look away. Was he flirting with me? Did I even want him to? Should I flirt back? How could I, especially today? What kind of friend did that make me?

  “So, um, I wanted to ask you. There’s going to be some benefits this weekend. You know, to raise money for the families of the victims.”

  Was he asking me for a date? My hands went all clammy.

  “There’s a Cubs game on Saturday afternoon. Management is donating all the money from the admission fees.” Lars paused, waiting for an answer with a look of expectation that made me quiver. “If you don’t like baseball,” he said when I didn’t answer. “There’s the ballet.”

  “I’d love to go with you! It’s all for a good cause anyway. People should help the poor victims.”

  I was blathering. I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress and exhaled.

  “That would be nice, Mr. Nielsen. Thank you.”

  “The ballet on Saturday? Then it’s a date?” Lars asked as Karel burst through the crowd.

  “Dee! There you are! I’ve been searching all over—wait! Did he say date?”

  18

  “What’s this about a ballet?” Karel demanded. “Who is this guy?” The people on the sidewalk stopped to watch. I shooed the nosy onlookers away and opened my mouth in an attempt to explain. Lars stepped around me.

  “Lars Nielsen. And you are?” He held out his hand. Karel scowled, the cleft in his chin puckering with tension. “How do you know Miss Pageau?”

  “Mr. Nielsen and I met last week.”

  Karel turned his glare on me. “What? Where?”

  “Um, last Saturday.” I answered as quietly as possible. “Saturday? The day of …” He made a slow, deliberate pivot

  toward Lars. “You’re a sailor.” Karel eyed the white uniform. “M
erchant Marine, to be precise. First assistant engineer.” Karel’s pallid face turned as dark as the stormy sky. “Not …

  on … the Eastland?” He pronounced the name of the ship with such fierceness, I trembled.

  “Yes. And I know what you must be think—”

  Karel lunged, wrapping his hands around Lars’s thick neck. Lars let out a gurgle of surprise.

  “An engineer! If you had handled those ballast tanks right!” Karel’s fingers were white around Lars’s reddened neck.

  “Stop it!” But Karel wasn’t listening. He had forgotten all about me.

  “You killed my sister!”

  Lars’s turquoise eyes widened. He went slack.

  Karel seemed stunned for a moment, but then he loosened his grip on Lars’s neck. A second later, Karel lowered his hands.

  “Mr. Nielsen didn’t kill anyone!” I pushed back my rainsoaked bangs so I could think. “He wasn’t the captain. You know that, Karel. We saw the captain abandoning his own ship.”

  “Wait.” Lars’s voice cracked with emotion. “Are you Mae’s brother?”

  “How does he know Mae?” Karel’s darkened face had turned dangerous.

  I put my hand on his chest. His heart was pounding so hard, I feared it might explode.

  “I’ll explain, but first you have to calm down.” I waited until his breaths became more even and his heart slowed. “Mr. Nielsen never met Mae. He certainly never hurt her. Mr. Nielsen rescued me.”

  “I saved you,” Karel said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, the first time when you pulled me over the rails and onto the hull. But he …” I glanced at Lars. His hulking shoulders were slumped, his expression strained. I didn’t know him well, but I suspected he was suffering more from guilt than from those finger marks on his neck. “Lars saved me the second time.”

  “You never told me you’d been in trouble. I thought you were safe on the hull, when I went to search for Mae.”

  “I wasn’t in danger, but all those people … all that screaming. I kind of lost my mind.”

  “Miss Pageau was so devoted to your sister,” Lars said, “that she wanted to jump into the river and go to her.”

  “What? Dee, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “When, Karel?” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “There was no time this week for that conversation. Not with everything you had to do.”

  He studied me for a long moment and then shrugged. “Well, maybe.” He whirled on Lars, water from the puddle at his feet splashing the hem of my dress. “If you truly pulled her back before she fell, then I owe you a thank-you. But there’s still the matter of your ship. The Eastland was a crank.” His tone rose with agitation at each word. “Someone should have known how dangerous that boat was.”

  Lars sighed. “People had their doubts about her.”

  “They still let her sail? And with so many passengers?” Karel shook his head with obvious disgust. “I saw the crew escaping through opened gangways and over railings like a pack of cowardly rats. So how come you were on the hull in time to save Dee?”

  “Why did you stay onboard and risk dying when you could have escaped unharmed?” I paused. “Because that’s the kind of person you are. You were greasy and wet that day. As though you’d been stretched out on your belly across that slimy hull. So, how many did you rescue before you found me?”

  “Two.”

  “And you, Karel? You dove into that putrid water and rescued three more after me. You are both so brave. You’re heroes and my saviors.” My throat constricted with emotion. “I wouldn’t be here without the two of you.”

  “But I lost one,” Karel said softly.

  “I lost three.” Lars looked at Karel as he spoke. “They were hanging from the railings after we’d capsized. I reached for them, but they slipped through my fingers before I could get a good grip.”

  Karel nodded. They shared the same hellish nightmare. Maybe this could be the common ground they needed to come to some understanding. Lars and Karel couldn’t see this now, but they were very much alike. Yet so utterly different. Like Mae and …

  Mama. The man I see is just around the corner.

  “I’d better get back, Dee.” Karel broke into my thoughts. “You’re coming, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “But first, did I hear right? Are you going out with him? So soon after everything?”

  “No! I mean Mr. Nielsen and …” I looked at Lars, beseeching him with my eyes to agree with whatever I might say. “He asked me if I’d be interested in attending a benefit. You know, for all the victims’ families.” I turned back to Karel. “It’s not a date, but rather two people offering support to those in need.”

  “You might believe that, Dee, because you’re so sweet. But sailor-boy knows what’s really going on. Come on, let’s go.” Karel grabbed my hand and steered us back into the crowd of mourners.

  “Tomorrow’s the funeral?” Lars called to us. “At St. Mary’s?”

  Karel froze. I bumped into his back. “My sister’s funeral is private. You’re not invited.”

  “To the cemetery. But churches are open to everyone.”

  19

  “Are you ready to go inside?” Karel stood on the Victorian’s wraparound porch, studying me. His anger over Lars’s appearance tonight had subsided. He once again looked like the sweet, devoted Karel I’d come to care so much about.

  “Almost.” Karel may have recovered from that scene with Lars, but I needed a minute to catch my breath. I leaned on the porch railing, taking in the almost circus-like spectacle up and down the block. The crowd had overgrown the sidewalks, spilling out into the streets, making access difficult for delivery trucks and visitors’ carriages. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined something like this.”

  “Wildest nightmare is more like it.”

  We stood for another pensive moment. “How do we do this, Karel? How do we say good-bye?”

  “I had my time with her this afternoon before visitation

  began. I asked for her forgiveness. For leaving her below.” I turned to stare at him. “And did she give it?”

  “I think so. At least I felt more at peace after our conversation.” Karel crooked his elbow. I slipped my arm through his. “Now it’s

  your turn to talk to her.”

  “What if I get mad?” Mae had made promises to me. Fifty

  years worth.

  “That’s okay. Just tell her how you feel. I promise, you’ll feel

  better.”

  I couldn’t feel any worse. Or more anxious. Except perhaps,

  tomorrow. When we would bury her.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  My heart thumped wildly as we walked into the house

  together.

  The formal parlor was stifling to the point of being claustrophobic; the air heavy with the thick, overpowering perfume of

  dozens of flower arrangements. The block of ice hidden in the

  wooden bier cabinet melted into the tin catch tub with a steady

  drip, drip, drip. I tried to match my racing heart to the rhythmic

  beat, slowing my breaths until my pulse no longer thundered in

  my ears.

  Mr. Koznecki, elegant in black tails, his handlebar moustache stiffly waxed, stood near the arched entry, talking quietly

  to Mama and Father Raczynski. Gracie sat sideways on one of

  the colorful tapestry pillows scattered about the cherry wood

  window seat. She peered out at the street, one cheek pressed

  against the glass of the massive bay window. She had on a threequarter length, white lace dress with a black satin sash. Her long

  ringlets had been pulled back and bowed into a ponytail with a

  wide, purple ribbon. Mae would have loved the look. “Where’s your mother?”

  Karel motioned toward the divan.

  Their velvet brocade sofa, which normally faced into the


  parlor, had been switched around to face the bay window and

  a casket far more elaborate than any I’d seen tonight. Mae’s

  pine coffin had been painted a brilliant white and embellished

  with intricate wooden carvings, gold-plated handles, and a gold

  crucifix on the side.

  “Mother’s been waiting for you. You go see her. I want to check

  on Father.” Karel gave my hand a squeeze before hurrying away. I willed myself to remain composed and teetered toward

  the divan. Turning my back to the coffin, I knelt beside Mrs.

  Koznecki. Slowly, and with an effort that seemed painful, she

  looked down at me. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her

  nose red from wiping. Her bottom lip quivered.

  “Mrs. Koznecki … I … I …” My head dropped onto her lap.

  She bent over me, stroking my hair. We both sobbed. I don’t

  know how long we stayed like that, but eventually I felt a hand

  on my shoulder.

  “I will stay with her.”

  I stood and crept aside. Mama sat next to Mrs. Koznecki and

  put her arm around the despondent woman. Mrs. Koznecki sank

  into Mama’s caring embrace.

  Gracie came up next to me. “Do you want to see her now?” We held hands as we moved together toward the white coffin,

  the claustrophobic room tightening its grip on me like a python

  going in for the kill. With each step, my chest constricted. “She looks beautiful.” Gracie rested a hand on the white

  linen lining of the casket. “Like an angel.” She stared up at me

  expectantly, waiting for me to look at Mae. But I couldn’t lower

  my head. My neck had stiffened with fear. “Don’t worry, Dee.

  Father Raczynski told me this is only her earthly remains. Mae’s

  soul is free now.”

  A child was consoling me? With catechism I knew by heart? If Gracie could do this, I could too. I sank onto the padded

  kneeler.

  The casket was at chest height now, but still I couldn’t make