To the Copper Country Read online

  Mama handed two small sacks of potatoes to Mihaela and Luka, then took one for herself, adding bags of carrots on top.

  Mihaela squinted against the bright light as she came up the steps.

  Mama arranged her sacks on the kitchen floor. “It’s certainly going to take us a while to peel all of these.”

  Mihaela set her potatoes on the table and got a bowl with water to scrub the vegetables clean. The peeling began. Blaž was in charge of putting the scrapings into a big pot for the start of tomorrow’s soup.

  After many potatoes, Luka groaned. “I liked my chores in Croatia. Weeding the garden was more fun.”

  Mihaela’s hands and back ached. “Milking the cow with Katarina was better than this.” She wondered what her cousin was doing right now.

  “At least we have enough to eat here,” Mama said. “That’s a good change. And think of your cousins. If we are able to send them money, they won’t be as hungry, either.”

  Mihaela did like having a full stomach. She decided not to complain. “How long do the chickens need to cook?”

  Mama opened the heavy black door of the oven and wiggled one of the legs of the roasting chickens. “I’m not sure. I’ll just have to keep checking.” She wiped a trickle of sweat from the side of her face with the back of her hand. “There’s one more chore before we can take a break. The tables need to be set.”

  “Do we eat with the boarders?” Mihaela asked.

  “Papa says sometimes we will. For now, it’s better if we eat together as a family in the kitchen. We can put all the food on big platters in the center of the table for the boarders. That way, they can help themselves and we don’t have to jump up and down to serve them.”

  After Mihaela set the tables, she went to her room. She hadn’t completely unpacked her bag yet, and she shook out one more dress that was reserved for special occasions. It was in the traditional style of her village, with red embroidered ribbon trim. She remembered the last time she had worn it, for Blaž’s baptism. Mama had to let out all the seams and the hem before they left Croatia, since she had grown so much taller in the three years since he was born. With the drought, and with Papa leaving, there were no weddings or happy occasions after that. Would they have anything to celebrate here in Michigan? She ran her hand over the ribbon and then hung the dress on one of the wall pegs.

  As she checked her bag a final time, she found a smooth piece of bark with a drawing of two girls in a barn. Katarina had given it to her just before they left Croatia, and her pencil had captured all the details—Mihaela’s braids getting in the way while she milked the cow, the cat mewing for a taste—even her basket of herbs near the milking stool. Mihaela pressed the drawing to her heart and thought about her cousin. Was she still drawing such fine pictures? She set the bark onto the small table next to the bed. It was hard not to miss Katarina.

  She sighed as she reminded herself why they were here. Picking up her herb book, she glanced through it, looking for ideas. Papa was counting on Mama and her for help. Maybe plants she had seen on her way from the train would be like those she knew in Croatia. She turned the pages slowly, studying the drawings and reading the notes. A soft breeze through the open window carried the sound of gulls, and she heard a mine whistle blow. The day had sped by. She put her book aside and went to the kitchen.

  Mama took the chickens and vegetables out of the oven just as the men trooped in the back door. Some of the miners had already washed up at the mine changing room and greeted her as they passed by. They eagerly found their seats at the big table.

  Papa was the last one to come from the mines. He left his muddy work clothes outside, but bits of dirt still clung to his hair.

  Mihaela looked at his face. His eyes didn’t seem any better.

  Mama scooped the stuffing out of the chickens, then carved them and put the meat onto several platters. She placed a platter on the family table, and carried two more into the main room. Mihaela and Luka helped with the rest.

  The boarders passed the food rapidly. The first mouthfuls brought praise for the cooks. “Mrs. Levak, this is wonderful,” one of the boarders said. “Petar told us you were a great cook. He was right.”

  Mama’s mouth curled in a slight smile. “I couldn’t have done it without my helpers.” She gestured to Mihaela and Luka, who stood nearby. “But we didn’t have time to make sweets.”

  The men laughed. “This dinner is so good we don’t need any.”

  “I’ll be back in a while,” Mama said. “I need to feed my family.”

  Papa said a blessing, then filled plates.

  Blaž grinned at his father as he took a big bite of the stuffing. “Blaž cooked. Tasty!”

  Papa laughed. He looked around the table and winked. “The rest of you give Blaž any help?”

  Mihaela laughed, too. “Not much.” Her hard work was almost worth it. Every bite was delicious.

  Luka rolled his eyes. “I peeled a thousand potatoes.”

  “Good for your muscles.” Papa squeezed Luka’s arm. “Are you all too worn out to hear a little music tonight?”

  Mihaela’s eyes lit up. “Will you play your tamburica?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” Papa got up from the table to check on the men. “Any more food needed?” he asked from the doorway.

  “We’ve had enough, thanks. Wonderful meal,” said Josip.

  “Josip, how’s your fiddle? Andrej, yours, too. We need to celebrate my family being here. What do you say we make a little music tonight?”

  “A great idea!” they said.

  Some of the other men went to get their instruments.

  “We’ll wash the dishes later,” Papa said.

  Mihaela smiled as she stepped into the main room. Even though she was bone weary, tonight she would laugh and have fun!

  7

  Tamburica Time

  Papa found his tamburica and began plucking at the gourd-shaped stringed instrument. Josip and Andrej returned with their violins. The other boarders grinned as they looked on. Papa began to strum an old tune that Mihaela had heard often in the domaćinstvo. It reminded her of home.

  Soon the air was alive with music and tapping feet. The strings hummed as Papa plucked a familiar melody. The men pushed away chairs, and one of the boarders started dancing as the others laughed and whistled.

  “Vlado! A leap! Do the leap!”

  Vlado was a tall man with blond hair. He gave a slight bow and then leapt into the air, kicking both feet out straight and touching his toes at the same time. The children laughed and applauded.

  “My Russian uncle taught me that.” Vlado made another bow in front of Mihaela as a new tune began. Mihaela shyly took his extended hand. Round and round they went. He twirled and spun her until she was out of breath. Then he bowed again and danced with Luka and Blaž. When Vlado came to Mama, Papa leapt up from his chair and handed his tamburica to him.

  “My turn,” Papa said.

  Vlado laughed and began to pluck the instrument. Vlado wasn’t as skilled a player as Papa, but he was good enough.

  Mama beamed and put her hand into Papa’s. They danced around the room as everyone stepped back.

  Mihaela felt relieved. She hadn’t seen her mother smile like that in a long time.

  The men played until their faces glistened. “Water!” Josip laughed. “I need to rest!”

  Everyone was red-faced and breathing hard when the clock struck nine.

  “I had no idea it was so late,” Mama said. “Time for the children to be in bed.”

  “No!” Blaž said. “Not tired!”

  “But we are,” Vlado said. “We’ve all had a long day.” He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and turned to Mama. “Mrs. Levak, it’s nice to share your family. And thank you for cooking and cleaning for us. I hope my wife and children will soon be able to join me here, too.” He started up the stairs to the boarders’ sleeping loft.

  Mihaela was beginning to like the miners. Still, they were no substitu
te for her uncles back home.

  Mama helped the boys get ready for bed, while Mihaela and Papa returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

  Papa hummed one of the tunes he had played. “It’s wonderful to have you here,” he said to Mihaela. “We’ve played some music, but no one has danced.”

  “After you left, we didn’t do any dancing at home, either.” Mihaela looked closely at her father’s face. “How do your eyes feel tonight, Papa?”

  “About the same. Almost forgot about them with the music.”

  “Sit, Petar,” Mama said, as she came back into the kitchen. “We need to apply the treatment again. Mihaela, can you get what we need?”

  Mihaela quickly retrieved their limited supplies. She crushed more of the chamomile leaves in the bowl while Mama added hot water. Mihaela began sponging Papa’s eyes with the cloth strips.

  Mama watched. “Maybe we should add a little olive oil to this mixture,” she said. “But it has to be very pure. Would the stores have such a thing?”

  Papa shifted in his chair. “No doubt they’d have some sort of oil. Ah … ” He sighed as Mihaela applied the next warm cloth. “I’ll have to get a horse and wagon for you. Mihaela, can you see if Josip is still awake out there? His brother might let us use his team again.”

  Mihaela pushed the door open to the next room. A few of the boarders were talking near the fire. “Yes, he’s still there.”

  “Josip!” Papa called. “Can you come here, please?”

  Josip struggled to get out of his chair. One leg dragged a little as he entered the kitchen. “Petar, how are the eyes?”

  “My wife and daughter are taking good care of me,” Papa said. “But Tereza is going to need more supplies from the stores. Can I hire your brother’s horse and wagon on a regular basis?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll speak with him about it.”

  Mama started making a list out loud. “We’ll need the oil, and other food, too … bacon, butter, flour … ”

  Mihaela’s hand went to her forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” Papa asked.

  “We don’t know the English words for these things.”

  “You’re right, Mihaela,” Mama said. “I’m sure the shopkeeper doesn’t speak Croatian. And I may not be able to see what they have to point to it … ”

  “Mrs. Levak, I’ll be glad to help you with your shopping list,” Josip offered.

  “Josip here knows more English than the rest of us put together. Reads and writes a little of it, too. But you need to careful.” Papa lifted his bandages to glare at Josip. “He’s the one who ‘forgot’ to write about the boarders in my last letter.”

  Josip glanced at Mama, then cast his eyes down. “Mrs. Levak, I know I should have, but I was just so worried that you wouldn’t want to stay with a bunch of miners like us.”

  “I’ll have to watch what I tell you to say,” Mama said. “You won’t leave things off my list, will you?”

  Josip blushed. “I’ll try not to.”

  Mama looked at Papa’s eyes as Mihaela replaced the cloths. “Do you think we can get the horses soon?”

  Josip nodded. “I’ll talk with my brother in the morning, before work.”

  Papa grunted while Mihaela applied more compresses to his eyes. “If you do your shopping at P. Ruppe and Son’s store, you may not need many English words.”

  “What do you mean?” Mihaela asked.

  “The Ruppes are Slovenian, just like our boarders, and we understand each other pretty well. It won’t hurt to have a few English words, though, since some of the clerks at the store are from other places.”

  Josip lingered until the conversation was over. “Well, I’ll say goodnight now.”

  “Laku noć, Josip.” Mama shook her head when he left. “So he’s the one who chose not to tell me about the boarders in the letter, eh? I certainly didn’t expect to take care of so many other men. But it is just for a little while.”

  Mihaela waited for Papa to agree, but he didn’t say a word. And then she remembered something Valerija had told her on the ship: “Everyone says they’ll go back home, but no one does.”

  Mihaela thought about that all night long.

  8

  New Plants and New Worries

  Mama finished washing the breakfast pots and pans. “Mihaela, please watch your brothers. I’m going to check some of the wildflowers and other plants I saw growing nearby. I won’t be long.”

  Mihaela put down her book about herbs to help Blaž finish eating a bowl of oatmeal.

  Luka reached over and picked up the book. “Did you write these notes and draw these pictures?”

  “I wrote a few notes in the back. Most of the writing and pictures are from Mama and Baba and even great-grandmother.” Mihaela wiped oatmeal from Blaž’s face with a cloth. “I’m adding to it as I learn more.”

  “The drawings are nice. But some of the words look funny.”

  Mihaela looked at the page he had opened. “Like quercus? That’s Latin for ‘oak.’”

  “Are oaks the trees with acorns?”

  “Yes. That’s how we make our ink for writing, too. Remember how we boiled the oaks’ bark in Croatia, before we left?” She turned to another page and pointed. “And pirus means ‘pear.’” She paused for a moment as she thought of the huge old pear tree on their farm. She and Katarina would sit in its branches on hot summer days.

  “Why are some of the words written in Latin? That’s what the priests use.”

  Mihaela nodded. “Long ago, some priests and monks studied plants. They used Latin for teaching. Now, people use Latin to be accurate about plant names.”

  “Oak tree is easier.”

  “I agree!”

  “How does Mama know Latin names?”

  “She learned from her mother. And Baba learned from a priest.”

  “Are you going to be a healer, too?”

  “I hope so. I’m learning a lot from Mama. And I think I could learn even more if I went to school.”

  “I don’t care if I ever go to school. I can read and write a little. I want to be a farmer when I grow up.”

  “Then you’ll like plants, too.”

  “But I’ll grow crops, not plants.”

  Mihaela laughed. “Crops are just lots of plants you grow to sell for money. If you’re lucky!”

  “I want to grow things I can eat.” Luka snapped the book shut. “How long until the noon meal?”

  “We just finished breakfast!” Mihaela tousled his hair. “You have the biggest appetite of any seven-year-old boy anywhere.”

  “At least there’s enough food for me here. If I eat a lot, someday I’ll be big and strong. Like Papa.”

  “Me, too!” said Blaž.

  Mihaela took Blaž’s empty bowl to the sink and washed it out. Would Papa stay big and strong if his eyes didn’t get better?

  The screen door slammed as Mama came in, holding a bunch of small blue-tinged flowers with yellow centers. Fine black dirt clung to their roots.

  “Those look like some wildflowers we had in Croatia,” Mihaela said. “But the soil on the roots is darker than our dirt back home.”

  Mama laid the flowers on the table. “You’re right, Mihaela. Different minerals and climate could explain the darker soil here.” She held the plants up to look more closely. “These are probably native to this area. If they’re like the ones back home, the leaves can be made into a poultice to help swelling. But it’s late in the season, so there aren’t many leaves on the stems. The roots will have to do.”

  Mihaela studied the flowers carefully. Each plant had many heads and their flowers spread in a ray. She looked in her book to try to find something similar. “Asteraceae?”

  Mama looked over her shoulder and nodded. “That’s the name of the family for this plant.”

  Luka laughed. “I didn’t know plants had families.”

  Mama smiled. “Not exactly like our family, but plants can be related. Let’s strip the flower heads off.
These can also be used as a tonic and tea.” She pushed a bunch across the table.

  Mihaela picked up a flower stalk and felt little hairs along the stiff stem. She plucked the flower tops and leaves and put them into a bowl Mama had supplied. Luka tried to help, too. The stalks went into a pile.

  As she worked, Mihaela couldn’t stop thinking about last evening’s conversation. Mama had said they would be staying for just a while, but Papa had remained silent. What did that mean?

  “Mama, do you remember Valerija?”

  “Your friend from the ship? Of course.”

  “One morning, you had gone up on the deck with the boys and I stayed behind because I was feeling seasick. I heard someone crying, so I went to find out who it was. It was Valerija. She was sad because she missed her home and she hated being on the ship.”

  “It was difficult for everyone,” Mama said.

  “She said something else. She told me her mother said people think they’ll go to America for a while and then go back to their countries, but no one does.” Mihaela hesitated. “That’s not true. Is it?”

  Mama paused for a long time. “Some people may decide they want to stay, or circumstances make them stay.” She reached out to take Mihaela’s hand. “I know there are people who have returned. I plan to take you and your brothers and go back to Croatia after Papa’s eyes are well. He should return soon, too, because one of his brothers is supposed to take his place.”

  Mihaela wanted to latch on to every word Mama said, to believe it with all her heart. Mama was always right, she told herself, even as an uneasy feeling remained.

  Everything else was changing.

  What if this changed, too?

  9

  A Trip into Town

  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Mihaela jumped out of bed at the sound of horse hooves clomping down the road. It had taken Papa two whole days to arrange for borrowing the team from Josip’s brother. The poultice they made from the flowers Mama had collected hadn’t done much to cure Papa’s eyes. Maybe the oil they were going to buy at the store would help. She threw on her clothes and raced out of her room, running hard into Vlado as he was coming down the steps from the boarders’ sleeping loft.