To the Copper Country Read online

  Mihaela scooped up some of the petals next to the hive. “Mama! I ran and ran and couldn’t find either of the flowers. Then I saw a bear and I was scared and I came back here so sad because I didn’t know what I would tell you. But I saw the hive, and it had honey and the bees were all gone, so I turned it over to pick it up, and look what I discovered!” Mihaela was out of breath. She held out her hand, holding the yellow flowers. “They’re covered with honey. Will that matter? There are more of these right over there, too.”

  Now Mama was laughing and crying, too. “A bear? Oh, my brave daughter!” She wrapped her arms around Mihaela and hugged her tightly. “And you found the goldenrod right here.” Mama shook her head. “I never noticed them beyond that rise. The honey makes it even better. We’ll use these flowers and the honey to make a poultice instead of using the oil.”

  “But I couldn’t find the other plant,” Mihaela said.

  Mama was beaming. “This may be enough. We’ll use it on Papa tonight.”

  Papa walked slowly into the yard. He stumbled over an uneven patch of ground and rubbed his face with the back of his hand.

  Mihaela whirled around. “Oh, Papa!” She wiped her eyes quickly before she gave him a kiss on his nose, the only part of him that wasn’t covered with dirt. He moved stiffly.

  Mama patted Papa on his back and pointed him toward the cabin. “Mihaela found something that we’re going to use to treat your eyes tonight.”

  Mihaela picked up the hive and led her father by the hand.

  15

  Unsettled

  After dinner was over, Mihaela got a bowl and tore the flower petals into small pieces. Mama crushed the honeycomb and strained it through a thin cloth, then added some of the honey and a small amount of hot water to the bowl.

  Papa settled into his usual chair in the kitchen. He winced as he tilted his head back. “Is this really for my eyes, or do I get to eat it?” He tried to smile.

  “It’s for your eyes first.” Mihaela soaked a strip of cloth in the mixture.

  “Smells nice.” Papa sighed as Mihaela applied the strips.

  Luka stood nearby, watching. He edged toward the bowl and stuck his hand in it. “Mmm,” he said, licking his fingers.

  Mama moved him away gently. “This is for Papa’s eyes.”

  Luka scowled. “Can’t I have some? If I hadn’t hit the nest with my ball, you wouldn’t have any honey.”

  “You’re right. And you suffered for it, too.”

  Luka flinched as he looked at his bee stings.

  Mama cut small slices of bread and spread a little honey on them, handing one each to Luka, Blaž, and Mihaela. “We just can’t eat all the honey before we see if it will help Papa’s eyes.”

  Blaž pushed his bread away. “Don’t want honey. Bad bees.” His welts were still red and swollen.

  Mihaela put her arm around her little brother. “Poor baby.”

  Blaž stuck out his lower lip. “Not baby. Big!” Then he burst into tears.

  Mama picked him up. “Oh, Blaž. Your stings must hurt a lot.” Finding another bowl, she mixed the leaves Mihaela had found earlier with water and applied fresh paste to Blaž’s welts. “Better?”

  Blaž’s lip was still sticking out, but he nodded.

  Mihaela lifted the first cloth strip from Papa’s eyes and applied a freshly soaked one. She repeated this until all of the solution was gone. “Should we make more?”

  Mama moved toward Papa, looking closely at his eyes. “No. I think that’s enough for tonight. Take a strip and rinse it with hot water. Then gently wipe Papa’s eyes one more time.”

  Please let this help Papa, Mihaela prayed.

  “Blaž, I think you’ll feel a lot finer after a good night’s sleep. You too, Luka.” Neither boy protested as Mama led them to bed.

  Papa turned to Mihaela. “I’ve been thinking of how you used to read to me back home in Croatia. Did you bring the Bible?”

  Mihaela nodded.

  “Would you read to me tonight? I’ve missed that.”

  “Of course, Papa. ” She remembered explaining to Katarina that reading to Papa was one of the things she could do for him. She went to retrieve the Bible.

  When Mihaela came back, Papa and Mama were doing the dishes together.

  “What would you like to start with?” Mihaela asked.

  Papa put down a pot he was drying. “The Psalms, I think. Psalm 40.”

  Mihaela found the page and began to read in a low voice.

  When she finished, Papa bowed his head and was quiet for a moment. “Now you pick something.”

  Mihaela was preoccupied. She couldn’t settle on any passage, and her eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Hmm …”

  “What is it?” Papa asked.

  Mihaela looked up. “I like the Bible, but I wish we had a book about the sun, too.”

  “What do you mean?” Mama asked.

  Mihaela rubbed her forehead. “Remember the night we got here? How we noticed that the sun set later here than in Croatia?” Mihaela pressed. “How does the sun work? How does it rise and set every day?”

  Papa shook his head.

  Mihaela drew a deep breath. “I saw a school today. Maybe I could learn those things if I went to school.”

  There was a long silence.

  Papa looked first at Mama, then at Mihaela. “Your mother’s been a fine teacher for you, and she needs you to help her with all the chores … ”

  Mama interrupted. “And once Papa’s eyes are better, we’ll all be going back to Croatia.”

  Papa shifted his weight from one foot to the other but said nothing.

  Mihaela saw that her parents looked as confused as she felt. Why couldn’t there be clear answers to things! She set the Bible on the table, ran into her room, and flung herself down on the bed. She feared what Valerija had told her on the ship was true—they were going to stay. What would that be like, spending her life in Michigan? Would she ever be able to go to school or have friends? Would she have to do chores for the boarders until it was time for her to get married? Since Katarina was a little older, she had warned her that things might change for her when she turned twelve. She would know soon enough. Tomorrow was her birthday. She could never have imagined the changes were going to be like this.

  16

  Povitica

  Rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof all night. Mihaela tossed and turned. She slept fitfully until the clock chimes from the next room woke her. A new day—her birthday. It felt like big changes were coming. She just wasn’t sure what they would be. “Maybe some things will be better, Dijana.” She arranged her doll against the pillow. “I want to hope.”

  Papa was standing at the stove when Mihaela walked into the kitchen for breakfast. As he turned around, she gasped. The swelling on his eyes had subsided by half. “Oh, Papa!” She threw her arms around his neck.

  Papa patted her on the back. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed, but it’s been a long time since my eyes have been this good.” The mine whistle blew, and he gave Mihaela a kiss. “We’ll have much to celebrate tonight. Happy birthday, daughter!” He waved as he stepped out the door.

  Mama had a huge smile on her face. “Happy birthday, Mihaela.”

  Mihaela’s head was spinning.

  “The plant combined with the honey made all the difference,” Mama said. “You have learned well. You see with your eyes and your heart as well as your brain.”

  Mihaela was overjoyed. Ever since she had lost the basket of herbs at the train station, she was afraid it would be her fault if Papa’s eyes didn’t get better. “I’m so happy I found a plant that’s helping Papa!”

  “You are becoming a gifted healer, Mihaela.” Mama beamed.

  Mihaela felt relieved. Relieved and proud.

  Luka and Blaž stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

  “Papa’s eyes are getting better,” Mama said. “Mihaela found a plant that’s working. And today is her twelfth birthday.”
>
  “Hooray!” Luka cheered. “Hooray for Papa, and hooray for Mihaela.” Then he shook his head. “But I’m still only seven.”

  Mihaela laughed and gave him a hug. “Don’t worry, you won’t be seven forever. You’re growing fast.”

  Mama filled their breakfast plates with bacon and pancakes. She gave the pitcher with maple syrup to Mihaela first.

  Mihaela poured the thick amber liquid from the pitcher and watched the stream glisten as it dribbled down the stack of pancakes. A good birthday breakfast.

  Luka covered his pancakes with syrup, too. “Will we have a party?”

  Mama started getting out bowls and the big sack of flour. “Tonight. But first, we are going to make something special. I can’t make it a surprise since I need everyone’s help. Povitica.”

  Mihaela remembered the last time they had eaten the special bread—their picnic by the side of the road as they traveled to the ship. “But it’s so hard to make. I thought you had to have a lot of people.”

  Mama looked at the children. “Your aunts and I probably teased a little about how hard it is.” She smiled. “We are four strong people. After everything else we’ve been through, making povitica should be easy. We’ll make extra dough, so there will be enough for us and the boarders.”

  They began as soon as the breakfast dishes were done.

  Mama put yeast into a small bowl and added warm water. Mihaela broke open fat walnuts, cracking their shells with a heavy frying pan. She separated the nutmeats and put them into a metal grinder with a handle. As she turned the handle, the sharp blades ground the nuts fine and the bits fell into a glass jar attached beneath the grinder. So many walnuts to grind!

  Mama measured out cups of flour into a big bowl and added eggs, sugar, and a few other ingredients. The boys broke up sticks of cinnamon. They took turns using a club-shaped wooden tool to crush the spice in a small bowl.

  “Smells good,” Blaž said.

  “Mihaela, do you remember what else goes into the filling?” Mama asked.

  “Yes! Sugar, eggs, and a little milk.” Mihaela found the other ingredients and mixed them with the cinnamon in a separate bowl.

  Mama stirred the foamy yeast mixture into the flour. She mixed it and then moved the dough to the table. She sprinkled a little flour and started to push the dough with the heel of her hands, out and back. As she flipped it over on itself and started the motion again, she turned to Mihaela. “Would you like to try?”

  Only the adult women in the domaćinstvo were allowed to knead this dough.

  “Yes!” Mihaela dusted her hands with flour and sank them into the warm dough, grasping it firmly. The springy feel was a new sensation, and she pushed it the way she had seen Mama doing it. Out, back, flip. Soon, she had a steady rhythm. After a while, the dough became more elastic.

  “Just right.” Mama placed a damp cloth over the top of the bowl. “Now the dough has to rest for a while. But we can’t.” The daily chores were still waiting. They cleaned lamps, swept the floor, and hung laundry while the bread dough rose.

  Mihaela worked all morning. As she passed through the kitchen, she saw the cloth on the bowl had risen, and she lifted it to peek at the spongy dough beneath. The yeasty smell took her back again to the domaćinstvo. She wondered what Katarina was doing right now, and thought about her aunts and uncles. She sighed as she lowered the towel. She wished that she could celebrate her birthday with them, too.

  Mama stopped to check the rising dough. She pressed the dough down just as the clock struck twelve. Time for lunch. By the time they finished their meal, the cloth over the bowl had risen above the rim.

  “Time to knead again?” Mihaela asked.

  Mama nodded. She punched the dough down in the bowl, kneaded it a little more, and spread a large cloth over the table. Then she divided the dough into three balls. She sprinkled a little flour on the cloth and placed the balls on top of the cloth. “The cloth will help us turn the dough,” she said, as Mihaela retrieved a heavy wooden rolling pin.

  Mama rolled the dough out, and Mihaela brushed it with melted butter. Then she added the filling mixture. The children turned the cloth and helped Mama roll the dough into oblongs. They trimmed the povitica to fit into greased loaf pans to rise one more time.

  Mihaela had watched with Katarina the last time the aunts made the pastry. Memories overwhelmed her. She missed her cousin, her family, and her home more than anything in the world. She tried not to cry, but couldn’t help it. “Sorry, Mama … my birthday … making povitica. I miss everyone so much! I’m glad Papa’s eyes are getting better. But if I can’t be back home, then I want to learn things. Except you don’t have time to teach us here, and Papa says I can’t go to school because there’s too much work … ” She felt like a well had opened in her heart. More tears fell even as she tried to stop them.

  Luka hung his head. “I miss home, too.”

  Mama wrapped a floury arm around Mihaela. “Remember how often we were hungry in Croatia? We have enough to eat now. Your father and I had a long talk last night, after you children were in bed. He thinks we may have a chance for a better life here. You know that the farm is no longer able to feed everyone … ”

  “You mean we’re never going back?” Mihaela cried.

  Mama hesitated. “I don’t know. Papa thinks we should stay for a while. I miss home, too. This is not the life I expected.” She gave a heavy sigh.

  “What’s going to happen to everyone?” Mihaela began. Her heart was breaking.

  Mama turned back to face Mihaela. “We’ll talk with Papa about everything tonight.”

  17

  Birthday News

  Mihaela trudged to her room and reached for her book of herbs. She drew a picture of the plant she had found that helped Papa’s eyes and made a note: Mix goldenrod petals with honey and use as a poultice. Then she picked up her doll. “Well, Dijana, I guess Valerija was right. We are not going back to Croatia anytime soon.” She was glad to have a doll, even if she was twelve now. Who else did she have to play with or talk to? No friends, no cousins … she lay back on her pillow. She was exhausted from crying and thinking about all the changes in her life. She dozed off for a while until a sweet odor roused her. The povitica was done.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Mama asked.

  Mihaela shook her head as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Would you like to go find more herbs? Would a walk make you feel better?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. Enjoy yourself, but stay out of the woods and don’t be too long.”

  Mihaela found her shawl and a basket. Some fresh air might help. She took a pot, then added a wooden spoon, too. That could make more noise than a stick.

  She followed the path near the road and noticed leaves were already turning to gold and crimson. It was early September, but she didn’t remember seeing this much autumn color around her birthday in Croatia. A brisk wind blew at her back, and she pulled her shawl a little tighter. Wild carrots with the purple floret in the center of the lacy flowers were good to eat, so she yanked some out of the loamy soil and put them into her basket. Her feet crunched on acorns as startled squirrels jumped out of her way. “Plenty of food for all of us here,” she said to them. She wished that were true at home for her hungry cousins. When she heard the mine whistle blow, she turned back.

  Mama was working at the stove. “Did you find lots of good things?”

  Mihaela put her pot and basket down. “Mostly wild carrots.”

  “We’ll use them in tomorrow’s soup. Can you go get the boys? Papa and the other men will be here soon.”

  Mihaela found her brothers sitting on their beds. Luka hid something behind his back.

  “What have you got there?” Mihaela asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Blaž giggled. “A secret.”

  Mihaela tried to smile. “It’s almost time for dinner.” She held out her hand to Blaž.

  “A secret!” Blaž said in a loud wh
isper.

  Mihaela helped Mama with the final preparations for dinner. She put bread and slices of povitica into baskets and then set the tables. Luka came to the kitchen hiding something under his shirt.

  The men started to arrive, and Mihaela looked for Papa. His familiar laugh rang out as he walked down the road and entered the house with some of the boarders.

  “There’s the birthday girl,” Papa boomed. He gave Mihaela a kiss, and then a bigger one for Mama.

  Mihaela looked at his eyes. “Papa! Your eyes are even better!”

  “Daughter, I believe you have found my cure.”

  Mihaela’s heart swelled with pride. So much depended on Papa getting better.

  Papa bowed his head as he took his place at the table. He was silent a long time before he finally said the blessing, then added, “Lord, we thank you for our health.”

  “Amen.” Mihaela kept her eyes closed while she offered thanks for Papa’s improving condition. She could finally put the lost herbs behind her. When she looked up, she saw a steaming platter in front of her. “Sarma! We haven’t had this since Croatia.” She grinned when she realized Mama had sent her out looking for herbs so that she could surprise her with her favorite dish: sour cabbage leaves filled with ground beef, bacon, rice, and onions.

  Mama smiled as she served. “For your birthday, Mihaela.”

  “We have something for you, too.” Luka pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Blaž and I made this for you.”

  She took the paper from Luka and saw a circle with two eyes and a smile, and two long lines for legs. She looked at Blaž. “Did you draw this for me?”

  Blaž nodded. “Myself!”

  Mihaela opened the card. In large letters were the words Sretan Rođjendan. She looked at Luka. “Good writing! Hvala.”

  Luka had signed his name and Blaž had made a squiggle.

  Papa pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. “I have something, too. But your mother needs to read it first. Vlado went to the post office today.” He handed the letter to Mama.

  “At last!” Mihaela cried. “Is there something for me from Katarina?”