Love of Finished Years Read online

  While Elsa thought the factory boss looked like a good man, the foreman frightened her. He had a bushy beard and sinister eyes. His lips were always curled in a crafty smile. He would come up quietly behind the girls and look over their shoulders to inspect their work. Sometimes he got so close Elsa could feel his breath on her neck.

  After his pass by their loom, Beth inclined her head slightly toward Elsa.

  “I went to school for a few years.”

  Elsa glanced at her friend in shock. “You never told me that.”

  “You never asked.” Beth smiled. “I didn’t need to work until my father died. Since then, my mother has helped me continue learning. She could teach you to read and write.”

  Elsa was ecstatic. All through the winter Elsa had assured Beth she would be leaving the factory soon to begin school. Now she found she had a brilliant woman working beside her all along. As soon as the thought came to her, Elsa realized how much Beth had already taught her. That she could already speak some English was thanks entirely to Beth’s instruction.

  “We have a Bible and a hymnal,” Beth continued. Elsa had no idea what a hymnal was, but assumed it was a very special sort of book. “I learned to read from them. If you come to my apartment after work, Mama can teach you. I already asked her.”

  “You did?”

  Beth smiled again.

  Elsa’s heart pounded. How grand it would be to understand the signs she saw everywhere. But her parents would be furious if she didn’t come straight home after work.

  “I want to. But I am afraid.”

  Beth nodded. “I know. But you know you need to do this. If you don’t learn, then you may be working in this factory for the rest of your life. What is the worst that could happen if you come?”

  “I will get beaten.”

  “Would that be worth learning to read and write?”

  “Yes.” Elsa’s answer came without hesitation.

  “Then come. Come with me tonight, before your parents have the chance to object. Mama works closer to home than I, so she will already be there when we arrive.”

  Elsa’s fingers shook with excitement. The threads wouldn’t obey her touch, and she felt like the foreman’s eyes were always looking her way.

  The mid-morning sun came in through the high windows, through the grated shadow of Beth and Elsa’s loom, to light the dust that hovered in the air. Elsa tried to focus by watching the rhythmic movement of the shadow.

  She was afraid to go with Beth but this might be her only chance to get the knowledge she craved. It seemed like the day would never end. When their shift was finally over, they waited together until Sonja came into sight.

  She stopped and stared suspiciously, first at Elsa, then at Beth. Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Elsa needed to assert her will. Her heartbeat quickened, and she bit down on her lower lip. She glanced at Beth, but her friend couldn’t help her. This was her task.

  As she hesitated, Sonja spoke first.

  “Comme denn. Gehe uns zu Hause.”

  “I am going with Beth tonight.” Elsa was relieved to finally get the words out.

  “What?”

  “Her mother is going to teach me to read.”

  “You cannot do that. Mother will beat you.”

  “I must go with Beth.”

  “I will not have this.” Sonja looked angry. “She will beat me, too, if I do not bring you with me.”

  “Tell them I was gone before you arrived.”

  “You arrogant girl! I will make you go home with me.”

  She reached for Elsa’s arm.

  “Come with us, Sonja.”

  Sonja froze. She didn’t know much English, but she understood this simple phrase of Beth’s. She looked at Beth, then back at Elsa. Elsa thought she saw a flicker of hope in Sonja’s eyes. Quickly, her eyes dropped.

  “Go on. I will not stop you.”

  She trudged away. Elsa watched her leave, wondering how Sonja could have so quickly given up her dreams.

  She turned and hurried after Beth.

  Beth lived in the opposite direction from the factory, west, near Sheridan Square. It was a shorter walk than her own daily trek, but Elsa knew it would be a long walk home later for her beating.

  Elsa thought Beth’s tenement building looked much nicer than her own family’s, both inside and out. Beth explained that originally this was supposed to be one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. That was why the city council designated it for black families. But the residents had built it up over the years, so now it rivaled nicer neighborhoods. Unfortunately, it now looked like an attractive place to live, and those who had done the work of improving their neighborhood were being pushed out by white people.

  Elsa sensed the cohesiveness of the neighborhood. It felt different from Andretti’s, where the residents would never think to improve the building themselves.

  As soon as the girls entered, Beth’s mother bounded forward from the back of the flat.

  “Oh, oh, I’m so glad.” She clapped her hands, and then hugged her guest.

  Elsa wasn’t used to being hugged—she would have pulled away but the woman’s embrace was swift and enveloping.

  “I’m Josephine. Now you sit down right there so we can get started. The sooner we send you home the better it will be.”

  She directed Elsa toward a chair at a small table. Jose­phine pulled up another chair beside her. Beth sat on the floor.

  It was a small room, made to seem smaller by all the pictures on the walls and little keepsakes on counters and shelves. One or two pictures might have been of family, and there were several images of Jesus. But most of the pictures looked like they had been cut out of a magazine or catalogue only because they were pretty. It gave the room lighthearted warmth that put Elsa at ease.

  She couldn’t understand how Beth’s mother had seemed to know she was coming. She hadn’t told Beth her dilemma until that morning. It dawned on her how much she had already revealed of her family’s situation to her friend.

  Josephine laid a Bible open in front of Elsa. She set a piece of paper beside it. On the paper she wrote the vowels and made Elsa say them, then showed her where the letters fit within the titles of the Bible books. They started with the prophets: AMOS, EZEKIEL, ISAIAH, and OBADIAH were the first Bible books Elsa learned to recognize. She remembered hearing about Isaiah in church but hadn’t heard of the other ones.

  “We don’t have a Bible book that starts with the last vowel,” Josephine explained. “But there is a very important place in the Bible that starts with the letter U. It was called UR.” She wrote it on the page, using, as she had thus far, only capital letters. “There was a man who lived there named ABRAHAM.”

  As she wrote the new name, Elsa excitedly pointed back at AMOS.

  “Yes,” Josephine said. “And look. Abraham has the letter A in his name three times.”

  With that, she began to explain how the letters connected with one another in the words.

  By the time Elsa left, her head was full of stories: Abraham’s journey to a new land, the prophets and their adventures, and many more. She promised to come back every day after work.

  It was very late when she returned to her tenement. The building was dark. She was exhausted and hungry after her long walk but didn’t expect any dinner. Josephine had offered her food, but she had been taught not to accept charity.

  The apartment was quiet when she entered. Her father slept, and Sonja pretended to sleep. But Nina was waiting up for her.

  Elsa endured the belt in silence. It didn’t anger her. She had been rebellious and deserved it; it was her mother’s right to punish her. What angered her was that her father didn’t even seem to notice her absence. Her mother cared—and was worried. That was why she punished her.

  Elsa’s heart went out to her mother as she took her whipping. How hard it would be to feel she was losing control over her life after working so hard for a stable family. Elsa was just beginning to work toward her own
dreams.

  She stumbled into bed, exhausted and in pain, but happy. The throbbing of her back paled in comparison with the thrill of her new knowledge and the hope of new opportunities.

  Once their mother was in bed in the second room, Sonja pulled out a piece of bread she had hidden under the blanket and handed it to Elsa. She accepted it gratefully. After biting off each piece, she held it in her mouth to soften it so her mother wouldn’t hear her chewing. It was enough to sustain her into the next day.

  The next two nights progressed exactly the same way. Elsa came home late, endured a whipping, and supped on whatever morsel Sonja had managed to hide for her. On the fourth night the whippings ceased. By the next week, a cold meal began to appear for her, and she knew she had succeeded.

  Nina was beginning to forget Germany.

  It was sad, for she had loved her homeland and had little to love about America. Yet it was a necessary thing, because there was no going back. This was home now, whether it felt like it or not.

  They had been here almost a year. Even though the German population of the Lower East Side had shrunk considerably, they’d managed to find enough German-speaking families to feel as if they had a community. Nina still couldn’t speak English. She had little opportunity even to hear English. Her limited work was in a German family’s home. She did all her shopping at the German grocery, the German baker or the German butcher. Yet even with these signs of familiarity, she felt the slow loss of traditions and customs that her family had treasured for centuries. Would her daughters ever have a chance to know them?

  What would happen at Sonja’s wedding. . . and then Elsa’s . . . if they were lucky enough to marry? Would they marry German men who respected their traditions? Even if they did, would they remember enough to teach their own children the ways of their homeland?

  Nina hadn’t worked today. She sat in the large room of their apartment, mending her husband’s socks. This room served as kitchen, living room, workspace, and bedroom for the girls. She and Tobias had a small, separate bedroom. The walls were covered in faded green paper, which cracked at several places near the ceiling. Against the outside wall, a faint, yellowing streak ran down from the upper crack, where a trace of moisture oozed through.

  She never had any second thoughts about marrying Tobias, despite his shortcomings. A woman like her needed to marry. They had both been the younger children of farming families, with no inheritance and no skills other than farming. Tobias had managed reasonably well, learning to work with wood and metal. Once his oldest brother could no longer afford to keep him on at the farm, he had moved to the city and opened a cart-making trade. It was a better choice than to join the army as the two middle brothers had done.

  Nina was only vaguely aware of the politics that had sparked a population boom in the early years of the new German empire. But she felt the poverty that families like hers had suffered as a result.

  It was her blessing that Tobias admired strength and resolve in a woman more than beauty. Though he didn’t show her affection, she knew he respected her. She never had to worry about him being drawn away by another woman—he wasn’t that type of man. Their marriage wasn’t an arrangement of love as much as a partnership for survival.

  It had been hard at first. What young woman doesn’t dream that her marriage can live up to the youthful fantasy? Early in their marriage she would cry herself to sleep after Tobias mechanically had sex with her. Soon she accepted things as they were and knew she was lucky to have a husband who wasn’t cruel to her. Yet even now, it hurt. She was acutely aware that he hadn’t touched her sexually since her last pregnancy.

  Sonja would be home soon, she thought. She usually waited for Sonja before she began to prepare dinner. Tobias would come about an hour later. Elsa . . . who could say when she would return?

  All through the spring and summer, Elsa had gone to see her new friends after work. Nina did wish they could afford to send her and Sonja to a real school, but it was impossible. So Elsa did what she needed to do.

  Nina didn’t regret punishing her those first few days. Children weren’t supposed to make decisions on their own, even if the decisions themselves were defensible. What might it lead to?

  Discipline was the only way she knew to keep control of her family. She never considered that it might not work until that night when Elsa took her belt without a quiver. She had expected it and made her decision despite it. Nina had suddenly felt powerless. How could she stop her daughter from doing anything if she no longer feared punishment? Rebellion had never been Elsa’s way. She had always been the model of obedience. Her act had been so out of character.

  It angered Nina at first, but in time she realized how right her daughter was. Poor Elsa got nothing from her family—not education, not tradition, and lately, not even affection. Of course she would look elsewhere. If she didn’t, it would destroy her.

  Sonja’s footfall sounded on the stairs outside the apartment. Nina rose to begin preparations for dinner.

  After it was ready they waited with the stew on the stove until the coals began to burn out, then they supped together in silence. Their eyes met several times during the meal, but neither dared to voice the thought on both their minds: something was amiss.

  Tobias had worked late before. The bridge construction had ramped up as the worst of the summer heat subsided. Perhaps he had been forced to work another extended shift. But something seemed wrong that evening.

  Only after Elsa returned did Nina really begin to worry. Tobias never went to the saloons to pass the evening with the other workers. He diligently saved every penny he earned. Could he have finally gone the way of whiskey, like so many others? If he had, would that be any worse than his silent, sober neglect?

  She went to bed but couldn’t sleep. After another hour she grew angry, then fearful.

  With a sudden flash of dread, she rose and looked behind the sink for the jar where they kept their money. It was empty.

  That was like him.

  If he were to leave them, he would plan ahead and take what he wanted. Then he would leave without causing a scene, for he feared her more than their daughters did. It irked her that he had pulled it off without her ever suspecting his deceit.

  Nina stumbled back to bed, shaking with despair. She didn’t even know whether she would miss him. He had put food on the table, a roof over their heads, and given warmth to her bed—not much else. Yet after all these years she had grown used to being with him.

  Now they were three women alone in a city eager to ruin them. Did the man feel no duty toward the girls he’d fathered? Was she, now that she was incapable of bearing a child, a useless weight to him?

  She lay motionless, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. The foundations of her world seemed to crumble around her. No longer could she count on the protection of a husband or her children’s obedience.

  Another winter would come soon. She would need a permanent job, but even then, their savings were gone. Should anything go wrong, they would be destroyed. They were unskilled, uneducated women. Only the youngest even spoke the language. Women like them weren’t expected to live in this world without a man.

  The very injustice of it spurred her to do something. She wouldn’t let Tobias drive her to the depths of despair that he had reached. She would provide for her daughters as long as she lived—they needed her.

  She laid awake the remainder of the night, wondering whether her daughters yet sensed their own peril.

  Chapter Five

  Winter in New York

  By early December, it was clear it would be a cold winter in New York.

  It frightened Elsa to see that now, of all times, her mother seemed weak. Often before, she’d wished her mother would soften. Not now.

  It had been two months since Tobias left them. The day after, Nina went to stand in the lines at Hopkins & Co. Middle-aged women weren’t the most common laborers, but Nina was clearly strong. She was hired by a warehouse near the shipyards. Her p
ay was far less than what Tobias had commanded, but more than what the girls earned. They weren’t able to save much money on their three salaries, but they kept up on their rent and expenses.

  The little things had to go wanting. Elsa knew her mother had been planning to buy a sewing machine, which while expensive at first, would have saved them money over the years when compared with buying their clothes ready-made. Now that they were all working, no one had the time or energy to sew clothes by hand.

  Their meals became simpler, as groceries were reduced to the staples. Once the spices and treats they had in their kitchen were gone, they couldn’t justify buying more. Salt became the last flavoring on their meals that winter.

  Elsa continued her after-work studies with Josephine. In nine months, she felt she’d made incredible progress. Through the words of the Bible she’d quickly learned the name, sound, and symbol of each letter and how to combine them. Josephine had a story for each letter, making them easier to remember. Once Elsa was able to put letters together and decipher words, she wondered at their meanings. When she grew weary of deciphering the words herself, Josephine would read a fascinating story from the Bible while Elsa followed along with the text.

  She remembered some of the stories from her younger days. Others she heard regularly at church. But when Josephine told a story, it took on new life. Elsa always asked questions. Her lessons were so captivating to her that Elsa often forgot she was learning.

  The most rewarding moment for Elsa was when she began to realize she could read other things than the Bible. The signs she saw on street-posts and shop banners began to make sense. Even when she didn’t know the words, she recognized the letters and knew how to say the words. Best of all, the few German shops left in their neighborhood used the same letters. How magical it felt when, for the first time, she read a shop’s sign, pieced together the letters, and realized she was learning to read in German as well as in English.

  Christmas passed without fanfare. Hearing the old German carols at St. Mark’s and seeing the lighted tree made Elsa nostalgic. But Christmas was welcomed more for the two consecutive workdays off than for the celebration of tradition.