A Bird On Water Street by Elizabeth O. Dulemba

Author:Elizabeth O. Dulemba
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Pickle Press, Inc.
Published: 2014-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Seeds

The miners stayed on strike through the rain, the ice, and the cold. They built a small shack just outside the main gate for when the weather got really bad and kept a fire going in a metal barrel to keep warm.

Every day, Dad returned home cold and depressed and went straight to his metal shop, where he made charms and model cars for Grandpa to display in his bait shop. Sometimes Grandpa would sell one to someone passing through and we’d have meat with dinner to celebrate.

Mom spent more and more of her time over at the Ledfords’. Mrs. Ledford’s lung cancer had grown worse and the miners’ wives took turns helpin’ out until somebody was there nearly round the clock. Sometimes I went with her, but I mostly just got in the way.

Being the only one in the house meant I answered the calls from the bill collectors. One day one of ’em yelled at me, “You’re lying to me, son. I know your parents are home! Put your father on the phone right this minute!”

I hung up on him and leaned against the counter. Don’t cry, don’t cry. The phone rang again, but I ignored it as best I could.

We needed money. The stipend from the Union obviously wasn’t enough. But what could I do to help my family? I felt so useless.

I asked Mom if I could get a job, but she said, “You have a job—to go to school and learn as much as you can.”

That didn’t stop me from lookin’ around. But even the few part-time jobs were scooped up by out-of-work miners. I asked Grandpa if I could help in his store. He let me move boxes around on the weekends sometimes, but it was winter—his slow season. It weren’t nearly enough money to make a difference, and he couldn’t afford to give me more.

I had to do something.

Watching my dad’s shoulders sink lower and lower each day was driving me crazy. And I could have sworn his hair was turning gray.

About that time, Miss Post gave me a book on greenhouse gardening, which finally gave me an idea.

“Mom, do you have any leftover seeds from last year’s garden?” I asked one night over yet another dinner of beans and rice.

All those summers in the mountains had turned her into a farmer, so every year she tried to grow a garden. It never worked. Farming in Coppertown was like working a man-made desert. But that didn’t stop her tryin’.

“I could try to get the seeds started in paper cups and then they’d be ready to plant come spring,” I said, then lowered my voice. “Since the Company hasn’t been runnin’, maybe they’d stand a chance this year. What do you think?”

Mom looked at me like she’d just found a lucky penny—heads up. “I think that’s a great idea, Jack. She put down her fork and dove deep into the pantry. Dad and I exchanged a look, trying not to laugh.

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