Emma's New Beginning by Jessica Gunderson

Author:Jessica Gunderson [Gunderson, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Issues/ Emigration & Immigration; Historical/United States/19th Century; Social Issues/Homelessness & Poverty; Social Issues/New Experience; 9781496505002; 9781496505019; 9781496523624
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2015-09-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Chicago

The train rumbles out of sight, carrying Father and Gustav far away to the Great Plains.

“When will we see them again?” Helene asks. Surprisingly, she has no tears in her eyes. The last few days have hardened her to the world.

“Soon,” I tell her, though I’m not sure I believe my own words. It could be months, maybe even a year. Maybe never.

“Now we will ride another train,” Mr. Schweitzer tells us. “A train in the sky!”

We climb rickety steps that lead to train tracks propped above the streets. The younger children are excited, but I feel afraid. I have never seen train tracks suspended in air. What if the train falls off the track? And as the train lurches into motion, my fear grows. The cars wobble, and the wheels squeal around curves. I close my eyes, trying not to picture the train toppling to the street below. Then Mrs. Schweitzer tugs my arm. “This is our stop.”

We climb down to the sidewalk below. Rickety buildings line the streets, and I catch whiffs of something awful. I say nothing, in order to be polite, but Katarina speaks up. “What is that horrible stench?”

At first Mr. Schweitzer says nothing. Perhaps he didn’t hear her, or perhaps he’s still nervous around us. Finally he says, “That’s the Union Stockyards. Where I work.”

“You slaughter animals?” Katarina gasps.

“Katarina!” Mrs. Schweitzer barks. “You will respect your elders.”

Katarina glares at Mrs. Schweitzer and then lowers her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” she says. Ever since our mother died, Katarina has been the female in charge. I don’t think she’s going to like living with Mrs. Schweitzer.

The Schweitzer apartment is tiny — just two rooms and a small kitchen. Mr. Schweitzer looks apologetically at Mrs. Schweitzer, who stands in the doorway, dismayed. I try to hide my own surprise. Mr. Schweitzer has been in America for two years, and this is all he has? Where are the streets paved with gold? America is nothing like any of us imagined.

Still, the apartment is clean, and the children don’t seem to mind sleeping piled nearly on top of one another. Katarina and I make do, sleeping stuffed alongside the younger children on a mattress on the floor.

The next morning Katarina goes to the shirt factory to look for work. “The sooner I work, the sooner we’ll be out of here,” she tells me.

She doesn’t come back until dark. As we eat around the small kitchen table, I notice she keeps rubbing her hands and neck. “I’ll get used to it,” she snaps when she catches me looking at her.

We do get used to it. We get used to everything — the noise of the elevated train, the stench of the stockyards, the strange languages around us.

Every morning, Katarina and Mr. Schweitzer rise at daybreak to go to work and don’t return until late evening. I help Mrs. Schweitzer with the children. No one mentions school.

We get letters from Father, telling us about the farm. “The prairie stretches all the way to the horizon.

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