Our Only May Amelia: Chapters 9–13

I know it will never change, it will never stop, like her gnarled cane, evil and bent the way it is and leaving dark-blue bruises and blood everywhere.

We put Amy in the dress Wendell had made her—it was real fine, so pretty-looking—and Mamma used her lavender velvet wedding dress to line the little casket Isaiah made.

Then Pappa turns to my uncle and says, Henry, I’d be much obliged if you could find my boy here some work in town so he can earn his keep.

Uncle Henry says that Astoria has the most saloons and taverns of any town in Oregon, that it is the most decadent town between San Francisco and Seattle.

They write things like: “Bride wanted on frontier. Will pay for travel. Send picture.”

She can cook oysters twelve different ways: fried, baked, fricasseed, poached, stew, soup, pies, you name it.

You know, Mariah says casually, my husband’s been dead for a long time but I still miss him.

Ivan and Alvin don’t pay attention to Uncle Henry—they’re too busy glowering at me.

You children listen to what your Uncle Henry says but only believe half of it. He is a teller of tall tales.
Now that is simply an exaggeration, a real slur Feenie, Uncle Henry says.

Knappton was the closest town and was full of only bachelors and vagabonds, not a woman to be found.

Ivan and Alvin are lucky indeed that they have relations to stay with in Astoria, because many of the homesteaders who had taken the boat into Astoria to get provisions are trapped and cannot get back home.

That boat will never even make it to Knappton between the snags, ice floes, and coming storm, it’s sailing straight to the devil and if I end up burying my son there’ll be a killing, because I, August Olson, will lynch Captain Jordon and fillet him like a salmon.

Down at the docks there’s a real big crowd, everyone’s jostling to get on the Gleaner.

Alvin has his ticket out and is handing it to a deckhand when I grab him by the arm.

The Gleaner was near Knappton when a sudden wind blew against the boat’s broadside and capsized it.

I say, Emma, you must be crazy as a lunatic if you’re thinking of kissing a boy. I’d sooner kiss one of Isaiah’s sheeps.
Emma says, May Amelia, I swear, don’t you have any romantic notions in that head of yours?

Why, he married the O’Casey girl, she says.
The Irish girl? The one everyone thinks is drowned?
They eloped, Aunt Alice says simply.

There is a real crowd outside, and Uncle Henry is at the front of it Raising A Ruckus.

Calm down Henry, the sheriff says, holding up his hands beseechingly.

Wilbert has been helping repair the rigging that got damaged in a storm the last time Uncle Henry was out to sea. He gets to climb the high masts and Ed Grady says that Wilbert moves faster than the monkeys he’s seen climbing the trees in the jungles of Africa.

A bateau is sailing toward where we are standing on the craggy rocks.

She eyes my dress which has got mud on it from mucking about and food all down the front. She smiles wryly and says, You look real pretty in that dress, did you have a nice time at the dance dear?

Pappa shakes his head and says, Your brother Wendell has been sick nigh on three weeks and your poor mother is plumb worn out between nursing him and every other soul who comes to our door in the middle of the night for her medicines.

There’s cobbler, roast duck, venison stew, squeaky cheese, and my very favorite, fresh pulla, which is Finnish bread flavored with cardamom topped with sugar icing.

Buttons sidles up and mews for a scrap.

Old Man Weilin and Wild Cat Clark are setting on the porch smoking pipes when we come running up.
What do you rapscallions want? Old Man Weilin says, blowing smoke out in rings.

Jane has made Susannah a Chinook dress just like hers. It is made of young cedar bark that has been beaten soft and then woven into a long tunic with a fringe.

When I wake up, Bosie is licking my hand and my neck has a crick in it on account of me falling asleep in the rocking chair.

Whenever I think of her, I picture her in that same white starched apron and I wonder if they buried her in it or if maybe Lonny’s pa simply burned it in the fireplace, burned it away so he wouldn’t be reminded of how soft her cheeks were and how she never got the hang of speaking English.

Wendell, who’s still looking frail on account of getting over his fever, is holding Susannah and he says May Amelia We Thought You Were Dead, we thought you were drowned there in the Nasel with all those logs.