1885
Amelia and Helga exchanged a flurry of letters as they planned a Christmas reunion at Indianola. Helga’s daughter and grandchildren would sail from New York. Amelia and Al intended to head south right after Thanksgiving.
The co-op families gathered to celebrate the good harvest. When everyone settled at the tables with their food, Al stood on a bench to get their attention. “We’ve protected ourselves since the last election. We’ve convinced some of the hard-headed Germans to come back into the Republican fold. Let’s gear up for a successful vote next year.”
The Amen resounded like the bass chord of an organ.
Mundy’s family brass band kept the day lively. As evening came on, the mood changed. They settled on benches and pallets, voices blended in a song of sorrow and solace––the trumpet crying out and the sopranos soaring into the trees while the bass moaned the shimmering sound of the chorus.
The next morning, Al and Amelia rose well before daylight to finish packing and arrange the canvas cover on the wagon. Remembering the bitterly cold nights of almost ten years before, Amelia added extra blankets. Al loaded an ax and saw and plenty of grease for the wagon wheels.
When they reached Brenham, the goodbyes for Albert were painful and took longer than expected. He reluctantly agreed to stay at home when his father reminded him that he needed to be there for Saint Nick’s visit.
The roads were dry and dusty. The trees had lost their leaves, but sun dappled the road and warmed them, so unlike her first trip through the forest of black, wet trees and mud-rutted roads.
On the fourth day, the trees parted to reveal the Lavaca River, a calm stream not ten feet across. The bank down to the water had been leveled out, and the mules needed no coaching to walk in clunking steps onto the wooden ferry.
Amelia smiled at the ferryman who welcomed them aboard. “Last time I came through here, the river was way up, and the water ran at breakneck speed.”
“Yep. We ain’t had no rain since May. It’s killing business. Folks can go upstream a mile and ford the river. Glad you’re strangers, too ignorant to know about the crossing.”
Al leaned over and muttered, “I bet we show the old fool we’re fast learners when we come back through here.”
When they pulled up the other side of the bank, the ferryman yelled. “If you come back this way, that crossing upriver is mighty steep. Scares mules that ain’t use to it.”
“Obliged for the information.” Al waved and clicked the mules into a steady walk.
After the supper fire died down, a glittering blanket of stars lit the night. When they crawled into the wagon, Al tucked the quilts around her shoulders, and they listened to the cry of wolves echoing through the forest. “If they don’t get some rain, those wolves are going to be nosing around for food.”
“Are we a potential meal?” she whispered.
“Not yet. They’ve got to be a lot hungrier.”
On the sixth day, curls of smoke rose from rooftops toward puffy coastal clouds. The bay sprawled before them, glistening in the afternoon sun. She climbed over the seat, dug in her valise and loosened the braids that she had not brushed since they left home.
The wagon rattled onto the gravel road edging the water, and she strained to see down the coast. “When the first ships arrived from Germany, the emigrants lived in tents along this shoreline.” She pointed to colorful frame houses sitting back from the beachfront in neat rows. “Helga says this stretch of road from Old Town into Indianola is being advertised as The Promenade.”
“It is beautiful. The shell-white beach stretches into water as blue as the sky.” Al let the mules slow their pace as he took in the little houses, pristine as tiny jewels.
“There it is.” Amelia held her palms together. “That big white structure is Stein House.”
“I had no idea you and Dr. Stein built something that large.” Al stared at the two-story boarding house perched atop twelve-foot piers.
“I wanted the boarding house to give Helga an income. Max was a drunk, but Dr. Stein agreed to let him work in our mercantile store. After Max drowned, Stein House was ready for Helga and her children.”
Al pulled the wagon off the road and up to the gate. He gazed at the wide porches circling both floors. A broad-shouldered woman, her hair tied back in a red rag, swept the front porch. “Helga’s keeping the place spotless.”
Amelia waved. That’s Ester. She came to work for Helga before I left.
“Miss Helga. They’re here.” Ester dropped her broom and rushed in the front door.
Al watched his wife leap like a young girl and run to the gate to meet her sister. He wondered why he had failed to realize how much Amelia needed this reunion. He should have suggested the trip long ago. The two women hugged and cried and laughed and finally turned toward him.
Helga reached out her hand, and then she opened her arms and wrapped him in a powerful hug. Her body felt lean with muscle but when her work-lined face spread into a smile, her eyes crinkled as gentle as her sister’s.
A boy the same size as Albert with golden blond hair swung onto Eagle’s hand and hurried down the steps to join the welcome. “I’ll help you get unloaded. Then Samuel and I’ll ride with you to the livery stable.”
Al followed the family up the stairs and then stopped to look out on the bay, languid, barely slapping the shore with waters as clear as crystal. “This is a fisherman’s paradise.”
Samuel wrapped his arm around Eagle’s leg. “Opa takes me fishing.”
Al had always liked Eagle, thought of him as part wild, a freighter who had been everywhere and tasted most of the forbidden stuff. But as he watched the wiry man stroke the boy’s silky hair, Al saw a tenderness he had not imagined.
“We’ve got permanent folks in the downstairs rooms.” Eagle led the way to the end of a hall lined with paintings of seashore scenes. A band of colorful stenciling edged the high ceiling.
“An artist who lives here did the paintings. A traveling man did the stenciling years ago. When the storm flooded the downstairs, it came to just below the art. Washed off all the color around the doors and along the fireplace.”
“You mean the water got that high?” Al followed Eagle out the door and up the stairs on the back porch.
“Yep. You see why I want Helga out of here?” They entered a large bedroom on the front of the house. “You’ll have a good view of the sunrise. In summer, it’s the best room because the breeze will blow you out of here. In winter, I suggest you keep the windows shut.”
On the way to the livery stable, Samuel’s eyes studied every place Eagle pointed out. “That’s the Casimir House, one of our fanciest hotels. It’s got a bar and a billiard room.” A few blocks down the street, lined with two-story wood structures, he said, “That building on the right is new, built on the spot where Dr. Stein and Amelia had his office and their upstairs apartment. Across the street are more new buildings where the Stein Mercantile Store sat years ago.”
An empty hole opened in Al’s gut. Amelia had walked on these streets after they were together in New Orleans. This is where she had carried his baby.
When they left the livery stable, Eagle squatted so Samuel could crawl on his back. “We need to stop at Hermie’s store. Invite them to supper.”
Once they started walking, Al’s heart stopped hammering against his chest. He concentrated on making his fake leg perform to keep his mind off Amelia alone on these streets. He wished he’d taken off the leg and used his crutches. Long walks loosened the contraption and made it start rubbing him raw.
Heinrich’s Mercantile occupied a broad-fronted structure on the main street. Al felt at home amid its lively Christmas displays and rows of colorful merchandise. Hermie, a big man, wielded his crutches with powerful arms. He grabbed Al’s hand. “I’m glad to meet you. Tante Amelia’s letters sound like you’ve made her a happy woman.”
Lilly Pearl, a golden blonde as tiny as Hermie was large, hurried from the back of the store, both hands outstretched in greeting. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve been eager for Hermie to see how beautifully you walk.” She stared at Al’s shoe extended from his fake leg. “Do you mind lifting your trouser so we can see the prosthesis?”
She bent forward as Al maneuvered his pant leg above the knee of the prosthesis. Samuel scrambled off his opa’s back and reached out a finger to touch the wooden leg. Then he backed against Eagle. “I don’t like it. It’s hard.”
Al laughed. “You bet it is, little buddy. And it’s cold in the winter.”