The Way We Met

1. Ellis Island Grand Hall-4

When Eric and Bror came in from the barn, I saw Eric now wore a pair of Bror's trousers and an old shirt of Bror's. The trousers were a bit too tight and very short, exposing a couple of inches between the bottom of his hem to the top of his scruffy shoes. The three of us were relegated to one side of the dining table while the three smaller children sat quietly, with hands folded on the table. I was surprised to see they were so well-behaved, compared to when we met them. I sat between Bror and Eric. As we were seated, Eric leaned over.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't have anything suitable that was clean. I don't know if I own anything proper," he whispered.

"It's all right," I said and squeezed the palm of his hand. He smiled then returned his gaze to the plate in front of him. I would let out some of Bror's older trousers and lower the hem so Eric would have at least one good suit of clothes to wear to evening meals.

"Let us pray," said our new step-father. I looked over at our Mother and she glared in my direction as if to say she wondered if we'd been brought up properly. I bowed my head as did everyone else. An old Swedish dinner prayer was recited by everyone.

"In Jesus' name to the table we go, God bless the food we receive. To God the honor, us the gain, so we have food in Jesus' name."

Eric went on, "Amen."

"Are you a religious man?" Warner asked.

"Not especially, no, sir. I'm just grateful for this good meal in this fine house," Eric said, as two maids carried in trays of food, one after the other and laid them on the table.

The butler came in carrying a bottle of wine and brought it to Mr. Holmberg, lifting the label to him for inspection. Mr. Holmberg nodded and the butler poured him the wine into a finely-cut crystalline glass, then walked to the other end of the table where our mother sat and poured a glass for her.

"Madame?" the butler asked, his eyes in our direction.

"No, no, Jenkins. It would be a waste. You may go now," she said, picking up a fork to stab at the salad on her plate. We all ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Mr. Holmberg cleared his throat.

"Mr. Larson, what was your trade while living in Sweden?" he asked.

"I worked on the docks, sir. I'm a hard-worker."

"Hmm, perhaps, yet here it would be difficult with your poor English. Perhaps you'd make a longshoreman after a few months, but even then, the men would not take to you. Most of them are Irishmen here. They wouldn't allow a Swede in their ranks." He placed a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth and pondered. "I think we'll need to put you in the stables for a while."

"Yes, sir. I need a job, sir, and I'm not picky about mucking out stables."

My eyes grew wide as I abruptly brought my face up from my plate and looked over to Eric, shaking my head. His brow furrowed.

I leaned over and whispered to him.

"You mustn't speak of the stables at the dinner table," I said.

"But he asked ..." he whispered back. I set my lips firmly, scowled and shook my head. He nodded in return. He was eating his salad with his dinner fork and seemed confused about what utensil to use for what purpose. I would need to talk with Bror about giving Eric some basic lessons on etiquette.

"Good. You can start on ours here at home, first thing in the morning," he said, his fist coming down on the table.

"Yes, sir," Eric said and continued to eat.

"And you," Warner said, turning to Bror, "Young man, I've found a job for you working as a stoker on the railroad to the pits. They bring ore into town. It's regular work and you can learn the railroad trade, perhaps work your way up. Some evenings you may need to be gone, but it should fairly regularly allow you to live here with us."

Bror answered politely. "Thank you, sir. It's very kind of you to go to this bother for me."

"Nonsense. Your mother's children are my children as well, and expected to behave properly. Do you understand?" he asked.

Bror and I both nodded.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"No cavorting with unsavory characters and certainly do not bring any more strangers into our home."

I looked over at Bror who looked at me. Our mother's husband clearly was not happy we had brought Eric along with us from New York. Perhaps this would be a difficult circumstance for us after all.

Bror answered for us. "Yes, sir."

Over the next three days, our mother's maid, Mabel, took me from house to house looking for work for myself. After doors slammed in our faces repeatedly, I decided to take matters into my own hands and walked downtown to the hotel area until I found work as a chambermaid in one of the finer hotels in the city. It was harder work than being a housemaid, but it was good wages and would allow us to save some money so we could be on our own one day. It would also help pay the four dollars a week Mr. Holmberg was charging Eric to stay in the stables. Eric had argued adamantly he could pay his own way, but he was only being paid ten dollars a week. Bror and I had convinced him to come with us on this journey, and we'd not have him starve to death on our account.

Eric

I made myself a fine, comfortable spot in the hay above the stables, nestled amongst the fresh straw with an old sheet as bedding. I enjoyed my cozy nest a great deal. At night, as I lay staring up through the cracks in the shingles, I could watch gray clouds floating along past the moon like the seeds from a cottonwood tree in the breeze. It was a good arrangement, with honest labor, good meals, and peaceful quarters. I had taken to eating in the kitchen with the maids and butler. I didn't have to worry as much about manners and proper attire. I could see the look of disappointment on Amelia's face when she'd find me eating in the back hall, as though I had deserted them, but it more as a kindness. Their step-father didn't favor me, so if I stayed out of sight, they might get on better. As it was, I was a hired hand and nothing more, easily forgotten and set aside.

The house staff had turned out to be fine folk, who didn't understand a word of Swedish. They were helping me with English and, in turn, I would often listen in on what was said throughout the house and tell them the matters between household members. It was perhaps an unpleasant practice, eavesdropping, but I believed they had a right to know about the people they served.

One night I overheard Bror having a row with his mother and step-father, before Amelia had come home from work.

"You are behaving like an ungrateful urchin," Mrs. Holmberg said.

"What do we have to be grateful for? You deserted us! You didn't care what became of us. Not even a letter," Bror replied.

"I wrote to your grandmother," she said.

"What about us? Did you never think to write to us? Have you shown us one kindness since we have arrived? Amelia aches to know you."

Mr. Holmberg's voice came in now, loud and booming. "What do you call this house where you are living and the food you eat?"

"Is it a payment of some kind? To make up for eighteen years?" Bror said. "If so, don't do me any favor." Bror left the room, storming out and slamming the door in the front entryway on his way out.

"One day he will go too far, Brita," Mr. Holmberg said, his voice now quiet and stern.

I busied myself with my dishes in the sink when he came walking through the kitchen.

My heart ached for my friends. They, especially Bror, were not feeling accepted by their kin and felt adrift in the world alone. I had known similar feelings since my father passed. They had grown up with wealth and every physical need fulfilled, but I had known, in the depths of poverty, the heartfelt warmth of my mother's loving embrace. Before she died, I had always known she loved me to the depths of her soul and no matter what I did or where I went in life, I would have her enduring support. Love of family, from both my Ma and Pa, still existed within me, though they were now gone. My friends did not have a lifeline in the world, only each other. My mind spun wondering what I could do to help them, to give them a foundation upon which to stand. Bror needed discipline and maturity he did not possess to deal with his situation. I feared for him, and Amelia, if they were asked to leave.

I left the kitchen and went out to the stables, to settle in with a book and enjoy the peace and quiet. When I got there, Bror was readying a satchel with some of his clothes and belongings. I stood for a long while, leaning against a post watching him in his efforts.

"Where are you going?" I asked, rubbing my chin of whiskers after a long, full day.

"To the railway. I will find an empty car to sleep in for a few nights," he said, continuing his packing.

"You would just leave her here with them? She is your twin, Bror."

He looked up at me, his dark hazel eyes meeting mine in the dim lamplight of the stable.

"She has you to look after her," he said, his voice trembling a bit.

"She does, but I'm not her kin. She needs you," I said, sitting down on a nearby bale of hay.

"She only needs the money I provide. I've got to earn more." He swung his satchel over his back, then put it down in favor of putting on his coat before he left. Nights had been growing colder.

"How do you intend to do get more money? What was the argument about, Bror? It couldn't have been just what I overheard. You're too angry."

"I asked the big bully and cow for money to cover some gambling expenses." He started to move past me, but I stopped him, pushing my palm against his chest. "Please, let me leave. It's not safe for me here."

"You are going to run away and leave Amelia behind to face this alone? How much do you owe them, Bror?"

He hung his head and mumbled, "Twenty-five dollars. I only have sixteen. It isn't as if I were asking for a fortune. A weeks' wages is too much to ask." He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into a nearby fence post.

I dug in my back pocket. I only had twelve dollars to my name, but I handed over ten of it to Bror.

"Here. Take this and pay off your debt, then come back and tell Amelia what's happened."

He raised his head, his eyes had grown large. "Tell her. Why?"

"So she knows how the Holmbergs are. She deserves to know."

He nodded his head. "All right."

"And Bror?"

"Yes?"

"You have to stop gambling. This is the end of it. No more."

"I know, no more. I've learned my lesson. When they sent a bully to get the money, I learned through pain I couldn't anymore."

"Did he hurt you?"

He lifted up his shirt hem to show deep purple bruises on his ribs and side. I shook my head.

"You should've come to me, Bror. You can trust me. We are men of like minds, who only have Amelia's interests to protect."

"I will, Eric. I will always come to you." He sat down his satchel and folded the bills into his inside coat pocket. "I'll leave this behind and come back when I have paid my debt." He reached out and hugged me, clinging to me as a brother would. When he pulled back, we joined hands in a fist. "Thank you. I may never be able to repay you, but I am grateful."