Mother Lode Read Online Free PDF Page A

blackness of a mine with only the light of one
match.
     
    Poor Eliza. So young to lose her mama. It
was all too horrible.
    He helped Helena clear the dishes. But she
wouldn’t let him do more.
    “I’m sure you’ve your studies to tend
to.”
    “I need to talk to you, Helena.”
    “Your face is long as a red melon. What is
it, lad?”
    “It’s very kind of you to keep Eliza. And me
as well. But I—I don’t want you to think I take it for
granted.”
    “Aw, g’wan with you. I love her like my own.
You’d have a tough time getting’ her away from me.”
    He gave her a thin smile. “All right. But
perhaps I should move back to the hill—”
    “And rattle up there by yerself?”
    “It’s too much to expect you to keep us
both.”
    “Now will you let me be decidin’ how much
bother it is? And what about yer poor sister? It’s bad enough her
losin’ her ma. Would you deny her settin’ eyes on her beloved
bruther, to boot?”
    She had a point.
    “I could pay you something.”
    “Oh, go away. You’ll save your earnings for
going to the college next year.”
     
    Eliza wanted her rocking horse.
    “Where is it?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
    “All right. I’ll get it for you,” he said
with a resolve he didn’t feel. He had no desire to enter the house
on the hill, but he would do it for Izzy. Besides there was another
task he had to accomplish there—an unsavory one.
    After work the next morning he set out with
a determined step across Frontage Road by the lake and up the
incline. Already the house looked forsaken, echoing his own
desolation. Sheltered by the grove of pines, the snow still lay
about, shrunken and crystallized. Soot from the giant smokestack of
the Portage Mine above dotted the surface. It was not the picture
of his childhood—sliding down freshly fallen snow, so clean
sometimes he’d eat it.
    As Jorie let himself in,
he was immediately greeted with the
raucous strains of A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight. He stepped
cautiously into the parlor. He saw no one, but the pianola was
playing by itself. The ghoulish sounds followed him as he walked
through the rooms. Finding no one on the first floor, he ascended
the stairs slowly. He wanted to call out, “Who’s here?” but could
not sound the words.
    He glanced in the other rooms, then
proceeded lastly to his mother’s. The door was closed, but he could
hear footsteps inside. Standing in the hall, he tried to banish the
nightmarish thoughts that filled his head.
    Finally, he rubbed his sweaty hands against
his trousers, grasped the handle and pushed the door open.
    Standing at her dresser was his
step-brother. What an appalling violation to find him in his
mother’s room!
    The man was fingering the round blue jar
with the silver ballerina on top. “Perty little thing,” he
said.
    Jorie wanted to shout, “Put that down!” but
feared Walter would smash it if he knew what love the little
Venetian glass evoked.
    “ What are you doing here?”
He watched Walter toss the jar from hand to hand.
    “ You forget, brother, this
is my father’s house.”
    “ My mother—”
    “ Not no more. They’re both
gone.”
    Jorie could feel the sweat run down his
back. “You’ve got your inheritance; you’ve no business here
now.”
    “ Is that right?” The
toothpick turned against his lips as he appraised his step-brother.
“Just came for the tack and the horses.”
    “ We don’t keep them in the
house.”
    Walter nodded, appraising his adversary.
“That’s a sweet player piana you got down there. A shame to let it
go to waste.”
    “ Take what you like from
the stable, and leave the house alone.”
    “ Hey, I ain’t doin’ no
harm.” Walter lobbed the blue globe in the air, caught it behind
his back with the other hand.
    “ How did you get in
here?”
    “ I got my ways. Don’t
forget I lived here six long years. I know it like I know what
happened out in the woods last week.”
    “ Get out.”
    Walter tossed