ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Fifty
That first night, Mac tossed and
turned, unable to fall asleep in the uncomfortable new bed. She slipped to the
floor, scampering over to the single window, and peered through the curtains.
It was so dark on their street, and almost too quiet. Mac wanted to scream as
loud as possible to break the monotony, though she didn't dare utter a word.
Sighing, the four-year-old plopped down onto the desk chair and decided to take
a peek at her father's drawings, using the moonlight to see by. He snored away,
completely unsuspecting, and Mac carefully opened the worn, leather-bound
portfolio as though it might fall apart in her hands.
She pawed through the sketches of
ordinary-looking people, and before she knew what hit her, Mac came across
something particularly horrific. Her father had drawn a naked woman!
Mac's eyes grew to immense
proportions and she immediately snapped the portfolio shut, leaping off of the
chair and clambering back into bed. Thankfully, the movement only caused her
father to stir but not wake, and she anxiously gripped the quilt in her small
fists. The nude sketch bore the date 1896, which meant he had not met her
mother yet, as they married in the spring of 1900. Why on earth would he have
drawn something so awful?
She finally managed to fall asleep,
only to be awakened a short time later.
"No," she whined,
cracking open one eye. "Sun's not even up yet."
Jack smirked at the comment and
set the flickering candle on the desktop. Mac had been very careful to return
her father's portfolio exactly as she'd found it, so he wouldn't suspect that
she'd been snooping.
"I'm sorry, honey, but we
have to make sure we're ready to go before seven o'clock. It's 5:30 now, and
you have to get a bath."
"No!" Mac yelped, her
eyes immediately shooting to the tub in the corner.
"Mac, please don't be
difficult about this." Jack sighed. "We want to make our best
impression on Mr. Popov today."
"But the water's gonna be
cold!" Mac whined. She hated baths with a passion, especially when someone
washed behind her ears. Aunt Olivia was particularly thorough, and Mac hid
whenever bath time would arrive in Chippewa Falls.
"It'll be over before you
know it," Jack promised, and filled the tub using the old pump outside. He
grimaced when the water came out a rather murky brown color at first, and
sighed with relief once it eventually turned clear. He eventually filled the
tub halfway and encouraged Mac to remove her nightgown.
Her lower lip stuck out, but she
did as she was told and stomped over to the tub. Jack eased her into the water,
and she gave a yelp when her body connected with it.
"I'm sorry," Jack
apologized, wishing he had more time to heat the water over the stove. In the
future, he decided, Mac would have to take her baths at night before going to
bed. Mac kept her arms folded tightly across her chest, watching as her father
pulled a fresh bar of soap and a washcloth from one of the desk drawers. Jack
tried to be gentle as he scrubbed the dirt from her face, chest, back, arms,
and legs. She whimpered when he took care of her ears. Eventually, he wrapped
her tightly in a fresh towel, grateful Mr. Rockefeller had provided them with
the necessary toiletries. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, and Mac
stuck out her tongue in response. "You'd better watch yourself," he
warned, and she sighed, eventually slipping into her new dress and buckle
shoes.
Jack bathed himself as well, and
the two of them had a small breakfast of black bread and tea before heading to
the factory.
Mr. Popov regarded Jack with the
same hostility from the day before and snapped at his new employee in Russian.
"I don't speak Russian very
well, sir. I'm sorry," Jack apologized, and Mac tugged on his shirt.
"He said we're supposed to
go over there," she whispered, pointing to a long wooden table piled high
with leather sheets. Jack had to thank Alyiah's brothers for giving Mac a few
lessons in the language, even though she wasn't quite fluent yet.
"Yes, sir," Jack
replied, and encouraged Mac to follow close behind him. There were people of
all ages gathered in groups, and Mac even noticed a couple of children. One
little girl caught her eye from where she sat at the table, and they shared a
knowing smile once they sat beside each other.
Mr. Popov came over to them again
and explained once more in Russian what they were required to do. Jack had
never felt more humiliated in his life, sitting there as though he were mute.
The little girl leaned over and
tapped Jack's arm, showing him the piece of leather she held, and he watched
while she demonstrated how to draw a shoe pattern and cut it out.
"Oh!" Mac exclaimed.
"We're making shoes, Papa! I think we have to trace the bottoms!"
Jack thanked the stranger and
exchanged nods with the man who sat on the opposite side of her.
Mr. Popov gave another huff as he
made his rounds, and Mac turned to the new girl, feeling a wave of energy.
"Kak vas zovut?" the
child asked after they began to work, and Jack glanced at Mac cautiously.
"Macena. Kak vas
zovut?"
"Raisa." The little
girl smiled and turned to her piece of leather. "Vy amyerkiantsy?"
Mac frowned, glancing at her
father for a moment, and turned back to Raisa.
"Amyerkiantsy?" Raisa
repeated, and Mac shook her head, unsure of what the child meant.
"It sounds like she's asking
if you're American, honey," Jack whispered, and Mac nodded in
understanding.
"Da," she replied, and
Raisa carefully used her scissors to finish angling the leather into the shape
of a shoe's sole.
"Skol'ko tybye lyet?"
Raisa asked, and Mac blushed. She hadn't learned as much Russian from her
uncles as she would have liked, and wished they had had time to teach her more.
"English," Mac
admitted, and it was Raisa's turn to frown.
"English?" Raisa
repeated, and Jack could tell it was going to be quite a long day.
Thankfully, there were a few
factory workers who knew some English, so Jack was able to converse with them
if he had any trouble. They were allowed only one half hour for lunch, and he
broke into a fit of coughing once outside in the fresh air. His lungs weren't
used to the fumes or the smoke from the fires, and Mac stood by watching with
worry on her face.
"Are you all right,
Papa?" she asked, once he managed to catch his breath, and Jack used her
shoulder for a second to support himself.
"Yes," he gasped, and
took a sip of water from the small tin cup they were given. "Did you eat
enough, sweetheart?" He swallowed, his voice weak, and Mac glanced down at
the piece of bread in her hand.
"I guess," she
muttered.
"We'll make up for it at
supper," he promised, and bent down to kiss the top of her head. Mac
smiled just as Raisa joined them, her dark pigtails bobbing up and down with
her movement.
Mac smiled at her newfound
friend, and the two girls attempted once more to understand each other.
By the end of the day, Jack's
lungs screamed with protest at the constant intake of fumes, and his body ached
all over. "You did fine, honey," he promised when Mac skipped along
beside him as they headed back towards their shack.
"You look pale," Mac
mentioned, and Jack leaned against the door for a moment, feeling slightly
dizzy.
"I'll be all right," he
insisted, dragging a shaky hand against his forehead. Mac took her father's
hand and led him into the house, encouraging him to lay down on the bed.
"Dinner," he argued.
She shook her head earnestly.
"No," she replied.
"I'll bring you something."
Jack started to protest again,
but Mac was off like a bullet for their icebox, and he decided it was easier to
just let her go.
He lay in silence for several
minutes before she returned, and raised his head slightly. "Oh, Mac,
that's very thoughtful of you," he whispered as she crawled onto the bed
with a plate of bread and a chunk of cheese. She used a butter knife to cut the
wedge into small slices, and both of them ate with a fair appetite.
"I like Raisa," Mac
announced, her mouth full, and Jack smiled. "Once I started understanding
her, of course."
"That's good," Jack
replied, excusing himself to yawn.
Mac continued to talk about their
first day of work, quite proud of herself that she'd been able to do just as
much as Raisa, who had been there for several months. Eventually, she was cut
off by her father's snoring, and realized he'd fallen asleep without meaning
to. She carefully took the plate of leftover food and stored everything back in
the icebox before setting the plate on the table.
For a four-year-old, Mac
displayed quite a bit of maturity, and got herself ready for bed without any
assistance.
She crawled under the covers,
only causing her father to shift positions, and fell asleep as soon as her head
hit the pillow.