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Illinois. She had just heard the whispers of those behind her that this land had been given the name of Illinois. The “Prairie State.” And this land was where her Papa had settled. In only a matter of hours she would be able to rush into his arms, feel once again the security that those arms had always represented to her since the day of her birth.
As she continued to watch, she gazed upon a great sea of grass, an endless expanse that flashed and rippled in the wind in soft wine colors. It was a land where there seemed to be nothing but grass meeting sky, except where small towns would suddenly appear alongside the railroad tracks and in streamside groves.
“How much further now, Alberto?” she asked, turning her wide, dark eyes to her brother.
He was absorbed in a deck of cards that he had managed to steal from one of the card sharks aboard the ship. He was placing them on his lap, studying them, then stacking them back together once again to shuffle them.
Maria's brow furrowed, not liking this new pastime of her brother's. She could see a future of possible trouble for him if he persisted with such a thing. Hadn't it gotten him in enough trouble aboard the ship? Hadn't he yet learned that it was the devil's game?
“I'm sure it won't be long now,” he murmured, pushing his hat back from his forehead, looking annoyed for having been disturbed.
Maria's eyes wavered. “Alberto, those cards. What you are doing is nonsense. Why don't you put them away? When we reach Papa's house, you will have more to do than play that silly card game.”
“Don't start bossing me around, Maria,” he scowled. “Sisters are to be seen, not heard. Didn't you know that? Especially a twin sister.”
Anger seized Maria. She slapped at Alberto's hands, knocking the cards from them, making them scatter on the floor. “You've changed, Alberto,” she said. “Since leaving Italy, you've changed.”
“You pick up those cards,” he growled.
“I will not,” she said stubbornly. “And when wc arrive at Papa's, please don't let him see them. I don't think he would approve. Especially since you always play that game with money. Alberto, what do you think Papa would think of that?”
Alberto laughed self-assuredly. “What would he think?” he boasted. “He'd probably be proud to see that I've learned another way of making lire, dollars as they call them here in America. And it's so simple. No hard manual labor. Maria, don't you know how long it took us to make just a few coins while we worked so hard cleaning chimneys in Pordenone each day? Why, this is easy and fun. One would be foolish to not do it, especially one who knows the tricks of the trade.”
Maria crossed her arms. “And you do, Alberto?” she sulked.
“Very much so.”
“And you forget the blow to your head that one time because you had let yourself get mixed up with such characters who play this game?”
Shadows crossed Alberto's face. He reached down and picked up the cards and thrust them inside his front right jacket pocket. “Must you always be reminding me of that?” he growled, knowing that she would most truly be shocked if she knew the truth of those nights with Sam and Grace. He closed his eyes, not even himself wanting to be reminded of it.
“As often as needed,” she said, setting herjaw firmly.
Alberto reached over and took one of Maria's hands. He squeezed it fondly, watching her, pleading with the darkness of his eyes. “I really would rather you didn't speak to Papa of this card game I have grown so fond of,” he said. “I guess he probably wouldn't like it that I have found such a way to play with money.”
“Maybe Papa has found a pleasant job making good enough money so that we won't ever have to worry about such things again,” Maria murmured. “Wouldn't that just be too grand, Alberto?”
“Don't count on it,” he answered, looking around him at all the other immigrants who were now a part of America and its working force. And he had to remember all those who had come before them. How could the Americans have so many job opportunities and fulfill their own population's needs for jobs as well?
No. Something inside him told him that hardships could possibly be ahead. He sensed it. He had even read this between the lines that his Papa had written when he had sent the tickets and money for passage to America. If Papa had been well off. . . happy .. . secure… it would have shown in the words of his letter.
A conductor, thin and tall, dressed in all black, began to saunter down the aisle of the train, rambling, “Hawkinsville next stop. Please make sure you get all your belongings and step carefully from the train when it comes to a full halt. Nathan Hawkins will have a representative at the depot to direct you all to your assigned quarters.”
Alberto and Maria glanced at one another quickly, eyes wide. “Did I hear right, Maria?” Alberto blurted, eyeing the conductor as he moved on away from him repeating the same speech over and over again. Alberto turned and eyed Maria once again. “Did he . .. really say . . . Nathan Hawkins?”
“Yes. I'm sure of it,” she whispered, watching all around her as the crowded car became a hubbub of activity as people pulled baggage down from above them and children were made to calm down and sit on trunks that had been placed in the aisles next to the seats.
“Why would all these people . .. ?” Alberto said.
“Yes. Why would they all have association with this Nathan Hawkins who Papa wrote briefly about? What could be the connection with these Italians .. . and Nathan Hawkins? And the name of the town? It is the name … the same as. .. .”
“Yes. As Nathan Hawkins,” Alberto grumbled. “Damned if I know what it's all about.” He grew silent as the train's brakes began to screech loudly.
When the train depot came into view, Maria's heart began to pound. Was she truly only moments away from seeing her dear Papa? Would he have changed? She knew that she had. Would he be able to see the change in her? On this journey, she had become a wo
man. She felt no different, but she knew that it possibly showed in her eyes and the way in which she held herself. She had come of age .. . and she was proud of it. The only drawback was the fact that she had lost Michael in the process . . . when she had said her goodbyes to him. Oh, Michael, she thought to herself. Wherever you are, I shall always love you.
“I guess maybe this car is the only one to unload at this town,” Alberto said, watching the people rushing toward the door when the conductor opened it, motioning with his hand for them to come ahead.
