Chapter One
Lima Beans and Jellybeans
Wishes, they come in all sizes, some as big as the moon, others as tiny as a pea. There are the wishes you whisper, and the wishes you shout from the rooftops. Then there are the wishes said in a moment of anger that you instantly want to take back. Wishes you forget about almost as soon as they leave your lips, and wishes that live deep in your heart for years. Impossible wishes and improbable wishes. And all the wishes in between. Wishes on stars and wishes on dandelion seeds. And let’s not forget wishes on pennies tossed into wells.
On this particular morning, eleven-year-old Kitsy McGullen had a simple wish. She wished they had more for breakfast than a single can of lima beans. Maybe a teetering stack of pancakes drowned in a river of maple syrup. Or a pasty like Mama used to make for Dad to take down into the mines. Even dry toast would be better than mushy, tinny lima beans.
But Kitsy was a practical girl. She knew all too well that wishing didn’t accomplish much. Sure, it could give you a moment of hope, but it didn’t make breakfast appear on the table. Or pay for new shoes. Bring people back from the dead, or cure the sick. However, Kitsy was also a very resourceful girl, and she knew how to make her own wishes come true—at least some of them.
The door of the dingy basement flat blew open with a BANG, and her little brother Teddy entered, his arms loaded down with old newspapers, dead leaves, and other rubbish. Using all his strength, he wedged his shoulder against the door and forced it shut against the fierce spring wind, Miette, their Siamese cat, slipping in at the last moment.
Teddy tossed the papers and trash into the embers of the woodstove as Kitsy poured the contents of the can into their only pot and put it on the stove. Lima beans were better than knots of hunger twisting up their bellies, she supposed.
Without wood to feed the fire, the flame soon went out, their breakfast barely warmed.
She divided the beans among three bowls, pouring a bit more into her brother’s bowl than her own. “Breakfast is ready.”
Moira McGullen sat up in her cot. Her light brown hair fell in tangles past her shoulders, her once pretty face, now pale and hollow. A coughing fit seized her, shaking her thin body, and she covered her mouth with a dirty handkerchief.
Mama had taken to bed a few weeks ago. Her fever rising ever higher and her cough growing worse every day.
“Mama?” Teddy called, his voice uncertain.
“I’m okay, honey. Just a little cold,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You two eat your breakfast and don’t worry about me. I’m not hungry.”
They had already lost their father in the Great War. Kitsy wasn’t about to lose her mom, too.
“You need your strength. Eat up,” Kitsy ordered. She even held a spoon up to her mother’s lips. Kitsy may not be able to wish her mother into good health, but she could certainly help her get well. In fact, she and Teddy were determined to do just that.
Mama suppressed an amused smile before submitting to her daughter’s demands.
Teddy sat on the floor with his breakfast, legs criss-cross. They had burnt the kitchen table to keep warm last winter. Miette sat next to him, watching him intensely with her blue cat eyes, her tail swishing back and forth. He ate the food a small spoonful at a time in order to make it last longer. It was one of the tricks he learned to fool his belly. More bites meant more food, right? Sometimes he chewed for an extra long time. Other times, he pretended the food was something else. Like right now, Teddy was pretending the beans were really fruity jellybeans. He only had jellybeans once. It was before his dad died. He and Kitsy each got their own Easter basket that year; it was the first time they didn’t have to share. There had been a chocolate bunny, chocolate eggs with crème inside, and jellybeans. The jellybeans had been his favorite, all sweet and chewy and citrusy. He dreamed about those jellybeans from time to time. But no matter how hard he imagined, the cold, mushy lima beans really didn’t taste anything like jellybeans.
“You hungry, too?” he asked the cat. He spooned out a single bean and gave it to her. She gave it a sniff and promptly turned her nose up at it. Teddy didn’t really blame her.
Mama didn’t eat more than three bites before waving Kitsy away. “Enough,” she declared, wheezing. “You need to eat and get ready for school.”
“Okay, Mama. You rest,” Kitsy said as her mom lay back down and closed her eyes. Miette jumped up on the cot, promptly turned in three circles, then laid down to snuggle and purr.
Kitsy had taken only one bite of her own breakfast before an angry fist pounded on the door, startling all three of them, not to mention the cat. They all looked at each other with wide, anxious eyes. They knew who that angry fist belonged to—Mr. Kree, their landlord.
“I know you’re in there!” he yelled through the door, his fist still pounding.
Never one to cower, Kitsy marched up to the door and opened it with her head high and her chin thrust out. “Yes?” she inquired in a haughty tone, meeting the landlord’s tiny, bloodshot eyes.
Mr. Kree was a short but very wide man with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. His massive nose took up most of his ugly face. His clothes were disheveled, and he stank of stale beer and bad hygiene.
“Where’s your mother?” he demanded.
“Indisposed. I will tell her you stopped by,” Kitsy said in the same superior tone and started to close the door, but Mr. Kree pushed it back open.
“Hey!” she yelped.
“It’s okay, Kitsy,” Mama said, leaning on Teddy for support as she walked to the door. “Mr. Kree,” she said formally, clutching her shawl about her shoulders and stifling a cough. “What can I do for you this fine morning?”
Kitsy and Teddy glared up at him, daring him to disrespect their mother. Even Miette sat up and stared at him through slitted eyes, her tail twitching back and forth.
“You know very well what you can do for me,” he sneered. “You’re late with rent. Again.”
Mama pulled her shawl tighter. “I hadn’t realized. I’ve been ill. You have my apologies.”
“Apologies! I don’t want your apologies; I want my rent! A man with a heart not so soft as mine would have thrown you out the first time you were late. I’m beginning to think you’re taking advantage of me, Mrs. McGullen.”
Kitsy scowled. There was nothing soft about Mr. Kree’s heart, she thought ungenerously. It was as black and hard as a chunk of coal. He was surely the meanest, ugliest man in all of Hope’s End.
Mama forced a smile. “I appreciate your patience, Mr. Kree. But as I’ve said, I’ve been ill. I’ve been unable to take in any mending—” Just then a coughing fit overtook her, shaking her whole body.
“Mama, are you alright?” Teddy asked, anxiously.
Kitsy couldn’t stand to see Mr. Kree upset their mother. She ran from the door to the bed she shared with her brother and thrust her hand under the mattress, blindly searching for her and Teddy’s secret stash. Finally, her hand found the coins and crumpled bills and she yanked them out.
“I’ve had quite enough of your theatrics, Mrs. McGullen! I won’t be had again!” he declared, waggling a stubby finger in her face. “Pay up or you and your ragamuffins can pack your bags this instant!”
“There’s your money,” Kitsy said in a hard voice, shoving what little money they had into his fat, greedy hand. “Now leave.”
The landlord looked surprised, but that didn’t stop him from taking the money. He licked his dirty thumb and counted the cash right in front of them. Satisfied, he tucked the rent money safely in his coat pocket and smiled down at Kitsy. It was a nasty sort of smile. “You’re short, but I’ll let it slide this time because I’m such a kind-hearted man. I will see you next week when rent is due again, little one. If your old lady can’t come up with the money, plus what she still owes me for this month, the three of you—and your little cat too—will be out on the streets.”
Miette hissed at him from the cot, and Kitsy slammed the door in his face. Oh how she hated Mr. Kree! She understood that they had to pay their rent. Mama always said it was important to work hard and live up to your responsibilities. But Mama also always said that it was important to show kindness and compassion whenever possible. Apparently no one had ever taught Mr. Kree about kindness or compassion. He didn’t care that Mama was sick and couldn’t work, or that she had every intention of living up to her responsibilities.
“Where did that money come from?” Mama asked, settling back into bed.
Teddy opened his mouth to answer. “We’ve been—”
“We earned it,” Kitsy interrupted. “Delivering groceries for Mr. Cantwell,” she added quickly. She pulled the covers up to her mother’s chin and shot her brother a dirty look. Teddy was honest to a fault; he couldn’t tell a lie if his life depended on it, and he could scarcely keep a secret. But Kitsy was determined to keep this secret.
Mama grabbed Kitsy’s hand and squeezed it. “My resourceful girl. And my sweet boy.” She smiled at Teddy. “I’m so lucky to have you. Your dad—” she started to say but the hacking cough took over again. However, brother and sister knew how that sentence ended. They had heard it often in the last three years. Your dad would be so proud.
When the telegram came saying Daddy had died in the war, Mama began telling lots of stories about him so Kitsy and Teddy wouldn't forget him. She told the stories so many times that Kitsy was no longer sure which memories belonged to her mom and which memories were her own. She loved to tell the story of how their dad would waltz Kitsy around the house for hours when she was just an itty-bitty baby because it was the only thing that would soothe her. Sometimes Kitsy thought she could actually remember the music and her dad singing to her as they danced. But she knew that was impossible. Nobody could remember their babyhood. The truth was that Kitsy wasn’t sure if she had any real memories of her dad, even though she was eight when he went to war.
Hope’s End was a mining town at the tippity top of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Her dad had been a junior engineer and spent most of the day down in the copper mines, so his family didn’t see much of him. But she thought the memories of the tickle fights where she would laugh so hard tears would stream down her cheeks were more hers than her mom’s. And she was nearly certain that she remembered how he loved to tell knock-knock jokes over breakfast. She even remembered some of the jokes.
Knock Knock! Who's there? Lettuce. Lettuce who? Lettuce in, we're freezing!
However, Mama’s favorite story to tell was how their dad would be proud of them. Every day she found something they did that would make him proud. Teddy relished in these moments. He knew his dad was watching over them—Mama had told him so—and that did help to ease the sadness of missing him. And sometimes, when he had done something exceptionally good (like when he first learned to tie his own shoelaces or when he got a hundred percent on his spelling test) he didn’t need his mom to tell him how proud his dad was; Teddy could actually feel his presence beside him. He could even see his dad with his dark hair and dark eyes smiling down at him and feel a warmth in his chest where his heart was. That was how he truly knew his dad was always with him and that he’d would never let anything truly bad happen to him or his sister or Mama.
Kitsy, on the other hand, wasn’t all that interested in making her father proud. In fact, she was still really, really angry at him (whether she truly remembered him or not). Furious, actually. He left them and everything fell apart. They had to leave their bright, cozy apartment above the bakery that always smelled of freshly baked bread and move into the cold basement flat beneath the shuttered tavern, with its damp odor and single, grimy window. Their bellies went hungry and their clothes became threadbare and then Mama got sick. How could he do that? Leave them like that, like they didn’t matter? Mama swore that nothing mattered more to their dad than his family; that he had left in order to make a safer and happier world for his children to grow up in; that he had so desperately wanted to come home to them. But Kitsy didn’t buy it, not for a second. Mama, Teddy, and Miette were the most important things in the world to her. Nothing could make Kitsy leave her family. Not ever.
So Kitsy did everything she could to show her dad that they didn’t need him anyhow. She would provide for the family—earn money, put food on the table, and be there for Mama and Teddy no matter what. And she had been. She was the one to comfort Mama when she couldn’t stop crying after the telegram came; she was one who took care of Teddy when their mom had to find work. And when Mama first became ill, it was Kitsy who convinced her to go see Dr. Malfae.
Rumor had it that the doctor had taken to the bottle and could scarcely tell an elbow from an earlobe, but he was the only doctor in Hope’s End. They had found him in his office near the abandoned copper mines. He was slumped behind his desk, snoring loudly. He was a small, bony man with greasy gray hair and a face shriveled like a raisin. His clothes were soiled, and he stank like one of the dead rats Miette would sometimes leave as presents.
Mama gently shook him, and he roared to life, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing in my office?! Breaking and entering! I’ll sound for the police!” he yelled, his face bright red.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding. I am in need of a doctor,” Mama said.
“Then you should know better than to wake a slumbering man in such a fashion! Startled me near to death, you did.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be catnapping on the job,” Kitsy piped in with a mean stare. She did not like men talking to her mother in that tone.
“Kitsy,” Mama hissed under her breath, and Kitsy clamped her mouth shut.
Calming down, Dr. Malfae patted down his untidy hair and tightened his tie. “Well then,” he grumbled and sat back down behind his cluttered desk. Instead of asking about her symptoms, he demanded, “Do you have money to pay for an office visit?”
In shame, Mama shook her head. “But I can make payments. Or clean for you,” she suggested, looking around his pigsty of an office.
“Nope, nope, nope!” he exclaimed, furiously shaking his head and jumping to his feet again. “I only treat paying patients! Don’t come back until you can pay!” He ushered the family out the door then slammed it shut with a loud bang.
Kitsy banged her fists on the door. “You open up, you crotchety old geezer! You’re a doctor and doctors are supposed to help people! You help my mother! Give her the medicine she needs!” The Open sign in the window quickly flipped over to read Closed.
“Kitsy, that’s enough,” Mama said in a firm tone.
She whirled around ready to argue—they could make the doctor give them the medicine—but Mama looked so pale and tired and her breathing was so wretched that Kitsy couldn’t bring herself to upset her mom any further. The trio went home, but that night brother and sister hatched their plan to restore their mother’s health.
Mama asleep in her cot, the siblings turned their bedsheets into a tent with just a stub of a candle between them for light. In whispers, they conspired to do whatever they had to do to earn enough money to buy the medicine she needed. If that meant skipping school so they could work odd jobs or beg on the streets, so be it. They also promised—well, Kitsy made her brother promise—never to let Mama know what they were up to because it’d only upset her. And their plan had been working; they almost had enough for the doctor! That was until Mr. Kree took it all. Heartless old men, Dr. Malfae and Mr. Kree both!
Even though Kitsy and Teddy weren’t going to school today, they both got cleaned up. The children scrubbed themselves raw and red with cold water from the sink then got dressed. Kitsy shed her dingy nightgown and put on her best dress. It was white with ruffles and a violet ribbon that tied around the waist. One of Mama’s clients had given it to her last fall. As pretty as the dress was, it was tight across the chest and a bit too short. But it was still the nicest piece of clothing she owned.
The same nice lady also had a gray suit for Teddy. It was too big for him, but Teddy still wore it, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs and using a bit of string as a belt. In truth, the oversized clothes only made him even more adorable. Teddy looked just like one of those cupids you’d see on Valentine’s Day cards. Chubby chipmunk cheeks, a rosy complexion, and pouting pink lips. Not to mention Mama’s pretty blue eyes. Kitsy did not share her brother’s adorableness. She was a rather plain, unremarkable girl by appearance. Thin and pale with thick dark hair and brown eyes.
“Hold still!” she commanded as she tried to comb her brother’s wavy blond hair. He was fidgeting with their father’s old tweed cap. Teddy was never without that hat. He even slept with it, cuddled next to him like a teddy bear.
Teddy scowled at her (he hated having his hair combed) but stopped fidgeting.
“There,” she said, stepping back and admiring his shiny locks. Teddy promptly put the cap on his head—it fell over his ears—and stuck his tongue out at her.
Kitsy just shook her head at her brother. He could be such a brat. “Hurry up and put on your shoes. We have work to do.”
Kitsy quickly pulled her own hair back with a frayed purple ribbon, put on little white socks that were almost clean, then stuffed newspaper in the toes of Mama’s shoes before putting them on. She had outgrown her own shoes, and they didn’t have enough money for a new pair so she and Mama shared. She strapped an old, canvas satchel across her body, and they were ready.
Mama had already fallen asleep so each child kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Take care of her, Miette,” Kitsy whispered to the cat, and brother and sister were off.
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