The whole country was in love with the president’s beautiful oldest daughter, Alice; she was so lively and full of fun. Kat had read in the newspaper that Teddy Roosevelt himself had said, “I can do one of two things. I can be President of the United States or I can control Alice. I cannot possibly do both.” That had to be said with a smile, of course. Alice was the ideal American girl.
“It has a wonderfully wide skirt,” Lizabeth continued, “so when I swing around, it’ll twirl and twirl. It has the tiniest tucks in the front. And I’m getting a rat for my hair.”
“A rat?” Grace laughed. “Watch it doesn’t bite you!”
“You know what I mean,” Lizabeth said impatiently. “That padding to puff up my hair on top for a pompadour.”
“Momma says pompadours are for older girls,” Joanna said.
“I don’t care—I’m having one for the dance,” Lizabeth said.
Lizabeth was in a hurry to grow up, Kat thought. Next thing, she’d be lacing herself up in corsets! How could Ma and Aunt Sue move—or even breathe—in them?
“What are you wearing, Kat?” Lizabeth asked.
Kat shrugged. She didn’t care much about fashion. Lizabeth would get all excited about her new dresses, made by a dressmaker with special fabric from the city. Amanda ordered hers from Sears and Montgomery Ward. She loved looking through the catalogs. Ma made Kat’s dresses from Butterick patterns. She always picked the most durable fabrics from the bolts at the general store.
“My Sunday dress, I guess.” Kat hadn’t given it much thought before. But was it too plain? “You know the striped one with the pinafore? Do you think—”
“Lizabeth and Katherine!” Miss Cotter called. “I see your mouths moving but not your needles.”
At recess on Wednesday, Amanda was helping Hannah and her friends skip rope.
Kat roamed the schoolyard with Lizabeth and Grace. She spotted James with the big boys who were playing mumblety-peg.
“James!” she called. He knew he wasn’t allowed to play that game! He was too young to be flipping a pocket knife. There was a chance he’d flip it right into his foot instead of the ground!
James made a pleading face at her, but Kat shook her head “no.” She kept her eye on him until he wandered over to see Roger’s new wooden top.
“…and gray suede boots with tiny little buttons going past my ankle and…” Grace was saying.
They were still talking about clothes. What a waste of recess! Soon it would be too cold to play outdoors.
“See you later.” Kat headed for a group playing tag.
Lizabeth followed her. “Wait, Kat. I was thinking…I have a new dress. It’s sort of jade green and it’s really pretty, with the nicest ruffle at the bottom,” Lizabeth said. “But the color’s all wrong for me. It makes me look pale as a ghost.”
What was Lizabeth talking about? She looked perfectly fine in green.
“It’s a perfect color for you, though,” Lizabeth continued. “Want to have it? You could wear it to the dance.”
“Your dress?”
“I’ll bring it to school for you tomorrow,” Lizabeth said. “I can’t wait to see how you look in it!”
“Thank you!” Kat gave her cousin a big hug. “Thank you, Lizabeth!” Kat didn’t care much about clothes, not really. But when she heard Amanda and Lizabeth talking about their new dresses this morning…it would be nice to have a new dress to wear. And all of Lizabeth’s things were so pretty!
Finally, it was Saturday night!
Lizabeth’s dress was the most wonderful color, Kat thought, as if she’d mixed vermilion green with just a touch of cerulean blue. It had a deep ruffle at the bottom that swished around her feet. Kat couldn’t help stroking the fabric—it was the smoothest, softest wool. It fit perfectly, too. It made her feel…well, different, in a new, good way.
Now that she was almost thirteen, it wouldn’t hurt to do something more than braids, would it? That beautiful dress needed something more. Not a pompadour, but…
“Ma, would you curl my hair?”
Ma looked pleased. “You’ve never let me before. You really have beautiful hair, Kat. Come into the kitchen.”
Ma heated the curling iron in the stove and wound strands of Kat’s hair around it. Ugh, that thing was hot and it pulled and took forever.
“No more!” Kat said.
“I can’t stop now,” Ma said. “You can’t have one side curled and the other straight.”
“All right,” Kat grumbled. “Are we almost finished?”
“Almost.” Ma smiled. “They say you have to suffer for beauty.”
“Almost” took a long time—but when Ma was done, Kat’s hair flowed down her back in long, soft ringlets. As she entered the barn with Ma, Todd, and James, she found herself walking more slowly, letting the ruffle flutter gently around her legs. She felt pretty!
She heard the toe-tapping music and the fiddler calling, “Swing in the center, then break that pair; lady goes on, and gent stays there….”
Papa met them at the door. He took Ma’s hand and whirled her into the square dance. He was a surprisingly graceful dancer, even with his limp. Todd and James rushed to join the crowd at the long table on the side. It was piled high from end to end: potato salad, cole slaw, fried fish, fried chicken, beef hash, green beans, baked beans, a whole ham, deep-dish apple pie (that was Ma’s), peach cobbler, and on and on. James was helping himself to a huge chunk of Mrs. White’s famous lemon meringue pie. Out of Ma’s sight, he always went straight for dessert.
Kat made her way through the barn, skirting around the lively dancers. The reverend was swinging a thrilled, laughing Hannah off her feet. Neighbors mingled on the sidelines and little children spun each other around with abandon. She said hello to many freshly scrubbed classmates and quickly found Amanda and Lizabeth.
“I don’t think he’ll be here,” Amanda was saying.
“Well, he is,” Lizabeth said. “Right there!”
Kat followed her glance. There was that boy from church standing across the room. He was tall, with brown hair and a firm chin. Amanda was right—he was handsome!
“Don’t look,” Amanda pleaded.
“He’s staring at you,” Kat said.
“Is he? Don’t look, Kat!”
“And…he’s coming over!” Kat said. She heard Amanda catch her breath.
And then he stood in front of them. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Amanda looked at him, looked down, looked at him, looked away. If they’re both going to be that shy, Kat thought, we’ll be standing here in total silence forever!
“Hello, I’m Kat,” she said.
“And I’m Lizabeth.”
“I’m Amanda.” Her words came out breathlessly.
“I know,” he said. “Amanda Morgan. I—uh—found out.”
Amanda blushed.
There was a long pause.
“You must have a name, too,” Kat finally said to the boy.
“I…um…”
Had he forgotten his own name, Kat wondered. She and Lizabeth could have been invisible. His eyes were glued to Amanda.
“Um…do you think…um…Would you like to dance?” he asked.
Amanda nodded. She seemed to have lost the ability to speak, too. Kat grinned as she watched him take Amanda’s hand and lead her to the dance area.
“Well, he’s handsome,” Lizabeth said. “I’ll say that much for him.”
“They look nice together,” Kat said. “But does love have to make you senseless?” Both girls giggled.
Kat would have kept watching them, but Billy from school asked her to dance. Then Mark, the blacksmith’s son, who’d been her friend forever. Promenade. Do-si-do. Kat danced and danced, with Papa and then with Todd. With Mr. Thomas from the general store and more friends from school. To “Turkey in the Straw.” To “The Arkansas Traveler.” “Allemande left and allemande right,” the fiddler called. Kat whirled and twirled, hair flying behind her, loving every minute of it. Fina
lly, flushed and perspiring, she collapsed on a chair at the side.
That’s when she saw Amanda. She was still dancing with that boy, in the center of the Virginia reel line. Her smile was radiant. Everything about Amanda was shining.
Kat wished she had someone to like, too. Someone she hadn’t known her whole life, someone who could make her glow like that.
Lizabeth collapsed on the chair next to Kat’s. Strands of hair were escaping from her pompadour. “I had the best time, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Kat glanced around the barn. It was emptying out. Soon Papa would be taking them home. Some of the women were gathering their pots and dishes. Her gaze stopped at a boy standing next to her cousin Christopher. She’d never seen him before. His eyes were a startling blue.
“Who’s that?” Kat asked. “With your brother?” He had the blackest, shiniest hair.
“Oh, that’s Michael,” Lizabeth said. “Chris’s friend from Cranberry. He’s staying over this weekend.”
Kat wished she had seen him earlier. She wished he had asked her to dance.
The next day the girls gathered in the tower. Half of the fun of the dance was talking about it later!
Amanda sat on the rag rug with her smoke-gray Sunday skirt billowing out all around her. “…and his name is Jed Langford,” she was saying. “Isn’t that the most beautiful name you ever heard?”
“It’s a name, Amanda.” Lizabeth had picked the chair nearest the warm stove. Kat was stoking the coals. It was cold even in the daytime now.
“He has four older brothers,” Amanda went on, “and he is a deckhand, but he plans to be the captain of his own ship someday.” Her eyes were glowing green. “And he has a pet goat and—”
“He seemed awfully shy last night,” Lizabeth said.
“Oh, no, not at all—not once we got to talking,” Amanda said.
“Looks like someone is going to come courting,” Kat teased.
“Father would never allow that.” Amanda’s face fell. “I’m too young for courting. Not until I’m at least fifteen.”
They had dozens of other things to talk about, but there was one sentence that Kat replayed in her mind later, over and over again.
“Michael asked Chris about you last night,” Lizabeth had told her.
“He did?” Kat shrugged. She tried to sound just mildly curious. “What did he say?”
“‘Who was that pretty redhead with your sister?’”
“He said that?”
“His exact words.”
Who was that pretty redhead! Kat hugged the words to herself. That was me! Cranberry was close by. Maybe, cross her fingers, maybe she would see Michael again.
eight
By early November, it was freezing. Kat rushed home from school. She kept her hands in her coat pockets, but her fingertips still felt frozen. Mitten weather, she thought. She’d have to remember to wear them to school tomorrow.
She ran into the cottage, thinking of the blazing logs that would be in the fireplace. The door banged shut behind her.
“Kat,” Ma said, “please don’t slam the door.”
“Oops, sorry.” She didn’t want to think about how often she’d been reminded to close the door quietly.
“You left your scarf and mittens home again.”
“I know. I forgot.” Kat shrugged off her coat.
“Where are the boys?”
“Coming along the lane. They’ve been dawdling all the way.”
“I received a lovely gift from the Carstairses.” Ma opened a white cardboard box. “Look at this tablecloth, Kat. Isn’t it lovely? Please don’t touch unless your hands are absolutely clean. They shouldn’t have; it wasn’t at all necessary.”
“It’s really beautiful,” Kat said. The fine beige linen had delicate lace inserts.
“And they sent something for you, too. On your bed.”
“For me?” Kat ran up the stairs two at a time. The box on her bed was covered by the most beautiful paper, gold with red and blue designs. She’d never seen such fancy gift paper. In Cape Light, people wrapped presents in white paper from the general store or the bookshop.
Kat couldn’t wait to open the package—but she did it slowly so she wouldn’t tear that special paper, Then she folded it carefully to save it. A box of chocolates! Before dinner? Oh, well. She couldn’t resist.
She popped a chocolate into her mouth. Mmmm, it had a delicious creamy filling that tasted of vanilla. Then another. This one had a different filling, cherry. She wanted to try them all, though she knew she really should save some for her family. Maybe just one more, just to see…That’s when she noticed the envelope. A letter from the Carstairses!
Dear Katherine,
There is really no way to thank you for saving our lives. We owe everything to your quick thinking and courage.
We were most impressed by how very bright, talented, and curious you are. A close friend of ours is the headmaster of the Bartholomew School in Boston and we told him all about you. The Bartholomew School is well known for excellence and has an extremely selective admittance process. However, the headmaster agreed to admit you for the January semester if you would like to go. The school has challenging academics and an outstanding art program—we thought that might be of special interest to you.
They would waive room and board; that leaves the tuition of $50 per semester. Your tuition and the enclosed application, to be sent directly to the school, would be due by December 15th to hold a place for you for January. Of course, you’ll want to talk this over with your parents and we’d be happy to answer any questions.
If you would rather remain in your school in Cape Light, we still hope that you’ll visit us in Boston. We’d be delighted to welcome you to our city and our home.
With sincerest thanks,
Evelyn and Kenneth Carstairs
Katherine sat on her bed, stunned. She read the Carstairses’ words again. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Then she jumped up. “Ma! Papa! Everybody!” she screamed.
She heard Papa running toward the stairs. “Kat? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” She raced down. Sunshine ran toward her, barking. “Everything’s right! Everything’s wonderful!”
Papa, Ma, Todd, and James had gathered at the foot of the stairs. “What?” “What is it?” “Kat, say something!”
“Papa, read this!” Kat’s hand was shaking as she handed him the letter.
Papa read it. He frowned and silently passed it to Ma.
“What happened?” Todd said. “Isn’t anyone going to tell me?” He grabbed the letter from Ma when she finished.
“That’s a very nice gesture,” Papa said. “But—”
“You’re so young; you belong here with your family,” Ma said. “Kat, write them a note. Say you appreciate the thought—”
“Appreciate the thought?” Kat exploded. “I’m going to Boston!”
“Kat, you know that’s impossible,” Papa’s voice had become very quiet.
“It’s not impossible! It’s my dream come true!” Kat looked at their faces. “Why isn’t everyone happy?”
“I’m happy,” James piped up.
“I just wish they’d written to us first,” Ma said, “instead of getting you all excited.”
“Of course I’m excited! Why shouldn’t I be?” Kat trailed Papa and Ma to the kitchen table. “They said they’ll answer any questions you have….”
James wandered away. Todd stayed in the doorway, listening.
“Fifty dollars for tuition. And that’s just for one semester.” Papa sighed as he sank into his chair. “Kat, we don’t have that kind of money.”
“Even if we were willing to send you so far away,” Ma added.
“But Papa, they’ll waive my room and board!” Kat sat down opposite him. “You read the letter. There’s an outstanding art program! I’ll get art training—the training I need and—and I’ll live in a big city and I’ll…it’s everything I’ve alway
s wanted!”
“What about the lighthouse?” Ma said. “We do need you here.”
“I could take Kat’s shift,” Todd said. “If she went to Boston.”
Kat looked at Todd gratefully. She knew he’d much rather read or play in his room. He was on her side.
“No, Kat. I can’t pay for a private school,” Papa said.
“It’s my big opportunity!” Kat said. “You can’t take it away from me! You can’t!”
“Do you think I want to take anything away from you? Don’t you know I’d give you the moon if I could?”
Kat had never seen her father look so defeated. It broke her heart to see it. She knew she should stop now—but she couldn’t.
“All I’m asking for is a good school and—and a chance to make something of myself! Fifty dollars. That’s not the moon!”
“I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful. Stop badgering your father right now.” Ma had placed a protective hand on Papa’s shoulder. “You can make something of yourself without the Bartholomew School.”
“But I have to go!”
“We get the cottage for free because we’re the lighthouse keepers.” Papa sounded very tired. “But we’re responsible for maintaining it—you know that. And some months our stipend barely stretches to cover our expenses.”
“But they’ll waive room and board—”
“I’m sorry. The answer is no. End of discussion.”
Kat didn’t want to make her father feel bad but she couldn’t give up. “We can save fifty dollars somehow, there must be a way and—”
“That’s enough, Kat! Leave your father alone,” Ma said. “And I’ll eat clam chowder every night of the week, I don’t care, I don’t need clothes or—”
“Katherine, I’ve always provided for this family!” Papa’s voice had turned icy. He never called her “Katherine” unless he was furious. “There’s always food on the table and shoes for my children. You’ve never wanted for anything!”
“I didn’t mean…” Kat whispered. “I just thought…there must be a way we can—”
“Enough!” Papa thundered.
Two red circles formed on Kat’s cheeks. She had hurt Papa’s pride and she felt guilty. But he was hurting her, too. He wouldn’t even listen!
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