Ship of Dolls

by Shirley Parenteau

  Through her tears, Louise exclaimed, “I’ve looked everywhere already!”

  “Where?”

  “Here. In the rope. Over there by those boxes, in case she bounced out and rolled.”

  “That’s not everywhere. That’s not even a start!”

  “It’s no use. She’s gone!”

  “You’re giving up? You haven’t even looked and you’re giving up!” Lexie wanted to grab the other girl, to force her to her feet, to make her look. “Emily Grace is on this ship somewhere. Alone!” She had to be. Lexie couldn’t even let herself think of Emily Grace falling overboard.

  “Louise!” Mrs. Wilkins shrieked from the doorway to the cabins. “Louise Marie Wilkins! Come in out of the rain!”

  Louise jolted to her feet as if her mother had pulled her by a rope. “Find her!” she said, and ran toward the cabins.

  “You don’t give me orders,” Lexie yelled. There wasn’t any satisfaction in it. Wind whipped her hair and pulled at her coat. What was it doing to the doll?

  She looked out at white tips flying from the water. The doll wasn’t out there tossing from one to another. What was happening to Emily Grace? Think!

  There weren’t any dogs aboard to run off with her. The ship was heaving in the rough waves, but not enough to bounce the doll out. Not if she had really been settled in the coil of rope. Lexie made herself believe that even when they had crossed the bar, the doll wouldn’t have bounced overboard. The ropes would have held her.

  Unless she was never in the coil. Could Louise have left her on top and lied about it?

  Lexie didn’t think so. Louise had been too upset to lie about that, too shocked to find Emily Grace gone.

  Suppose a sailor had found the doll! He would have put her somewhere safe, wouldn’t he? Where? Lexie wondered if she should ask the captain, but she didn’t know where to find the captain. And it was raining harder. There was no time.

  She looked in one direction and then another and then along the rail toward the stern. Her search stopped at the door into the Grand Salon. She said softly to Annie inside her coat, “Wouldn’t the Grand Salon be a safe place where everybody would see Emily Grace sooner or later?”

  A sailor who found a doll left on deck with rain coming would think of that. He’d know that the owner would come through the Grand Salon eventually.

  “She’s there! She has to be!” With her heart singing, Lexie ran to the doorway and pushed it open. The salon was a warm space in the heart of the ship, with cushioned chairs around small tables and tufted benches wrapped around gleaming wooden support columns.

  And there was Emily Grace, on one of the benches. She was snuggled in the arms of that little girl, Millicent, the one whose mother had died in an accident. While Lexie watched, Millicent kissed Emily Grace’s rosy cheek. For the first time since Lexie had met her at lunch, Millicent was smiling.

  “I have to get the doll back,” Lexie whispered to Annie inside her coat. “Emily Grace is going to Japan. And she has to be kept nice. Louise should never have taken her on deck.”

  Stories ran through Lexie’s head as she tried to think of a way to explain what had happened so Millicent’s father would give her the doll. I could say a mean boy grabbed Emily Grace and ran off with her.

  No, she decided just as quickly. Grandma had talked about white lies. They might be told to make a problem better, but they could hurt somebody just the same. Mrs. Phipps had probably thought no one would be hurt when she said Louise’s poem was better. But that had hurt. It had hurt a lot!

  If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Phipps’s white lie, Emily Grace would be safe in her box in the ship’s hold with the rest of the dolls.

  As Lexie hesitated, Millicent’s father looked up and saw her. A sad look crossed his face, as if he’d known something unhappy would happen and here it was. “Your name is Electra, isn’t it? We met you at lunch. Is this your doll? We knew someone would be looking for her.”

  Slowly, Lexie crossed the salon. She couldn’t help seeing that Millicent held the doll even more tightly.

  The father glanced at the girl, then looked at Lexie again. “We found her left in a coil of rope on deck.”

  His voice said something more. His voice said, You didn’t take care of her and now she’s ours.

  “My . . . friend was playing with her,” Lexie said. “But she got seasick and put Emily Grace in the rope while she ran to the rail.”

  The father’s expression said he didn’t believe her. “Your friend should take better care of her toys.”

  “She was coming right back,” Lexie said quickly. “You probably just missed her. But she’s still sick, so I said I’d find Emily Grace.”

  Again she saw the father’s doubts in his eyes. He didn’t think there was a friend. He thought Lexie was talking about herself and that she had left the doll alone on deck. Again, she was getting the blame for something Louise had done. It wasn’t fair, and she felt heat rush through her. “You saw Louise at lunch, too. At the next table? Looking sick?”

  “That girl is your friend?” He frowned slightly, and Lexie remembered talking about Louise with Grandma in a not very friendly way.

  “Not exactly,” Lexie said, correcting herself. “Louise is in my class at school.” She motioned toward the doll. “That’s Emily Grace. She’s a Friendship Doll. She’s going to Japan with almost thirteen thousand other dolls.”

  Millicent looked around as if she expected to see dolls popping up all over the Grand Salon.

  “To Japan?” Mr. James asked.

  “Yes,” Lexie said. “They’re going to a festival in Japan so girls there will know that our lives might be different but that inside we are like them.” Mr. James was still frowning, and she tried again to explain. “Miss Tompkins, our teacher, said those girls and their families will remember the friendship, and our countries can be friends, too, even after we all grow up.”

  “There are thousands of dolls?” Like Millicent, Mr. James looked around the salon.

  Lexie wanted to grab Emily Grace and run to her cabin, but she couldn’t do that, so she continued to explain. “A lot of them are packed in boxes in the hold. The rest are already in San Francisco. Or they’re on their way there. There’s going to be a big party to tell the dolls good-​bye before they all leave on a ship for Japan.”

  “But this doll was on deck.” Mr. James frowned. She thought he almost believed her, but because of Millicent, he didn’t really want to.

  Lexie drew a quick breath, wishing Louise were here so she could watch her try to explain. “Emily Grace should be packed away, too, but Louise’s mother said she could carry her to San Francisco. She was supposed to keep her in the cabin, but she took her on deck and then she got seasick and left her in the pile of rope.”

  Millicent’s mouth turned down. She held Emily Grace tightly against her chest and watched Lexie as if wondering whether Lexie could catch her if she jumped up and ran. Lexie prepared to grab for the doll if the girl did try to run off with her.

  Mr. James said in a cheerful voice that didn’t hide his sadness, “Did you hear that, Millie? This doll is important. She’s going to travel all the way to Japan!”

  Millie held Emily Grace even tighter. She shook her head, not saying anything.

  “We’ll look up Japan on a map, Millie,” her father said gently. “It will be interesting to see how far she is going.”

  He lifted Emily Grace from his daughter’s arms, then spoke to the doll as if she could understand. “Millicent and I wish you well in your worthy endeavor, Emily Grace. Isn’t that right, Millie?”

  The little girl leaned forward with her face in her hands. Lexie felt awful. This was Louise’s fault. Why had she carried the doll on deck? And left her there!

  Mr. James held the doll out and Lexie took her, but she couldn’t stop looking at Millicent. The little girl’s shoulders were trembling. She must be crying silently. She didn’t talk. She must not even cry out loud.

  While carefully crad
ling Emily Grace, Lexie drew Annie from under her coat. She stepped closer to the little girl and held out the hand-​sewn doll. “Millie? This is my Annie. She’s soft and warm and very kind. And she’s used to tears. I had to go live with my grandparents, too, and I cried a lot at first. Annie understood.”

  Millie raised her head. Her blue eyes shimmered.

  “I found out my grandma and grandpa love me,” Lexie told her. “And I found out I love them, too. So I don’t need Annie so much.” She finished in a rush before she could think about what she was doing. “Here. You can have her. You can tell Annie anything. She’ll listen and she’s very, very loving.”

  The little girl hesitated, then grabbed Annie and hugged her close, pressing her cheek to the soft yarn hair.

  Her father watched for a moment, then said gently, “Annie may be kind, but I think someone here is even kinder. Are you sure you can let her go? As you say, the other doll . . . Emily Grace . . . will be leaving you for Japan.”

  “It’s all right.” And somehow it was. It was hard to see Annie all wrapped up in her pink knit scarf and held tightly by the other girl, but watching her made Lexie feel warm inside.

  “I have to go,” she said. “Grandma will be looking for me, and I need to put Emily Grace back where she belongs.”

  As Mr. James nodded, Millicent looked up and gave Lexie something better than a spoken thank-​you. She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled.

  Lexie smiled back, glad she had thought to give Annie to the girl. When she turned toward the door, she was surprised to see Grandma waiting there.

  Would she be mad? Lexie wondered suddenly. After all, Grandma was the one who had made Annie in the first place. And she had made the pink scarf after Lexie cut it up to try to make a dress for Emily Grace.

  If Grandma was angry, Lexie hoped she wouldn’t say anything that Millie and her father might hear. Holding Emily Grace close, she hurried across the salon.

  Grandma put one hand on her shoulder as she came close. Her eyes were gentle as she said, “That was generous of you, Electra. I’m proud of you. Grandpa would be, too.”

  Lexie felt even warmer inside. Looking back at Annie with Millicent didn’t hurt quite so much. She began to feel a little embarrassed, too, not sure how to answer Grandma. So as they stepped out on deck, she said, “Well, I had to get Emily Grace back so she can go to Japan.”

  “Why was that doll out here and not packed with the others?”

  “Louise had her.” All the unfairness of that rushed back, and Lexie finished, “She told her parents she needed to carry Emily Grace to San Francisco because that would make up for Jack and me ruining her special day!”

  Grandma clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I see.”

  “And then Louise got sick and left Emily Grace on deck and Millicent found her.” Lexie finished silently to herself, And when her mother finds out Louise left the doll on deck, she’s going to get in trouble, the way she deserves!

  Lexie took Emily Grace into the cabin to smooth her hair and straighten her skirts. Then she carried the doll down the narrow hallway to Louise’s cabin. She enjoyed imagining Louise’s face when her mother heard what had happened. She was going to hear it all: the deck, the coil of rope, having to take Emily Grace away from sad little Millicent.

  But with every step, her purpose began to fade. What did Louise matter when Mama was waiting in San Francisco? Maybe feeling seasick was punishment enough.

  She was still a few steps away when Mrs. Wilkins opened the cabin door and started to step out. Louise’s mother stopped when she saw Lexie. “The Friendship Doll? What are you doing with it?”

  Louise peeked from the cabin behind her. If anything, she looked even sicker.

  “Louise . . .” Lexie hesitated, then went on. “Louise let me hold her for a while. Now it’s time for Emily Grace to go back into her box.”

  “It certainly is.” Mrs. Wilkins snatched the doll and turned to her cabin. “Louise! Put this doll away. You were not given permission to let just anyone play with her.”

  Just anyone? Lexie felt slapped, though she shouldn’t have been surprised at anything Mrs. Wilkins decided to say.

  “Lexie’s not just anyone,” Louise said, surprising her. “She’s my friend.”

  No, I’m not! Lexie was glad she didn’t say those words aloud. She remembered hearing Louise telling the doll that her friends only cared for the candy she could buy them or that their fathers’ jobs depended on her father.

  You have to earn friendship, Lexie thought, but maybe Louise had been trying to earn her friendship when she defended Lexie to her mother. A few days ago, she wouldn’t have done that.

  Mrs. Wilkins’s mouth took on a pinched look, but before she could say anything more, Louise got an even stranger expression on her face. Then she threw up.

  Lexie jumped back, but it was too late for Mrs. Wilkins. As Lexie hurried away, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. After this, Mrs. Wilkins might be more careful about upsetting Louise.

  Sleeping in the narrow bunk aboard the ship was strange yet soothing. Lexie enjoyed a sense of floating as she listened to the rush of water against the hull and the distant, powerful rumble of the engine.

  All the next morning, she talked with sailors when one could spare a minute, or tossed crumbs to seagulls, or searched the blowing surf in the hope of glimpsing a mermaid. The shoreline slid along — rocky cliffs, houses nestled in coves, small sheltered bays with a few fishing boats, though most were at sea now with their trawling booms lowered.

  Everything fascinated Lexie, but part of her mind stayed with Mama.

  She pictured the dresses in Mama’s closet and mentally took out one after another, remembering when Mama had bought it, where she had worn it, and whether she would choose that one when she came to meet the ship.

  Millicent wasn’t at breakfast. Her father said she had slept well for the first time since her mother’s death. He filled plates for both of them and took them back to his cabin. At lunchtime, they came in together, Millicent cradling Annie in her arms.

  When her father seated her, Millicent carefully placed the doll on the chair beside her. The older woman next to her smiled and said, “What a sweet doll you have, dear. What is her name?”

  Lexie winced at the reminder that Millie didn’t talk. To her surprise, the little girl whispered, “Annie.”

  Both Grandma and Lexie looked at Millie’s father. His eyes glimmered, but he was smiling. “Annie is a very special doll, Electra.”

  “She is,” Lexie said, leaning around Grandma. “My grandma made her for me.”

  “Then she was made with love. She’s exactly what Millie needed.”

  “I’m glad,” Lexie said, and she was glad. She was proud of Annie, too. Annie knew her job and how to do it.

  At last, the ship turned toward land. When Lexie stood at the rail watching an inlet grow larger, a sailor paused beside her. “You won’t be seeing San Francisco Bay like this for long. They’re planning to build a bridge all the way from the rocks where the city ends to that wild point of land across the channel.”

  “How can they do that?” Lexie looked at the rough water crashing against the rocks at either side of the wide inlet to the bay. Wouldn’t waves sweep away any posts they tried to put in?

  “They’ll do it,” the sailor said before walking on. “They’re going to call it the Golden Gate.”

  “The Golden Gate,” Lexie repeated. She thought her eyes must be shining. She was sailing under an almost-​bridge called the Golden Gate on her way to Mama. She clutched the rail while they sailed into San Francisco Bay. Seagulls screeched overhead, diving and swooping.

  Lexie held the rail even tighter. She ached for her first glimpse of Mama.

  Ships of all sizes crowded the piers that jutted into the bay. Some had funnels. Masts rose from others, their sails furled. Excitement ran through all the passengers. The sense of waiting was over. People were gathering possessions and looking for newly m
ade friends to say good-​bye or to make plans to meet in the future.

  Everyone seemed to be talking at once. If possible, the excitement ran even higher as the ship eased to a space along a pier. Lexie squeezed over to make room for Grandma at the rail. “She’ll be wearing the pleated skirt and red top,” she told Grandma. “I’ve thought of all her outfits, and that’s what she’ll choose to wear. Because she knows it’s my favorite.”

  Grandma smiled and patted her hand. Lexie couldn’t stay still. She bounced on her toes as she looked from people crowding the rail to the throngs on the dock.

  People filled the wharf, waving, calling out, hurrying back and forth. People on the ship shouted and waved, too. The shouts on ship and shore got louder whenever anyone spotted a friend or relative.

  Lexie waved and shouted with the rest while she searched the people on the dock below. “Mama! Where are you? Do you see me? Wave if you do! I’m up here!”

  The noise crowded around her with the people. Gradually, Lexie became a silent island in the middle of it all. Mama was there somewhere. But she couldn’t see her. Lexie leaned hard against the rail, as if that would get her closer to the dock.

  The crew finished settling a gangplank in place. At last, passengers were allowed to go ashore. Lexie saw Louise and her mother pushing to the front of the line. Louise would be glad to feel solid ground beneath her feet.

  Never mind Louise. Lexie swept her gaze across the people on the dock again and again. So many people. So many strangers. She wanted to see Mama before joining all those people. Where was she?

  Fear swelled inside. Lexie knew her voice sounded shrill. She didn’t care. She wanted to scream like a three-​year-​old. “I don’t see her! Where’s Mama? Where is she?”

  The entire world had narrowed down to a crowded dock that to Lexie looked horribly empty. “Grandma, I can’t see her! Where is my mama?”

  Lexie screamed again, “Mama!”

  Grandma’s hand came warm and solid on her shoulder. “That flapper! I might have known —” She stopped herself, then said with an obvious effort to be patient, “She’s been delayed, I expect.”