“Um…do you want me to do something?” Lizabeth asked.
There was a knock on the cottage door.
“I’ll get it,” Lizabeth said. Here was a chance to be helpful without getting her hands too dirty.
She opened the door and gasped in horror. Crazy Mary was on the threshold! The long gray hair blowing wildly in the wind made her even more grotesque. Close up, her bony face was a spiderweb of wrinkles. She extended a clawlike hand. Reaching for her!
In the nick of time Lizabeth slammed the door. She leaned against the closed door, her heart thumping. Thank goodness she’d reacted fast and kept a madwoman out! Maybe that would make up for everything else.
“Lizabeth? Who was it?” Aunt Jean asked.
“Crazy Mary! I just managed to…” Lizabeth was still catching her breath. She looked at the Williamses, expecting praise.
“You slammed the door on her? Why did you—” Aunt Jean went to open the door. She looked out and sighed. “Too late. She’s running down the path.”
“But it was Crazy Mary!” Lizabeth said.
“She comes by sometimes, and I wrap up some food for her,” Aunt Jean said. “You shouldn’t have turned her away like that.”
“If she came here, she was hungry,” Uncle Tom said. “I wish you’d asked us. She’s just a sad old woman.”
“I thought…I thought keeping her out was the right thing to do.” No matter what Lizabeth did, she was getting everything wrong! It was embarrassing.
“She never comes in,” Kat said. “She takes the food and runs away.”
Now the Williamses thought she was uncharitable. But Crazy Mary was filthy and revolting! And crazy, which certainly could be dangerous. Maybe it was the Williamses who were wrong this time.
seven
Todd and Jamie raced ahead of Lizabeth and Kat as they walked to school. From Lighthouse Lane, they turned into William McKinley Road. Strange, they were the only ones on the street. Lizabeth wondered why she didn’t see the usual stream of children heading to school.
“We must be awfully late,” Kat said.
What did Kat expect, with chicken coops and kitchen cleanup and Crazy Mary! It had been the longest morning.
Kat tugged at her. “Come on, let’s run.”
Ladies weren’t supposed to dash helter-skelter down the street, Lizabeth thought, though that had never stopped Kat before. But Miss Cotter had all sorts of unpleasant punishments for lateness, like staying after school and washing the blackboard. So Lizabeth kept up with Kat. She held her long skirt out of the way, above her ankles. Actually, running was fun.
They stopped short on the front path to the school.
“Uh-oh,” Kat said.
Miss Cotter was standing at the entrance waiting for them. They had to be in big trouble!
“Sorry we’re late, Miss Cotter,” Kat gasped.
“Sorry, Miss Cotter,” Lizabeth said. “We couldn’t help it. We were attacked by some terrible chickens and—”
“I reached everyone who has a telephone,” Miss Cotter said, “but since you don’t have one at the lighthouse…” She looked harried. “I’m waiting for those I couldn’t call. The mayor did promise that all of Cape Light would get telephone service soon….”
Todd and Jamie were standing nearby with big grins on their faces. What was going on?
“School is closed, girls,” Miss Cotter continued. “There’s only a week left anyway, so it seems wisest.”
“Why, Miss Cotter?” Kat asked. “What happened?”
“The scarlet fever,” Miss Cotter said. “Mabel, the White twins, now Mark, and of course, your little cousin. Dr. Forbes said it’s best not to have big groups gathering together.”
“You mean school is over for the year?” Lizabeth asked.
Miss Cotter nodded. “I’m sorry. I feel dreadful about the children who didn’t have a chance to give their native culture reports. Maybe next term.”
Amanda would be thrilled to forget about her Pygmies, Lizabeth thought.
“Lizabeth, I hope your sister gets well soon. Give my best to your parents. Oh, and if you see any of your classmates coming to school, please head them off.”
“Yes, Miss Cotter.”
“Thank you, Miss Cotter.”
On the walk back to the lighthouse, Jamie was jumping up and down, chanting. “No more school, no more books! No more teacher’s dirty looks!”
“Stop it!” Kat pinched his arm.
“But school is over!” Jamie protested.
“There’s nothing to be happy about when people are sick,” Kat said sternly.
“Oh.” Jamie’s face fell.
“Do you think there’ll be an epidemic?” Todd asked.
“I think Miss Cotter is being cautious,” Kat said, “so that we don’t have one.”
A chill swept through Lizabeth. Classmates were out all the time with colds and sore throats and no one thought anything of it. If they closed the school because of scarlet fever, it must be serious. Lizabeth didn’t speak. Her only thoughts were of Tracy.
They walked back toward the lighthouse and even Todd and Jamie were quiet.
They passed the bait-and-tackle shed on Lighthouse Lane. Mabel was out in front sweeping up. Kat and Lizabeth stopped to say hello, but they didn’t get too close. Kat had a protective arm on Jamie’s shoulder, holding him at a distance.
“It’s all right,” Mabel said with a big smile. “I’m over it. Dr. Forbes said I’m not contagious anymore.”
Lizabeth looked her over carefully. Mabel seemed like her normal self. She was a little pale, but that could be from being indoors for such a long time.
“Was it awful?” Lizabeth asked.
“You know something? I don’t even remember the whole week,” Mabel said. “I was burning up and I stayed in bed and I felt terrible and then…I guess I slept a lot. It’s funny not to remember all those days.”
“I’m glad you’re all better,” Kat said.
“Oh, me, too! Now I can go out and play and go anywhere! And nobody in my family caught it, either.”
Tracy, too, will get better soon, Lizabeth thought. Poor little Tracy, she must be burning up and feeling miserable now. But it’ll be over soon.
She was so glad they’d run into Mabel! Now she could think about happier things. Like the Strawberry Festival. My goodness, May nineteenth was only nine days away! She’d better prepare to look her very best.
Friday went by and then Saturday. Lizabeth really tried to get used to living at Kat’s but it just wasn’t relaxing.
Everyone was always rushing from one job to another, from lighthouse repairs to clean-up duties. The vegetable garden, the chickens, coal brought in and out, water brought in and out. The Williamses took care of their old horse themselves, though keeping him in a livery stable would be so much easier! Even little Jamie had chores. Who’d ever imagine there was so much to be done around one little cottage?
Lizabeth did mean to be helpful, but the Williamses seemed to have a set routine.
“No, thanks. I think I’d better do it,” Kat said when Lizabeth halfheartedly volunteered to feed the chickens again.
On Sunday they went to church. After the service, Rose told them that her father had seen Tracy. There was no change yet.
Everything quieted down for the Sabbath. On Monday, the chores started all over again.
It was already Monday, May fourteenth, Lizabeth thought. Tracy had been sick for seven days. That had to mean her scarlet fever would be gone soon. Of course, Tracy would get well. Of course, she would! The Strawberry Festival was in five days and Tracy would be there, a little pale maybe, but stuffing herself with strawberry shortcake.
At the cottage that afternoon, Aunt Jean asked, “Do you like chicken, Lizabeth? I thought I’d fry some up for dinner. And maybe corn fritters.”
“That sounds delicious, Aunt Jean,” Lizabeth said. She might have liked that if she could stop thinking of those dirty creatures that had pecked at her! But
she was absolutely determined to be a considerate guest. “Delicious.”
A hesitant expression must have crossed her face, though, because then Aunt Jean asked, “Lizabeth, tell me. Is there anything else you’d like?”
“Aunt Jean, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to have a cucumber and a lemon.”
Aunt Jean smiled. “That’s fine. I’m going to the market now anyway.”
When Aunt Jean returned, she handed over the produce in a mesh bag. Lizabeth thought, perfect, I’ll have plenty of time. Kat was busy with another chore—something about weeding.
Lizabeth found the chopping block in the kitchen and sliced the cucumber. Then she squeezed the lemon into a small bowl. She took everything up to Kat’s room.
She poured the lemon juice over her hair. She brushed it through and wrapped her hair in a towel. Lemon juice helped to keep it blond. Her hair used to be as light as Tracy’s, but it had darkened over the years. By Strawberry Queen night, her hair would be golden and shimmering. Lemon juice would be more effective in sunlight, but that would mean taking a terrible chance of darkening her complexion or even getting freckles! That was why she carried a parasol everywhere.
Lizabeth sighed contentedly and lay down on the bed. She closed her eyes and covered them with cucumber slices. If she did this every day between now and the Strawberry Festival, there wouldn’t be the slightest hint of puffiness. The cool cucumber felt so good. In spite of the lumpy mattress, Lizabeth dozed off.
The door creaked open. “Dinner will be ready soon and if you’re going to fix the salad—” Kat’s voice.
Lizabeth sat up, startled. “Salad?”
“Lizabeth! What are you doing with that cucumber?”
Lizabeth removed the slices and blinked. “It’s a beauty secret, Kat. To make your eyes—”
“I don’t believe this. Ma was so pleased that you wanted to help out and make a salad. I thought I’d find you in the kitchen.”
“What salad?”
“Cucumber-and-lemon salad! Everyone assumed…What did you do with the lemon?”
“It’s in my hair. For blondness and shine.”
Kat rolled her eyes.
“What’s the matter now?” Lizabeth asked.
“That’s food, Lizabeth. We don’t use food for beauty secrets!” Kat shook her head and began to laugh. “Sometimes I think you’re from another universe. What are we going to tell Ma?”
“I have to beat the competition for Strawberry Queen, don’t I?” Lizabeth said. “I found a wonderful book at the Pelican. Beauty Secrets of the Ages. Everyone knows about biting your lips and pinching your cheeks to make them rosy. I have to do extra.”
“I think you’ve done enough extra!”
“Is there any nightshade growing around Durham Point?” Lizabeth asked.
“Deadly nightshade? No! I sure hope not,” Kat said.
“I read that if you put some in your eyes, it dilates the pupils and makes them look ever so large and shiny.”
“Nightshade is poison!” Kat said.
“I guess you’re supposed to use just the tiniest bit. Do you know the other name for nightshade? Belladonna. It means beautiful lady in Italian. That proves that it beautified a lot of ladies.” Lizabeth frowned. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to use the berries or the leaves. The book didn’t say.”
“I think there’s some poison ivy in the back that we couldn’t get rid of,” Kat said. “Do you have a beauty secret for that?”
“Don’t be silly!” Sometimes Kat was so immature!
“Lizabeth, this isn’t funny anymore. Nightshade is really poisonous.”
“I wouldn’t eat it. I’m talking about just a bit in my eyes.”
“I think you’d better stop reading that book.” Kat looked closely at Lizabeth. “You wouldn’t really use something dangerous, would you?”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of scaring me.” Lizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know exactly how to apply nightshade. But if I did, just for that one evening, for the Strawberry Festival….”
“Being Strawberry Queen can’t be that important to you,” Kat said.
“Anybody would want to be Strawberry Queen.”
“All right, it would be fun. I’m not saying anything against it—and I’d love to see you win—but you care so much, you’re talking about poisoning yourself!”
“It’s not only for Strawberry Queen,” Lizabeth said, “though that’s my dream, of course. It’s about being as pretty as I possibly can. So someone will fall madly in love with me.”
“There are lots of other reasons for someone to love you.”
“Prettiness is what counts, and if you think it doesn’t, that’s plain childish.”
Kat looked thoughtful. “It’s nice to feel pretty, but I wouldn’t for a minute want someone to love me for that. I’d want someone to love me for…well, my talent. And because I’m maybe funny, or adventurous, or brave sometimes. And mostly kindhearted.”
“You are all those things, Kat.”
“I mean, I’d expect more from someone who’s supposed to love me. More than, ‘Oh, good, she has nice shiny eyes.’”
That’s easy for Kat to say, Lizabeth thought, because she does have a special talent. And people are always drawn to her.
When Uncle Tom came in for dinner that night, he planted a kiss on Kat’s nose. “The best freckle, second from the right,” he said. “How’s my favorite daughter?”
“I’m your only daughter!”
“If I had ten more, you’d still be my favorite!”
The very same routine had been repeated every night since Lizabeth had been at Kat’s. Kat ducked her head when she noticed Lizabeth listening, probably feeling a little childish. But she has to be pleased, too, Lizabeth thought. Father would never be that affectionate with me or Tracy.
No one loves me that much. It’s a good thing I have big blue eyes, Lizabeth thought, and a wardrobe full of exquisite clothes. She pictured the Strawberry Queen dress hanging in her closet at home. Heavens, the Festival was just around the corner! Tracy might take longer than Mabel to get well. She’d better get that dress and have it ready at Kat’s.
At dinner Lizabeth dutifully nibbled at the fried chicken and corn fritters. She was grateful that no one said anything about another course. Except for Jamie, who piped up with, “When do we get the cucumber salad?” But Aunt Jean shushed him right away. And Uncle Tom’s lips twitched only a little, holding back his laughter. Kat must have warned her parents. So Lizabeth wasn’t too embarrassed and could keep her mind on making a plan. She’d just have to sneak into her room at home when everyone was asleep and grab the dress.
Tonight she’d climb up the rose trellis that led to the window of her room. Chris had used the side trellis more than once to sneak out. If it could hold him, it was certainly strong enough for her. But what if the Williamses caught her leaving the cottage? Or if her parents heard her? She’d be sent away to Pittsfield for sure! But she couldn’t do without that dress. She’d have to take the chance.
eight
It seemed to Lizabeth that the evening was stretching on and on. She sat with Kat during her lighthouse shift and worried about all the things that could go wrong. Uncle Tom would be in the lighthouse tower for the overnight shift. The most difficult moment would be leaving the cottage and getting onto the road unseen.
“You’re so fidgety tonight,” Kat said. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Lizabeth answered. She glanced at her cousin. Should she ask Kat for help? It would be so much easier with Kat for company. It might even be fun. After all, Kat was the adventurous one. She even stowed away on a fishing boat last year to go to Boston!
“Kat, I’m going to…” Lizabeth started. Then she bit her lip. Better not. Kat didn’t understand how very important the right dress was. She’d just say to wear something else. She’d talk her out of it.
“You’re going to what?” Kat asked.
“Nothing,” L
izabeth mumbled.
Finally the shift was over. Finally they got ready for bed. Kat burrowed into her bedroll. Lizabeth listened to the sound of her cousin’s breathing.
“Kat?” Lizabeth whispered.
No answer. Kat was definitely asleep.
Lizabeth got out of bed, pulled off her nightgown, and dressed in the dark. She groped for her shoes on the floor and almost bumped into Sunshine! She had forgotten all about the dog lying at Kat’s side. He raised his head. Please, don’t bark! “Good dog,” she whispered.
She stopped, held her breath, and waited. Kat continued to breathe evenly. Sunshine gazed at her but remained quietly at Kat’s side.
Lizabeth tiptoed out of the room and into the hall. Todd and Jamie had gone to bed earlier. There was no sound from their room.
The downstairs of the cottage was dark. Aunt Jean had to be asleep, too. She always went to sleep right after kitchen cleanup because she had to get up for the dawn lighthouse shift. Lizabeth counted on them all being too exhausted to wake up, what with all their endless chores. She slipped out the front door.
There was enough moonlight to see by. Lizabeth stayed close to the bushes along the front path, hoping to blend into the shadows. If she was lucky, Uncle Tom’s attention would be on the ocean now.
Lizabeth reached Lighthouse Lane. No commotion from the lighthouse. No one calling out her name.
She walked fast along Lighthouse Lane. At first, she was exhilarated that she’d made it. But then—it was so dark. Rustling sounds in the underbrush seemed to be following her. It had to be a rabbit. Or a squirrel. But what if there were stray dogs? Mean, hungry ones…She ran. She ran past the docks, past the boatyard, past the tackle-and-bait shed. Not one light was on. Not one person was out on the lane.
She ran until she was out of breath. She went back to walking fast. The road she’d known all her life was eerie in the moonlight. She tried to focus on the peaceful sound of the ocean lapping against the shore. But anything could be hiding in the shadows.
Please, God, I just want to go home.
She was relieved when she reached the paved section of Lighthouse Lane. Here were the nicest houses, houses more like hers.
Lizabeth's Story Page 5
