“I’m sorry,” Lizabeth repeated. Pity had almost replaced her fear.
“What do you know? I waited at the dock. September fourteenth, 1900. I waited and waited. The other boats came in and I waited. What do you know about grief?”
“Nothing, but…” Lizabeth took a breath. “My little sister has scarlet fever. Tracy. She’s only four. Tonight she was saying things. Things that didn’t make sense. What does that mean?”
“Pshaw! What makes sense and what don’t? Makes no difference.” Crazy Mary laughed. “I don’t give two figs for sense.”
“I’m scared for her,” Lizabeth said. She was talking only to herself now. “I’m scared.”
“You’re a young one. Are you a friend to my Kevin?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t know Kevin.”
“He’s the one with the nice smile. The girls are crazy for him. You know who I mean? The one with the dimples. You can’t miss him.”
“I don’t know him.”
Crazy Mary stared at Lizabeth. “What’s your mother think, sending you out like that? Barefoot and a ripped-up dress! Hair like a rat’s nest. I don’t send my boys out like that!”
Lizabeth shrugged.
“I’m turning in,” Crazy Mary said, “I have my rounds to make first thing in the morning. You can stay, but if you make any noise I’m sending you right out in the storm. No shenanigans, mark my word!”
“Yes, Mrs. Dellrow.”
“They call me Mary,” she mumbled.
Lizabeth took a far corner and rested on the floor against the wall. The blanket smelled terrible, but it kept her warm.
“Wake up if you want to eat!” Mary nudged Lizabeth with her toe. “Don’t think I’m serving breakfast in bed.”
Lizabeth couldn’t believe that she had managed to sleep—and with Crazy Mary nearby—but light was now seeping around the edges of the door. It was morning!
“Shake a leg. I’m hungry,” Mary said.
Lizabeth’s stomach was grumbling. She had hardly eaten the chicken at Kat’s last night. Now she’d give anything for a piece of it. She wondered what Mary did for food.
The old woman beckoned impatiently. Lizabeth combed her fingers through her hair and followed Mary out of the hut.
It was just dawn. The chill of the night was already gone. It would be an unseasonably warm May day. Lizabeth’s clothes were still wet, and she was grateful to feel the first rays of the sun.
Lizabeth followed Mary along Wharf Way. She was still barefoot and limping, but her heel didn’t hurt as much anymore. She felt so much better. A night of sleep had healed her. We Merchant girls, she thought, we recover fast. Tracy, too, would be better this morning.
They passed the bustling docks. They were full of activity: men loading boats, calling to each other, hoisting sails.
In contrast, Lighthouse Lane was sleepy and deserted at this early hour. Mary loped along toward the center of town and Lizabeth followed, puzzled. They reached the village green. The stores around the square were still closed.
“Quick before they spot us,” Mary said. “Got a late start this morning!”
She led Lizabeth behind the bakery on East Street, where waste bins were lined up in the alley.
“He throws out stale things,” Mary said. “The best pickings are in here.” She waded into the garbage.
No, I’m not eating garbage, Lizabeth thought. But she was so hungry. The tantalizing aromas from the back door of the bakery made her mouth water. Mr. Witherspoon must be at the ovens now, she thought, preparing the day’s goods.
If I’m going to eat today, Lizabeth thought, maybe this is it. Maybe I have to. How quickly life could change!
Then she noticed that Mary had taken a paper-wrapped packet from the top of the bin. Who wraps garbage? It contained three rolls.
“No doughnuts,” Mary grumbled. “On good days, I find a doughnut.”
When Mary offered Lizabeth a roll, she took it, hesitated for just a moment, and bit in.
The roll wasn’t stale at all. The caraway-sprinkled crust was crisp, the inside was soft, and Lizabeth suspected it was still warm from the oven. Lizabeth was sure Mr. Witherspoon had put it out especially for Mary, even if she didn’t realize that.
The same thing happened when they explored the garbage behind the general store. A carefully covered wedge of cheddar was waiting on top. Lizabeth broke off a piece. It tasted fresh from the wheel in the store. Cranky old Mr. Thomas must have been thinking of Mary, too. The people of Cape Light were so kind!
Mary gummed the cheese with smacking sounds. She dismissed Lizabeth with a wave of her hand. “Go on your way now. I have things to do.”
“Thank you,” Lizabeth said, “for everything.”
Mary didn’t answer. Lizabeth watched the old woman shuffle down the alley in her torn, oversized shoes. A last glimpse of flying, disheveled gray hair, and Mary disappeared around a corner.
Lizabeth wandered toward the village green. She saw Mr. Hardy unlocking the door of the telegraph office. Cape Light was coming to life. If anyone noticed her barefoot and ragged, there’d be questions to answer. Someone would surely tell her parents. She’d have to stay out of sight. After dark she would go to see Tracy again. What could she do until evening?
It was a long and lonely day. Lizabeth walked aimlessly on a little-used road in the direction of Potter’s Orchard, but the sound of a horse and carriage made her duck behind a briar bush. After it was safely past, she headed the other way toward Durham Point. She went by the salt marsh. She was walking in circles. Hours must have passed. The sun was high in the sky now. Her clothes were almost dry.
Hunger told her that it had to be lunchtime.
Lizabeth sat down on an old pine trunk felled by a long-ago storm. It was crumbly and covered with lichens. Twittering birds were loud. Nuthatches? Chickadees? She didn’t know one bird call from another. Even the birds had each other for company, she thought. She had no one.
Another day of my walkabout, she thought. No one to meet but myself. Hello Lizabeth, this is who you are. Food, shelter, family, and friends are all you need. This is what’s real. The girl who pretended to be dumb and got into knots over a beauty event and complained about lighthouse discomforts was gone, someone she hardly remembered.
She was so hungry! She dreamed of roast beef and lemon meringue pie, and her mouth watered. Any kind of food would do. A crust of bread, anything. She decided to chance going into town to see what she could forage.
At the town square she kept to the shadows in the back alleys.
“Lizabeth! Lizabeth!” It was Kat’s voice calling from the street. She sounded tearful. “I didn’t mean anything I said. Not a word! Lizabeth, if you can hear me…”
“Lizabeth!” Amanda called. “Lizabeth, where are you?”
They were looking for her! And poor Kat thought she’d disappeared because of their fight. She wanted to reassure her. She wanted so badly to run to them!
No, she couldn’t! Kat and Amanda might tell Mother and Father. She couldn’t blame them. When Kat had stowed away to Boston last year, Lizabeth had broken her promise not to tell because she thought Kat was in danger. She’d thought it was the right thing to do. Kat and Amanda might feel the same way.
Lizabeth couldn’t let anything stop her from seeing Tracy tonight. She had to see Tracy no matter what! So she hid behind a barrel in the alley until Kat’s and Amanda’s voices faded away toward North Street. And she was left twice as lonely.
She found nothing in the bins but half a wormy peach and a slice of bread green with mildew. She gagged. All right; she’d go hungry today. One day wasn’t that long.
When it was twilight, Lizabeth crept back to the village green. There were only a few stragglers left. She saw Mr. Thomas lock up the general store. The old men had deserted the bench in front of the courthouse. She’d sit there and wait until it was dark enough to climb the trellis. Soon…
She was crossing the green when she saw two familiar
figures. Chris and Rose! Together—and holding hands! Lizabeth ducked behind the statue of the lost fisherman. She peeked out at them.
Chris and Rose went to the bench and sat down. And then—Lizabeth couldn’t believe her eyes! Chris sat slumped with his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. Rose had a comforting arm around him.
He was crying! Impossible. Boys and men didn’t cry. Chris certainly never cried. But that’s what she was seeing. Something must have happened. Something terrible. Tracy!
thirteen
Lizabeth ran to Rose and Chris.
“Tracy? What is it? What happened?” she asked.
Chris and Rose looked up, startled. “Nothing,” Chris mumbled.
“You were crying!” Lizabeth said.
Chris looked furious and embarrassed. “She’s my little sister, too, you know.”
“Where were you? We were all looking for you,” Rose said. “Your aunt didn’t have the heart to tell your mother. Not when she’s so worried about—”
“What happened to you?” Chris seem shocked at her appearance. “Where are your shoes?”
“What did you hear about Tracy?” Lizabeth interrupted.
Rose reached for Lizabeth’s hand. “She’s not doing well.”
Chris’s voice was ragged. “Dr. Forbes says it’s critical.”
Lizabeth gasped. “I saw her last night and she—”
“How did you see her? The quarantine…” Chris said.
“I sneaked in last night and the night before,” Lizabeth told them. “I had to! I’m just waiting for dark to go back.”
Chris wiped his eyes roughly. “And you exposed yourself? I’ve been wanting to see her, I’ve thought of nothing else—didn’t you give a thought to Mother and Father? If you catch it, too…”
“I had to—” Lizabeth repeated.
“Of all the stupid—” he started.
“Leave her alone,” Rose’s eyes were sad and gentle. “She feels as bad as you do.”
“Well, you don’t have to sneak in tonight,” Chris said. “You can go in the front door.”
“I can’t. They’ll send me away to Pittsfield.”
“You’ve been exposed already! You think they’ll send you to infect our uncle and aunt?”
“Oh,” Lizabeth said. “I never thought of that.”
“You never thought at all.” Chris sounded both angry and miserable. “You picked a great time to go missing!”
“How…how bad is Tracy?” Lizabeth asked.
“Bad,” Chris said.
“Oh, Chris,” Rose said. “There’s always hope.”
Her big brother had been crying! Lizabeth was terrified. She ran all the way home and burst through the front door. Mother, Father, and Dr. Forbes met her in the hallway. They stared at her, shocked.
“Lizabeth! You can’t come in!” Mother’s eyes were red and swollen.
“What are you doing? Go back to the lighthouse!” Though Father was shouting, he couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. “Immediately!”
“I’m here to see Tracy. How is she? I need to see her.”
“Don’t you understand?” Mother said. “She’s contagious.”
“I’ve been with her. Last night and the night before. So it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Let me see her. Please.”
“Not you, too,” Mother moaned. “I can’t stand it.” She held a glass of water, her hand shaking so that it threatened to spill. She looked at Dr. Forbes.
“If Lizabeth was already in Tracy’s room,” Dr. Forbes said slowly, “I suppose she could…. Under the-circumstances…” He looked exhausted.
“She’s been calling for you,” Father said. “Maybe seeing her sister…”
“I…I was just taking this up,” Mother said.
“I’ll take it.” Lizabeth grabbed the glass. She hurried to the stairs before anyone could change their mind. She wanted to run, but the water forced her to move slowly.
Halfway up, she heard Father roaring at Dr. Forbes. “Can’t you do something? Try leeches! Remove the bad blood.” He was so used to being in control.
“I don’t believe in leeches, Mr. Merchant.” Dr. Forbes said quietly. “I won’t torment her.”
“Do something!” Father raged in his helplessness.
“Stanton, please,” Mother sobbed.
“The only thing is to keep her hydrated and comfortable,” Dr. Forbes said. “We have to wait. We have to hope the fever will break by morning.”
Lizabeth felt Father’s rage. Why wasn’t there medicine for scarlet fever? Why? It was 1906! New things were being discovered all the time!
She entered Tracy’s room. Tracy looked so terribly flushed against the white sheets.
“Tracy?”
“Lillibet,” Tracy whispered her long-ago baby pronunciation. Her voice was just a breath. Lizabeth had to bend over to hear. “You came back.”
“I’m here.” She wasn’t delirious! She wasn’t! That had to mean she was better.
“I knew you would come back,” Tracy whispered. “I waited for you.”
“Do you want water?” Lizabeth asked. “See, I brought some up for you.”
Tracy shook her head slowly. She seemed too weak to even do that much. But her dark blue eyes were aware. Tracy was back from that faraway place!
“Just a sip?”
“No, no more,” Tracy sighed.
“Maybe a little later.” With her finger, Lizabeth placed a drop on the parched lips and rested the glass on the nightstand.
Tracy’s lips flickered into the trace of a smile. “I knew you’d come back.”
“Nothing could keep me away,” Lizabeth said. “Nothing in the whole world.”
Tracy moaned. “I’m hot and then I’m shivery and then I’m hot.”
“Oh, I know.” Please, God, she’s only a little girl!
“Lillibet,” Tracy whispered, “stay with me.”
“I will,” Lizabeth promised. “I love you, pussycat.” She took Tracy’s tiny hand. “I love you.”
Tracy’s eyelids fluttered closed.
There was another sigh; a deep sigh that seemed to rattle Tracy’s small body. Her hand suddenly went limp in Lizabeth’s.
“Tracy.” Lizabeth shook her arm. “Tracy, wake up.” Over and over again, she repeated, “Tracy. No, Tracy, come back. Tracy!”
But she knew, as surely as she knew anything, that she had just seen Tracy’s spirit escape.
“Mother! Mother!” someone screamed. “Mother!” It was a while before Lizabeth realized it was her own voice.
fourteen
Lizabeth stumbled on the stone steps in front of the church. If Father hadn’t been holding her arm, she would have fallen.
The church was a simple white clapboard building that, except for the spire, blended into its surroundings. Inside, plain white walls surrounded rows of oak benches. Their armrests had been lovingly hand-carved by parishioners, with no two designs alike. This was the place where Lizabeth had always felt peace and harmony.
Tall windows gave an impression of airiness. In winter the snow outside reflected light into the long, narrow room. Today, on this nineteenth day of May, soft sunlight shone through the glass.
The many empty pews were obvious. People were afraid to gather in large groups.
Lizabeth allowed Father to guide her to a seat next to Mother. There was no peace and harmony here today. There was a small white casket. It was terribly wrong, Lizabeth thought. Such a small casket was an insult to the order of the world. It was covered with white lilies. Their heavy scent became nauseating.
Reverend Morgan spoke. Lizabeth watched his lips move. She couldn’t take in his words. She was numb. Everything seemed to click by like disconnected slides in a stereoscope.
The too-tight unfamiliar black crepe dress.
Ada’s round tear-stained face at the back of the church.
Father’s sobs. “Such a short time. I wish I’d—” He had aged overnight. “We had her for such a
short time.”
Mother, deathly still in the pew next to him, her face white and haunted.
Her friends on the stone steps outside. Amanda, Kat, and Rose. Their painful, awkward silence. Kat saying, “You know I loved her, too.” Rose saying, “I’m so sorry.” Amanda’s hug, tears in Amanda’s eyes. “I know, oh Lizabeth, I know.”
Lizabeth didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She was numb.
The gravesite. “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” Reverend Morgan’s anguished eyes.
She and Christopher, clutching each other’s hands, brother and sister as lost as Hansel and Gretel trying to find a path home.
Chill winds blew into the wide open windows of Lizabeth’s house. They were airing out, grimly following Dr. Forbes’s instructions. He thought scarlet fever came from airborne germs, though no one knew for sure. They burned Tracy’s bedclothes. Lizabeth hated all of it, hated the feeling that they were dispersing the last bits of Tracy.
Later a sprinkling of neighbors and friends came into the parlor. Others, still afraid to enter the Merchant house, left offerings on the porch. Covered dishes, more than an army could ever need. Then, finally, quiet. Lizabeth, Chris, Mother, and Father sat at the table over untouched food. Tracy’s chair was empty.
When Lizabeth went up the stairs to bed, Father was still sitting at the table, staring hopelessly into space.
The sleep that overwhelmed Lizabeth was welcome. She burrowed into its dark, unthinking depth.
Lizabeth woke up in her own lavender-and-white room, on her own smooth sheets, with a sigh of pleasure. She stretched comfortably. It felt as though she’d been away for a long time….
“Lizabeth! Lizabeth! I’m ready!” Tracy’s excited voice preceded her down the hall, and soon she burst through Lizabeth’s door.
Lizabeth smiled. Tracy’s curls still needed brushing and the red bow perched on her head was crooked, but she looked so sweet in the navy-and-red plaid dress. Navy tights, patent high-button shoes, a white eyelet pinafore that allowed the plaid of the dress to peep through. Adorable! They’d been planning this first-day-of-school outfit together for days.
Lizabeth's Story Page 8
