by Jan Surasky
As Mama’s steps retreated down the creaky treads of the old back stairway, making its way to the entrance of the kitchen, the large soup pot perennially on the back burner, Mama’s favorite pots hanging over the extra-large white stove, I thought of the future.
Carrie, who was as passionate as she was impractical, needed a settling influence. Mama had been lost without Papa and his dreams. Georgie was headed for farming. As for me, I knew I wanted to teach but I felt a restlessness I couldn’t identify. A restlessness born of years of responsibility taken for granted.
But, I couldn’t abandon Mama. I decided to ponder it all another time and give my attention to the pile of unfinished homework still sitting on my desk.
I looked out the window toward the sun-drenched fields for inspiration, the rich dark loamy soil already tilled and plowed, awaiting spring planting. A robin perched on the old red maple out back and a blue jay chased away a cardinal from the new bird feeder Uncle John had just put up beside the barn. I decided to move along as swiftly as I could so we could make it to Strawberry Hill before the sun sank below the soft azure blues of the nearly cloudless sky.
Chapter Twenty
The blue jays and the cardinals chattered overhead as Carrie and I pulled out of the Wells College parking lot to head for Boston. Jamie had invited Carrie for Harvard’s annual spring weekend and I would be a guest of a friend of his he had set up as an escort for the occasion. Carrie was overjoyed to be seeing Jamie again but my knees were turning weak at the thought of providing a fourth in what would ordinarily have been a threesome.
I had never dated a college boy much less a lot of my high school classmates and the thought produced a fear I had never experienced before. But, for Carrie’s sake I was determined to reach down for a courage I had reserved for riding bareback on a newly broken horse or jumping into the icy cold pond in winter on a dare.
Carrie had brought some egg salad sandwiches, two bottles of iced tea, and a variety of strawberry, raspberry, and fig-filled pastry rolls she had talked the dining room pastry chef into parting with. She was hunkered down for the fairly long trip to Boston.
“Gosh, Annie May, I wonder what Jamie has planned for us?”
“Whatever it is I hope it involves a place to stay.”
“He has made arrangements for us to stay at Radcliffe with a couple of his roommates’ dates.”
“Sounds good. I packed a couple of sleeping bags in case.
“Carrie, do you have a dress for the dance?”
“I made my dress. I couldn’t wait to design it. Laurie Sue Malloy who lives next to me lent me her sewing machine. It’s the latest, with a buttonholer and seam stitcher attached.
“It’s the most beautiful green silk, with velvet accents, and a large velvet bow in the back. I can’t wait to wear it.”
“I’m sure Jamie will think you’re the most beautiful girl there.”
“I don’t know, Annie May. I suppose those Radcliffe girls are knockouts. Not country girls like us.”
“I think your dress and a French twist with those tortoise shell combs from Aunt Maybelle that I know you prize will make you a standout no matter how many city girls attend.”
“I hope so. And, what did you bring to wear to the dance?”
“Hank Peterson let me choose from the new stock that just came in. I got my first pick of the prom dresses. I didn’t have a chance to get it fitted, but it will just have to do.”
“No problem. I brought my sewing basket with us for last minute alterations. We’ll make it fit.”
Just like Carrie to think of everything when it comes to style and fashion. Although I wasn’t looking forward to being the belle of the ball at least I wouldn’t stand out if it was up to Carrie. However, I wasn’t certain how she was going to make a light blue taffeta conform to my fairly athletic form. But, I knew I would have to develop some patience while I stood on a rise and Carrie worked her magic. After all, this was her important weekend and I knew I couldn’t let her down.
The light drizzle that had been pelting the truck for the last half hour let up and the sun came out, bringing Carrie out of her funk and into her bright side. “Jamie has asked one of his roommates to make us a foursome. His name is Maxwell Oliver. He says Max is very shy and has hardly asked any girls out. But, he says that you are just the one to bring him out and get him to be more social. Harvard has a lot of activities and Jamie thinks Max is missing a lot of college life.”
“I’ll do my best. But, all I’ve done with boys is arm wrestle, chase loose horses and race bareback, and go swimming in the ponds out back beyond the meadows. None of them have ever asked me to a dance.
“If it wasn’t for Miss Lewis in gym this year who insisted everyone learn the fox trot and that new swing dancing that’s just coming in in case we got asked to the prom I wouldn’t know a step. But, I think I still have two left feet.”
“Girls just have to follow. The boy is supposed to lead. So, you just depend on your partner. It should be easy.”
Carrie, worn from pulling all-nighters on her art projects, fell asleep as soon as we left the first rest stop. It was left to me to watch the road and contemplate my future, at least my immediate future. I fell to imagining what Maxwell Oliver might be like. At first I had him big and athletic and looking good in a tux. Next, slight and small with a bad complexion. I decided to wait and see and turned to counting how many houses needed paint in the small towns we encountered as we left the turnpike.
Carrie awoke as we pulled into Boston. Despite our carefully mapped out route we were left to asking directions of almost every gas station attendant on the way to Cambridge. Nevertheless, we arrived at almost the appointed hour. Jamie was waiting as planned. I left Carrie and Jamie to a private reunion while I fiddled with the luggage in the back but Jamie pulled me out of the truck to welcome me as well.
“Welcome, Annie May. I have great accommodations for you both in the Radcliffe dorms. Two girls away for the weekend but they’re very willing to lend you their room.”
“Thanks so much, Jamie,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster after the long drive. “I know we can use it. If you show us how to get there, I can unpack for both of us and maybe take a nap while you show Carrie the campus.”
“I’d like to show you the campus as well, Annie May. And, I know my friend Max is anxious to meet you. So, why don’t I ride with you to Radcliffe, get you settled , and pick you both up after you get some rest and freshen up. I know it’s been a long drive.
“Thanks, Jamie. Sounds good.”
Although Jamie and Carrie only had eyes for each other on the way to Radcliffe, Jamie’s manners kept him from ignoring me completely. We shared some small talk while Carrie remained uncharacteristically quiet and I pulled from my body of knowledge to sound as intelligent as I could.
Radcliffe, the women’s college across the Cambridge Common from Harvard, was as stately and classically built but not as imposing. Women crossed the campus in easy chatter, dressed in classic sweaters and plaid skirts. Its quiet gentility was far from the rough and forthright world both Carrie and I knew, but I was determined to fit in for Carrie’s sake, at least for the weekend.
Jamie took our suitcases and led us toward a beautiful brick building on what he called the quad. “This is Eliot. I can only go as far as the entrance hall. But, I’ll be back to pick you up as soon as you get settled. If you need anything, just use one of the hall phones to call my dorm room.”
At that, Jamie pressed the empty dorm room key into Carrie’s hand and we were on our own. Carrie was as quiet as any mouse as we headed up the stairs, all the newels of the carefully polished rails beautifully carved and hand turned. Quiet reigned as we looked for the number and found it down a very long corridor recently painted in a very soft pastel shade of muted green.
We opened the door to a dark paneled room with pennants and memorabilia hung on thumbtacks, pegs and nails in every empty space. The beds were covered in beautiful
quilted spreads of deep green. Shoes were everywhere.
We quickly found the showers, choosing our most casual outfits to slip into. As Carrie called Jamie, I crossed my fingers behind my back. I was going to need all the luck I could get to fit into a Harvard College weekend.
Chapter Twenty-One
Harvard Yard was surrounded by the most stately buildings I had ever seen. Dormitories, libraries and classrooms lined the perimeters of the grassy flatlands of the famous Yard, backed by some of the oldest college buildings in the nation. Students, oblivious to its awe-inspiring history, strolled the Yard, yawning after a late Friday night fraternity event, or loudly and excitedly making plans for the evening’s big dance.
Jamie, excited to give us a tour of the campus he obviously loved, pointed out to us the many architectural details hearkening back to the eighteenth century and a detailed history of almost each and every building we passed.
Jamie had made plans to meet Max at one of the libraries where he obviously spent much of his time. As we neared the moment my knees went weak despite my intent to act as casual as I could.
Maxwell Oliver was nothing like I had imagined him. Neither acned or big and beautifully built he was pretty average. Medium height, glasses with frames that fit his face, and clothes so carefully pressed and tailored they would never have found their way into any of Mama’s catalogues. His shyness was obvious, as he looked down at his feet instead of at us, but so was his generosity.
We found Max at the appointed place in the beautiful brick building that housed the library. He immediately stood as he saw us enter and shoved a box of dried fruit into Jamie’s outstretched hand.
“Would anyone like a dried apricot?” he mumbled, as he looked down at the beautifully polished floor.
“Maybe we better do the introductions first,” Jamie laughed, as he brought me forward to introduce me.
“Max, this is your date for the dance tonight. May I present Miss Annie May Parker from New York. “
“How do you do?” said Max, his face turning red but lifting his gaze to meet mine.
“How do you do,” I returned, my knees weakening only slightly.
“And this,” Jamie continued, “is Carrie Parker, her sister and my date for the weekend.”
“It is nice to meet you, Miss Parker.”
Carrie took Max’s hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you too Max. I hope we didn’t disturb your studying.”
As an answer Max invited us to join him for a snack and a stroll around Harvard Square, a short walk from the Yard and an obvious student hangout from the rigors of studying. “My treat,” he stated, still studying the floor as he spoke.
Although Max was shy, he was forceful in leading the way to the Square, as he explained most students called it. Jamie and Carrie hung back a bit, so it was left to me to follow Max’s strident lead, and I was up to it, gaining a second wind as the afternoon wound down.
“You’ll like the Square,” Max said, to no one in particular.
I ventured an “I’m sure we will,” but Max kept heading for the Square with an intent I’m sure he reserved for every activity he indulged himself in.
As we left the Yard and the Square opened up I stopped. This was shopper’s heaven for a small town girl like me. The department stores loomed big but the five and dime stores looked even better. Casual restaurants were everywhere and book stores lined every street. A co-op which doubled for a general store held everything anyone would ever want. And, it was all overseen by a policeman in a very high turret in the center of the Square.
Students strolled the streets, many with ice cream cones in hand, all in casual dress, chatting wildly and heading for their favorite haunts. “How about the Tasty?” Max shouted to Jamie. Jamie nodded in agreement but kept his attention on Carrie.
The Tasty Sandwich Shop, or the Tasty, as it had been known to Harvard students for decades, was a small one-room diner in the center of Harvard Square. Its narrow lunch counter covered in old yellow linoleum was crammed with locals, visitors, Harvard students and professors, blue and white collar workers, and just about anybody who came in from off the street. The quarters were small but the conversation was lively. The cooks chatted with the customers while turning hotdogs and hamburgers on the open grill, filling orders at the most rapid pace I had ever seen. A large map covered the back wall with pins for every locale the diner had received postcards from, most from former customers, many of them now famous, but all reliving their days at the Tasty.
Max stood behind a couple who seemed to be finishing up so Carrie and I could get a stool. As they left, Max swooped down to grab both seats, despite his shyness an expert in diner strategy.
Jamie and Max stood behind us and ordered. Jamie, anxious to include me, shouted over the snippets of the loudest conversations I had ever heard, “So what do you think of Harvard, Annie May?”
“It’s sure different than Mayberry and Baldwinsville Central.”
Jamie laughed. “It was hard for me to adjust to and I come from Manhattan. New Yorkers should be able to handle anything. But, college life at Harvard was new to me. I intend to make everything I can out of it.
“The professors will help you all they can if you have an interest in your studies. And, I have made many friends here. We have formed the best study groups on campus.”
It was plain to see that Jamie was here to succeed. It was less obvious what Max was here for. I decided to leave him alone in his own little world. Although he was mostly speechless, I could see that he was taking everything in in his own quiet way.”
Jamie handed us our hotdogs spread thick with mustard but the elbow room at the counter was pretty limited. Carrie and I nibbled genteelly as best we could but we lost the battle to keep the mustard on the hotdog. I knew my light green shirt had seen better days but I also knew with Carrie’s knowledge of spotting laundry and bleach it would be fresh by morning.
“We better get the girls back to the dorm, Max, so they can get ready for the dance tonight. We’ve deprived them of their beauty rest long enough.”
As we walked back to the Radcliffe campus, the sunset beautiful over Harvard Square, I thought of the many sunsets I had watched from Strawberry Hill. I vowed to stand as still as I could without complaint when Carrie took in my dress for the dance tonight. As we strolled alongside manicured lawns and carefully tended gardens, full of the most cultivated blossoms I had ever seen, I glanced at Carrie, her face aglow in the rising moonlight, her arm slipped through Jamie’s, and I knew that for her, this would have to be a perfect weekend.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The floors were polished and red, white and blue lights hung from everywhere for the annual spring weekend dance at Harvard. Black and white dinner jackets mingled with all manner of gowns as the famous Lester Lanin society band, recruited many years in advance, set up to play the evening away with pop tunes of the day and Broadway numbers I had never heard.
Jamie was anxious to show Carrie a good time. He had brought her a beautiful orchid wrist corsage which his mother had sent, a newly developed orchid recently named and bred by a member of her highly specialized orchid society. Carrie was thrilled, especially because it blended so well with the green silk she had spent so long designing and perfecting.
As for me, Max had also brought me an orchid as well from the local florist. I had never had an orchid before so I felt quite grand as he pinned the corsage to the light blue taffeta Carrie had tamed to fit my modest but rather athletic frame. I had added a pair of rhinestone earrings and a matching clip to my hair that Carrie had lent me in a bid to blend in to the sophistication I saw all around me.
The Harvard seal was represented everywhere, on a crimson banner hung on a wall behind the tuxedoed band members, and on the small round tables set off to the side covered with the most pristine and carefully pressed white linen I had ever seen.
Radcliffe dates outnumbered the out-of-towners and all were dressed in the latest and most costly f
ashions. But, to me, Carrie outshone them all.
“Would you like to dance, Annie May?”
“Of course,” I said, mentally hoping Miss Lewis’ admonitions and Max’s skill would keep me upright on the floor which now looked like the face of Mama’s prized bureau silver looking glass.
To my surprise, Max whirled me around the dance floor with perfect ease, his hand hard-pressed against my back to keep me steady, even dipping in the final phase of the tune without a mishap.
To my relief, he suggested we sit the next one out. “You dance beautifully, Annie May. You have such a good sense of rhythm.”
I was proud as a peacock but I made sure not to show it. No boy had ever praised me except in arm wrestling and horse roping. “Would you like something to drink?”
“A soda would be fine,” I answered weakly.
“Great. We have a fine brand of soda water highly prized by the bartenders who think of themselves as mixologists. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
While Max was gone, I used the time to survey the crowd. Diamonds were the norm as accessories for the beautiful ball gowns and cultured pearls that looked like they had been in the family for generations. Would Carrie be happy in a crowd like this?
I looked at Carrie dancing away the evening with Jamie and decided to dismiss my thoughts for the moment.
Max returned with a plate of fruit, a stemmed crystal with soda water half-poured, and a glass of scotch he deemed the best on the planet. “The bartender, who is a fraternity brother of a friend of mine, had the best fruit brought in from the kitchen to add to your soda water. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty.”
Max was a strange bird alright, asking my permission to treat me like I was European royalty. I added a beautifully cut lemon, a strawberry, and a wedge of lime. The flavor was divine and I decided to savor the moment.
“Annie May, would you like to take a walk around the grounds? I can show you the place that is my most favorite when I want to get away from it all.”