The next morning, Allison and James were seated at the dining room table enjoying a leisurely breakfast. The telephone jangled noisily, and Muriel appeared in the dining room with a sour look on her face. “It’s that woman again, Jamie. You’d better talk to her.”
Allison could hear strains of the conversation, but her father’s voice remained surprisingly calm and strong. He returned with a boyish grin, looking very much like a cat who’d just devoured a canary.
“So what’s Lola think of our new plan?” Allison asked, eager to know yet fearing the answer.
“She thinks it’s just fine.” He sat down nonchalantly and sipped his coffee.
“Holy cow! Are you pulling my leg?” She looked at him in amazement. “What’d you do?”
“I just reminded Miss Stevens about some business she pulled behind Marsha’s back ten years ago—some business I’ve kept to myself . . . until now.”
“Dad, isn’t that blackmail?”
“No, not exactly. I didn’t make any threats. It was only a reminder. At the time, Lola told me she was doing it in the best interest of her employer, although I’ve had my doubts. However, I reminded her that we were also looking out for the best interest of her employer by trying to ensure the best interests of her employer’s daughter.”
Allison laughed. “Dad, you are brilliant!”
James frowned slightly. “I don’t know about that, Allison. I can hardly bear to see you go. I know it’s the right thing to do, but . . .
“I know exactly how you feel.” Allison swallowed hard. “I would give anything to be able to stay here with you.”
“I remember my mother saying once that sometimes the only way to keep something is to let it go.”
“She seems like she was a very wise woman,” Allison said thoughtfully.
James smiled. “And you, my dear, are a lot like her.”
Allison stood before the old-fashioned oak vanity and checked herself in the mirror. It felt odd to dress up again, but she knew it was fitting for travel. She smoothed the peach rayon jacket and adjusted her straw hat, tucking a stray copper curl into place. She laughed as she remembered how she’d asked that New York hairdresser to dye her hair. It all seemed so far away now.
She looked around the bedroom—her room. She’d miss the sunny roses on the wallpaper and the pleasant window seat overlooking the garden, all cherished reminders of Grandmother Mercury. But she’d be back.
Downstairs, Grace and the Amberwells waited with Heather’s bags stacked by the door. It was agreed they’d meet Lola at the Portland train station by noon. Allison felt thankful they didn’t have to drive with her—it was bad enough they had to share the same train for several days. George and Muriel waved sadly from the driveway as James backed out the loaded Buick.
“Don’t you two worry,” Allison called out the car window. “I’ll be back before you know it!”
“Allison, I’m so excited,” Heather exclaimed before they’d reached the end of the road. “I hardly slept at all last night!”
“Me too. But if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dreading this trip like the dickens. Heather, you look so nice—is that a new suit?”
“It was Grace’s, but she did some alterations. Do you really like it? Let me guess—it’s pink, right?” The girls giggled at the old joke, and Heather stroked the nubby linen fabric.
“You’re wrong, Heather, it’s mauve,” Allison teased.
While James drove, they played twenty questions with Grace and sang along with Andrew and the radio. Allison had always dreamed of having a family like this, driving in a big car, laughing and joking and singing. It felt so good to be surrounded by people who loved her.
Allison looked out the window, hoping to imprint her memory with Oregon’s exquisite scenery. She wanted to be able to instantly recall it in case she got homesick at camp, and she knew she would. She studied the rocky coastline with its clear blue Pacific reaching far into the horizon and majestic Douglas firs with lush ferns at their feet like fluffy green slippers.
“Allison?” James asked. “Tell us about that young man you met on the train—the one from this camp.”
Allison instantly felt Andrew’s gaze upon her. She blushed to remember her brief encounter with John Stewart. She’d been playing the part of a young woman on a journey when in actuality she was only fourteen and on the run. It hadn’t taken John long to figure out she wasn’t being completely honest with him.
“John was very nice,” Allison began. “He’s a lot older than I am . . . eighteen, I think. He has a sister my age, and he warned me to be wary of strangers while I traveled. He was right, but unfortunately I was careful of the wrong strangers.” She told them about how her purse had been stolen in Omaha and how she’d suspected the man with the wooden leg. “Then when he caught the thief and returned my purse, I felt pretty foolish.”
“Oh dear, I’m getting worried already,” Grace said from the front seat. “I hardly know this Lola person. Will she really keep track of the girls, James?”
“Grace, don’t worry,” Allison assured. “Lola won’t let us out of her sight for a minute. She’s very dependable about her work. Marsha’s her meal ticket, you know. Even if Lola doesn’t like me, she won’t let Marsha down.”
James parked in the train depot lot. Andrew loaded the girls’ suitcases and boxes onto a luggage cart. They entered the terminal, and suddenly Allison felt she couldn’t bear to leave her father. As if sensing her fear, he took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
Lola strode up to them and glanced at her watch. “You’re late, James,” she said briskly. She tugged down her fitted blue jacket and checked the train tickets. Allison thought Lola’s suit looked familiar, then she realized where she’d seen it before—in Marsha’s closet.
“Here’s Heather’s ticket,” Grace said to Allison.
“What do you mean, Heather’s ticket?” Lola asked suspiciously.
“My friend Heather is coming to camp, too,” Allison announced, no longer intimidated by Lola’s domineering attitude.
“Well, I certainly don’t intend to play nursemaid for two girls!” Lola exclaimed.
“We don’t need you to play anything,” Allison retorted. “Heather and I are perfectly capable of caring for ourselves—thank you very much!” She looked Lola square in the eye and Lola stepped back in surprise. Allison remembered her experiences with Lola back in New York. Lola had always treated Allison like an infant. Things would be different now.
“All aboard for the eastbound train,” announced the station master. Allison hugged everyone good-bye, including Andrew. Then James held her in a long embrace.
“Allison, I won’t let Marsha take you away,” he whispered. “I promise—you’ll be with me as soon as possible. Be brave.” He held her tight, and it felt like her heart was being torn from her chest.
“I love you, Dad,” she said quietly. She had told very few people that in her lifetime, and only when she meant it.
“Hurry up, Allison,” Lola commanded. “We don’t want to miss our train.”
Allison took Heather’s arm and followed Lola up the steps to the train. They sat in first class by the window, and Allison waved sadly as the train pulled slowly out of the depot. She watched until her father was just a tiny spot in the distance.
Lola sat across from them in silence, flipping through a movie magazine. Her legs were crossed, and Allison watched one black alligator pump twitch from side to side like an animal waiting to attack its prey. Finally Lola looked up from her magazine and studied Heather as if sizing her up. Allison wondered if Lola had figured out that Heather was blind. She looked nervously from Lola to her friend. Heather looked so stylish today, even if it was a hand-me-down suit. Her shiny blond hair was neatly arranged beneath a matching mauve hat. The wire-rimmed dark glasses concealed her disability, but her natural beauty still radiated. Allison could tell Lola was impressed by Heather’s appearance.
“Are you hungry, Heather?” Allison aske
d, anxious to get her away from Lola’s prying eyes. “We could go track down the diner.”
“Yes, I feel like I could eat a horse. Would you care to join us, Miss Stevens?”
Allison winced. Why did Heather have to invite Lola? Fortunately, Lola declined. Allison grabbed Heather’s arm and whisked her off to the front of the train.
“Allison, this is such fun,” Heather giggled. “I do feel sort of guilty, though, because I don’t even miss Grace and the boys yet.”
“Don’t worry, Heather. It’ll come.”
Once seated at a table, Allison read the menu to Heather and they both picked the Pioneer Special.
Allison leaned over and asked, “Do you think Lola suspects anything, Heather?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she was looking at you real hard, and I wondered if your dark glasses tipped her off to your being blind.”
“But don’t people in Hollywood wear dark glasses all the time?” Heather asked with a puzzled brow. “That’s what Grace said. She said they make me look very fashionable.” Heather giggled. “Of course, she probably just wanted to make me feel better. You know how sweet Grace is. . . .”
“Oh no, Heather. Grace was telling the truth. They do make you look quite chic. Maybe Lola doesn’t suspect a thing. She was probably just admiring your suit.”
Heather smiled. “My pre-war hand-me-down?”
“Sure. It looks great. But tell me, Heather, why in the world did you invite Lola to join us in the diner?”
“Allison, it would’ve been terribly rude not to,” Heather scolded.
“Look, Heather, we don’t have to include her in anything. She’s the enemy—remember?”
Heather stroked her water glass with her fingertips, lightly tracing the train’s embossed gold symbol. “Allison, Lola is just doing her job.”
Allison scowled. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she wanted Heather to hate Lola as much as she did. “Heather, Lola is trying to take me away from Dad—”
“I know,” Heather said softly. “But she’s still a person. Why don’t you try to be nicer to her.”
Allison didn’t want to be nice to Lola, and she was getting tired of Heather harping on it. The waiter brought their lunch, and Allison mechanically relayed the arrangement on Heather’s plate the way she’d heard Grace do. “Tea to your upper right, Salisbury steak at six o’clock, peas at three, and a slippery pear with grated cheese at nine—no, make that ten.”
Heather smiled. “Thanks, Al.”
When Allison heard the familiar nickname, it melted her heart. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Heather. Maybe you’re right about Lola, but old habits are hard to break.”
The girls spent the rest of the day out of Lola’s sight, exploring the train and spying on people—Allison would describe the passengers, and Heather would make up crazy stories about each of them. Lola didn’t seem to notice or mind that the girls kept their distance. She checked on them at bedtime to see that they were in their sleeper.
“Good night, Lola dear,” Allison sang out sarcastically. Lola grunted and banged the door shut.
“Oh, Al!” Heather exclaimed in mock disgust.
“All I said was ‘good night.’ ”
Heather sighed from the lower bunk and changed the subject. “Don’t you just love the feel of trains at night?” she asked. “It reminds me of England when my mum used to take us to the country to escape the London heat in summer. We’d ride all night up to Scotland, then stay at this little inn by a lake. It was wonderful. I can’t remember if Winston ever got to go, but he’d have been too tiny to remember, anyway. Andrew and I had such fun playing in the cold mountain lake. Come to think of it, that’s where I first learned to swim. You know what’s really odd, Al—my mum was a lot like Grace. She always wanted me to do the same things other children did. Daddy tried to protect me, but Mum would say, ‘No, Jackson, she must learn to do for herself.’ It’s amazing how God sent Grace to us at just the right time—don’t you think so, Al?”
“Yes, I kind of feel like that, too.”
“Do you think your father will propose to her?”
“That would be wonderful, but I hope they don’t rush into anything. They probably need to get to know each other again. . . .” A small wave of jealousy hit Allison. She had just found her father. She wasn’t ready to share him with anyone right away, not even Grace.
“Tell me about your mum, Al.”
“Marsha? Hmm . . . what’s to tell? I hardly even know her myself. She’s considered to be very beautiful. Does that mean anything to you—I mean, since you can’t see?”
Heather laughed. “Of course, silly. Like when I smell a rose, I know it’s beautiful. Or the sound of the ocean, or the feeling I get when someone I love hugs me. And I think you and Grace are beautiful, too, Al.”
Allison snickered. “Well, you probably wouldn’t understand how anyone could think Marsha was beautiful. She may be attractive, but it’s more like a marble statue. Nicely sculpted but cold and hard. Personally, I don’t even think she’s that good-looking. She’s certainly not as pretty as you are, Heather.”
Heather laughed again. “Al, you’re sweet—but silly.”
“No, Heather, I mean it. You are incredibly pretty. I even saw Lola watching you and I know she was impressed, and she’s around actresses and movie stars all the time—”
“Well, Allison, according to Andrew, you’re quite a knockout yourself.”
Allison leaned over the top bunk and threw her pillow at Heather, instigating an impromptu pillow fight. But Heather soon gained the advantage in the darkened sleeping car, and the battle ended in hysterical giggles.
The next morning Heather nudged Allison. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’m starved.” Heather was already dressed with her hair neatly arranged.
Allison pushed herself up on one elbow and looked around groggily. She let Heather pull her out of bed, and she grabbed her clothes out of her suitcase. “How do you do your hair so nicely?” Allison asked as she buttoned her seersucker blouse.
“Grace taught me how. It’s really quite simple. I’ll show you later. I think yours is long enough to do it, too.”
When Allison was ready, the girls made their way to the dining car. It was still early and the tables were all but empty. They sat by the window, and Allison admired the craggy mountainous landscape.
“We must be in the Rocky Mountains, Heather.”
“That’s right, ladies,” the waiter said brightly. “We just crossed into Wyoming.” He took their order, and Allison tried to describe the majesty of the mountainside landscape.
“It’s kind of like God was in this wildly creative mood, and He took all this clay and rock and some scrubby trees. Then He stacked and piled them until they reached way up into the sky. . . .”
Heather laughed. “It sounds very interesting. When do you suppose we’ll get to the camp, Al? I think I’m already starting to get homesick. I’d like to write a letter, but my typewriter is still in baggage.”
“We’ll write post cards right after breakfast. You can dictate to me if you want, Heather, and I’ll just write, I won’t even listen.”
Heather chuckled. “As if I’d have anything to say that you wouldn’t know. But on the other hand, do I get to hear what you write to my brother?”
“Heather!” Allison exclaimed in mock irritation.
They finished breakfast, and Allison kept a lookout for Lola in hopes of avoiding her. Heather dictated only one letter and Allison tucked in her own footnotes. By afternoon, they began crossing the Great Plains. Allison told Heather about the circus train that had derailed near Omaha on her trip west.
“You mean giraffes and elephants were actually roaming around on the prairie?” Heather laughed.
“Yes, even monkeys hanging on the train signals—”
“Hello, girls,” Lola interrupted as she approached them. “I’m glad to see someone is enjoying this trip.” Her voice, as usual, sounded exas
perated with life in general.
“We’re having a super time, Miss Stevens,” Heather said. “Would you like to join us? Al was just telling the funniest story.”
“I can just imagine.” Lola peered at Allison over her glasses. “Allison, dear, where on earth did you get that lovely suit? It looks just like a Vanderpool.”
Allison looked down at the celery-colored linen suit she’d taken from Marsha’s closet. “Now that you mention it, Lola, I was wondering the same thing about what you had on yesterday. I think we must shop at the same store.”
Lola’s face grew red as she pursed her lips and looked out the window.
“Miss Stevens, are you having a nice trip?” Heather asked pleasantly.
Lola grunted. “Humph, I don’t know how anyone can sleep on this rickety old train, and the food is disgusting—”
“I’m so sorry,” Heather said. “You must be anxious to get home.”
“No, not really—it’s hotter than an oven in New York this time of year. But at least next week I fly out to Beverly Hills. Somehow summer’s more bearable where they have pools and air conditioning.”
“And what will you be doing there, Miss Stevens?”
“You might as well call me Lola. That’s all right with me. Anyway, Allison’s mother will be signing a new contract this fall, and I’m assisting in negotiations and things. You see, Marcus Hudson is Marsha’s agent, but he can’t be completely trusted, so Marsha has me keep tabs on things.”
Allison marveled at Heather’s ability to get Lola to talk. In fact, Lola actually seemed to begin to enjoy herself. Most of it was idle chatter or Hollywood gossip, but it did help pass the time. When Lola’s tongue finally grew tired, she turned the conversation around. “Heather, I’m curious—you’re obviously from England. How did you end up in Oregon of all places?”
Heather explained how her parents were killed in a London blitz and how Grace had adopted the three children. “I love living in Oregon. I think Tamaqua Point is one of the most wonderful spots on the whole coast.”
“I suppose it’s okay if you like the wilds.” Lola turned up her nose. “I prefer a little more civilization. Speaking of which, I’m simply craving a cigarette. I think I better find the smoking car. Maybe I’ll join you girls for dinner.”
Allison O'Brian on Her Own Page 18