We didn’t say much as we walked across the campus. There were about ten cars scattered throughout the parking lot, and I wondered which one had Luke’s entire life packed in it.
“Good luck with your project,” Luke said when we reached my car. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
I hope so, I thought. But I didn’t say it. Instead, I smiled up at him and said, “Thanks again for your help.”
He stepped away from the car and sort of waved before trudging back to the lab in the beam of my headlights. I was all buckled in, with the powder we’d made nestled in the seat next to me. I was leaving with everything I’d come for, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. I was as dissatisfied with what I’d said as with what I hadn’t. I wanted to run after him and say, But I’m really not a snob.
And, It must be a good school; you go here.
And, My family is all electrons too.
The farther he walked, the more ridiculous it would be to follow him, but I still struggled with the impulse. There was something unfinished between us, and it couldn’t wait until a nebulous “sometime,” whenever that might be. At least, I couldn’t, but the way we’d parted made me think I was running out of reasons to see him. By the time I got home, I was sure that Luke was so over hanging out with someone as stuck-up and immature as me.
Then I checked my email.
J,
I forgot to say—please let me know about the powder.
I hope it works.
L
Chapter 14
March 30, 1918
Dear Walter,
Your mother called on us last week and brought a cake for Liza. We were all very glad for her visit, as Liza’s convalescence has not been as quick or easy as we might have hoped. She is often in a foul mood from a gnawing pain in her leg that should have receded by now. Instead, it has become transient, migrating from her leg to her hip to her other hip and then back again. Sometimes her hip seizes—no, it is more than that; it seems to lock in place and will not be coaxed into any other position, making Liza quite immobile. When this happens, she scarcely speaks. Her silence is a greater testimonial to her suffering than any words could be.
Liza also complains of a steady ache in her jaw, but if she is to see the dentist, we must orchestrate her transfer down three flights of stairs with one of her legs entirely incapacitated, and Liza assured us many a time that the ache is not so troublesome that we must summon a dentist to her bedside. This was, we now know, a mistake.
We all do our utmost to keep Liza’s morale high. Of course it is tedious to spend all of one’s hours in bed. The girls from the factory have been so good, visiting her on a schedule of sorts so that she might have companionship most evenings. Even before their arrival, Liza is in high spirits, brushing her hair so that it gleams and rouging her cheeks. She has a fine hand for such applications. I would never know that their rosiness is artificial if I wasn’t the one to wipe them clean at bedtime. With her visitors, Liza puts on a grand show. Her laughter fills the rooms of our cozy dwelling, and so it is no wonder that she is quite exhausted afterward.
She takes great pains to marginalize Charlotte during these visits, ordering her about and treating her like a young child. One terrible night, Liza even sent her away from the sitting room, cracking wise that it was past her bedtime, in front of Helen and Mary Jane. Poor Charlotte. Walter, she was ever so embarrassed. She tries hard to act older when she is around the other girls from the factory, and I know that such treatment in front of them must smart. We have all tried to be understanding with Liza, but Charlotte has run out of patience. That night—she was still awake when the girls left, of course; it wasn’t even nine o’clock—Charlotte was unusually rough when we helped Liza back to bed, so that Liza’s head knocked against the doorframe to our room.
“You did that on purpose!” Liza snapped at her.
Charlotte’s eyes were dark. “And so what if I did?” She let go of Liza abruptly as we positioned her above the bed, so that Liza tumbled onto the blankets. I had to rush to catch Liza’s leg as she fell so that it would not be further injured, and a dreadful feeling overcame me then. My two sisters were spitting like cats, and I thought: Nothing good can come from this.
“You want me in this bed,” Liza hissed at her. “You want me out of your way. You’re not holding the job for me; you’re keeping it for yourself.”
“That is quite enough from you both,” I said, in hope that I could silence them. “Good night, Charlotte.”
She was still scowling as she left, and so was Liza as I tucked the blankets around her.
“You must be kinder to Charlotte,” I told Liza at last. “It is not her fault that you are laid up in bed.”
“Well, she needn’t enjoy my suffering so.”
“For shame! She is your sister!” I cried. “How can you think such a thing?”
“Lyddie, I’m so weary of this!” Liza exclaimed. Two red patches that had no connection to the rouge bloomed on her cheeks. “Every day I am in pain. Every day I am so lonesome. I want my life back. Please, Lyddie, how might I get my life back?”
“Shh, shh, don’t upset yourself,” I said.
“Everyone has forgotten me,” she continued stubbornly, as if determined to be maudlin. Her lips quivered, which might have been for show but for the tears glistening in her eyes.
“Poor Liza,” I said, stroking her hair. “I know it’s been utterly tedious to be ill for such a long time.”
“Yes,” she said sullenly, swelling her lower lip into a pout. “Yes, it has.”
Then a look of panic careened across her face, and I knew something terrible had happened. “Liza, what?” I whispered. “What?”
She shook her head, hard, then covered her mouth. It took some coaxing, but at last she pulled away her hand, building a ropy bridge of bloody saliva from her mouth to her fist. In her palm lay a single tooth, glinting like a star in a nebula of blood. I plucked the tooth from Liza’s hand so that she wouldn’t have to bear its weight and all that it meant.
“This,” I said sternly, “is a poor excuse for a pearl.”
She stared at me with wildness in her eyes before she laughed, but the laughter soon turned to tears, a Frankenstein of emotions stitched together with disbelief. A bloody bubble burst on her lips, splattering her face and nightclothes. This was useful, as cleaning it gave me something to do and a way to disguise my horror and alarm.
I clucked over Liza like a querulous hen, my intention being to distract her from the gravity of the situation. “Liza! We would’ve sent for the dentist!” I scolded. “Which one was it? From the back, I hope. Open up.”
She obliged like an obedient kitten, so that I was able to peer inside her mouth. The gaping hole welled up with blood on the left side, near the front, but fortunately in the lower part of her jaw so that she can still smile without showing that she has lost a tooth.
“Here,” I said, packing a clean square of linen into the weeping socket. “Bite down. Hard.”
It was then that I realized she’d lost the tooth she uses for pointing her brush when she paints, the one with the convenient gap between it and its neighbor. Of course I said nothing about it, for if Liza hadn’t realized that herself, then there was no reason to upset her. Painting is really her only activity of late. She shows no interest in books or sewing or even the diary Charlotte gave her, and luckily I am earning enough to keep her in canvases. When she returns to work, it will undoubtedly slow her progress to develop a new technique for pointing the brush.
I made Liza a cup of chamomile tea to calm her spirits, and when a clot finally formed in the open socket, she sipped the tea with great care. I hesitated to say what I did next, but it had been on my mind for some days, so at last I ventured to speak my thoughts. “When I visited Edna,” I began.
Liza looked at me sharply, but I pressed on.
“She showed me advertisements. For Evr-Brite. She was convinced that it would be a
most beneficial curative—”
“But I am not so bad as Edna,” Liza interrupted me.
“No, no, no,” I assured her. “Not so bad by far. But if it were able to augment the healing process, and if we could come by some Evr-Brite…I did try to get some for Edna, but was unable to do so. Of course, neither Edna nor I had the sort of connections at ARC that you do.”
Liza sipped her tea, staring deep into the distance, and I decided that I had said enough on the matter. It would be up to Liza to determine her course. She fell asleep quickly, no doubt exhausted by the evening’s unexpected excitement.
I was bone-weary myself, Walter, and yet sleep was elusive for me. I am more worried about Liza than I have let on to her, and yet she is no fool. She knows—she must know—that someone as young and healthy as she should feel at least some improvement in her leg as the bone mends. And now this trouble with her tooth. What could make a tooth fall from one’s jaw without warning or apparent cause? We’ll have to bring the dentist around, no matter what the cost. It is so mysterious.
At long last, I fell asleep in the smallest, darkest hours of the morning, though I did not sleep well, not at all. I dreamed that the earth gave way beneath my feet, and I plunged into a sudden free fall through the blackest parts of the galaxy, and all the stars were falling away as well. When I awoke, I started in the bed as if I really were falling to my doom and sat upright, gasping for breath, before I could situate myself.
“It was only a dream, Lyddie. Go back to sleep.”
For a moment I worried that I had awakened Liza, but then I realized she must have already been awake, as she was sitting up in bed, writing a letter on the lap desk.
“Are you ill?” I mumbled groggily. “Can I help?”
She turned to face me, Walter, and except for her hair, every part of her was white—her nightdress and her skin—so that the glow from the painted walls and ceiling made a ghastly impression on her.
“There’s nothing you can do. Go back to sleep.”
Somehow, I did.
In the morning, I might have thought that my memory of Liza writing at the lap desk was merely another facet of my dream. But then she pressed a letter into my hands with explicit instructions to deliver it to Mr. Mills. Perhaps you have been curious as to the nature of their relationship, given Liza’s condition? They correspond twice a week, and I serve as letter carrier for them both, and no one, not even Charlotte, knows about it. I have been sorely tempted to peek at their letters, of course, but have never done so. This morning, I was more tempted than ever, which is the most likely reason why I was so much stricter with Charlotte than usual, scolding her for nearly the entire walk to the factory.
“Liza is ill, Charlotte! She’s very ill! And if you can’t see how shameful your behavior was last night, then her assessment of your youth is more astute than I realized.”
“Lyddie,” she protested. “That’s not fair. I do nothing to offend her, other than exist. But Liza goes out of her way to make a fool of me in front of everyone. I can’t abide by it!”
“You are able-bodied,” I told her. “And well and in full health. Do you mean to tell me that you are incapable of showing your own sister a bit of additional consideration during her convalescence? Or are you just unwilling?”
“Nothing I do is right by you,” she said petulantly.
Oh, Charlotte! If I am hard on her, it is because of how much I believe in her. I cannot allow her to take the easy course—to develop a weak character, to drift into factory work and an early marriage. Not when she has such a gift with words, composing them in ways that make me see the world anew.
“I am asking you to act like the adult you think you are,” I told her with all the sternness I could muster. “If that is beyond your current skills, you need only say the word, and I will adjust my expectations accordingly.”
When we arrived at the factory, I tried to find an excuse to see Mr. Mills so that I could deliver Liza’s letter. It grows harder and harder to slip off to his office unnoticed, and I wonder how Liza was able to manage it for so long without attracting attention.
Near the end of the day, Mr. Mills called both Minnie Johnson and me to his office, ostensibly to praise our accelerated speed, but I think the true purpose was so that he could speak to me alone, as he asked for another moment of my time after he dismissed Minnie.
“Is she still painting?” he asked, blunt as always.
“Oh, yes, sir,” I replied. “She is keen to maintain her skills for that day when she may return to work.”
He grunted in a way that was impossible to interpret, and then portioned out a greater supply of Lumi-Nite than usual. I knew better than to ask questions, but they must have been writ on my face.
“It’s the same stuff,” he said. “As in the Evr-Brite. I can’t get it for her all packaged in a pretty bottle, but it’s the same stuff.”
His meaning slowly dawned on me. “So she should…”
“However she wants,” he said. “She can drink it or eat it or apply it topically. It’s magic, what it does for the body. Immortality in a powder…for those who can get it.”
Mr. Mills lowered his voice and leaned toward me, as if we were conspiring on some secretive plot. “I like it in a dish of pudding,” he continued. “It invigorates the blood, you see. Reverses the ravages of time. You’re both too young to know about that. But I’d reckon if Liza started early, she might never age. It’s a wonder, is what I’m telling you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mills,” I said. “I’ll see that she starts dosing herself directly.”
I waited for the usual dismissal, but it did not come, and I sensed a heaviness between us, as if there were some things left unsaid.
“I should still like to see her.”
I was so grateful that he stared down at his desk while he spoke, so that I would not have to see the pleading in his eyes. The longing in his voice was almost more than I could bear.
“I will convey your request” was all I said, knowing full well Liza’s views on this matter.
The way he looked at me then—oh, Walter! In his eyes I saw that he knew precisely why Liza has not allowed him to call. “She is quite indisposed,” I babbled, which only made things worse. “She only wants you to see her at her best, you see, not laid up in bed all disheveled and pale from pain, wearing the same nightclothes for days—”
He cleared his throat gruffly. “Very well. Tell her…tell her that I miss her.”
He sat down, hard, and turned away so that he could sort through some paperwork, but there was no focus on his face. I took my leave as fast as I could.
Once home, I set to making a big bowl of pudding for Liza, and also for Charlotte, as I already regretted my harsh words. The constant stirring served as a calming agent, for by the time the pudding was thick and silky, my thoughts were settled. I sprinkled a spoonful of Lumi-Nite over Liza’s serving and stirred it in. It was a very small amount, but as I carried the bowl through the ill-lit hallway, the pudding glowed like the full moon, a soft and gentle light that could guide one through the darkest nights.
I did not tell Liza about the secret ingredient until after she had her first bite. Then I recounted everything about my conversation with Mr. Mills.
She stirred the bowl languidly. “So it’s in here? The Lumi-Nite?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t even taste it.”
“I have seen the advertisements,” I told her. “If half their claims are true, you’ll be well in no time. Mr. Mills himself takes a small measure of powder each day.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does,” she replied, and there was a tone in her voice that I did not understand.
“Liza,” I began. “He wants to see you.”
“No.”
“But, Liza…if there is an attachment between you—an understanding—then it seems unfair that he should be denied a visit…and…if there is not, then it seems cruel that he should continue to believe—”
Liza tossed a letter at me and watched me read it while she licked her spoon. It was from Captain Lawson, who has made the same request as Mr. Mills. There was great tenderness in his letter. It led me to believe that a certain intimacy has developed between them.
“You must unburden Mr. Mills of any expectations he may harbor,” I finally said. “Talk to Mother about these developments with Captain Lawson. I’m sure she would invite him to supper.”
But Liza shook her head. “No, goose, it does me no good for Captain Lawson to call. Not here.”
“Liza, I am confused. Do you even like either of these gentlemen?”
I will tell you, Walter, what I could not say to her—that true love enacts no such impediments to meeting. That nothing would stand in my way if the slightest opportunity to be with you should arise.
“I like them both, Lyddie,” she said, giving me a hard look. “Surely you can understand why neither can call on me. Not now and not here.”
I began to understand all too well. “So Captain Lawson is too good for us, and Mr. Mills is not good enough.”
“You needn’t be vulgar about it,” she replied. “Is there any reason I should throw one to the side right now? Especially when they might both be of great use in the future?”
She licked her spoon again, and I had to wonder if Mr. Mills would give so generously of the Lumi-Nite powder if Liza severed ties with him. And if he did not, how much longer would her recovery be? And would he even allow her to return to work once she is well, or would he simply insist upon Charlotte remaining in Liza’s position? Or if perhaps he would have had enough of the Grayson girls and terminate us all? Oh, Walter, these entanglements seem so needlessly complicated to me! They give me a headache, they truly do.
But all I said was, “Be careful, Liza,” as I took her empty bowl. As I passed through the doorway, she called my name.
“I prefer chocolate pudding,” she said.
“I’ll ask Mother to buy some cocoa,” I promised.
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