Lizabeth's Story

by Thomas Kinkade

  Soon she stood on the path to her home. How beautiful it looked. How she’d missed it! The gas lamps in front were off. The house was dark.

  Lizabeth hesitated in front of the trellis. Her window looked so high up. She wasn’t used to climbing. That simply wasn’t a skill a lady would ever need! But this was an emergency.

  She put her foot on the first rung and then the next. It was hard. The rose branches were getting in her way. Another rung and another.

  The trellis creaked. Lizabeth stopped short. It might be breaking! And what if Mother and Father heard?

  Shakily she climbed on. Thorns tore at her, her skirt tangled around her feet. She tottered unbalanced. Don’t look down, she told herself.

  Her window was just above. Oh, what if it was locked! She’d never thought of that. If I’ve gone through all of this to get my dress, Lizabeth thought, then I deserve to be Strawberry Queen. I’ve earned it.

  The window slid open easily. That had to be a good sign. She was afraid to let her foot leave the trellis. She didn’t move for a long, uncertain moment before she dared reach for the sill. Then she was up and over. She landed with a bounce on her bed. She had almost forgotten how deliciously soft it was.

  It was easy enough to find the strawberry dress hanging separately from the others in the closet. She put it gently over her arm. She’d never manage to climb down with it! Another thing she hadn’t planned.

  Lizabeth tiptoed to the door of her room and opened it. She could hear Father snoring at the other end of the house. All right. She’d take a chance on creeping down the stairs and out the back door.

  A night-light shone through the open doorway of Tracy’s room. How could she possibly leave without seeing her?

  She expected to find Tracy looking angelic in her sleep. But Tracy was thrashing in her bed, tangled in her sheets and whimpering. Tracy was suffering!

  Lizabeth felt something squeeze her heart. “Tracy?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

  “Water,” Tracy murmured.

  Lizabeth sat down on the bed. In the dim light her little sister’s eyes looked sunken deep into their sockets.

  “Lizabeth?”

  “I’m here,” Lizabeth whispered. She poured water into a glass from the carafe on the nightstand.

  Tracy was too weak to sit up. Lizabeth put her arm around her and propped her up while she took a few sips. She was shocked by the heat coming off the small body.

  “Oh, Trace!”

  Tracy pushed the glass away and sank back into the pillow. “I’m hot,” she whimpered.

  There was a folded washcloth on the nightstand. It looked like it had been used for cold compresses. Lizabeth dipped an end in water and gently wiped Tracy’s flushed face. It was drawn and very small.

  “Is that better?” Lizabeth asked.

  “I’m sorry, Lizabeth,” Tracy whispered.

  “You’ll get well soon. I know you will.” Lizabeth stroked her hair. It was damp and sticky with sweat. “I’m so sorry you’re sick.”

  “It’s punish…punishment,” Tracy said. “God is mad at me.”

  Lizabeth’s spine tingled in fear. Had Tracy become delirious?

  “I’m sorry,” Tracy whispered.

  “No, Tracy, God isn’t mad at you. I promise.”

  “Your pink velvet ribbon. I took it. ’Cause it was so pretty. And…and I lied.”

  “Oh, cupcake, I don’t care about the ribbon. I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I’m sick ’cause I was bad.” Tracy moaned. “Lizabeth, I’m hot.”

  “No, no, you’re a good girl.” Tears filled Lizabeth’s eyes. “You’re sick because…” She didn’t know what to give for a reason. It wasn’t fair! “Because…because the sickness was in Cape Light and you caught it. Lots of people did. You know Mabel, don’t you? She had the sickness and she’s all well now.”

  “Mabel, the big girl? Was she bad, too?”

  “No, Tracy. No one was bad. You were never bad.” Lizabeth held back a sob and dampened the towel again. “Please don’t think that.” She wiped Tracy’s face and neck. “I love you. We all love you. Mother and Father, Chris, Ada, Kat—”

  “I’m scared to go to sleep,” Tracy whispered.

  “Don’t be scared. God loves you. Do you want to pray with me?”

  Tracy nodded.

  “Dear God, please help Tracy get well soon. Tracy and I ask that she has good dreams tonight, sweet dreams about pussycats and baby dolls and spring flowers. Please let her sleep tight in your loving arms and wake up bright-eyed in the morning. Amen.”

  Lizabeth was surprised by the sense of peace that came over her. She was the least religious of all her friends. Tracy’s face, too, looked peaceful now.

  “You forgot God bless Mother, Father, Chris, our friends and neighbors…” Tracy’s eyes were barely open. “…and all the ships at sea.”

  “You’re right.” Lizabeth’s voice broke. “God bless us all.”

  Tracy snuggled against the pillow clutching her teddy bear.

  Lizabeth straightened the sheet. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

  “Uh-huh,” Tracy murmured faintly. Soon her eyelids were closed, lashes curving against her cheeks. She was breathing softly through partly open lips. It hurt Lizabeth to see how the fever had cracked and parched the lips that had been like rosebuds.

  “I have to leave before anyone sees me,” Lizabeth whispered. She kissed the sleeping child’s brow. “I promise I’ll be back.”

  Lizabeth walked back to Kat’s cottage along Lighthouse Lane carrying the dress over her arm. This time she wasn’t aware of the night noises and deep shadows. She was blinded by tears. It was her fault that Tracy was tormented by that stupid ribbon. She had been a terrible big sister.

  Dear God, Lizabeth whispered, please help me do better. When she gets well, I’ll play with Tracy more. I’ll pay more attention. She carries Sleeping Beauty and The Ugly Duckling around, looking for someone to read to her. A sob caught in Lizabeth’s throat. Please, God, let me have that chance.

  On the path to Kat’s cottage, Lizabeth stopped to pull herself together. She wiped her face with her sleeve and took a deep breath.

  Then through the front door, up the stairs, and into Kat’s room. She dropped the strawberry dress over a chair.

  Sunshine raised his head and gave a questioning yip.

  “Shhh, good dog,” Lizabeth whispered.

  Kat stirred in her bedroll. “What time is it?”

  “It’s still night,” Lizabeth said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Wait—why are you dressed?” Kat asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I saw Tracy.”

  Kat sat up. “Tracy?”

  “She doesn’t look good, Kat. She…” There was a lump in Lizabeth’s throat.

  “How did you see Tracy? Were you with her?”

  “I went home.” Lizabeth’s voice was scratchy with fatigue. She pulled on her nightgown. “I had to get the strawberry dress and I went into Tracy’s room. She—”

  Kat bolted out of the bedroll and faced Lizabeth, her eyes blazing. “How could you? How could you break quarantine for a dress? You exposed yourself to scarlet fever!”

  “Well, that’s my business, isn’t it?”

  “It’s my business, too! You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

  Lizabeth was stunned. “I don’t care?” she repeated. She was devastated by Tracy’s suffering. She had expected comfort from Kat.

  “I know you’re self-centered and vain, but this is too much. Even for you. How dare you put Todd and Jamie and my whole family in danger!”

  “Oh. I never thought of that.”

  “What do you think quarantine is for?” Kat glared at her, hands on her hips. “Is there anything in your head besides beauty contests and—and nightshade?”

  Lizabeth’s eyes widened with hurt.

  “If you’ve brought the fever here to my little brothers…” Kat sputtered in an
ger. “For nothing more than—than this!” She fingered a fold of the dress and flung it aside.

  “You’re so mean. Rough and mean!” Lizabeth lashed out in her pain. “And…and heartless! You stomp on other people’s feelings. Everything has to be your way. I’m tired of you rolling your eyes at me and directing me. Ever since I’ve been here—”

  “If you don’t like it—” Kat started.

  “I’ll leave,” Lizabeth finished. “You’re right, I don’t like it here. I don’t like you!”

  They stared at each other. The few feet between them felt like miles.

  Lizabeth lowered her eyes first. It was true she hadn’t even considered that she might infect Kat and her family.

  She wouldn’t cry in front of Kat. She wouldn’t! She pulled her suitcase out from under the bed.

  “It’s the middle of the night,” Kat said. “You have no place to go.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I suppose we can hope you didn’t catch the fever.” Kat’s voice softened a little. “How is Tracy?”

  “I started to tell you and you didn’t even bother to listen,” Lizabeth said bitterly.

  “If you weren’t with her for very long, you probably didn’t…Look, I won’t say anything to Ma and get her all upset if I don’t have to. Just keep a distance from my brothers. And you’d better wash your dishes separately and wash them well. Boil the water and—”

  “I can figure that out for myself,” Lizabeth said.

  “And if you start to feel even a little bit sick, you’ve got to tell right away.”

  Lizabeth opened her suitcase halfheartedly. “It’s easiest if I leave.”

  “Go to bed, Lizabeth.” Kat blew out an exasperated breath. “For goodness’ sake, just go to bed.”

  Lizabeth lay down and stared into the darkness. She knew that Kat wasn’t sleeping either. The silence between them felt heavy. There was nothing left to say.

  nine

  The next morning Amanda and Rose came over to the lighthouse tower.

  “You should see what’s going on in town,” Amanda said. “People are walking around with masks on. It’s spooky.”

  “Everyone’s scared,” Rose said.

  “You never know how people are going to act,” Amanda said. “Some only want to keep to themselves, taking no chances. You can’t blame them.”

  “Father says it makes sense for people to be afraid of being contaminated,” Rose said, “but Cape Light people have been wonderful about caring for terribly sick neighbors who are alone.”

  “My father saw Mrs. Cornell at the Whites’,” Amanda said, “helping out with the twins without a thought for herself.”

  “There are so many people who are ill, Lizabeth,” Rose said. “The Whites, both Mr. and Mrs., two of the Halloran children…the rest have been sent out of town.”

  “All three Brewster children,” Amanda added. “Mrs. Brewster comes to church every day to pray for them.”

  “It seems to hit young children the most,” Rose said. “Has your father seen Tracy again?” Lizabeth asked.

  Rose nodded. “He sees her every day on his rounds.”

  “What does he say?”

  “Honestly, he doesn’t say much of anything. He comes home very late and dead tired. They’re just waiting for Tracy’s fever to break.”

  “But isn’t there something to do? Besides waiting?” Lizabeth asked. “It’s been a week already.”

  Amanda squeezed her hand. “Tracy will be fine, I just know it.”

  “There’s no medicine for it,” Rose said. “The only thing is cold compresses to cool her. And something nourishing if she can keep it down.”

  “Ada makes the most wonderful beef broth. Tracy loves it,” Lizabeth said.

  “Didn’t you know? Ada’s not at your house, Lizabeth,” Rose said. “She’s been at her sister Leda’s. Leda’s too sick to take care of her own children.”

  Ada not there? Tracy would miss her!

  “Don’t worry,” Rose said softly. “Almost everyone gets well.”

  “When it’s all over it’ll be like a bad dream,” Amanda said. “You’ll see.”

  Lizabeth gazed out of the windows. How could it be such a perfect spring day when she felt so troubled? Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across a blue sky. The sea was calm today and a beautiful blue-gray.

  “It seems strange that school ended so suddenly,” Amanda said.

  “Well, it makes sense,” Kat said. She had been unusually quiet all morning. “No one should be put at risk for no good reason.” She gave Lizabeth a cutting look.

  Lizabeth turned away and caught Amanda’s puzzled glance.

  “Lizabeth,” Rose said. “Did you hear the Strawberry Festival has been cancelled? No crowds, no large gatherings. The Strawberry Queen event too.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lizabeth said dully.

  “There’s always next year,” Amanda said. “You can enter next year.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to it,” Rose said.

  “I don’t care,” Lizabeth said, and realized that she honestly didn’t anymore. Not from the moment she had seen Tracy.

  “You don’t?” Kat’s voice was sharp. “As of last night, it was the most important thing in the world! More important than anyone!”

  Lizabeth matched her tone. “I said I don’t care! Is that so hard to understand?”

  Amanda looked from one to the other. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

  Lizabeth hoped Kat wouldn’t explain. There wasn’t much she could say in her own defense. Amanda and Rose would surely side with Kat.

  Lizabeth had never thought much about it before, but Amanda had been Kat’s friend first. Kat’s family practically adopted her in those terrible months after her mother died. Lizabeth hadn’t exactly avoided her, but Amanda’s grief had made Lizabeth feel too uncomfortable. Well, she’d only been seven then.

  And Rose and Kat became especially close when Kat helped her care for her horse. Lizabeth had gone to Clayton Stables a few times, but she’d really done…nothing. Except pose in her scarlet riding jacket, she remembered now with embarrassment.

  “What is it?” Rose asked. “What happened?”

  “We had a disagreement,” Kat said stiffly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Lizabeth muttered.

  “Well, if it was just a little disagreement…” Rose started.

  “It wasn’t little. Things were said that can’t be unsaid,” Kat told them. “It’s too late.”

  Amanda looked distressed. “Come on, you’ve been best friends since…since you were born!”

  “We were forced on each other,” Kat said. “By our mothers.”

  “We’re cousins, not friends,” Lizabeth said. “We have nothing in common.”

  “Don’t do this, please,” Amanda pleaded.

  “Nothing could be that serious,” Rose added.

  “It’s supposed to be the four of us together, remember?” Amanda said.

  “Four best friends, forever,” Rose said. “Don’t spoil it!”

  “I don’t care what happened. You’ve got to apologize to each other right now.” Amanda was almost in tears. “You’ve got to!”

  Kat looked out the window. Lizabeth studied her feet. “When I came to Cape Light,” Rose said, “I thought the three of you had the best friendship I’d ever seen. I was so happy to be included. You can’t stay mad. Not here, not in our special place.”

  Kat and Lizabeth exchanged guarded looks.

  “Kat,” Amanda said. “Lizabeth. Please!”

  After a long pause, Kat spoke. “I don’t think I was wrong but I guess I’m sorry about some of the things I said. Though not all.”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong—you’re not—but I did what I had to do. You could have tried to understand. I couldn’t be there and not see…” Lizabeth took a breath. “I guess I’m sorry for what I said, too. I suppose I do like you. Some of the time, anyw
ay.”

  “I worry about Tracy, too,” Kat said softly. “I do understand.”

  “You were mean,” Lizabeth said. “You have a terrible temper.”

  “Well, so do you. And I’m not heartless!” Kat paused. “Lizabeth, I want you to know—I wasn’t upset only because of my brothers. I was mad at you for risking yourself.”

  Amanda and Rose looked at each other in confusion. “All right, good enough,” Rose said.

  Amanda took the other three girls’ hands and clasped them together. “Four of us, together,” she said.

  “Four, together,” Rose repeated and Kat and Lizabeth joined in.

  “Forever!” they finished. Lizabeth felt so comforted by the warmth of their friendship. Even if she hadn’t quite earned it.

  When the Williamses finished lunch Lizabeth jumped up from the table first. She went to the well outside and brought back the heavy bucket of water. She heated water on the stove and prepared to wash the dishes.

  “It’s supposed to be my turn,” Todd said uneasily.

  “I’ll do them,” Lizabeth said. “I want to help out.”

  Todd grinned. “If you want to, that sure is all right with me!” He zoomed out of the kitchen.

  The soap was harsh on Lizabeth’s hands. No wonder. Aunt Jean made it herself out of lye and grease! Once she was home and back to normal, she’d slather her hands with her milk-and-almond lotion.

  Later in the afternoon when Aunt Jean finished washing the laundry in the sink, Lizabeth volunteered to do the wringing.

  Aunt Jean looked surprised. “It’s hard work, Lizabeth.”

  “I can do it.” It was hard. Turning the hand wringer made her arms ache. But somehow straining her muscles eased her mind.

  “Thank you,” Aunt Jean said. “Then maybe I’ll take a little nap before I start dinner.”

  Lizabeth shrugged apologetically. “I don’t know how to cook.”

  “No one expects you to,” Kat said.

  When Lizabeth finished wringing the clothes, her arms were limp. She helped Kat hang the wash on the line outside. I’ve never had a clothespin in my hands in my entire life, she thought. Not that I was missing much!