I held out the hem of my dress for her to touch. She laughed and said it felt like it was alive, so smooth and slippery. And we both got to laughing again. Then silly set in and we couldn’t talk any more, it seemed, without breaking into giggles.
The restless adults began discussing the time, the weather, the schedule, the afternoon plans. My farm clothes hidden in the carriage would stay hidden until another day. We all said a formal goodbye. Alyssa winked. That was how it began. Everything was in motion, a motion so different from yesterday that it hung deliciously everywhere like sweet flavored air. I had only to breathe it in.
I sent the courier; Alyssa wrote right back. The letters started short but got longer and longer very quickly. Each detail we revealed about our lives reminded us of other details we would have to give. Alyssa’s brother’s name led to secrets he and Alyssa had, jokes they played, and things I would be expected to know to fool Jake. And then there were her parents, family jokes, old stories, relatives. We had lots to tell, lots to learn before we could try out this swap.
Alyssa would have to know “royal stuff, stuffy stuff and silly protocols.” That’s how I put it in a letter. All the everyday royal things she had to do that nobody else in the world had to waste time on. Curtsey, glance, certainlys and of courses, assuredlys and by-your-leaves. There was a hard row to hoe there, I thought.
Here’s part of that letter. “…and this is the hard part. You have to pretend to be stupid for this part. OK, so there are a number of times you have to pretend the dumb thing. It’s my least favorite part, really. A Duke, for example, will say that he is going hunting with my father on the weekend. Then you have to pretend to know nothing at all about hunting even though you’ve been hunting many, many times. So you ask the Duke a question so he can show off his hunting knowledge. Right here is when I frankly want to scream. What do I want to scream? Good thing you ask. I want to scream that I know more about hunting than this smelly old Duke, and the only reason I can’t say it is because the smelly old Duke (SOD for short) is used to everyone, every day, trying to make him feel good about himself. Alyssa, it wears thin very quickly. SOD comes in many different versions, unfortunately. There’s the SOD’s wife who has a different set of answers she expects. And you have to feed her the same way you fed the SOD. ‘Oh,’ you should say. ‘That’s so interesting. I couldn’t imagine…’ And here you might throw in a ‘goodness me’ and an ‘oh, my!’ or two. The important thing is keep the flow going—the SODs in all versions know everything, and you are amazed by all their wisdom and worldly ways. So that’s how it works. You are an empty cup. The SODs are all full teapots. Remember that, and you’ll get along fine. I am beginning to have trouble playing the empty cup. It will be a good thing for you to try out the empty-cup thing in your head because I know, and you do too, that both of us are very smart girls full of useful things we know about how the world works. And it’s easy to slip and show it. What will happen if you slip? Ah, another good question! You can get away with a few slips, but then you will be scowled at. And then the scowling will lead to ‘ah hems,’ and those will lead to a series of corrective pats: dear, dear, then excuse me dear, then oh deardeardear. Then you’re in trouble. Dear. So practice. As I understand the principle of the thing, young girls (and boys) fit into the order of things as empty teacups. Kings and queens and dukes and duchesses and the like, these are the fullest teapots, people older than you are also fuller, then young people have to fight it out for order on down the line. Then there’s the whole servant order. I’ll get to that in another letter.”
But Alyssa took it in stride and wrote back that it would be worth it to be a temporary princess. For her part, new things, she said, would be the interesting part. Every day would begin with new things and end with new things. She wrote that she could imagine how thrilling it would be talking for the first time to a SOD or SOD-like personage at a castle ball, dressed in her silky gowns with light everywhere and soft murmurings of lords and ladies. She said also she could imagine that this might wear out eventually and she’d be looking for more new excitement. But the first time! The second time even! She was ready. Bring on a whole flock of SODs and she’d herd them like she did the geese on the farm. And by the way, there’s one big gander that will come after you if you turn your back on him. He’s mean and sneaky. Be alert. He much more dangerous than a SOD.
On my side, I could hardly wait to be rid of all that “stuff” and get on with the manure shoveling, the planting and hoeing and simple dinner and…and… Again, my mind jumped to school, how it would smell different and be like learning a new song to sing to myself every day. I thought about all this as if it would be Christmas and birthdays all wrapped into one. And if someone discovered us? And if someone made us stop. Well, I knew I had enough power to keep Alyssa out of trouble. I hoped. They would have to see that it was all my fault, and Alyssa just went along. Humm. It would be like a joke that didn’t work, or a test. That’s it, a test of the system. We’d be celebrated as heroes… Yeah, sure. The bad what-ifs were too unpleasant to think about. I would just think about glorious days of dirty fingernails and planting and harvesting. We’d work with catastrophe if and when it came along.
And so we learned each other’s life by letters. The courier trekked back and forth with the instructions that he was keeping up a friendship that pleased me, and that the correspondence was good for royal relations with the people of the kingdom. On each end we both read and studied up on the other life until the day would come when we were both ready.
Alyssa wrote to me. “There will be some things you’ll have to know about farm life. For example, things have to be done on two schedules: right now, and regularly. The right now part is when something breaks or an animal is sick or a storm is coming. Cows and horses and goats and sheep give birth at any hour, and when they do, middle of the night or not, they would like your help, thank you. They never say thank you, but you can see they like the help. Anyway, when they give birth it’s messy and the sheep especially are goofy and don’t seem especially present even when they give birth. This may be my own personal relationship with sheep, but they don’t seem to have much going on between their ears, and birthing seems to confuse them further. Horses and cows, now, that’s all very different, and when it’s going right they really don’t need you and you’re in the way, mostly. Pigs, too, but you have to get the babies out of the way so the sow doesn’t accidentally sit on one and squash it. Horses and cows, not the same problem. But when something is not right, then you are in the game up to your elbows sometimes. My father expects everyone to lend hands, elbows, knees, whatever is necessary because all animals are valuable. They are the farm’s money, and everyone of the critters is ‘walking gold’ as my father says. You might be expected to get very gooey, so get used to it quickly. And then there’s Jake. As the youngest, and a boy, he has certain privileges. But not too many. You will be expected to help keep him reasonable, to help civilize him. I already told you about his tree swinging habit. If you can’t find him, look up. On top of buildings, in trees, perched somewhere like a crow looking out over his domain. He is not a tame creature. That’s all I can tell you to get ready for him. What you don’t expect is what you’ll get. You have never been in charge of anyone else, I think. You will be in charge of Jake according to mother, but according to Jake you will not be in charge of anything but the wind blowing through trees.”
And so the letters got thicker and thicker as we each tried to tell our life to the other one so she could try it out. It was hardest for me to think about being in charge of a little brother. I realized that I hadn’t been in charge of anything but myself for all my life. People, other people, had been in charge of everything else. In a castle there are many places to hide a bunch of letters. But at her house, Alyssa said she hid them deep into the barn rafters where even Jake did not go.
The switch was easy. The clothes in the carriage, an arranged meeting, tea time alone in the barn, a makeup kit, a hair
cut, scuffed shoes. It was done. We held our breaths as we emerged from the barn and into each other’s lives. No one on either side took a second look; they were so used to how we looked side by side.
The kingdom was somewhere, somehow shuddering at its foundation as its future queen picked up a milking pail and set about her chores. And the farm girl looked past the row of servants pretending that nothing gleaming and glittering meant anything to her. We both chuckled inside. But outside, we joyously began going about the other one’s life. Oh, the freckles, yes. We painted mine on until the sun would bring them out naturally. For Alyssa, I brought some waxy court makeup she could use until hers faded. Done!
I can still feel the beautiful weight of the milking pail, the grin I worked hard to stifle, the warm side of the cow where I rested my forehead. I milked the way Alyssa had instructed: always put your hand gently on the udder at first because it seems to relax the cow and tell her what you’re there for, then start slow and loose, then tighten as you come down each teat like gently ringing out a wet cloth. And Alyssa walked off a princess, magic transformation made by clothes and how she held her head and the charged air of authority she radiated around her. Right from the first instant, she seemed to have it down perfectly.
Alyssa’s first words as princess were these. “See to it that the family has sufficient money to repay them for the refreshments and the trouble of our visit.” I almost broke out laughing. She stifled a grin. “Oh and a little extra”—and here she royally gestured a circle with her hand to show how much more—“for their time. A farmer’s time is money, and we should recognize that.” And then more gestures, maybe one or two too many, but she certainly had the right idea. Draw all the attention to herself to keep it away from the farm girl she left behind.
My new life began like this. “I’ll get that, mother,” I said to my new and puzzled mother who was cleaning up after the royal event in her yard. “Let me,” and she handed me the chair she had brought out from the living room, the chair that was never sat on by any royal behind or any other behind during the whole event. I began cleaning up like any good daughter and looked around to see if I could find Jake and begin my stewardship of his life. My mistake was looking around on the ground until I remembered Alyssa’s Jake-spotting instructions: look up. I began with the barn roof, then the shed, and then a rustling in a big beech tree drew my attention. There he was like an exotic bird, flashes of his red shirt between the leaves.
“Jake,” I called up to him. “Give me some help, please.” The leaves stopped shaking. He was in hiding. “I have something for you if you help me.” I had brought one shiny, unpolished gemstone from the castle, something that could be found anywhere but just rare enough to interest Jake. I patted my pocket. “It’s right here.” And I went about my work. I could almost hear him thinking and wondering high in the tree. One thing about wild critters: they are curious.
Then slowly, branch by branch he swung his way to the ground, wiped off his hands on his pants, and edged over to me. Here was the test. If he was to be fooled, it would have to be now.
He eyed me cautiously, like a deer, skittish, as if something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. I got the feeling that my disguise that seemed to fool Alyssa’s parents and the entire group of adults, had not been enough to convince Jake. It seemed he was sensing something besides my appearance, maybe smell or something else, and all was not quite right in his brain. I pulled out the stone with my back to him and held it up to the sun so that yellow and blue flashed in his direction. I waited. And I could hear him slowly coming up behind me to get a better look at what I had for him. I turned the stone this way and that to get the most flash; it was as if I had some tasty morsel and a hungry creature was snuffing the air behind me. And then there he was by my side.
“What is that? Is it for me? Let me see.” The moment of truth.
Jake’s attention was completely on the stone. I reached out and put my hand on his mop of hair and its twigs and leaves he wore like a wild crown. He relaxed and reached for the stone.
I explained matter-of-factly, “I found this digging in the new part of the garden. If I find more I’ll save them for you too.”
He held the stone up to the light, turned his back and walked off with his treasure, swung casually up to a lower branch in the maple and perched there as if all were right with the world. He turned the stone to catch the light, and I knew I had passed the first test. Next time I might need more than a flashy stone.
Chapter Three
What was going to be a trial week, we agreed, quickly turned into a trial month. Thirty very exciting days of trying out all we had learned of the other’s life. It was like playing a role in a play but every day, all day long. The life in the castle turned out to be so regulated that it was very easy to fit in. Alyssa wrote me that it was “like just picking up your feet and being swept along in the routine.”
I found the farm life exactly what I’d always wanted but more complicated because of the decisions I had to make every day. Sick animals, my “parents’” expectations indicated to me by silent nods or raised eyebrows, care for my brother that was expected and not explained, all these and other things made my part more difficult, I think. And once, well, once Jake blew the whistle. He broke out all his doubts about me at once.
“You’re not my sister,” he blurted, pointing at me. “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re not my sister, anyway.” I had asked him to do something, something he didn’t want to. His opening shot stopped me in my tracks.
I held my breath. The truth of Jake’s words hung in the air as if an elephant had wondered into the room and sat by the fire. Jake was eight going on nine and seemed to see right through the whole charade from the beginning. But it was as if with the gift-stone he saw it as a game to play. Until that day. “You can’t tell me to go to bed. You’re not my sister.”
My new mother saved the day. “He’s overtired,” she said. “He had a big day and didn’t slow down once. I’ll put him to bed tonight.”
I exhaled. The air came slowly back into the room. Everything normal again.
And after that one time, Jake seemed to accept me completely, as if he got the idea of the game and now went along with the rules peacefully. But I knew right there behind those brown eyes lurked the key to the whole charade. He could pull back the curtain any time he wanted to, and the play-acting would come to a crashing halt. I gave him half of my dessert, his favorite, sweet egg pudding.
I woke each morning eager to get my hands into the dirt, to feel the weight and sway of the shovel as I cleaned the barn. The hayloft was guarded by an owl, and each morning I greeted the owl with small hoots I hoped might be taken for hello in owl-talk. Then the three cows, one by one, I addressed as formally as it is possible to address a cow. “Angie, you’re the best.” I stroked her between the eyes. “But Cindy, you are the second best, and I have noticed that once in a while, you’re actually the best. For a time. And then you’re second best again,” I babbled diplomatically because the cows, though new to my acquaintance, had quickly become my favorites. “And June. Oh, June, June. You try, but then, well…there are circumstances, I know. The other two, talk and… I know. It’s difficult being the third one sometimes.” I rubbed June extra hard between the eyes and scratched a twitching ear, and she seemed to realize that being third had somehow made her special, more special than the other two.
I went through my morning ritual with giggles; I admit to finding myself hilarious. All part of my new joy, I figured. When I was a princess, I had never thought of myself as quite this funny. Owl, manure, cow, and then one more thing. Always one more thing I looked for to improve the barn: hang the tools straight, oil one harness, pull a weed near the door, clean the small windows built into the foundation so the light came through clearly. And sing. The animals all seemed to like hearing my singing as if it reassured them that everything was fine in the barn world. Alyssa had said that she sang while working, and she left me a
list of songs she knew. I knew four of the ten songs on the list. I would have to learn the other six if we could keep this going. So I sang Alyssa’s songs, in case anyone else was listening. But I also sang made-up songs about owls or cows or chickens. One of them went like this.
When hoot owls have a fancy party,
Do they call the mice?
When owls run out of party food,
Do those birds think twice?
Are the guests the next to be on plates
With parsley and small crackers?
Would a mouse’s tail fill the bill of fare
For those hooty, owly snackers?
Not such a wonderful song, I know, but I just made it up right there in the barn while not one but two owls looked down on me from the rafters. The next verse had cats in it and something about them eating mice too, but I can’t remember all the words to that part. The barn to me was a better sort of castle where all kinds of things came together: work, animals, and fine rich smells. Every day the smells and sounds changed from the day before: the hay dried out more, the cows belched and pooped their contribution, the sparrows and swallows and finches flavored it all with songs. I loved to walk into the barn door slowly like a guest sneaking in. I suppose that’s where the song came from. I’d be as silent as I could to see if I could catch all the creatures being themselves.
I wanted this life to go on forever. No dressing for formal occasions, no shoes that pinched, no smiling at people I found awful and odious. I felt as if I had been leading the wrong life and now had magically returned to the life I was born for. My fingernails quickly chipped and became impossibly dirty. I tried a princess habit of cleaning, but it took too much time. I tucked my hair into a cap to keep it out of my face. This life felt as right as wind through trees, water over stones. I thought the month would be up too soon.
The Princess Gardener Page 3