Go Away Home

by Carol Bodensteiner

  Chapter 13

  “Have you seen these photos?” Liddie directed Minnie’s attention to the pictures displayed in the Littmann Studio window. Since the photography studio had opened in late October, the window had become a favorite addition to her morning walk. On the way to Mrs. Tinker’s, she usually walked down Main Street, since it was less crowded in the early morning and she enjoyed seeing what was new in the window displays. At the end of the day, she returned to the boardinghouse on a route that took her by the library or down a residential street.

  “I have,” Minnie said. “They’re different, aren’t they? The ladies who come into the store can’t seem to make up their minds whether they like them or not.”

  “Well, I like them,” Liddie said. From the first time she’d seen them, she’d been drawn to the pictures, so different from the usual stiff portraits she associated with a photography studio. Children romping in a park, men fishing off a riverbank, a woman playing a piano while another woman stood at her side singing. The photos showed people in everyday life, acting so normally. That alone was enough to attract her.

  The more she studied the images, though, the more she detected a symmetry that reminded her of formal photos.

  As a little girl, Liddie had been fascinated by the only portrait of her family that existed, one taken before Liddie was born. Papa sat next to a small table, his legs crossed at the knees. With his dark hair and full mustache, Liddie thought him incredibly handsome. Mama stood behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, her hair in a neat bun. She wore her dark dress—a dress otherwise worn only for weddings and funerals—adorned with buttons that stretched diagonally from her left shoulder to her waist. Vern, still a baby, was wearing ruffled pantaloons and sitting atop the table. Four-year-old Amelia stood slightly apart from the group, her right arm on the table.

  Whenever she looked at that portrait, she tried to imagine herself in the photograph. Without such an image to prove she was part of the family, how would people know? For the better part of her sixth year, she fretted about that problem. Later on, she worried because there were no photos of her and her father. As she looked at the images in the window of Littmann Studio, that ache that she’d never have such a photograph returned.

  Eventually, she had realized the difference between the images in the window and formal photographs: she wanted to know the people in the candid photographs.

  “Have you met the photographer?” Liddie asked.

  “No. He apparently has no need of ladies’ gloves,” Minnie joked.

  They kept walking down Main Street, enjoying the rare sunshine of the cool November day. They hadn’t gone more than half a block when Liddie abruptly pushed open the door to the drugstore and stepped in, pulling Minnie along with her. Leaning against the door, she willed her heart to stop racing. She didn’t think Harley had seen her. She hoped he had not.

  “What are you doing?” Minnie asked.

  “I thought of something I needed.” Liddie peeked out the window from behind a display. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be back in Maquoketa, but then again, it was almost Thanksgiving. He could be home from college.

  “You didn’t have to be so abrupt,” Minnie huffed, straightening her coat. “What do you need?”

  Liddie scanned the drugstore. “Notepaper.” She strode to a shelf stocked with tablets like the ones she had used in school and picked up a thick pad.

  Minnie looked at her in dismay. “They have paper that’s much nicer. How about this?” She picked up a box of white sheets. “Or this?” She picked up another box with paper the color of pink roses.

  Liddie pretended to assess each sample Minnie handed to her. She didn’t really care. When she caught the glimpse of copper-red hair among a group of men down the street, she knew it was Harley.

  The memory of the last time she saw him before he left for school in Illinois lingered like a festering wound, as ragged and sore as if she’d seen him yesterday instead of three months ago.

  He’d sought her out a number of times after that first evening in the library, showing up to walk a few blocks with her on her way home from work and to invite her to watch him play at a ball game or to have an ice cream at a social. At Minnie’s urging, she finally said yes.

  “Why not?” Minnie had argued. “You’ll have fun.”

  She prepared so carefully for that date. Her first date ever. She wore a dress she’d made of lightweight cotton trimmed with dotted swiss. She fashioned a band for her hair from the same fabric.

  She felt pretty. Harley said she looked nice, and when he introduced her to his friends at the social, she was bashful yet pleased. At the end of the afternoon, when he walked her to Mrs. Prescott’s door, he asked her out again. She said yes.

  His primary interest appeared to be his own sports accomplishments. This wasn’t a topic she had much interest in, but she continued to let him court her anyway. She didn’t see the harm, and it was useful to have an escort.

  “Harley!” she’d exclaimed, blushing when he stole a kiss on their third date. She had not stopped him when he kissed her again on their fourth date. Afterward—with her mother’s admonitions about being “good” echoing in her head—she thought it was her fault, that she’d encouraged him.

  As the end of the summer and his departure for college in Carbondale approached, he became more insistent. During what would be their last time together, they emerged from the theater into a humid August night.

  “Soda or walk?” he asked.

  She touched her fingers to the back of her neck. They came away damp with perspiration. “A soda would be nice, but it’s too hot to go inside again. There’s a little breeze. Let’s walk.”

  “Walk it is.” He put her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Chaplin was great.”

  “He was. I couldn’t stop laughing.” She searched for another topic. “I bet you’re looking forward to college.”

  “I’d as soon stay here. With you.” He squeezed her hand against his side. “But since I’m going to Southern Illinois, where Pa went, I’ll play football this fall.”

  “You’ll be good at it, I’m sure,” Liddie said, noticing how quickly he switched from her to football. She didn’t think she’d miss him.

  They walked to the field where she often came to watch him play baseball.

  “Want to sit down?” He motioned to a bench, then sat so close to her that when she edged away, she wound up balanced a couple inches off the end of the bench. He closed the distance, putting an arm behind her. “You’re not going to make me go off to college without a kiss, are you, Liddie?”

  She knew he would not want to stop at one kiss. Still, he was going away, and she had been seeing him for two months. “One kiss,” she said.

  “That’s my girl.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaned in, and found her lips with his.

  Soon she was gasping for breath. “One kiss. One kiss!” She slid her hands between them, turning her head away as he tried to kiss her again.

  “Come on, Liddie. It’s not like we just met,” he protested. “I’m going away and I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. As he kissed her again, she twisted and he found only half her mouth.

  “Stop it, Harley.” She spoke firmly as she struggled to wiggle out of his embrace.

  “Aw, don’t be a tease. You want to as much as I do. I know you do.”

  “I don’t. Now stop it and let me go!”

  She pushed against his chest. He didn’t let go. When she heard the fabric of her dress tear, she scratched and bit. She tasted blood, and she didn’t know if it was hers or his.

  “What the hell, Liddie!” he growled, jerking back.

  As soon as she felt his grip lessen, Liddie leaped to her feet and ran.

  “Aw, come back, Liddie,” he called after her. “I
t was just a kiss.”

  By some miracle, she had made it to her room without anyone at the boardinghouse seeing her. It had taken a half hour before her breathing returned to normal, before she stopped shaking. She could still hear him yelling, “It was just a kiss.” Had it been? Had she overreacted? She had never told anyone about that night, not even Minnie. Instead, she had counted the days until he left for college. Only then did she breathe easy.

  When she’d received a letter from him a couple of weeks later apologizing, telling her he hadn’t meant to scare her, she’d wondered if it had all been her fault. She hadn’t responded.

  “How about this one?” Minnie handed her yet another box of stationery.

  “This is nice.” She took the pink paper.

  “I thought that was you.” The familiar voice interrupted them.

  Liddie whirled around, a blush creeping up her neck as she fumbled to avoid dropping the box of paper. “Harley,” she said.

  “I thought I saw you, and then you were gone. I figured you might have come in here.”

  “I needed . . . some things.” She noticed that he’d put on a little weight and wondered if he was playing football.

  “Were you going to write to me?” He gestured to the paper she held.

  She blushed fully.

  “You didn’t answer my letter,” he said.

  “Oh. Well. No.” Liddie studied the box of notepaper, wishing he would leave.

  “Say, I’m home until Sunday. Would you like to go to a movie this weekend?”

  “I’m going home for the weekend,” she mumbled. She felt Minnie’s eyes on her wondering at the bald-faced lie. Liddie had never disabused Minnie of the belief that the only reason she was not still seeing Harley was that he’d gone off to college.

  Harley shifted awkwardly, waiting for her to say something else. She didn’t. He looked at Minnie, then back to Liddie. Finally, he said, “I guess I’ll see you another time,” and left.

  “What was that about?” Minnie whispered as soon as he was out of earshot. “You didn’t tell me he wrote. Why don’t you want to go out with him?”

  “He’s not for me,” Liddie said.

  “I don’t see why not. He’s not bad looking. His family is well-off. And he seems to like you.”

  As Minnie ticked off what Liddie knew would also be her mother’s checklist, Liddie looked for the clerk. “I’m getting this paper,” she said. “Thanks for helping me pick it out.”

  Chapter 14

  “What do you think?” Liddie straightened the layers of crepe that formed the skirt of her dress.

  “You look beautiful.” Minnie clasped her hands to her chest. “Turn!” She twirled a hand in the air.

  Liddie revolved slowly, stopping whenever Minnie exclaimed over some detail. She had wanted a dress stylish enough for the elegance of the Caithers’ party; yet at the same time, this dress must serve for many occasions. Ultimately, she opted for a fitted bodice and slim skirt in a deep-blue crepe with only one peplum layer, though the year’s fashion favored any number of circular flounces. Ivory lace framed her neckline and continued as an inset down the bodice to her waist. The same lace adorned cuffs on three-quarter-length sleeves. She hoped both the color and design made her look more mature.

  “Choosing a dress design and this fabric was unimaginably difficult.” Liddie pivoted back and forth to catch her reflection in the mirror. “Standing in the store, surrounded by bolts of fabric in all the colors of the rainbow, I was in awe. I’d never seen so much fabric.”

  “I’d think that would be fun!”

  “I suppose it’s silly, but it was almost too much. Mama always chose the fabric for my clothes. And if she asked my opinion, it was between one or two options. Not hundreds.”

  “Didn’t Mrs. Tinker help you?”

  “She answered my questions but let me decide. I think she wanted to see what I’d do.”

  “Was she happy with your choices?”

  “She was,” Liddie admitted. Along with the design and the fabric, Mrs. Tinker approved of her decision to forgo the rhinestones and glass beads they’d used on several fancier dresses. “She said, ‘Fit in, but do not outshine. That is wise.’” Liddie searched Minnie’s face. “You don’t think it’s too plain? You should see the dresses we’re making. Some are Oriental with high collars and Mandarin sleeves. That’s big in New York right now. Mrs. Tinker says we’re lucky everyone wants to ‘buy American.’ Otherwise, women might order from overseas.”

  “This dress is perfect. You’ll have all the men staring.”

  “That would make Mama happy,” Liddie said dryly.

  “And meeting the perfect fellow would make you unhappy?”

  “I am not looking for anyone, though that seems to be what everyone cares about. And not just any man, but the ‘right’ man.”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “It’s not, I suppose. It’s only that it seems so preordained. And confusing. I heard Mama and Aunt Kate talking one day. Mama wants me to get married, but I think one reason she agreed to let me come to Maquoketa was so I wouldn’t get involved with Joe.”

  “Joe?” Minnie frowned. “You talk about him almost as though he’s a brother. Why would your mother even think that?”

  “I don’t think she did until after Joe’s girlfriend jilted him.”

  “But they like Joe. I’d have thought they’d think he was a good match.”

  “We all do. Like Joe, that is. But Mama said he doesn’t have the money to take care of a wife. Like that’s the most important thing. Even if I were thinking about Joe as a husband, which I wasn’t.”

  “But now you are?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m not thinking about anyone as a husband. I’m thinking about sewing. And becoming a dressmaker. Why does it all have to be about a husband?” Liddie stomped her foot.

  “Don’t be cross.” Minnie twirled her in a circle. “Oh, Liddie, I cannot even imagine myself in a room with all those fancy people.”

  “Truthfully, I can’t see myself there, either.” Liddie felt a rush of anxiety. She liked the way she looked, but was it a charade? Did she really belong there?

  “You’ll be positively smashing. Besides, no one expects you to come out of the party married, for heaven’s sake. Go. Have fun. That’s all.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” Liddie scanned her reflection in the mirror.

  Stepping up behind Liddie so she could see in the mirror, too, Minnie gave her a sly look. “And if you meet the man of your dreams, please don’t turn away.”

  “You never stop!” Liddie laughed. “I wish you could come with me. What will I say to any of them?”

  “Ask them about themselves. You won’t have to do any more after that.”

  “Oh!” Liddie’s breath formed a cloud that glittered like lace in the night air as she gazed up at the Caithers’ house.

  “Quite like a Christmas tree, lit up this way, isn’t it?” Mrs. Tinker commented as she peered up at the house. The aigrette feathers adorning her new blue-gray hat fluttered in the chilly breeze. Dresses were her business, but Mrs. Tinker’s preferred indulgence was elaborate hats. “They were the first in town to have electricity.”

  Every window of the massive brick house, one of the largest on Pleasant Street, was lit. Smoke coming from two huge chimneys spoke of multiple fireplaces. Unconsciously, Liddie put a hand to her throat and caressed her grandmother’s cameo. Liddie had objected when her mother lent her the family heirloom she herself wore on special occasions. But Liddie was glad to have the cameo now, on the threshold of this new world.

  “Shall we, my dear?” Mrs. Tinker took her arm as they climbed the steps to the oak and glass door.

  “Welcome, welcome! Merry Christmas,” Gladys Caither greeted them. “Ernestine, it’s so good to see you. And Miss Treadway. Welcome. My, this we
ather did turn, didn’t it?”

  When Mrs. Caither handed their coats and gloves to a maid, Liddie couldn’t help but stare. A maid!

  “Merry Christmas, Ernestine. It’s good to see you.” Ben Caither shook Mrs. Tinker’s hand and turned to Liddie. “Miss Treadway. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. Merry Christmas.”

  Mr. Caither lowered his voice. “Miss Treadway, I want to say we were saddened by your father’s death.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Caither. You knew my father?”

  “We’d done business together. He was a man good to his word.”

  If Mr. Caither was acquainted with her father and thought well of him, then maybe she was not as out of place as she had thought.

  “What a lovely dress.” Mrs. Caither surveyed Liddie’s gown. “Simple yet elegant.”

  “Thank you.” Liddie smiled, though she was uncertain from Mrs. Caither’s inflection whether she considered simplicity an asset or a deficiency.

  “Liddie has shown talent—as she did for Anna’s dress,” Mrs. Tinker interjected, skillfully directing the conversation away from Liddie and back to her customer. “That style is right for a girl past childhood but not yet an adult, don’t you think?”

  “It’s perfect,” Mrs. Caither agreed, looking across the parlor to her daughter, who was surrounded by friends. “Anna insisted on trying on the dress every day since we brought it home. I feared she would wear it out before the party!”

  As Liddie surveyed the dress she’d labored over so diligently, the satisfaction she felt during the final fitting returned. For the base fabric, she’d chosen a softer version of taffeta more often used as a lining. The fabric draped easily over Anna’s slim figure. Borrowing from some of the popular elements of the women’s dresses, Liddie had added a Mandarin collar and used a fine, lightweight brocade to bring a note of sophistication to the simple design.