Chapter Thirteen

By the time May arrived it was almost too hot to go to school. The windows and doors of the log schoolhouse were kept open all day long in an attempt to lure inside any breeze that happened by. This made it necessary for the teacher to move among the students with a fly swatter to keep the flies, bees, and mosquitoes under control.

Just when Elisa would be close to having the answer to one of her arithmetic problems about the number of apples left in a bushel, or about making change at the dry goods store, a loud “Swat!” would ruin her concentration and she’d have to start over.

Writing May dates in her journal made Elisa think about her birthday to come—and her last birthday. Could it really have been almost a year since her last shopping trip with Papa in Pernambuco? In some ways that day didn’t seem long ago at all. But when Elisa thought about all the family had been through since moving to America, she realized it had been a very long year after all.

“I don’t really need anything for my birthday, Mama,” Elisa announced at breakfast in the middle of May. “I know you have to spend money on the farm. Please don’t worry about getting me a gift.”

“Oh, really?” Mama teased. “Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

On the morning of May 18, Elisa spent extra time getting dressed for school. There would be an awards program that day and she fully expected to win the award for best penmanship. The prize was a collection of poetry by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and a set of goose quill pens—more than enough to get her through the summer.

Elisa chose a calico dress with pink flowers and tied a pink ribbon in the back of her hair so everyone would see it when she walked forward to accept her award. That’s when she realized she was feeling very prideful.

“Forgive me, Lord,” she prayed before going downstairs. “I know every good gift comes from You, including any talent I have. If I win an award today, let it be to Your glory, not mine.”

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” everyone yelled when Elisa finally came into the kitchen for breakfast. Next to her place stood a small walnut bookcase with two shelves that Cousin Albert had made.

“Happy birthday, Cousin Elisa,” Cousin Albert said with hardly a hint of a French accent. “For your twelfth birthday, a case for your books.”

“Oh, Albert! It’s beautiful! I love it!” Elisa said. Then she noticed the presents everyone else had piled on her chair and hurried to open them before leaving for school.

First there was a new journal from Cecile, one that she had been given but hadn’t used yet. Elisa had admired it for ages.

“Oh, Cile! Are you sure you don’t want this yourself?” Elisa squealed when she saw it.

“I want you to have it more, Lizzie. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you so much.”

“My gift is that I’m going to do your chores all week,” Emmanuel piped in.

“Those are great gifts—and they go together!” Elisa said. “Now I’ll have time to write in my new journal.”

The largest gift was from Mama. It was lumpy and bulky. When Elisa tore open the wrapping, she saw a beautiful soft yellow and white blanket her mother had knitted for her. The pattern was the same one Mama had used for a blanket she had made for Cecile several years before.

“Oh, Mama! It’s beautiful. When did you have time to do this?”

“I completed most of it while I sat up with Papa at night. We both wanted you to have it for your trousseau,” Mama said.

“I’ll treasure it always—and I’ll never lose it. I promise!”

“Open our present, Lizzie! Open ours!” Albertine cried out.

“Yes, hurry!” Adele added.

The package made a crunchy sound when Elisa picked it up.

“Whatever could this be?” she wondered.

Inside were two dolls made of cornhusks. They had dried apples for heads and raisins for eyes. Each was wearing a pinafore the girls had fashioned out of some of Mama’s sewing scraps.

“These are wonderful!” Elisa said. “They make me happy just looking at them. Thank you, sisters!”

The rest of the day went as well as it had begun. Elisa did win the award. When she got home, she put the slim volume of Coleridge poetry right on the new bookcase that Cousin Albert had carried up to her bedroom. That evening, Mama surprised Elisa with a round birthday cake with real flowers on top, and after supper the girls danced around in the yard like fairies.

Elisa was sad that Papa wasn’t with her on her birthday this year, but reading her Bible that day at school helped her feel closer to him. “So teach us to number our days,” she read in Psalm 90, “that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”

During math class that day, Elisa decided she would number the days Papa had been alive. First she multiplied forty-nine years by fifty-two weeks, then multiplied that total by seven days per week. Papa died on January 26, just seventeen days before his fiftieth birthday on February 12, so she subtracted seventeen from 365 and added that to the total.

“I know Your ways are higher than our ways, Lord,” she said in her prayers that night. “But I’ll never understand why You gave someone as good as Papa only 18,184 days to live on this earth.”

*  *  *

The last day of school was one of mixed emotions for Elisa. She loved the thought of free time, longer days, and warm evenings on the front porch watching her sisters chase after lightnin’ bugs. Still, she knew she would miss seeing her friends every day. At least this summer she knew lots of people.

“I hope you’ll be coming to all the youth activities at the Presbyterian church this summer,” Alfred Buffat said to her at recess. “The elders voted to allow us to have dances too. We’re even going to learn the Virginia reel.”

The whole time Alfred was talking to her, Elisa was trying not to look at his head. He had always had such nice hair, trimmed so it covered the tops of his ears, and with a lock of dark curls in the middle of his forehead. Now Alfred’s hair was cut so close it almost looked like his head had been shaved. Finally Elisa’s curiosity got the best of her.

“Forgive me for asking, Alfred,” Elisa began, “but what happened to your hair? Was there an outbreak of head lice at your house, or do you always have shorter hair in the summer?”

“Neither one,” Alfred blushed. “My father caught me taking particular pains styling my hair in front of the looking glass. He said I was being far too vain and that he knew the perfect remedy. I had to sit on a stool in the front yard while he cropped off all my hair.”

“Well, I’m sure it will grow back nicely,” Elisa managed to say. She was glad to hear the teacher calling the pupils back inside so she could turn away from Alfred before he saw that she was trying not to laugh. Then Elisa remembered her own vanity the day of the awards ceremony. She said a silent prayer for Alfred.

*  *  *

In late May, Elisa watched the buds on the magnolia trees closely so she could bring the first blossom she saw inside to Mama. By the time the magnolia trees burst into bloom, filling the night air with their intoxicating fragrance as their giant blossoms glowed in the moonlight, Emmanuel and Cousin Albert were already seeing ears of corn forming on the stalks and tiny green beans on the vines.

Then it was time for Cousin Albert to show Emmanuel how to cut the hay. The girls helped rake it into rows with hand rakes. Then it was forked into stacks pitched onto the hay wagon to be hauled to the barn. Elisa thought the smell of fresh mown hay was every bit as wonderful as the fragrance of the magnolia blossoms. She hoped she would never have to miss spring in Tennessee, and she was sorry she ever questioned the Lord for sending it. After all, spring gave birth to summer.

With the crops doing well, and the family beginning to recover from the trauma of losing Papa, Mama announced that she and the girls would be able to make several weekend visits during the summer.

Elisa was delighted, especially since the first visit would be to the Chavannes farm and she would get to see Emma. The plan was to stop for Mary and Lily Esperandieu on the way. Elisa was especially excited about Lily bringing her pony.

The first Friday in June, Mama packed a basket with two loaves of homemade bread and a strawberry pie made with the first berries of the summer. Just Cecile and Elisa were going with Mama this time. The younger girls were staying home with Emmanuel and Cousin Albert.

The girls packed their nightclothes in the satchel with Mama’s nightclothes and knitting. Then with Elisa carrying the basket and Cecile carrying the satchel, the threesome started down the dusty road.

What a merry group they were after they left the Esperandieus. Mama didn’t want to ride, so the girls took turns on Lily’s pony. When it was Elisa’s turn, she set off at a gallop. Being out in front of the group made her feel like performing.

“Yippee! Look at me!” Elisa called out. “I’m a circus showgirl!”

Elisa had seen showgirls at a circus in Knoxville that she had attended with her classmates. Like them, she rode for a while with the reins in her teeth and her hands in the air. Then she stood up in the stirrups.

“Bet you can’t do this, Cile!” she called, as she put all her weight on her left foot and stuck her right foot straight out behind her. She rode standing in the saddle, then kneeling, and finally kneeling backward, much to the delight of most of the audience behind her.

“Please be careful, dear!” Mama shouted over the sound of the girls’ laughter.

When it was time for Elisa to dismount and let Cecile have a turn, she wanted to do it with flair, so she attempted to jump from the saddle to the ground. But on the way down her skirt caught on the saddle horn, and Elisa flipped around and fell onto the dirt road, landing hard on her right elbow.

“Oh, my arm!” Elisa cried out. “It hurts so much. I can’t move it!”

The fall dislocated Elisa’s elbow and split the bone. She couldn’t lift her arm to look at it, but she knew it was bent in the wrong direction. The look on Mama’s face told her all she needed to know. Suddenly Elisa noticed that all the faces looking down at her were swimming around in a circle. Then she fainted.

While Elisa was unconscious, Mama pulled on her arm to try to get it back into joint, but it still wasn’t right. By the time she came to, the arm was badly swollen.

“Cecile, get your nightdress out of the satchel.” Mama said. “Let’s see if we can make a sling out of it.” Working together, Mama and the girls managed to get Elisa up on the pony behind Lily. They took her on to the Chavannes farm since they were almost there when the accident happened.

As soon as they arrived, Albert Chavannes rode to fetch Dr. Clark.

By the time Dr. Clark arrived, Emma and Mrs. Chavannes had helped Mama and Cecile get Elisa into bed. She looked so pale surrounded by all the white feather pillows they had piled behind her head and under her hurt arm.

“So we have an injured showgirl here, do we?” Dr. Clark said when he entered the room with his black leather bag. Elisa hadn’t seen Dr. Clark since Papa died, and she actually wondered if she was dying now too. If so, at least I’ll be with Papa again, she thought.

Dr. Clark tried to be as gentle as possible as he took Elisa’s hand and pulled on her arm to straighten it out, but she screamed in pain.

“I’m sorry to hurt you, dear,” the doctor said. “I’m just trying to discover the extent of the injury. I’m going to order cold compresses for a few days to get the swelling down, and then I’ll be back to look at the arm again.”

“Do you think her elbow is back in place, Dr. Clark?” Mama asked as she gently patted Elisa’s forehead to calm her. “We heard a snap when I pulled on it, but I’m concerned that I may not have done it right.”

“You were brave to try to set it at all, Mrs. Bolli,” Dr. Clark said. “We’ll know more when the swelling goes down. I have an apparatus that can help us straighten the arm out more if need be. For now, I think we should just let her rest and wait to see how much healing occurs naturally.”

Mama showed Dr. Clark out while Mrs. Chavannes, Emma, Cecile, Lily, and Mary hovered around Elisa. This gave Mama a chance to talk to the doctor alone, but she didn’t learn anything more except that the injury was definitely a serious one.

“Dr. Clark says we shouldn’t move her for at least ten days,” Mama announced when she came back into the bedroom. “I’m afraid we’ve created quite an inconvenience for you,” she said to Mrs. Chavannes.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Chavannes said. “You know you are welcome to stay here as long as necessary. Having you here will make it easier for Emma and me to help you take care of Elisa. And we can pray together for her healing.”

“You’re so kind. I’m afraid we have no other choice. Thank you so much,” Mama said.

“Cecile, I’ll stay here with Elisa until we can move her,” Mama continued. “You should go home with Lily and Mary and let the rest of our family know what happened. Tell them Elisa is going to be fine. She just needs some time to recover.”

“Then I’m not dying?” Elisa asked in a weak voice.

“No, dear. Not this time,” Mama laughed. “But you might want to be a bit more careful in the future.”

Elisa was in a great deal of pain, and she was very upset about ruining the visit to the Chavanneses.

“Oh, Emma, I messed up all our plans to take hikes and ride horses together this summer,” Elisa said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, Elisa,” Emma said. “And lie still. I’m supposed to be keeping these cold compresses on your arm.”

Emma stayed up night after night to help Mama care for Elisa. Finally, when Elisa was able to travel, Reverend Chavannes took her and her mother home in his buggy.

Dr. Clark paid regular visits to the Bolli farm to check on Elisa. He was concerned that her arm remained so crooked, so on one of the visits he brought the apparatus for straightening her elbow. Elisa couldn’t believe it was actually going to be put on her arm when she first saw it. There were metal cuffs to go around her upper arm and her lower arm. Metal rods attached the cuffs to a padded, metal cup that fit over her elbow. The rods were attached to the elbow cup, which had a large metal screw sticking out of it.

“That looks like some medieval torture system I’ve seen in the history text at school,” Elisa said when Dr. Clark first showed her the apparatus.

“I know, dear, but if you twist the screw gently every day, the change in your arm will be gradual and it shouldn’t hurt. You may take the apparatus off an hour a day to bathe, but I want you to wear it the rest of the time, even to sleep, until the screw is all the way into the metal cup here.” Dr. Clark explained. “That tightens the rods which force your arm to straighten out.”

Cecile, Albertine, and Adele all helped keep Elisa company during her long recuperation. Cecile went to one of the youth gatherings at Spring Place Presbyterian Church that Alfred had told Elisa about the last day of school. She told her sister all about it when she got home.

“You’ll love the Virginia reel,” Cecile said as she sat on Elisa’s bed to tell her about the dance. “It’s kind of like the cotillions and quadrilles we know, but the music’s a lot more lively. We even had fiddles! You take the hand of the boy opposite you and then you pull one another through the square.”

“Oh, no!” Elisa groaned as she grabbed her sore arm. “Now I know I’m not going!”

After a while Elisa was allowed to get out of bed. By the Fourth of July, she felt well enough to ride in the back of a wagon with her cousins to the parade in Knoxville. Her arm hurt the whole day, and she didn’t do much flag-waving, but she did get to see the horses in their fancy saddles and all the clowns and musicians.

The town was so colorful. Everyone had red, white, and blue festoons hanging on their front porches. An American flag hung from every lamp post on Gay Street. The French-Swiss children had studied the American Revolution at Spring Place School, so they knew all about Independence Day. The highlight of the day, July 4, 1854, was the arrival of Knoxville’s first train.

Elisa was crowded into the back of the Esperandieus’ wagon with the other children. Cecile sat on her right side to protect her injured arm.

“I can’t see, Cile,” Elisa complained. “I think I hear the train, but I can’t see anything.”

“I see the steam from the engine in the distance,” Cecile said. “Come on. I’ll help you stand up so you can see better.”

“That looks like the same train we took from Savannah to Loudon on our trip from Brazil,” Elisa said when the train screeched to a halt and blew its whistle. The crowd cheered wildly.

“It could be,” Cile yelled over the shouting. “But I imagine they all look quite a bit alike.”

“It’s exciting to think about coming straight here by train instead of having to take the stagecoach from Loudon to Knoxville,” Elisa said. “I wish Papa could see this. He would be so excited.”

“Me, too, Lizzie,” Cecile said. “Just think—when we’re older, we could leave right from here by train and see all of America—even New York City!”

“Right now, I just want to sit down again,” Elisa said, and Cecile helped her back down onto the wagon bed.

After seeing the train, the families gathered at the Esperandieus for a picnic on the grounds. The children took turns cranking the homemade ice cream. Elisa didn’t have to crank because of her elbow, but she got to eat some of the creamy vanilla ice cream just the same.

Even though Elisa was careful to tighten the screw each day as Dr. Clark had instructed, the apparatus failed to straighten her arm completely. Finally, at the beginning of August, Dr. Clark determined that Elisa would just have to learn to live with a crooked arm and he told her she could stop wearing the dreadful apparatus. To make her feel better about the situation, he also told her she could resume her walks, but only if she was very careful not to fall. She had to leave Turk behind for fear he would accidentally trip her.

Elisa was determined to put the accident behind her, and she worked hard at learning to write again after not being able to use her arm for so long. Over and over she copied the inscription Papa had written in his strong hand in the front of her Bible. Elisa Bolli—Donné par son cher Papa—Mai 18, 1853. Just seeing Papa’s handwriting inspired her to keep trying. By the end of the summer, she felt her penmanship had almost returned to its award-winning form.

She also did a lot of talking to God. Elisa didn’t understand why something else bad had to happen just when the family was beginning to recover from Papa’s death. One Sunday when the Chavannes family stopped by to visit, she asked Reverend Chavannes if God was punishing her for her vanity, or for showing off in front of her friends.

“You hurt your elbow because you fell off the pony,” Reverend Chavannes said. “That’s the beginning and the end of it. The Lord Jesus told us we would have trouble in this world. But He promised to be with us through the trouble. And He has been with you through yours.”

Elisa knew this was true. She had felt the Lord’s presence as she grieved for Papa. She knew He had also helped her elbow to heal and given her the strength to hike and write again. Taking the truth Reverend Chavannes showed her into her heart helped Elisa accept the pain she had been through, and the pain that was to come.

*  *  *

In August, Elisa was also able to go to several of the dances at Spring Place Presbyterian Church. She learned to do the Virginia reel, and the boys were very careful not to hurt her bad arm.

All the way home from a dance one night, Elisa and Cecile giggled about being squared off with Alfred Buffat and Albert Chavannes. Emmanuel and Cousin Albert had gone to the dance too. They were escorting the girls home in the dark, but following at a safe distance to avoid giggling.

Suddenly, the girls screamed and began running for home.

“What’s the matter with you two?” Emmanuel called after them.

“It’s a bat!” Elisa cried. “It’s diving at us!”

“He’s probably more afraid of you than you are of him,” Emmanuel called when he saw the dark, bird-like shape zipping through the night sky.