With so much going on, it seemed as though Labor Day crept up on us before we knew it. The end of summer. The beginning of school. I tried not to think about it.
Mark came by in the wagon Labor Day afternoon, bringing with him a crab net and a bushel barrel full of crab lines and smelly fish heads. I was out in the yard picking a bunch of marigolds for the kitchen table.
“Mr. Pierce gave me the afternoon off,” he said. “I’m going crabbing one last time. Want to come?”
“Sure,” I said. I called through the kitchen door to Mama. “I’m going crabbing with Mark, is that all right? I’ll be home by suppertime.”
Mama came to the door. “Yes, go ahead. I wouldn’t mind having a few for crab cakes. Hello, Mark. I hear you’re going home tomorrow.”
“Yes, Ma’am, but Mr. Pierce wants me back so I’ll be here again next summer.”
I heard his words with a pang. Next summer seemed a long time away. I was going to miss him after he left, like I did when we were kids.
As we drove off, Mark called back, “We’ll bring you a whole mess of crabs if they’re biting today!”
Down at the bay, we hauled up the basket on a rickety old dock and started tying the ends of the lines around the fish heads with a sinker on each. We dropped the baited ends into the water, then looped the other ends around pilings and sat down to wait for the crabs to find the bait.
“How’s your sister?” Mark asked. “I heard she’s in Philadelphia, seeing some doctor.”
I told him about Aunt Grace knowing a doctor there who we hoped would be able to help Mary Ellen get well.
“She’s starting to feel better.” I paused for a moment. “We’re not really sure what’s the matter with her, besides the anemia. All I know is she hasn’t been herself for a while now.” Again, I felt sorry I couldn’t be completely honest with Mark. To end the subject, I jumped to my feet and began to check the crab lines.
I eased up each line inch by inch until I could see crabs clinging to the bait. Mark scooped them into the net and dangled them over the basket until they dropped off and tumbled in. Back went the lines in the water, and we sat down again to wait.
“I miss Mary Ellen,” I said. “With you leaving, I won’t have anybody I can really talk to. Mary Ellen is good about listening, but she doesn’t understand, the way you do, why I don’t want to just get married and live on a farm around here.” I shrugged. “But until she comes back, I guess I’ll have to tell my troubles to the chickens.”
Mark laughed. “Well, at least they won’t talk back. But Anna, keep believing you’ll get to high school. I can feel in my bones that you will.”
We went on pulling up and netting crabs, chatting about things we’d like to do, places we’d like to see. Mark’s dream was to go to Rome, to see for himself where all that history took place. I couldn’t pick a place I most wanted to go. There were so many to choose from, and I didn’t even know what most of them were. For now, I’d settle for my dream of high school and maybe a train trip to New York City.
When the basket was full of big, live-and-kicking blue crabs, we pulled up the lines and headed back to the farm. Mark dumped a good share of our catch into the kitchen sink, where they scrabbled around, trying to climb out.
“We had good luck,” he said to Mama. “You’ll have enough crabmeat for plenty of crab cakes.”
Mama thanked him and began filling a big pot of water for boiling the crabs.
I went back outside and stood by the wagon while Mark climbed in.
“Goodbye, Anna. I’m glad we got to know each other again. It made my summer a lot more fun.” He smiled down at me. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have done nothing but work the whole time.” He lifted the whip in a farewell salute, then picked up the reins. “Don’t forget that dream of yours. See you next summer!”
At the end of the lane, he turned and waved. I watched him drive away with a heavy heart, trying to hold on to his encouraging words and his belief in me. His leaving would leave a hole that would be hard to fill.
* * * *
For the next three weeks, Aunt Grace wrote almost every day to let us know how Mary Ellen was doing. I walked down to the general store at the crossroads to pick up the mail, unless Papa got it on the way home from clamming in the bay with Uncle Jack. Most of the time, though, they were too busy with the harvest to take time out for things like fishing or clamming.
Aunt Grace told us that Mary Ellen was staying at Dr. Grant’s private asylum near the hotel in Philadelphia where Aunt Grace had a room. At first, she said, Mary Ellen wouldn’t say much, but the doctor kept working with her and gradually she began responding.
“Dr. Grant is unusual,” Aunt Grace wrote. “Much more understanding than most doctors about the problems we women have. He mostly just talks, but he gets his patients to talk too, and he’s a good listener. He’s also been giving Mary Ellen St. John’s Wort. Says his mother swears by it for all sorts of “female complaints.”
I was relieved that Mary Ellen seemed to be improving. Aunt Grace said that instead of insisting on complete rest, like so many other doctors who treated women with “melancholia,” Dr. Grant encouraged Mary Ellen to take an interest in things, to take walks around the grounds and join some of the exercise classes. He even had Aunt Grace take her to Wanamaker’s department store in downtown Philadelphia and buy her a new dress, which would surely appeal to Mary Ellen. At least the Mary Ellen I knew.
As I was getting ready for bed one night, I overheard Mama and Papa talking in Papa’s room.
“Are you sure it was Grace’s idea to loan us the money for the doctor? You didn’t even have to ask?” Mama said.
“No, she offered soon as we decided that Mary Ellen should see Dr. Grant. I tried to argue with her; I said I’d go to the bank and see if I could arrange a loan, but she insisted. Tony did too. They said they wanted to do anything they could to help”
“But Matt, how will we pay them back?” Mama sounded worried.
“We agreed I’d pay them a little at a time, whenever I could,” Papa said. “Maybe I can get some extra work on the county roads after the harvest is in. Right now the important thing is to get Mary Ellen better. Don’t worry, El. We’ll work it out.”
There was a brief silence, and then I heard Mama cross the hall to her bedroom and the creak as Papa got into bed.
I hadn’t considered the cost of Mary Ellen’s treatment. It was one more thing to worry about, in spite of Papa’s reassuring words.
I was feeding the hens again a few days later when Uncle George Clayton came hurrying across the fields. Papa was in the barn, and I heard Uncle George call to him, “Matt, I need some help. I have to go into town to pick up a new ladder, and it’ll be too heavy for me to handle alone. D’you think you could go along and give me a hand?”
Papa emerged from the barn. “Sure thing, George. Just let me tell Ellen.”
It wasn’t until after they’d left that Mama realized that Papa had forgotten to take the ring. He hadn’t been to town these last three weeks, and the ring was still where Mama had put it, wrapped in her handkerchief and tucked into her bureau drawer.
“We must remember to remind Papa next time,” Mama said. “It gives me the heebie-jeebies to have the ring here, after what happened with that thieving Russell Irons.”
I had been absent-mindedly wiping the dishes from breakfast and putting them away in the cupboard while counting in my head how long it had been since school started. Two-and-a-half weeks already. In my despair I set a teacup down so hard the handle broke off.
I looked down in dismay. “I’m sorry, Mama! I don’t know what happened. It just broke.”
“Well, be more careful, and stop banging things around,” Mama said. “What’s got into you, anyway?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking about school having started. I just wish....”
Mama took her hands out of the sudsy water and dried them. “Wish what?” Her tone was unexpectedly gentle.
“I wish I could go to high school,” I burst out. “I’ve been wishing it all summer,”
“I wish you could too,” Mama said. “But right now I need you.” Her tone sharpened. “And anyway, we don’t have the money.”
I stood there with the dish towel and another cup in my hands. “I know that. But everything now is about Mary Ellen, and what I want doesn’t count. I want so badly to go to school, to get an education. I want it so much it hurts, and I can’t seem to think about anything else.” I put the cup away in the cupboard and hung up the dish towel. “Mama,” I said. “Can’t you understand how I feel? Didn’t you ever want something that badly, something you couldn’t have?”
Mama shook her head vigorously. “No! Nothing!” She stared out the window for a long moment before she spoke again. “I thought when I married your Papa that we’d always live in the big house where he grew up, the one where your grandmother used to live near Lakeville. Your grandmother had a hired girl, and Papa’s father had a tenant to farm the place.” Her voice trailed off, but then she spoke again. “After your grandfather died, the tenant stayed on for a while. But then he died too, and Papa couldn’t handle all the work alone. Your grandmother had to sell the farm. She bought this one for Papa and me before she moved to California to live with Uncle Hugh.”
Mama sighed. “I knew it had to be that way. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, and we’re lucky to have this place. But I’d thought that Papa and I would have an easier time, that he wouldn't have to work so hard, and that I’d be able to spend time with my music. Maybe even give piano lessons some day.”
My anger drained away, and I felt a surge of sympathy. Mama wasn’t much of a hugger, but I put my arms around her anyway, before she could step away.
“Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry!” I knew she loved music. She was always singing around the house, and playing the organ when she had a spare minute. And she loved singing in the choir. I’d look up at her in the choir loft during the anthems, and she’d be singing her heart out, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright, looking so happy.
I straightened up so I could see her face. “Couldn’t you try giving some music lessons now? I’ll try to help more so you won’t have so much to do.”
“I think we both have enough as it is,” said Mama, “with Mary Ellen not here. And anyway, it would be hard to find pupils in Cedar Crossing. Not like in Lakeville or River Heights.” She sighed again and shook her head. “So we’ll just go on as we are.”
She moved away from me and began putting away the pots and pans she’d been washing. Then she turned back.
“It’s better not to want too much, Anna. Then when you don’t get it, you’re not so disappointed.” She took her apron off and hung it on the nearby hook. “That’s enough talk. We have chores to do before it’s time to start dinner.” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Maybe next year.”
“Yes, Mama.” But I knew that next year wouldn’t be any different. There was rarely any spare cash, and now there was the doctor to pay, and besides, if Mary Ellen didn’t get better soon and come home, Mama would need me more than ever. It was hopeless.
But when Papa came home, he had some good news that cheered us all up. Aunt Grace had telephoned Uncle Tony that she was bringing Mary Ellen back from Philadelphia. They would be on tomorrow’s train to River Heights.
“Grace didn’t even take the time to write us,” Papa said. “Soon as the doctor said Mary Ellen was well enough to come home, she packed them both up and got ready to leave.”
“Well, thank heaven!” Mama said. “I was beginning to worry that she might never be herself again.”
“I’m to fetch her day after tomorrow. Doc Simpson wants her to stay at Grace’s another day or so, so’s he can check on her. But he’s pleased as punch with her progress.”
I felt relief flood through me, and happy anticipation at the thought of having my sister back. I’d gotten kind of used to having the big bed all to myself at night, but it was lonesome, too. It would be good to have Mary Ellen’s warm body next to me again, to whisper and giggle in the dark, and to have someone I could talk to about my hopeless dream of high school, now that Mark was gone. And someone to share the chores that Rose and I had been doing all these weeks.
Papa left early in the morning. I begged to go too, but Mama had a couple bushels of beans to put up, and she needed my help. Before Papa left, Mama handed him the ring, wrapped carefully in the handkerchief. Papa shoved it deep in his pocket where it couldn’t slip out. We heard him talking softly to Dolly as the wagon headed down the lane.
Mama and I worked all morning, canning beans, until there was a row of sparkling glass jars lined up on the table. Mama had already started dinner when we heard the wagon coming up the lane. Rose jumped off the swing, where she’d been playing while baby Grace napped. I ran outside, followed by Mama, and we all stood there waving and smiling.
When the wagon stopped in front of us, Mary Ellen slid down into my arms. We hugged each other, and Mama and Rose wrapped their arms around both of us. I finally drew away and took a good look at my sister. She was thinner, and her face was wan, but her hair was done in one of her stylish French braids, and she was wearing the smart new dress from Philadelphia, a deep rose color with a tiny waist, puffy sleeves, and a long straight skirt.
“It’s good to be home,” she said. Her voice wavered. “I missed you all.” She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears.
“Well, we’re glad you’re back and feeling better,” Mama said briskly. “Now come, dinner’s ready.”
We went into the house, where baby Grace was beginning to whimper in her cradle. Rose picked her up, and nuzzled her nose into the soft fuzz of the baby’s hair.
“Look, Mary Ellen, how Grace has grown,” she said. “And she’s starting to smile already!”
Mary Ellen glanced across the room, then looked away. “Yes, Rose. I see.” She turned and sat down at the table.
She doesn’t even want to look at her own baby, I thought. You’d think she’d at least pretend to be interested. I wonder if she’s really as well as the doctors say?
Mama was frowning as she dished up dinner. I could tell she thought it strange too.
While we were eating, Papa told us that he had left the ring at the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff wasn’t there,” he said. “He had a couple days off and he’s gone down the bay after bluefish.” He took a spoonful of beans. “I made sure the ring was still wrapped up good, and I put it in an envelope that his deputy Tom gave me, with a note to the sheriff. Tom said he’d give it to the sheriff when he comes in day after tomorrow.” He paused. “I told Tom to put the envelope in a safe place, but I didn’t tell him what was in it. Figured that was the sheriff’s business.”
He put down his fork and stood up. “And I hope that’s the last we’ll see of that confounded ring!”
* * * *
Later that night, in bed, Mary Ellen told me about the fancy hotel in Philadelphia where she and Aunt Grace stayed the first night.
“It had a telephone in the lobby,” she said. “Aunt Grace called Uncle Tony at the bank to tell him we’d arrived safely. She let me put the receiver up to my ear and say hello, and I could hear Uncle Tony’s voice as if he was right there—well, a little faint and funny-sounding, but still...And they had water faucets in the bathroom with cold and hot water coming out, and a huge bathtub where you could stretch out and soak for as long as you wanted—and with all these bubbly bath salts to put in the water too.”
She went on to describe the dining room, with a white tablecloth and napkins, and sparkly glasses and heavy silver knives and forks, and absolutely anything they wanted to eat. “I had some fresh strawberries with cream,” she said, “and an omelet—that’s like scrambled eggs but puffier—and ham and hot rolls—oh, it was so elegant and delicious. I wish I could live there!”
“But you stayed at Dr. Grant’s after the first night?” I asked. The hotel sounded very grand. I’d have liked to try it once—the telephone, the tub and bubbles, the fancy food—but it didn’t sound like the kind of place where I’d ever want to live.
Mary Ellen said that Aunt Grace stayed at the hotel, but she was at Dr. Grant’s private asylum. She was scared when Aunt Grace told her she was going to an asylum, but Aunt Grace promised it would be just like any hospital, only nicer, and it was. She’d been scared of Dr. Grant at first too, because she didn’t know what to say to him.
“But then he got me talking about, you know, about what happened and how I felt and all. He said it wasn't my fault that I’d been taken advantage of and I shouldn’t feel guilty or ashamed any more. He gave me some kind of medicine, too, that he said would help. And I guess it did, because he let me come home.”
I moved closer and hugged her. “I missed you, Mary Ellen. It wasn’t much fun here without you, and besides, I had to do all the chores myself, though Rose did try to help.” I was quiet for a minute, but then I couldn’t help myself. “What did the doctor mean, you were taken advantage of?” I burst out. “By whom? Who did this to you, if it wasn’t Russ Irons?”
“Russ! Of course it wasn’t Russ. Don’t be silly!” She hesitated. “I guess I can tell you. Mama and Papa didn’t want me to say anything to anyone, ever. They wanted to put it behind us and forget all about it, which is fine with me. But I’ve never kept any secrets from you, and no matter what Mama and Papa say, I’m not going to start now.”
I hugged her even tighter.
“It was Charles Anders,” she said in a low voice I could hardly hear.
“Charles!” I cried.
“Shhhh!” cautioned Mary Ellen. “You’ll wake Rose.” She glanced over to where our little sister was sleeping peacefully in her cot on the other side of the room.
“But you hardly know him. We’ve just seen him from a distance once in a while when he was home on vacation from that private school.”
“I know, but I met him in River Heights last summer when I was staying at Aunt Grace and Uncle Tony’s. He was one of the boys who danced with me at the yacht club a few times, and I ran into him again at the Fourth of July parade. He bought me an ice cream. But I didn’t see him again for the rest of the summer.”
She was quiet for a minute before she went on. “Then the morning of Jim Pierce’s barn-raising last fall, I met Charles by accident down at the crossroads when Mama sent me for a paper of pins. He said he was home for the weekend, and would I meet him later in the woods behind Jim Pierce’s house. I was flattered that he wanted to see me again, and I said I would.”
“You said you’d go off alone with him like that?” I said.
“I know I shouldn’t have. But he’s so good-looking, and rich, and all, and he said he just wanted to see me without all the other boys around, that we’d sit down by the pond and talk, and have a chance to get to know each other better. I believed him. I was thrilled that he was paying me so much attention. I never thought anything bad would happen!” She let out a sob. I laid my cheek next to hers and felt the wetness of tears.
“He doesn’t know about the baby, does he?” I asked.
“No! Of course not! How would he?” She choked down another sob. “Mama said it was better that he didn’t. She was so mad at me. You should have heard how she scolded. She said I ought to have known better, that she hadn’t brought me up to behave like that. Papa was angry, too, but not so much at me. He was more furious at Charles. His face got all red, and he said he’d like to get his hands on Charles and give him a good thrashing. I’ve never seen him so upset. But then Mama started to cry. She said it wouldn’t do any good, just cause a lot of talk, and so why make more trouble.”
“Anyway, everyone thinks it’s Mama’s baby, so Charles can think that too.” She paused. “The baby will be better off this way. I wouldn’t know how to be a good mother. I don’t even want to look at her because it makes me think about Charles and what he did to me.” She began to cry again and burst out, “I hate him! I hope I never see him again.”
“Oh, Mary Ellen, I’m so sorry. Maybe you’ll feel differently about the baby some day. But what Charles did is not right. No one should get away with that. He should go to jail or something.”
“Yes, but you know that’s not going to happen.” Her voice was muffled as she wiped away her tears on her nightgown.
“Well, someone should do something to punish him.”
Mary Ellen sighed. “I know. But what?”
We were quiet for a moment while I made a silent vow. I’ll make him pay for this. I don’t know how, but I will.
Then I remembered something.
“Remember that day I followed you down the road and you disappeared? Where were you going? Were you looking for Charles?”
“I don’t know what I was doing or why I went down there. I was so mixed up. All I remember is walking up the Anders’s driveway and suddenly realizing where I was and getting scared of seeing Charles, or his mother or father. Thank goodness they weren’t there. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen any of them. Anyway, no one was around and I walked straight down to the path behind the barn and took the shortcut home.” She shivered, even though it was a warm September night. I tucked the sheet closer around her shoulders.
“Anyway, it’s all over now,” I said. “Mama and Papa are probably right. It’s better if you just try to forget it.”
We snuggled closer until I felt Mary Ellen relax and fall asleep.
I lay awake for a while, thinking about this surprising news. Charles Anders? I never would have guessed. And to think it wasn’t Russ after all. At least the baby hadn’t come from a trashy family, which was some comfort.
I fell asleep at last, with the image of an unremorseful Charles, prancing on his horse through my dreams.