Ship of Dolls (15 page)

As Lexie decided just where to put a silver ball with tiny beads on wires around it, Grandma’s smile made her feel as warm as drinking a hot cup of cocoa. With a marshmallow on top.

When she finished, they all agreed the tree was beautiful. But to Lexie it wasn’t the same as sharing a Christmas tree with Mama. She went up to her room as soon as she could without hurting Grandma and Grandpa’s feelings.

Upstairs, she crawled out on the big branch of the cherry tree and twisted until she had pulled off a branch as long as her arm. She brought it inside and stood it in a milk bottle filled with a collection of beach agates. Grandpa had given her the agates, saying they once belonged to Papa. It pleased Lexie to see Papa’s agates holding up her makeshift tree, as if he were there, helping her.

She colored a star on a piece of paper with a yellow crayon, then colored it again with orange to make it a darker gold, cut it out, and glued it to the top of the branch. While she was gluing strips of bright paper into loops for a chain, Jack knocked on the window. “What are you doing?”

Lexie opened the window so he could step inside. “I’m making a Christmas tree for my room.”

“That’s a Christmas tree?” He looked at the bare twig with a gold star glued to the top. “Most have green needles.”

“You have to pretend the green.” Lexie carried her chain to the tree and carefully draped it around the branches. “What’s the matter, Jack? Don’t you know how to pretend?”

“Sure, I do.” His eyes brightened. “I’ll be right back.”

He scrambled through the window while Lexie started another paper chain. In minutes, he was back with a jar full of buttons. “I borrowed these from Ma. If you have some yarn, we can string them for the tree.”

“Perfect.” Lexie rummaged through a bag of odds and ends Mam’selle had given her. Lace . . . rickrack . . . yarn!

Jack said, “They’ll all slide together. Maybe there’s not enough.”

“We’ll tie knots between each button.”

“I’m pretty good at tying knots.” He cut a length of yarn, sank onto the rug beside her, and poured out the buttons.

As they worked, Lexie told him about Christmas with Mama. It felt good to talk about her with Jack. He knew how to listen without finding fault.

“Last year was our first Christmas without Papa. We couldn’t find the ornaments. We must have left them behind when we moved to a smaller place.”

“That’s tough,” Jack said.

“Mama said even though we missed him so much sometimes it hurt to breathe, we weren’t going to be Pitiful Pearls. Papa wouldn’t want that. He’d want us to get on with our lives and that was what we were going to do.”

“Without a Christmas tree?”

Lexie felt memories flooding in. “We had a tree. Mama draped her long ropes of pearls and rhinestones on the branches. She clipped sparkly ear bobs and brooches to the ends.”

Jack whistled softly. “I’d like to have seen that.”

“We laughed and sang carols and had a swell time. And it was the prettiest Christmas tree ever!” Lexie looked doubtfully at the branch in the milk bottle. “It was prettier than this one.”

“Now who’s forgetting to pretend?” Jack looked at the tree. “I’ve seen worse.”

“So have I.” A giggle caught Lexie by surprise. “This tree is almost as perfect as the one downstairs in the parlor.”

Rain pounded the windows on Christmas morning, but right after church, Grandpa started logs blazing in the big fireplace in the parlor. They had waited to exchange gifts until after church services and a big noon meal. When Lexie felt ready to burst with impatience, Grandma said at last that it was time to open the presents.

The parlor was warm by then. Spicy gingerbread and peppermint smells drifted from a little cookie house with a candy roof Mam’selle had sent to Lexie. That and cinnamon from cider simmering on the iron range in the kitchen made the entire house smell like a big Christmas cookie.

Lexie sat on the floor pretending she was in a fairy forest that smelled of cookies and green trees. Her name on a tag in Grandma’s writing invited her to open a box wrapped in red paper. She glanced at Grandma for permission, then untied a candy cane from the ribbon on top, thanking Grandpa with a grin. The sparkle in his eyes told her that extra gift was from him. She carefully unwrapped the box, knowing that Grandma would save the paper.

Inside, she found a dictionary almost too heavy to use. “That will help with your schoolwork,” Grandma said.

Lexie thanked them both, even though she wouldn’t be coming back here for school and the dictionary was too heavy to take with her. Trying to ignore an ache in her heart at the thought of leaving, she gave them her gift, a silhouette profile of herself she had made in class.

They took turns holding the silhouette, turning it one way and another, admiring it. Grandpa said he would find a nice frame, and Grandma said there was a perfect spot for Lexie’s picture on top of the piano.

Their praise made Lexie smile and ache inside at the same time. It was easier to be with Grandma and Grandpa than it used to be, but she was going to Mama. Nothing could make her change her mind about not coming back.

She had saved a small box from Mama for last. Big red bows all but hid the shiny gold paper. When she had them off and the box open, she lifted out a glittery headband.

She knew that headband. Last Christmas, it had circled the top of the tree, right below Mama’s pretty star-​shaped brooch. Lexie pressed the band to her cheek. It smelled of Mama’s familiar spicy perfume and brought her close. Except for Mama herself, she couldn’t have wished for a better gift.

“Mercy, child,” Grandma exclaimed. “Where will you ever wear that?”

Lexie pressed Mama’s headband closer. “I could wear it to school.” Before Grandma could say,
What a silly idea
, she added quickly, “I guess I’d look funny. People — the others in school — they wouldn’t understand.”

Grandma surprised her by looking thoughtful. “It’s a pretty thing, all glittery like a star.” She glanced at Grandpa, then back. “What would you say to slipping it over the tree, right below the Christmas star?”

Lexie jumped up to wrap both arms around her grandma, surprising them both. “I’d like that a lot. It will be like Mama’s here sharing Christmas with us!”

Grandpa pushed himself up from his big chair. “Can a grandpa get in on that hug?”

Lexie rushed to hug him, too. She couldn’t see either one of them very well because her eyes were suddenly blurry.

The day of the trip to San Francisco arrived very slowly, but came at last. On an unusually sunny day for early January, Grandpa drove Lexie and Grandma to the dock. When he hugged her, Lexie held on tightly, reluctant to say good-​bye. She wasn’t sure when she would see him again.

Grandpa chuckled. “You have a good trip, now. Mrs. Harmon is all set up to feed me along with her boarders, so don’t worry one bit.”

“I wish you were coming with us,” Lexie said softly.

Grandpa tousled her hair. “You just make sure to take a good long look at everything you see. I want to hear all about it when you get home.”

Home . . .
The word stabbed through Lexie. It was hard to leave. But in her heart, home would always be with Mama.

Mrs. Wilkins’s sharp voice cut through the bright morning. “Why, look, Louise. Your little friend has come down to wish you safe journey. Show your upbringing and thank her.”

Louise stuck her tongue out at Lexie and hurried toward people boarding the ship.

“Slow down, Louise!” her mother exclaimed. “Wilkins ladies do not run in public!”

Lexie murmured to Grandma, “She was just walking fast.”

Mrs. Wilkins’s mouth set tighter as she turned toward Grandma. “I’m sure she appreciates your coming to see her off. It’s simply that she finds it difficult to forgive someone who has publicly embarrassed her.”

Grandma’s hand tightened on Lexie’s, but her smile could have sugared oatmeal. “Lovely weather to begin a sea journey, isn’t it? Come, Electra, let’s find our cabin.”

She walked past Mrs. Wilkins, who was surprised into silence for once. Lexie couldn’t resist grinning back at her as she followed Grandma up the ramp and onto the ship.

Even while tied to the dock, the ship shifted with the river. Swells rolled beneath and slapped against the hull. Lexie bounced on her toes, enjoying the feel of the ship as they were directed to their cabin along with several other passengers.

Again, Mrs. Wilkins raised her voice. “Louise! A Wilkins lady does not gawk.”

Grandma rolled her eyes. “Apparently, a Wilkins lady does screech at her daughter in public.”

Giggling, Lexie followed Grandma into their cabin. As far as she was concerned, Louise deserved all the screeching she got. Inside the snug cabin, it was hard to stand still and impossible to sit quietly. The trip would take a long time, but at last she was on her way!

As soon as Grandma gave permission, Lexie raced on deck with her soft doll, Annie. She leaned against the rail, fascinated by the activity. On the ship and dock, men called orders. Planks creaked. Cables clanked against a noisy winch while they were raised into their holds.

Overhead, seagulls screeched and swooped. Lexie laughed as one snatched a fallen crumb from a visitor’s breakfast roll, passing so close to the man’s feet that he shouted and jumped backward.

She knew that Emily Grace and the other dolls had been packed into their boxes and then into bigger crates and stored in the hold. “I wish Emily Grace could watch all this with us,” Lexie told Annie as the ship’s engine rumble grew louder. Slowly, a tugboat nudged the ship into the Willamette River, headed toward the far wider Columbia. “Grandpa says it can be rough crossing the bar into the ocean,” she warned Annie. “When we get there, be sure to hold on tight.”

She ran along the deck toward the bow, eager for the first sight of the sea, even though she knew the ship had to travel up the Willamette while the pilot tug guided it beneath bridges. Then they would travel for hours along the Columbia before reaching the Pacific Ocean.

Willing the ship to move faster and holding Annie with one hand and the rail with the other, she made her way forward. She stopped at the sound of a girl’s voice.

“You’re so pretty,” the girl was saying. “Your satin dress is the same blue color as your eyes.”

That was Louise. Who was she talking to? Lexie moved silently around a corner of the wheelhouse. Her breath caught in her throat. Louise sat on the deck in front of the structure. She held Emily Grace in her lap.

L
exie’s hand tightened on Annie. She backed around the wheelhouse in disbelief. Louise had Emily Grace on deck. How was that possible? All the dolls were supposed to be in their boxes in the ship’s hold.

The answer rocked her. Louise had special privileges. Again. And it wasn’t fair. Lexie wanted to rush around the corner and snatch the doll away.

Louise’s voice came clearly on a twist of the wind. “You’re my only friend, Emily Grace. You don’t care if I can buy gumdrops to share or if my papa might have a job for your papa.”

Lexie didn’t feel sorry for Louise, the cheat. If she didn’t have friends, it was her own fault. How had she gotten the doll from the hold?

As if she had asked the question aloud, Louise answered, still talking to the doll. “I’m so glad I thought to ask for you after the program. Did you hear me, Emily Grace? I used my sad voice and said I needed to carry you to San Francisco. I said that would make up for the way Lexie Lewis and Jack Harmon spoiled my special day.”

Fresh outrage shot through Lexie. She hadn’t spoiled Louise’s day. Louise had spoiled a day that should have belonged to her! No one would listen to the truth. Not Mr. Wilkins or Mrs. Phipps. Not even Miss Tompkins.

Louise was still talking, and her voice ground through Lexie. “Papa said that would be fair since I won, but I’m not supposed to take you from the cabin, Emily Grace. So don’t tell anybody.”

I hate her
, Lexie thought furiously.
I should tell her mother she has the doll on deck.

But then she heard her own mother’s voice in her memory. Mama was saying, “We don’t carry tales. That’s something a crummy person would do, and you, kiddo, are not a crummy person.”

Mama didn’t like crummy people. Lexie thought those people were like dumb Doras or bozos, people who didn’t care about others. Whatever they were, she was glad Mama didn’t think she was one.

She decided not to rush around the corner and fight with Louise. That was another thing a crummy person would do. She was on her way to Mama, after all. Louise didn’t matter when Mama would be waiting on the dock in San Francisco.

Mama would probably have rhinestones sparkling on her ears. Maybe she would wear the pretty red top that reached to her hips and the skirt with pleats that swung when she walked. She would be glowing with excitement, so glad to see her daughter again that she would run to the gangway to grab Lexie into a wildly welcoming hug.

Lexie almost ran to the rail to look for the dock and Mama, but the ship was still on the Columbia River though the basalt cliffs of the eastern end were far behind. The forested banks spread wide, with farms here and there. A deer drank briefly from the river’s edge before darting back into the trees.