Ship of Dolls (6 page)

Guilt nudged her, as if Jack had asked through the window if she should cut up the dress.

He wasn’t there, but she answered anyway. “It’s mine. If I want to give it to Emily Grace, I can.”

“Lexie!” Grandma called again.

Lexie pulled on the cotton dress and ran down the stairs for the broom.

Supper was over, the dishes washed and put away, and tea and cookies set out before she could return to Emily Grace. By then, Grandma’s friends were arriving at the door, some by motorcar and others on foot.

Lexie sat on her bed with Emily Grace on her lap and Annie propped against the pillow. “Listen, do you hear that big motor? That’s Louise’s mama in their fancy Packard. I guess Mr. Ford’s cars aren’t good enough for her.”

She felt a little guilty for saying something unpleasant, but she was only repeating what she had heard Grandma say to Grandpa when he admired the shiny black Packard.

Emily Grace tilted backward. “Mama.”

Lexie giggled. “That’s right. Her mama likes to control everybody; that’s what Grandma says. I suppose that’s why Louise is so bossy.”

She looked closely at Emily Grace. The doll couldn’t say anything except “Mama,” but she said much more with her eyes. Lexie hugged her and placed her on the bed.

“I hope you will like Japan. Miss Tompkins says that country is very different from ours. They sleep on mats on the floor and have paper screens for walls. I wonder how they keep secrets.”

She shook her head, thinking she wouldn’t like that, even if she didn’t have secrets. “Today, we wrote poems called haiku,” she told the doll. “They have just seventeen syllables and are often about nature and seasons. I wrote one for you, Emily Grace. It goes like this.”

She repeated carefully for the doll:

Gently, she touched Emily Grace’s cheek. “Miss Tompkins says a haiku should make you feel something. My haiku makes me sad.”

She shook her head, pushing away the sadness. “Let’s get started on your new dress. First, we need to draw a pattern.”

She slipped off the doll’s cape and turned her over to unsnap the tiny closures behind her neck. Gently, she pulled the blue satin dress down the doll’s body, easing her arms from the sleeves.

“What a pretty pink petticoat the ladies made for you. The girls in Japan will like your beautiful clothes. And you’re going to have an extra dress!”

She studied the snap closure. “I saw some of those in the sewing machine drawer. I’ll sew them in just like these.”

She turned the satin dress inside out to see the seams. The ladies had used a sewing machine to make those tight stitches, but even if she figured out how to use Grandma’s, that big machine was noisy.

Besides, people had used plain needles and thread to sew long before there were fancy machines. It would just take a bit longer.

Humming a song she remembered Mama singing, Lexie shoved the braided rug to one side. Then she slipped off her flower-​sprigged cotton dress and spread the skirt on the wood floor. In her underwear, she placed Emily Grace on the fabric. She dipped her pen in her inkwell and with careful strokes, began to outline the doll on the cloth.

T
he ladies’ laughter and talk came up the stairs to Lexie. Sometimes, Mrs. Wilkins’s voice rose above the others, crisp and sharp. Grandma’s voice sounded warmer. “I’m glad we don’t live with Mrs. Wilkins,” Lexie told Emily Grace and Annie while she cut two doll-​size pieces from the skirt of her cotton dress.

Annie looked a little sad, lying halfway off the pillow. Lexie pulled her straight. “When I get done, Annie, I’ll make a new dress for you, too. Emily Grace needs hers first, to take to Japan.”

She worked with the tip of her tongue between her teeth, sewing the side seams while the ladies’ voices rose and fell from downstairs. It took much longer than she’d expected, but at last the seams were done.

When she held the dress up, it didn’t look exactly the way she had imagined it. Maybe it would look better when it was on Emily Grace.

She placed the dress against the doll, but sucked in her breath. The carefully stitched seams were on the outside, where the flowers were prettiest. If she turned the material to put the seams inside, the dress would look faded. If she put it on the doll with the pretty side out, those rough seams would show.

“I did it wrong!” Lexie flung the dress to the floor. Then she took a deep breath to catch hold of her temper. She’d seen both Grandma and Mama do that, and even Miss Tompkins. “I made a mistake,” she told the doll. “I’ll just pull out the stitches and start over.”

It was a slow process. She hated having to do the same thing twice, but she forced herself to keep at it. Later, she heard the ladies saying good-​bye, then the sound of their cars starting up and driving away.

Mrs. Wilkins’s Packard backfired like a firecracker going off. Then the big car roared into the night. Lexie yawned. She was tired, but the two sides of the dress were finished at last, with the seams where they belonged.

Grandma spoke from the doorway, sounding shocked. “Child, what have you done to your dress?”

Guilt churned through Lexie. “I gave it to Emily Grace. She needs a new dress.”

“So you cut up one of your own?” Grandma’s mouth set in a tight line. Lexie thought she must have looked the same way herself after finding the seams on the wrong side. She hoped Grandma would catch hold of her temper, the way she had then.

Grandma crossed the room and held up the doll dress. “This will never fit that doll.”

Lexie’s breath came out in a rush. “It won’t?”

“No, honey, it won’t.”

Honey?
Grandma only called her honey when she was pleased with her. That didn’t happen very often. It didn’t feel right now, not with her dress on the floor with two holes cut in the skirt.

Grandma placed the dress on top of Emily Grace and pulled the sides down. “Do you see? The sides won’t meet, front and back. She’s not a flat paper doll. You should have used enough fabric to reach all the way around.”

Tears crowded up inside Lexie. She thought of the work she had done, sewing the seams and then taking them out and sewing them again. She swallowed the tears and made her voice strong. “I’ll cut pieces to sew into each side. That will make it bigger.”

In her mind, she saw the others in the class, especially Louise Wilkins, pointing to the extra pieces and snickering.

Grandma tsked her tongue. “I think we can do better than that.” She looked at Lexie. “That is, if your teacher doesn’t mind my helping.”

“Oh, no,” Lexie said quickly. “She won’t mind. She said I could ask you to help.” She thought fast, not understanding Grandma’s offer but needing to make sure of it. “I’d be so happy if you helped me. Mama doesn’t sew. So I don’t know how to do it right.”

The last of Grandma’s doubts disappeared from her face. The set of her mouth said that with all Mama’s singing and sleeping late, it was little wonder she didn’t find time for sewing. Out loud, she said, “Well, it’s high time you learn. You should have asked me right away and not cut up your own good dress.”

“I tried,” Lexie reminded her, “but you were busy.”

“I was.” Grandma sat on the bed beside her. “And you didn’t feel you could wait. We’ll sort this out. But I hope the next time you win a special honor from school, I won’t have to hear the news from Eleanor Wilkins.”

Lexie looked at the dress to keep her shock from her face. Honor? This wasn’t an honor. How could Grandma think so?

Louise!
Louise must have told her mother — complained, probably — that Lexie got special favors from the teacher. Now Grandma would have to hear the truth, and it would be even worse because she expected to hear something good.

Lexie swallowed hard, searching for words that would ease the way to the truth. The truth would be even harder now. How would Grandma feel to hear that the honor was really a punishment?

“So this is the doll that is going to Japan.” Grandma picked up Emily Grace and leaned her backward. The doll’s eyes closed. “Mama.”

Grandma chuckled. “Fancy, isn’t she? I expect your Annie there is feeling left out.”

“I told her I’d make her a dress, too.” That would mean cutting more holes in her own dress. And that first one hadn’t worked out at all.

An idea rushed into her mind. “Annie’s smaller. Maybe this dress will fit her. And not be wasted.” She looked hopefully at Grandma.

“Why don’t we begin fresh?” Grandma patted Lexie’s shoulder. “I have some yellow sprigged chintz set aside for kitchen curtains. I believe there’s enough there to make dresses for two dolls.”

Lexie hardly dared trust the happiness that welled up through her. “They’ll be like sisters in the same dress, one here and one in Japan.”

Grandma smiled and placed Emily Grace in Lexie’s lap. “You must have done special work to earn the honor of dressing the doll.” She sat on the bed beside Lexie. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

T
he truth was about to ruin everything. Lexie wanted to run out of the house and keep running.

Grandma waited for an answer.

Carefully, Lexie said, “Miss Tompkins asked me to make a dress for Emily Grace.”

“I understand that,” Grandma said. “I’m interested in hearing why you were chosen for the honor.”

There was that word again.
Honor.
Lexie’s face got hot. What she had done felt even worse. Was there any way to tell Grandma about sneaking into the teacher’s room that wouldn’t make her mad?

“I could not believe the nerve of Eleanor Wilkins,” Grandma went on. “She actually said her daughter must have misunderstood. It was not logical, she said — logical, mind you — that you should receive an honor before Louise!”

Lexie looked at the pride shining in Grandma’s face. Her heart seemed to shrink inside her. Shrink and turn black. How could she possibly tell Grandma what had happened?

“Was it about Japan?” Grandma asked. “I suppose you are studying that country.”

“Yes,” Lexie said slowly. “Yes, we’re learning all about Japan.”

Grandma waited to hear more. Lexie looked at Emily Grace. The doll’s friendly painted smile seemed to tell her to start with something Grandma would like to hear. The poem! Feeling grateful to Emily Grace, she said, “Today we learned how to write Japanese poems.”

“That’s nice.” Grandma sounded more puzzled than pleased. “I expected to hear you made a report on the country. But poetry can be . . . interesting.”

Lexie didn’t think Grandma was much interested in poetry. She would rather keep busy in the kitchen than read, but she did have the book group that had met tonight. Maybe this would be something new to the ladies, something they would consider for next time.

“You could tell your book ladies about Japanese poems,” she said, hoping for a way to avoid the trouble she felt coming. “They’re called haiku. The poems.”

“Hai-​ku? I don’t believe I’ve heard the word before.” Grandma pursed her lips, then seemed to gather a smile. “You wrote the best one? That’s quite an honor.”

That word again. Lexie felt as if good and bad thoughts were pulling her in two directions. But she
had
written the haiku the teacher liked best. So it wasn’t a lie to let Grandma be happy about that. “I wrote how I felt about Emily Grace.”

“I would like to hear your poem. Do you have a copy?”

“I know it by heart. It’s just seventeen syllables. That’s what haiku poems are. Seventeen syllables in three lines. They’re supposed to be about nature and feelings.”

“Why don’t you recite your poem for me?” Grandma sat back to listen.

Lexie closed her eyes for a moment, bringing the words to mind, then put Emily Grace on the bed and stood up. “It goes like this:

The poem made Lexie sad again. She glanced at Emily Grace. Already, the doll felt as if it belonged to her. It would be hard to send her away to Japan.

“I see you have the best part of your mother,” Grandma said. “What I know of her, she likes songs and singing.”