Mrs. Clark checked her lipstick in the mirror above the fireplace. “We’ll be going to the Isles of Shoals for August like we always do. I’d thought I might bring you to care for the children, but if you can’t come, I’m sure there will be a girl up there who can work instead, but I won’t be paying you while we’re gone. Miss Mabel works reduced hours to care for the house when we leave. She’s all I need.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’ll need to leave work on July fourteenth to go to Chicago.”
“Chicago?” Mrs. Clark tilted a pillow on the emerald-green damask couch and stood back to check the effect.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be running in the national track championships.”
“You’ll run in a competition? Do your parents know about this?”
“Yes, they come and watch me when I run locally on weekends. We’re all keeping our fingers crossed that I qualify for the Olympic team.”
“My, my. Isn’t that singular?” Mrs. Clark had a way of making a compliment sound far from complimentary. “I had no idea girls did such things. Well, let’s see how things are working out with this situation here. No need to get too far ahead of ourselves.”
Louise was relieved Mrs. Clark hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand, but also worried about the uncertain nature of her response. When she returned home that evening, she told Mama what Mrs. Clark had said. Mama sighed, saying, “I’m afraid that’s as much commitment as you’ll ever get from her, even if you had been working there for years.”
Louise’s days assumed a sameness, and she liked the predictability of her schedule and enjoyed playing with Beatrice while the baby, Ann, slept. She always cleaned their rooms so the white eyelet bedspreads looked smooth; toys lined the shelves with precision as if measured with a ruler; the windows gleamed, free of smudgy fingerprints; and colored pencils and crayons remained in drawers when not being used. She did everything with diligence in hopes of keeping her job secure. When Louise wasn’t working at the Clarks’, she continued to train during the week and race on weekends. During the winter’s indoor season and the spring’s meets, she raced well enough for Coach Quain to become increasingly optimistic about her chances for qualifying for the Olympics.
One evening in late May, she sat at the kitchen table at her home. Emily entered the room with her mending basket and a roll of powder-blue silk tucked under her arm. “What do you have there? Is there space for me to sit down and work with you?”
Louise didn’t answer immediately because she was busy signing her name. When she finished, she looked up at her sister, standing in front of her. “I just finished filling out my application for the National AAU Championships in Chicago. Coach Quain has acquired the funds for the Onteora Track Club to sponsor me to travel to race in them. I’m all done so the table is yours. Now I just need to focus on running.”
“This is your big chance, huh?” Emily brushed some crumbs off the table and reverently placed the blue silk on it, next to her basket. “You’ve been working so hard. I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks, I hope so.” Louise looked at the fabric. “My, that’s pretty. What are you making?”
Delight dawned over Emily’s face, and dimples appeared on her cheeks. “I’ve got my mending work for Mrs. Jackson, but she sold me this fabric at a discount.” She held out a pattern envelope. “I’m going to make a dress for the spring dance at school. There will be a few changes to it, but I think this will be perfect.” Louise looked at the sketch of the dress and fingered the cool, slippery silk. The dress featured a sophisticated yoke above its flared skirt, a wrapped bodice, and shawl sleeves. It would be beautiful. Louise hadn’t ever gone to any dances, but Emily was a different creature. Outgoing and confident, she always had a busy social calendar.
“It will be lovely on you,” Louise said. “When’s the dance?”
“First Friday of June. I’ve got plenty of time to make it. I’m going with Doris and Mavis, but I’ve got my eye on Jackie Newton. I’ll bet you’ve seen him at church.”
“Doesn’t he have those pretty golden eyes?”
“That’s him. Did you ever go to the Spring Fling?”
“No.”
“You’re always so serious.”
“Well, I’m busy.” Running, working for Mrs. Clark, helping around the house—there was no time for dances. Louise edged away from her sister and began drying the dinner plates, placing them back on the shelves, and searching for the cutlery to put away, anything to hide the wistfulness she knew to be on her face. Was she giving up too much? It would be nice to go to a dance with a boy who had kind eyes.
20.
May 1932
Fulton, Missouri
EVER SINCE THE STOCK MARKET CRASH IN 1929, TIMES had gotten tough on the Stephens farm. When Helen was home on weekends, Pa often flung the newspaper down after reading it and stalked off to the backyard to smoke. Ma rarely played her harp anymore. The atmosphere in the house felt tense.
For as long as Helen could remember, the Stephenses had been boarding young women who came to town to interview for teaching positions with the district, and as the economy worsened, these boarding arrangements took on a new significance since every penny added to the household was appreciated. When they had taken in boarders while Helen attended Middle River School, she would sleep on the trundle bed in her room while the teachers slept in her bed. Helen always loved the arrangement. It was with great pride that she would escort the women back to her house to spend the night after a day at school. It gave her a special sense of ownership to host the
