Farmerettes (29 page)

“It doesn't care if we stay or go, or die—it still rolls on, day or night, summer or winter, peace or war.” She shook her head. “What happens to us seems so small, so unimportant beside this.”

Helene put her arm around Binxie. “It's magnificent and eternal, but it doesn't feel.”

“I wish I didn't,” said Binxie.

“You will again, one day,” said Peggy.

“I'll never get over losing Kathryn. I don't want to.”

“My neighbor's son died of polio when he was twelve,” said Isabel. “She was the only one who made sense to me after Billy drowned. She told me that you never get over losing someone you love. You learn to live with it.”

“Hey! There's a boat down there, heading right for the Falls!” exclaimed Peggy.

A nearby tourist told them it was the
Maid of the Mist
. He pointed to where they could line up to get on. They hurried down the hill to the dock, bought tickets, and soon climbed aboard.

The ride was thrilling. In the bulky raincoats they were given at the beginning of the trip, the girls stood at the front of the boat and watched the seething waters below and the immense rush of water ahead—first the falls on the American side, then the mighty Horseshoe Falls of Canada. They loomed even larger, louder, more impressive down here.

Isabel felt excited and a little nervous as the small ship moved closer to the falls, its waters spraying her face, dripping down her raincoat. Would they stop before they were swept into the turbulence? “Is there a point where it's too late to turn back?” she shouted above the roar.

“No!” Peggy called back. “That's only on top, where the current grabs you.”

As the spray showered their upturned faces, the girls laughed from sheer exhilaration. Even Binxie turned her face toward it. The boat stopped awhile in front of the thunderous cascade. Then too soon, it turned and chugged away.

“That was the most amazing thing I've ever done,” said Isabel.

“Me too. Now let's eat. I'm starving,” said Peggy.

They found a spot on a grassy hill where they had a good view of both waterfalls and the Rainbow Bridge spanning the river to the United States. The tall buildings of the powerful nation to the south fascinated them. Beckoned them.

“I've never been there,” said a wide-eyed Helene.

“We're so close,” added Isabel.

“What a lark that'll be,” said Peggy. “Let's go.”

They wolfed down their peanut butter sandwiches. With growing excitement, they walked across the magnificent bridge, stopping several times to gaze at the river far below.

When they stepped onto the soil of the United States, they looked around expectantly.

“It looks like Canada,” said Helene. “I expected more.”

“Such as?” asked Isabel.

“I don't know.”

“You're thinking of New York City,” said Binxie. “The energy there jumps right into your blood.”

“Let's walk around,” said Peggy.

Isabel was aware they looked like gawking tourists, but this was fun. The rhythm of a Tommy Dorsey number drew them to the entrance of a small establishment.

“I think it's called a speakeasy,” Peggy whispered. A flick of danger quivered deliciously down Isabel's spine.

The girls stepped into a dimly lit, smoky room and a waiter showed them to a table. Tommy Dorsey's music on the jukebox smoothly segued into Count Basie's blues. Isabel and Peggy ordered a Pink Lady each. When Helene shook her head, Binxie asked for two and pushed one in front of her. “We have to toast the discovery of James and Polly and their baby. You're the one who found them; you should lead it.”

Too happy to argue, Helene complied.

“Aren't we sophisticated,” said Isabel, sipping her drink daintily and beaming at the others. They giggled. She'd had gin once before, at Gloria's wedding, so she knew there wasn't much in this glass, but it looked pink and pretty, and it felt so very mature. She looked around the room. At midafternoon, it was almost empty except for a group hunched in a corner and a young couple dancing—he in a navy uniform, she in a flared white dress—oblivious to everyone but each other.

Finally, Binxie tapped her wristwatch. “Time to leave. We shouldn't get caught on the highway in the dark.”

Reluctantly they finished their drinks and headed back toward the bridge.

“Hey, girls!”

Isabel smiled at the familiar red car.

“Hop in. We'll drive you home,” offered Butch. The jolly group sped across the bridge and back to Winona. It was quite dark by the time they approached the entrance to Highberry Farm. As they turned onto the lane, Bob pulled a brown paper bag from under his seat. “It's not even eleven o'clock. Why don't we have a party at your place?”

Peggy

“Sure,” Peggy agreed, thinking how much she liked Butch's smile. “We have a recreation room, great music.”

Binxie rolled her eyes. “And an vigilant camp mother. You'll never step past the front door.”

“She won't hear us if we're quiet,” said Peggy.

Butch parked the car partway down the laneway. Everyone tumbled out and crept across the barnyard. Under a sliver of moon, all was dark and silent. Only a light shining over the dormitory door guided them. Peggy tingled with excitement. The day's adventures were not yet over.

She saw Bob hand Isabel the brown bag. “Hide this until we get in,” he whispered.

Isabel giggled and tucked it into her purse.

Just as they reached the door, it flung open. Cookie filled the entrance, the light from inside making her appear even larger. She glared at them, muscled arms akimbo, a kitchen knife in her hand. “Thanks for driving the ladies home, but this is as far as you get, boys. Goodnight.”

Bob stepped toward Isabel, reaching for her purse.

“I said go!” Cookie's military voice was probably enough, but when she brandished the knife, the boys scooted to their car and raced off.

Frowning, the cook stepped aside for the girls. Each one said, “Goodnight, Cookie,” and hurried past her. They rushed upstairs then collapsed onto their beds, smothering their laughter into their pillows.

Peggy looked around the empty room. “Everyone's still at Romeo's.”

Binxie shrugged, changed into her nightgown. “Goodnight.” She crawled into her bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Helene giggled. “I'm too excited to sleep.”

“It's too early,” said Peggy. “What's in the bag, Isabel?”

Isabel opened her purse, pulled out the paper bag, and took a small bottle of clear liquid from it. “Bob won't be back for this. We can have our own party right here.”

Peggy read the label. “Smirnoff Vodka!”

“I don't know…,” said Helene.

“We have to celebrate,” said Peggy.

“What are we celebrating?” asked Isabel.

“Our trip to Niagara Falls, solving the letter mystery, being a farmerette, friendship.” Peggy felt daring. She opened the bottle, drank a mouthful…and gagged. The bitter liquid burned all the way down. This was no gentle Pink Lady. She almost threw the bottle to Helene.

Helene hesitated, then sat tall. “To life and love,” she toasted. With a flourish, she took a sip—gasped, and passed the bottle to Isabel.

Isabel sipped, looked like she might spit it out, then swallowed. The second time it reached her, she shook her head. The third time it came her way, she declared, “I'm not Itsy anymore,” and drank.

“Binxie, come join us.” Peggy hated to leave her out.

Binxie sat up. She reached for the vodka and downed a mouthful. “Horrid,” she said, handed it to Helene, and rolled back into her covers.

After two more swigs each, the girls sang “Chattanooga Choo Choo” in three-part off-key harmony. Helene stood up, chugging like a train. Peggy and Isabel joined her, dancing in a wobbly track around the dorm.

Helene conducted the train to the outside stairs.

“Shhh.” Peggy stopped the train. “We can't wake up Smokey.” It felt so pleasant outside they continued quietly down the stairs.

“I love this farm,” said Helene. “It's the most beautiful, wonderful place in the world. And I love all of yo-uuh,” she hiccuped. “But most of all, I love Dan.” She stood quietly for a moment. “I want to see him.”

“Tomorrow,” said Peggy.

“Tonight,” insisted Helene. “I don't want this lovely day to be over.”

Peggy wasn't ready to end the day either. “Let's raid the kitchen. There's bread pudding left.”

“I'm not hungry,” said Helene. She smiled wistfully. “You should have seen Dan's face when he played the fiddle for me. Like an angel. And when he found out about his parents…” She wiped her eye.

“He's too far away,” said Isabel nervously. “We can't wander the countryside at night.”

“I need to hold him.” Helene began walking. “Who's coming with me?”

“We'll never find his farm in the dark,” Peggy said.

“I know the way.” Helene crossed the yard. She spotted the McDonnells' truck parked beside the barn, and smiled. “I'll drive us there!”

“You can't drive,” said Peggy with a giggle.

“Of course I can. I've watched Dan do it. Twelve-year-old farm boys drive around here.”

Peggy felt a bit dizzy, but Helene sounded so sure of herself she was willing to try.

Isabel squirmed. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

Helene opened the truck door and studied the dashboard. “Oops. No key.”

“That's a sign,” said Isabel. “Let's go back inside. I'll get the pudding from the pantry. We'll have a feast.”

Helene shook her head. “No. After next week, I may never see Dan again. I must go to him now.” She stood swaying, her brow wrinkled in thought. “We can't drive…” She pointed at the stable. “Horses! We'll ride there.” Dramatically she waved her arm at the moon. “I will ride a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor. I'll go riding, riding, riding up to my dear Dan's door.” She galloped to the stable. Peggy and Isabel trotted after her.

“What's gotten into her?” puffed Isabel as Helene stood looking up at Merlin, then Cairo.

“A bit too much vodka. And, she's been working too hard,” said Peggy.

“They're bigger than I thought,” Helene whispered, backing away from the horse stalls. Slowly she turned and headed for the door. On the wall by the entrance, a familiar set of keys hung on a hook. Helene grabbed them. “The tractor!”

The girls followed her outside. “I've always wanted to ride this,” said Helene as she clambered onto the machine. “Who's coming with me?”

At first Peggy wasn't sure, but then she figured it would be one more adventure before the summer ended. “I am. Isabel?”

Isabel whispered. “Oh, I don't know.”

“Just one little ride. He doesn't live far. Come on,” begged Helene. “For once in my life I want to do something daring.”

“You're right,” said Isabel. “We can do this. Let's go!”

What harm could it do? It'll be fun
, thought Peggy. She stepped up onto the back of the tractor. Giggling and grunting, she tried to climb onto the seat. It was a tight squeeze to fit into a space meant for one, but finally she perched beside Helene.

Isabel tried next, slipped off, and tried again.

“You take the seat,” Peggy offered. “I'll stand back here and lean on you.”

Helene turned the ignition key, and the tractor rattled to life. She revved the motor.

“Here we go,” shouted Peggy, and Isabel cheered, one hand up in a victory sign.

Helene stepped on the gas and off the clutch. The tractor jerked forward. Peggy flew off backward, Isabel sideways. Luckily they fell onto soft ground. The tractor sped away, careening wildly around the barnyard.

“Watch out!” Isabel yelled at Helene as the tractor headed for the woodpile. Helene swerved too late. The sound of metal and wood colliding was sickening. Several logs crashed onto the ground and rolled across the yard.

Lights flashed on in the farmhouse and the dorm.

“Stop!” screeched Isabel, but Helene had panicked. Foot frozen to the gas pedal, she clung rigid to the steering wheel. The tractor raced circles around the yard.

“What's going on out here?” Mr. McDonnell and Smokey each called from the dark. Behind them Jean shouted, “Stop! Use the brakes!”

Helene stepped down harder on the gas pedal. The old machine roared faster than it had ever been asked to do. Smoke poured from under the bashed-in hood.

Helene noticed some of the loose logs on the ground in front of her. She yanked the steering wheel sharply right, and the tractor raced straight at the pond. Helene wailed. With a giant splash, the tractor charged into the water, where it finally stopped.

Helene sat glued to the seat, in muddy water up to her thighs, yelling, “The frogs! The frogs!” A dozen of them surrounded her, croaking displeasure at the intrusion.

Everyone ran to the edge of the pond. Jean and Smokey waded into the water and pulled Helene off the tractor and back through the muck to shore.

“I'm sorry. So sorry,” Helene sobbed. She stood on the shore, dripping, shivering, shaking, while Smokey checked her for cuts or broken bones.

Peggy winced at the anger and disappointment on Jean's face. The tractor, so recently repaired, would be out of commission again.

“Get her inside. All of you, inside,” Mr. McDonnell ordered. “There's nothing we can do now. We'll deal with this in the morning.”

Peggy turned to Jean to apologize, but Jean glared stone-faced, turned, and followed her father back to the house. The three farmerettes slowly followed Smokey to the dorm. How had this wonderful day ended in such disaster?

X

She trod up the stairs behind the other girls, tired and discouraged. Romeo's was exhausting. She liked the music and sitting with her friends to laugh and talk. But they chatted mostly about boys—how spiffy they were, who they'd like to kiss.