“You're
so dumb,” the voice taunted. “You're so dumb, you don't even know
how to climb a tree.”
Samantha
examined her scraped knee and scowled. The fall from the oak branch
hadn't hurt her too much but Grandmary would not be pleased to see
her ripped stocking. The most embarrassing part of falling out of the
tree was having such a display witnessed by one's least favorite
neighbor. She glared at the bushes.
“Go
away, Eddie.”
But
the voice did not go away; it only laughed. “You're so dumb you
probably think three times four is twelve.”
She
gave an unladylike huff. For once, his wild guesses at math were
correct. He may be two grades above her in school, but no one could
tell by his obviously stupid remarks. “Three times four is
twelve.”
“Samantha,
you're so dumb...”
She
turned away. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? “Eddie, go
away!”
The
voice cackled as a sticky face appeared from the bushes. “Samantha's
dumb! Samantha's dumb!” It cried as it came closer, filling her
vision until she could see nothing else.
“Go
away!”
“Dumb
Samantha!”
“Stop
it, Eddie!”
“Samantha!
Wake up!”
With
a gasp, Samantha Parkington sat straight up in bed. Her hand flew to
her knee, still covered by the blankets. Even with the cloth under
her fingers, she knew instantly that there was no scrape discoloring
her skin. The voice was gone, the bushes all but a distant memory. She was no longer that little nine-year-old girl with ripped stockings. No, she was far from that.
She
felt someone gently touch her forehead. “Are you feeling ill,
Samantha?”
“I'm
fine.” Samantha pushed Nellie's anxious hand away. “It was only a
dream.”
Her
adopted sister regarded her critically. “More of a nightmare, if
you ask me. You cried out more than once and woke me up.”
Samantha
fell back onto her pillows and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“I'm sorry.”
But
Nellie wasn't finished. She leaned over Samantha, placing one hand on
the iron-wrought headboard to steady herself. “You were yelling at
Eddie.”
“Next-door
nuisance,” Samantha mumbled, rolling over to avoid Nellie's eyes.
Her
sister sighed. “Why are you letting that bother you still? I
thought you left those nightmares behind you. That was almost ten
years ago!”
“Eight years,” Samantha corrected. “And I don't know! Can I help it that
the dream came back?”
Nellie
grabbed her shoulder and forced her back over. “Samantha, that's
all past now. Eddie Ryland isn't here, and we most likely never see
him again. Didn't his mother send him off to some obscure college
somewhere? Don't let him bother you anymore. Besides,” she
continued, “you're not dumb. You're the smartest girl I know.”
She gave Samantha a friendly poke in the shoulder. “Who graduated
from the academy with the highest honors? Who received the most
status for academic achievements? Who astonished the teachers beyond
recall with excellence and deportment?”
Samantha
couldn't keep her grin back. “Me.”
“Yes,
you! Not Eddie.” Nellie's eyes flashed excitedly. “Now just tell
that to your nightmares.” She left the bed and walked across the
room. “Are you hungry?”
“Not
very. What time is it?” Samantha glanced at the clock resting on
her nightstand. The elegant hands were small but easy enough to read
– six thirty. Grandmary wouldn't be up yet, although the Admiral
would be just returning to the hotel after his morning walk. If they
hurried, they could meet him when he returned to the suite. He was
fond of two smiling faces greeting him at the door, as she and Nellie
both knew.
She
threw the blankets off and leaped out of bed as Nellie pulled their
dresses from the wardrobe.
“Can
you believe that it's already our last day in Paris? I never imagined
our tour to go this quickly!” She exclaimed, studying the dresses
with an expert eye. “Just think – next week we'll be on the RMS
Titanic, sailing home, and then we'll be in New York City in time
for your eighteenth birthday.” She frowned and cast a quick look at
Samantha. “Do you want the white one or the pink one?”
“Pink,”
Samantha said without even glancing at the dresses. The white was
pretty enough, but the collar on the pink one proved most flattering
with her locket she never took off. For a moment, she let her fingers
rest on the tiny, gold heart. Inside were two faded pictures, though
she hardly had to look at them anymore to remember what they looked
like and to recall the beloved faces smiling back at her.
I
miss you, Mother and Father, her heart whispered as a brief tear
clung to her eye. I wish I could have known you longer. I wish we
could have been a family.
“Samantha?”
Nellie was holding the pink dress out to her, watching her with a
curious expression. Her face softened as she caught sight of her
sister's hand clutching the locket. She nodded, understanding. “I
know, I miss mine, too.”
Samantha
accepted the dress blindly. “I still don't understand why they had
to die. Why I was never really given a chance to know them.”
“Would
you wish them back?”
“Why
wouldn't I?”
Nellie
looked away. “But what about everything you have now? Would you
change any of that?”
Samantha's
heart sunk. She knew to what Nellie was referring. “No, I wouldn't
change it. I mean, it's not every day that my best friend would
become my sister. And everything we have in New York – Bridget,
Jenny, little William, Uncle Gard, Aunt Cornelia, and all the others
– I wouldn't give them up for anything. But... but don't you
sometimes find yourself yearning for your real parents next to you? A
mother to sympathize with you, a father to seek advice from?”
“Of
course I do,” Nellie answered, rubbing her hands against the dress
she'd chosen, a blue silk with dark gray trimming. “But we can't
change the past, Sam. I think these things were all meant to happen
for a reason. We can't control the universe and how it works, even
though we may try to. I think there are things bigger than us, some
things we can't even comprehend.”
Samantha
snorted, eagerly dashing away all former signs of sorrow. “When you
can find something bigger at work than the matchmaking Mrs.
Woodbourne, let me know. I seriously doubt anything could be bigger
than her.”
Nellie
lost her somber air to an instant fit of giggles. “It's not her
fault that she loves cake.”
“And
cookies, and pies, and breads, and...” Samantha rolled her eyes and
rounded a list out of the rotund lady's favorite foods. Nellie's
giggles didn't cease, so neither did her sister's tongue. But the
time Samantha had gotten around to breaded pork and beef tenderloin,
Nellie had to sit down lest her laughter cause her to fall over.
“Oh,
Samantha, stop!” She cried, holding her side. “Please!”
With
a grin, Samantha added one last food item: “And pickled livers.”
The
oddity had the expected result. Nellie's jollity vanished into a
disgusted expression. “Jeepers, Sam! That's horrid!”
Now
it was Samantha's turn to laugh. “Come on; we'd better hurry. The
Admiral will think we've abandoned him.”
God bless!
