Dovetail: A Novel(11)
The day John was set to arrive happened to be the twins’ birthday. Mae and Maude had turned nine that day and were so excited, Pearl could barely stand to be in the same room with them. Pearl, at seventeen, didn’t think she’d ever acted so silly, the way they skipped around the kitchen, getting in the way of Alice, who was trying to get a cake in the oven. A year and a half older than Pearl, Alice had a sweet disposition but was as dull as an old maid. By necessity, she’d taken over the household after the birth of little Daisy. At first they’d thought their mother just needed time to regain her strength, but when the baby was six months old, their mother had gotten influenza and a croupy cough, and it grew worse from there. Their mother, so beloved, faded before their eyes, finally becoming delirious with fever. For weeks, Alice tended to her, and the doctor visited daily, but nothing seemed to help. Even as much as they saw her struggle and weaken, it was a horrible shock when she died, the younger girls sobbing and wandering listlessly around the house, their father stoic but shattered. No one smiled until one day when they heard Alice singing a lullaby to the baby and little Daisy gurgling in delight.
Alice kept the household together. Ever since then, she was always on the move, going from the garden to the clothesline to the kitchen, never stopping, never resting. Even when all of them were eating, Alice buzzed around the table, filling milk glasses and making sure the serving dishes were being passed around. Her life was over before she’d ever gotten a chance to live it up, poor thing, but it didn’t seem to dampen her spirits. As she bustled around the house, she sang: folk tunes, church music, and little ditties she made up to amuse the younger girls. “My little Ally-bird,” their father called her. Alice’s voice lightened their moods every single day.
After their mother’s death, Alice never had time to talk to Pearl anymore, unless Pearl wanted to follow her around when she was cleaning out the horses’ stalls, beating the rugs, or milking the cow, which Pearl definitely did not. She missed the days when she and Alice had time to sprawl on their beds, leafing through Motion Picture Magazine, copies of which Pearl had gotten from old Mrs. Donohue. Of course, it was mostly Pearl who marveled at the pictures and read bits aloud while Alice looked on, her fingers flying as she worked on her latest knitting project, but even so, they had done it together.
Today Mae and Maude skipped around the table, laughing and singing as Alice poured batter into the buttered pans. They were identical except for their hair. Mae always had a single braid going down her back, while Maude had two pigtails. One time they’d tried switching, but halfway through the morning both had complained that their heads felt crooked, so they had Alice braid their hair once again, putting them to rights. “I wouldn’t do it,” Pearl said. “Put your foot down for once, Alice. It was their idea. Make them keep it that way, at least until the end of the day.”
Alice didn’t listen. Her hands flew through Mae’s hair, weaving the strands so fast, it would be hard to follow how it was done. She shrugged. “I don’t mind. It only takes but a minute.” When she was through tying a ribbon at the end of the braid, she kissed the top of Mae’s head. “Finished. Now you’re right as rain, my little chick.” Next, Maude settled into the chair, and Alice deftly parted her hair and braided both sides so that the twins’ identities were restored in no time at all. A kiss atop the second twin’s head, and then she ushered the two of them out the door to collect eggs.
Alice was the one who assigned the chores. Summertime was particularly busy. Helen and Emma, who were thirteen and eleven, helped with the laundry and split logs for firewood. Mae and Maude scrubbed floors, collected eggs, and helped beat the rugs. All of them worked in the garden, dusted, and cleaned, both in the house and in the barn. On Saturday nights, they took turns hauling water from the pump to the stove to heat it for the family’s weekly bath. Even Daisy, who was three years old, did her part, feeding the chickens, dusting, and following Alice around like a little duckling following its mother.
Pearl pitched in when she could, but she was not the housekeeping type. She hated getting her hands dirty and had no patience for scrubbing pots and running wet clothes through the wringer. Hanging laundry and gardening was out of the question. The hot sun gave her a headache. She was just not put on this earth for domestic duties, something that became apparent when she burned the chicken and the soup pot boiled over when she’d been entrusted with cooking. Sighing, Alice had said she’d do it herself from now on. Pearl had wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist and rested her cheek against her shoulder. “Someday I’ll be rich, and you can come live with me in my mansion where my servants will do all the work. We’ll be ladies of leisure and have rooms full of fur coats and silk ball gowns, and a chest full of diamond jewelry.”
Alice smiled. “Oh, Pearl, you do spin such stories! I am quite sure I would get bored living that way. Besides, if you were that rich, wouldn’t you want to use the money to do some good?”
Pearl considered the idea. “I could send out food baskets at Christmas, I guess. Isn’t that what rich people do?”
Alice shook her head. “You could do so much more than that. So many people struggle, and if you were rich, you could be their saving grace. I’ve always believed that God gives people money to see what they will do with it.”
“I’d do lots with it, and I’d let you help me, Alice,” Pearl declared. “When I’m a famous film actress, I’ll make so much money that I can do whatever I want.”