The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I tell Grandmary I’d rather skip the doctor, I’m feeling better. She hesitates, then agrees I can rest in the parlor instead, and relief washes over me as I follow her and Samantha down the hall.

The parlor is so elegant I’m almost afraid to step in with my dirty tennis shoes and capris. Red velvet chairs line the walls and red curtains frame windows looking onto the front porch, the fabric so rich I hesitate to even brush against it. Grandmary pats a small sofa and tells me to lie down, though relaxing proves hard with Samantha staring at me, studying my face like she’s never seen anything quite like it. Suddenly remembering her dinner party, Grandmary decides to go with Hawkins next door to reschedule with the Rylands herself, rather than through Mrs. Hawkins, and leaves Samantha in charge of watching me.

Samantha smiles, and after a quiet moment asks if I’d like to see a magic lantern show. I nod, and she draws the curtains, dimming the room, then fusses with a metal box with two tubes, projecting a soft glowing image onto the wall: an Eskimo on a sled. More images of far-off places follow, one after another, and it strikes me this “magic” lantern isn’t all that magical. What would she make of TVs, computers, and cell phones?

Samantha would love to visit all these places, she says, though she’s never traveled farther than Piney Point, the mountain summer home they’re leaving for in a couple of days. When an image of the Grand Canyon appears, I blurt out that I’ve been there, and her jaw drops in disbelief. Really? Jeepers, I wear bloomers, ride bicycles, and travel to faraway places, none of which she’s done. When I ask about her own bicycle, remembering she never learned to ride, she shrugs: there’s one in the shed, Uncle Gard’s, but Grandmary thinks bicycles are too dangerous.

We flip through a few more pictures before Grandmary returns, and I insist I feel much better. She raises a skeptical eyebrow, studying me a beat too long. I’ll need to try harder to avoid that doctor’s visit. Sitting up, I suddenly recall where I was actually headed: Mother put me on a train to Plattsburgh to stay with family for the summer, before I hit my head. Samantha perks up, Plattsburgh sounds familiar, and Grandmary confirms it isn’t far from Piney Point, right along their train route.

Samantha jumps up with an idea: what if I stayed with them at Piney Point for a day or two first, swimming, hiking, picking wildflowers, before going on to Plattsburgh? It sounds like fun, and it means more time getting to know her. She begs Grandmary, clasping her hands together and insisting she’s never had a friend her age there before, and I can see the answer softening on Grandmary’s face even before she speaks it, though she insists I telephone my family for permission first.

I know I won’t reach either of my parents, but I have to try. Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Hawkins shows me how to crank the wooden phone box handle before hurrying off to check on the table setting. The operator finds no listing for Dad in Plattsburgh, and the line disconnects. Samantha tells me to try again, and when the phone rings back, she reminds me we share a party line with the neighbors, but that call is ours. I confirm with the operator: still nothing under Dad’s name. Before I hang up, I catch Samantha’s face, hands over her mouth, breath held, eyes full of hope, waiting for the answer that will decide everything. How can I let her down?

So I don’t. Once the operator’s gone, I pretend to keep talking, to a relative who’s happily granting permission for a couple of days at Piney Point. Samantha jumps up and down at the news, hugs me tight the moment I hang up, and races for the back porch. Following her out, I spot Eddie’s face poking through the lilac hedge, waving me over.

Before he can speak, Samantha calls out that we’re busy packing for Piney Point. Grandmary reminds her to mind her manners, but Samantha shoots me a look that says to ignore him, he’s a pain. Then he leans in and whispers that he heard me on the telephone, that I’m a liar. Right, the party line, meaning the neighbors can listen in on each other’s calls. Did he hear my whole conversation with the operator? He looks entirely too pleased with himself, grinning wide and whispering that he’s going to tell. I need to reach Samantha first, or find another way to shut him down, and he looks ready to bolt across the lawn and spill everything right now.