The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I grab the largest spoon and take a slow, noisy, hot slurp of soup, catching Samantha’s horrified expression out of the corner of my eye. Everyone else sits perfectly still, hands folded neatly in their laps, staring straight ahead. What are they waiting for?

Grandmary finally lifts her own spoon, and everyone follows suit. My cheeks flush hot as Samantha glances nervously between us. I’ve clearly broken some rule, dinner in 1904 apparently comes with a lot of them, nothing like the easy, quiet dinners I have with Mom.

Eddie whispers under his breath that I’m a ninny with no manners, and Mrs. Ryland scolds him for talking with his mouth full and minding other people’s business. Then she turns to me, asking what Dad does in the city. He doesn’t live there, I explain, setting down my spoon carefully beside my bowl, but Mom works there as a social worker. Samantha’s eyes widen: Mom works? Most moms do, I think, though Mrs. Ryland’s raised eyebrow and pursed lips suggest otherwise here.

Pressed for details I’m embarrassed not to fully know, I take a slow sip of water and explain that Mom helps homeless families and children whose parents can’t care for them. Samantha says it sounds like she helps people who really need it, and mentions the woman training to be a doctor we met earlier today, lucky to do such important work. She tries to bring up the boy with chicken pox we saw, too, before Grandmary cuts in, that’s not suitable dinner conversation. Samantha’s face falls as she sits back, and I do, too, my back suddenly itchy against the hard wooden chair.

Mrs. Ryland mutters that there’s no good fortune in a woman needing to work outside the home, but Grandmary only rings the bell for Elsa to bring more bread.