The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I hear the snapping of branches and feel a sharp scrape against my ankle. I open my eyes and find myself surrounded by a whip of branches and flowers. This time I’ve landed in the tunnel of lilac bushes that connects the yard of the gray house to the yard of the house next door. But where’s my locket? I almost panic, until I realize I’m clutching it in my fist.

Just then, I hear the creak of a door hinge and voices. I crawl forward through the tunnel and peer through the leaves of the gray house. A sour-faced woman steps onto the porch with a broom in her hand. She’s wearing a long, old fashioned skirt and apron, her brown hair is pulled back into a tight bun. Behind her, a dark-haired girl skips out onto the porch and down the steps into the backyard. Her fancy pink dress has delicate lace trim, and her wide sash is tied in an enormous bow. These two seem to have walked out of the pages of a history book.

The girl takes a few steps into the yard, and my heart races. She’s walking right towards me. I shrink back into the tunnel, not sure if I want her to see me or not. Then, I hear a thumping sound. Across the yard, the woman with the bun has tossed her rug over a clothesline and is whacking it with the broom. Wouldn’t a vacuum cleaner be easier?

I glance forward again, looking for the dark-haired girl. Suddenly, she pops into view, perched on the edge of a wooden swing hanging from a tree branch. She can’t be more than three feet away from me. She looks friendly and curious, her brown eyes shining. Who is she? I wonder.

Just then there’s a sharp tug on my foot. Someone, or something, is trying to pull me backward into the tunnel. I yelp and yank my foot away. I whirl around to take a good look at my attacker. He’s a red-headed boy with a snub-nosed face. He’s on his hands and knees peering through the tunnel from the yard next door. He asks what I’m doing. I tell him that I was looking for something. It’s none of his business. He crosses through the hole after me and asked me what I’m looking for. He’s trying to sound tough, but it’s hard to take him seriously and his knee-length pants and bow tie. His clothes look as outdated as the dark-haired girl’s.

I tell him that I’m looking for this, as I dangle the locket from my hand. He seems intrigued by it and grabs the locket for a closer look. But when I see my locket, my way back home, in his hands, I start to worry and yell that it’s mine. The dark-haired girl shouts out the name Eddie. She runs over and tells him to give it back. The friendliness I saw in her face moments ago has vanished. She looks tough. Eddie drops the locket into my outstretched hand, sticks his tongue out of the girl, and scurries back through the tunnel.

The woman calls out and asks the girl what all the nonsense is about. Her name is Samantha. Before answering the woman, Samantha cocks her head at me curiously and reaches out her hand to help me up. She calls back that everything is all right, she just stumbled across a new friend. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

Samantha’s eyes flicker with surprise as she takes in my outfit. I notice for the first time the grass stains on the knees of my tan capris. My tennis shoes are untied, and there’s a thin stream of blood trickling down my ankle from where the bush scratched me. Samantha must see how embarrassed I am because she gives me a reassuring smile. She introduces herself as Samantha Parkington. She tucks one leg behind the other and dips into a curtsy, the way girls did a long time ago. I fight the urge to curtsy back because I don’t know how. I nod awkwardly. I ask if the woman is her mother. Samantha giggles and says no. That’s Elsa. She’s the maid.

Maid? I’ve never met someone who had an actual maid before. When I fall silent, Samantha keeps talking, as if she’s afraid the conversation will end. She says she doesn’t have a mother. Her parents died when she was little. She lives in the big house with Grandmary. All I can muster out is that I’m sorry. She says she doesn’t remember her parents very well. She was only five when they died. She says she’s very lucky to be able to live here with her grandmother. I say that her house is very beautiful. She must have lots of space. I think about the cramped room I share with Gracie. She says sometimes it’s too much space. It gets lonely, especially since school got out. She hasn’t seen a girl her age in ages. Until now. Suddenly, Samantha’s expression changes and I get the feeling someone is standing behind me.

It’s Elsa. She’s wearing a scowl which turns to confusion as she takes in my dirty capris. She asks if she knows me. I shake my head and tell her I don’t think so. She asks where I’m from. I don’t have my father’s address memorized yet, so I tell her I’m from the city. Realization dawns on Elsa’s face. She says I must be Ruby—the laundry girl that was supposed to come from the city. But Mrs. Edwards wasn’t expecting me until the summer’s end. She says she has enough work this week preparing for the trip to Piney Point. The last thing she needs is to be looking after a new girl.

Laundry girl? Does Elsa think I’m some kind of servant? Samantha sees my hesitation and so she says she’s not sure that I am Ruby. Perhaps I was just out riding my bicycle. I can’t answer Samantha—I’m too confused. Why does she think I was riding a bike? She says that I’m wearing bloomers. She points at my capris. She says she wishes she could learn to ride, too, but Grandmary thinks bloomers and bicycles aren’t very lady-like.

Elsa turns to me and asks which it is. Am I Ruby, coming from the city to help with the wash? Or was I just out riding one of those frightful bicycle contraptions?

I glance at Samantha. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her smile’s friendly. She seems excited to have me here, and the truth is I’m excited to get to know her better. And I’d love to see the inside of her house! If I tell Elsa I’m the laundry girl, I might get to do that. On the other hand, I don’t know much about doing laundry.