The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

Back at the house, Grandmary hands the aspirin to Mrs. Hawkins, saying Dr. Barnett may prefer modern medicine, but she trusts tried-and-true willow bark tea, steeped strong and bitter, with a spoonful of thick cod-liver oil besides. Samantha wrinkles her nose in disgust, so Mrs. Hawkins decides she’ll have a spoonful, too.

Settling into a velvet chair, Grandmary asks whether Mother has a telephone Hawkins could try. I shake my head. Mom does have a cell phone, but there’s no reaching her that way, not from here. So I’ll spend the night, and tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get me home. A sleepover here? My stomach flutters at the thought. Samantha grins at me.

Spotting Elsa in the hallway, Grandmary calls her in to set one more place at dinner, for me. Elsa gives me a slow, appraising once-over and a flat, “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Hawkins arrives with teapots and cups, then a small brown bottle: the cod-liver oil. Its fishy smell reaches me before the spoon does, and even holding my nose tightly, as Samantha instructs, I gag on the oily liquid. She holds her own nose for her spoonful, gagging, too. Sipping tea afterward, I try to sit up straight and take small, careful sips like her. This must take forever to finish a whole cup this way.

Grandmary finally stands: the Rylands will be here soon for dinner, so Samantha should take me up to find something appropriate to wear.

Climbing the stairs, Samantha promises to find me something perfect, since eating with adults is apparently a special treat. A treat? Mom has me at the table most weeknights. A treat is eating in front of the TV on movie night. Still, I’m curious what dinner here will actually be like.

Samantha’s bedroom is wallpapered in pink and white stripes, with delicate curtains and a satin canopy bed trimmed in lace. She flings open a tall wardrobe full of dresses, plaid with puffy sleeves, striped with ruffled skirts, satin with delicate lace collars, and though I tell her she’s lucky, she’s too busy having fun picking mine out to notice, eventually landing on a lacy lilac dress with a lavender satin bow.

I’m about to step into it when Samantha stops me: undergarments first. A chemise, essentially a long undershirt, then baggy drawers, both reaching to my knees, then finally a lacy petticoat skirt.

By the time I head downstairs, I’m also wearing long stockings with garters, high button boots, and a huge lavender bow in my hair, fighting the urge to duck self-consciously as I walk. But the dress swishes nicely against my legs, and with my silver locket as the finishing touch, I feel like a wealthy young lady, poised and elegant.

Hawkins leads us into the dining room, where everyone’s dressed elegantly, Grandmary seated like a queen at one end, a suited Mr. Ryland at the other, and beside him Mrs. Ryland, red-haired in a rose gown, giving me a haughty look. Next to her sits a freckle-faced boy staring wide-eyed at me like I have two heads: Eddie, from the lilac bushes.

Avoiding Eddie’s gaze, I study the place setting in front of me, china plate, crisp tablecloth, an array of polished forks, spoons, and knives, a gleaming crystal goblet, and a napkin folded into a tube. Grumpy as she is, Elsa clearly knows how to set a table.

Elsa pushes through the swinging door with a tray of steaming bowls, Mrs. Hawkins bustling busily in the kitchen behind her, red-cheeked with a towel over one shoulder. I notice there’s no place set for any of them. They’re working hard to prepare this dinner without ever getting to enjoy it themselves.

The bowl of soup lands in front of me, salty and warm, steam curling up from the bowl, and I realize just how hungry I am. But which spoon do I use?