The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

As soon as Elsa steps back inside, Samantha drops to her knees on the grass and I quickly join her, sweeping our open fingers side to side through the cool blades. I feel like the luckiest girl alive when I spot the brooch twinkling beneath the clothesline, a dragonfly with ruby eyes and turquoise wings. Samantha shrieks as I close my fingers around it, then jumps up, brushing off her pinafore. We need to take it to Grandmary right away.

We race through the kitchen past Elsa’s gaping mouth and nearly collide with Mrs. Hawkins in the hallway, who tells us to slow down. Grandmary’s having tea in the parlor with Mrs. Ryland.

Samantha races ahead, then composes herself just outside the door. Inside, Mrs. Edwards and red-haired Mrs. Ryland glance up in surprise. At Samantha’s urging, I proudly present the dragonfly brooch, holding it flat on my open palm.

Mrs. Edwards praises us, delighted it turned up in the grass, but Mrs. Ryland eyes me suspiciously, as if I’d pulled it from my own sleeve, remarking snidely that grass seems an unlikely spot. Samantha juts out her chin and says exactly what I wish I could: it very likely fell off while I did the wash yesterday. Mrs. Edwards scolds her tone, but the warmth in her eyes tells me she never suspected me. So why does Mrs. Ryland?

Back outside, I ask Samantha why Mrs. Ryland dislikes me when she doesn’t even know me. Samantha shrugs, kicking at the grass. It’s just how some people treat servants, unfair as that is. I say it’s unfair, and she agrees, apologizing as if it’s her fault, which it isn’t. I tell her it’s funny, since the girl I’m supposedly working for treats me better than anyone. I thank her for everything, and her face falls, catching the note of goodbye in my voice.

Samantha’s right, and I know it. It’s time for me to go. I’ll miss her, but I can’t keep pretending to be Ruby with Elsa constantly reminding me of my place. Samantha nods sadly, worried about whatever comes next for me, some job that treats me worse, works me harder. I think of the chore chart on Dad’s fridge. After yesterday and today, anything there is a piece of cake.

I promise Samantha I’ll be treated fairly, and she looks relieved, some of the worry easing right out of her shoulders. When Mrs. Edwards calls, she hugs me quickly and hurries inside.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Edwards calls me in, too, apologizing for the upset over her brooch and calling me trustworthy, though Samantha’s told her I won’t be continuing on.

I explain I appreciate the work, but it’s time to go home. Disappointment flickers in her eyes as she agrees to settle up, pulling a crisp dollar bill from an envelope even though I haven’t worked a full week. As she hands it over, the last two days flash through my mind, all the chores and the scoldings and the small kindnesses too. I didn’t earn much money, but I learned plenty: how to treat people, how not to, and what real work actually feels like. When I get home, I’ll offer to do more chores, anything except laundry.