her shirtwaist had come loose from her skirt.
My feelings changed then, though I wasn't sure why. It no longer felt romantic. Now it felt wrong and dangerous.
And by that day, the day of the camera, I felt that I didn't like Austin's brother. I had never paid much attention to Paul and his antics before, not really, though I had heard his mother complain to mine that he was wild. He wasn't being wild that day, just foolish, and I could see that Nell enjoyed it and was flattered.
But I could see, also, what she didn't: that he was mocking her in a cruel and secret way.
"Who's first?" Mr. Bishop called suddenly, interrupting everyone but Laura Paisley and Pepper. The two mothers went right on talking on the porch.
"Me!" Austin shouted. Secretly, I wanted his father to take my picture, but I could never shout like that.
But Mr. Bishop paid no attention to Austin at all. He turned toward Nell and Peggy, now side by side next to the garden with its early spring flowers. In their Sunday church clothes, they were as colorful as Mrs. Bishop's tall tulips.
"Ladies?" Mr. Bishop said. "Let's have a photograph of the two lovely sisters."
Even Nell, usually so sure of herself, turned a little shy. She and Peggy were silent, but they reached out and put their arms around each other's waists. Then they smiled toward Mr. Bishop. "Hold still," he said, and squeezed the bulb attached to his large camera. I watched as they stood, arms linked, holding still. Nell was taller, almost womanly, and her dress was more grown up. Peggy still looked like what she was: a very young girl with a ribbon in her hair. With his black folding box and its magical lens, Austin's father captured the two of them in that moment when the sun was shining and they had dreams, still, and thought that their lives could be what they shaped.
I have that photograph today, for Mr. Bishop gave us a copy of it. When I look at it, I am aware that it was the last time, that day in the Bishops garden, that all of us were together and happy.
12. JULY 1911
Father took me with him in the buggy when he went to check on Mrs. Shafer's newborn twins, and he let Jessie go along this time. She and I sat one on either side of Father.
"Look!" I said to Jessie, and pointed, as we approached the Stoltz farm, which we had to pass on our way to the Shafers'. "That's Peggy's house! And Nellie's. That's where they grew up. They shared a bedroom on the second floor, but now it belongs to their sister, Anna."
"I wish I had a sister," Jessie said, frowning.
"Even a little baby one like you have would be better than none at all."
"Maybe someday you will," I suggested.
Jessie rolled her eyes. "My mother says absolutely not." I could see my father smile at that.
"Oh, look! Can you slow the horses, Father?" We were passing the large field beside the Stoltz farmhouse, and I could see Mr. Stoltz working his rig in the field, and Jacob behind him, helping.
"It'll be a good year for them," Father said. "They'll get a second hay crop in, with the first one this early."
"That horse's name is Punch," I told Jessie. "Peg told me, the day that she took me to the farm and her brother gave me the kitten."
"Punch? What kind of name is that?" Jessie wrinkled her nose.
"They had a Judy, too, but she died. Punch and Judy."
"Is that boy Peggy's brother?" Jessie asked, looking toward the field.
"Yes. His name is Jacob. He's almost fourteen." I waved to Jacob. "He's a good friend of mine," I added, feeling important to have such a friend, a half-grown boy. Austin played with Jessie and me, but older boys ignored us; or worse, like Paul Bishop, they made fun, and called us babies.
Father slowed our own horses and tipped his hat to Mr. Stoltz, who looked over and nodded without slowing his work.
Jacob seemed to be looking at us but did not wave back or nod his head the way his father had. Mrs. Stoltz and Anna were nowhere in sight, and I thought they must be in the house. There was washing on their
My feelings changed then, though I wasn't sure why. It no longer felt romantic. Now it felt wrong and dangerous.
And by that day, the day of the camera, I felt that I didn't like Austin's brother. I had never paid much attention to Paul and his antics before, not really, though I had heard his mother complain to mine that he was wild. He wasn't being wild that day, just foolish, and I could see that Nell enjoyed it and was flattered.
But I could see, also, what she didn't: that he was mocking her in a cruel and secret way.
"Who's first?" Mr. Bishop called suddenly, interrupting everyone but Laura Paisley and Pepper. The two mothers went right on talking on the porch.
"Me!" Austin shouted. Secretly, I wanted his father to take my picture, but I could never shout like that.
But Mr. Bishop paid no attention to Austin at all. He turned toward Nell and Peggy, now side by side next to the garden with its early spring flowers. In their Sunday church clothes, they were as colorful as Mrs. Bishop's tall tulips.
"Ladies?" Mr. Bishop said. "Let's have a photograph of the two lovely sisters."
Even Nell, usually so sure of herself, turned a little shy. She and Peggy were silent, but they reached out and put their arms around each other's waists. Then they smiled toward Mr. Bishop. "Hold still," he said, and squeezed the bulb attached to his large camera. I watched as they stood, arms linked, holding still. Nell was taller, almost womanly, and her dress was more grown up. Peggy still looked like what she was: a very young girl with a ribbon in her hair. With his black folding box and its magical lens, Austin's father captured the two of them in that moment when the sun was shining and they had dreams, still, and thought that their lives could be what they shaped.
I have that photograph today, for Mr. Bishop gave us a copy of it. When I look at it, I am aware that it was the last time, that day in the Bishops garden, that all of us were together and happy.
12. JULY 1911
Father took me with him in the buggy when he went to check on Mrs. Shafer's newborn twins, and he let Jessie go along this time. She and I sat one on either side of Father.
"Look!" I said to Jessie, and pointed, as we approached the Stoltz farm, which we had to pass on our way to the Shafers'. "That's Peggy's house! And Nellie's. That's where they grew up. They shared a bedroom on the second floor, but now it belongs to their sister, Anna."
"I wish I had a sister," Jessie said, frowning.
"Even a little baby one like you have would be better than none at all."
"Maybe someday you will," I suggested.
Jessie rolled her eyes. "My mother says absolutely not." I could see my father smile at that.
"Oh, look! Can you slow the horses, Father?" We were passing the large field beside the Stoltz farmhouse, and I could see Mr. Stoltz working his rig in the field, and Jacob behind him, helping.
"It'll be a good year for them," Father said. "They'll get a second hay crop in, with the first one this early."
"That horse's name is Punch," I told Jessie. "Peg told me, the day that she took me to the farm and her brother gave me the kitten."
"Punch? What kind of name is that?" Jessie wrinkled her nose.
"They had a Judy, too, but she died. Punch and Judy."
"Is that boy Peggy's brother?" Jessie asked, looking toward the field.
"Yes. His name is Jacob. He's almost fourteen." I waved to Jacob. "He's a good friend of mine," I added, feeling important to have such a friend, a half-grown boy. Austin played with Jessie and me, but older boys ignored us; or worse, like Paul Bishop, they made fun, and called us babies.
Father slowed our own horses and tipped his hat to Mr. Stoltz, who looked over and nodded without slowing his work.
Jacob seemed to be looking at us but did not wave back or nod his head the way his father had. Mrs. Stoltz and Anna were nowhere in sight, and I thought they must be in the house. There was washing on their
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