(This scene was America’s outfit for her
sendoff being hemmed because, of course, she insisted on wearing flats. It
briefly mentions America’s conduit by name: Mitsy.)
There
was more fussing and fidgeting and ten minutes later Mrs. Leger walked in with
her sewing basket. Her eyes were full of tears while she worked, so it took
longer than planned. And when she cried, I cried. And when I cried, Mom cried.
And Mitsy cried a little, too, until her sunny disposition couldn’t handle it
anymore.
“Mrs.
Singer, we should talk about security for the rest of your family. Where are
your two younger children?” And they left to find May and Gerad, leaving me
alone with Mrs. Leger.
“I’m
so proud of you, America. I’ve watched you grow up, and you’ve turned into such
a beautiful young lady. I’d be proud to have you be my queen.”
“Oh,
stop. I’m not going to be anyone’s queen. I’ll just do my duty and come back to
you all. I’ll bet I’m home long before Christmas. And we’ll have our party two
days late as always, and play our silly games, and it’ll be just like it always
has been.” I was trying to convince myself more than her.
It
took a few more minutes for her to get enough stitches in so she’d be able to
take them home and sew them up properly. I took them off and slipped into my
old jeans.
“I’ll
bring these back later tonight; it’s a fairly easy job.” She smiled at me. The
tears in her eyes were heavy again, but she wasn’t exactly crying. “Can I tell
you a little secret, America?”
“Of
course. Anything.” My lip was trembling, all the emotions I’d felt over the
last few weeks finally bubbling up under the pressure.
She
took my hands in hers and came in very close. I felt it there in her hands what
I’d never felt in my mother’s: complete acceptance.
“I’m
as happy for you as I would be for my own daughters. But I’m a little sad,
because I’d been imagining for a while that I would get to call you my daughter
one day. It’s hard to give you up, even to a queen.”
She
knew!
“How?
How long?” I was floored.
“You’re
better at keeping secrets than he is. He couldn’t help but talk about you. And,
though I could be wrong, I suspect it ended before you were chosen.”
“It
did,” I breathed.
“I
see. Well, I have a little peace then, knowing he just didn’t quit, that it’s
not that he wasn’t brave enough to wait.”
“I
want to tell you so much, but I just . . . I can’t.”
“No
dear, they’ll hear. It’s ok. I just want you to know that I love you, and I’m proud
of you. You do what you need to do, and you take care of yourself and your
family.”
“America!”
Mom called.
“Coming!”
I yelled out the door, then turned back to Mrs. Leger. “Thank you. For
everything.”
She
nodded once and was on her way.
