July 16th

Dearest Claire,

Hi, my sweet little sister. How are you? How is Mother? Any word yet from Father? I know he will find something soon. I think of you all every day, and not just in my prayers.

And how is my dear dog, Baxter? I’m counting on you to feed him but not so much as to make him fat. Also please do cuddle him from time to time but not so much that he forgets who I am. I know, I know, I’ve only been gone three days. But I miss you. I miss you all so much!

Probably Mother is right—a girl in the city by herself. Maybe this is a mistake. I hope not too big a mistake. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for so long. And of course there’s the much-needed money. Our first payday is this coming Friday. Tell Mother I will send home as much as I can. But most of all there is the adventure. Seventeen years is long enough to live in a little town! I’m not alone, after all. There’s Marianne and Lisel, two of the girls from the troupe. Be sure to tell Mother that! This is their second year, and they both seem very nice. It will be such fun!

We’re living in a very nice apartment across the street from a wonderful park, and I have my own room, although Mr. Reynolds says that another girl will be sharing it with me soon. So far I have not had time to be lonely. This city is just too busy! Baxter would go wild with all the pigeons. I prefer to watch the people. There are more cars and people in each block than in our whole little town! The first night I was up until all hours just staring at them out the window. But I miss you. Maybe soon you could visit? I will save up and send you train tickets! Or in two years you could be here with me! You’ve just got to practice more. Mr. Warner is a good teacher. He told me more than once in the past year that he thought you had the talent, if only you would work at it. You should work at it! Oh, I miss you, Claire, I do, I do, I do!

This morning Lisel and Marianne and I walked in the park across the street. It was so pretty. I saw many people and many dogs out walking. Baxter could have such fun romping on the lawns! There were wild parts, too. I asked Lisel if there were any wild animals in the woods, and she said, “Oh, sure, wolves galore. The three-legged kind. Better not come out here after dark.” I knew she was teasing me. I said, “I thought maybe some deer,” and she laughed.

Tomorrow we’re going to the mountains. Lisel says it’s to do some publicity photographs. An expedition, she called it. We’ll be driving in Mr. Reynolds’ car. I hope they don’t expect me to ski. Later this afternoon Mr. Reynolds and Henry the photographer will take us shopping for clothing. What do skiers wear? Besides skis, of course! I will let you know.

Your loving sister,

Elizabeth

July 17th

Dearest Claire,

I don’t know what to say. I stared at the page for ten minutes before I could move the pen again. Strange things are happening. Happening so fast. Maybe too fast. I looked at the ‘Dear’ of ‘Dear Claire’ and I thought about the deer I saw this afternoon. Mr. Reynolds said it was a red-tailed deer. Henry, the photographer, said no, it was a red deer, not a red-tailed deer, that there was not such a thing as red-tailed deer, that he must have been thinking of a red-tailed hawk or a white-tailed deer. Mr. Reynolds and Henry pretended to argue about it, but I think maybe they were teasing me. Mr. Reynolds especially seems to like to tease me—I’m so easy to tease—but it’s Henry who makes me blush. He’s so proper with his round head and his bushy whiskers and his bright blue eyes. I bet he can’t be more than 25 but he tries to pretend he’s much older. One thing for sure, it was a pretty pretty deer—a doe, I think, because there were no horns, and no you-know-what, no piper, not that I was looking there! The fur of her flanks was soft and red, and her movements were so delicate, so graceful even when she was standing perfectly still. That’s what she was—perfect! Then in a twitch she was gone—too quick for Henry to make a photograph, even were his camera all set up and ready. You will just have to imagine how pretty the deer was, Claire, how still and gentle and alive. Maybe I’m not sorry there wasn’t a picture. You’d need to see the colors.

After the deer disappeared, Mr. Reynolds started teasing me again. He said I was prettier—that my red hair glinting in the sun was the prettiest he’d ever seen. I think he just wanted to see me blush again. I’m sure I didn’t disappoint him.

The argument about what kind of deer it was happened at the salt lick. That’s a block of salt set out for the deers, a big cube about a foot on each side except for the trough across the top where the deer have licked a smooth channel. Thinking about the deer’s tongue scraping along the salt makes me shiver, especially after Reynolds said the salt was set out by hunters, and that in the fall they’d wait hidden in the trees with rifles. “You haven’t tasted anything until you’ve tasted venison,” Reynolds said. “Venison in a red wine sauce.” That made me so sad. It’s so unfair. Hunters should be shot!

Oh, I forgot to tell you where we were! Not in the city, of course. We were on a picnic up in the mountains called the Catskill Mountains. Not real mountains by any means—I didn’t see a single peak. I was so silly to think that there might be skiing, especially now in the summer. After that postcard Father brought home of the Alps, with snow and steep slopes, I was very disappointed. All morning we drove and drove in Mr. Reynolds’ dark green Packard convertible, and I kept waiting to see the snow. I’m so foolish! The drive took forever, but I could say it never really felt like we were getting any higher—for every hill we climbed we dipped just as far into the next valley. Still the drive was fun. The breeze was blowing. The sun was shining. My arms were warm and my hair flew all over the place. I sat in front with Henry while Mr. Reynolds sat in back with Marianne and Lisel, who were laughing and giggling all the time, and I felt a little strange being always the quiet one. I’m not sure what they were laughing and giggling about, but almost as soon as we left the city they started some sort of kissing game. If Mr. Reynolds saw a cow on the right side of the road Lisel had to give Mr. Reynolds a kiss, and if Mr. Reynolds saw a cow on the left side of the road Marianne had to give him a kiss—I think those were the rules. Mr. Reynolds saw an awfully lot of cows. Once Marianne complained that it wasn’t a cow he saw, it was a barn, and Mr. Reynolds said, “Well, there’s cows in the barn, hypothetical cows. Marianne asked what hypothetical meant and Mr. Reynolds explained it—he said it meant imaginary, and so Marianne said, “Well, then you can have an imaginary kiss.” But then I think the rules got changed because she kissed him anyway, and then Mr. Reynolds said, “What about a barn door kiss?” A barn door kiss is—Well, I’m not going to tell you what that is, because I’m not really sure myself.

We had wine at the picnic. Wine from France. I don’t think it was Champagne, but the corks popped loud and Reynolds poured us all big glasses and we toasted and drank and toasted and drank. By the second glass we were all making up silly toasts. “Bottoms up,” Henry said. “Upsy Daisy,” Marianne said. Everybody laughed as if this was hilarious and drank and laughed some more. Henry refilled the glasses. “Tops Down,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Downsy Daisy Do,” said Lisel, and everybody laughed some more and drank some more. Then Henry said, “Elizabeth, my dear, aren’t you going to make a toast?” I shook my head because I didn’t know what to say, but everyone said, “Come on, you have to, it’s your turn,” so I said, “Downsy Daisy Do Do,” and everybody laughed and laughed. I blushed so much for having made a naughty toast, but I was secretly proud everybody liked it. “Time for another bottle,” Mr. Reynolds said, and Henry popped it, and before you know it that second bottle was almost empty. Marianne drank the last of it straight out of the bottle, and Henry said that would have made a good photograph with the bottle tipped back, and Mr. Reynolds said it was a shame we only had the two bottles, but he winked and he said he knew where we could get two more, and Marianne said don’t be naughty, and eventually the sandwiches were all eaten and my head was spinning, spinning, spinning. Oh, Claire, it was all I could do not to fall Downsy Daisy Do. Then Henry set up his camera because the light was getting to the angle he wanted, and he took some photographs of us, which was the whole point of the expedition, though at first I hadn’t understood why we couldn’t have taken the photographs in the park across from the hotel, that one I told you about in the last letter. It’s a really beautiful park. But then I figured it out quickly enough when—well, I won’t tell you. Well, I guess I will, but don’t tell Mother this part. In fact, don’t tell Mother about any of this, especially not about the barn door kiss. You must promise! If I find out you have told, we will never speak again.

The reason we couldn’t take the pictures in the park across the street is because we were practically naked except for our little petties. Henry took one photograph after another and all we had to wear besides our petties was one white shawl for the three of us. I’m just glad it was a warm sunny day. I felt a little uneasy about it, not so much the taking off the clothes part, because Marianne and Lisel were there and they went first and they didn’t seem uncomfortable about it at all. Of course both of them were so beautiful, with big round eyes and long flowing hair and long legs and so ons and so forths so plump and round! Oh, Claire, so white they were, not a freckle anywhere. The air did feel good on such a warm day, and Mr. Reynolds kept telling us things to try making us laugh, and Henry kept saying “hold still, hold still, don’t laugh, don’t laugh,” which made us laugh all the more. Then Mr. Reynolds said something, I don’t know what, and suddenly Lisel and Marianne were stepping out of their petties. I couldn’t believe it, that they didn’t mind showing their fluffs. Marianne’s was wild like a black cat ruffled up after its bath, and Lisel’s was curly, too, but tamer and there was not as much of it. Then Mr. Reynolds said, “You, too, Lizzy,” but I couldn’t. I felt like a little kid, all gangly and awkward, having barely any hair down there, and mine being smooth and thin and not nearly enough to cover my crease. They were all looking at me, and suddenly I felt so ugly, so ashamed, knowing I look more like a boy than a girl except with a peeper instead of a piper, knowing I didn’t belong in these photographs. Maybe I can dance well enough, but I don’t think I can look well enough. Henry saved me. He said, “It’s okay, Elizabeth, maybe some other time. We can’t waste any more of this perfect light.” I didn’t know whether to feel bad or good, and in truth I wanted to take off my petties, part of me did. Aren’t I awful! The sun dipped further and further and it was grazing the tippy-tops of the tall trees before Henry did the last photograph of Lisel and Marianne.

“You girls were so good,” Henry said when it was over. “Medicine time,” Mr. Reynolds said. He took out a small dark bottle and poured a few drops of liquid into a little spoon and fed the spoon first to Marianne and then Lisel. “And now you, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Reynolds said to me, and there was the little spoon right in front of my nose.

“What is it for?” I asked. “I’m not ill.”

Lisel laughed. “It makes you delicious. All woozy and melted.”

“She doesn’t deserve any,” Marianne said. She said it rather sharply, startling Mr. Reynolds, and he spilled the spoon of medicine onto my left shoulder. Right away it started trickling down my chest.

“Oh,” Lisel said, “Oh, we shouldn’t waste it.” And suddenly, she was licking my shoulder, her tickly tongue following the trail of medicine all the way down my chest to—to the point, and Lisel was lapping up the spill, licking me right to the very edge. And then. Oh, Claire, then she licked me there, too, even though the spill hadn’t gone that far. She licked and sucked and then she stared up at me and smiled, and before I could think, she bent her head back to my chest and began kissing me again. I could feel the tip of her tongue pointing and poking and flicking and I could feel her lips pulling and then her teeth and then her lips again and I was so embarrassed I thought I might cry or faint and then I did cry only it was more like a gasp or a moan and my whole body filled with shivers.

“It’s okay,” Marianne said. “It was just in fun.”

“We should have a picture of that fun,” Mr. Reynolds said. “A little souvenir. Henry, why don’t you put in a plate?”

“Not a good idea,” Henry said. Right then part of me liked Henry more than Mr. Reynolds, and right then part of me liked Marianne more than Lisel, but another part of me liked Mr. Reynolds and Lisel more, and most of me just had no idea. I could still feel the wet of Lisel’s lips, and the tingling, and it was going through my whole body, silvery hot and slippery. And my other point wanted so badly to be kissed, too. It felt like it was swelling up, aching for the touch of Lisel’s tongue. I almost couldn’t stand it. I almost couldn’t stand. I had to turn away. I was sure everyone knew every naughty inch of my feelings, and I was mortified with shame.

That’s when I saw the deer standing at the edge of the woods. It was watching us. I brushed away my tears and pointed to it. It looked so calm. “Look!” Lisel said, as if she had been the one to see it first. “A deer!” We all looked at it, and suddenly it looked nervous, and suddenly it was gone. Lisel and Marianne were bounding across the grass towards where it had disappeared. I don’t know if they were trying to catch it, or if they were pretending to be deer, or if they had any idea what they were doing. Henry adjusted his camera. “They’re just going to be a blur,” he told Mr. Reynolds. “Yeah, a beautiful blur,” Mr. Reynolds said, and he winked at me, and I wished I had been running with them, running with Marianne and Lisel, running with the deer. The three of us walked to the salt lick at the edge of the woods where the deer had been and where Lisel and Marianne were now standing. That was when Henry and Mr. Reynolds started arguing about what kind of deer it was. For a moment I actually thought they were going to fight. But then Lisel said, “What about the cork game?” and Mr. Reynolds said, “Oh ho, I almost forgot. Henry?” And Henry reached into his jacket pocket and handed Mr. Reynolds the two corks from the wine bottles. Mr. Reynolds pretended to weigh the corks in his hands, though they looked identical to me, and then he mixed them up, shuffling them back and forth and back and forth, and then he put his hands behind his back. “Who wants to be first?” he said. Right away Lisel said, “I do, I do,” and she tapped at Mr. Reynolds’ right shoulder. Mr. Reynolds brought his right hand around, and sure enough, there in his fist was the wine bottle cork with a little pink stain at one end. He gave it to Lisel. Then he brought his other arm around and on his palm was the second cork, also with a little pink stain, and he presented that cork to Marianne. “I’m sorry,” Mr. Reynolds said to me. “Next time we really will need more bottles. Henry?” Henry nodded. “I don’t understand the game,” I said. “There was a cork in each hand. What was the point? They were the same, weren’t they?” “They were,” Henry answered. I turned to Lisel and Marianne, and they giggled. “What is so funny?” I asked them. They giggled again. “Where are the corks,” I asked when I saw that they weren’t holding them. Marianne and Lisel tried to be solemn, but they couldn’t—giggles sputtered out again. “Better get dressed, girls,” Henry said. “It’s time we were going.”