Chapter 1: My Papa's Waltz
Lilly rested in her bed looking up at the ceiling of her room with tears in her eyes. What had she done? What had made her father so angry? She was trying to be a good little girl but she would always mess things up. Why?
She held her head tenderly as she wished for the pain to stop as it pounded relentlessly the same way her father had. The cut on her ear from a shard of a china dish stung unbearably and Lilly cried even harder. She tried to stop, holding her breath and thinking that would calm herself but it served to do nothing else but make her feel the blood rushing to her head. She let out the imprisoned air and tried just taking deep breaths. This was a normal occurrence for ten-year-old Lilly and she had learned quickly that if she didn't keep quiet after her violent punishment from her father, then he would become annoyed with her howling and then teach her another lesson. She didn't want to come anywhere near him for the rest of the night after what had just happened. Lilly along with her sister and father were eating supper and afterwards, Lilly had offered to take the dishes to the maid to be washed. She cheerfully picked up each plate and on the way to the kitchen, she stepped on the hem of her long dress and fell forward, dishes crashing and shattering when she hit the wood paneled floor. Not only did she have to deal with a small scratch on her ear from the plates, but she had to deal with her father, who yanked her up to her feet then shouted at her for being clumsy. He yelled that those were some of the best dished that she had just destroyed and he followed his correction with a firm slap across her cheek. She yelped in pain and tried to bring her hand up to her red cheek but her father refused to let her try to ease her pain. He instead told her to stand still as he grabbed a large metal spoon from the kitchen and continued with his punishment. Her rear end and her back were in the most pain until she started screaming when he would hit her.
"You've got nothing to cry about! I'm not even hurting you that badly," he said crossly and took the spoon and knocked her upside the head and then said, "Now you've got something to cry about."
She would look desperately to her sister through blurry, tearful eyes but her sister Jane was too scared to intervene. Jane simply sat at the table with her eyes closed and winced every time he would strike the poor girl. Now, you might be thinking that Jane is a terrible sister for never trying to defend her sibling. Although in reality, she wanted to so badly. She once had pleaded with her dad to stop beating a small, seven-year-old Lilly for making a mistake when her father then shifted his glaring gaze to his eldest child and gave Jane the same beating he had just given Lilly for interfering with Lilly's discipline. Lilly never blamed her sister after that for not coming to her side.
She cried softly remembering a time when this would never have happened. When the house was full of love and forgiveness and Lilly didn't have to worry about being beaten. Maybe scolded, but never stricken to the point of tears. Her whimpers and sniffles were heard by Jane, who was across the hall. Lilly's sister carefully opened the door and let herself in and spied the small, shivering form curled up in a bed with the blanket up to her chin. Her light footsteps caused the floor to creek and Lilly gasped and turned around to face the intruder. She relaxed when she saw who it was and sat up.
"Are you alright, Lilly?" Jane asked gently and sat down on the edge of the bed. Lilly did not reply with words but with an embrace. Her only source of security now was Jane and she held onto her as if her life depended on it. Jane returned the hug and patted her head, whispering soft words of encouragement.
"Oh, it's alright, Lilly Billy. It'll be fine, you'll see. Father loves us so he wants us to grow up right. He's trying to teach us to do well at things," she said and Lilly loosened her grip and looked Jane in the eyes while still clasping her hands behind Jane's neck.
"Then why does he call me stupid and useless? I try to be good like taking the dishes to the kitchen tonight. I didn't mean to drop them," said Lilly whose breathing was so uneven that she hiccupped in-between words.
"He was just angry. You know how harsh I can get when you take my things without asking my consent. I don't mean it, and neither does Father. He just forgets to be patient sometimes. So do not blame yourself. You try, and that's all that matters."
"Jane, will you stay in my room tonight?"
"If it will make you feel better," answered Jane and Lilly lifted the covers up to let her sister in.
"You're almost as big as Mum was now," said Lilly as her sister snuggled into the bed next to her.
"Well I'm almost fifteen. I'm practically an adult now so I guess I am about as big as Mother was."
"You remind me of her."
"Do I? How?"
"You're smart. And you look like her. And you're funny like Mum was. Lots of reasons."
"Do you remember Mother that well?"
"Sometimes I do," whispered Lilly as she closed her eyes and yawned. She was finally able to truly relax now that the pain had subsided. "When I close my eyes I can see her sometimes. Can't you?"
"Not very well. Her face seems very dull and blurry in my mind," answered the older girl as she looked up at the cloudy ceiling thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when you get a new pencil that's just been sharpened and it writes very well?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's how I used to be able to remember Mother. But I've tried to remember her so many times that the new sharp pencil has been used too much, and now the lines aren't as fine and precise. They're mixed and hard to recognize."
"Then just make it up."
"What do you mean? Make up my own mother's face?"
"Yes! If you don't remember what she looked like, imagine what you think she might have looked like. That's what I do when I read books too. If I don't have a picture, then I just think it up in my head. It's not so hard."
"You're the one who's most like Mother, not me," commented Jane laughing a little at her sister's innocence. Neither said anything after that as they both slowly drifted off into sleep.
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Lilly awoke with a start as Jane shook her irritably.
"Finally! I thought you were dead. You sleep like a log, Lilly. Time to get up. We need to go to school," said Jane as she affectionately slapped her sister's behind and Lilly jumped with a giggly squeal.
The morning was never an enemy to Lilly for she never had trouble getting out of bed at the crack of dawn if she needed to. School started at eight o'clock and they had thirty minutes to eat breakfast, get dressed, and be out the door by 7:30. Their father had slept in so they had no more run-ins with him as they continued their morning routine. As they stood in front of the mirror of their bathroom brushing their teeth, they would chitchat the best they could with mouths full of toothpaste.
"So, what are we going to do after school today?" asked Lilly as comprehensively as she could.
"We're probably going to have to come straight home after school," replied Jane after she had spit out some lathered toothpaste.
"Aw, why? They're going to get a big group together this afternoon to play games."
"If you promise to do your schoolwork afterwards, then we'll go." Lilly did a little dance of joy and then spit out her own mouthful of foam.
In their grey skirts and thick, navy sweaters, they set out for school. The walk was not an unpleasant one but neither of them enjoyed their little journeys to school everyday. 'Back to the old grind', their dad used to say. Yes, the teacher grinding her nails against the blackboard when the class would become too chatty. The grinding of pencils to desks as each unruly student left their mark in someone else's name. The metaphorical grinding that the teachers would do to their brains with facts, dates, and formulas. School was as painful as grinding your own hand in a mill. Their anticipation of the day was what made their trip there so horrid.
They never overestimated their school day either. This was one day that Mrs. Shernault was not tolerating any fooling around. With her nose high in the air, she pointed to the French word on the blackboard and told the class to repeat after her. A very weak echo returned to her and she was not pleased. She asked the class to tell her what the word meant and when no hands rose into the air, she picked out a victim.
"Lilly Parker," she called sternly as the small girl looked up from her French book. "Tell me the translation."
Lilly froze. 'The translation?' That was exactly what she had been searching for in her book. Unfortunately, the entire book was teaching French… in French so it was of no assistance to her.
"Um… la gorge? It means…. uh… it means…," she stumbled and searched her mind for any knowledge of this word. The teacher folded her arms across her chest and waited very impatiently for an answer. Jane, who was sitting directly in front of poor Lilly, reached carefully up to rub the back of her neck and hoped that her sister would understand the hint she was giving her.
"Is something wrong, Jane?" the teacher asked harshly. Jane shook her head and brought her hand back to her lap. She hoped that Lilly had gotten the message. Lilly saw the gesture and interpreted it completely wrong but answered with the best guess she could come up with.
"The neck?" she said meekly as more of a question than a statement and the children snickered. The teacher gave her a cold look and responded in the same icy way.
"No, Lilly. La gorge means 'the throat'. I would suggest you pay more attention in my class or I might have to send a note home about your inattention in my schoolroom."
Lilly hung her head feeling completely embarrassed and had her eyes glued to the blackboard until the lunch bell rang and the children went back into the cloakroom where they kept their coats and lunch pails. The pair of siblings sat and ate lunch and conversed about the day. Lunchtime flew by and they were back in the stuffy, gloomy classroom. The rest of the day went on, no more eventful than the beginning of it, and their entire room was relieved of all its tension when a sharp bell rang and signaled the release of the students. The girls gathered their things and walked outside to observe a group of kids getting ready for an afternoon of fun and games. Lilly looked pleadingly up at her older sister and Jane rolled her eyes and sighed before nodding. She would never understand why Lilly would get so excited about playing with the same kids who would make fun of her during class or give her unfriendly looks when she would try to talk to them. However, Lilly would never understand why Jane had more enjoyment in being alone in her room drawing than outside in the sunshine playing a round of tag.
It was time to choose who was "it" in this game of freeze-tag. Jane settled herself on a bench under an oak tree that sat near the cluster of people that fought over who was going to be the first one to run around like a maniac and hit people until there were none left moving. So as the others indulged in a frivolous child's game, Jane pulled out an old, worn out notebook that held her drawings. She had to keep herself entertained why Lilly ran around the grassy lot.
"One, two, three!" one child yelled and a roaring reply of "NOT IT!" in unison came. Lilly was not apart of the reply though. She looked at the others rather confused and wondered why they had responded that way.
"You're the last one so you're 'it' now, Lilly," someone said and all the kids scattered immediately so as to get away from Lilly.
For a good hour, the game went on until it started getting late. Jane glanced at an old watch that her father had given her and it read 5:30. Dinner always started at six o'clock on the dot and they needed to get home before it got too dark out. Jane called to Lilly and once she had pried the smaller child away from her game, they were off. They ran all the way home. Jane noticed that her sister was running rather desperately though. She almost seemed frightened. She decided not to ask about it and concentrated on their destination.
The barely made it to their home before the streetlamps were lit. They knew that they were sure to get a scolding from the maid Betsy but knew that it was better than a scolding from their dad. They hung up their coats and made it to the dinner table just before Betsy had come out with the dinner platter. They arranged themselves in their usual seats and Betsy came in holding a large silver platter in her hands. She gave them a harsh look but said nothing to them about their late arrival. She rang a bell that was sitting on the white lace tablecloth as an announcement to Mr. Parker that dinner was served.
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"I think we got off pretty easy, don't you think?" asked Lilly as they retreated the nursery which was only occupied by Lilly. Jane had long moved out of it to her own separate room.
"I think Betsy was trying not to start a ruckus after last night. She didn't want that starting up again," Jane answered back.
"Jane, can I tell you a secret?" whispered the small girl as she beckoned Jane to come closer to her.
"What is it?"
"I saw someone following us. Back when we were running home, I saw a shadow behind us."
"They were probably just going in the same direction that we were, that's all. They weren't following us."
"But Jane, when I looked back to see who it was, there was no one there. I kept seeing something moving after us out of the corner of my eyes though. I think they were after us for some reason."
"I think you were imagining it. It was getting dark and you always get a bit anxious when it's nighttime."
"No Jane! I know there was a person chasing us!"
Nonsense. I don't want to hear anymore about it. You'll scare yourself with talk like that. Now, it's almost time for bed so get your nightgown on."
"Alright, fine," declared Lilly and she went to her dresser and pulled out her favorite green nightgown.
"How's about a story tonight, Lil? We haven't had a story in ages," she suggested and Lilly immediately answered that she "would very much like a story tonight."
"Tell me a new one that I haven't heard," she said and jumped onto the bed and bounced a bit.
"Hm… I think I know one you've never heard before. Ever heard the one about Peter Pan?"
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A/N: I hate to leave you right there but I think it's a good cut-off point for right now. Any thoughts? Ideas? Anything you did or didn't like? By the way, the title of this chapter "My Papa's Waltz" is after a poem about a boy and his abusive father. And all beginning chapters suck because you have to get the background before the real story starts.