2.
"You aren't going out dressed like that, I hope?"
Alice looked down at her dark patchwork skirt and olive green sweater. "I'm only going to church."
Her mother sniffed. "Dowdy colors. You'll never catch anyone's eye if you dress like dirt. Come here, your braid is scruffy."
Alice patiently stood by her mother's fireside chair, allowing her to brush out Alice's long wavy hair and re-plait it into a satisfyingly neat cord. "I like these colors, Mom. They remind me of the garden."
"It's not very bright or cheerful," complained her mother. "You should wear something eye-popping to get more attention from nice gentlemen."
"Mom, I'm not really sure—I mean, I don't want a boyfriend who likes only smiley cheerful things. A guy like that would be Iboring/I."
"Picky, picky! So who do you Iwant/I to take up with? Some no-good soldier from the south more likely to get killed than to be there for you?"
Alice gritted her teeth, and refrained from disagreeing again. Her mother knew how she felt about Zack. The more time that went by with no letters from him… it was easier for her mother to crow, "I told you so!" and harder for Alice to insist that he was safe. He would be fine, he Iwould/I… keep his promise.
"Why," snapped Alice, "can't I love whomever I love?"
Her mother looked up at her with tear-softened eyes, her face suddenly seeming pale against the glowing fire. "Alice. All the gentlemen will be married, and you'll end up alone." Her hands trembled, pulling up the blanket on her lap. "I don't want you to be alone. If you could just find a nice, local man, someone who will always be there…"
"I don't want to be alone, either," said Alice, her breath catching urgently in her throat. Zack had, after all, never said he loved her… she had had only hope and friendship to string herself along. Was it her fault, after all, that no one ever asked her on a date? "Mom, I don't know what to do."
Her mother nodded grimly. "Go put on the white lace blouse you got for your birthday, and the pink-and-blue skirt. And for heaven's sake, Ismile/I. You're a sweet little maiden. Milk it for all it's worth."
Alice turned up the corners of her mouth in a convincingly bright smile, though her eyes remained serene and mysterious, which she simply couldn't help. "Okay."
"You aren't going out dressed like that, I hope?"
Alice looked down at her dark patchwork skirt and olive green sweater. "I'm only going to church."
Her mother sniffed. "Dowdy colors. You'll never catch anyone's eye if you dress like dirt. Come here, your braid is scruffy."
Alice patiently stood by her mother's fireside chair, allowing her to brush out Alice's long wavy hair and re-plait it into a satisfyingly neat cord. "I like these colors, Mom. They remind me of the garden."
"It's not very bright or cheerful," complained her mother. "You should wear something eye-popping to get more attention from nice gentlemen."
"Mom, I'm not really sure—I mean, I don't want a boyfriend who likes only smiley cheerful things. A guy like that would be Iboring/I."
"Picky, picky! So who do you Iwant/I to take up with? Some no-good soldier from the south more likely to get killed than to be there for you?"
Alice gritted her teeth, and refrained from disagreeing again. Her mother knew how she felt about Zack. The more time that went by with no letters from him… it was easier for her mother to crow, "I told you so!" and harder for Alice to insist that he was safe. He would be fine, he Iwould/I… keep his promise.
"Why," snapped Alice, "can't I love whomever I love?"
Her mother looked up at her with tear-softened eyes, her face suddenly seeming pale against the glowing fire. "Alice. All the gentlemen will be married, and you'll end up alone." Her hands trembled, pulling up the blanket on her lap. "I don't want you to be alone. If you could just find a nice, local man, someone who will always be there…"
"I don't want to be alone, either," said Alice, her breath catching urgently in her throat. Zack had, after all, never said he loved her… she had had only hope and friendship to string herself along. Was it her fault, after all, that no one ever asked her on a date? "Mom, I don't know what to do."
Her mother nodded grimly. "Go put on the white lace blouse you got for your birthday, and the pink-and-blue skirt. And for heaven's sake, Ismile/I. You're a sweet little maiden. Milk it for all it's worth."
Alice turned up the corners of her mouth in a convincingly bright smile, though her eyes remained serene and mysterious, which she simply couldn't help. "Okay."