In between the last chapter and this one, my beloved papi was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He fought bravely but ultimately went gently into that good night near the end of March.

Thank you to my readers for being supportive and patient through this extremely difficult time for me. I know you guys have been waiting for this chapter a long time; I can't in good faith commit to a posting schedule but I have no intention of flouncing from MFoG. Thank you to my betas for being the shiznit, as always. Thank you to His Golden Eyes, UU, The_gazebo and all the other blogs that have pimped my shit. I appreciate all of you so very much.

Disclaimer: SMeyers owns Alice and Twilight. I own the rest.

###

June 23th, 1920

"I'm going to drop her."

"You're not going to drop her."

"Are you sure I am holding her right?"

"You're doing fine."

Mary shifted the sleeping newborn in her arms and held her breath; Francine was so tiny, fragile, and wrinkled than she would have thought possible. Even thought she loved holding her, it was nerve wracking. She stiffly eased herself further back into the overstuffed chair that sat next to the crib in the nursery. The entire room had been painted robin egg's blue with a poster of constellations hanging over the crib.

"So that she could always reach for the stars," Edith explained as she rolled her eyes. "Clearly the whole room was Paul's idea. He was so eager for a son." She gave a great yawn and rolled her shoulders. Mary could see she was tired.

"My momma told me I should give you and the baby time to rest. Do you want me to go? I could go-"

"I'd never ask you to leave my home, you know that."

"But shouldn't you be sitting? You're probably much more tired than I am—"

"Mary." Edith gave a warm smile, which Mary returned. She instantly relaxed her hold and raised a hand to the baby's cheek. "Francine," she cooed, "That's such a pretty name."

"I hope she thinks so."

Someone in the room softly snapped their fingers. Mary looked up to find Paul standing near the door, with his new Brownie camera in hand. "Hi, Mary."

Edith noticed the camera immediately. "Oh, Paul, why don't you take a picture of the girls?"

Paul shrugged and looked around the dim nursery. "It's supposed to be used outside only, but there's no harm in trying."

Edith rushed over to the windows and pulled the curtains open to let sunlight into the room. Paul smiled and kissed his wife on the cheek before walking to the center of the room, hiking up his pants, and crouching in front of the girls.

"Smile, ladies," Paul instructed. He pushed the lever until the click resonated through the room.

###

July 27th, 1921

She wasn't in Biloxi anymore, that much she was certain of.

Mary let out several shaky breaths and watched them come out in smoky-gray puffs that spiraled toward the corn field she was facing.

"Momma?"

It was dark and freezing cold. She was in her thin nightgown, though she had no recollection of putting it on. She had no recollection of how she got there at all, wherever there was. Her feet were bare, and the pebbled soil felt icy beneath her skin. As she bounced back and forth to keep warm, she realized the crunching of the earth underneath was the only sound she heard. There were no seagulls or insects, no taste of the ocean in the air. She turned around and saw there was a vast nothing behind her; a darkness that crept closer as if wishing to swallow her whole.

She whipped back toward the corn field and ran in blindly, holding her arms out to clear her path. "Hello?" she called out. "Anyone?"

She tripped over her feet and hit the ground, her knees first, then her forehead. She lay dazed for a moment before curling up on the dry ground and folding her arms around her knees. "Please," she whimpered, "Is anyone there?"

There was a rustling far away that crept closer until it was near her feet. She perched her upper body up and looked out between the stalks; there, she saw red eyes open and shift in and out of focus, like flames rising up from the darkness.

"Someone help me," she whispered, as she closed her eyes and let it overcome her.

When Mary came to, she was already standing. A pile of corn was on display in front of her; the hand painted sign stating "10 for $.30." Her body felt numb, all the way to her toes . She glanced down and wiggled them slowly, eventually kicking away the few ears that had spilled onto the floor at her feet. She heard a soft moan and looked to her right. Her mother was kneeling on the floor, eyes wide and searching her daughter's face.

"Mary Alice, for Heaven's sake," she begged.

Mary blinked several times and ran her tongue over her dry lips. She remembered now; she had accompanied her mother to the market to buy tomatoes for dinner. And then the cornfield just came…She turned around and noticed a small group of shoppers standing behind them, whispering back and forth. She recognized them all; Missy was front and center, hands clasped in front of her face and her mouth trembling with prayer.

"Momma?"

Marianne sighed with relief and leaned back on her heels. She forced a smile to the crowd and stood up, shaking the threads of corn husk from her skirt.

"Why is everyone staring at us?" Mary whispered.

Marianne exhaled forcibly and waved the crowd away. "She's fine, everyone. This girl's got her head in the clouds is all." She waited until the crowd dispersed before she turned back to Mary and narrowed her eyes. "Where were you?"

Mary bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. "You were with me. I was right here."

"No, you weren't."

"But…"

"Never mind."

On the way home, Mary sniffled and roughly wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn't handle the way her mother stopped every few steps, looking back at her as if she'd never seen her before.

###

A week later, Dr. Sumner Abbott arrived at the Brandon home. He knocked twice, and then adjusted his wrist cuffs. He was smirking; there were no fewer than four neighbors peeking from their windows or craning their necks from their porches. When he waved at someone, everyone shrunk back, and there was a harmony of doors closing and curtains swishing back into place.

This is certainly interesting, he thought. There must be a scandal.

He hadn't noticed the door open when Marianne grabbed his forearm and pulled him into the house without a word. Once inside, she simply stood there, staring, mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

"Mrs. Brandon?"

"Yes?" She seemed surprised he could speak.

"You asked me to come out today…" Dr. Abbott prodded.

"Yes. It's the only day Jimmy is working late." Another silence followed.

"Jimmy? Is that your husband?"

Marianne nodded and swallowed thickly. "We haven't seen a doctor since Dr. Miller retired. I'm afraid we're desperately in need of your services." Suddenly remembering her manners, she gestured for Dr. Abbott to follow her into the sitting room. Once they were settled, Marianne cleared her throat and continued. "I've asked you here to see to my daughter, Mary."

"What symptoms has she been experiencing?"

"She's been…hm…she's been daydreaming."

The doctor let out a chuckle and straightened his spectacles. "That's hardly cause for concern. How old is she?"

"She will be ten this October."

"Mrs. Brandon, she's a young girl. Daydreaming, while it may seem strange to observe, is quite normal."

"No," Marianne argued. "This is not normal. I never daydreamed like this." Marianne slid to the edge of her seat. "It's almost as if Mary completely disappears into that head of hers. You can budge her, shake her, holler her name, but she doesn't hear or feel." Marianne poured the doctor a cup of tea, and then tried sipping her own. After spilling some down her blouse and then burning her tongue, she slammed the saucer on the coffee table.

Dr. Abbott raised his eyebrows and crossed his legs. "This has you upset."

"I'm not a foolish mother seeing problems where there aren't any. What is happening to my daughter is not normal."

"Why don't you tell me about the last incident?"

"It was last Thursday. We were at the market, picking up some things I for dinner. She stopped in front of the corn so suddenly, I almost tripped over her-she's a very small thing for her age. I thought she wanted some corn for supper. She doesn't like a lot of vegetables, you know, but corn she likes quite a bit." Marianne grabbed a napkin and began twisting it in her hands. "She didn't want corn. For some reason, and I don't know why, she stopped and stared at that display for ten minutes. Ten minutes, Doctor. She didn't even blink. I tried everything to get her to respond but nothing I did worked. Oh, everyone saw, Dr. Abbott."

"Did she say anything during the episode?"

"Not a thing. Toward the end, she reached out and knocked some of the vegetables down. When she awoke, she hadn't the slightest idea that anything out of the ordinary had happened."

Dr. Abbott had pulled out a notepad sometime during the story, and was scribbling furiously. He stopped briefly to pull at his mustache and purse his lips. "Has she ever had these daydreams before?"

"It's been over a year since I noticed the first funny one. Sometimes she says the most peculiar things…" Marianne drifted off before Dr. Abbott cleared his throat. "I ignored it for a very long time."

"Does she have any illnesses, ailments, abnormalities?"

"She had the rickets."

There was a beat of silence and the soft shuffling of papers. "Is there a history of seizures on the father's side?"

"Seizures?" Marianne cleared her throat. "Not that I know of."

"How about on your side of the family?"

Marianne paused, her tongue resting behind her upper teeth. She had been ready to say "no" when she realized something that had long slipped her mind; she wasn't Mary's mother. She had cared for her as if she was her own, but it was Edith's history that coursed through Mary's veins; a history Marianne had no knowledge of. "I should have asked."

"Pardon?"

Marianne realized the young doctor was staring at her, pen poised above paper.

"I should have asked my mother, I mean." She wiped absentmindedly at her neck and tried to control the quiver in her chin. "I'm sorry, Dr. Abbott. I'm not really sure."

"Mrs. Brandon, why did you request me as your doctor?"

"I told you, Dr. Miller—"

"—Retired, yes. But he named a successor to his practice. Why not Dr. Locke?"

Marianne was now folding and unfolding the napkin repeatedly. "I heard you had more experience with illnesses of the head. That's what this is, isn't it?"

Dr. Abbott gave a slight nod and scribbled something down on his pad. "Where's Mary now?"

"Upstairs, in her bedroom. Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to speak to her."

From the moment Mary entered the sitting room, she knew she wouldn't like Dr. Abbott. He smelled of cough syrup and his short hair looked greasy. His suit was horribly tailored and ill-fitting, with nothing extraordinary about it at all. When she took his outreached hand, his touch lingered a bit too long, and he appraised the white summer gown she was wearing a bit too closely. Mary pulled her hand away and gave it a quick shake, wishing she could run upstairs and wash the feeling of his fingers off.

"Good afternoon, Miss Mary. My name is Dr. Abbott."

"Hello, Doctor."

"Your mother tells me you've been under the weather lately."

Does he twirl that ridiculous mustache at the end of each sentence? "I've been feeling just fine."

"Is that right? Why don't you sit down and tell me about yourself?" Twirl.

"If my mother says it's okay."

Marianne nodded. "I'll go into the kitchen so the doctor can speak to you privately. Feel free to speak freely with him."

Mary fought back a sinking feeling as she watched her mother leave the room. The doctor pulled his large tan bag onto the coffee table and pulled out a stethoscope. He placed the black tips into his ears and blew softly into the round end. "Have you ever seen one of these before?"

Mary nodded, and stayed absolutely still as he listened to her heartbeat and lungs under the fabric of her dress. She watched Dr. Abbott's hands wearily; his touch made her uncomfortable. She tried to keep her breath from catching, and was sure her heartbeat was much too fast.

After prodding her twisted knees and making her stick out her tongue, Dr. Abbott put his tools back into his bag and took a seat again.

"Your mother tells me you like to daydream."

"Sometimes."

"What do you dream about?"

"Lots of things."

"Such as?"

"School. Having a dog." Mary bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out of nervousness.

"Do you find something humorous?"

"No."

Dr. Abbott reached out to grasp Mary's chin. "It's not polite to keep jokes from company."

There it was; the nothingness in the cornfield was tucked inside the cuffs of Dr. Abbott's shirt. Mary sucked in a shallow breath and stared intently at the scratched, gold-plated cuff-links that adorned his wrists. "Can you please not touch me, doctor?" Her voice trembled.

"Mary?"

She set her lips in a tight line and didn't answer, wishing that he'd let her go. After a few moments, he moved his hand and reached for something in his pocket. He handed her a cherry lollipop; she pushed it under the seat cushions while he was preoccupied with writing in his notepad. Dr. Abbott began muttering to himself, stopping only to stare at her. His eyes were pleading, manic, excited.

"What did you see?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You saw something, just now when I touched your face. What did you see?"

Mary's throat was suddenly parched. She licked the space between her lips and front teeth. "I saw your hand."

Dr. Abbott peeked at her over his glasses and set the notebook on his lap. "Just my hand?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever see spots or bright colors?"

"Only if my dress has such a pattern." This time, Mary bit the inside of her lip to refrain from being rude.

Dr. Abbott closed his notebook with a sigh, and placed it into his pocket. "You can leave now, Mary. Please ask your mother to come back into the room alone."

By the time Marianne made it back, the doctor was already standing, hat and jacket in hand.

"Are you leaving already?" Her voice had an edge of hysteria to it. She flapped her hands nervously before tucking them into her apron pockets. "Didn't you find anything wrong?"

Dr. Abbott clucked his tongue and handed her a sheet of paper. "You daughter is suffering from petit mals."

The statement was so deceivingly simple, Marianne wasn't sure it was a diagnosis at all. She pressed a hand to her throat and struggled to find a reply. "What does that mean?"

"Your daughter, Mrs. Brandon, has been having petit mal seizures. It's a form of epilepsy, without any sort of jerking or thrashing. They last for only a few moments, most less than a minute. She had one while I was speaking to her." He paused to twirl his mustache again. "Either way, Mary is simply in her own world for a moment. When she comes back, and she will, she won't even notice she had missed a thing."

"But at the market…"

"That was a rare occurrence. Most won't last nearly as long." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Will she…I mean, is she…" Marianne sunk into the nearest seat and began fanning herself furiously. "Doctor, what should I do?"

"On that sheet are the names and information for two very skilled facilities. They're much better prepared than I am, and I suggest having her treated as an outpatient in either of them. If the seizures get worse, one of those facilities could also take her in long-term."

"Long-term? Could they get that bad?"

"There is always a chance of epilepsy worsening after puberty but in my experience, petit mals rarely do." Dr. Abott studied Marianne's grief-stricken face and sighed. "I treat a boy in Ocean Springs with Jacksonian epilepsy. He experiences violent jerks frequently, and rarely leaves his bedroom due to the horrible fatigue. Can you imagine that, Mrs. Brandon? A child who has to stay in all the time?"

Marianne stood after a moment. "Yes," she deadpanned, "I suppose that would be dreadful."

When Jimmy arrived from work that evening, Marianne had a thick stew simmering on the stove. He followed the scent into the kitchen and lifted the cover to take a big whiff. "Oxtail? In the middle of the week? What a surprise, darling! Should I go get Mary?"

Marianne shook her head and nodded toward his usual seat. "I'd like to speak to you alone first. I had a doctor come by to see Mary."

Jimmy sat and tucked his napkin into his shirt. "Is she alright?"

Marianne retold the story one more time, and cringed when Jimmy slammed his fist down on the table.

"And you didn't think to mention any of this to me beforehand?" he bellowed.

"For Heaven's sake, keep your voice down." They both looked up at the ceiling and waited for the tapping of Mary's feet on the stairs. When none came, they sighed and simultaneously leaned back in their chairs.

"So what did the doctor say?" Jimmy gently pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, while his wife explained the seizures and what they were. "Was he absolutely sure? They could just be daydreams."

"You didn't see this one, Jimmy. It was terrifying. It's like our daughter wasn't there." She pushed a glass of lemonade across the table and waited for him to take a sip. "I trust the doctor."

Jimmy shook his head several times before dropping his shoulders in defeat.

"What did the doctor say we should do?"

Marianne was waiting for this. She took a deep breath, rested her palms on the table, and looked straight into Jimmy's eyes.

"He insisted I have her excused from school and keep her in the house."

Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "No."

"Jimmy-"

"I won't have our daughter miss out on an education. It's against the law, anyway."

"There are plenty of ways to get around those laws and you know it. I can teach her plenty her at home."

"I said no."

Marianne ground her teeth together and exhaled sharply through her nose. She thought for a moment. "The doctor says it'll get worse when she reaches adolescence."

"Your point being?"

"She can continue school for now and only miss days she's not feeling well. If it gets worse as she gets older, I get to keep her home."

"We'll have to wait and see, Marianne." But even as he said this, he gave a nod. It was slight, but it was there all the same.

###

Dr. Abbott visited Mary six more times at Marianne's request. During each visit, she saw the black again; the thick, null void that lingered near his fingertips. Whenever she was in its presence, she stayed perfectly still and pretended they were playing a game; if she didn't move, the darkness couldn't find her.

Jimmy came home for lunch one day, and that is how he found her; sitting on the very edge of the sofa, skin paler than usual, eyes glued to a spot on the ceiling. Her fear, thick and paralyzing, was palpable.

"What the hell is going on here?" he exclaimed.

Dr. Abbott jumped and removed the hearing ends of the stethoscope from his ears. "You must be Mr. Brandon."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and moved to stand in between his daughter and the doctor. "I asked a question."

"I am doing a basic examination." Dr. Abbott held out the end of the stethoscope. "I was checking her heartbeat and breathing as I do at the beginning of every visitation."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and jabbed his finger into the doctor's chest. "You stay right there." Turning around, he lifted Mary into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. He set her down on the table and looked her over quickly. Not noticing a hair out of place, he leaned forward so he could look into her eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing is wrong, daddy."

"Did that doctor do anything…funny to you?"

"No, daddy. Really, he didn't."

"Then why do you look frightened?"

Mary shook her head and focused on the wall behind her father. "He can be scary sometimes."

"How so?"

At this, Mary began to cry. She didn't know why she was crying, only that she felt saddened without reason. For Jimmy, it was all he needed. He straightened up and loosened his tie. "Where in the world is your mother?"

"In the backyard putting the bedclothes to dry."

Jimmy told her to stay exactly where she was and exited the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He walked into the sitting room and didn't spare any words. "I want you to listen closely: Pack up your things and leave this house. God help you if I ever see you anywhere near my daughter again."

Dr. Abbott stuttered before collecting himself. "Sir, I think you are confused-"

Jimmy's fist flew before he gave it any thought. It connected with Dr. Abbott's jaw and sent the smaller man back into the sofa. For a moment, the doctor lay sprawled there, gasping for breath, with his glasses askew on his face. His eyes moved wildly between Jimmy and the door. Sensing he had the chance to flee, he grabbed his bag and flew out the door, leaving it swaying back and forth on its hinges. Marianne had heard the commotion and entered the room just in time to see Dr. Abbott run off.

"Jimmy!" She dropped the linen she was holding and looked torn between going to her husband and chasing after the doctor. Deciding to stay, she closed the front door and turned on her husband. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

Back in the kitchen, Mary winced at her parents' fighting. She hopped off the table and peeked out into the sitting room. Her mother was in the center, one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her face. Her father was next to the small liquor cabinet, pouring himself a small glass of amber liquid.

"This is not up for discussion, Marianne. My word is final."

Mary cleared her throat and stood behind the door so her parents wouldn't see her. "Daddy?" she called, "May I go visit Miss Edith and Francine?"

"No—"

Jimmy cut Marianne off. "Of course. Just return in time for supper."

Marianne gave a strangled cry and Mary quickly closed the door to the dining room. She ran out the back way, through the side yard, and up Edith's front porch with her hands over her ears.

###

October 3rd 1921

"Oh no no no no! Francine!" Mary tugged the paper dress out of the baby's hold. It was wrinkled and ripped and covered in some spots with drool. "Ew." She wrinkled her face and tossed the destroyed garment to the side. "Francine, you have to be delicate with these."

Edith laughed heartily from her seat on the sofa and crossed her ankles. "Babies can't play with paper, Mary. They don't know how to be delicate."

"Well, how can to teach her about the importance of proper attire?"

Edith raised an eyebrow. "What in the world is Marianne teaching you?" she muttered under her breath. "You can teach her those sorts of things when she's older." Edith eyed Mary's pout and decided to change the topic. "So, you're going to be eleven soon. Are you excited?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't think it will feel very different. Thirteen or fourteen seem much more important than eleven."

"But how do you get to thirteen without eleven?"

Mary chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail. "I suppose you don't."

"Then I s'pose eleven is just as important as thirteen. But if you think differently, I can always return your gift." Edith laughed as Mary jumped up and began hopping in place.

"Oh, Miss Edith, may I see it now? Please?"

Edith nodded and, after putting Francine back in her bassinet, returned with a thick yellow envelope. "Here you go."

Mary lifted the flap carefully and shook out the contents onto the coffee table. Once they were all out, she stared at the different magazine pages in awe. So many colors… "You saved all these Lettie Lane pages for me?"

"Yes, and some of the Polly Pratt ones as well. You like your Suzy so much; I thought you would like her to have a friend."

"Oh, Miss Edith…"

Mary couldn't wait to show off her gift. She showed off the pages right before dinner, waving them under her mother's face. "Look what Edith got me for my birthday!"

Marianne held a page closer to examine it. "What are these?"

"Lettie Lane. They're paper dolls that used to come every month in magazines. Edith saved them all for me, momma. Isn't that wonderful? I think it's the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Well, I think it's ridiculous. You're too old for paper dolls." Marianne slid the page back across the table and waved her hand. "Go put those silly things away and wash up for supper."

###

December 12th 1921

Christmas was Mary's favorite holiday. It started the day after Thanksgiving when Jimmy, Mary, and Marianne would go over to Sal's lot next to the DuKate cannery. During the winter Sal brought in Christmas trees, and throughout the season wives would drag their families out to select the very best, while in the background smoke billowed just a few feet away.

Mary sniffed and scrunched up her face. "Won't the tree smell like fish?"

Her parents ignored her as they eyed the trees, Jimmy with weary eyes and Marianne with the sharpness of a perfectionist. She always chose a spruce, "Because it's what we've always had," she mumbled, as she measured a contender for the prime place by the hearth. "This one is too wide," she moaned. After looking at fifteen trees, Marianne finally chose one and arranged for it to be delivered.

While waiting at home, the boxes of ornaments were brought down. "Now be careful. I've had some of these longer than I've had you." Jimmy chuckled and Marianne narrowed her eyes at him. "Either one of you." Mary snickered and elbowed her father, who merely shook his head and reached into one of the boxes. Mary hummed in excitement as each ornament was unwrapped. Most of them she remembered from the year prior, and she took pleasure in recalling her own memories attached. She looked through the boxes one by one until she came across a box that didn't hold ornaments at all.

"Daddy, I think you brought down my old baby stuff." She held out a small blue sweater to her body and laughed. "Where did this come from?"

Marianne's eyes widened. "Oh…" She grabbed the sweater with trembling fingers and turned it this way and that, smoothing the stitches where they had gotten caught. "This, dear, was something I knitted while I was pregnant."

"With me?"

Jimmy cleared his throat and patted his knees. "I don't think we should talk about this."

"She should know about him—"

"No."

"Jimmy—"

"Goddamn it, Marianne."

Mary stilled when she heard her father's rough whisper. She had never heard her father swear before, nor had she ever heard him speak that way to anyone, save Dr. Abbott. Marianne sucked in a deep breath and tucked the folded sweater back into the box. "Never mind. Finish unpacking the ornaments." She stood and left the room.

Mary frowned and looked up at her father from her seat on the floor. "Daddy?" She quickly whipped her head around and closed her eyes. She rummaged through the nearest box blindly until she felt her father stir behind her and heard his footsteps climb the stairs.

She had never seen her father cry before.

###

On Christmas Day, Mary woke up early. Drats, she thought, as she looked out her window at the black sky. Too early. She threw herself back on the mattress and held onto her bed sheets tightly, counting sheep until she reached three hundred. Then she tried singing down bottles of beer until she had none. Just as she was about to sing about having a lamb, her door opened.

"We can hear you, you know."

Mary blushed and ducked under her covers. "Sorry, Momma." She heard Marianne sigh and tap her foot.

"Well, since your father and I are up anyway…"

Mary bolted out of her room before her mother could change her mind. She took the steps two-by-two ignoring, the admonishment from Marianne. Her father, meanwhile, was already in the sitting room, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy!"

This was the first Christmas Mary had been a giver as well as a receiver. She squealed and squirmed in her chair as her parents opened their gift from her, a frame with a picture of Mary inside.

"Mr. DeWitt took the picture and Edith helped me with the frame."

"Thank you, darling, we love it!"

Jimmy had gotten his wife a pair of earrings and Marianne had gotten him a tie and socks. Mary pretended to be interested, but she kept glancing over at the wrapped box that was still waiting under the tree. Surely, that one is for me!

Jimmy grabbed the last box and frowned at the tag. "I think this box is for Santa." Mary raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look.

"Daddy, it's from Santa to me!" Mary ripped the paper off eagerly and lifted the cover off the cardboard box underneath. Inside the box was a doll, an Effanbee, with a frilly yellow dress and brown curls. Mary lifted her carefully out of the box and glanced over at her parents.

"It's a doll," she stated dumbly. She turned her over every which way and cocked her head. She couldn't imagine playing with this doll more than with her Suzy or Lettie paper ones. Hadn't her mother said she was too old for dolls anyway?

"Her name is Mary Jane, but you can change that."

Mary was so entranced, she didn't realize Marianne had crouched in front of the tree and was pulling yet another box out from underneath.

"This goes with the doll, I believe. Santa left me a note saying so."

Mary opened this box more slowly. She peeled back layers of tissue paper, until she realized that's not what she was touching.

"Momma?" Her voice hitched. Inside the box were several yards of scrap fabric and trimming. As she moved her hands between the neat squares, her fingers made contact with a small bag.

"Those are buttons," Marianne chirped. "I think it's time you learned to properly sew."

"You're going to teach me?"

"That's what Mary Jane is for. I learned to hem my father's pants but I thought you would like to jump right into making doll dresses."

"Oh, Mom…" Mary rubbed her thumb and forefinger on one of the fabrics and closed her eyes. She grinned, then jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around her mother's waist.

###

March 13th, 1925

Everyone was surprised when bedwettin' Beth Liddell was the first to grow breasts. When the children stumbled out of their winter hibernation in their spring skin, the mousy brunette was changed. Her mother tried in vain to hide the changes with frills and fabric, but it was impossible; her shirts strained against her chest and, because she was an inch taller, her skirts now showed the slightest hint of calf. The truth was impossible to deny:

In the last days of winter of 1925, Beth Liddell had become a woman.

All the other girls began to follow suit and began to speak of bust sizes and stuffing rags in their knickers. Mary nodded as if she understood, but her chest had barely begun to grow and she hadn't gotten any signs of her period at all. To her, nothing had changed at all…until the afternoon she noticed the new and improved William Reed playing softball. He had grown three inches seemingly overnight, and his lanky frame held hidden sinew and strength. He had filled out his clothing, and Mary parted her lips when she noticed the cloth strain against his shoulders. When he threw the softball at another boy, Mary let out a small gasp and then covered her face in embarrassment. She peeked between her fingers after a moment, and saw William was looking right at her.

Oh no. She forced a wave and he broke out into a smile.

After signaling the team to take a break, he wandered over and stood at the stoop of her front porch. "Hello, Mary Alice." His toothy grin still held its childlike charm.

She squeaked out a greeting and gestured for him to sit beside her. They made small talk of school and their friends before she felt his fingertips brush against her knuckles. She took in a staggered breath and mustered up the courage to discretely caress the inside of his wrist. He smelled like her father's shaving cream and, as she peered closer, she could see tell-tale nicks on his chin.

"Your collar needs mending," she whispered. She pointed to the fraying seam. "You could-if your mother is too busy, I mean- you could drop it off and I can mend it for you."

William grinned and leaned forward. "I'd appreciate that, Mary."

"You know, William—"

"The game's starting, Willy!"

Damn you, Mickey. Mary frowned at the kid waving William back into the game.

"I guess they need me back." William stood and tapped his fingers nervously against the railing. He walked away a few feet then abruptly turned around. "I'd like to see more of you."

"Oh." Mary blushed and tried to hide her massive grin. "That sounds like a reasonable request."

"How about you and I go down to the docks tomorrow? We could grab some shaved ice from Lou's. Sally and Beth can come, of course. Perhaps Mickey and Christopher as well?"

"I…I'll ask my mother if that's alright."

"Then I will call on you tomorrow afternoon."

William ran back to finish his softball game. During the last inning, he tapped his bat on the tar and smiled back at Mary. "This next home run's for Mary Alice," he exclaimed, loud enough for her to hear. He swung his bat and, with an earsplitting crack, hit the ball clear over the Thomas' house and out of sight.

###

She knew without a doubt it was the same cornfield she had been in years before.

Mary was wearing the nightgown she had worn to bed that evening, and her feet were once again bare. This time she didn't bother turning around; she knew the void was inching toward her. She walked slowly into the field, trying to keep the panic from rising into her throat and escalating to a scream. She hadn't been paying attention when her big toe hit something warm and firm . She jumped back in shock. "What in the world?"

At her feet was a young man. He looked right at home on the ground, legs crossed lazily and hands clasped behind his head. He appeared asleep, maybe dead, until he opened one eye, one red eye, to see who roused him from his nap.

"You're still here?" Mary asked in amazement. Suddenly remembering she should be frightened, she backed up further and sank into the rows of corn, letting the stalks settle into place and hide her. She watched as the man uncrossed his arms and sat up. He wiped his hands on his trousers and looked around, fixing his gaze to where Mary was hiding.

"I'm terribly sorry if I startled you, ma'am."

"It's quite alright," Mary whispered. She didn't move out from the row, and, after a while, the man stood and walked away until he was out of her sight.

Mary awoke to a sharp pain in her abdomen. She gave an unintelligible cry and rolled over, bringing her legs up into a fetal position. "Momma!" she cried. It felt like someone was squeezing her from the inside out. She tried to remember what she had eaten but it was all her mother's cooking. No one else has gotten sick, have they? She gasped for air and stayed perfectly still for a few moments until the pain begin to dissipate. She felt the need to use the bathroom but as she pulled off her bed covers, her fingers met wetness. "Momma!" she yelled again. "I think I had an accident."

She sat in the darkness until Marianne rushed in and turned on the lights. "What happened? Oh, Mary."

With the lights on, Mary realized she hadn't wet the bed at all; the sheets were stained a reddish brown. She scrambled off the bed and looked down at her nightgown.

"Oh, look!" she cried happily. "Mom, I've finally-" Mary's smile fell as she looked at her mother's face.

Marianne was leaning heavily against the door, looking positively horrified.

History (and other) Lessons:

Lettie Lane was a paper doll published in Good Housekeeping and other magazines up until 1915. Each issue featured sheets of clothing and friends you could cut out. Some people still collect these.

Effanbee was a doll manufacturer. Their Mary Jane was a very popular 18" doll with removable dress.

I know it can be hard to follow the ages: By the end of this chapter Mary is fourteen and William is fifteen. The rest of the regulars (Sally, Beth, Christopher, Mickey, etc) are also around these ages.

In the next chapter we will see more relationships develop. Reviewers get a teaser and a bowl of oxtail stew.