Twins' Double Victory. Karen Jones
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walking again. I’m just thankful it happened before closing time. A couple of the guys from work carried me to the doctor, and they brought me home along with the car.”
Soon afterward, Mother was complaining about having to do Dad’s work and hers, too. To get away from her nagging, Dad bought a used fishing boat. He named it the Loralee and moved into it soon after.
As the days passed, Emily and I were making friends at school and striving to get praise from Miss Forester rather than from our parents, who were avoiding each other.
On the weekend before Thanksgiving, Mother asked Dad to take us to live with him. My sister and I stuffed clothes, books, and our twin dolls into our pillowcases. When we spotted Dad’s boat from the living room window, I yelled to Mother, “Dad’s here,” before we ran to the dock to meet him.
After a fun day with our father, we awoke the next morning smelling sausage and biscuits. “Eat up so we can go fishing,” Dad said, when we sat at the table.
Once the dishes were washed, Dad steered the Loralee to his favorite spot and threw out the anchor. “Girls, it’s time I teach you how to fish, but I’ll have to do it with my leg propped up. I’ll be glad to get this cast off in a few days—my leg’s itching something fierce.”
“Yucky,” Emily commented, after looking at the slimy worms trying to crawl out of the can.
“Watch me,” said Dad, threading the wiggly worm up the hook.
“I think I can do that,” I said, hoping I really could to make Daddy proud of me.
Several times, Sis and I took turns threading the worms and casting Dad’s fishing line as far out into the water as possible. But every time we felt a tug on our line and yanked the fishing pole toward us, we only saw an empty hook.
“Stay here while I take the rowboat out and try to locate more fish,” Dad said, as he lowered the boat into the water.
About thirty minutes later, Dad returned in the rowboat and yelled for me to catch the rope. As I stepped forward, I slipped on the oily mast lying inside the fishing boat and fell overboard.
I was flailing my arms to keep from drowning when Dad spotted my red corduroy dress and dove into the water. He caught me by my long hair and managed to pull me up onto the deck of the fishing boat while I was coughing and choking.
As soon as Dad turned me over on my side, water came out of my mouth, and I could breathe easier. Dad covered me with a warm blanket and quickly steered the boat back to our house. When we reached the dock, he said, “Emily, stay here with your sister while I get your mother.”
The moment I sat up, my sister’s arms were clasped around me in a big bear hug. “I was so scared when I thought you were going to die,” Emily said.
A few minutes later, Mother rushed up to me. “Daddy told me that you slipped on the mast,” she said. “You need to watch where you’re stepping, Emma—you might have drowned.” Then reaching her arms around me and squeezing tight, she said, “I couldn’t stand losing my sweet little girl.” Glaring up at Dad hobbling toward her in his wet cast, she scolded, “I left my girls with you, and look what happened!”
Dad moved back home, but he and Mother didn’t get along very well. When Dad’s second cast was removed following Thanksgiving, he returned to work at the logging camp, still limping.
A few days before Christmas, Mother grabbed Dad’s ax and said to Emily and me. “Girls, let’s go find a Christmas tree at least as tall as me.”
“How tall are you, Mother?” I asked, after we entered a patch of fir trees.
“About five feet, eight inches,” she answered, walking up to a tree a little higher than her head.
After a few chops, Mother picked up one end of the tree, and my sister and I grabbed the other end. When we carried the fir tree inside the house, Mother ignored Dad, who said, “I wish I could help you set it up and hang the decorations, but my bad leg is throbbing again.”
On Christmas morning, a strong wind blew rain against our house, waking Emily and me. We ran into the living room to warm ourselves by the wood-burning stove. What joy we felt as we tore open our packages and found matching blue dresses that Mother had sewn! After putting them on, we posed in front of our colorful tree, and Dad took our picture.
A week after Christmas, our father said, “Eliza, I’m going to Alaska to do some fishing. This isn’t the best time of the year to catch salmon, but I’m hoping to get lucky so I can pick up some extra cash.”
“I wonder what that’s all about,” Mother said to Emily and me while we were playing with our dolls in the living room.
A month later, Dad returned from a trip to town carrying a bouquet of flowers for Mother. Showing his pearly teeth, he said, “Eliza, with the money I made on my fishing trip and a bank loan, I bought a prime piece of property sixteen miles from here in Arletta. There’s enough cash to build us a home. Three guys from work have promised to help, and I’m hoping to have the house built by Easter.”
“I’ve always loved Arletta,” Mother declared, after she smelled the purple and yellow pansies. “But as I’ve told you in the past, I’d like to be consulted before you up and make big decisions and move the family, especially before our girls have finished out the school year.”
“You’ll love it in Arletta,” Dad assured her, giving Mother a kiss on her cheek.
The next day at school, Emily and I approached our teacher as soon as we entered the classroom. “My daddy’s building a house in Arletta, and we’re going to move there,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Miss Forester. “Before you leave, I’d like to give you both a storybook I read to my nieces when they were your age.”
When Emily pressed her lips together and smiled, I asked, “Is it a true story?”
Miss Forester grinned. “You and Emily will have to find out for yourselves.”
On each day that followed, Emily and I were eager to go to school to be with our teacher. On our last day in her class, Miss Forester said, “I think you’ll love Arletta as much as I did while growing up there. Have a happy Easter in your new home,” she said, handing us the storybook.
As soon as Sis and I entered the house, we ran to the kitchen to drop off our lunch pails before rushing outside.
While lying on the grass under the cloudy sky, we held our new book in front of our eyes. We took turns reading the story about a happy rabbit who loved gathering dandelions and singing at the top of his lungs. My heart was filled with contentment as I lived in the rabbit’s imaginary world.
Chapter 3
PARADISE LOST
Before Easter, my family moved to Arletta into our beachfront house. In the cool of the evening, Sis and I followed Mother onto the front porch, where she lowered her tired body into her favorite wooden rocker.
When Dad joined us, he said, “I heard the city of Arletta was named after an old sunken ship that went down in the water near here.” Looking at my sister and me, he added, “Someday, I might learn to dive way down deep and see if I can find some sunken treasure.”
Leaving her chair, Mother exclaimed, “It feels like we’re living in paradise. Just look at the magnificent view we have of Mt. Rainier and an island across the water!”
“That long island is where I’ll be working, cutting down trees,” Dad pointed out. “It’s close enough for you to hear me talking across the water.” Looking into Mother’s eyes, he sighed and said, “I knew you’d love it here, Eliza. That’s why I built this house for you.”
“Oh, Henry, you do make me blush sometimes. Girls,