The Letter. Elizabeth Blackwell

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СКАЧАТЬ both their daughters to go on to higher education, even if—as in Mother’s case—it was only seen as an opportunity to meet eligible, ambitious young men. College meant a ticket out of Knox Junction. But as the time to submit applications came closer, Lydia became paralyzed with indecision.

      Mother took charge, in her usual way, writing to request applications from Wellesley and Smith. Meanwhile, Henry had his own assumption about where Lydia would go, as he casually revealed one day at school.

      They were sitting in their regular spot in the high school cafeteria, the same place they always sat and ate their bag lunches, in a corner near the window overlooking the football field. Sometimes classmates would join them, but more often they ate alone, their close connection blocking others out.

      “How did your parents take it?” Lydia asked him. Henry had already sent in his paperwork for the agriculture program at the University of Illinois, a huge milestone for him, given that no one else in his family had gone to college.

      Henry shook his head. “Not well. You know how Pop is about the farm.” Lydia didn’t really know, not firsthand. In their years of dating she’d only met Henry’s father a few times and had never been invited to the house. Henry’s home was no doubt smaller and shabbier than hers, but Lydia suspected that wasn’t the reason he kept her away. More likely it was his mother, who had become a recluse in the two years since Timothy’s death.

      “I told him the classes would teach me how to make the farm more efficient,” Henry said, “but he won’t listen.”

      “So what are you going to do?”

      “Go anyway. Pay my own tuition. That’s why I’m sticking with U of I. It won’t cost that much. I can get a job on weekends.”

      Hovering unspoken between them was the knowledge that Lydia’s college choices were not restricted by price. She could go anywhere she wanted.

      “If I can save up enough, I want to get a car,” Henry said. “That way we could drive back and forth together. That would be great, wouldn’t it?”

      “What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

      “When we leave for school, or during Christmas vacation. We could come home together. No more sitting around waiting for the train.”

      He assumed she was going to U of I, too. Of course. He had made the decision for both of them.

      Lydia tried to find words that wouldn’t hurt him. But it wasn’t the right time or place—a crowded cafeteria at lunchtime wasn’t the ideal spot for a heart-to-heart conversation. Besides, she told herself, she hadn’t made up her mind yet. She very well might decide to go to U of I. So she simply reached across the table and put her hand over Henry’s. “I wouldn’t worry about a car just yet,” she said. “The train’s fine by me.”

      Henry blushed, his mouth twisting into a shy smile. They were careful not to show affection in school, always conscious of being watched and gossiped about. To classmates who didn’t know they were dating, they could have been mistaken for brother and sister, so casual were their interactions. This clasping of hands was the first time they’d openly expressed any physical affection at school. The fact that the first move had been Lydia’s made it all the more surprising.

      Away from curious eyes, it was another matter. On those very rare occasions when they found themselves alone—walking down a back road in search of a landscape for Lydia to sketch, or sitting in the deserted school library in the late afternoon—they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Still, they never proceeded further than kissing or holding hands. The ground rules were understood. Lydia was a good girl, Henry was a good boy, and any exploring underneath clothes was strictly off limits.

      But lately they’d been bending the rules. It started off with accidents that weren’t quite accidents—Lydia pulling her lips away from Henry’s and moving them toward the spot where his shirt strained open above his top button. Henry’s hand brushing against the tight fabric of Lydia’s sweater, fleetingly touching her breasts. If they were to be at college together, living under far less supervision, Lydia wondered if these same unspoken boundaries would hold. Would they be tempted to go further? Because when she was pressed up against Henry, kissing him in a shadowy corner of a high school hallway, she wanted to go further. And she was frightened of what would happen if she got the chance.

      

      “I put the Wellesley information on your bed,” Mother said at dinner that night.

      “All right.” Lydia was less than enthusiastic.

      “Have you been reading the brochures? Chosen a favorite?”

      Lydia shook her head. “I’m still thinking.” Then, looking straight at her parents to gauge their reaction, she added, “It would cost a lot less money if I went to the University of Illinois.”

      Mother’s fingers gripped her fork tightly. “I didn’t know you were considering it.”

      “They say it’s a fine school,” Father said.

      Mother kept her eyes focused on her plate. “Is that where Henry will be going?”

      “I think so,” Lydia said.

      A silence settled over the table. The only sound was of forks and knives gently clinking against the china plates. Mother wouldn’t look at Lydia.

      “Of course, I’d hate to see you waste your potential,” Mother said. “A girl like you, who could go anywhere.”

      “Shouldn’t you go the same place as Henry?” Nell put in from across the table. “You are getting married, right?”

      Lydia shot her younger sister a furious glare. That was typical of Nell, drawing attention to herself by making a dramatic pronouncement.

      Mother’s head snapped around toward Lydia. “What?” she demanded. “Have you and Henry—”

      “No, Mother,” Lydia interrupted. “Of course not.”

      “I hope you won’t waste your future because of a youthful…understanding,” Mother said. “No matter how fine a young man Henry may be.”

      “I do think eighteen is rather young to consider marriage.” Father flashed Lydia a sympathetic smile.

      Lydia dropped her utensils onto her plate. “I’m not getting married,” she said firmly, trying to keep her voice level. “So don’t worry.” Then, giving Nell one last angry scowl, she rose from the table and strode out the doorway, stamping her feet as she fled upstairs to her room. She blinked hard to keep back the tears. The people she loved most in the world were pushing her in opposite directions, causing her almost physical pain. Her real dream for the future seemed so unlikely and impractical that she was embarrassed to share it with them. Her parents would find it laughable, and Henry would be devastated at the thought of her leaving. If she couldn’t count on the support of her family or Henry, she must truly be alone.

      

      It had begun with a story in Life magazine, a photo essay about the G.I. bill that showed former soldiers going to colleges across the country. Amid the pictures of grinning young men playing baseball and posing with their fraternity rings, one in particular caught her eye:

      Former lieutenant СКАЧАТЬ