From the Relief Society Magazine, February 1951 –

“In the Twinkling of a Toe”

By Maryhale Woolsey

The sun was climbing up the brilliant sky and growing warmer by the minute. Madge Riley leaned on her garden rake and wished Janice Dowson would say what she had come over to say. Madge had so much to do today – grape jelly and jam to make, and pears to can; already they were over-ripe.

She eyed Janice again with the incredulousness she always felt for Janice’s plumpness. It made Madge overconscious of her own still slender figure, and her energy, though she was past fifty-seven, and her hair was graying. Janice’s was, too; but Janice retained an endless joy in living, whereas Madge had long since lost all will for anything but work.

Of course, Janice had her jolly big family – married sons and daughters and adorable grandchildren. Madge had only her one granddaughter, Colleen – who had never seemed close to her. Colleen had been a care, really!

“I hope you’re going to the harvest ball tonight Madge,” Janice was urging suddenly. “I hear it’ll be quite a celebration.”

Madge stiffened. This was it! “Oh?” she questioned.

“Yes. Those kids have really accomplished things. Brenda – my Jerry’s wife, you know – has been advising them a little. I’d be going myself, except that it’s my teaching night. I may come later, anyway.”

“I never go anyplace like that, Janice. You know that. I don’t know why I should. Colleen has told me almost nothing about it – except that Hap Franklin’s so wonderful to let them use the company auditorium, and that the harvest ball really should have been held before school started. I don’t even know what the girls have been doing, except working a lot harder at their projects than they’re willing to work at …” She stopped abruptly. Did she know what any girls, other than Colleen, did at home> And even Colleen does what I’ve asked her to. It’s her always hurrying to get away, as if home’s hateful, that hurts!

“But you really should be there tonight. It’s not right that Colleen should be without anyone of her own to take an interest in what she’s done … Please, don’t be hurt, Madge. I know how it’s been for you; you’ve had my sympathy, and other folks’. But Colleen needs you – in ways she hasn’t had you. Oh, my phone’s ringing. Might be Jim calling from Woodside – he was going to!” Away Janice ran, awkwardly as a puppy, and as happily.

Madge resumed her leaf raking. She worked rapidly; she’d have to hurry things a little … Surprisingly, she felt no negation in her. Not, “Shall I go?” Simply, “I’ll have to hurry!” Perhaps it was because Janice had made her see it as a duty.

Even her intense dislike of crowds – amounting to a phobia these recent years – seemed now a minor consideration. Over her work, Madge found her mind exploring unaccustomed paths. What had been behind Janice’s resolute admonition? Her hesitancy might infer something disagreeable; Colleen’s wilfulness, her uncommunicativeness, her eagerness to be anywhere but at home— all these had indicated to Madge that Colleen was a “problem.” She had been an ordeal from the beginning, her very presence a continual reminder of their bereavements, too many and near together, and too shocking not to have induced serious reaction. First, Madge’s husband had died, then her son Gilbert had been killed in the war, and last, his young wife had been killed in an automobile accident— all within the space of a year. And Madge had been far from well, herself. No wonder she and Colleen had got off to a bad start, the sick and grief-stricken grandmother and the bewildered, frightened child! But Madge had regained health and strength; Colleen had adjusted. What was the distance between them which could not be bridged?

Colleen, fourteen now, was older than her years, with an air of knowingness and self-sufficiency which could easily have led her into difficulties. Still, in that case Madge surely would have heard; there would have been someone who would feel it a duty to inform her!

Madge prepared dinner early and let it wait while she dressed, putting on a becoming full-skirted print dress she had bought a year ago but had never worn. Colleen, dashing in to bathe, eat, dress and “take off again,” regarded her with surprised and wordless questioning.

“I’m coming to your ball. I hear it’s too good to miss,” Madge said quietly.

“Why-that’s fine!” Was there a flash of consternation, turning to defiance, behind the widening brown eyes, an unsteadiness in the red lips, so quickly pressed into a firm set line? Madge half smiled, noticing all at once how like her own firm jaw was the line of Colleen’s!

She went on talking matter-of-factly, “I guess your club has been a good thing for you. For all of you girls, I mean.”

“Of course it has. We’d have hated this long, hot summer if we hadn’t had our projects to keep us busy. We’re going to have it next summer, too, we think.” There was a vehemence in Colleen’s tone, and a guardedness. She determinedly picked up her fork and began to eat. “Oh, I have to go early, Grandmother. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to change any arrangements because I decided at the last minute to come.”

“Okay, then . . . thanks.” Uncertainly, Colleen bent her face over her glass of water. A small frown wrinkled her smooth forehead.

The meal continued in its customary silence, but with an undercurrent of tension. Having finished, Colleen hurried to her room to dress. Madge was hanging up her dish towel when Colleen reappeared in the kitchen. “I’m taking off,” she said. And hesitantly added, “Grandmother, did you know I’m singing on our program?”

“Why, no! Didn’t you want me to know?”

“I sort of wanted to tell you . . . but it might have seemed like I was— well— trying to get you to— to ” Confused, Colleen stopped.

Madge spoke gently, ‘To come, especially to applaud you? It could have seemed that way, all right. Don’t let it bother you.”

The frown disappeared. “Okay, then ”

“You look very pretty,” Madge called hurriedly. From the front door Colleen looked back, a picture-book gypsy. Her dark hair lay like a smooth satin cap. She wore a yellow-flowered, short-sleeved blouse of yellow cotton drawn up around the shoulders with a black ribbon, and a full skirt, black with colorful daisies and tulips bordering it. She could be going to a costume party, Madge thought, as she watched Colleen hurrying down the path.

Madge brought out her coat and purse, and went out to sit awhile in the old rocking chair on the porch. In the west a faint rosy glow lingered from the sunset. Madge felt a nostalgia for sunsets of old days when broad green fields had stretched away to the hills; acres and acres of them had belonged to Mart and Madge Riley. Madge had sold them, piece by piece, reluctantly but profitably, seeing only folly in holding land she could not successfully employ. Her son had wanted only to be a flier; flying had taken him away— eventually, not to return. In the postwar building period Madge had continued selling, keeping for herself only an acre, with her house— old and shabby now among the smart, modern homes rising around it. The Dowson’s place was nearest. The road was hard-surfaced and had attained a name, Broadview. Along it at nights lights glowed and twinkled on and off; voices and music and traffic noises replaced former silences, and Madge learned deeper loneliness than ever. Colleen, presumably, found satisfactions else- where, as she was always “taking off.”

Madge stood up, drawing a long unsteady breath. She tested the lock of the door, and started down the path. Walking was pleasant; the staccato tap-tap of her heels on the sidewalk had a good sound.

She arrived early, as anticipated; only a few seats were occupied by young people she did not know. She took a place near the front, and avoided looking back at the gathering crowd. For the first time, she felt a resentment at her continued aversion to social contacts; she wondered if she ever would overcome it. She was relieved when finally the lights dimmed and the stage curtains opened.

It was a good program, she thought, watching skits, stunts, and tap dancing. Hearing Colleen sing a couple of popular songs in the crooning, throaty modern style, was a surprise, but not too exciting, she decided …. Or could it be she couldn’t appreciate it, she wondered as she left, lingering behind the crowd.

Janice Dowson met her at the auditorium door. “I saw you and waited, thought we’d like seeing the exhibits together.”

They made the rounds of a miniature fair, viewing displays of handwork, paintings, wood carvings. Madge looked in each space for Colleen’s name, finding it at the very last table with what at first seemed to be a doll’s house. Then she saw that it was, instead, a home decoration project, with a cardboard house as a model, and sketches accompanying it. Madge caught her breath then, for the house washer own! With a few alterations: a widened window, the fireplace reopened and restored, the “front room” and dining room made into one large lovely space by removal of the dividing wall. The “Before” sketches were flawless. Madge groaned inwardly. Did her house really look so unattractive, so uninviting?

Janice, beside her, said softly, “You may as well look now, Madge. You’ve got a gifted girl on your hands.”

“It’s my house,” Madge’s voice was flat. “She seems to have looked at it more than I ever thought she did.”

“No drastic changes,” Janice murmured. “Mostly, she’s done a bringing alive of it … . What a sense for color!” Janice’s tone spoke only honest admiration for Colleen’s work.

Madge was silent, trying to fathom Janice’s deep thoughts and her own strange emotion.

When Janice was saying, “Shall we go in? They’ve cleared the floor for square dancing. It’ll be fun to watch.”

It began as special exhibition dances, but, presently, the urge to participate took over the audience and soon the whole scene was one bright kaleidoscope of colorful animation and gayety. Madge found her own feet tapping in time with the music, old tunes she had not expected ever to hear again in such surroundings. Time slid backward, unrolling memories of decades . . . and she found herself smiling back at smiles from old friends, some of whom she had not seen in years.

Suddenly, a white-haired but lively man was standing in front of her. “Madge Walters Riley, it’s been a long time since you and I ornamented a dance floor together. Winnie and I are both in favor of our doing it again.”

“Well-Frank Peters! What are you doing back in this town?”

“Vacation trip— visiting Ralph’s folks. Come over and see Winnie. She saw you first and sent me over.” He was leading Madge along the edge of the dance floor, in front of the seated spectators. Madge saw Winnie Peters’ eager smile first, and then the wheel chair. Pity swept her as she took Winnie’s hand.

“Madge— after all these years — wonderful to see you! We must have a good visit, but right now, dance with Frank, will you? He loves it so— and I can’t; darn my legs. You two used to dance together so beautifully!”

“They’re starting the varsovienne,” Frank said. “Come on, Madge!” He had drawn her onto the floor before she knew what was happening. Dismay filled her . . . this was ridiculous! Oh, she couldn’t!

But she could; her feet remembered! And into her mind came silly little words learned long ago in a dancing class to help her master this very dance: “. . . Do you see my, do you see my, do you see my new shoes? . . . With the tips on, with the tips on, with the tips on the toes!” With a sudden recklessness, a surging will for adventure, Madge lifted her skirt in one hand, let her body sway into the music. Forward, back . . . glancing down, she could see her patent-leather toes twinkling in and out beneath her skirt.

She did not notice the crowd’s thinning until all at once she realized that she and Frank alone were dancing in the center of a watching circle. Frank’s smile and nod, his gay whispered, “Doin’ okay, aren’t we?” impelled her to continue. When the music stopped, applause roared around them. “Keep going!” someone shouted; the music began again and, as if hypnotized, Madge nodded and took Frank’s arm.

It was later, after the adventure was ended and Madge was at home, getting ready for bed, that the reaction came. What had possessed her? She’d made a fool of herself . . . the applause, the laughing compliments, must have gone to her head completely. Oh, well, to those youngsters she was just an old lady, cutting capers— What did it matter? Besides, the dancing had been fun! She stretched her toes pleasurably between the cool sheets.

She thought of Colleen. “Grandmother, you were wonderful!” Colleen had said. “I didn’t know you could dance like that!” Then, “Kay’s folks will bring me home . . . you’ll go with Mrs. Dowson, won’t you?” Colleen had not been smiling. What had been in her mind, behind the wide brown eyes? Madge lay still, trying to puzzle it out. And dreading the morning ….

She slept at last and wakened to a gray sky and a wind gusty with storm threat. Colleen was already up, and almost ready for school. Her “Good morning, Grandmother,” was quiet as usual, but her eyes still wore the questioning look, and her young body was tense.

“You sang very nicely, Colleen. And I thought your exhibit was lovely— and well done.”

Colleen’s tenseness relaxed. “Did you? I didn’t know whether you’d like it.”

“I did wonder why you chose this old house instead of a new modern type,” Madge ventured.

“Why— because this one interests me more,” Colleen answered, surprised. “It’s the one I like best.”

“You like it best? Really?”

“Of course. It could be lovely,” Colleen faltered, her cheeks flushing. “Of course, I understand it’s already lovely to you, Grandmother. But I had to experiment with my ideas, I guess; you see, I want to be an interior decorator, some day. There can’t be anything more wonderful to do, than making homes beautiful!” For one brief moment the wide eyes let fall their guarding mask. Madge could look behind and see the wistful dreams. . . . She wants to make homes beautiful!

In that moment Madge Riley made a decision faster than ever before in her life. Watching Colleen’s face closely, she asked, “Would you like to begin on this one, in reality?”

Colleen gasped and stared. Then acceptance of what she had heard, transformed her … as the sun for a moment pierced the clouds and beamed across the kitchen, touching its dullness with gold. “Oh! You don’t mean .,..?”

Madge nodded. “I guess it does need fixing up. I guess I haven’t cared enough about keeping it up-to-date.”

“Oh, Grandmother! Would I like to! And would I love having the girls come then, sometimes! Can we really?”

So that’s it. I should have guessed! “I don’t know why not. We’ll get that window fixed right away, before winter sets in. The rest— the inside things— we could do as we get time. I mean, you could by yourself, if that’s . . . .”

“Doing it together would be more fun. Grandmother, you know, last night when you danced, you were so cute and I was so proud of you! I had a sort of funny thought. Here I’ve lived with you more than half my life and never knew you!”

“Grandmother, you’re just— wonderful! ‘In the twinkling of a toe!’” Again the exuberant laughter trilled. “How come we haven’t understood each other before?”

“I don’t know, dear. Maybe we had to grow up to each other. We might make a project of getting acquainted.”

Colleen giggled. “We’ll take that one on, Grandmother. I’ll be seeing you. I almost can’t wait to get home, today . . .”

The outside door sounded an exclamation point after the final words. Madge looked around comfortably, feeling warmed and companioned. “I’ll be seeing you,” Colleen had said, not, “I’m taking off.” Was the difference symbolic of something joyful coming into her life through this granddaughter she had understood so little?

Clearing the table, Madge heard herself humming a tune. Words slipped into place:”. . . Do you see my new shoes . . . with the tips on the toes . . .?” Recklessly she executed the steps down the narrow space between the table and the cabinets. And then she stood still, and threw back her head, and listened to laughter of her own.