From the Improement Era, April 1957 –
Liz and the Picnic
By Verne Owen
Liz Bennett woke to the incessant whir of the Silver Clipper as it skimmed along the lake’s edge not ten yards from the cabin. Before she could shoot her lithe body into position at the small window, the sleek craft was already heading back toward the far side.
Butterflies danced up her spine as she watched the back of Brad Kimberly’s bronze head glimmer in the pale sunshine of early morning. They were bigger, more exciting butterflies than usual, for it was now, today, that the entire girls’ camp was having its annual picnic at Kimberly Acres, the rolling estate directly across Lake St. Helena. The boys’ camp at the far end of the lake had been invited, too. This would be the most wonderful day of her life!
Then her heart plunged. She wasn’t going! She had made the final decision last night! Stay away, far away, and no one would ever know what a dud she was around boys!
“Have you made up your mind to go?” Syl Walsh, her girl friend, slid alongside her.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake,” she turned quickly so Syl wouldn’t suspect she’d been watching Brad so intently.
“Are you going?” Syl prodded insistently.
“I— I ” she started.
“Oh, Liz, don’t start that all over. All last term at high you were too involved with other interests to join the fun at school. I thought coming here had changed you, you seemed so different until this picnic thing came up.”
She bit her lip; quick tears blurred her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she said aloud, and thought miserably: “You’re not a foot taller than every boy you meet; even if you were a wallflower no one would see you sticking out like a sore thumb!”
“Liz, in another week camp will be over, and you’ll have missed the best part,” Syl pleaded.
“Yes, it will be over,” she thought, “I could go today, for they’ll never see me again — no one but Syl, and she’ll be too surrounded with boys to remember I’m alive!” She said slowly, “Guess you’re right.”
Later as she dressed her mother’s words rang through her mind, “Elizabeth, you’ll never have any trouble with boys if you’ll forget your height and remember that boys are human beings and they react to any situation very much like a girl. Remember, too, that boys are not out to make fun of a girl but to like her if she’ll let them.”
“That’s not true!” Her own rebellious words echoed back at her. “Why did Bill Russell back out of my invitation to the sophomore banquet last spring? His so-called sprained ankle healed in time for bowling the next evening! And that’s human? No sir, I’ll never let myself in for that again.”
The present spiraled back as Syl bounded into the cabin with, “Come on! You’re holding up the parade.”
She followed Syl into the summer morning, the soft breeze predicting another perfect day. The wedge of silver beach spread smooth and pliable before them. Chattering girls were piling into four motorboats lining the pier, and she climbed after Syl into the last one. It swung away from shore, made a wide half circle, and headed for the opposite side. When it jogged to a stop along side the dock, she was immediately thrown into the middle of a noisy crowd of boys and girls plowing toward the lawns before the fieldstone villa that housed the Kimberly family.
Syl was flanked by two tall boys. She hoped one would turn her way. But the dark one just stared after Syl as she drifted away with the red-haired one.
Liz was trying desperately to look gay, to act as if she were having a fine time, when a tall, rather stoopshouldered boy came face to face with her. She swallowed and smiled at him. He seemed to writhe in an agony of embarrassment before turning and vanishing into the crowd.
Then the crowd began to disperse into smaller groups, and for a horrible moment she was alone, turning uncertainly toward a wrought-iron bench against a low, broad hedge.
From behind a feminine voice said, “I’m so glad everyone came. You’re Elizabeth Bennett, aren’t you? Miss Collins, your counselor, has told me that you were a runner-up in the state amateur archery meet this spring. She also said you are a golfer. There’s a short nine back of the house, and if you wish, help yourself to the clubs in the garden house and play the course.” Mrs. Kimberly smiled down at her.
“Thank you,” she answered, “and I hear you have a fine library.”
Mrs. Kimberly looked flattered, “Yes, we think it is rather extensive. If you’d like to see it, you’re quite welcome. It’s at the end of the front hall. I see it’s time for a pow-wow with your counselors but,” she pivoted slightly and caught a passing boy by the arm, “here’s my nephew, Jimmy Kimberly. He’ll see you’re entertained. Jimmy, this is Elizabeth Bennett.”
He didn’t seem enthusiastic as he acknowledged the introduction but gave her a look which spelled appraisal and sat down beside her with, “Sure, Aunt Fran, I’ll show her around.”
He looked the way she pictured Brad would look if she ever got close enough to see him well. “Is Brad Kimberly here?” she said shakily and wished the words back immediately.
“Brad!” his voice had a sharp edge. “All you girls are the same! No one is good enough for you but Brad! He’ll be out in a few minutes, you can’t miss him if you stay right here. I promised to help some fellows gather firewood. See you later.” He scooted off the end of the bench and disappeared around the hedge.
“He was too short, anyhow,” she thought wretchedly.
“Liz Bennett, how funny you should be paired off with Raymond. You’re both the best archers.”
The next few minutes went by slowly. She kept hoping a boy, any boy, would come along and claim her. “They’re afraid of me — . They’re afraid to ask me; they think they’ll get stuck with me. Oh, I wish I hadn’t come!”
More minutes passed.
“Hey, Liz, why are you sitting there? Been looking for you,” Syl bounced up. “Here’s just the fellow for you. Come on, Raymond, this is Liz.” She gave a short, freckled boy at her side a push forward as Liz stood up.
She felt her face redden, but before she had time to say anything, Mr. Kimberly, all six feet of him, got up on one of the picnic tables and started talking. “Since everyone has been practising with bows this summer, it’s been decided you’ll try out the targets set up at the edge of the woods. The couple with the best score will be crowned king and queen until the time of the swimming relays this afternoon.” He held up a long, unstrung bow. “There’ll be prizes. This is the first prize for the girl topping the scoreboard, and there is a similar prize for the boy.”
A chorus of ah’s rippled through the group and was followed by loud applause.
The lean, bronze figure of Brad Kimberly eased up behind the older Kimberly and stood smiling beside the table.
She felt her heart sink with disappointment. Brad had looked so tall, so straight sitting at the wheel of his cruiser. He couldn’t be! He couldn’t be so short! He was not even as tall as her own five seven and a half!
The boys and girls began to drift toward the match area.
“Liz Bennett, how funny you should be paired off with Raymond,” a staccato voice chopped out. “You’re both the best archers!”
“Come on, let them be first!” A tall boy rushed over and grabbed them by their elbows and shoved them forward.
“Okay, but the rest of you line up before we start. Confusion is not good for an archer,” Brad Kimberly said. “Dad, I’ll organize the crowd if you want to get these two started.”
When the noise settled somewhat, Mr. Kimberly pointed to a bin of neatly stacked bows and arrows, “Take your choice. There’s a size for everyone.”
Liz slipped on an archer’s glove from a box on top of the bin and wished fervently she had her own smooth fitting deerskin. She selected a bow that looked right, strung it, and poised it expertly. It pulled back easily. The next bow was better, it was strong yet flexible. A murmur of admiration came from the crowd as she pulled it back and let it whing. She smiled in acknowledgment to their salute of a girl who could handle a forty pound bow as if it were five or even ten pounds lighter. That she and Raymond were a ridiculous couple faded from her thoughts as she tuned her body to the rhythm of the lusty pull. The arrow dropped into place as if this was her own equipment. Her thumb rested on it momentarily, and her eyes fastened on the black bull’s-eye fifty yards away. With inborn sureness she released the heavy string. The ping that followed seemed simultaneous with the thud in the bull’s-eye.
A round of applause rang out, and she nodded and smiled again.
Raymond picked out a forty pounder that outmeasured him a foot but his easy handling of it marked him as an expert immediately.
A high pitched giggle rose above the still crowd, “Mutt and Jeff.”
A smattering of laughter flashed through the crowd but ended abrupt- ly on a distinct shhhhhhh from someone else.
She stiffened. A bitter taste filled her mouth. Anger, wild and furious, fumed inside her. She wanted to spin around and put an arrow right through that giggle!
Raymond missed the bull’s-eye but was close. Then it was her turn again. She hardly aimed at all and was surprised when the arrow struck an inner circle. Escaping the amused glances and cruel jokes was more im- portant now than anything in the world. It would have been better not to have a partner at all than this shrimp of a Raymond!
It seemed as if it were hours later when Mr. Kimberly severed their time limit with, “You’ve done very well — a real challenge to the rest of you.”
It was of no consequence whether anyone saw her or not as she flew toward the house. She paused behind a bush and rubbed vigorously at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Then she made her way more slowly to the house.
A uniformed maid opened the door and gave directions to the library.
Her breath came in heavy sighs as she moved down the long, dark hall, but once inside the huge wing, she let out a surprised gasp, “I’ve never seen so many books!” Then suddenly her body arched slightly, and her eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of their sockets for Raymond was not ten yards away.
He stared at her, alarm and shock in his homely face.
“Raymond,” she started, but his stricken eyes wouldn’t let her add, “They embarrassed you, too. That’s why you came here, isn’t it?”
“Y-y-yes, wh-what do you want?” he quavered unsteadily.
A round of thoughts whizzed through her mind and finally came out. “Raymond, there’s a golf course just off the woods,” she gestured in the general direction. “It belongs to the estate. Let’s go try our luck.”
“I — I’ve never played,” he stuttered, “I — I think I’ll stay here.”
She turned and left him but kept thinking how awful it must have been for him. His score back there had not been as good as hers, and she knew he was an even better bowman than she!
When she reached the mound of sand at the tee-off, she sank down on the bench and covered her face with her hands, “There’s never going to be anyone to understand people like Raymond and me, and the sooner we get that through our thick skulls the better!” And with that she flung her head back and pushed her stiff body off the bench. “You’re going back and face everyone. Maybe you won’t have a good time, but as long as you came to this picnic, you’re going to be a good sport about itl” But even the loudness of her voice couldn’t hide the trembling of it, and though she was standing very straight her feet were heavy as they carried her toward the sweet smelling pine trees at the edge of the woods skirting the golf course. She couldn’t help feeling that the farthest way back would be best, would take up a little more of the long, long day.
A hiss ending on a note of pain brought her to a stop. It came again, and her eyes picked out a sleek brown Doberman dog straining to free his forefoot from under a large log.
“Oh, you poor fellow,” she exclaimed softly. “Here let me help you.” She stepped into the woods and kneeling at the huge animal’s side said, “No wonder you’re stuck. How did you roll that log over like that?”
He whimpered and nuzzled his head against her arm.
“Okay, fellow, I’ll get it off, but it will take time, That boulder has slipped against the log. Understand?”
He gazed up, and the intelligent eyes seemed to say, “It’s all right; go ahead.”
Fifteen minutes later she wiped perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You’re free, big boy! Now let me look at that foot.” Deftly her fingers searched the paw and slender leg. “Pretty sore? But there’s nothing broken.”
“Hey, get away from that dog. He doesn’t like strangers. Darbo, come here. How did you get out of the kennel?” Brad Kimberly squeezed in between Liz and the dog. “How did you get so close to him?”
“His foot was caught under this log,” she was irked by his tone, “and I’ve been around dogs before.”
“I guess you have,” he turned and looked at her. “I’ve never seen Darbo make friends before.”
“My dad says I have a way with dogs. We have three.” The irked feeling began to disappear as an ap- preciative smile spread across his face. “Darbo is lucky his leg isn’t broken.”
“Darbo is lucky you came along,” he said. “Are you with the picnic?” He held out his hand to help her up. “I’m Brad Kimberly.”
A picture of him skimming across the lake in his clipper flashed before her, and suddenly her tongue was clinging to the roof of her mouth. At least he didn’t remember her and the archery match this morning.
She stared at the hand. Stand up? No! her heart cried out. But he helped her. Up — up — UP she went, a full two inches over him. Her face burned; an urgency to run filled her.
“Your name?” he asked again.
What difference did her name make? All he really wanted now would be to get away as fast as possible before someone saw them together. This bronze boy with the broad shoulders would have the same kind of pride as she!
He cocked his head to one side and grinned amiably, “It makes a difference?” He touched the top of her head lightly with an index finger, “Somehow I had the feeling you’d measure a fellow’s worth by the two feet he has on the ground not the ones above it. But if it helps any, my dad was a REAL runt before he was eighteen. I come from a long line of runts before eighteen!”
She grinned, a sudden warm grin that came all the way from her toes. Here was the friendship she’d been searching for, a friendship with sympathy and understanding, and it would never be measured by height or breadth but by the depth of feeling.
“My name is Elizabeth Kay Bennett, but my friends call me Liz,” she said softly and glowed inwardly. Mom had been right! Boys were human beings if you’d give them half a chance!