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two Lexi lay in bed listening to the sounds of the house on Saturday morning . Her sixth day there, and it was still strange to hear the gurgling of water running in pipes through the walls. Someone’s feet padded along the carpet in the hallway below. She heard the soft click of the bathroom door handle and then the toilet flush. Even up on the third floor, safely in bed, she blushed, thinking it might be Dr. Oliver. One good thing about an outhouse, you never heard anything. The feet padded to another door and she heard it close and then the low rumble of voices. What time was it? The early light shone brightly. She remembered the driving lesson. Heart pounding, she leapt out of bed. Ten minutes later she ran down to make the coffee and, while she was measuring it out, the dream she had in the middle of the night came back to her. She was wobbling among the chickens on a bicycle in the backyard at home, Mama glaring at her out of the kitchen window.Then the bicycle turned into a yellow car with her in the driver’s seat. The car was reckless, as if it had a mind of its own. It swerved around and around in the yard and then headed towards a wall of the house, towards Mama. She’d woken with a jolt and had taken a long time to fall back to sleep. The aroma of the bubbling coffee calmed her a little.As she got the breakfast ready, she remembered Willy’s bicycle. Mama had been adamant . Mennonite girls did not ride bicycles. But she’d been adamant too. She sneaked out at night to practise, stumbling and tottering around the dirt yard on the rickety old bike with its dangling fender. When she rode out of the yard a few days later in full view of the kitchen window, Mama refused to speak to her for days. Papa threatened the strap even though she was already fourteen. She’d committed the sin of all sins. She’d been too independent. She had deliberately disobeyed. When Dr.Oliver came into the kitchen a few minutes later, her stomach fluttered with anxiety and she busied herself with the porridge instead of looking at him. The children came in, still in their pyjamas, and she placed steaming bowls in front of them. Watermelon Syrup 21 jacobsen_text 8/27/07 10:05 Page 21 She had the courage to look at him while his face was hidden behind the morning paper. He was wearing a hand-knitted maroon sweater with a yellow border around the V-neck, and under it a white shirt and matching yellow bow tie.A flat tweed cap and leather gloves lay on the table. He looked like a picture out of one of the fashion magazines Mrs.Oliver left lying around the living room. Dashing, as the advertisements said. She was sure that Mrs.Oliver hadn’t knitted that sweater.And what would people think when they saw a Mennonite maid sitting beside the glamorous doctor, driving his car? “Ready, Aleksandra?” he said, after he’d taken an eternity to read the morning paper, eat his toast and bacon and drink his two cups of coffee. She’d begun to wash the dishes, her back to the table. “I should finish…” “Never mind those. You can finish them when we get back.” He got up and headed to the back door. “See you in the garage.” “Cammy?” he called. When there was no answer he sent Simon and Sally up to find their mother. “Don’t worry about the children,” he said.“Cammy was getting up when I came down.” Lexi quickly dried her hands, glanced guiltily at the dishes piled in soapsuds, and ran upstairs to her room to get her old leather purse. She had no idea why she needed it. It held only a few cents and a handkerchief. But it seemed terribly important that she have Mama’s purse with her. Dr.Oliver was standing beside the car when she got to the garage. He put on his gloves and held the door of the car open for her. She slid cautiously into the driver’s seat and placed the purse in her lap. He slammed the door shut behind her with such a bang that she jumped.When he got into the passenger side of the car, he handed...
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