The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [119]
“Quick, jump, before they take off again!” I cried, not content to pray. I grabbed Minnie and hugged her to me; closing my eyes, I pushed us both from the wagon, and we landed on a soft patch of grass, rolling over and over. Miraculously, we were mostly unhurt, as was Mrs. Bleeker, who landed only ten feet away. Gasping and blinking, we sat catching our breath until Mr. Bleeker came running up on his long, loping legs, his beard practically trailing behind him.
“Julia! Vinnie! Minnie! To see you alive—didn’t think I would! You’ve had a providential escape!” He fell to his knees and fiercely embraced his wife.
“I did not really think any of us would be killed,” his wife replied, although her lips trembled, as did her hands. “I was so busy holding the little ones so that they wouldn’t go flying out, I couldn’t be afraid.”
“You saved us,” I told her, my own limbs shaking. “You kept us inside the wagon.”
That was the one time, on the entire trip, Reader, when I truly felt vulnerable. Every other danger had been equal to us all. Indians, robbers, those terrifying sudden thunderstorms in the mountains that could wash away a road in the blink of an eye—any in our party could have perished because of them, regardless of size.
But as that wagon careened down the road, and Minnie and I were utterly helpless, unable to brace our feet against anything to keep us inside, I had felt, for only the first time since my days with Colonel Wood, physically vulnerable. Even more distressing, I had felt unable to protect my sister, despite my promises to Mama and Papa—and to myself.
“Are you all right?” I finally looked at Minnie, who was still in my arms. “Oh, what a terrible blow it would be to Mama and Papa, had we both perished!”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Minnie answered, with an unexpected little laugh. “I thought to myself, Go ahead, horses, do your best; I can ride as fast behind you as you can run.” She laughed again; I stared at her as she gently but firmly unwound my arms from her shoulders and slid off my lap. She stood up and brushed her torn skirts briskly; my timid little sister did not appear to have been frightened in the least.
“You did, did you?” I asked her, amazed.
“Yes. For you see, Sister,” Minnie said with a suddenly wise, ancient look in her eyes, “I am not to be killed so easily.”
I laughed, surprise and relief chasing away my terror. And I believed her, all of a sudden. I believed her conviction, her defiance in the face of disaster. Or perhaps I simply wanted to believe her. Whatever the case, for the rest of the trip I did not worry at all for my sister’s safety, and it was a great burden lifted from my shoulders. No more did I feel guilt and anxiety for keeping her with me; she would be perfectly fine.
How foolish I was! For it wasn’t kangaroos or snakes or typhoons or runaway horses that I needed to fear. It was nothing nearly so dramatic as all that.
No, it was simply love, the desire to live a normal life, like any woman. This was what I myself did not have the courage to face. And so I did not think, even for a moment, that my sweet, simple sister did.
But I was wrong.
INTERMISSION
From The Popular Science Monthly, February 1877
TALKING BY TELEGRAPH
On Sunday, November 26th, Prof. A. Graham Bell experimented with the “telephone” on the wires of the Eastern Railroad Company between Boston and Salem.… According to the account published in the COMMONWEALTH of Boston, conversation was carried on with Mr. Watson at Salem, by all those present, in turn, without any difficulty, even the voices of the speakers being easily recognized.
From Scribner’s Monthly, October 1877
NEW AND