Summer Days

In the summer of 1871, Edith Carow was ten years old. She had been invited, once again, to join the Roosevelt family for their annual summer escape from the heat and disease of New York City. Her mother and sister, Emily, had likewise joined the Roosevelts while her father remained in the city, sweating over their ever-tightening financial straits. Edith looked forward to these annual summer trips, because for a little while she could forget the tensions of home and give herself over to enjoying fresh air, sunshine, and the constant company of her best friend, Corinne Roosevelt.

Corinne was the same age as Edith, or Edie, as everyone called her, and the two girls were devoted to each other. They both enjoyed quiet pursuits, though Edie was generally the more daring of the two when the occasion arose.

And those occasions did arise, usually brought about by Corinne's older brother, Teedie.

That summer, Teedie was thirteen, and seemed more determined than ever to kill himself with his constant need to run, swim, row, climb, or jump.

Many's the time, Teedie came and sat on the porch steps, dripping wet from some tumble into the lake, either accidental or purposeful, and regaled the girls with tales of his daring and bravery. He told the tales in such amusing ways that Edie could not help but laugh, though Corinne managed, between the laughter, to also scold him for his terrible bragging.

One day, Teedie came and sat on the porch steps, dry for once though he was wearing his oldest, dirtiest clothes. Corinne and Edie sat, quiet and careful in their white dresses and bows. Corinne frowned over her embroidery hoop while Edie read aloud from Bleak House.

Teedie sat and listened for a while, then turned abruptly and said,

"Edie, why don't you ever come with me and try stuff?"

Edie calmly placed a marker in her book and looked at Teedie.

"Because I am a young lady."

Teedie laughed out loud.

"You're not a lady. You're nothing but a girl!"

Edie only smiled in the calmly superior way which, she well knew, drove Teedie crazy.

Teedie's laughter faded in the face of that smile and he turned away to glare at the surface of the lake, visible through a thin covering of trees.

Edie resumed her reading, seemingly unaware of anyone else's presence. In reality, she knew that Teedie was brooding, disgruntled with her. She did not mind his disapproval in such a matter, though she minded her own keen awareness of his moods.

The summer afternoon stillness was broken only by the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen as Cook prepared supper. Everyone else in the world, it seemed, had found a shady spot to rest and wait out the heat of the day until the soft gray evening called them out again. Then they would emerge, white suits and dresses glowing in the purple twilight.

Suddenly, Teedie turned again to look at Edie. Teedie did everything suddenly.

"Spotless Edie. That's what I'm going to call you. Afraid to get yourself dirty."

Again, Edie lowered her book and looked at him.

"I am not afraid, but it would be silly of me to go and ruin a perfectly good dress just to prove it to a foolish boy."

Teedie jumped to his feet, rigid with anger.

"Foolish! Well, I call it foolish to sit around all day sewing and reading and pretending to be a lady."

Edie knew Teedie's tempers and knew, as well as a sister, precisely what would send him off in a rage.

She stared into his eyes, a cool expression of indifference on her face, and raised her book again until it blocked him from her view.

She heard the sound of inarticulate rage and heard him crash away through the tall grass.

When silence returned, Edie lowered her book.

"Edie," Corinne said with a smile, "you seem to have a special talent for making him crazy with anger. Aren't you ever afraid of him when he's like that? He makes me a little afraid."

Edie gave a rueful shake of her head.

"No, I'm never afraid of Teedie, though I know it is wicked of me to provoke him so." She smiled. "But sometimes it is irresistible."

The next afternoon, Corinne and Edie sat under a tree by the lake to watch rowboats drift by and listen to the pleasure-seeking sailors call across the water to each other. Edie closed her eyes against the glare of light reflected from the water's surface, and enjoyed the feel of dappled shade on her face.

From overhead, she heard a whisper of movement and felt something small and heavy fall into her lap. She gave a small start of surprise, but made no sound. Beside her, Corinne shrieked and jumped up. Edie looked into her lap and saw a large brown toad blinking lazily at her.

Teedie. She didn't have to look up to know it was he.

With every appearance of boredom, Edie picked up the toad and gingerly placed him on the ground beside her. Then, she closed her eyes again, folded her hands on her lap, and settled back against the tree trunk.

The next day, Edie's book was missing. She searched the house, questioned every member of the household she could find, then searched again. Finally, in mute frustration, she gave up and joined Corinne on the porch.

Soon, Teedie sauntered around the corner of the house.

Edie knew immediately, from the look on his face, that he had her book, or at the least, knew where it was.

"So," he said, "I, uh, found your book." He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a porch post.

"Oh?" Edie said with an admirable show of nonchalance.

"Yes." Teedie glanced toward a tall, old oak tree. "Somehow it got up that tree." He looked back at Edie, challenge in his eyes. "Guess you'll have to climb up there and get it."

"I guess you'll have to go up and get it for me."

"Me? Nah. I've climbed enough trees for today. You do it. If you want your book back, you have to go get it."

Edie assumed a look of surprise.

"My book? Oh, no. It's your father's book. I don't suppose he'll be very pleased to find that it is stuck in a tree, but I suppose I'll have to tell him." She sighed and shook her head as though picturing the unhappy scene.

Teedie stared for a minute, then straightened and stalked away. That evening, Edie found the book sitting on a table in the parlor.

And so it went for the rest of the week: Teedie tried everything he could think of to ruffle Edie's composure and Edie thwarted him with her indomitable calm.

Finally, on Saturday afternoon, Teedie came and sat peaceably on the porch steps.

"Look here, Edie," he said after a few minutes, "I've decided to stop. You can be "Spotless Edie" if you want to be. Friends?" He rose and held out his hand.

Edie took it willingly. She would not have admitted it for the world, but Teedie's tricks had succeeded in discomposing her and she had struggled to keep her mounting tension at bay. Every day, she awoke to spend the day nervously anticipating what trick he might try next. She knew that if he kept it up, soon she would be unable to control her reactions and she dreaded the result. So, Teedie's peace offering was very welcome.

"Would you go for a row with me to show we're friends again?" he asked with an eager, earnest expression.

She was equally eager to return to their former friendship and took him up on his offer.

They spent the next hour enjoying the lake. Edie leaned over the side of the boat and trailed her fingers in the water while Teedie plied the oars. Occasionally, he pointed out a bird or a particular water plant and told her the genus and species as well as common habitat and habits, but mostly they went in companionable silence.

Finally, Teedie turned and pulled for the dock.

Edie felt the tension of the last few days slip away as the shoreline came closer.

Edie missed the glance Teedie threw at her when they slipped into shallower water. Without warning, he stood up. The boat rocked crazily for a moment, then righted. Edie grabbed the edge of the boat and looked at Teedie. He was grinning.

"No!" That was all Edie could get out before she felt the boat tip and she was in the water.

She flailed, unsure of what was up and what was down. In a moment, though, her feet found the rocky bottom of the lake and she rose, dripping, from the water.

"You lying...! You conniving...! You wicked boy!" Edie was beyond any lessons in deportment, beyond thoughts of ladylike behavior, or calm detachment. She knew she looked ridiculous in muddied dress and bedraggled hair bows, but she did not care. She dragged her skirts up over her knees and waded toward Teedie, who stood in a few inches of water, hands on his hips and his head thrown back in laughter.

Edie stopped in front of her tormentor, too angry for the moment to say anything more.

"Oh, come on," Teedie said when he could catch his breath. "Come on, Spotless Edie. Doesn't that feel better now? A nice swim is just the thing for a hot day." And he let out another guffaw of laughter.

The commotion drew a small crowd to the lakeside, including Edie's mother and Teedie's parents.

Edie looked into Teedie's eyes and said, so quietly that no one else could hear,

"I shall never forgive you, Theodore Roosevelt."

At this, the laughter in his eyes faded a little.

"Edie," he said and might have continued, but his father's voice boomed out.

"Theodore, what is going on?"

Teedie turned, finally looking a little guilty.

Edie could not have said what made her do it, but before he could stutter out an answer, she spoke. With as much dignity as the small ten-year-old could manage, she said, "It's all right, sir. The boat tipped us out, that's all."

Teedie shot her an astonished look.

Teedie's father looked dubious, but he allowed the ladies to take over, fussing over Edie and insisting she get into dry clothes immediately. Edie swept up the lawn toward the house, and refused a backward glance at the lake or her tormentor.

That evening, the grown-ups went out, leaving the children in the care of the young housemaids.

After supper, Corinne settled to her needlework, but Edie found that she was too restless to sit for long. Even her book could not hold her interest. She kept going over and over the afternoon's events. She recalled, with shame, her own burst of temper. The outburst was understandable, perhaps, but her mother's lessons in the proper behavior of a lady would not let her excuse the behavior. She recalled, as well, with some hurt and puzzlement, Teedie's offer of friendship and cruel betrayal. A betrayal of a trust and a friendship which had obviously been more important to her than to him.

Finally, she wandered outside and stood, looking at the moon, rising over the treetops on the other side of the lake.

She heard the door behind her and expected Corinne had followed to check on her.

When she heard Teedie's voice, she stiffened.

"Edie?" He sounded shy, almost timid. He stood beside her on the edge of the porch. She did not look at him. He looked out at the shadows around the lake. "Edie, I'm sorry. I don't know what made me do it. I just felt like I had to. Somehow. But I mean to confess everything to father when he gets home. I'll feel better once he punishes me. But I won't feel any better until I know you've forgiven me."

A long silence stretched between them. The cicadas and bullfrogs took up their night songs and a cool breeze danced up the lawn from the lake.

"Will you forgive me, Edie? I want us to be friends again. Really friends."

Edie resisted the impulse to forgive him immediately. When she didn't respond, Teedie went on. "I know I said that before, about being friends, and I tricked you. But you know I'm a man of my word and I give you my word now that I will never do such a thing again. Word of honor."

She wanted to punish him for hurting her, but his voice, soft and pleading now, so different from his usual boisterous tones, made her anger soften and dissolve on the breeze. She knew that Teedie did take his word seriously and she trusted him to keep it. She also knew that he was suffering already, inflicting more on himself than she ever could. Besides, if he was going to tell his father, she knew that Teedie would need a friend to help him through the next few days.

Finally, she turned and held out her hand.

"Friends," she whispered.