Miranda (1975)
Part I: Youth
“When is Mama coming home?” Lizzie whined. “She was supposed to tell me a story before bedtime. She promised.”
Nana looked down at the four-year-old in her lap and smiled. Lizzie had always been a willful child, seeming yet to have grasped that the world did not revolve around her. Nana knew that the birth of Lizzie’s new baby brother would certainly put in wrench in the little girl’s life.
“You mother is at the hospital, Lizzie. She will be there for a couple of days.”
“But she promised!”
“I know she did, but sometimes even grownups can’t keep their promises. Only God and Mother Nature knew when it was time for your baby brother to be born. Even Mama didn’t know.”
Lizzie looked defeated. Anger turned into confusion about this new baby brother her mother would be bringing home.
“How about if Nana tells you a nice story?”
“You will? You really will?” Lizzie’s eyes seemed to brighten for a moment.
“Of course I will, Lizzie Bug,” Nana said, relieved that she was finally getting through to her great-granddaughter. “Now, into bed with you and I will begin.”
Lizzie obeyed, climbing into her yellow canopy bed, the one she’d insisted she had to have when her parents had taken her shopping for her “Big Girl Bed”. She settled on her back, ready.
Nana tucked the covers around her great-granddaughter and placed Beatrice Bear next to her. Lizzie never slept without Beatrice, although she would deny it if any of the other children in the neighborhood asked.
Nana took a seat in the rocking chair that would soon make its way into the baby’s nursery. For now, though, it was the perfect place to tell a story.
“Are you ready, Lizzie?” Nana asked. She folded her hands and laid them in her lap.
“Yes, Nana,” She replied eagerly. This child certainly did love her stories. “What kind of story are you going to tell me?”
“Well,” Nana thought, “Would you like to hear a story about a very close friendship between two girls?”
“Best friends like Anna and me?” Lizzie asked, fidgeting under her covers.
“Not exactly, sweetheart, but sort of.”
“Okay,” Lizzie agreed. “Make it a good one!”
Nana began to rock, causing a slow rhythmic pulse to enter the room. It would eventually serve as a metronome for Lizzie, causing her eyes to at first flicker open and close, and finally close into a deep dreamless sleep. The story about to be told was more for her Nana than for her, anyway.
“Once upon a time, there were two girls just about your age, Miranda and Jane. . .
Miranda Randolph was a tomboy, willful and unafraid of anything that came in her path. As the only daughter in a farm family with five boys, her mother tried in vain to produce a young Lady, but Miranda fought it every step of the way. She always came home to supper with scabbed, bloody knees and dirt caking the lovely dress her mother insisted she wear every morning despite Miranda’s adamant protests.
Miranda was a beautiful child underneath all the dirt and grime. She had long, straight blonde hair that shone like honey in the sunlight. Her beauty was the envy of all the girls in the village. Every girl her age wanted to be her best friend, but for some reason, Miranda chose Jane.
Jane Smith was a slight, delicate child. Her long frizzy red hair was always tied in two plaits down her back. Compared to Miranda, Jane's face was pale, freckled, and rather unremarkable in feature. Her clothing was as plain as her name. . .
"Nana," Lizzie asked, interrupting the story, "if they were so different how did they become friends?"
"A very good question, Lizzie. I was just getting to that part," Nana replied. "One day, all the children of the village were playing a game of "Annie Over" . . .
There were two teams that day. Miranda and her brothers and Jane and her older sister were on one team, while another team of kids led by loud-mouthed Bradley Crawford stood directly across from them.
The rules of "Annie Over" are similiar to modern day Dodge Ball. One person from Bradley's yteam would yell "Annie" then throw a ball to a member of the opposite team. If the person doesn't catch the ball, that team is "it". If the person catches the ball, the teams switch sides.
That particular day, Bradley's team kept throwing their ball directly at Jane, because they knew she would never catch it. Over and over, they threw it at poor Jane.
Jane was close to tears out of embarrassment for not being able to help out her team. Miranda's brothers kept making mean remarks about how they should have never let her play on their team while Bradley's team kept taunting her saying, "Throw it to Jane Smith! She'll never catch it!"
The tears finally began to slip down poor Jane's pale face. She sniffled as quietly as she could, not wanting anyone to know she was crying.
Miranda was the only one who saw them. She immediately became angry and ran out between the two groups of kids.
"Stop being mean to Jane. All of you," she demanded. Her pretty face turning red with anger. Jane was taken aback. She was used to being picked on and having no one stand up for her.
"We're not doing anything," Bradley protested. "We're playing the game fair and square."
"Yeah," his friend Andrew Johnson said. "The rules don't say we can't keep throwing it at the same person." The boys slapped hands together.
"I don't care what the rules say, "Miranda said. "I'm quitting. This game isn't fun anyway."
"Yeah, it is getting boring," Bradley agreed. "Come on boys. Let's go play baseball without the girls."
"Good idea,"Andrew said.
The kids dispersed their separate ways. Jane's older sister, Joanna, came over to collect Jane to go home with her.
"Can't Jane come home with me for some tea?" Miranda asked her. Jane's eyes widened. No one had ever invited her over to their house before. She usually spent her time home in the kitchen with her mother or in the company of her older sister.
"I supposed Jane could do that," Joanna said, just as awed as her sister.
And that was the start of a beautiful friendship.
"That was nice of Miranda to stick up for Jane," Lizzie said.
"It certainly was. It's not nice to hurt people's feelings," Nana agreed.
"One time Billy Martin kept pulling Anna's pigtails and I told him to leave her alone!"
Nana smiled at Lizzie. "That was very nice of you. I bet Anna appreciated it."
"She did. That's how we got to be good friends."
"Oh my," said Nana. "It sounds like you and Anna have a lot in common with Jane and Miranda."
"Keep going Nana. Tell more of the story."
"Okay, Lizzie. So, from that day on, Miranda and Jane were inseperable . . .
They spent many hours playing house in Miranda's brothers' treehouse. The boys were angry at being kicked out of their own creation, but Miranda was firm. She and Jane got to use the treehouse every time the boys were off with their father or when they were playing baseball with Bradley and Andrew.
When they played house, Jane was always the mother and Miranda was always the father. They used Jane's doll, Clarie, as their child.
"I'm off to chop wood, darling," Miranda said to her "wife" in her deepest Daddy voice.
"Be careful," Jane said sweetly. "Clarie and I will be happy when you return."
The girls played like this for hours, living inside their heads rather than join in with the rest of the town children.
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