The Charm Bracelet(23)

Web set Mary’s sewing machine up in the front window of the new log cabin, which was built with pine logs Web had felled and split, cured and carved. White mortar held the logs in place, and it was filled with windows.

“You can work here and always have a view of Lost Land,” Web said.

The autumn vista inspired Mary, and—though the newlyweds had little money—she journeyed to the local feed store and picked out pretty patterned feed sacks, and to fabric shops where she fished out scraps, remains, and leftover material. Mary began to make quilts and curtains for the cabin. She began to make a name for herself in town, sewing for the locals. And when Mary found out she was pregnant a few months later, she ordered layette set patterns from McCall’s and—inspired by the world outside her cabin window—sewed a yellow baby blanket, with intricate designs of floating swans, lake loons, tall pines, and tender tulips.

As winter turned to spring, and magical May breezes melted the winter’s snow, Mary had to inch her stool back from her Singer, to give needed airspace between her belly and the bobbin. She became obsessed with hand-making items for her new baby, from socks and swaddling blankets, booties, beanies, and burp cloths, to onesies and a going-home-from-the-hospital outfit. Web made a tiny bassinette by hand, and Mary stacked it with their baby’s clothes.

“The charms were right,” Web told Mary one evening as they sipped iced tea on the screened porch. “We are blessed in America.”

During the last month of her pregnancy in July, Mary felt something change in her body. One day, after months of internal kicks, she could no longer feel anything, and when she went to visit her doctor, his face went blank as he held a stethoscope to her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked. “Is something wrong with my baby?”

Mary was rushed to the operating room.

Her baby—a girl—was stillborn.

Mary could hear Web’s sobs echo down the hospital’s hallways.

“We can try again,” Web said to Mary, as she recovered. “Doctor says you’re fine. Just happens sometimes.”

But Mary didn’t respond, even after she had been released from the hospital a week later. Along with her baby, she had lost hope. She refused to talk, or eat.

The first thing Mary did as soon as she returned from the hospital was take a seat in front of her Singer and begin to sew. In the middle of the night, Web woke to find his young wife was not beside him. He could hear the soft whir of the Singer sing throughout the cabin.

“Mary, what are you doing?” he whispered in the night.

She simply looked up at her husband and continued to sew.

“Mary, what are you doing?” he asked again.

“Making our child’s burial dress.”

Web’s heart shattered, and though he wanted to run away and cry, he said instead, “I’ll keep you company while you sew.”

The funeral dress was long and white, with full arms and pink stitching and little pink bows. The hem featured floating swans, lake loons, tall pines, and tender tulips.

A few days after the funeral, after Web had returned to work and the cabin was maddeningly quiet, Mary gathered every ounce of strength she had and carried her sewing machine to the lake. When she finally reached the shoreline, drenched in sweat, Mary edged into the water, up to her waist. Her clothes were heavy and wet. Step by step, Mary walked into the lake, still holding her Singer.

Suddenly, a swallow dove over her, flitting back and forth as if to draw her attention. Mary noticed the light on its wings. In the near distance, a loon moaned, as if commiserating with her. Mary stopped walking. She could feel the sun on her back. She swore she could hear Web’s laugh echo off the water, as it did when he hooked a fish. Children were swimming, laughing, in the distance.

Slowly, Mary turned and walked out of the lake.

As she did, her bracelet jangled in the breeze even as her arms struggled to hold the sewing machine, which made her charms dance even louder. She looked at the sewing machine and then the charms of the sewing machine and the four-leaf clover, their images reflected back to her from the lake.

This simple charm has much meaning, my child, Mary remembered Rima telling her when she first gave her the charm. This is to a life bound by family … no matter how far away they may be. As long as you wear this, they will always be near.

Suddenly, Mary screamed, a scream so loud the swans took flight and the loons quieted. And slowly, one step at a time, Mary trudged back to the cabin, carrying her sewing machine. She returned it to the window facing the lake, and never told her husband of her intentions.

A year later, Mary gave birth to a daughter. She would have four more children before she died at the age of eighty-seven.

“Bound by family” were the last words Mary uttered.





Nine




“One of her children, of course, was my mother,” said Lolly.

“None of us would be here without that charm,” Lauren said, her own bracelet jangling with excitement.

“That’s quite a story, Mom,” Arden said slightly less enthusiastically than her daughter.

“I’m glad you wear yours,” Lolly whispered to Lauren, touching her granddaughter’s wrist. “You’ll never know how much that means to me. I wish your mother would wear her bracelet.”

Lauren reached out and grabbed her grandmother’s hand, their bracelets resting against one another.