The Charm Bracelet(44)

Lolly shrugged like an innocent child.

Sitting a few tables over—downing an icy mug of beer and laughing with a big group—was Jake. He smiled, waved, and then began ambling toward their table, like a good-natured version of the stuffed black bear that sat near the bar with a perpetual grin on its face, a mug of beer in its paw, sunglasses on its snout, and a Scoops hat on its big head.

Arden dropped her head into her hands as Jake approached.

“Back of your head isn’t an appealing look, my dear,” Lolly said.

“What are you ladies doing here?”

“Well, we thought we’d have a quick drink and bite…”

Arden cut her mother off. “Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole, Mom. I know this is all a setup.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake said sweetly, as Trudy reappeared with beers. “I’m just glad you’re here. It’s such a fun place. Would you two mind if I stole Arden for a few minutes? I’d love to introduce her to some of my friends.”

Arden shot a glance at her mother and daughter, hoping they might intercede to save her. Neither was biting.

“I’m here with my family,” Arden said. “I promised my mom I’d have dinner with her.”

Lolly tapped her daughter dramatically and then gave her granddaughter a wink. “I think we’ll be okay, won’t we, Lauren?”

Lauren laughed, winked back, and then lifted her mug of beer to salute her mother. “We will, Grandma. Have fun, Mom!”

“We can get beer and perch together any old time, can’t we?” Lolly said, winking again, her fake eyelash softly landing like a butterfly on her cheek.

“I’m buying,” Jake said as incentive.

Arden stood hesitantly. Jake pulled out her chair, put a hand around the middle of her back, and escorted her to his table, where he began introducing her to his friends.

Lolly polished off half her beer in one big gulp, then held up two fingers to Trudy before she dashed away. “We’re gonna need them to watch this train wreck.”

Lauren smiled, in spite of herself.

“So what’s going on?” Lolly asked Lauren. “You’re definitely not yourself.”

“Mom told me about Clem today,” she said, taking a sip of her beer. “And I told her I wanted to change my major. I want to paint, Grandma.”

“I know you do, my dear,” Lolly said. “I take it your mother didn’t like that idea.”

Lauren nodded. “I told her life is too short to be unhappy. We have to follow our passion, right?”

Lolly nodded. “You’re setting me up for a story, you know. Can I tell you about the loon charm? I think it will help you.”

Lauren nodded again, before taking a big gulp of beer.

Lolly smiled, her old face beaming. She felt again for the charm and to Lauren, her grandmother looked like a young girl again, decades washing away, a light surrounding her body and emanating from her soul as if a spotlight had been focused on her in this dark bar.

“Your grandfather gave me this charm, my beautiful girl,” Lolly said, shutting her eyes as the band took the stage and began to play. “Oh, my goodness! They’re playing ‘Summer Wind’ by Frank Sinatra. Do you know this song?”

Lauren shook her head no.

“Listen to the song’s story, and then I’ll tell you mine. It’s a story about summer love, a story about a love that forever calls you home,” Lolly said, shutting her eyes and swaying her body as the honey-voiced crooner began to sing. “Your grandfather is with us tonight!”





Twenty-one





1962



Whooo-dooo-ooooh-ooooh!

The loons woke Lolly just seconds before the predawn rustling of her father. The nineteen-year-old rubbed her eyes, navigated the cool, narrow wood steps in the log cabin and padded into the kitchen, where her father stood illuminated in the darkness by the weak light from the refrigerator.

“Lemme help you, Dad,” Lolly said.

“I can get it,” he groused.

“You can? It’s okay to turn on a light,” she said, hitting the switch over the sink. “It’s not gonna wake me up.”

“I like to watch the sun rise over the lake,” her father said. “That’s my morning light. Along with you, of course.”

Lolly smiled and hugged her father, her blond head coming to rest on his flannel overshirt.

As the two pulled apart, they looked at each other closely in the burgeoning light from outside and smiled, hiding their deeper emotions: Vi’s too early death had aged both of them. There was a constant weight, like an invisible brick, pressing down on them. Vern’s hair was now more grey than black, and Lolly often woke with circles under her eyes.

Lolly started the coffee, grabbed a skillet, and pulled out three eggs and two slabs of bacon.

“Toast?” she asked.

“Yep,” Vern said.

She yanked the jam and butter from the refrigerator and bread from the bin on the counter, and plugged in the toaster. She plopped the bacon into the now-hot skillet, and when it began to bubble and grease began to fill the bottom of the pan, Lolly cracked three eggs into it.

The sun was just beginning to reflect off Lost Land when Lolly handed her father his breakfast. For a moment, the eggs’ yolks matched the early summer sunshine. Her father lifted his fork and cut into them, the yellow spilling forth and flowing haphazardly around the plate.