Arden dove into the water, grabbing her mother as she submerged, the cold of Lake Michigan taking her breath away. The two opened their eyes as they plummeted toward the sandy bottom.
Arden—sans glasses—watched her mother through the prism of the rippling water, smiling, now laughing, the sun reflecting off her head and off the water, the ripples erasing her age, making her look smooth and young.
As the two rose to the surface, Lolly messed up Arden’s hair, and laughed, huge air bubbles leaving her mouth and revolving around her head, like a character in a cartoon strip who has a lot to say.
And then Lolly reached in to hold her daughter, and, for the first time in ages, Arden felt safe, weightless, protected under water—even for just an instant—and when they came up and headed toward the shore, Arden watched their reflections—mother and daughter—dance in the water.
“I love you more than anything,” Lolly said to her daughter, and Arden felt overcome with happiness.
Lauren was waiting with towels for her mother and grandmother as they came out of the water, the sun-dappled droplets shimmering on their skin like glitter.
“Are you ready, Grandma?” Lauren asked, smiling.
Lolly stared at her granddaughter. “For what, dear?”
“Our surprise.”
Lolly cocked her head at Lauren as she dried her face.
“Grandma?” Lauren said, starting to frown. “Remember?”
Lolly studied her granddaughter’s face, searching for a clue. She shut her eyes for a few seconds. “Oh, yes,” she started. “The … the…”
Arden and Lauren stared at her.
“I can’t come up with the word,” she said.
For a moment, Lolly stared into her daughter’s eyes, and they gave each other a look that seemed to say, “What are we going to do?”
Without warning, Lauren took off running across the beach. Arden walked over and put her arm around her mother.
“It’s going to be okay,” Arden said, as much for herself as for her mother.
“Here, Grandma,” Lauren gasped a brief moment later, out of breath. “I think this is what you were looking for … the kite.”
Lolly’s face lit up. “Yes. Yes, my dear. That’s it.”
“Here,” Lauren said, thrusting a handmade kite made from the Sunday funnies into her mother’s hands. A long tail of fabric scraps that had been haphazardly tied together dangled onto the sand, leaving a shallow trail—all the way along the beach where Lauren had just run.
“What’s this?”
“Haven’t you ever seen a kite before?” Lolly laughed, shaking her head like a dog, her hair drying quickly in the sun and frizzing into an impossibly adorable version of cotton candy. “That’s why I told you my story. I realized I never made you a kite.”
“We made it for you this morning,” Lauren continued, “but I didn’t know the whole story until just now.”
“What do I do with it?” Arden said, feeling a mix of emotions.
Lolly walked up to her daughter and put her arm around her goose-pimpled back. The two began to walk the edge of the shore, the waves churning at their feet, erasing their footsteps as quickly as they left them.
“We have so little in life that we can control,” Lolly said to her daughter over the surf. “But our happiness is one of those things. That’s what your grandmother was trying to teach me: That no matter what happens in life, we can still have fun and be happy.”
Arden looked skeptically at her mother from behind her water-spotted lenses.
“Now, go fly a kite!” the two generations said at the same time.
Arden slowly began to walk the shore alone, the kite still in her hand. She felt silly.
Overhead, a few puffy, white clouds bounced along the horizon, occasionally blocking the sun, as if someone turned off the overhead lights without warning.
Arden began to trot, slowly at first, until her legs were turning as quickly as they did in her spinning class. Her trot turned into a jog that morphed into a run, which, finally, became a full-out sprint.
The strong lake breeze made Arden’s dark hair dance, and spray from the lake coated her glasses.
But Arden, for once, didn’t care.
She kept running and running, churning sand, waiting for the right gust of wind, until …
Arden tossed the kite into the sky, a gust off Lake Michigan caught it and sent it flying up, up, up.
Arden screamed in delight, and, for one moment, time stood perfectly still. As Arden continued to run with the kite, she turned and looked back at her family: Her mother was no longer getting older, her daughter was no longer unhappy, and Arden was no longer consumed by work.
For one brief moment, life slowed. Arden was simply a child, flying a kite, having fun.
part five
The Puzzle Piece Charm
To a Life Filled with Friends Who Complete You
Fourteen
Any plans to cut your vaca short? We NEED you back … NOW! (Isn’t Michigan boring, btw?)—Van
Arden stared at her phone, her fingers poised over the keys, unsure whether to reply to her boss or e-strangle him. Still, she was about to give in to his request, tell him, yes, she would come back ASAP, when she heard the outdoor shower roar to life.
Though her mother was hidden just out of view, she could hear her humming an old tune and watched as a cloud of steam danced its way toward Lost Land Lake.
Arden felt as if she were caught in no-man’s land. She wanted to stay and help her mother, but Van’s thinly veiled threats scared her.
Arden looked over at her daughter and watched her furiously texting. Lauren felt her mother’s stare and looked up.
“Grades haven’t posted yet,” she said. “I think I’ll get all A’s again. Don’t worry.”
Arden’s heart sank, realizing how much pressure Lauren must feel to excel.
Before Arden could say anything, Lolly called to her from the stoop of the screened porch.
“Your turn!” Lolly stood, clutching her wig, drip-drying in a big towel tied around her body. “Water’s warm.”
Arden looked down at her phone, hesitating.
“You both need to wash that sand off your feet before you track it around the cabin,” Lolly said, pointing at their feet.
Arden sighed. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Arden walked around to the shower, only slightly hidden from the world on the back side of the cabin, and tested the temperature of the water.
Lolly had already hung towels for her and Lauren on side-by-side hooks, one hook in the form of a fish, the other shaped like a pine tree.
Arden started to shower in her swimsuit, but then said, “Oh, what the heck,” hanging her suit on one of the hooks and placing her glasses on the grass.
Arden washed the sand from her legs and then reached into an old minnow bucket holding a variety of mismatched shampoos, conditioners and shower gels to pluck a shampoo.
As she lathered up her hair, Arden squinted and took in the view from the shower, and the simple beauty caused her heart to skip a beat: Boats zipped across the hazel water, while smoke from grills cast the scene in an ethereal haze. Lolly’s makeshift shower was, in its own way, as lovely as any luxury spa in Chicago.
Arden leaned her head back and let the warm water run over her hair.
There was something about showering outdoors—that mix of water and nature, body and soul, trees as your ceiling—that reawakened Arden’s spirit.
Arden opened her eyes, her vision blurred by the steaming water and her lack of glasses, and saw something she couldn’t quite make out which seemed to be coming toward her.
“Mom? Lauren?” she asked.
Arden squinted and fumbled for her glasses. Not finding them, she called, “Hello?”
No answer.
She shook her head and leaned toward the minnow bucket, plucking out an apricot scrub for her face. She shut her eyes and began to massage her skin, before turning her face to the w
ater. As she opened her eyes, something big yet still very blurry seemed to be approaching.
Arden shut her eyes and quickly rinsed her face, rubbing her eyes. When she opened them again, what looked like a bear was standing directly in front of her.
Arden jumped.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t see a thing, I promise.”
Arden screamed.
Lolly came running, Lauren by her side. “It’s okay, Mom! We’re here,” Lauren said, handing her mother her glasses and shielding her as Arden hastily draped a towel around her body.
“It’s not a bear!” Lolly explained. “It’s a man!”
“You sound a bit too excited, Mother. Who are you?” Arden asked, pointing at the man.
“Jake. I’m here to check on Lolly, remember? We met the other day at Lakeview. I’m the geriatric nurse who will serve as her caregiver.”
“Don’t you call?” Arden asked. “You just show up?”
“I tried your phone several times today. There was no answer. I got worried.”
“No cell reception at the beach,” Lauren explained.
“I swear I didn’t see anything,” Jake said. “I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough.”
“No, you can’t,” Lolly said, her voice clipped, turning to walk back into the cabin. “The word ‘caregiver’ is downright awful. Don’t ever use it in front of me again.”
Fifteen
“You’re right, Lolly. I shouldn’t have said ‘caregiver.’ I apologize again. I’m so sorry.”
Lolly scooched the jigsaw puzzle occupying the porch table to one side, and began filling the table’s center with sun tea, chips and dip, sandwiches, bowls, spoons, and a gallon of Scoops County blackberry ice cream.
A now-dressed Arden knew her mother’s small-town routine: She may be upset, but she’s always cordial to a guest, she thought.
Lolly looked at Jake warily, filling a glass of tea for him before doing the same for herself.
“I’m a person,” Lolly said, thrusting Jake’s tea at him. “Not a plant. I don’t need ‘care.’”
“You’re right,” Jake said, before nodding toward her gardens. “Although I can tell you have a green thumb.”
Lolly took a seat on the glider and regarded Jake, her face shifting from overcast to slightly cloudy.
“I love gardening,” she said. “It makes me happy. I love the feel of the earth in my hands, I love…”
The trilling of Arden’s and Lauren’s phones stopped Lolly in midsentence.
“Where was I?” she said, looking out at the lake. “What was I just saying?”
Lauren looked at her grandmother, and Arden shot a look at Jake, the two nervously silencing their phones.
“We were talking about gardening and then technology interrupted,” Jake said gently yet firmly, not missing a beat. “But technology isn’t all bad. Do you mind if I show you something fun on my phone, Lolly?”
Again, Lolly regarded Jake, before reluctantly nodding her head.
“I’ve always wanted to try one of those,” she said, “but I’m too old.”
“Never,” Jake said, walking over and taking a seat beside Lolly, causing the glider to swing wildly. “Here, let me show you what it can do.”
Jake powered on his cell and began demonstrating the endless app’s for Lolly.
“Here’s how you get on the Internet,” he explained, smiling.
Arden couldn’t help but notice how big his dimples were.
“And,” continued Jake, “you can check the weather, or pay all of your bills on here.”
“No,” Lolly said, amazed and shaking her head. “How?”
Jake pulled up his banking app and showed Lolly how, with a few clicks, she could manage her bills with Arden’s help.
“And we can set up a shared calendar, with musical sounds like Lauren and Arden have, to remind you when you need to take certain medications, when you need to go shopping, even when you need to wake up. Now, hold on one second,” Jake said excitedly, standing and walking outside, returning seconds later. “Look!”
Lolly grabbed his phone with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. “Pictures of my flowers! They’re so beautiful,” she exclaimed.
“And watch this,” Jake said, tapping his phone.
A few seconds later, Lauren’s phone began to trill. She looked at her cell, smiled, and answered. “Hi, Grandma.”
“Here,” Jake said. “Talk to your granddaughter.”
There, on his phone, was Lauren. Not just her voice, but her face. “How is this possible?”
“FaceTime,” Lauren said. “When you get a phone like this, you can call me anytime, and I can see your face. It’s like we’re together.”
Lauren waved at her grandmother, and Lolly waved back, although the two were only feet apart. “Talk to you later, Grandma,” she said.
“How do I get one of those?” Lolly asked.
“We’ll get you one, Mom,” Arden said. “That’s such a wonderful idea, Jake.”
Jake walked back, took a seat, and then took a sip of his sun tea. “Lolly, small cues and reminders to help your memory can really help you stay organized. Establishing a daily routine and maintaining regularity is important, and the phone can help. And I can help … if you will let me.”
Lolly’s face slowly lifted into a smile. “If you call first, don’t ever say ‘caregiver’ again, and keep taking pictures of my flowers, you have a deal.”
“Deal,” Jake replied, laughing. “The important thing to remember is simply to take care of yourself, do what you love, and see Dr. Van Meter regularly. What I’m here for—what we’re all here for—is to make sure you can continue living your life the way you already are.”
“That’s all I want,” she said, smiling at Arden and Lauren.
“Well, you certainly have the right attitude,” Jake continued. “In the early stages of MCI, you can do everything you already do: Drive, work, social activities. I’m here, like your daughter and granddaughter, to help you take care of yourself and plan as best you can for the future. On your own terms.”
Lolly looked at Arden and Lauren. She’d never asked for help her whole life. Arden smiled at Lolly, who couldn’t help but wonder and worry, What happens when Arden and Lauren go home?
As Lolly stared into Lauren’s eyes, she felt loved, and that calmed her.
“The most important thing is to spend time with friends and family,” Jake said. “To live in the moment. Enjoy every second.”
“Good advice for all of us,” Lolly added, smiling.
“Do you mind if I dig into this ice cream?” Jake suddenly asked, pointing to the container sitting on the table. “I love Dolly’s ice cream.”
“Help yourself,” Arden said. “I don’t need any more sweets. I haven’t worked out in days.”
Jake returned to his chair with a heaping bowl of blackberry ice cream. “You look like you’re in great shape,” Jake said, looking at Arden.
Arden’s face flushed thinking about the shower now that she saw him clearly. So do you, she thought before catching herself.
“I couldn’t help but notice the unfinished jigsaw puzzle on the table,” Jake mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream. “And all the framed ones on the walls. Do you like puzzles? They are great for the mind, and great for the memory.”
Lolly smiled.
“Oh, yes. I’ve loved puzzles my whole life. They’re like”—Lolly stopped and held up her bracelet—“my charms. You don’t really understand the whole picture until you understand the parts. Would you like to hear about how I got interested in puzzles, Jake?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said, using his spoon for emphasis.
Lolly lifted her charm bracelet, positioning it in a shaft of light shooting through the screen. She spun the charms as if she were playing roulette, before her fingers stopped—as if by memory—on a charm that resembled a single jigsaw puzzle piece that read BEST.
“Jo still has the interloc
king piece that says FRIENDS,” Lolly said with a smile, eyes shut, remembering something from long ago. “She always will.”
When she opened her eyes again, they were damp and a tear trickled down her cheek. “This charm sums up the importance of friends in our lives: Friends are the pieces who complete us, the pieces that complete life’s puzzle.”
Sixteen
1954
“You have to get out of bed, Lolly. You have to go outside. It’s summer.”
Lolly Dobbs pulled the covers over her head and shut her eyes. She only wanted to close out the world.
Lolly heard her bedroom door open and felt her mattress shift. She knew her father was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“I know you miss her more than anything,” Vern Dobbs said, his voice barely a whisper. “I do, too.”
When her father spoke softly, his voice sounded like a bullfrog. Or, maybe, a pickup truck driving down a dirt road. He sounded exhausted. Lolly knew—like her—he had been crying. Alone. In his bedroom.
Lolly couldn’t leave her room. Every place in the cabin reminded her of her mother. Memories of Vi were left dangling—aprons still on the clothesline, cookies in the freezer, her scent in the air—like the last leaves on a tree in fall. Her mother had even made the quilt on her bed. Lolly felt like she was in quicksand, unable to move. Every breath was painful.
“We have to move on, sweetie. We won’t ever forget her, but we have to go on with our lives. She would want that. She would want you happy, not sad. She would want you to have friends.”
Lolly yanked the covers off her head and screamed, “I don’t want any friends! I just want my mother!”
Vern’s jaw quaked. He lay down on Lolly’s bed and pulled his daughter into his arms. “I do, too, sweetie. More than anything.”
His tears were hot as they dropped onto Lolly’s face.
“I have something for you,” he said. “Your mom wanted you to keep it.”
The Charm Bracelet Page 10
