Dandelion Summer

by Mary Ellen Bramwell

  “Okay,” Madelyn said while under her breath adding, “but he was never going to stop talking.”

  “I heard that, and yes, he’s long-winded, but I’m sure you could have handled it better, don’t you think?”

  Madelyn looked down at her feet, shuffling them on the ground. “I suppose so.”

  “All right then. Let’s get in the car and go home so you can call your dad.” She was smiling again as they drove the short distance home.

  . . .

  When it was finally her turn to talk to Dad, Madelyn chose to speak to him on the phone extension in his study. There she could listen to the sound of his voice in a room that was alive with her thoughts of him.

  “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

  “Thanks, Madelyn. So, how are you doing?”

  “Okay,” Madelyn said without realizing she’d released her hair from its elastic, idly running her fingers through it.

  “Really? Somehow I think you can elaborate a little bit more than an ‘okay’.”

  Madelyn smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “You’re right.” He may not have known what he was unleashing, but the floodgates opened as Madelyn proceeded to tell him about her run-in with Mrs. Burnham, going to the park, talking briefly to Zane, finishing with finding The Hobbit. She didn’t know if he could follow her stream of consciousness, but she didn’t care.

  He chuckled lightly. “That’s quite a lot for a week, although it sounds like all of that happened yesterday. What about earlier in the week?”

  “Uh. Well, Jilly and I kind of …” Madelyn didn’t know how to finish the thought knowing none of the time they’d spent together had been her idea. Her hand dropped, letting go of the hair she hadn’t realized she’d been playing with. “Jilly’s a great little sister,” she finally said, almost in a whisper.

  “Yes, she is. And, Madelyn, I’m glad you’re back. You really couldn’t pretend not to care forever.” She tried to sputter a denial but choked on the truth of his words. “So, have you forgiven me for leaving?”

  Chagrined, Madelyn said, “Yeah, I guess so,” then quickly added, “but it doesn’t mean I don’t still miss you.”

  “Of course you do. I miss you too. You’re my bright spot—you always have been. Have you started reading The Hobbit yet?”

  “Yes, and I love it! But I want to spread it out over the summer. So, I only let myself read a few pages then I read one of my library books instead. I want to finish The Hobbit the day before you come home.”

  “All right. I’ll do the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I saw it in the airport bookstore in Atlanta. When I was younger, I loved it. So, I bought you a copy and then one for me. I figured we could read it together.”

  Madelyn squealed with delight. “I love that, Dad! What page are you on?”

  “I haven’t started yet. I wanted to make sure you got it in the mail first before I began.”

  “Well, I’m at the start of the second chapter, but I won’t tell you what’s happening until you read it, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Sounds good. How about I catch up to you and then read two more chapters by next Sunday? Then we can talk about it. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Madelyn was having a hard time relaxing the smile on her face, until he spoke one last time.

  “How’s your mom? Are you taking care of her?”

  Why did he have to go and ruin it by asking about Mom? “Sure. She’s fine, Dad. She’s taking charge of things. She’s just fine.” Madelyn realized that for some reason, with all she’d told him, she hadn’t mentioned the dandelions. Even as it dawned on her, she held back, not certain why.

  “Okay. Just keep watching out for her, will you? You might find … well, she just might surprise you.”

  “Surprise me? How is Mom going to surprise me?”

  “Oh … never mind.” He was flustered, something he rarely was.

  Madelyn brushed it off. “Okay. Do you want to talk to her now?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Madelyn. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  When Mom picked up the extension in the kitchen, Madelyn settled down right where she was to read chapter two of The Hobbit. She couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next to Bilbo with a handful of dwarves and a wizard thrown in. As Madelyn twirled her hair in her fingers, she thought about just how hard it was going to be to save the third chapter for later in the week.

  Monday

  Madelyn woke early Monday morning to a quiet house. It was actually too early to be up, even earlier than for a school day. But hard as she tried, she couldn’t fall back asleep. So, she threw on some clothes and made her way downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal for breakfast. She didn’t usually read the newspaper—that had been more Dad’s thing than anyone else’s—but she decided to give it a try. It was then that she remembered Dad had canceled the subscription for the summer.

  When Mom entered the kitchen soon after, she was surprised to see Madelyn going out the back door. “Where are you heading?”

  Madelyn shrugged her shoulders. “I thought I’d check on the garden, and you know …,” leaving the rest unsaid, instead nodding to the whole outside. Mom smiled and nodded in return, silently acknowledging that Madelyn was doing something she’d rather not.

  Mrs. Burnham discovered her a short while later in the front yard. “Hello, Madelyn. What are you doing?” Maybe she meant it to be a friendly question, but it came off sounding like an accusation, especially when combined with the piercing stare that accompanied it.

  Without a word, Madelyn held out a recently plucked dandelion in her grasp. Why Mrs. Burnham felt the need to ask a question with such an obvious answer was beyond her. “Just digging up dandelions,” she said, wishing she had a snappier comeback. But then she whispered, conspiratorially, “You know, the ones you were worried about.”

  While Madelyn was debating whether to feel bad about her retort, Mrs. Burnham decided to walk onto their lawn and survey the work ahead of her. “You’ll never finish, you know—at least not with your half-hearted attitude.”

  Madelyn sat up from where she was bent over the lawn. “Mrs. Burnham, you don’t know anything about my heart—half, full, or otherwise.” With that, Madelyn turned back to her task and attacked with a vigor previously unknown to her. Mrs. Burnham may be right that Madelyn didn’t much care about this particular task, but if she was that observant, surely she’d noticed Madelyn helping her dad with other projects and knew she was quite capable. She smiled a little as she worked, thinking about her new friend, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. The dwarves didn’t think much of him to start with either, but he was determined to show them. Madelyn could do the same.

  The problem with that thought was that Mrs. Burnham didn’t go away, and Madelyn was having to actually continue to dig up those nasty dandelions. Mrs. Burnham said nothing more, just stood over Madelyn blocking the sun. She’d lost count, but by now Madelyn was sure she’d reached her twenty weed count for the day. The problem was she didn’t know how to quit without giving Mrs. Burnham the upper hand.

  Fortunately, or unfortunately, Daniel picked that moment to turn the hose on Madelyn—full blast. She was dripping mad from head to toe. “Daniel!” she yelled, running after him, Mrs. Burnham momentarily forgotten. It was then that Madelyn came across a laughing Jillian at the spigot.

  She reached out to grab Jillian when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Burnham walking away in a huff. Jillian squealed as Madelyn picked her up, certain Madelyn was going to do something to get even, but was surprised by a hug instead. Jillian looked at her in confusion then burst out in giggles. />
  Daniel soon returned to see what was happening. The shocked expression on his face at their laughter was the best revenge Madelyn could have wanted.

  . . .

  After the warm day, the cool breeze felt pleasant flowing through Madelyn’s bedroom window that evening. She picked up a library book, but it failed to capture her interest. So, she opted instead to comb the kitchen cupboards for a snack. Crackers in hand, she wandered toward the living room where she discovered Mom and Jillian curled up on the couch reading a book. She recognized the words Mom was reading. They were from one of her old children’s books. Madelyn had three favorites—Where the Wild Things Are; Go, Dog. Go!; and Are You My Mother? It seems like when she was little Mom read those same three books to her over and over and over, so much so that Madelyn could recite the words from memory. Even after she could sound the words out for herself, Madelyn still preferred to listen to her mom read them, resting in her arms, feeling like all was right with the world.

  Madelyn leaned up against the wall just around the corner from where they were reading, not wanting to be seen but letting the warm comfort of the familiar words envelop her. As she relaxed, her body slid down until she was sitting in the empty hallway up against the wall, soaking it all in.

  She smiled as they moved from one book to the next—her three books—everything the same and nothing so. Madelyn listened to each word and the turn of each page as if it were a graceful two-step being danced before her. She closed her eyes to shut out all distractions so she could participate in the dance, seeing the pages of the books before her, each detail of the illustrations twirling in front of her—one page following the next, turn after turn.

  Suddenly everything stopped, and her eyes flew open. The sound of her mother’s voice continued, but something was wrong. The dance was all wrong!

  Madelyn jumped to her feet and rounded the corner into the living room to where they sat. She choked in surprise at the scene in front of her—not because things were out of place, but rather because they weren’t. Mom and Jillian were curled up just as Madelyn had discovered them earlier. The two books already read were to one side, and Mom was finishing Where the Wild Things Are with Max coming home to find his soup still warm. But Madelyn was cold, and she had no idea why.

  Tuesday

  Madelyn tossed and turned that night, racking her brain to understand what was wrong, but she could think of nothing that should have left her so upset. Nothing had been unusual or different that she could put her finger on. The only logical conclusion was that she was losing her mind—not any more of a comforting thought. As the first hint of daylight trickled into her room, Madelyn finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

  It was fully light when she pulled herself out of bed, still tired but no longer able to sleep, hearing the giggles and conversation of her family seeping in under her door. After getting dressed and eating breakfast, she went in search of her younger brother and sister. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she wanted to spend as little time as possible with Mom.

  She spent much of the day with the two of them—playing tag outside, Monopoly inside, even taking them on a bike ride to the library. Although Madelyn hadn’t planned on it, she found that being a good big sister made the rest of life more bearable, and even her strange unease around Mom began to dissipate. She even considered reading The Hobbit out loud to Jillian and Daniel, before realizing she couldn’t bring herself to share that one thing that was just hers and Dad’s. As Madelyn curled up in Dad’s study to read another chapter, she decided maybe next summer she could read it again and share it with them. But for now, she was content to be slightly selfish.

  Thursday

  Every other Thursday marked the day they visited Uncle Tommy. He was Mom’s younger brother, although Madelyn wasn’t sure how much younger—just a few years she thought, since he was a baby when his dad, her grandpa, went off to fight in World War II.

  Uncle Tommy lived in a group home because of his cerebral palsy. They often visited him there or at the sheltered workshop where he spent most of his days. After the half hour car ride, Madelyn loved being able to get out and stretch her legs, but mostly she liked the walk that took her straight into the workroom a few feet inside the front door. There a small group of adults with various disabilities was employed working on items for businesses.

  Every eye turned her way when they heard the sound of her shoes on the tile floor. As Uncle Tommy’s head came up from where he was bent over his work, his eyes lit up, and a crooked grin spread across his face. “Madly!” It was his name for her—much easier for him to say than the entire Madelyn. If anyone else called her that, she’d have been upset, but on his lips, it was perfect. He swung out of his chair and stood up to make his labored way to her. Madelyn used to rush to him to save him the trouble of moving across the floor, but one day he told her, “I can make it, Madly. You just be more patient.” Since then, she stopped as soon as he noticed her then patiently waited for him.

  Of course, that meant that someone else would usually reach her first. It was often Eliza or Annie, or both. “Madelyn, I see you,” Eliza said.

  “I see you, Eliza.” It’s what they always said to each other even though Eliza was legally blind. Her thick glasses merely kept her from running into things when she wasn’t using her white cane, which she hated. “It makes me look blind,” she’d say, not aware that her visual impairment was obvious with or without it. But she liked to pretend her sight was perfect, so whenever Madelyn was looking for someone or something, she always asked Eliza first. “Hey, do you know where Annie is?”

  “She right there,” Eliza said, pointing behind her without looking and not even close to where Madelyn could see Annie. “She comin’. She just slow today.”

  Slow or not, she still beat Uncle Tommy. When she reached Madelyn’s side, they wrapped each other in a big hug. Annie pulled back to reward her with a great, big grin. While Eliza was just over five feet tall—short by any standard—Annie was tiny, likely four and a half feet, but that would only be if you could straighten her up enough to take full measure of her height. Madelyn didn’t know if she was bent over from the ravages of time or if she was just born that way, probably a combination of the two.

  Annie had never said a word to Madelyn. She honestly didn’t know if Annie could speak at all. “How are you today?” Madelyn said. Annie half-closed her eyes. “Tired, huh?” She nodded. It had taken her a bit to figure out Annie, but once Madelyn did, she had no trouble communicating, words or no words. Apparently, Annie really was tired because she shuffled away, but rather than return to her workstation, she moved to the hallway. Madelyn watched as she made her way toward the breakroom where there was a couch she was particularly fond of napping on.

  By now, Mom, Jillian, and Daniel had joined Madelyn, and Uncle Tommy had at last arrived. His sandy colored hair was always slightly messy, a few stubborn cowlicks made certain of that, but he always tried to wet them down all the same. “Jilly, Danny, Sissy,” he said in turn as he doled out hugs. Madelyn didn’t know if he’d ever called Mom by her name Rachel. As long as she’d been around, Mom had just been “Sissy.” Finally, it was her turn. He bent down to give her a big hug. The contradiction of it always struck her—he was mentally stuck in childhood, yet he was taller than her dad. “How you, Madly?”

  Daniel started to snicker. “She’s mad, you know, crazy, just like her name.”

  Madelyn glared at him. Then to Uncle Tommy she said, “I’m just fine. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Want to see what I’m making?”

  “Of course I do.” It took them a while to make it back to his spot. He had several large bins around him. In one were small foam pillows, in another were blue covers, and in another still were his finished product—the foam pillows inside their blue
covers.

  “These is for airplanes. You know, in case airplanes get tired.” He burst out laughing.

  “Uncle Tommy, you made a joke,” Madelyn said, laughing along with him. For some reason, Uncle Tommy had a tremendous ability to surprise her. He couldn’t add two and two, but he could make jokes or understand when Madelyn was sad better than most people she knew. “Are you ready for lunch?” He nodded vigorously.

  During the summertime, they tried to time their visits during lunchtime. Much as Uncle Tommy loved their visits, he hated leaving his work. He was very conscientious about his job, and since he was paid piecemeal for whatever he did, stepping away from it was always hard for him to do. He may not have been able to add, but he understood the growing numbers in his bankbook and what they meant—a small measure of freedom in the form of going on shopping trips or visiting the commissary at his group home for extra snacks or treats. Often, he bought things for his nieces and nephew, saving them for the next time they came to visit.

  When the picnic lunch they brought was finished, Uncle Tommy said, “Thank you for lunch, Sissy. Can you stay?” He was usually reluctant to have them leave once they arrived, forgetting about all else but what was in front of him.

  “No, Tommy. It’s time for us to go. Don’t you want to get back to work?” Mom said.

  He brightened at the thought, but then his face clouded over again. “Where’s Pop Pop? I want to see Pop Pop.” He was talking about his own father, Madelyn’s grandfather.

  “I know you do, but Pop Pop can’t come. Remember, he lives too far away now.”