“Great,” she said. “Thanks.”
She gave a little wave and started up the wooden stairs to the cabin, although she couldn’t imagine what she would do when she got there.
3
Beth sat at the head of the table, drowning in Bernadette’s terry-cloth robe. In spite of the heat, Bernadette had put Beth in a steamy bath and swaddled her in the bathrobe.
“Let’s go outside and play,” said Pinky, who shared the title “Most Quiet” with Beth. His request was ignored.
Bernadette reached into a cupboard and pulled out a snack pack of sugared cereals.
“Hey, Mom, you made breakfast after all,” Chuck said.
Feeling sorry for Pinky, Grace addressed her little brother. “Pinky, you can go out after you have something to eat, okay?” He didn’t need permission but, after Beth’s excursion, Grace didn’t think he should roam around by himself so soon.
Grace looked at the clock. It was only nine forty-five. She had already rescued her little sister. She knew that a boy named Frankie was staying at the cabin next door. What would she do with the rest of the day?
Polly looked up from her Sugar Pops. “Let’s play cards after breakfast,” she said.
“That’s an evening activity,” Grace said.
“As if you’ve ever been at a cabin in your life,” said Chuck, who had been drinking milk from the bottom of his cereal bowl.
“I know these things,” Grace answered, drumming her fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You play cards in the evening. You swim in the afternoon.”
“What do you do in the morning?” Polly asked.
Grace dug around in her brain for an answer. “You walk into town for supplies.”
“What supplies?” said Chuck.
“You know, snacks. Hot dog buns.”
No one seemed to know whether or not this was a fact of cabin life.
“Ma,” Chuck ventured, eyeing Grace with suspicion, “how far is that town we came through?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Bernadette said as she filled a thermos with coffee. “Maybe six, seven miles.”
“So much for swimming this afternoon,” Chuck said. “You’ll be walking all day.”
Grace did the math. One mile, about twenty minutes. Six miles, two hours. Add a little for Bernadette’s underestimating. “Most people build cabins closer to town than this so that they can walk for supplies when the roads aren’t clear,” she said.
“So it’s the cabin’s fault that we can’t walk to town and back in the morning?” asked Polly.
“No, it’s Grace’s fault for making things up,” Chuck said.
“Forget it,” said Grace. “Don’t come to me when you’ve all died of boredom by lunchtime.” She glared at Polly. “Go hang out with Chuck if you don’t like my ideas.”
“Come on, Grace, tell us what to do,” Polly pleaded. “Just tell us what to do if we’re not going to walk into town.”
“Well,” Grace said, rolling her eyes. “I had no idea we would be cut off from civilization. Let’s move on to another plan.”
“A lemonade stand?” suggested Beth.
“Great idea,” Chuck said. “There’s so much traffic out here.”
Grace reached into her memory and saw the bag of bruised lemons that she had carried to the car yesterday. Mr. Waltham, their next-door neighbor at home, managed a grocery store and regularly offered Bernadette the past-its-prime produce.
“That is a great idea, Bethie. We’ll make lemonade for the Hales. We’ll say it’s a thank-you for helping save you this morning.”
“Bernadette, did you bring the lemon squeezer?” Grace called through the open porch window to where her mother had moved with the thermos and a pile of magazines.
“No, but there’s one in the cupboard where the coffee was, over the sink,” Bernadette called back.
“Polly, get that squeezer and look for a strainer,” Grace ordered. “And measuring cups. And sugar. And pitchers.”
Polly folded her arms across her chest. “What are you going to do?”
“Pol, get cracking. I am the recipe. Two to three lemons per half cup of sugar. Et cetera. Let’s go.”
Polly squeezed the lemons because she was stronger than Pinky or Beth. Pinky carefully poured the lemon juice into the strainer that Beth held solemnly over the pitcher. Grace measured the sugar.
“Chuck, get the ice,” Grace ordered. “We’ll reduce the water and add cubes so it’s cold.”
“I tried to get the trays out last night. They were stuck to the freezer.”
“Pinky,” Grace said, “go help Chuck get the ice cube trays out.”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Chuck grumbled, getting up from his chair.
The lemons yielded two full pitchers plus a little extra that Grace saved in a saucepan.
“Beth and I will take a pitcher over now,” Grace said, choosing the one that didn’t have as many nicks in the glass.
“I’m going, too,” said Chuck.
“You are not. This is about Beth and me.”
“I don’t want to go,” Beth said, looking alarmed.
“The lemonade is from us, Bethie.” Grace imagined Frankie appearing at his door and inviting her in. Her stomach was Butterfly Central.
“We made the lemonade, too,” Polly said.
“Next time, your show. We’ll be right back.”
Grace and Beth walked through long grass that tickled their bare feet and ankles. The grass in front of the Hales’ cabin was newly cropped by a push mower that rested in the shade of a tilting pine.
Grace knocked on the screen door. A chair scraped the floor in response. Footsteps advanced. Grace’s stomach lurched. Mr. Tom Hale, Frankie’s dad, opened the door.
“Hello. What can I do for you young ladies?”
“We made lemonade because we had a lot of lemons,” said Grace, aware of stating the obvious. “It’s a thank-you to Frankie for the rescue this morning.”
“You’re looking well,” Frankie’s dad said to Beth. He faced Grace. “The lemonade looks great. Frankie and my dad are out trolling. We’ll have some of this when they get back.”
“Okay, then. See you.”
“See you,” Beth whispered so softly that only Grace heard.
Grace and Beth backtracked through the clipped grass to taller grass. Grace felt as if she had gone to a birthday party and left the gift without going inside. What had she expected? That Frankie would be watching for her at the window? She wanted to hide in her room, but she didn’t have one.
On the porch, Bernadette stood up and stretched. “After lunch, we’re going into town to see Hilda and Gunda,” she announced. “We should go visit them a couple of times as long as we’re up here.”
“I can’t go,” Chuck replied. He sat at the table in front of a pile of little cereal boxes. “My stomach hurts.”
Grace rolled her eyes.
“We’re all going,” Bernadette said.
“Really, Ma, I think I have the stomach flu or something.”
“The stomach flu you got from eating until you’re full up to your fat face,” Grace said.
“Okay, okay. It’ll be easier if you two aren’t at each other’s throats,” said Bernadette. “Chuck, you can stay here, but you’re on next time.”
“I just want to lie down.”
Grace glared at Chuck as he smirked behind Bernadette’s back.
“Do those people have any children?” Pinky asked.
Grace looked at him. Pinky was the palest of her siblings, the blue veins under his eyes apparent through the milky skin. Why wasn’t his nickname Bluey?
“Jeez, no,” said Bernadette. “Gunda is Hilda’s kid, but she’s older than me. Gunda isn’t right in the head. But Hilda is Grandma’s sister, so we gotta go.”
“Who?” Chuck said.
“Dang it, Chuck. Whose kid are you? We covered this on the way up here. Hilda is my aunt. Her kid is Gunda, my cousin.”
“Whose cabin is th
is?”
“Moron,” Grace mouthed at him.
“Chuck, wake up,” said Bernadette. “Who built this joint? I told you.”
“Grandpa Olav?” Chuck answered.
“My Grandpa Olav. Who did he build it for?”
“You?”
“I wasted my breath,” she said, blowing smoke out of her nose. “Gracie, who did my grandpa build this cabin for?”
“His three daughters. Our grandma. Aunt Hilda, who we’re going to see. And Aunt Marie.”
“Right,” said Bernadette, walking to the refrigerator and looking inside. She reached in for a can of pop. “Why is it mine now, Gracie?”
“Grandma died a long time ago. Aunt Marie lived in the cabin during the summer, but she died last year. Aunt Hilda never wanted the cabin, and you’re the only kid from those three sisters. Except for Gunda.”
What would Aunt Marie think about her niece, who had inherited the cabin? Would she like the way Bernadette looked when she wore her red bandanna that matched her red, red lips, or the pedal pushers so tight that her underpants line showed?
“Aunt Marie was nervous around kids,” Bernadette said through a big puff of smoke. “I brought you and Chuck up here before Polly was born, Gracie. Marie couldn’t relax.”
“Why doesn’t Gunda get some cabin time?” Chuck asked.
“Bernadette just told you,” said Grace. “Gunda never grew up. Something’s wrong in her head.” A long time ago Grace had seen a picture of Gunda. It was disturbing.
Bernadette moved in the direction of her bedroom. She paused in front of Grace and looked serious. It didn’t suit her.
“Gracie, thanks for watching out for Bethie.”
“It’s my job.” But Beth had floated away because she, Grace, had given her permission to go in the lake.
“Right.” Bernadette tapped a long ash onto Jefferson’s face in the Mount Rushmore ashtray that sat on the countertop.
“But it shouldn’t be my job.” For the first time, the enormity of her decision to let Beth go struck Grace with force.
Bernadette turned and laughed without smiling. “I wish you wouldn’t give me so much grief, Gracie. Lighten up.”
A life-and-death decision, left up to her. If Bernadette accused Grace of negligence, she accused herself as well. Grace turned her back on Bernadette, sat down at the table, and pulled Beth’s tablet with the lined paper to her. She picked up the pencil and, to quell her anger, began to calculate how long it would take her to walk home.
4
In town, Bernadette pulled up in front of a dark gray house that almost abutted the sidewalk. A thin strip of matted brown grass fronted it and spread around the sides.
“I don’t like the way this house looks,” said Pinky, who worried about almost everything. He rolled up his window as if to protect himself.
“We can wait outside for you,” Polly said to Bernadette. “We’ll be right here when you come out.”
“Maybe it’s the wrong place,” Pinky said, face pressed to the window.
“Let’s go,” said Bernadette, sliding out of the driver’s seat. “C’mon, Pinky. Bethie, you, too.”
“Did you tell her we’re coming?” Grace asked, opening the back door slowly.
“Hilda never had a phone. If she has one now, it’s news to me.”
Everyone lined up behind Bernadette, with Grace at the end behind Polly.
“Hey, Pol, at least I can get away if she comes out swinging an ax,” Grace said.
“This is the worst vacation I’ve ever had,” Polly said.
“What do you mean, the worst? We’ve never had any.”
“When I have children, I’ll take them to Disneyland every year.”
Grace thought of telling Polly that her children wouldn’t like her anyway. Polly was such an easy target. Chuck had a thick hide. Pinky and Beth were too innocent. It was a waste of time to spar with Bernadette. She always turned it back on you.
Bernadette knocked a second time, causing Polly to recoil and suck in her breath. The door creaked open.
“Hilda, it’s Bernadette. I brought some company for you,” Bernadette blared at the slight figure wearing a bib apron. “A carful of bad children.”
“Oh, my goodness,” a thin voice replied. “Bernadette and her babies.”
“If you let us in, you’ll see there isn’t a baby in the bunch. Just big, spoiled kids.” Bernadette crossed the threshold, towing Beth with her. Pinky followed stiffly. Grace pushed Polly from behind. Polly didn’t try to swat Grace’s arms away because she needed her own hands to shield herself from whatever might be inside the house.
Hilda stood in the center of the living room as everyone filed in. Lined with two rockers and a variety of stuffed chairs, the room seemed to harbor invisible people. A shudder raced down Grace’s spine.
Seen from the side, Hilda’s body looked as if it were trying to make an upside-down U. The hump in her back forced her trunk to curve downward. Her head resembled a turtle’s, peeking up out of its shell.
“Sit down, please sit down,” said Hilda.
“Where’s Gunda?” Bernadette asked, dropping into a plump chair.
“She takes a little nap after lunch. She’s in her bedroom.”
“Lunch. We forgot all about it.”
“I have crackers,” Hilda said. “I’ll get some crackers for the children.”
She started toward the kitchen area at the back of the house, then stopped and turned around. “I want to take a good look at the children first, Bernadette. You sent a photograph a few years ago. I don’t see your oldest boy.”
“Chuck isn’t here. Grace is the oldest one in this bunch.”
Grace moved her hand up to shoulder height and wiggled her fingers at Hilda. The rest of her didn’t seem to work.
“That’s Polly, then Pinky, then Beth.” Bernadette pointed at her children, none of whom moved or uttered a word.
“They’re lovely children, Bernadette, lovely children.” Hilda smiled so that her wrinkles deepened. “Now I’ll go get those crackers.”
She moved slowly to the little kitchen. The living room, tiny dining area, and kitchen ran together as one large room. The two closed doors on the left side of the house must be the bedrooms, Grace guessed, and Gunda occupied one of them. Illuminated at the back window, Hilda could be seen as she peered at the countertop covered with canisters and tins.
I can’t breathe, Grace thought. Was it Hilda or the smells of cabbage and lotion mingling in the heat?
“You’re a little more stooped than I remember,” Bernadette called to Hilda. “But you’re moving around pretty good.”
Stooped? Was Bernadette blind? The woman was flat-out crooked.
“I do just fine,” Hilda called back. “I’m very fortunate to have my health.”
What if Hilda talked to her? Grace would have to crouch to make eye contact. Hilda returned, bearing a dinner plate piled with saltines and slices of cheese.
“Please, children, sit down,” Hilda said. “Help yourself to some crackers.” Hilda’s turtle head paused in front of Grace, who had seated herself in a rocker.
“Would you like a cracker, dear?” she said. Hilda had a sweet, coaxing smile and a knot of gray hair, which unfortunately was in the wrong position at the back of her head.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Grace, wondering if taking one cracker from the plate would throw Hilda off balance.
Polly, Pinky, and Beth each took a cracker and a piece of cheese from Hilda, who put the plate on a hassock.
“So, how’s things?” Bernadette said, leaning over and scooping up a handful of saltines.
“Can we play outside?” Polly squeaked in an unrecognizable voice before Hilda could answer Bernadette.
“Oh, yes, let them play outside,” said Hilda. “I don’t have very much for children to do in here. They seem to be such very nice children.”
“They’re okay some days. Go outside if you want to, kids. Don’t stray, especially yo
u, Bethie. Don’t float away on me again.”
Everyone crowded behind Grace, who tugged at the door a couple of times before it opened.
“I’m not going back in there,” said Polly after she had pulled the door shut. “It’s too weird.”
“Do you ever go out in the world?” Grace asked. “Are you afraid of people just because they’re old?”
“Grace, you know it’s scary in there. Everything smells funny. I think I smelled liniment.”
“Polly, you wouldn’t know what liniment smelled like if you stepped in it.”
Pinky and Beth lowered themselves to the ground, listening and quietly placing little sticks in the sidewalk cracks.
“What is liniment?” Beth asked.
“It’s something that old people put on their skin,” said Grace.
“That’s hand lotion,” Pinky said.
“It’s a lotion with medicine in it for sore bones and things,” Grace continued. “I saw some at Margaret’s grandma’s house. It looked like colored Vaseline.”
“I bet you fifty cents that there’s liniment in there,” said Polly.
“Hurry up, then, and find it. Bernadette isn’t going to camp here.”
“I don’t want to come back,” said Pinky. “Next time I’m going fishing with Chuck.”
Why was Pinky the only one who had thought of fishing? Grace didn’t mention that Chuck hated having Pinky tag along.
“Here’s an idea. Don’t tell Chuck what it’s like. Let him think that he wants to come here with Bernadette.”
Polly was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Grace, you’re mean to me.”
“Just some of the time. I’m meaner to Chuck.”
“I want to give you a compliment, but you don’t deserve it.”
“What compliment?”
“Your idea about not telling is so good.”
“Polly, you have potential.”
“Grace—” Polly began.
“No no no. You’re going to get sentimental on me. Leave it alone.”
Pinky and Beth stared at their sisters as if trying to decode the conversation.
“What about them?” Polly asked, nodding at Pinky and Beth.
“I’ll take care of them. I understand the junior set. You have a mission.”
Grace Above All (Fesler-Lampert Minnesota Heritage) Page 2
