The Charm Bracelet (14 page)

“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 interlocking 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.”

Lolly heard the jangling and knew what it was before she saw it.

“I can't!”

“She wanted you to have it,” he said, laying Vi's charm bracelet on Lolly's stomach. “Her memories are yours now. But you know what?”

Lolly shook her head.

“Now, you have to make some of your own. She wanted your bracelet to be as full as hers someday. But that means you have to get out in the world again and have some fun. Just like she wanted.”

Lolly looked up at her father. He kissed her gently on top of her head.

Lolly gave her father a weak smile and held her mother's bracelet over her head. It shimmered and sparkled, and suddenly Lolly could see her mother's face, smiling down on her, as she had when Lolly was little, and the charm bracelet had seemed like an incredible mobile dancing above her.

“Would you help me put it on, Daddy?” Lolly asked, holding out the bracelet and her wrist.

Her father fastened his wife's bracelet around his daughter's wrist. “I'll always be here to help you, my baby,” he said, giving her a hug.

As soon as her mother's bracelet was secure, Lolly felt safer and stronger, as if her mother were here in the room hugging her tightly.

“I have two charm bracelets,” Lolly said, shaking both her wrists. “I have double Mommy.”

“Maybe you can find a best friend to share your charms with,” Vern said. “When you're ready, you get outside and be a kid again. Deal?”

Lolly hesitated. “Deal.”

The next morning, Vern made blueberry pancakes, Lolly's favorite. “Feel like going outside today?” he asked, drizzling maple syrup on a large stack of cakes.

Lolly took a bite of her pancakes and looked seriously at her father. “I think so, Daddy,” she said.

After breakfast, Lolly stepped onto the screened porch and took in Lost Land Lake. The finches—as yellow as the sun—still gathered at her mother's bird feeders, chirping happily; her mother's hydrangeas—in varying shades of blue, pink, and red—rocked in the morning breeze; the dock where Lolly and her mother exchanged charms, dangled their feet, shared s'mores, and dreamed about the future, still jutted far into the lake; and Lost Land still shimmered in the summer sun.

Lolly caught her breath and willed herself not to cry.

It's not fair!
Lolly thought.

Lolly wanted to go back in time. She could feel the tears coming, so she closed her eyes, to shut out the world. And that's when she heard “Mr. Sandman.”

Lolly and her mother had loved that song. They had sung it together when she was sick, when they had prayed for a miracle, a dream.

Lolly flew off the porch, the screen door banging behind her.

A little boy with short black hair was facing the lake, about four cabins down, hunched over, as if in deep prayer, singing and humming.

“That's my favorite song, too,” Lolly said. “What's your name?”

“Jo! Why?” the boy said in a startled voice, before spinning around hurriedly, like he was about to get in trouble.

Lolly didn't mean to, but she giggled. There, in front of her, sat a little girl with a ragged pixie cut.

“Jo, without an
e,
” she explained, already seeing the look on Lolly's face. “Jo Roseberry. And it's okay. Everybody thinks I'm a boy. My dad wanted a boy. I'm named after Joe DiMaggio.”

“My dad likes Joltin' Joe, too,” Lolly said, extending her hand, as her mother had taught her to do when she met someone. “Hi! I'm Lolly. Lolly Dobbs.”

Jo's dark eyes filled with storminess, and she nervously turned away, her gaze scanning the lake. “Everyone's talkin' about your family,” she said. “I'm real sorry about your mom.”

Lolly had heard those words—over and over, at the visitation, the church, the funeral, when townsfolk brought over pies and casseroles—but they sounded so different coming from a little girl her own age. To Lolly, the words sounded genuine, and not rehearsed, for the first time.

“Me, too,” Lolly said. She shut her blue eyes to keep the tears at bay, but when she opened them, Jo was standing and facing her. “You can cry if you want. Sometimes, it helps when I cry. I don't mind.”

Lolly began to heave with all the force of a sudden summer thunderstorm, before Jo reached out and hugged Lolly, holding her, letting her tears soak the shoulder of her jumper.

“My mom says tears are just too much emotion, like when the bathtub overfills,” Jo said, whispering into Lolly's ear and patting her back. “And she says hugs are like Band-Aids.”

For once, Lolly didn't feel the need to act brave for anyone, or to apologize for her sadness.

As Lolly held on to her new friend, she finally saw—just over Jo's shoulder—something on the ground.

“What is that?” Lolly asked. “Is that what you were working on while you were singing?”