The Four Seasons (38 page)

Ann Season, with her red-blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, was crouched down beside Merry. One arm was wrapped protectively around her baby, the other clutched the metal pool ladder for balance. Jilly was flamboyantly perched high on one
of the ladder steps, one arm around her mother's shoulders. Birdie was hanging off the other side of the ladder, one arm out as if embracing the world. Rose sat demurely on the top step, right below Merry, beaming at the camera with her wide-eyed innocence. The Season family resemblance was powerful—the varying shades of red hair, the pale skin freckled in the sun, the magnetic smiles. The one emotion that poured out from the photograph was joy.

It filled Birdie's heart with sadness. “I never saw this one. Who put that in here?”

“I've never seen it before, either,” replied Rose. “It must've been Mother. She's the only one who could have. We gave her our treasures to put into the box and she sealed it.”

Jilly took her turn to study the picture and felt a stab in her gut when she saw her arm around her mother. They were so close then. When she was thirteen, her mother was her hero.

Rose dipped into the box again. All that was left were several pastel envelopes. On seeing them, Jilly and Birdie put their hands to their mouths and shifted back in their seats.

“Oh, God, I forgot about those,” said Jilly, her voice soft.

“I think I spilled out my guilt to write that and sealed it away.”

“But we didn't seal the guilt away,” Jilly said. “That's what I've been realizing ever since this search began. It's like memories. They're always there, like these letters, sealed inside of ourselves. Come on, we've gone this far. We might as well open them.”

“I don't remember these,” Rose said, perplexed. “I remember everything else, but not these. What are they?”

“I can't believe that you of all people don't remember this,” Birdie said. “It all started when Mom gathered us together to tell us that Merry was coming home from the hospital.”

Jilly remembered the scene as vividly as though it had just happened.

The girls were seated on the living room sofa in a row, their legs hanging over the edge and their hands in their laps. They knew this was a very serious discussion and no one dared utter a peep.

“I want to explain to you what's happened to Merry,” Ann Season told them in her most serious voice. She was sitting with her knees together and her hands clasped tight in her lap. Her face was pale and strained and her eyes were red. “Merry won't be coming back to us quite the same. She's had some lung damage from all the water she took in. She can breathe all right now, but…” Her voice trailed away as she yanked a tissue out from the cuff of her dress and dabbed at her eyes.

Jilly sneaked a glance at Birdie. Both wondered if their mother would make it through the discussion without dissolving into tears. She'd been crying a lot since the accident, long into the night, and nothing seemed to console her.

When she began again, the strain made funny lines on her smooth face. “Her brain is not the same, either,” she said a bit shakily. “The water damaged that, too. She'll still be our own dear Merry, but she won't grow up the same as you will. She'll always be a little girl. Do you understand?”

“Will her body grow up?” Birdie wanted to know.

“Yes, but her brain will still be a child's.”

“Merry is retarded?” Jilly blurted out as understanding slowly dawned on her. The word burst from her mouth, striking fear into her sister's faces. How could someone in her family be retarded? She wasn't born that way, how could that happen now?

Her mother bristled. “We're never to use that word in this house. Never! Is that understood?”

Jilly had a thousand questions in her mind, but she knew
she'd never be able to ask her mother a single one. Not ever. They all nodded meekly.

“I still don't remember,” Rose said, looking at the time capsule. “I must've blocked it out.”

“After mother told us that Merry wasn't going to grow up,” Jilly continued, “we decided to dedicate our own adulthood to Merry. The one we lost for her. Can you imagine?”

“That's so sweet, actually,” Rose murmured, her eyes glistening.

“So we came up with the idea of the letter.”

“Not a letter, actually,” Birdie interjected. “More a form letter. That was my idea,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Let's do it.” Jilly reached for the envelopes, handing one with Birdie's name on it to her, then one to Rose, and kept her own. The final one was of the thick Crane's stationery that their mother had always used. It was addressed To the Four Seasons in their mother's handwriting.

“Oh, boy,” Birdie said, looking at it. “I sure didn't expect to see that in here.”

“A letter from Mom?” Rose asked, incredulous.

“Let's hold off on this one,” Jilly said with an edge in her voice. She set it down on the table, far away from her.

Then she opened her own letter. She saw in her own handwriting a simple sentence, like the form letter Birdie had described. Seeing it, she recalled the care and precision she'd undertaken to write it. Jilly laid the single sheet of paper on the table for her sisters to see.

I want to be an actress when I grow up. I dedicate this to you.

“I remember now,” Rose said, deeply moved. She hurried to open her own and lay it on the table.

I want to be an explorer when I grow up. I dedicate this to you.

Birdie looked at the two dedications side by side, then smiled in bittersweet recollection. She opened hers and set it down beside the others.

I want to be a mother when I grow up. I dedicate this to you.

Jilly looked at Birdie with new eyes. “A mother? That's what you wanted to be? I would have thought a doctor or an astronaut or something like that. You had such big dreams.”

“I know,” Birdie replied in a far-off voice. “But this was my greatest dream.” She looked at them and shrugged lightly with a crooked smile. “So? I always wanted to be a mother.”

Jilly wondered if she would have made fun of Birdie's dream, had she known, or perhaps teased her for picking something so unimaginative. Probably. Now that she was a mother, she understood better. “I guess your dream came true.”

“But I almost lost it. I'm very lucky. Your dream came true, too, Jilly. You became an actress.”

“Rather cryptic, wouldn't you say? I started acting about the time I wrote that.”

“I forgot that I wanted to be an explorer,” Rose said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Me of all people. The one who never even left our family home.” She looked away from them. “I guess I never fulfilled my dream.”

“But you did!” countered Birdie. “You explore the world on the Internet. You collect stamps from every country. You have the heart of an explorer, Rose.”

“Absolutely,” Jilly agreed. “And tomorrow is your greatest adventure.”

“DannyBoy,” Rose whispered.

“We'll be with you every step of the way,” Birdie said.

“Come on, Rose,” Jilly urged, seeing Rose's slender shoulders begin to slump. “Lead the way! We've come a long way together on this journey. You said it yourself. We can't just go
back to the way things were. We've come home at last and like good ol' Odysseus we have to slay the enemies. Pull back the arrow and let fly at that fear and indecision.”

“But I'm not that brave.”

“Yes, you are,” Birdie said with emphasis, picking up the slip of paper with Rose's childlike handwriting spelling out her dedication. She handed it to Rose.

I want to be an explorer. I dedicate this to you.

“Hoisted on my own petard,” she joked, laughing at herself. This was her dedication to Merry. She felt an overpowering resolve not to let her sister down a second time. She bent to pick up the other two pieces of pale blue stationery from the table. She handed one to Jilly and the other to Birdie, then looked at them with challenge sparkling in her eyes.

“If I can do it, so can you. In 1969 we dedicated our futures to Merry. It's 1999. Let's renew our dedication starting this very moment.”

They held their dedications out so that they all touched in the circle between them. “To Merry!”

 

They talked and talked until Rose's head was bobbing to her chest, yet each knew that they hadn't even scratched the surface. The topic of Merry's near-drowning had only been broached. They hadn't yet had time to individually process it. That would take much more time and many more conversations. But for tonight, they were exhausted.

“I've got to go to bed,” Rose said, stretching her arms high into the air. “I'm falling asleep here. And I've a busy morning.”

“Me, too. Hannah's probably wondering where I am.”

“Okay, let's call it a day,” Jilly said. She yawned noisily and dragged herself up from the sofa to walk her sisters to the
door. “I'll see you both tomorrow, then. What time are you meeting Danny?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Okay,” she said, yawning again. “I'll be ready, I pray. God, I'm exhausted. We've been through the mill.” She leaned forward. “Good night, my honeys.”

They kissed on the cheeks and Jilly knew that no matter what pain or sorrow might erupt as they worked through their problems, their connection as sisters was indestructible. They were family. Shared blood ran through their veins. All this she understood in her sisters' touch.

“Go ahead, Rose,” Birdie said as Rose left the room. “I want to ask Jilly something.” She waited while Rose padded down the hall to her room, then turned to face Jilly again, her face pensive. She closed the door and leaned against it, staring at her feet.

Jilly knew this moment had to come and welcomed it. When Birdie lifted her head, Jilly saw a fragility there she'd not seen before.

“I'm sorry, Jilly. I was horrible to you yesterday.”

Jilly's mouth opened in a gasp. This was far more than she'd expected to hear. “You weren't horrible. You had a shock. You were reacting.”

“Overreacting. I do that.” She looked upward and closed her eyes. “Jilly, I was so angry at you. And Dennis. I couldn't see past the red haze in my eyes. What frightens me more than anything is to realize how uncontrolled it was. I was blinded by rage. After I left you, I called Dennis to tell him that it was over between us. I wanted to punish him like I wanted to punish you.”

“Oh, Birdie, you didn't.”

“Let me finish. I tried to call him, but he didn't answer the
phone.” She shook her head. “Thank God for small favors. When I think I could've ruined everything with one swipe of my tongue. But the anger still boiled and this morning I wanted to prove to you and the world that I was still in control. I was going to do my duty—just to show I could—then get in the car and never see you again. And I was damned if I was going to give this child of yours and Dennis's a penny of Merry's money.” She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair as she collected her thoughts.

“Then Lauren fell into the pool.” She released a short laugh of wonder and shook her head with disbelief. “It was déjà vu. I was eleven years old again, given a second chance to save Merry. I was holding that child in my arms and all my training clicked in. It was like I'd spent a lifetime preparing for this one moment. I was zoned. It was exhilarating.” She looked again at Jilly and her expression shifted from triumphant to reflective.

“But when I saw her face, I suddenly realized that this wasn't Merry. It was Lauren. Little Lauren, with her own face and mind and soul. This was yours and Dennis's and my family. I felt a connection with her that was blood deep. Visceral. All I knew was that I loved her and I had to save
her
. You were right, Jilly. This anger I felt wasn't about the child at all. It's inside me and it's poisoning so many of my relationships. It leaves so little room for compassion.” She reached up to wipe a tear from her face. “That's no way to live. I have to get over it. I may need some help, I don't know. But I realized something today dredging up all those murky memories. I can't change the past. I can't take the hurt back. But I can soften it if I can just learn how to accept it.”

Jilly reached up to wrap her arms around her sister.

Birdie held her tight, and she spoke in a rush. “I don't want to lose you, Jilly. Not again. I just can't. That's the
bottom line. You're my sister and I love you and I don't care what I have to deal with, I'll do it. But I
won't lose
what we've found again.”

“We won't,” Jilly replied, holding just as tight. “We won't. I promise. We love each other, and that'll get us through.”

“I love Dennis, too,” Birdie said, moving away and mopping her face with her palms. “To be honest, it's going to be hard for me to reconcile that you and Dennis have a child. It's going to take time for me to get used to the idea.”