Three Bird Summer (10 page)

“Really?” Alice didn’t sound shocked or scared. Just open and patient — like she was ready to hear more.

It was strangely easy to talk.

“She’s been writing these crazy notes,” I said. “To my grandfather. Who’s been dead since before I was born! She thinks they’re, like, college kids again.”

“Wow,” Alice said. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “That’s so sad.”

“I guess,” I said.

“It must be heartbreaking to outlive your husband by that many years,” Alice went on. “And to still be missing him so intensely.”

“She’s just seems really, really confused,” I said. “In the notes, anyway. She’s better in person.”

“What does your mom think?” Alice asked.

“I haven’t actually told her,” I confessed. “I’m pretty sure Grandma only leaves the notes in my room, so Mom doesn’t know.”

“Really?” Alice said. “Only in your room?” She sounded intrigued. “Maybe she thinks you’re your grandfather!” she exclaimed.

“What?” I said.

“I mean, back when he was young,” Alice explained.

I stared at her in surprise. “No way,” I said, shaking my head.

“Come on, old people mix things up all the time — people, dates. My mom says so, and she should know. It’s her job,” Alice said. Alice explained that her mom worked with a lot of older patients as part of her nursing work back home. “So do you look like your grandfather? I mean, back when he was a kid?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “I don’t really know.” There was only one picture of my grandfather at the cabin, taken when he was about fifty and had a thick beard. It wasn’t a very useful comparison.

“I bet you do,” Alice said confidently. “And you’ve tripped up all her memory wires! Crazy!”

It was a pretty disturbing thought. “I doubt that’s what’s happening,” I said to Alice. “But if it is, what should I do? Try to tell Grandma that I’m not her dead husband?” I could just imagine how
that
would go.

Alice shook her head. “You said she’s better in person, so she probably doesn’t even remember writing the notes. So why upset her? I wouldn’t even tell your mom, if I were you. She’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Exactly,” I said. It was a huge relief to have Alice in agreement with me on that. “Hey,” I said, standing up and eyeing Alice’s inner tube. “Want to play aquatic basketball? Or lake golf?”

Alice laughed. “I would — whatever that means! But I promised my mom I’d be home in time for lunch. We made a plan to go
an-teek-ing
in Grass Lake.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Shopping for antiques,” Alice said with a grimace. “My mom’s obsession. But I’m free tomorrow. How about I come over around this time?”

“Sure,” I said. Now that I’d mentioned the lake games, I really wanted to play them.

Alice took a few steps down the ladder, then plopped back onto her inner tube. Getting herself into the right position wasn’t easy, and her skin made embarrassing squawking noises as she wriggled awkwardly against the tube. But she just laughed at herself. “This thing needs an outboard motor,” she said when she was finally set.

I gave her tube a shove with my foot. “And a muffler, maybe,” I added.

“Right,” she said.

She smiled and waved, then kicked her way home.

There was leftover pie at lunch and dinner, and I even managed to convince my mom and grandma to play a round of poker with me after dessert. We wagered popcorn kernels instead of money, which was too bad because I won a heap — something I never could have done if my dad or Uncle John had been playing with us.

No notes had appeared in my room all day. For a few sweet hours, it felt like the three of us had finally figured out how to have fun together — that things were going to get better and better now. But that night, not long after I’d fallen asleep, I was jolted awake by angry sounds from the living room.

“No! No! It’s not true!”

I heard rapid footsteps cross the hall and got up to follow. In the living room, Mom switched on a light and we saw Grandma at the windows, grasping the sill with her hand like it was a doorknob, turning and pressing, turning and pressing.

“Ma? Ma? What are you doing?” Mom asked, striding over.

“It’s not true!” Grandma called, pressing at the glass.

“Ma, you’ve had a dream,” Mom said, reaching out toward her.

My grandmother turned to look at her, and her eyes were startled, far away. “Dottie?”

Mom shook her head. “It’s me, Ma. Bobbie. Bobbie and Adam,” she said, gesturing in my direction. I gave my grandmother a slight wave.

“We’re here at the cabin. You’ve had a dream.”

“No, no, no,” Grandma said angrily. “It’s not a dream!”

“Ma, please,” Mom said. “Let’s get back to bed.”

“I don’t need to go back to bed!” Grandma said. She waved her off, but when Mom put her hand on Grandma’s shoulder, she stopped protesting and quieted down.

“Adam, why don’t you go get Grandma a glass of water,” Mom told me. She guided Grandma back toward her room.

I nodded, glad to have a job. I went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. By the time I got back to my grandmother’s door, my mother was already helping her into bed.

“You can just leave that here,” Mom said, gesturing at the bedside stand.

I set the glass on the table. “Good night, Grandma,” I said, before quickly leaving the room. I went back into my room and slipped under the covers.

When Mom came to check on me, I kept my eyes closed and didn’t move. But afterward, alone in the dark, I was awake for a long time, feeling grateful for once that my mom wasn’t away.

IN THE MORNING,
Grandma was making pancakes at the stove, just like always. I waited to see if she would say something about what had happened in the night, but if she remembered, she wasn’t going to admit it. It was possible that she and my mother had already had a conversation. Neither one was saying a word. Mom busied herself around the cabin, looking distracted and worried. I ate my usual breakfast and headed for the screen door.

“I’m going down to the dock,” I called.

Mom nodded, hardly seeming to hear me.

It was going to be another hot July day. The sun glinted off the water, and a pair of mallards winged across the sky. Alice paddled over in an inflatable rowboat, yellow with blue stripes. She was wearing just a bathing suit with a T-shirt over it.

“I’m ready for water basketball or lake golf and a lot of swimming,” she said as she climbed up the ladder to the dock.

“Let’s start with lake golf,” I said. “First we need golf clubs.” I headed to shore and scouted around under the pines until I found a couple of stout fallen branches.

“You want to gather the golf balls?” I asked Alice.

“Sure,” she said. “Where do you keep them?”

I bent down and picked up a fat little pinecone, dense enough to fly with the proper thwack. I held one up for Alice to see.

She grinned. “Got it,” she said, walking off and filling her hands with a mound of small cones. We dumped our supplies at the end of the dock, then I went back to the storage area and found three life jackets.

“These are our holes,” I said, holding up one of the life jackets and showing Alice how the head opening formed a perfect circle. “We’ll set them out in the water.”

“What happens if we miss?” Alice asked. “We can’t hit from the water, can we?”

“Nope,” I said. “Lake golf is all about the hole in one.”

I jumped into the lake and walked the life jackets out into deeper water. “If you miss it on your first shot, it’s the other person’s turn. First person to get all three shots wins.”

“OK,” said Alice. “I can handle that.”

The life jackets bobbed on top of the water, taunting us as we stood on the dock practicing our swings.

“I haven’t been to many driving ranges,” Alice said, swinging her pine branch with a graceful swivel.

“You’ve
been
to a driving range?” I asked. “You’ll be fine.”

Alice went first. Her first swing missed the pinecone completely. Her second swing sent the pinecone flying straight out across the water, and it came down halfway between two of the life jackets.

“Not bad,” I said. I hit my cone hard and watched it land in the water just inches from the closest life jacket.

“You’re good,” Alice said. She took a few more practice swings and lined up for her shot. This time she hit the pinecone so hard, it flew well over all of the life jackets. “Oops!”

“You’re going to take out a loon!” I told her.

She laughed. “I don’t know my own power!”

“You might want to switch to your putter,” I joked, nodding to her other branches.

“You just take care of your own game,” she said.

I placed my pinecone and eyed the middle life jacket, which had opened just slightly and now looked to have the biggest hole. I remembered the way my cousin Rocky kept his eye on the hole until the very last moment when his stick hit the ball. I swung, and the pinecone sailed up in the air and landed directly on top of the life jacket with a humiliating little
plip.

“That doesn’t count, does it?” Alice asked, suppressing a giggle.

I shook my head. “Not unless a dragonfly wants to come by and give me an assist.”

“I don’t think there are such things as assists in golf,” Alice said.

“This is lake golf,” I reminded her. “The rules are different.”

We played five more rounds before Alice hooked a shot straight into the nearest life jacket. I gave her a high five.

“I knew you’d sink the first one,” I told her.

“Beginner’s luck,” she said with a shrug.

To my relief, I managed to land a pinecone in two different life jackets on my next two swings. Unruffled, Alice hit her second hole in one on her next turn.

“Tie game,” I said. I looked down at our pinecone supply. “I think we need more golf balls.”

“Let’s get those!” Alice said, pointing to the cones that were now floating on top of the water. She was right — it was a perfect excuse to cool off. We jumped in and rounded up all the pinecones. As it happened, we needed every one we collected and then some, spending the next fourteen turns hitting our shots long, short, wide, and just generally off course. Alice’s theory was that the cones had absorbed a lot of water and we hadn’t yet adjusted to their new weight.

“Either that or we’re thinking too much,” she added, preparing for her next turn. She put down her stick, took a deep breath, and stretched her arms up in the air. Then, snapping her four fingers against her thumb like claws, she wiggled her whole torso and shook out her limbs.

“You look like a crayfish,” I said. “A weird dancing crayfish. What’s with the claws?”

She looked at her hands. “These are castanets!” she said. “I was trying to do flamenco.”

We laughed hard — so hard my stomach muscles began to ache. “You really think that’s going to help your golf game?” I sputtered.

“Totally,” she said. When she’d finally stopped laughing, she picked up her stick, placed her pinecone, took a swing, and sent the cone flying in a beautiful arc. It landed right in the center of her third life jacket hole. She’d just won the game.

“It worked! I can’t believe it,” I said.

She smiled. “Still want to make fun of my crayfish dance?” She put down her stick. “Now we have to swim again. It’s boiling out here!”

We jumped back into the lake and swam until Alice’s mother appeared on their dock and shouted that it was time for lunch.

“Hey, want to go canoeing tomorrow morning?” Alice asked before she headed home.

I hesitated. Was it weird for us to hang out every day? Would my mom and Grandma start to tease me about it?

“Please,” Alice begged. “My mom’s having her new quilting club over for the entire morning. I can’t stay home!”

“OK,” I said. “I can come over after breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Alice said. “You’re the best.”

I had no idea how to respond. It wasn’t something anyone had ever said to me before. At least not a girl. “If you say so,” I finally mumbled, but Alice was already out of hearing range.

Back in the cabin, Mom and Grandma had just sat down to lunch. If they’d noticed me and Alice on the dock, they didn’t say anything about it. In fact, they didn’t say anything at all. They just chewed and swallowed, looking tense. Outside with Alice, I’d almost forgotten about Grandma’s confusion the night before. But when she went back to her room to nap, Mom cornered me in the kitchen.

“Please sit down for a minute,” she said. She lowered her voice. “We need to talk about Grandma.”

“What?” I asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” she said irritably. “You saw her last night.”

I looked at her without responding.

“She was completely delusional!” Mom said.

“She was dreaming, Mom. You said it yourself.” I didn’t know why I was downplaying what had happened. I’d been freaked out last night, too. But now I felt like defending Grandma — maybe because she wasn’t around to speak up for herself.

“I’m worried, Adam,” she said. “I’ve never seen her like that before. Did she behave at all strangely while I was away? Or have you heard her wandering around at night on other occasions?”