The Summer That Made Us

by Robyn Carr

  “And my mother is so much happier. So what is it?”

  “What do you mean?” Charley asked.

  “You’ve grown moodier every day and you’ve checked your phone about a hundred times.”

  “It’s nothing, really...”

  “Oh, it’s something. Wanna talk about it?”

  Charley sighed. “It’s probably going to sound completely stupid. I’m not even sure how it happened. It’s Michael. Michael and me, probably mostly me. I lost my job. When you lose a job in television the defeat is so public. And there was no warning. I never even sensed it was coming and I was so wounded. I was shattered. I felt like I had a rock in my gut and sandpaper in my throat. I wanted to scream and cry and I couldn’t. At the very same time Meg was getting ready for her cell transplant, one last-ditch effort at getting her beyond metastasized cancer. Her odds of surviving were not great. And Michael’s reaction? He decided it was a good time to get married!”

  Krista’s eyebrows shot up.

  “After twenty-two years and what anyone would call a successful relationship, he thought he could cure my joblessness and my sister’s disease by marrying me.” She shrugged. “So we fought. And fought. Men—they’re fixers, you know. He wasn’t listening to me. He wasn’t thinking about what was happening to me. He said he was fifty-four and he didn’t want to die and leave behind a girlfriend. It made no sense and his timing couldn’t have been worse.”

  “When was this?” Krista asked.

  “My show was canceled in March. Megan was having her bone marrow transplant at about the same time. I was so brokenhearted and angry, I said I’d go to Minnesota to stay with Meg, that maybe we needed some time apart. And he said, ‘Maybe we do.’”

  “But you’ve talked to him, haven’t you?”

  “Sure. And to Eric. But so often when I talked to Michael we’d argue. No, it was worse than arguing. He kept asking if I’d reconsidered. Or maybe he wouldn’t and so I’d say, ‘At least you didn’t ask if I’d reconsidered,’ and he would say, ‘Why bother? You’ve made yourself clear.’ And it would crash from there.”

  “Man, it sounds kind of silly,” Krista said.

  “Thanks,” Charley said.

  “You’ve been with him twenty-two years, you have a kid together... When he asked you to get married did you by any chance say, ‘What’s the rush?’”

  “It wasn’t that I was offended by his proposal. It was the way he did it. I said I felt like my life was over and he said, ‘We might as well get married, then.’ Don’t you see—it was my crisis and he made it about him.”

  “He probably stupidly thought knowing he wanted to make an even bigger commitment might make you feel better.”

  “Yeah, maybe he did.”

  “What an idiot,” Krista said.

  “You understand?”

  “No, I don’t understand!” she said loudly. “Look, I don’t know anything about relationships, especially boy-girl relationships, but you probably should have tabled the conversation for a while. Instead of saying no, you probably should have asked for a little time to get over the current crisis before thinking about a wedding. I mean, it’s not likely you’d say no, is it? After this many years?”

  “As a matter of fact, I wrote him a letter. A real written letter and not a text or an email, and I said I’d do whatever he wanted. If he still wanted me.”

  “Wow. I bet that just melted him.”

  “Krista!”

  “Seriously? You said, ‘Okay, whatever you want.’ Did you add, ‘Even though it’ll kill me,’ just like your mother did with my mother about going to the lake? Really, your side of the family has some serious sticks up your asses. My side is nuts but your side? Do you have to have everything your way?” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t do well in prison. You know why I love you, Charley? You’re one of the most generous, loving people I know. You’re commitment driven as long as you feel in control. But you’re a tad inflexible.”

  “He hasn’t called me. He would have gotten the letter a few days ago and he hasn’t called.” She looked at her phone again. “Or anything.”

  “Well, thanks, you just helped me think through a kind of heavy issue of my own. Jake has asked me to consider staying at Lake Waseka after you all have closed up the house and gone. He offered to help me find something small and close to rent. He doesn’t exactly have his own place—he stays at the lodge. He gets his room and meals on the company so there’s no point in him wasting his money on rent. He’s saving to build a house here, but when is the mystery. Anyway, I said I thought it was too soon to make any kind of commitment—we’ve only known each other about two and a half months. But now I think maybe we should try that. He promised to help me with my transportation issues so I can make appointments, run errands and, on cold, snowy days, have a ride to work. I think, yes, I should see if what I believe about him is true—that he’s a very fine man. He treats people very well. I have that red flag thing down. I’m not missing anything. And what’s the worst thing that can happen? I can ask him for a ride to the bus and go to my mother’s.” She rolled her eyes upward. “Oh, please, God, don’t let Hope be living with our mother! That would make this whole idea a miserable failure.”

  Charley just watched her with her mouth hanging open. “Krista, do you love him?”

  “Probably,” she said. “I haven’t had a lot of practice with that, you know.” She became wistful. “He’s so kind to people. Sometimes they don’t even know it. One of the waitresses has two special-needs kids at home. She and her husband have to work opposite shifts so one of them is always home and Jake keeps an eye on her because sometimes she’s real tired. You know, if she has a hard night with the kids. He tries to make it look like he’s just a good manager but it’s more than that. He’s kind. You can’t get away with that in prison. If you’re soft, you’re history. I don’t think I ever was, you know—soft. But boy, did I get hard in prison. Being around Jake—it gives me back some of that. You can be soft around Jake and be safe.”

  “That’s so lovely,” Charley said.

  “I usually try to stay out of people’s business but I think you should try to find a way to patch things up with your Michael.”

  “Yes,” she said. “But I did ask him to forgive me. In that letter that he should have gotten by now.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t even checked the mail, Charley.”

  She shook her head. “He’s obsessive about the mail.”

  “You’re going to have to do something. Maybe you should go home. At least call him.”

  “I’m a little afraid to,” she said. “What if he’s over me? We were both pretty angry.”

  “Huh. I thought you were fearless.”

  “Me? I’m afraid of a lot of things.”

  “Then why do you act so damn tough?” Krista shook her head. “You girls on the outside, you can sure get yourselves worked up over meaningless bullshit. This thing with your man? I’m sure it hit you wrong, but if you look at the whole thing, it’s not even a thing. You hurt each other’s feelings. That’s all.” She jutted her chin toward the bedroom where Meg was sleeping. “Now that’s a thing.”

  They were both respectfully quiet for a moment.

  “You don’t have to rent anything, Krista,” Charley said. “You can use this house as long as you want. You can walk across the lake when it freezes. Just wait till the ice fishermen put up their fishing shacks to be sure. When you see the trucks drive on the ice, you’ll know it’s safe.”

  “I don’t want to abuse my welcome. I want to try to pay my way.”

  “On a waitress’s salary? That’s going to be tough. But this house was paid for decades ago. And with someone here watching over it, we can visit it in winter if we want to. We can make sure the heater is serviced before it gets too cold.”

  “I’
ll have to ask the board of directors,” Krista said. “Louise and Josephine.”

  * * *

  Three days later, on Krista’s day off, the three women were barely finished with breakfast when someone tooted a horn. Krista went to the porch.

  “Oh, you’re not going to believe this,” she yelled into the house, bringing the other two out.

  Jo and Lou were helping someone out of the car. They had brought Grandma Berkey to the lake. She was focused on the ground in front of her, watching her steps carefully, though Jo and Lou each held an arm. Krista’s first thought was that she was so tiny. She must be no more than a hundred pounds. She was only a little hunched. Her hair was an interesting shade of pink and quite thin.

  “Surprise,” Jo said when they got to the porch steps. “Careful, Mother,” she coached.

  “Grandma!” Charley said. “Have you been kidnapped?”

  “’Bout time someone got me out of that hellhole.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll only be staying a few hours,” Jo said. “We thought you might enjoy asking Grandma about the good old days.”

  “They weren’t all that good,” Grandma said. “You got any coffee? I hadn’t hardly had my coffee when they snatched me.”

  Krista held the screen door open while Lou and Jo shepherded her into the house. Grandma paused and patted Krista’s cheek. “So they let you out, did they?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And I guess they taught you some manners in there. Well, they kept you way too long. A tragedy.” She came up to Krista’s chin. “You look none the worse for it.”

  “Thank you. I guess.”

  “So this old place didn’t fall down while we were away?” She shook her daughters off her arms and took little shuffling steps to the chair in the living room. She looked around. “Looks just like it did.”

  “Do you want cream and sugar, Grandma?” Charley asked.

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  “Add a little water to her coffee so it’s not too strong. And not too much sugar,” Lou said.

  “I like it strong!” the old lady barked. “I’m Swedish—we like it strong! And don’t spare the sugar! We used to give you girls coffee in your milk when you were toddlers. That’s what the Swedes do!”

  “Her hearing seems fine,” Krista said.

  “Damn right, it is. Everything is fine. I don’t know why I’m locked up in that snake pit.”

  “Mother, it’s the best facility in Saint Paul. There’s a waiting list!”

  “I don’t care! I hate it. I miss my house. My parents bought me that house!”

  Krista went and sat close, sensing her best chance at information at hand. “You must have loved the house,” she said.

  “I loved it once the judge was gone,” she said. “It was a good place to raise my daughters. A good house. My parents bought me that house.”

  “As a wedding gift?” Krista asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “And the lake house?” she asked.

  “The judge,” she snorted. “Once he got his hands on some of my money, he did as he pleased. With caution,” she added with a cackle. “He was not a good judge, you know. He was a mean judge, that’s what. My father wasn’t unhappy about that, if you want to know the truth, because even though my father was in Chicago and the judge in Saint Paul, my father knew his price, the old bastard.”

  “Your father?” Krista asked. “Your father was an old bastard?”

  “No, my father was a businessman! The judge was for sale!”

  There was an “Ohhh” from the gallery.

  “He couldn’t get his hands on all my family money so he found a way. But he had to be very careful because if I had to call my father, there would be a firm talking-to. The kind that leave marks! And this cabin? I hated this cabin.”

  The girls looked between each other.

  Grandma chose to sip her coffee and hum quietly to herself. She sipped again. “Very good, Louise,” she said, looking right at Charley. “It’s strong and sweet.” She sipped some more, hummed some more.

  “Grandma, why did you hate the lake house? It was the finest lake house here,” Meg asked.

  “Well,” she said, putting down her cup. “I don’t have any proof of this, but the lake house idea came at the same time as a new court reporter. She was a very buxom blonde. The judge thought sending me and the girls to the lake for the summer was a good idea.” She shook her head. “He was always unfaithful. Always. But he didn’t hit me after that first year. Because my father would have killed him. My father wasn’t in the mob in Chicago but he wasn’t opposed to doing business with them. They had a thing about justice. I think the only man the judge was ever afraid of was my father.”

  “Jesus,” Charley said. “You should write an autobiography!”

  “You’ll never know how much of it is fiction,” Lou whispered.

  “I heard that! You calling me a liar?”

  “Tell them about your betrothal and wedding, Mother,” Jo said.

  Grandma Berkey smacked her lips and began a story of society parties, bridal showers, bridesmaids, 1950s fashion, pastel gowns, flowers and champagne. She wanted Bobby Darin to sing at the reception but that didn’t work out. The wedding and reception was attended by three hundred, they honeymooned in Miami Beach and her mother met her at her new house in Saint Paul to help her get organized. There were friends of friends who lived in Saint Paul to call on and the right country club had to be found.

  Meanwhile, Robert Leonard Berkey, later known only as the judge, was ten years her senior and a junior lawyer in the prosecutor’s office. If not for Grandma’s money, he wouldn’t have been able to so much as take her out to a nice dinner. But thanks to generous campaign contributions from her family to key politicians in Saint Paul, Robert’s rise was pretty quick. Grandma had women friends who were also newly wed; their children came along. She was endlessly busy with social events. Her schedule was packed! And she had a very well-trained household staff. Only four, but they were good. There was the nanny, the cook, the housekeeper, the maid.

  “We were so busy,” she said, laughing. “We had such a good time.”

  “It sounds like you were happy,” Krista said.

  “There were happy times,” she said, sipping her coffee again.

  “So marriage to the judge had its positive side?” Krista asked.

  “That old buzzard?” she asked. “He managed to make me hate him in no time at all.”

  “Forgive me, Grandma, but you never acted like you hated him,” Charley said. “You grieved horribly after he died.”

  “I slept more peacefully when he was gone than I ever had before. I grieved when Mama died, that’s when I grieved. Thank God I had my girls.” She hummed and picked up her coffee again.

  Charley looked at Lou. “I never heard a cross word between them.”

  “We did, growing up. But nothing worse than our friends’ parents.”

  “When did all this start? She’s really hostile!” Charley said.

  “I heard that!” Grandma snapped. “You’d be hostile, too, if someone took you out of your home and stuck you in some snake pit!”

  A few more stories were told, Grandma Berkey taking center stage with many more stories from her youth than from her married years. She had fancied another boy as her future husband but he wasn’t a professional and her father had in mind a doctor or lawyer. When she met the judge, he was so respectful to her parents she thought it would be fine. She looked right at Charley and called her Louise three times.

  Then, right in the middle of a sentence, she nodded off. Her head bobbed, her chin on her chest.

  Jo and Lou exchanged glances and softly chuckled.

  “We’ll have a small bite of lunch, if you’d be so genero
us, then we’ll take her back to the snake pit,” Jo whispered.

  “You’re welcome to stay,” Charley said.

  “No, we can’t,” Lou said. “Mother wanders at night. A bit of sundowning. Her snake pit is also a memory care facility. She has Alzheimer’s. I’m sure I told you that. She gets medication and she’s doing very well.”

  “When did all this business about hating the judge start?”

  “She’s always had her complaints but, you know, she’s very proud and wants to maintain her good reputation in society. She wouldn’t want her friends at the club, for instance, to think she didn’t have a perfect marriage—though I’m sure none of them did, either. Back in Mother’s day men were typically disrespectful to women in general.”

  “Was Daddy?” Charley asked.

  Lou shook her head. “Your father was a sweet man. Quiet and awfully boring at times, but he treated me well.”

  “Roy wasn’t a chauvinist or abuser,” Jo said. “He was a hopeless alcoholic. If I’d known then what I know now...”

  “Once we took her to the nursing home, she stopped worrying about her reputation and began referring to the judge as ‘that old bastard.’ I don’t know how much of it is real or a by-product of the disease. She was never so angry before.”

  “She might’ve been and didn’t show it,” Jo said. “I know the judge sure made me angry.”

  “He was widely known as a hanging judge. He didn’t seem to have mercy for anyone.”

  “I’m proof of that,” Krista said, remembering what happened when she had begged for his help.

  After waking, Grandma Berkey stuck to her script. She hated her husband.

  “I wonder, Grandma, why didn’t you divorce him?” Charley asked.

  “My parents died, the money was left to me in a trust and the judge would have never let me get away with anything. In those days only the desperate or notorious dared to get divorced. In the ’50s and ’60s none of us were happy. It wasn’t fashionable to be happy. Now all anybody wants is to be stupidly happy every second whether they deserve to be or not.”