The Charm Bracelet

by Viola Shipman

  Lolly hopped up and down. “Let’s get ready to have some fun!” she said, pulling Arden by the hand back into the cabin. “How about some pancakes first, and then we’ll build a snowman … and then a snow fort … and then make snow ice cream … and…”

  “Mother!” Arden interrupted. “It’s only snow. And I don’t really like snow. I only like the days off school.”

  Lolly stopped and stooped in front of her daughter. “What a silly thing to say. Who doesn’t like snow? It’s magical.”

  “It’s cold and wet,” Arden said. “How’s it magical?”

  “Let’s have some breakfast, and then I’ll show you!”

  * * *

  “The secret to a great snowman,” Lolly said to Arden, her words coming out as big puffs of smoke into the frigid air, “is its pack-ability. See?”

  “The what?” Arden asked, folding her arms around herself, her glasses fogged over from the cold.

  Lolly smiled at her daughter. At first glance, the ten-year-old looked as if she was seemingly trying to ward off the cold, but Lolly knew it was more than that: She was trying to ward off the frigidity of the world.

  Arden had always been that way.

  Lolly bent down and picked up two huge handfuls of snow, recalling all of the comments Arden’s teachers made on her report cards: Arden is smart and a great writer but is very sensitive, shy, and unaware of her beauty, talents, and dimensions that make her unique. She seeks to please others too easily. She doesn’t stand up for herself.

  “See?” Lolly said, pushing her hands together to make a ball. “Lake-effect snow is too dry, so you have to put some extra heat into it to make it melt a little. Then it’s perfect. Your turn,” Lolly said.

  Arden gathered a tiny ball of snow, which disintegrated in her hands.

  Lolly again smiled at her daughter, and trudged through the snow. She kissed her daughter’s stocking-capped head. An inch of newly fallen snow toppled off the top of Arden’s head as if her mother had just knocked it off with a broom.

  “Follow my lead,” Lolly said, turning in a wide circle to gather the base for the snowman, pushing snow into a large mound.

  Mother and daughter worked silently in tandem as the snow hissed around them, their grunts and pats echoing in the quiet, white world. When they were finished, a nearly four-foot round, plump sentinel stood quietly on the hill as if to protect their little log cabin and the frozen lake below.

  “Is it time for hot chocolate?” Arden asked. “I’m getting cold and wet.”

  “Oh, we’re not done yet, my dear,” Lolly said. “We still have to give her a little personality to bring her to life, just like Frosty. Wait here!”

  Her? Arden thought.

  Lolly trudged through the snow, now hip deep on her, leaving a meandering trail behind her. She returned a minute later carrying a plastic bag.

  “First things first,” Lolly laughed, setting the bag atop the snow and plucking out a feather boa. “To keep our snow woman warm and stylish.”

  “Frosty is a boy, Mom!” Arden protested. “He can’t wear that!”

  “Ours is a snow woman! And snow women can be even more magical, my dear,” Lolly said. “She just needs a piece of us—our history—a little extra dimension to make her shine in this world.”

  Lolly pulled out a pair of large blue buttons and stuck them on the snow woman’s face followed by a pair of fake eyelashes as big as butterflies. Next came a carrot for a nose and smaller red buttons for lips. Pink buttons trailed down the snow woman’s front.

  “Over there,” Lolly said to Arden, motioning to a pine tree. “Get us a couple of those fallen branches.”

  When Arden returned, Lolly attached them as arms, placing an old purse in her piney hands.

  “And now? The finishing touch!” Lolly said, yanking out a straw hat—drenched in spring flowers—and placing it on the snow woman’s head with a flourish. “Voilà!”

  Lolly and Arden took a step back to admire their work.

  “What do you see when you look at our snow woman?” Lolly asked.

  Arden’s face still registered confusion.

  “I thought snowmen were men,” Arden asked. “That they couldn’t be women.”

  Lolly let out a deep sigh that lingered, frozen, in front of her face. She grabbed her daughter’s hand. “You can create and be anything in this world that you want to be,” she said, shaking her mitten, her bracelet jangling in the silence. “Your imagination should be limitless.”

  Lolly continued. “Didn’t you know that people are just like snowflakes? No two are alike.”

  “Really?” Arden asked.

  Lolly lifted her face to the sky and let the snowflakes gather on her eyelashes. When she blinked, they caught in the wind and went flying.

  “You bet,” Lolly said. “As snowflakes fall from the sky, they each take a different path to reach the earth. They float and flicker through clouds and cold, taking shape in a unique way, just like us. Every snowflake takes a different journey to the ground that makes it unique. Sometimes it’s hard for them to make it all the way here to us, but they do, still holding on to all those wonderful dimensions that make them different from every other snowflake in the world.”

  Arden held out her hand and waited for a snowflake to land in her palm. “You mean this one is different from every other one out here?”

  Lolly stopped and stooped, her knees slowly sinking in the snow until she was at eye level with her young daughter. “Yes! Isn’t that amazing? But what we try to do is to fit in and conform, so we’re like everyone else. We lose all of our unique angles…”

  Lolly grabbed her daughter’s hand and held it in the air, snowflakes gathering in Arden’s mitten. “… that make us special, just like these snowflakes. It’s up to us to remember how multifaceted we are and to celebrate all those odd little angles we have which make us who we are.”

  Arden smiled and nodded.

  “What a dumb snowman!”

  The words cracked through the air, breaking the frozen silence and making nearby cardinals take flight. Lolly stood and turned, her arms protectively in front of Arden.

  Two boys were standing a few feet away, one dragging a sled and the other a toboggan.

  “You boys know better than that,” Lolly said, turning. “Watch your tone.”

  Arden remained behind her mother. That’s when the wind-burned faces of these two boys registered in Lolly’s mind: Arden had pointed them out to her once after she got off the bus, saying how they always teased her at school.

  “Sorry,” one said without any remorse. “Let’s go, Ted.”

  The two boys trudged off into the snow, until they disappeared into the fog.

  Arden was still standing behind her mother, when Lolly suddenly dropped like a dead weight onto the ground.

  “Snow angels!” she yelled, trying to distract her daughter’s mind from the boys. “Let’s see yours!”

  Arden fell into the snow with a soft whoosh, and began sliding her arms and legs through the snow, giggling as the powder flew into the air.

  Lolly stood and carefully helped Arden step from the silhouette she had created.

  “Two angels,” Arden said. “A big one and a little one.”

  “Both unique,” Lolly said, hugging her daughter. “Both perfect, right?”

  “Right!”

  “Want some hot chocolate? With extra marshmallows?”

  “Yeah!” Arden yelled.

  The two trekked inside and shed their wet winter gear, pulling on robes and warming themselves in front of the lake stone fireplace with their hot chocolate. They sipped, while the snow still fell heavily, making the windows appear as if they had white curtains hanging outside.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  As the two sipped, they suddenly heard a barrage of rapid shots hit the cabin, as if a hunter had missed his target and sent errant buckshot flying.

  Lolly and Arden ran to the window and looked out. Two figures in hooded coats were tr
ying to run, but the depth of the snow and the drag from their sled and toboggan held them back.

  “Stop! Stop! Right now!” Lolly yelled as she threw open the door to the screened porch, her shouts making snow slide from the roof.

  Lolly quickly yanked on her mukluks, coat, and gloves and sprinted off the porch. “I mean it,” she yelled. “I see you. Come back here!”

  As she heard the boys’ laughter echo across the lake, Lolly turned to see that the snow woman she and Arden had just built was on its side, as if it had gotten tired and wanted to lie down for a long winter’s nap. Its head had rolled off to one side, its hat had already blown against the house in the wind, and its face was now expressionless and blank, the carrot and buttons now deep in the drift.

  Arden stood as frozen as the snow woman on the screened porch. She watched her mother turn her face toward the heavens—snowflakes gathering on her youthful face—and then suddenly take off in a flash, her anger seeming to make her fly across the top of the snow.

  As if on cue, the sun peaked out through the thick layers of lake-effect clouds that rolled by in the sky, illuminating Lolly as she bent down, hurriedly made a snowball as hard as a baseball, and whipped it at the two boys, where it smashed against the back of one’s coat, shattering on impact.

  “What the…?!” the boy yelled.

  The two bullies turned, their faces growing even redder, their surprise turning into anger. “You shouldn’t have done that, lady!”

  “You shouldn’t have ruined our snow woman!”

  “Snow woman?” they mocked. “Ha! She didn’t really stand up for herself!”

  The boys quickly began to make snowballs, and Lolly now stood as helpless as their snow woman had been. They picked up snowballs in each hand, and Lolly turned to brace herself for the attack.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  I don’t feel anything, Lolly thought. Am I too cold to feel the sting?

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  That’s when Lolly turned, and her mouth fell open. Arden was standing—back straight, chest puffed—a series of snowballs stacked in front of her, like cannonballs on a battleship. She was firing them rapidly and accurately, each snowball making direct contact to the boys’ chests and, now, backs.

  “Never touch my snow woman again!” Arden yelled. “And don’t you dare ever hurt my mother!”

  The boys dropped their snowballs and took off running.

  Tears of love and pride ran down Lolly’s face, before stopping, frozen, in midtrack.

  Lolly hugged her daughter, and then the two made their snow woman come alive yet again before heading inside to finish their hot chocolate.

  “I’m so proud of you for what you just did,” Lolly said, as they sat again in front of the fire. “That took a lot of courage, and it showed another dimension of who you are as a person. I want to show you something,” Lolly continued, returning a minute later with two pieces of white paper and pairs of scissors. “I thought we’d make some paper snowflakes to hang in the window, since the holidays are coming up soon and we’re getting our tree this weekend with your dad.”

  Lolly handed Arden a pair of scissors and a sheet of paper. “Doesn’t look like much right now, does it? Just a plain ol’ piece of paper. But we’re going to make magic, just like we did with our snow woman.”

  Lolly took a sheet of paper and folded it three times until it formed a tiny triangle. “Now, take your scissors and lop off the tip, and then begin cutting little designs into the edges. The lines can be curvy or straight, whatever you feel like. Your turn.”

  Arden slowly followed her mother’s directions, using the tip of her scissors to make intricate patterns.

  “It still doesn’t really look like anything,” Arden said, scrunching her face and looking at the tiny piece of folded paper, chock full of cuts.

  “Not yet,” Lolly smiled. “Now we have to unfold it, very carefully.”

  Arden gasped when she was finished. “It’s … beautiful!”

  “Just like you,” Lolly smiled. “Let’s hang them in the window. They will welcome your dad when he comes home, just like our snow woman.”

  Lolly taped the snowflakes in the window, and they danced, the peekaboo sun illuminating their intricateness.

  “See how different the two are?” Lolly asked, putting her arm around Arden. “Wholly unique, just like us. And see all the different angles and curves, patterns and designs? We all have that inside of us. But it’s up to us to make sure the world sees all of our beauty. We have to learn it’s okay not to conform, to be our true selves.”

  Arden ducked her head. “It’s hard to be different sometimes.”

  “I know it is, Arden, I know,” Lolly said, pulling her daughter tightly into her body. “But without showing the world all of our dimensions, we’re just a flat piece of paper.”

  Arden smiled and hugged her mother.

  “Want to make some more?” Lolly asked.

  “Yeah!”

  Lolly returned a moment later and set a stack of paper on the coffee table in front of the fire. On top, one piece was already folded and cut.

  “What’s this?” Arden asked.

  “It’s a special snowflake for you,” Lolly said. “Open it carefully.”

  Arden unfolded the paper, and, as she did, a charm came tumbling out.

  “It’s a charm of a snowflake,” Lolly said. “For your bracelet. My mom gave it to me a long time ago on my birthday. She used to tell me on my birthday that the world was celebrating my uniqueness. I still believe that. And I want you to celebrate yours, too. This charm is a reminder to live a life in which you become a person of many dimensions. Only that way will you become a whole, happy person.”

  Arden leaned in and hugged her mom. “Will you help me add it?”

  “Of course,” Lolly said.

  And then the two made a drift of snowflakes, no two alike.

  * * *

  Arden awoke with a start. She sat up quickly, snowflakes tumbling off her head and back.

  A person of many dimensions, Arden thought. What happened to my angles, my muchness?

  She went to bed, dragging the quilt, snowflakes trailing behind her, and dreamed of winter and the time in which she had the courage to fight for what she loved in life.

  Thirty-two

  Arden stopped in the lobby of Lakeview Geriatric Center and checked her hair in the mirror. She had “borrowed” a pink top from her daughter, which didn’t go unnoticed when she tried to sneak out of the cabin.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Lolly had asked, as she and Lauren sipped coffee on the screened porch and worked a puzzle.

  “And in my clothes,” Lauren added.

  “A quick errand,” Arden had said, trying to rush by them.

  “You look very pretty for a quick errand,” Lolly said. “Looks like more of a mission.”

  “And I’m taking the Woodie, too,” Arden added, jangling the keys.

  “But I have to work later,” Lolly called.

  “Take our car,” she yelled, jumping into the Woodie. “I need this … for luck!”

  Arden had watched as Lauren and Lolly gave each other a suspicious look and bewildered shrug—both mouthing for luck?—as Arden pulled the Woodie past the screened porch.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, jolting Arden from the memory as she was applying some of Lauren’s “borrowed” gloss to her lips.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Arden said, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m here to see Jake Thomas.”

  “Is he expecting you?” the receptionist asked.

  “No … well … no, he isn’t,” Arden fumbled, grabbing a big bag brimming with food off a table in the lobby and giving it a shake for emphasis. “It’s sort of a, well, surprise. I brought him lunch.”

  “Oh, you must be Arden,” the receptionist said, smiling.

  “What? How…? He’s talked about me?” Arden finally noticed the little gold sign in front of her that stated the receptionist�
��s name. “Really, Patty? He has?”

  “He has. Many times,” Patty said. “All good things. He really cares for your mom, too.”

  Too, Arden thought, biting her lip to keep her from saying it out loud.

  “Jake’s in the music therapy room right now,” Patty said. “Big room next to the cafeteria. You can go on back. Surprise him.”

  Patty gave a dramatic wink that Arden immediately believed could imply a million things. “Thanks,” she said.

  As Arden walked down the brightly lit hallway, music bounced off the walls and echoed in the corridor.

  Arden stopped and tilted her head.

  “Frosty the Snowman”? she thought. To kick off summer? Am I still dreaming?

  She stopped at the edge of the music room, poked her head around the corner, and did a double take.

  Jake was playing a trumpet and sporting a Santa hat while standing in front of a group of roughly twenty seniors, all of whom were clapping and bobbing their grey heads vigorously.

  His eyes were closed, and his body was one with the trumpet, swaying, swooping, dipping with each crescendo as his fingers flew over the keys and the brass instrument danced.

  Arden immediately thought of famed trumpeters like Louis Armstrong, whose music her mother loved, and Doc Severinsen, who Lolly had watched for decades on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.

  He looks so handsome, Arden thought. So lost in the music.

  Arden began to nod her head along with the seniors, and she shut her eyes, again remembering the day her mother taught her to build a proper snow woman.

  She didn’t notice the music had even stopped until she heard Jake’s voice boom, “Any requests?”

  Arden popped open her eyes, her face immediately turning red, as twenty grey heads turned her way.

  Arden vigorously shook her head no. Jake chuckled and walked over, wrapping one muscular arm around Arden’s waist and pulling her into the room. Upon her entrance, he lifted the trumpet to his lips and played a dramatic flourish, as if she were royalty.

  Arden giggled.

  “We have a surprise visitor!” Jake announced in a faux English accent. “A queen of words!”