The Charm Bracelet

by Viola Shipman

  The seniors smiled, some giggling along with Arden.

  Jake gave Arden a surprise peck on the cheek and whispered into her ear, “It’s good to see you. I’m in the middle of music therapy. It can really help patients with MCI and dementia recall memories from their past.”

  Arden again thought of the snow woman, and then of the snowflake charm.

  “Actually,” Arden said aloud, surprising Jake as well as herself, “I do have a request: ‘Let It Snow.’”

  A few of the seniors clapped their approval.

  Jake bent at the waist. “Anything for m’lady.”

  And, with that, Jake lifted his trumpet, and Arden could have sworn she was once again in the middle of winter, happy for the holidays.

  * * *

  “So? What prompted this surprise?” Jake asked, taking a healthy bite of the roasted turkey sandwich that Arden had picked up at a farm stand and deli on her way to see him. “This sandwich is awesome. It’s like we had planned this.”

  Arden smiled at the deeper meaning of his sentence. As she watched Jake eat, she thought of the little farm that had seemed to call to her—like the dream she had last night—as she was driving. The farm stand was beyond adorable. It was lined with baskets overflowing with homegrown produce: blueberries, early white asparagus, eggs, fresh herbed chèvre, beets, lettuce, and spinach. The deli was operated out of a restored barn, its old doors pushed open so you could see right through to the fields beyond, which were filled with bleating goats jumping around like excited children.

  A man and woman draped in aprons ran the stand and deli, and they seemed to communicate to one another without saying a word.

  Just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have stopped there, Arden thought. I wouldn’t be here. I want what that old couple have. I want what my parents had.

  “I was supposed to call you for a date.”

  “What?” Arden asked, returning from her thoughts.

  “I was supposed to call you for a date.” Jake stopped, his eyes twinkling. “Remember? So? Is this a date?” he continued, raising his eyebrows and nudging Arden with his knees.

  “I’m the writer,” she said. “Let’s call it a meet-and-greet.”

  “Wow,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So romantic.”

  The two were sitting on facing benches outside Lakeview. It was one of those stunning May days, as Lolly used to say, that made her “soul ache.”

  Arden took a bite of her kale salad dotted with tart Michigan cherries and shook her head. She couldn’t contain her smile.

  I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl, she thought.

  Arden lifted her face to the sky and let the sun warm her. The sun was playing hide-and-go-seek through the branches of the apple trees that circled the patio where they sat. The two had it all to themselves. No one else was eating outside. A clematis vine was just crawling to life on a trellis next to them, its green arms slowly stretching heavenward. Soon it would be filled with luscious, white blooms.

  Arden inhaled.

  It’s not the only thing coming to life, she thought.

  The scene felt so romantic, so sweet, that the two could have easily been dining on a tree-lined street in Paris.

  It just feels so right, Arden thought.

  As the two ate, their knees touched. Each time they did, a sudden sensor of heat and excitement pulsed through Arden’s legs and body. She tried to act nonchalant, although she felt as if her heart were thumping out of her chest.

  “I didn’t know you played the trumpet,” Arden said. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  Jake smiled. “I’m a man of mystery, I guess.”

  “Did you take music in college?” Arden asked.

  “Minored in music,” he said. “Played trumpet all through college … orchestra, jazz band, marching band … you name it.”

  Explains the muscular lips, Arden thought, again turning red.

  “A real Renaissance man, huh?” she asked.

  “I never thought of it like that,” he said, gesturing with his sandwich. “I always just pursued what I liked.”

  Jake shot Arden a look as he finished the sentence, and then winked at her to reinforce the double entendre.

  Arden’s heart raced again.

  “I like you, Arden,” Jake said suddenly. “I know all of this—me, your mother’s health—is a lot to take in, but I just want to be honest.”

  Arden’s eyes met Jake’s, but she couldn’t match his words for some reason.

  Being honest with my feelings has never come easily, she thought.

  “Do you even realize how much you’ve changed over the last week?” Jake asked.

  Arden nodded. “I think I’m starting to see.”

  “You’re becoming a whole person again,” Jake said. “Daughter, mother, friend, caregiver, reader, writer,… date…”

  Arden laughed. “Again with the date?”

  “That’s why I play the trumpet,” Jake said. “It’s an important part of me that I need to express. That’s why you need to write again. It’s an important piece of you. It doesn’t matter if I ever play Carnegie Hall, but it matters that I let the world see me.”

  He stopped and set down his sandwich, before standing and taking a seat next to Arden, their legs now pressed against each other.

  “So many of my patients are haunted by the things they never did in life and the people they never became,” Jake said, looking into Lakeview. “They didn’t have the power to stand up for themselves, to battle their fears, to show the world who they really were, all those beautiful…”

  “Dimensions?” Arden asked.

  “Exactly.” Jake smiled. “The worst thing in the world is to have regrets. You will always have a few, but they shouldn’t be ones that keep you up at night.”

  Jake stopped, and Arden knew instantly that he was going to kiss her. She could sense it, almost as clearly as she could smell the sweet, perfumed scent of the apple blossoms that filled the air.

  Arden shut her eyes and let the moment sweep her away, images of a future life—season by season—pirouetting in her mind.

  As their kiss ended, Arden put her hands on Jake’s face and looked tenderly in his eyes.

  I can see myself with this man, she thought.

  And then she laughed.

  “That bad of a kiss, huh?” Jake asked. “I tend to have that effect on women.”

  “No, no, no,” Arden said. “I’m sorry. I just noticed you still have a little circle around your lips from the mouthpiece of your trumpet when you played earlier.”

  Jake touched his lip self-consciously.

  “No, it’s cute. Really cute,” Arden said, before grabbing his face and kissing him again. “You have great lips.”

  “So do you,” Jake whispered, grabbing her hand.

  Arden put her head on his shoulder. “The apple blossoms smell so heavenly, don’t they?”

  “They do,” Jake said. “That’s why they’re our state flower. And Michigan is one of the top apple producing states in the country.”

  “You are a person of many dimensions,” Arden said.

  “You are, too,” he replied. “Hey? Can I ask you a question?”

  Arden lifted her head. “Sure. Anything.”

  “Why did you request ‘Let It Snow’?”

  Arden smiled and tugged nervously at her earlobe.

  “There’s no need for that, Ms. Burnett,” Jake joked. “Just tell me.”

  Arden tightened her grip on Jake’s hand and then told him the story of her mother, her own fears, and the snowflake charm.

  “She’s right,” he said, when she finished. “We just want you to be the best, most well-rounded person you can be in this world. A whole person is a happy person.”

  “That sounds like a bumper sticker.” Arden laughed.

  “I just want you to be ‘muchier,’” Jake said softly, pulling Arden in for another kiss, the wind knocking a few delicately colored cherry pink and white petals off the
trees, as if the two were kissing in a snowfall of blossoms.

  Thirty-three

  Arden’s fingers hovered over her cell phone. She was having trouble hitting SEND.

  “Do you want me to do it for you?” Lolly asked, walking in from her afternoon at work, dressed in a bright purple sequined Dolly gown. “Jake is teaching me a lot about technology. All you have to do is…”

  “I know how to send an email, Mom.” Arden laughed, thinking of her “date” earlier with Jake.

  He’s teaching me a lot, too, Arden thought.

  “It’s a work email,” Arden explained. “I’m trying to tell my boss to stop bothering me while I’m gone … and that I want to write for the magazine.”

  “Good for you!” Lolly said. “I’m so proud of you!”

  Lolly’s face beamed with pride, and she took a seat next to her daughter on the glider, her sequins announcing her every move.

  Arden looked at her mom, smiled, and then hit SEND, giving a squeal of nervous excitement after her cell had sounded its exit.

  “No matter what,” Lolly said, nodding her head toward the lawn, “you’re fighting for what you want, just like you did during that snowball fight so long ago. Remember?”

  Arden’s eyes widened at her mother’s clarity and intuition.

  It’s like she can read my mind, Arden thought.

  “I do,” she said, smiling, hugging her mom before giving the glider a gentle push with her feet.

  “Wheeee!” Lolly said.

  Before the glider had stopped swinging, Arden’s cell trilled.

  “Simóne’s doing a GREAT job filling in for you,” Van replied.

  What a jackass. No “Have a good time, you deserve it,” or “How’s your mom?” Not even a “Let’s talk when you get back after your vacation.” Just a thinly veiled threat, Arden thought, annoyed.

  Lolly patted her daughter’s leg. “You don’t need anyone’s permission to be who you dream of being. You are here—right here—because of the journey you took.”

  Lolly stopped, her voice quaking along with her sequins. “There is no one else in the world like you, my beautiful girl. No one. Please know that. You are made up of so many dimensions. Now it’s just up to you to let the world see that beauty.”

  Arden began to cry, without warning, her tears a downpour, a sudden thunderstorm of emotion.

  “There, there,” Lolly said, comforting her daughter, holding her tightly. “There’s no need for tears. Why don’t you go write?” she added, brightening. “Just go sit and write. Lauren knows clearly who she wants to be. No one tells her to paint. She just paints. Remember when you used to write because you loved it?”

  Arden sat straight up.

  “Are you okay?” Lolly asked.

  “Yes!” Arden replied. “I am!”

  “Are you off to write?”

  “I am,” Arden said, standing. “But I have to do something first. Where’s your paper and scissors?”

  “What? Why?” Lolly asked, before seeing the determination in her daughter’s face. “In the kitchen. Junk drawer.”

  Arden gathered her materials, sat in front of the living room fireplace, and made a blizzard of snowflakes for her mother, which the pair then hung in the cabin’s windows.

  And then Arden sat on the dock and wrote until dusk, until the dragonflies called her home for dinner, summer snowflakes twinkling in the cabin’s lights.

  part nine

  The Shooting Star Charm

  To a Life in Which You Are Lucky in Love

  Thirty-four

  Arden yawned in sync with Lauren, their eyes fluttered, and then their heads dipped, until their chins were resting on their chests.

  Lolly clapped, waking her dozing daughter and granddaughter with the subtlety of an earthquake, their eyes shooting open in alarm.

  “Here, girls, have some more coffee,” Lolly said, rushing into the kitchen and returning with a pot of coffee. “You can’t go to sleep yet!”

  Arden looked at her watch and slumped deeper into the couch. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock, Mom. I need to be in bed, not chugging caffeine. Do you really think this is such a good idea?”

  Lolly filled the three mugs sitting on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and turned to look at her daughter. “There has never been a better idea, my dear,” she said with complete conviction. “We may never have the chance to see the Northern Lights again together.”

  Lauren shook her head and said, “You’re right, Grandma. I’ve heard about them my whole life. Now it’s the right time to see them. Together!”

  Lolly smiled. “It’s a perfect night. Clear as a bell. The weatherman says it might not happen again for a while. Wanna help me with some snacks?”

  Lauren nodded. “Grab us some sweatshirts, my dear,” Lolly said to Arden. “It’ll be chilly on the beach, especially if we have to wait awhile.”

  Arden considered protesting what she felt was likely a wild-goose chase, but her mother’s face said there would be no discussion. Instead, Arden nodded, too, and grabbed some sweatshirts.

  Thirty-five

  Lolly, Arden, and Lauren were stretched out on a giant quilt, lying side by side, staring up at the starry sky, the sound of the waves from Lake Michigan lulling them into a trance.

  There was an out-of-body experience to being on the beach at night. A few other hearty stargazers were camped out on the sand, but no one had lit a fire or had flashlights shining. Everyone was waiting for the show, almost reverential in anticipation of what might occur.

  “It’s so dark and quiet out here,” Lauren said. “In Chicago, there’s always light—streetlights, headlights, apartment lights—and noise from people, airplanes, sirens, the highway, the city.”

  “That’s why it’s so perfect to see the Northern Lights here,” Lolly said. “There is no pollution in the sky to hide the show. And you can see from heaven to earth, and east to west, forever.”

  Seeing the Northern Lights in Michigan was akin to seeing Bigfoot, Arden thought. Everyone in Michigan said they had seen them at some point in their lives, but few could ever offer up specifics, or even a great photo.

  Arden had studied the Northern Lights in science class. If she remembered her studies well enough, the Northern Lights—or aurora borealis—were a natural light phenomenon in the sky, mostly seen in high latitudes. They were named after the Roman goddess of dawn (Aurora) and the Greek god of the north wind (Boreas) by Galileo. The Northern Lights are the result of collisions of gaseous particles in the earth’s atmosphere with charged particles released from the sun. The effect was akin to a 3-D kaleidoscopic light display in the sky. The light displayed in many colors and forms, including shades of green, pink, red, yellow, blue, and violet—in arcs, streamers, rippling curtains, and shooting rays that lit up the sky in an eerie, otherworldly glow.

  The three stared into the sky. “Isn’t this exciting?” Lolly asked, her voice high.

  “Are you sure this is going to happen, Mom?” Arden asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “Oh, it’ll happen,” Lolly said, grabbing Arden’s and Lauren’s hands in the dark. “When you least expect it. It’s like love. You just have to be patient and then—BOOM!—you see lights.”

  Lauren laughed. “Did you see lights when you first met Grampa, when he hooked you with his fishing lure?”

  “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes first,” Lolly laughed. “But, yes … I know this sounds a little silly, but I immediately saw light radiating from him when we met. I just knew.”

  Lolly smiled to herself and continued. “You know that photo I have in my bedroom? The one taken at sunset on the beach? It was taken right here. Your grandfather brought me here on a date. He roasted hot dogs and we made s’mores, and then he told me the date wasn’t over. He said he’d asked my dad if he could show me the Northern Lights. But my dad didn’t like me staying out so late with a boy, so Les invited my dad to join us. And the lights were spectacular.”

>   Lolly stopped and closed her eyes. She was silent for a moment. “And in the middle of the Northern Lights—right in the middle of all that color and those shooting stars—he gave me a charm.”

  Lolly sat up. “Your phone has one of those flashlights on it, doesn’t it? Jake’s taught me all about those—what are they called?—apples?”

  “Apps, Grandma.” Lauren laughed, turning on her phone. “Here you go.”

  Lolly held her charm bracelet in front of the light and shook it. She held out a charm and sighed. “It’s appropriate the light is shining off it so brightly,” Lolly said. “This is my shooting star charm. When Les gave it to me in the middle of the Northern Lights, he whispered, so my dad wouldn’t hear, ‘To a life in which you are lucky in love.’”

  “And I whispered back, ‘You will always be my lucky star.’”

  Lauren sat up. “Don’t make me cry again, Grandma.”

  The three listened to the waves crash onto the beach, and owls hoot from the aspen and pine trees in the dunes behind them. “Did you see light when you met Dad?” Lauren asked her mother.

  Arden considered lying to her daughter, but she sat up and said to the lake, “No, I didn’t, sweetie. I saw … stability. I saw … a life of ease. I saw … well … no fireworks, nothing that had anything to do with love, sadly.”

  Arden stopped and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “But the greatest love of my life resulted from our marriage. So I can never be sorry about that decision. And you certainly light up my life.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Lauren said, hesitating before forging on with a question. “Did you see lights with Clem?”

  “I did,” she said. “I didn’t just see fireworks, I felt them. I felt like I’d eaten a million lightning bugs when I was with him. He made my soul brighter, and that’s all you can ask for when you’re in love.”

  Arden inhaled the lake breeze. “Your grandmother is right. There is a bit of luck involved in love. You have to be open to it.”

  “Open to what?”

  The three women jumped and screamed at the deep voice booming over them.