How I Spent My Summer Holiday

I woke up with scenes of that night so long ago running through my head. The young boy, shaking with cold as he built a teepee of boards around him in the abandoned barn, trying to keep warm. The half-crazed woman, fiercely gripping the steering wheel in bare hands, as she drove wildly down the boat launch, out onto the frozen lake. The ice on the lake, holding steady until it could no longer carry the weight of the car, finally cracking and welcoming her into its icy depths. The young couple, sharing the agonizing pain of childbirth in a nearby hospital and the joy as they welcomed their firstborn son into the world. The connections between them all, brought to light this summer because I grabbed onto a rope that couldn’t bear my weight. I snuggled into the covers, holding on to the wonder of it all for as long as possible.

As I lay there, I began to focus on how the power of ‘if’ had been involved in all that had gone on. We wouldn’t have found the skeleton if Isabelle had not found the hole in the wall. If we were not playing tag. If she had pulled up the weeds as instructed, not the carrots. If I had not climbed up into the loft or tried to swing down on the rope. And then there were all the ifs from the past. If Grandma had not gone to Serenity Place she may never have met Grandpa. If the bull hadn’t killed Lassie, the barn would likely have had animals in it and the boy would have stayed warm. If Grandma had not hidden the parcel. If the baby had waited to be born another day. So many ifs.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock. The door swung open and Grandpa’s head appeared.

“Hey there, sleepy head. I’ve got an errand to run. Want to join me?”

“Of course. “I’ll be right with you.” I jumped out of bed and reached for my clothes lying on the chair beside it.”

“Take your time. I’ll go and finish my coffee and then we’ll head out.”

We didn’t speak again until we were driving down the highway.

“So where are we going?” I asked.

“To the local nursery. Your grandma is feeling pretty guilty about hiding the parcel. I am hoping I can pull her out of it with a gift. She loves trees and has been talking about buying this new strain of pears she’s been reading about called Kieffer. I thought we’d check to see if they have any here, and if so, buy it for her. Looking after it may take her mind off the past.”

“She told us about the bull.”

“Yes, she told me. Oh, how I love that woman. And to see her in such pain at the death of her dog. I just couldn’t stand it. I knew that shooting the bull wasn’t going to bring back Lassie, but it’s all I could do in the moment. I know I scared her. People around here thought I was crazy. What they didn’t understand was that her happiness was far more important to me than any bull could be. Or for that matter, any dream that I had for myself. And it turned out okay in the end. What with the sale of the cows, my job in town and renting out the land for the neighbors to farm over the years, we have done well. And she still had her gardens. They meant almost as much to her,”

“She thinks you married her just to get the house and the land.”

“I know, but she doesn’t understand. She’s what is important to me. I would live happily anywhere, even in a hovel, if that’s what I needed to do, just to be with her. Her mother had a wicked tongue, you know. Couldn’t say anything nice about anything or anybody, especially your grandmother, when she was a child. So she grew up not thinking much about herself. Has a tough time accepting the fact anyone really loves her.” He paused and looked down at me. “It’s kind of strange, you know, when you think of how little I had as a child, while she had everything one could dream of. Yet she is the one who doesn’t feel loved.”

“Everything, but a mother who loved her?”

“Perhaps a mother who loved her, but one who couldn’t show it because she never got over grieving the two children she lost to polio. Who knows what a difference that made?”

“Another if!”

Grandpa smiled? “So you are beginning to figure out just how this life we live goes. We can never know what our decisions or actions may reveal in the long run. It’s a major step in maturity when one figures that out. In the end we do what we do and then deal with the consequences, whatever they are. Remember that chocolate cake Grandma made?”

“Yes, it was delicious!”

“Well, that is my favorite food. Whenever Grandma has done something she isn’t proud of, like saying something nasty like her mother would, she makes it for me. And whenever it’s my turn to repent, I buy her things for the garden. It’s how we tell each other I’m sorry. I’m here for you. I understand. I know it might not be easy, but it will be okay.”

“We are in this together, what ever it is.”

“Yep! You do remember her saying that. It’s how we live. Now here we are,” as he turned and steered the truck into the driveway of the nursery. “Let’s go buy us a pear tree.”

Mom and dad had arrived at Fernwood Manor when we drove back into the yard. Summer was over and we would be back in school on Monday. Grandma was delighted with the pear tree we had bought and immediately set to making the decision of where she wanted it planted. We all joined in digging the hole, pouring in the fertilizer, watering it and finally placing the tree in it’s final resting spot. Isabelle got down on her knees and firmly patted the dirt down all the way around the trunk. Then we all stepped back to admire the job we had done.

“I think I will name it Vincent,” said Grandma, “in memory of that little boy we never got to know. It will be his tree.”

“And in memory of this summer together,” I said. “A summer I will never forget. I loved being here with you at Fernwood Manor.”

“Me too” said Isabelle.

“And we loved having you with us,” Grandma replied. She reached out and gave us each a hug. “Now, how about us all going to the garden and harvesting what’s ready, so you can take back to the city to eat.”

Evening was drawing nigh when we finally got into the car for our trip back home. As we sped down the driveway, I turned and looked back at my grandparents for the last time. They were silhouetted against the sunset. with their arms around each other, looking at the pear tree. As I waved good bye, I could hear Grandma’s voice in my mind. ‘We are in this together, whatever it is.’

The End