The Summer That Made Us. Robyn Carr
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Название: The Summer That Made Us
Автор: Robyn Carr
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: MIRA
isbn: 9781474074438
isbn:
Charley found that at first sight the house was worn but presentable. She knew her mother paid a local family to keep an eye on the place over the years. The grass was cut and the hedges trimmed. But it was clearly in need of some attention. It was a roomy place—three bedrooms downstairs, two small rooms upstairs in the loft with dormers, two full baths and a half bath in the master. Plus, there was living space over the boathouse and the wide, deep porch was screened. The screen was torn and sagging and there wasn’t any outdoor furniture anymore.
She pried open a porch window. Meg was right; it opened easily. Upon getting inside it became obvious she hadn’t been the first one to do that. The place was heaped with trash and the beds downstairs looked used. Stained. There were, of course, no linens. But all that aside, she was wildly optimistic—the damage was all cosmetic. She would need new furniture and new appliances. The porch would have to be rescreened. Everything would need a serious scrubbing and fresh paint. There should be new toilets and maybe new tubs.
But first, she’d call an electrician to make sure the wiring was safe. And she’d have to hire someone who would clean the place out and make a trip or two to the dump.
Charley went back outside and sat on a tree stump that had been there since she was a little girl. She pulled out her phone and began making a list in the notes section. The afternoon was sunny but not warm; April in Minnesota, especially on the lake, was chilly. The lake was so calm and quiet. The gentle lapping of the waves at the shore was soothing. She closed her eyes.
Then she began to hear it—the laughter of children. Someone’s mother yelling from the porch, You better not be in the lake without an adult! She could smell hot dogs and ribs on the grill, smell the campfire, toasted marshmallows; she saw seven sunfish lying on the dock to be cleaned—the largest of the catch. Someone whistling for his dog. A happy squeal and splash. Women laughing. The horn of a speedboat and the whistles of men. The pounding of little feet across the porch, across the dock. Whispers and giggles from the screened-in porch at night; laughter from the moms inside the house. Music from the radio mingled with the laughter. Voices and shouting of a late-night party somewhere on the lake. She recalled it so vividly she could hear it—the sounds of summer.
Maybe Meg was right. Maybe summer at the lake would bring her comfort. It could heal her, Charley thought hopefully. Or give her peace in her last days?
When Meg was going into the hospital for the bone marrow transplant she had said, “This may not work, Charley. But there’s one thing I need you to know. It’s important that you know. I’m not afraid. Either way, I’m not afraid.”
That’s when Charley decided. Whatever Megan wanted, if it was within her power, she’d make sure she had it. And, Charley thought, it wouldn’t hurt me to make peace with the past.
Megan was thrilled to get a call from Charley right away. “Good news, Meg. The house needs work but it looks like it’s all cosmetic. It’s a wreck—people have definitely broken in and used the place. It’s trashed. And of course the furniture is dirty and rotting—but I can buy furniture and appliances in a flash. I’m going to get an electrician out here to check the wiring first. Also someone to haul trash. Those two things have to be done right away before I come back to the city.”
“Oh, Charley! We’ll repay you every dime!”
“That’s the least of my worries,” she said. Charley had been a minor star and had earned good money and invested wisely. She gulped back the fear that her earning days were over.
“Is it going to be a huge job?” Meg asked.
“Nope. Soap and water, paint, new furniture and appliances, new screening.”
“I wish I could help,” Megan said.
“I’m not going to do it myself,” Charley said with a laugh. “I’m going to hire people.”
“When will it be done? Will it be done soon?”
“It’ll be done by June,” she said. “It’ll probably be done before June but it’s really too cold to stay here right now. We need to wait for summer, Meg. The weather has to be warmer, especially for you. I’ll know more after I talk to a few people. I’ll be home in a few days.”
“Where are you staying?”
“There’s a motel just outside Waseka.”
“Did you look at the lodge?”
“Uh, no. For some strange reason I don’t feel like going to the lodge.”
“I promise you won’t see a familiar face, Charley!” Meg said.
“Just the same,” Charley said. “So, I don’t want you doing anything strenuous, but if you’re feeling good, you might start making a couple of lists. I haven’t looked through the cupboards yet but I’m sure most of the kitchenware is just too old and filthy to work for us. And there are no linens here. None. It looks like most of the pieces of wooden furniture are salvageable after some cleaning and polishing, but the armchairs, sofas and mattresses are out of here.”
“Okay!” Meg said. “I’ll do that! I’ll make lists!”
“Don’t get yourself too excited,” Charley cautioned. “You’re supposed to be resting and meditating and growing healthy cells.”
“I will!” she said. “I am! OMG, this is happening!”
“Oh, brother,” Charley said. “I hope this wasn’t a mistake...”
“It’s not! It’s happiness! Haven’t you heard that joy is good for illness? Joy and laughter and lake houses.”
“Take a nap,” Charley said, signing off.
Meg immediately started making lists and it filled her with optimism. That had to mean something good, she thought. She’d listed about twenty items when she stopped and instead went to the desk in the den and got out her stationery. She wanted to write to a lot of people who would probably either ignore her note or laugh and throw it away, but she was hell-bent.
Dear Hope,
In June we’re opening the lake house. Charley is doing most of the work and we’re going to spend the summer there. As you know, I’ve been somewhat under the weather.
She stopped long enough to laugh. But she thought it would be impolite to write, “As you know, I’m probably dying...”
She pressed on.
I’ve finished my chemo and bone marrow transplant and the only thing to do now is СКАЧАТЬ