Free Three Bird Summer by Sara St. Antoine Page A

wandering back in time, why didn’t it wander back to the best and happiest moments, like the ones Dottie loved to talk about?
    “Grandma,” I said as I slid my checker piece forward, “was Dottie Lewis at your wedding?”
    “Dottie?” she asked. “Of course she was. She was one of my bridesmaids!”
    “So she knew my grandfather,” I pointed out. I hardly knew what to call him.
    Grandma looked at me like I was the crazy one. “Well, if she was one of my bridesmaids, you would think so, wouldn’t you?”
    “I’m just asking, Grandma,” I said. “I thought you said something once . . .” I hesitated.
    “What?” Grandma asked.
    “I don’t know. Something about how you couldn’t tell Dottie about the two of you and your plans.” My voice tightened. I was wandering out onto thin ice.
    “I wonder where you heard a thing like that!” Grandma said. “Dottie Lewis introduced me to your grandfather — they were second cousins. Of course, that doesn’t mean I told her all the little details of our courtship. In fact, I’m sure I didn’t. But why would you care about a thing like that?”
    “I don’t know. Never mind,” I said. Grandma jumped two of my checker pieces. I looked up at her. “But those must have been happy times. When you were getting married to your best friend’s cousin. It’s almost like you and she were becoming family!”
    “Of course,” Grandma said.
    “Did you do crazy creative things? Like at the Fourth of July parade?” I asked, still determined to help her remember the good stuff. But Grandma just shrugged.
    “I’m not sure we were very crazy or creative by then. But the wedding cake was delicious,” she said, which should have come out sounding like a happy memory but somehow did not.
    “Did I hear someone say wedding cake?” my mother asked as she strode in. “What are you two talking about?”
    “Nothing,” I said.
    “Nothing at all,” said Grandma. “I’m tired. And I’m going to bed.” She stood up creakily and headed off to her room.
    My mother looked at me for an explanation, but I just folded the checkerboard into a
V
and concentrated on sliding all the checkers back into their box.

“ANYONE FEEL LIKE A WALK in the woods this morning?” Mom asked at breakfast. “There’s a nice breeze coming across the lake. It shouldn’t be too buggy.” It had been two days since Dottie’s visit, but Mom still sounded cheerful, and she and Grandma were getting along better. Maybe we needed to invite visitors over more often.
    “Sure,” I said.
    “I think my old bones can manage a little mosey,” Grandma said.
    We started out down an overgrown path that led past a forgotten outhouse.
    “You really used that thing?” I asked Grandma. It was hard to imagine having to make such a long trek in the dark of night just to pee.
    She gave me one of her looks.
    “We all did,” Mom said. “Especially when we had lots of family visiting. I always ended up out this way in a tent with a bunch of cousins.”
    We crossed a broad grassy clearing that looked out on the lake below. Butterflies spiraled among the tallest flowers. Grasshoppers sprang out of our way as we walked.
    “We should have picnics here or something,” I said, admiring the view.
    “It’s where Grandma had her wedding reception,” Mom said.
    “That again,” Grandma said, almost to herself.
    There didn’t seem to be any obvious path out the other side of the meadow, but Grandma acted like she knew what she was doing. She stepped over a fallen log, and soon we were back under the trees.
    “There used to be a slew of trails out here,” Mom said. “Ma and I kept them clear all summer. What was that stuff we sprayed on the poison ivy?”
    “Something you can’t buy anymore,” Grandma said.
    “Probably totally toxic,” Mom said.
    “You turned out OK,” Grandma retorted.
    Through the trees, we heard the drumming of a woodpecker, and it grew louder as we continued on our trail. “Where is