Free The Four Seasons by Mary Alice Monroe Page B

matter. “This is not another game. You can’t fly in after all these years and expect us to pick up where we left off as children. I’m sure your life in Europe is very exciting and glamorous,” she said in a stuffy manner, “but here in America, everything is not always fun.”
    Jilly shook her head, seeing clearly the woman Birdie had become. “Why can’t it be? Birdie, listen to yourself. When did you get so old and sour?”
    Birdie stiffened as though slapped and Jilly regretted her words instantly.
    â€œWe can do this,” said Jilly soothingly. “We’ll make this the most charming, delightful luncheon imaginable. We’ll have china and silver, pink tablecloths trimmed with lace and ribbon, tea sandwiches and flowers everywhere.”
    â€œExactly,” Rose exclaimed, her face glowing. “I’m sure that’s the way Merry would have wanted it.”
    It was the first time that morning that Merry’s name was mentioned. Merry, who was already gone from them. Merry, whose presence was suddenly overwhelming. They had been tiptoeing around their grief, trained as they were since childhood to tuck away emotion. But now that her name was spoken she sprang to life in their thoughts.
    Rose’s eyes were bright with tears. Jilly went to her side to wrap an arm around her.
    Birdie did the same. “Glad you’re home,” she said in Jilly’s ear. “Missed you.”
    â€œMe, too,” Jilly replied, relishing the heartfelt hug from Birdie she’d missed with the first hello.
    Dennis pushed through the door, his arms filled with bags of paper products.
    â€œOkay then,” Birdie called out, releasing her sisters to face Dennis. “All this stuff goes back in the car!”
    Dennis stopped short, looking confused.
    â€œDon’t ask!” Birdie swooped up the bags from the counter and proceeded out the door. “I’ll take them back—but I still think I’m right,” she called over her shoulder.
    Dennis shrugged, shook his head and followed.
    Jilly met Rose’s gaze and smiled as the mood shot skyward.
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    Outside the garage Birdie paused to take a deep breath and stare at the yard. The sun shone brilliantly in a clear blue sky. Cheery heads of crocuses were emerging through the sparkling snow, valiantly promising spring would come, even if a bit late. Beyond, in the side yard, the hot sun had melted the snow on the rectangle of sidewalk that bordered a forty-foot expanse. That space had been an in-ground swimming pool, long ago.
    She saw in her mind’s eye the brilliant blue of the pool’s water. Bahama Blue, it was called. Every other summer the girlshad to help paint that color on the sloping cement walls, looking like Smurfs when the job was done. The pool was the family’s playground. In happier times, Dad would come home from work and jump in like a “bomb,” splashing his girls while they squealed with delight. They’d take turns being hurled from his shoulders, pretending to be mermaids diving off a cliff. One more time, Dad!
    They’d spend the day playing mermaids in the pool and wouldn’t come out until their fingers were pruned and their lips were blue. Especially Birdie. She loved to swim and was a natural, able to hold her breath longer than anyone she knew.
    Mermaids…Birdie’s lips turned up in a smile. She hadn’t thought of that in, oh, so many years. It was their favorite game. Jilly made it up, of course, though she herself had thought up most of the game’s rules, like holding their breaths under Iceland and being dead if they ever touched the drain. That’s how things worked between her and Jilly. Imagination and rules. Right brain and left. They were a good team. They were best friends. Rose had loved the game, too. And Merry.
    Birdie cringed at the vision of a girl’s small limbs kicking beneath Bahama Blue water. She blinked it