The Forget-Me-Not Summer (17 page)

M
eanwhile, Aunt Sunny, Marigold, and Lily went to the big beach where they'd had the clambake. Aunt Sunny was meeting her friends for what she called a sea chat. A sea chat, Aunt Sunny had explained, was sitting in the water and chitchatting for as long as they pleased. Marigold was going to babysit Lily on the beach while Aunt Sunny talked to her friends in the water.

As soon as Aunt Sunny, Marigold, and Lily climbed over the dune, they saw Peter. He was walking along the beach with his Red Sox cap on and a towel draped over his shoulders, eating a sandwich.

“Hello, Peter,” Aunt Sunny called.

Peter looked up, smiled, and practically ran over to them.

“Hi,” Marigold said, a little breathless from giving
Lily yet another piggyback.

“Hey,” Peter said, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

Marigold put Lily down and raised her sunglasses to the top of her head, where they held back her hair like a headband. She smiled at Peter and couldn't help noticing that his cheeks turned pink, like she'd given him an instant sunburn.

“What are you up to this fine day?” Aunt Sunny asked.

“I'm here with my dad,” he said. “He's surf casting.” He nodded toward a man standing out in the water, holding a long fishing pole. He seemed very far away, and yet the water only came up to his knees.

“What's he hoping to catch?” Aunt Sunny asked.

“Blues,” Peter said. Aunt Sunny nodded. He turned to Marigold. “I'm about to go ride the current. It's fast today. Want to come? We can start at the pond, then float right out to the ocean. But you have to be a really good swimmer or it can carry you pretty far out.”

“Sounds fun,” Marigold said.

“Marigold,” Lily said, and tugged on her sister's sarong, “you said you were going to stay with me, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Marigold said. She looked at Peter. “Lily's afraid of the ocean. We gotta stay on the sand.”

“You're welcome to join me for my sea chat, Lily,” Aunt Sunny said, “especially since you've done such
a terrific job at the YMCA. Why, just yesterday you were floating like a champ all by yourself.”

Lily shook her head. “That's different. That's in a pool.”

“It's okay,” Marigold said to Aunt Sunny. “I'll stay with Lily.”

“I'm counting on you to keep a close eye on her,” Aunt Sunny said to Marigold. Then she waved to her friends, three ladies in bathing caps standing at the water's edge.

“Don't worry, I got it,” Marigold said.

“Yeah,” Peter said to Aunt Sunny. “We got it.”

“Good,” Aunt Sunny said, tucking the ends of her hair into her cap, and went to join her friends.

“I used to be scared of the ocean, too,” Peter said to Lily.

“You were?” Lily asked.

“Sure,” he said, and knelt so that he was eye level with her. “All those big waves. And who knows what's under the water when you can't even see the bottom, right?”

“Right,” Lily said.

“Hey, maybe you can help me,” Peter said. “I have a sea glass collection, and I'm looking for a new piece.”

“What's sea glass?” Lily asked.

“It's a piece of glass that's been in the water so long that it's gotten really smooth and kind of frosty looking. I used to search for pieces when we came to the
beach and I didn't want to go swimming.”

“Cool. What colors do you have?” Marigold asked.

“I have a lot of green, and some blue, and some clear,” Peter said, squinting up at Marigold. Then he turned back to Lily. “But I've always wanted a red piece. They're very rare, but they're the coolest ones of all. If I found one, my collection would be complete.”

“Let's find one,” Lily said.

“Okay,” Peter said, “but you've got to get your feet wet. The best ones are right at the ocean's edge.”

Lily shook her head.

“We'll be right next to you,” Marigold said, “the whole time.”

“If a wave comes, I'll rescue you,” Peter said.

“How strong are you?” Lily asked. Marigold laughed.

“Superman strong,” Peter said, and flexed his muscles. They were small muscles, but still, they were there, and Marigold noticed.

“And how fast can you swim?” Lily asked.

“As fast as a sailfish,” Peter said. “And they're the fastest. Now let's see what you've got, Lily.” Lily flexed her muscles and puffed up her chest. “Wow,” Peter said. “You could probably beat me up.”

“I would never beat you up,” Lily said.

“What about me?” Marigold asked.

“That depends on your attitude,” Lily said, snapping her fingers and striking a pose.

Peter laughed pretty hard at this.

“Thanks a lot,” Marigold said, but Peter's laughter was contagious, and soon she was laughing, too. “So what do you think, Lily?” Marigold asked. “Are you ready to put your toes in the water if Peter is holding your hand?”

“Okay,” Lily said, and grabbed Peter's hand.

“I think she likes you,” Marigold whispered in Peter's ear. With the exception of Martin Goldblatt, she had never been so close to a boy before. If she'd been any closer, she'd be kissing him. He smelled like laundry detergent. In a good way.

Together the three of them walked toward the water's edge. Lily was gripping her hand tightly as the cool, frothy water washed over their toes. Marigold and Peter lifted her up. “Upsy daisy!” Marigold said as they swung her between them. Lily laughed as they put her back down. Marigold couldn't believe it. Lily was up to her ankles in the ocean and laughing!

Then Peter stopped to picked up a rock that was shiny and black with two pinkish stripes that went all the way around it. He rinsed it off in the ocean.

“For you,” he said, and handed it to Lily. “To keep you safe, always.” Lily smiled up at Peter, who in turn smiled up at Marigold.

T
hat night, before dinner but after Lily had recounted how brave she'd been, Zinnie showed Marigold the play. They were sitting at the kitchen table, where Aunt Sunny had asked Zinnie to shell peas and Marigold to shuck corn. Aunt Sunny was placing a pot of boiling water on the stove, checking the chicken that was roasting in the oven, and humming. She said that a sea chat always put her in a glorious mood. Lily was playing with Benny on the mermaid rug. Zinnie handed Marigold her play, which was five handwritten pages held together with a blue paper clip, complete with a title page on which Zinnie had drawn a border of flowers.

“
How Forget-Me-Not Remembered
,” Marigold said. She looked up. “Am I Forget-Me-Not?”

“Of course,” Zinnie said.

Marigold nodded and turned the page. Zinnie held her breath as she watched Marigold read. When she turned to page two, Marigold smiled. Zinnie wanted to ask her what line exactly was making her smile, but more than that, she wanted her to keep reading.

The story Zinnie had come up with was personal, just as Dad had suggested. Forget-Me-Not was a flower growing smack-dab in the middle of a field of wildflowers. She was an ordinary flower. At least, she seemed so. She was simple and blue. She wasn't ugly enough to be named Goatsbeard, like the flowers to her right. Nor was she beautiful enough to be called Ladies' Tresses, like the flowers to her left. In fact, she was so ordinary that no one had ever bothered to name her.

But then something happened. A butterfly told the flowers that their flower field was going to be paved over to build a supermarket. The flowers decided that one of them needed to volunteer to be cut by their friend the hummingbird, for when flowers were cut, they turned into fairies and were granted the powers of flight and human language. Some flowers needed to fly away, find people with hearts and imaginations, and explain that if their field was demolished and paved over, all the flowers would die. The problem was that once flowers became fairies, they could never go back to being flowers. The Ladies' Tresses said that they were too beautiful and important to be cut down. The Goatsbeards were having too much fun to volunteer.

Forget-Me-Not was the perfect candidate because no one would miss her if she were gone. So she volunteered to be cut down by the hummingbird. She sprouted her fairy wings and soared up into the blue, blue sky. She went on a great adventure. First she met a hilarious chicken named Gus. He was hoping to charm the supermarket owners into going vegan with his amazing dance moves. Along their journey, Gus made Forget-Me-Not laugh as he boogied his way into town. Finally Forget-Me-Not found a girl named Hope (this part would be played by Lily), whose parents were building the supermarket.

With her newly acquired ability to speak the language of people, Forget-Me-Not persuaded Hope to come see how pretty the flowers were. Once Hope had set her eyes on the glorious field of wildflowers in full bloom, she convinced her parents not to raze it to build the supermarket. When Forget-Me-Not returned to the wildflowers to tell them all the good news, she also told them her stories about everything she'd seen. Even though Hope didn't live very far away, Forget-Me-Not was still the only flower that had traveled beyond their patch of soil, and she regaled them with tales of the wider world. But of course the best part of the story was Gus.

The other flowers couldn't believe how funny that dancing chicken was or how entertaining Forget-Me-Not had turned out to be. “You are extraordinary,”
they all said to Forget-Me-Not. “Why didn't you tell us you were such a hot tamale?” the Ladies' Tresses asked. “We'll never be able to forget you now because you saved us!” the Goatsbeards added. Forget-Me-Not responded by telling them that she had always been like this. “You can call me and all the flowers who look like me Forget-Me-Not,” she said, “so that when you say the name, you'll remember that everyone has something unforgettable inside.”

Zinnie watched as her sister turned back to the cover page and read the play again. Zinnie had to sit on her hands, she was so excited. When Marigold finished reading it a second time, she sat up straight and took a deep breath. “I'm going to start memorizing my lines.”

Marigold liked it!

Just then there was a knock at the door. “Heavens, I wonder who that is,” Aunt Sunny said. “My hair's a fright. Always is after a sea chat.” She combed her hair with her fingers, took off her apron, and went to answer the door. “Oh, well, if whoever it is thinks I've got bats in the attic, so be it.”

“There are bats in the attic?” Lily asked, but Aunt Sunny had already turned the corner into the living room and was headed toward the front door.

“It's an expression,” Zinnie explained.

“Girls,” Aunt Sunny called from the hallway, “Jean is here, and she has some news for you.”

Marigold, Zinnie, and Lily ran to the door. Jean was standing in the doorway, looking like she was about to jump ten feet in the air.

“I could've called, but I couldn't stand it—I had to tell you in person,” Jean said, and bit her knuckle out of excitement.

“What?” Zinnie asked. Jean looked like she was going to explode.

“Mr. Rathbone is going to judge our contest,” she said, raising her hands in triumph.

Marigold squealed. Lily clapped, though she wasn't sure exactly what was happening. Zinnie stopped breathing. Philip Rathbone, the famous director, was going to personally see her play! Maybe he would want to make her play into a movie, too!

“And . . . ,” Jean said.

“There's an and?” Marigold asked, flapping her hands like little wings.

“And he's going to be filming a portion of
Night Sprites
right here in Pruet! He said he would let the winner have a walk-on role.” The sisters grabbed hands and started jumping up and down. Jean turned to Aunt Sunny, who didn't look nearly as happy as her nieces. “This is good for the local economy, Sunny. There're going to be jobs, not to mention the tourism it will inspire. And my goodness, could we ever use a large donor to help us repair the casino. That roof is a liability.”

“Does he have the correct permits?” Aunt Sunny asked.

“Yes,” Jean said. “He crossed all of his
t
s and dotted his
i
s. In fact, he said he would judge the contest so that he could get to know this community better. He understands he's not that popular with all the natives.”

“Is that what he called us?” Aunt Sunny asked, a hand on her hip. “The natives?”

“That's what I called us,” Jean said. She linked arms with her old friend and gazed at the sisters, who were still jumping up and down like popcorn in a bag. “Would you look at these three?” Aunt Sunny couldn't help smiling.

The oven timer went off.

“Come on, girls,” Aunt Sunny said. “Even Hollywood starlets must eat. Jean, won't you join us? The silver queen corn is sweet as candy this year.”