How Tía Lola Saved the Summer (17 page)

“Cool!” Essie is on her feet, ready to go. And they better move it. Rain is headed their way. She has been hearing the rumbles of thunder. Any minute now, Papa’s going to suggest they go indoors before they all get struck by lightning or catch their death of cold.

But strangely, Papa says nothing, as if he, too, is under
the spell of Tía Lola’s voice. The fire crackles. Far off, the bullfrogs are serenading the Swords goodbye.
Day is done, gone the Swords, from the lakes, from the hills, from Vermont.…

“Shouldn’t we go get our flashlights, Tía Lola?” Essie asks. How else to navigate their way on this dark night without a star or sliver of moon in the sky?

“It isn’t that kind of a treasure hunt, Esperanza,” Tía Lola explains, using her musical name. Each time Tía Lola says it, another ray of sunshine works its way into Esperanza’s once-upon-a-time-gloomy heart. No more! She is full of high hopes for her storybook life. “This treasure adventure takes place in our imagination.” Tía Lola taps her head, and the swing of her arm makes a great, shadowy wing flap around the circle.

Essie groans and sits back down. What’s a treasure hunt without a search for clues and a lot of running around? But Essie doesn’t despair, because if she has learned one thing this week, it’s that Tía Lola can turn anything into fun.

“Here’s how it works. Listen well. A word to the wise is
suficiente
!” Tía Lola has been learning so many sayings in English this summer. By fall, she is going to be a wise woman in two languages. “I want each of you to think of something especial from this week that you’d like everyone to have.”

The silence around the circle reminds Miguel of English class after Mrs. Prouty gave them one of her hard assignments. The difference is that his aunt is always good about explaining things. But before she can, Essie is already asking, “So how exactly is this a treasure hunt, Tía Lola?”

“A treasure
adventure.
We are not hunting treasure, Esperanza,
we’re actually filling up the chest”—Tía Lola taps her chest—“with treasures that we can reach in and use when we need them. All we will have to do is think back on tonight.”

Essie nods several deep, all-knowing nods, like now she gets it. Maybe that’s why Tía Lola asks her if she would like to start. Uncharacteristically, Essie, who always likes to be first, says she’ll pass for now.

“Can we participate?” Carmen asks, nodding toward Papi. “I mean, we haven’t been here all week. But I’ve gotten so much just in one day. I’d like to give something back to the treasure chest.”

“Of course you can participate!” Tía Lola says. “Any contribution means there’s more treasure in our chest. But first, before you put your treasure into words, everybody should close their eyes.”

“How come?” Cari wants to know. She isn’t sure she wants to close her eyes. It’s already dark and scary enough.

“Because the treasure is imaginary, so you have to picture it. And once you do, it’s inside you,” Tía Lola explains. “Like when you are dreaming in the day.”

“You mean daydreaming?” Cari likes for words to be just right.

“Exactly!” Tía Lola claps her hands.

Cari closes her eyes, and surprisingly, it’s not scary at all. Like a theater with the lights off and a fun, unscary movie about to start.

“Cierren los ojos,”
Tía Lola reminds the others. They all close their eyes, presumably also Tía Lola, but who can tell with their eyes closed?

“Okay, here’s what I’d like to put in our imaginary treasure chest,” Carmen begins. “A huge bag of gratitude. I hope that’s the kind of treasure you mean, Tía Lola?” Carmen cracks open her eyes and sees Tía Lola at the center of the circle, her eyes closed, smiling. “I feel so grateful,” Carmen continues, “grateful to Linda for letting us all stay under one roof, grateful to Tía Lola for sharing her room, grateful to Miguel and Esperanza for playing such an exciting baseball game, grateful to Juanita for her beautiful flowers.…”

Miguel feels a few drops on his face. Carmen sounds sincerely grateful. But somebody better cut her off, or the treasure chest is going to end up as a rain bucket.

“I feel so grateful to be a part of two wonderful families—my friend Víctor’s family and Daniel’s. And Linda’s,” Carmen adds, wanting to compliment everybody. “Anytime anyone needs a little gratitude, just reach inside our treasure chest.”

“¡Perfecto!”
Tía Lola says, complimenting Carmen for her perfect contribution.

Victoria has been making her own mental list of things she is grateful for. But without a certain addition, most of the things on her list cancel out. “I have something to add to our treasure chest, if I can go next,” Victoria offers. It’s something she has learned this week that she really needs now in her life. She takes a deep, brave breath and plunges ahead. “I’d like to put in independence.”

Victoria senses her father’s sadness traveling around the circle. Oh, Papa, she feels like saying, please, please, please, let me go! I promise I’ll always come back again. “If you
don’t have independence, how can you follow your dreams?” Victoria is addressing the whole group, but she is really talking to her father. “Say you want to study Spanish in Mexico or move to Vermont to live in nature …” Her voice drifts off. She’s not ready to share another aspect of being independent: having a boyfriend. Her father would go ballistic.

“You need independence to become who you are.” Linda helps her out. “I would never be where I am today without it.”

“You said it!” Carmen agrees. “I used every ounce of independence I had to go to law school. That’s why I’m so grateful you are putting some in our chest, Victoria. I definitely need a refill.”

Víctor can’t deny the truth of these testimonies. He is a lawyer, after all. “If you’re ready for more, Tía Lola …” In the silence, the fire—or Tía Lola—whispers,
“Sí, sí, sí,”
giving Víctor the go-ahead.

Miguel braces himself. If Víctor mentions love or marriage, will that change the warm, wonderful mood of this circle?

“I choose dreams,” Víctor says dreamily. Miguel isn’t too surprised, given how Víctor helped him achieve his dream of playing in today’s game. “We should never let go of them, whatever they may be, whether it’s playing baseball or being an artist”—nice of him to include this for Papi’s benefit—“or marrying the one you love. Dreams are our life’s blood. So, I am going to put a big hunk of this wish in our treasure chest, Tía Lola!”

“There’s room for it,” Tía Lola says, laughing. That is
the nice thing about the imagination. It’s expandable, reversible, flexible, durable, etc., etc., etc.

Juanita has been trying really hard to picture each person’s contribution. It hasn’t been easy. What are you supposed to picture for gratitude or independence or dreams? But Tía Lola did say you could pick something you loved from this week’s summer camp to contribute to the chest. “I want to put in flowers, magical flowers that bloom all year round.”

From the silence that greets her announcement, Juanita wonders if she didn’t play this game right. She can hear her brother’s voice in her head, just like the first night of the Swords’ arrival, when Juanita tore the clue at the treasure hunt. Miguel didn’t call her stupid out loud, but she could see it written all over his face. Now, with her eyes closed, she can’t read his expression, but she can sense what he is thinking: That’s a stupid treasure! “Are flowers okay?” Juanita asks Tía Lola. She is ready to argue her case, something she has learned this week from Essie and her sisters. Flowers should be allowed! For one thing, they are a lot easier to picture than anything else anyone has said so far.

“I think flowers are something we can all use more of,” Tía Lola approves wholeheartedly. “They remind us that even the most amazing feat begins with a little seed of effort, watered with a whole lot of patience and practice.”

Juanita knows Miguel didn’t actually say anything against her flower treasure. But she feels like turning to her brother and saying, “So there!”

Now that Juanita has chosen flowers, Cari wants to add something she loves from nature as well. “Can I put in tadpoles?
Also, their mothers and fathers,” she adds. After all, Cari would not want any treasure that involved making orphans, even if they’re just frogs.

This is getting a little silly, Miguel is thinking. By now, he understands how this adventure works. The treasure chest is for special feelings or things you learned this week. But Tía Lola being Tía Lola, she has a way of turning even a ridiculous contribution into something worthwhile.

“I think tadpoles and frogs together are a great addition for our imaginary treasure chest,” Tía Lola tells Cari. “And we don’t even have to take the real ones out of their pond.”

“But wait a minute.” Essie is back to her contrary self. “How are frogs and tadpoles supposed to be treasure?”

“Because!” Cari snaps right back. She has learned to be brave and bold this week. The two sisters have opened their eyes and are glaring at each other, which is against the rules of this treasure adventure.

“Girls,” their father reminds them.

“Close your eyes,” Tía Lola says more gently. “Imagine those necklaces of eggs, how they turn into tadpoles, how the tadpoles turn into frogs.… This is very valuable treasure. Our lives are full of changes. And at each stage, we get to be a whole new person, but with our old selves still inside us.”

Cari’s chest swells with pride. She doesn’t totally understand what Tía Lola means, but she has been vindicated.

“Thank you for your treasure, Cari.” It’s Miguel’s father speaking up now. “I, of all people around this circle, have definitely been through many changes. I hope for the better.”

Mami doesn’t say anything. But when Miguel cracks open his eyes, he catches a glimpse of Carmen touching Papi’s knee, as if she certainly agrees.

“What I’d like to put in the circle is second chances. So if we make a mistake, we can get the opportunity to try again and do better.”

A different kind of silence now travels around the circle. As if Papi were speaking directly to Mami through his addition to the treasure chest. And Mami would be the first to admit that everybody makes mistakes. She’s always telling Miguel to just pick himself up and try again.

Mami clears her throat so everyone knows she wants to speak up next. “Forgiveness,” she says, plain and simple. “I think it’s important to forgive so you can move on with an open heart.” She doesn’t offer any further explanation. Maybe Miguel is imagining it, but he hears the fire whispering,
Yes, yes, yes.

He is about to take his turn when Esperanza speaks up. “Friendship. I want to put in friendship. That’s what’s made me love Vermont most of all.”

“I love Vermont,” her little sister agrees, mending the rift between them.

“Friendship is a wonderful addition,” Tía Lola says. “Without it, the world is a lonely place.”

For some reason, Colonel Charlebois pops into Essie’s head. She wonders if he has found some renters so he doesn’t have to be so lonely in his big, empty house. If only her family could move in! But it doesn’t look like this will be happening. Neither Papa nor Linda has said a word about future plans. Essie is going to have to reach into that
chest, even before she leaves Vermont, in order to
forgive
them both for disappointing her.

Valentino barks, reminding everyone that he, too, is a part of this circle. But unlike them, he can only express himself with tail wags, sighs, barks. Maybe that is his addition to the treasure chest: company that doesn’t need to use words. You can sit quietly around a campfire with friends and feel totally happy.

“Okay, Tía Lola.” Miguel takes the final turn. “What I want to put in is also a present for you, okay?”

Now it’s Tía Lola breaking her own rule, opening her eyes.
“¿Para mi?”
She is surprised that her nephew came prepared with a gift
for her
when he didn’t even know about this treasure adventure she thought up for their last night together.

“Yes, for you,” Miguel says, picking up his sword. By now they have all opened their eyes so that they can see what the gift for Tía Lola might be. Miguel hopes his aunt won’t be too disappointed that he’s just giving back something she gave him. “I want you to have my sword. See, it says ‘Tía Lola,’ and the smiley face is for happiness. That’s what I want to put in the treasure chest, happiness, with a big chunk of it for you to keep for yourself.”

A wide smile spreads across Tía Lola’s face. In fact, she looks like the model for the big smiley face on her new sword.
“¡Gracias!”
she says, accepting the gift from her nephew.

Seconds later, as if it, too, has been waiting to say
gracias
, the sky lets loose its splashy gratitude. The rain pours down, sending a whole circle of happy campers scurrying indoors.
The garden gratefully soaks it in. Everyone makes a dash for the house, leaving their swords behind. What does it matter anymore? The swords have served their purpose. Meanwhile, the treasure chest is full, mostly with what everyone learned and loved this week of Tía Lola’s summer camp.

Only Essie runs back, to retrieve her samurai sword. It is so thoroughly soaked, she leaves it unsheathed in the mudroom overnight so that the blade and scabbard can dry off. In the morning, when she checks them before breakfast, the sword is dry, but the scabbard is still damp inside.

Brunch is a hectic affair, everyone’s luggage lying around as if they were in an airport, but with none of the excitement of a plane trip in the offing. Only a long, boring car ride back to the city. The kids feel glum. The rain doesn’t help. At one point when Essie glances out the back window of the house, the campfire looks like a tiny pond surrounded by seven cast-off Excaliburs. Papa seems sad, and Linda unusually subdued, though with all the commotion of parting, it’s hard to tell for sure.

Right after brunch, Papi and Carmen and Abuelito and Abuelita depart. Soon it’s the Swords in the mudroom, packing up for their trip home. In the kitchen, Mami and Tía Lola are preparing a basket with snacks for them to take. Papa has pulled the van up on the lawn so he can load the back with their suitcases and backpacks without getting too wet. He works grimly, as if he were sealing up the entrance to his heart with each piece of luggage he stuffs inside.