Mists and Memories

Mists & Memories

Morning is barely a hint beyond the trees when Alice slips quietly out the back door, taking care to ease the rusty hinges closed. Even without sunshine, the air holds on to the muggy heat of the day before. The thin cotton nightdress she wears clings to her bare legs.

Past the gravelled car port, the grass is wet with dew and slick beneath her feet. Footprints mark her passing across the lawn, then disappear into nothing as if the earth is a willing partner in her secret. Sparse moonlight hides behind clouds that threaten summer storms, but she needs no light to guide her way. The path she takes is a familiar one.

Beyond view of the house, she begins to run.

The gown she wears is white, her arms and legs pale in the darkness, but running has brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. Her hair streams loose behind her in shades of fawn and sand. In and out of the shadows of the trees and gilded by what light the stingy clouds spare, the nondescript color comes alive; a strand gleams gold in a disheveled curl, a fleck of brilliance that quickly disappears and blinks again in another lock.

With each step, the years drop away until she almost believes she is nine years old again, broken-hearted and drowning in grief, fleeing a house draped in sadness and despair. Her father meant well. She believes that now and knew it then. The lake house was always their family's escape from work and routine. It was reasonable to suppose that its magic could also heal the pain in their hearts.  For once, though, the magic failed.  For Alice, the familiar walls closed in until escape was her only thought. 

She ran that first morning, too, in bare feet and pajamas that ended high above her ankles, stumbling over rocks and fallen branches, through shadows and moonlight made blurry by the tears she couldn't stop. She ran without thinking, with no clear destination in mind, and only stopped when she reached the end of the slippery wooden pier that jutted out into the lake, when one more step would drop her into the murky water. With nowhere else to go, she fell to her knees and screamed until her throat ached.

The pier was still there, although much of it had been replaced during the intervening years as water and weather made sections unsafe. Alice slows when she reaches it, stepping carefully over the slippery planks. When she reaches the end, she folds herself into a seat and closes her eyes.

It happens almost immediately. A quickening of the air around her. The faintest touch of a breeze, like fingertips brushing against her skin. Her lips curve into a smile.

"Hi, Mom."

"My darling girl."

The beloved and familiar voice is as real to Alice as if she heard it spoken. Indeed, she is never quite sure whether it comes from inside her head or from the mirage of mist and memory that appears beside her. Either way, she never doubts that her mother's return is real. Even that first morning, when the frantic attempt to run away from the overwhelming sadness that burdened her soul takes her to the edge of the pier, she looks at the blurry image sitting beside her and simply believes.

Her mother is formed from the haze that lies just above the surface of the lake, an indistinct mass that wavers with the movement of the air like threads of cotton candy floating loose from the paper cone. She is dressed as she was on the last morning she'd lived, in jeans and a simple t-shirt that still holds a hint of yellow, and sandals on her feet. If the clouds are heavy and the winds are calm, a flash of pink gleams on her toenails. She is forever as she had once been, before a man with too much whiskey in his blood ignored a red light and snuffed out the life she might have lived.

Only Alice changes. Princess pajamas become oversized t-shirts, then morph into cotton pants and tank tops. Her hair is short, then longer, then short again. Every trip to the lake house means more early morning trips to the pier, where she talks until her mother disappears into the sunshine along with the mist over the lake. They speak of the trivial and the earth-shattering. School, boys, menstrual cycles, a best friend's betrayal, a new stepmother, a baby brother. College stretches the time between visits but Alice always comes back. And her mother is always waiting.

"Are you ready for today?"

Alice's smile grows larger as she looks at the shimmering figure beside her. Another milestone is just hours away. She will wear white again, and flowers in her hair.

"I'm ready. The florist will be here this morning to decorate the pier and put up an archway. She kept telling me that I needed a backup in case it rained, but I knew it wouldn't. This is where I want to be married, with you watching. A girl needs her mother on her wedding day, right?"

"You will be beautiful."

"As long as Milo thinks so."

"I think he was also not so convinced about saying your vows out here. He's come down twice to check the pilings and boards, to make sure the two of you won't fall in the lake."

There is amusement in the voice that makes Alice laugh.  "Has he? He hasn't mentioned it but I'm not surprised. He can be very cautious sometimes."

"A worthy companion for a girl who sometimes leaps before she looks. He's very handsome. Are you happy with him?"

"I am, Mom. I love him very much." Alice looks toward the trees, where the sun is just starting to peep through the tallest branches. She is conscious of the minutes passing, of this moment ending, of the next stage of her life beginning. "We're going to buy the lake house from Dad."

"You are? How lovely."

"It was Milo's idea. He knows how much I love it here. If we can upgrade the internet capability, he thinks we might be able to live here all the time. We could even add a few rooms later on, when we have kids."

Alice sees her mother's hand go to her chest, as if the heart no longer there has skipped a beat.

"Oh, grandchildren. I hadn't allowed myself to hope."

Alice blinks away the tears that make her mother's figure even more blurry. The sunlight has reached the first planks of the pier.

"Will you still be here to see them?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The tears come harder now, choking off the words in her throat. "I was afraid . . . now that I'm an adult and after I'm married . . . I was afraid that you might think that I didn't need you anymore. And I do, Mom. I still need you."

"Then I will be here for you.  Always." 

A breeze sweeps over the lake. To Alice, it feels like a loving hand smoothing her hair. "Thank you."

The sunlight creeps up the pier. The mists on the lake disappear into the warm air like dandelion seeds floating away.

"It's time for you to go. It takes a lot of time to transform into a bride."

"I know. Mom?"

"Yes?"

Just this once, Alice is tempted to ask the question. To find out the truth of the years of conversations they've had. Then she shakes her head, because the answer is already in her heart.

"I love you."

Her mother's words are lost in the bright sunshine that finally, fully claims the lake. Alice gets to her feet and brushes the dirt from the back of her nightgown. A bright sparkle catches her eye. A brooch rests on the planks where her mother had been. Moonstone, as large as her thumb, cradled by ropes of braided silver. Light shimmers across the stone like mist on a moonlit lake. "Something old," for her wedding day.

Alice cradles the brooch close to her chest and runs back toward the house.