My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer Read online

  I pictured Lauren’s mother’s angry face. “What about the sign?”

  “Maybe it means the Abenaki are going to take Vermont back from us white men.”

  I looked at him strangely.

  “Or”—he slapped a branch away—“Vermont’s got to go back to the days of no electricity and wood-burning stoves.”

  I started to catch on. “No, it means let’s take Vermont back to when everybody had to grow their own food and shovel snow by hand.”

  “Let’s go back to the days of outhouses!” shouted Luke. “A ban on indoor plumbing!”

  I laughed. “That’s it! That’s what they want! No more toilets and hot tubs!”

  “We’ll have to wash in the lake,” he said. “Race you!”

  We broke into a run across the meadow.

  Blue lights flashing outside the marina stopped us.

  “What happened?” Luke asked.

  A cop was talking to Mom and Eva. Joe was there, too, looking sleepy. Mom must have motored over and woken him up.

  “Oh, June, there you are,” Mom said, and pulled me in for a hug.

  “You were worried?” Luke and I always went wherever we wanted. “You said come back at lunch.”

  “I did, I did.” But Mom didn’t let go.

  “What’s going on?” Luke asked.

  “Thank you for your time.” Eva was shaking the police officer’s hand.

  “We’ll keep an eye on things,” he said.

  Joe patted Luke on the back. “You go home and let these gals talk things over. I’ll watch the shop for a bit,” he said to Mom and Eva. “Remember, I’m just a boat ride away.”

  It was strange enough that Eva hadn’t gone to work—we’d been gone an hour at least. Even now she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Why hadn’t she gone? Why didn’t she just leave Mom and me alone, instead of causing a scene? I turned back and watched Luke row out to their island. Suddenly, I wished I had stayed on the stool in the marina shop, just selling sandwiches and pie.

  Chapter Three

  “WHERE WERE YOU?” Eva demanded once we got inside.

  I turned to Mom. “Who’s asking?”

  “We worry, that’s all.” Mom dropped her arm from around Eva. “You didn’t see anybody, anything strange?”

  “We were up by the old camp,” I said. I kept quiet about the cliff jumping.

  Like a sixth sense, Mom seemed to know. “You’re a long way up from the lake on that trail,” she said. “Be careful you don’t slip.”

  “June is not the problem,” Eva said. She rubbed her hands. “Last spring, and now this—”

  “We’re OK,” Mom said, catching Eva’s hands. “No one’s hurt, and that’s all that matters.”

  “This time,” Eva said.

  “Why were the police here?” I asked.

  Mom let go of Eva and dragged a flat of berries onto the table. “Here, let’s cut up these strawberries.” She handed me a knife and began hulling and slicing them. I stood there for a moment, knife in hand, and watched them. No one was going to answer my question.

  Eva unfolded the newspaper. “There’s another headline, MJ.”

  Mom nodded. “Things may get worse before they get better.”

  “If they get better,” Eva said.

  I didn’t sit down. “What’s going to get worse?”

  Eva folded the newspaper again and put it in the basket on the table. “A lot of people are angry since the law allowing same-gender couples to hold civil ceremonies went into effect in July.”

  I stabbed my knife into a strawberry. “I didn’t think you cared what other people thought.”

  “June.” Mom motioned for me to sit. “Chop.”

  I sat down and began thwacking the blade on the cutting board.

  Eva smoothed her hair behind her ears. “Some people are trying to elect new senators and even a governor who would repeal the law.”

  “They want to erase the law, in a sense,” Mom explained.

  “Let them,” I said. The law made people angry. I had seen it twice—once at the softball game, and now with Sam.

  “You don’t mean that,” Mom said, and Eva chimed in, “It’s important to us.”

  To you, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. I sliced another strawberry. “What does ‘Take Back Vermont’ mean?”

  “I was hoping you hadn’t seen that sign,” Mom said.

  “I’m not a baby.”

  Mom set down her knife. “Some people think Vermont will be taken over by gay people if this law remains. They want Vermont to be just for Vermonters, not outsiders.”

  “We are Vermonters,” I said.

  “That’s the point,” Eva said.

  “Did you call the police?” I asked Mom.

  “We had to report the sign.”

  “That’s not all.” Eva paced by the window. “We found a note on the car about how lesbians shouldn’t be allowed to raise children.”

  “Eva!” Mom said. She gave my hand a squeeze. “That’s why I was afraid for you. But don’t worry about it, June.”

  I held on. “You’re my mom.” She’d given birth to me. No one could change that. But I knew who the problem was. It didn’t surprise me that Eva was looking out the window.

  I sliced a large strawberry fast. When it was just Mom and me, I used to pretend I had a dad who was a salesman, always away. Later, I understood that Mom went out on dates with special friends, and sometimes I met them. But no one lasted. Not until Eva. I threw the strawberry pieces into the bowl. The dad story ended the day Eva moved in. It had been one month, and nothing seemed better.

  Mom took my hand and held it tight. “I always told you that I chose you—that I wanted to raise a child even though I wasn’t going to marry a man.”

  I nodded. It was a familiar story.

  “And now I’ve chosen Eva, too,” she said softly.

  “You told me.”

  “We’ve chosen each other,” Eva said, moving next to Mom, their smiles matching.

  “What about me?” I stood up.

  “We’re a family now.” Mom pulled me close. “Honey, we weren’t going to tell you until later, but we’ve talked about it. We’d like to have a civil union ceremony.”

  “The new law protects us,” Eva said, “and especially you.”

  I pulled back, not listening. “You want to get married?”

  That meant Eva was going to be with us always. Tidying up around the kitchen, talking endlessly about politics, nosing into my life. Would there be a picture in the newspaper? I imagined Lauren snickering in the hall at school, I saw your moms’ wedding announcement, congratulations. And who did they think would come besides Luke’s dad? Nobody wanted to see two women kissing—not even their friends. Kissing—anyone—was something I couldn’t think about right now.

  “We can talk about the wedding later,” Eva said. “What’s more important is your safety.” Her pager buzzed. “I’ve got to go. You two be careful, OK?”

  “We’re just making pies,” I said. “Like we always do.”

  Mom and I kept hulling and slicing strawberries, our knives thudding together.

  “No worries, OK?” Mom said, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “We asked Joe if he had heard or seen anything last night, but he hadn’t. Someone is trying to scare us, but we think it was some kids who didn’t know what they were doing was illegal.”

  No worries, right. It was an old game of ours, but there was plenty to worry about. The thought of the note and sign as a prank didn’t make me feel better. It could have been Sam. He knew exactly what this was about. But he wouldn’t go to the trouble—he had been planning to go cliff jumping, right? Yet imagining a grownup sneaking around was even worse.

  My head ached, and Mom’s silence seeped into me so I couldn’t speak. When the bell dinged down at the marina shop, I jumped up to take Joe’s place.

  “Hey, June, maybe you can try a little harder to be friendly to Eva,” Mom added. I rolled my eyes.

&n
bsp; ***

  I WAS EDGY all afternoon, suspicious of everyone who came into the store. Was there a way to tell if someone hated gay people or not? The way they held their change or chose apple pie instead of raspberry-strawberry? A man from the New York side of the lake bought some gas. Three French Canadians sailed down from Montreal and wanted picnic supplies. They bought two wrapped cookies.

  Slowly, after selling marine maps, oil, full pies and slices, I stopped worrying. Most people just saw a kid working the cash register. They didn’t know about Mom and Eva. But I couldn’t get the picture of their wedding out of my head. If Mom and Eva had a civil union ceremony, then everybody would know.

  Mom finally relieved me in the shop, and I jumped into the lake. I swam hard, washing away all the anxiety of the day, only coming up for air every four strokes. Dusk is the best time on the lake—when the calm often returns and the water turns inky black. The sun was casting its last light on Luke’s island and the Green Mountains beyond. I floated on my back, thinking of my small self in this giant lake, all one hundred and ten miles of it. It was holding me, gently, like a hug from a friend.

  I didn’t notice Luke until his rowboat was almost on top of me.

  “Watch where you’re going,” he said. “I almost ran over you!”

  “Watch yourself.” I rocked his boat.

  “Hey!” he shouted, and pretended to fall in. We splashed each other and dove for rocks, letting his boat drift in the shallow water.

  “This one’s perfect for skipping.” Luke flicked the flat stone hard. We watched it skim three, four, five times.

  “Watch this.”

  “Not bad,” he said as it bounced three times.

  For a while we were silent, scooping up rocks and skipping them.

  “I heard Mrs. Costa’s entering her pies, too,” he said.

  “At the fair?” I thought of her professional farm stand pies—she won a ribbon every year. “But I’ll be in the kids’ section, anyway. We won’t be competing.”

  “Her pies are pretty good,” Luke said.

  “Not as good as mine!” An idea crept into my mind. To win the kids’ division, I’d have to be as good as Mrs. Costa. Their farm produced the best strawberries, and Mrs. Costa probably used homemade butter in the crust, churned from cow’s milk.

  “Maybe we should go visit Tina,” Luke said as if reading my mind. “Do some sampling of her mom’s pies—compare notes.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Tina and I aren’t really friends right now.”

  He skipped another rock. “You don’t think Sam had anything to do with the sign, do you?”

  I shook my head. Even though I’d wondered, too, it was hard to imagine.

  “C’mon—I’ll flash my green light tomorrow when I’m ready to go,” he said, climbing back into his boat. Then he paused. “I’ll look for your red light if there’s trouble, OK?”

  “Pie trouble, you mean?”

  He grinned. “I’ll row right over.”

  “Thanks.” I watched his oars turn as he rowed home. Neither of us had ordinary families—how many kids live without a car or phone on an island?—but mine took the prize. I turned from the lake and walked up to the house. Through the kitchen window, I could see Mom and Eva preparing dinner together. Mom was smiling while Eva talked. I closed my eyes and wished it were just the two of us again. Then I could pretend my parents were divorced and that my dad was on the road, selling stuff, and everyone would leave us alone.

  Chapter Four

  THE NEXT MORNING, the lake was frenzied, all choppy and wavy. I rested my head on my hands and watched the water crash against the shore, battering it. Just like the angry words crashing around in my head.

  Downstairs, I could hear Eva talking about the wedding, about whether black-eyed Susans would be better than Queen Anne’s lace on every table. Mom was too busy; I could tell. She was saying uh huh to everything as if she cared.

  I flicked on my weather radio to drown out Eva’s voice. “Today, northwest wind five to ten knots, waves around one foot,” the announcer said in his gravelly voice. “The Lake Champlain lake level at the King Street ferry dock is ninety-six point six feet. The water temperature is sixty-seven degrees. Chance of afternoon showers.”

  It was comforting to hear the weatherman say what I could see—clouds low, waves crashing. Maybe it was a good day to make plans for the Champlain Valley Fair pie competition. I let my mind fill with memories of pies—ones I’d made and those I’d had from Mrs. Costa’s farm stand. I examined my fingertips, still faintly red from hulling strawberries the day before. Maybe I’d make strawberry-rhubarb tonight. Maybe Luke was right—I could get some ideas from Mrs. Costa.

  I turned away from the water and stared at the ceiling. No way did I want to go visit Tina, not even for pie research. Even with Luke with me, I didn’t want to run into her brother.

  The only person I wanted to see was Luke. I looked out the window, but his signal was yellow. I got up and clambered down out of the loft.

  “Good morning, June,” Mom said from the breakfast table. Eva was filling her travel mug with coffee. “Luke dropped by to say he and his father were heading into Burlington all day.”

  So much for doing something with my one friend. I popped a slice of bread in the toaster.

  “Shelly called,” Mom said.

  “Mrs. Costa?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Costa.” Mom looked at me. “She said she needs some sixteen-plait running rigging. I told her you could bike some over today.”

  “Won’t that be too heavy?” Eva asked. “I could drive.”

  Mom and I exchanged a look. “It’s just rope,” she explained.

  I took a bite of toast. I didn’t want to go without Luke. “Don’t you need me at the marina?”

  “I need you to run this errand to the Costas.” Mom put her arm around my shoulders. “I hope you’re not hiding from your friend, just because grownups disagree sometimes.”

  I didn’t say anything, flushing at the memory of Tina’s silence after Eva’s outburst. Obviously, Mom and Mrs. Costa were talking again, although I couldn’t see how. Mom and Eva had been really mad at her after the softball game. Tina and I hadn’t talked at all.

  Mom handed me my backpack. “Shelly said Tina is going to enter Moonbeam in the fair this year.”

  Last year it was Sam who had entered a calf, his father patting him on the back, guiding him. Tina and I had just hung around, too young to participate. It was our turn now. She would be in the dairy animals category and I would be in the culinary arts. Maybe it would be OK. Maybe we could talk about the fair and not about families.

  I put on the backpack. “Did you pick up the entry form for the competition?”

  “Not yet,” Mom said.

  “I’m going to make the best pie ever,” I said as I banged out the door on the way to the marina to get the rigging.

  ***

  IT WAS A short bike ride to the Costa Farm, along the shore, past the town, and then north. Once I left the lake, the day was muggy and hot, and my pedaling slowed. I wasn’t in a hurry to get there, which gave me plenty of time to think. I hadn’t talked to Tina since the game. I missed talking to her. She was probably busy around the farm, though, taking care of Moonbeam. I had been busy, too, so maybe that was why we hadn’t called each other.

  By the time I reached the farm, I was dying for a drink, and I had convinced myself that if Mom and Mrs. Costa were talking, then everything would be fine between Tina and me.

  “Good to see you, June,” Mrs. Costa said from behind the farm stand counter. She sounded as if she meant it. “Do you have the rigging?”

  I took it out of my backpack. “Mom said we’ll put it on your tab.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “You tell her that’s very kind,” Mrs. Costa said. “Tina, take a break and give June some lemonade in the kitchen.”

  Tina was weighing a bag of potatoes for a customer. Our summer diffe
rences were already showing. I was lake- wet almost all the time, and Tina was dusty-freckled, although her pink nail polish sparkled as her fingers punched the register keys.

  “That’s three ninety-five, please.” Tina hefted the bag over the counter. She was a wiz on the cash register, just like me. When we were in second grade, our teacher had been amazed with our speedy adding and subtracting.

  “I want to check on Moonbeam first,” Tina said. “C’mon.” She disappeared out the back door of the stand.

  The barn was dark, cool, and quiet. Moonbeam’s hide shone like a light in the corner of his stall. He was chewing quietly.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Tina said. “I weighed him this morning and he’s thirteen hundred and sixty-two pounds. That’s champion-size.” She entered the stall with a brush in hand. Moonbeam turned around to nuzzle her. I climbed up on the rail—no need to get too close to something thirteen times heavier than me.

  I was quiet as Tina worked on Moonbeam, grateful that she hadn’t mentioned Eva’s craziness. It felt like old times.

  “I hope you win,” I said. “Did you hear I’m entering the pie competition?”

  “Maybe we’ll both get blue ribbons,” she said. “What are you going to make?”

  “I can’t decide. What’s your mom making?”

  “Strawberry, probably.” Tina brushed Moonbeam’s flank. “Whatever you do, I know it will be the best. My mom said the other day you make good pies.”

  “She did?” Liking my pies was the same as liking me and my family, wasn’t it? “I think hers are good, too.”

  “All Moonbeam needs is water. Then let’s go to the kitchen and see what’s left.”

  Tina handed me the hose and turned the water on. I filled up Moonbeam’s water trough and cooled myself down with a quick splash on my head. I shook my hair out like a wet dog as we walked up to the main house.

  The kitchen was full of brothers—Tim eating a slice of pie and Sam pouring milk.

  “Look who walked in—did you fall in the lake?” Sam asked. “Or jump? Oh wait, you’re too chicken.”

  I flushed and started to snap back, but Tina spoke first.

  “What are you talking about? June lives in the lake.” Tina took down two glasses and poured us both some lemonade. “I’ve never been over to her house when we didn’t end up in the water.”