The Passing Storm. Emily Rennie

Costas had turned her back.

      “Oh, no biggie,” Chelsea replied. I could hear the smile in her voice, and from that day on we were best friends.

      I giggled at the memory, and with a tinge of guilt regretted that the visit with Grandma was keeping me from Chelsea, soccer, Mom, and everything else back home.

      After I toweled off, I reached for my pajamas on the counter where I had left them, and was surprised to see them neatly folded on the toilet seat. Gabby, I shook my head. I wrapped myself in the towel and opened the bathroom door quickly, hoping to surprise her as she hovered outside the door like a spy. But she wasn’t there.

      “Gabby?” I called, expecting to hear her nearby bubbling over with giggles for pulling a fast one. I couldn’t hear a peep, so I knew she must be in the family room with Grandma. Gabby could never suppress a laugh.

      Perplexed, I shut the door and dressed. I started wiping down the mirror, which was coated with steam from my shower. Suddenly I shivered, as if a cool breeze wafted through the bathroom. I checked the window, and like every other window in the house it was closed to keep the hot Texas night out and the air conditioning in. I felt as if I weren’t alone in the bathroom anymore, and the hair on my neck prickled. I quickly turned, hoping that Gabby had snuck in and was trying to spook me—but no one was there. I turned back to the mirror, trying to shake off the chills, but I couldn’t help thinking about the episode in the living room earlier that afternoon, and the strange dream I’d had at Libby’s.

      Impatient for the mirror to clear, I picked up the colorful jars and bottles Grandma had on the counter, like a miniature city filled with tiny buildings and scaled-down skyscrapers. I sniffed a jar of cold cream and was almost startled at how much it smelled like Grandma. Occasionally, someone or someone’s bathroom smells like that cold cream, and suddenly I’ll feel transported to the dry, flat plains of Crisper; to the comforting feel of Grandma’s soft hands as she brushes my hair. I leaned over the counter and inhaled the scent that drifted over the collection, like a cloud of Grandma’s own fragrance.

      As I pulled back I caught something shiny out of the corner of my eye. Tucked in the middle of the beauty products was a silver charm bracelet. Curious, I picked it up and it tinkled softly. It didn’t seem like something Grandma would wear, and it looked quite aged and dirty. Circling the chain at evenly spaced intervals were a horse, a ballerina, a cowboy boot, a book, and a heart—petite metal symbols of someone’s loves and interests; or perhaps simply chosen on a whim, or given as a gift. A broken link dangling from the chain seemed to indicate that a charm was missing. I dried my hair, brushed my teeth, and headed into the den where Grandma and Gabby sat side-by-side on the sofa watching television.

      “Grandma, how come you never wear this?” I asked, sitting down on the other side of her and handing her the bracelet.

      Grandma put on her glasses and peered at it. Her eyes narrowed and she swallowed hard.

      “Well, I’ll be,” she drawled. “I haven’t seen this in quite some time.” She put down her glasses, closed her eyes, and rolled the bracelet around in her hand, feeling the delicate weight of it. She sighed heavily, as if suddenly very tired.

      “This belonged to my sister Ginny.” She opened her eyes and handed it back to me. “You can have it if you want to, hon. It’s a bit dirty, though. Let me see if I have any cleaning solution. Where’d you find it anyway?”

      “On the bathroom counter,” I replied.

      “Really?” she answered, puzzled. “I cleaned that bathroom just before y’all arrived and it wasn’t there.” I touched the bracelet and thought about the chills I’d experienced just before I saw it. An inexplicable feeling made me want to put it on right away; maybe to feel closer to Ginny, or to honor her memory in some way. I’ve got it Ginny, I thought, I’ll take good care of it. A warmth filled me, as if from somewhere far away—yet intimately close—Ginny was smiling.