Lucy
August came. August in Minnesota is a miserable month, thick with heat and the buzzing of horseflies as big as grapes. In the towns it’s something to suffer through, especially in those days before air conditioners, when people sat inside with the windows shut and the drapes drawn and children spent hard-won nickels on fountain sodas that cooled them only for a moment. But our lake was so deep it never fully gave up the cold of winter, and the shock of it against our hot skin made even the worst days bearable. At night we slept with our windows open, listening to the crickets and the frogs, in sleeveless nightgowns under white sheets, as waterfed breezes cooled our faces.
One morning, not long after the scene in the lodge with Abe and Mayor Lloyd, I woke to find Father sitting on my
