Something Blue: Happy Endings Resort Series, #28
By Erin Lee
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About this ebook
Something old. Something new. Something borrowed…
Callie Johnson has just about everything she needs for her wedding. And what better place to get married than Happy Endings Resort, where residents are always looking for an excuse to throw a good party?
As Callie waits for her soldier to return from training, she relies on the generosity of Happy Ending residents to bring her dream to fruition. But when a surprise package arrives on Callie’s lot, plans go astray; causing Callie to question not only her relationship but everyone around her too.
Is it possible to have a happy ending with, or without, something blue?
Erin Lee
Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.
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Book preview
Something Blue - Erin Lee
Something old.
Something new.
Something borrowed.
Something blue?
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This book is the full-length novella version of Erin Lee’s short, Little Blue Lies.
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Dedication
For all who still make wishes on dandelions. Ya’ll make the world a little brighter.
For M, J, M, N, M, T, R, B, PP, and D, without whom this book would have been completed months sooner. Thank you for reminding me to that the ending is not the most important thing.
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Chapter One
2003
How am I supposed to know what a hippie is? I’m eight years old. I have to pee. I squirm, trying to hold it in as I follow Pappy up a windy gravel path toward the Lazy Lodge, past trees and hand-carved wooden signs that read This Way to the Lodge,
and Rock Stars Stay for Free.
He grumbles about flamingos and nonsense, Callalily.
He tells me, for the hundredth time, that my grand momma, Francine, has lost her God-dammed mind.
Woman’s madder than a wet hen.
He tells us that we best be on our top behavior, as though we’d have the nerve to argue.
I lower my eyes when I spot another sign in the shape of a big, ugly leaf that says Bear’s Place, No Trespassing.
I imagine an angry brown bear hibernating behind the rusty trailer door. I think that bears are herbivores. I can’t be sure, and I’m glad we aren’t staying in a tent.
Pappy grunts and tells my brother only cowards dodge the draft.
I have no idea what that has to do with bears. I keep my mouth shut as Pappy goes on and on and on. We’re not cowards, son. I lied about my age to go to war.
He turns to me, "and don’t you dare think about dating one. I don’t care how much like your momma ya are. Ain’t no Johnson never been a coward. No way, no how. ‘Cept your dammed momma."
My brother, John, rolls his eyes and tells Pappy there is no draft anymore. Pappy grunts again and puffs on his third cigarette, blowing smoke rings to the sky. They float, like bubbles, toward a massive peace sign that hangs above a plum-crazy-purple door. I want to catch them, trap them in my hands, and remind Pappy that smoking causes cancer. I say nothing, wrinkling my nose at a burst of patchouli that seeps through the Lodge door. It reminds me of Grandma.
A hippie, it seems, is a lady with Strawberry Shortcake hair from a rock band named after a jet-powered bomber. Or, it’s who she wants to be, at the very least. This one calls herself an impersonator. I’ll have to look that up if we ever get out of here. A hippie has a partner
—which Pappy says isn’t natural, Callalily
—and a giant bulldog named Stinky who snores, louder than Grandma, on a polka-dot pleather couch.
A hippie, this one anyway, calls herself Rainbow and has a smile brighter than the fluorescent green Lodge walls. I love her tall boots, speckled with yellow butterflies. I forget I have to pee and wonder if she’ll let me pet Stinky. I don’t ask. I reckon it would make Pappy mad. He’s always grumpy lately. He says it’s Momma’s fault—making us raise her God-dammed kids. Acting like we don’t have anything better to do while she runs off with you-know-who. Useless as tits on a bull.
Pappy mumbles through paperwork, telling us Grandma’s off her rocker, sending us to a place like this.
I don’t look at him. I shrug. It’s just how Pappy is. I can’t keep my eyes off Rainbow. She winks at me with glittery eyelashes so thick I’m sure they’re butterfly wings. I want to ask her if she blinks hard enough, can she fly? I bet she can.
We follow her out of the Lodge, down a zigzag trail, this time with less trees, plastic garden trolls and metal signs that remind us to get our groove on
and make ourselves at home. Apparently, we’re looking for our rental cabin, something Rainbow doesn’t seem to have a map to. I hope Momma’s a hippie, too.
I stay ten steps behind, taking long breaths of daytime campfire smog, marshmallow and pine. Kids laugh and call you’re it!
in an above-ground pool, bouncing on blow-up animals so giant I don’t know how there’s room for water. I decide, right then and there, that I’m going to love it at Happy Endings Resort. In fact, this may be the best vacation ever.
Rainbow stops to pick a wilting dandelion. She puts it close to her lips and blows its fragile seeds across the sky. I want to catch them, too, like Pappy’s smoke rings. Instead, I pick one of my own and make a wish. I wish Momma would come home. I reckon she’d love a place like this. And Grandma and Pappy could get on with their lives.
Everyone gets a hammock and a grill. Check out is at noon, ya’ll. We don’t mind, though, if ya sleep in a bit. Besides, you’re here a week, so you don’t have to worry about it. Worry about nothing, doll. No worries, here. It’s cool, ya’ll. Breakfast is in the Lodge, in the back room. But only for guests, not residents.
Rainbow twirls, arms straight out to each side, like she’s hoping to catch the sun, and smiles. Any questions, ya’ll?
"We’re here to fish, Pappy growls.
We ain’t got any interest in a tour or free breakfast. We’ll eat what we catch. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Okay then. Let’s get ya’ll settled,
Rainbow says. Follow me, dolls.
She winks at me again. I hope it means she won’t tell Pappy when I sneak over the Lodge come morning time for breakfast. I hate fish.
We turn twice—first left, then right—down the twisty path before we arrive at our fuchsia-stained log cabin. It waves at us between pine trees and a stump carved into a lively totem pole. I push my fingers in its jagged grooves, touching its rough, square belly and poking it in the nostril. Pappy tells me to hurry up and stop screwing around.
I suck bitter sap off my hands, jogging to catch up.
My Hello Kitty backpack bounces, dancing to woodpecker drums playing from somewhere up above. I wonder if they,