Addy's Redemption: A Novel. Juliana Ormsby

He’s not here to see!

      Mary tended to be neater than her brothers were. She knew exactly where she had placed her beautiful new bathing suit. She had picked it out herself. It was a pink and yellow floral and butterfly print trimmed at the top with a small pink ruffle. The pink straps crossed in the back and were held together by a lovely appliquéd butterfly.

      Addy struggled to pull her new old lady’s dowdy swim dress up over her thunderous thighs. Suddenly the picture of the Italian lady’s huge rump flashed again across her mind. Laughing aloud, Addy said to herself, “Now I know how she felt.”

      Addy gathered up a beach blanket, towels, fruit, and some bug spray. She asked the kids if they would like sandwiches for dinner after they got home from the beach. The spontaneity of the situation was too rare a treat for the kids to comprehend at first.

      “Sandwiches for dinner?” Peter questioned. Then, three birds trilling with joy, chirped, “Sure, Wow, Great.”

      Addy, too, already felt lighter inside. She had spent so many hours of her life making dinners for the family that putting sandwiches together for supper was going to be a new experience. Maybe she would place all the fixings in assembly-line fashion on the counter so the kids could create their own sandwiches.

      Addy didn’t want to walk down the stone stairs to the beach just below McKenna’s Sea Side Grill. It was not a very pretty beach; the sand looked rough, and it was still crowded with noisy people. When she had flipped through the O’Malley’s loose-leaf notebook that contained restaurant menus and other tidbits of information about the area, she found a flyer for Wells Town Beach. If you had a sticker on your car, you could park free in the beach lot all summer. Of course, walkers entered the beach free any time of the day. The kids divided the towels and other beach gear and trudged over to the Town Beach. There were just a few cars still left in the lot. A long wooden board pathway wound its way through sand dunes to the ocean. It was quite a hike up the inclined trail to the water. Addy was out of breath, but her slender kids bobbed along cheerfully. Why had she “let herself go?”

      On the horizon, Addy saw the peacock blue water sparking in the late afternoon sun. She stepped out of her beach slippers and let the sugar white sand sift through her toes. Addy felt as if her heart would erupt. Yes, the Connecticut shore was nice, but something about this Maine beach was so different. It felt timeless, eternal ... Antique maps; spyglasses; young men shipping out on fishing vessels; women waiting breathlessly at the wharf’s edge to greet their sweethearts returning home from sea voyages … Connecticut had the same maritime history, but the Maine coast was more rugged, wild, confirming the passion and ceaseless transformation of nature. As she watched her three beautiful children race to the water, Addy suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Why did she continually wallow in self-pity? Look at her perfectly formed, smart, sweet babies. She spent so much time locked up in her own head or trying to dodge Lionel’s barbs; she rarely stopped to realize how lucky she was to have the children. Lionel had given her that one good, spotless gift. In fact, if you did not know beforehand they were Lionel’s children, you would never have guessed he was their father. Addy wondered why Lionel hadn’t accused her of having had sex with at least three different men because the children each looked so different.

      The eldest, Peter, or Pete, his preferred moniker, was tall and lanky with blonde hair, large brown eyes, and skin that tanned easily. He was smart, easy-going, and very athletic. Lionel favored him, but Pete never took advantage of his father’s preference. On the contrary, he was loyal to Addy, James, and Mary, and would always rush to their aid. James, who preferred “Jimmy,” was very different from his brother. He also had skin that tanned easily but had curly dark brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. Addy remembered how surprised she was to give birth to a child with dark hair and light eyes. Elizabeth Taylor, supposedly the most beautiful woman in the world, was famous for her raven-black hair and violet-blue eyes. These traits made a rare combination. Jimmy preferred books to sports, but to satisfy his father, Jimmy played on the town’s soccer and baseball teams. He was also an excellent writer and artist. Unfortunately, Lionel did not view Jimmy’s gifts as “masculine.” Addy worried that as Jimmy matured, Lionel might bully him. For now, Jimmy’s role as altar server kept him safe.

      Mary … sweet little Mary … had Addy’s dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and fair complexion. There was something ethereal about Mary. Delicate and sensitive, she loved nature and had an amazingly compassionate heart for such a young girl. Addy hoped wolves would not mistake Mary’s sweetness for weakness.

      All the children were tall for their ages, and that was another thing that surprised Addy. Lionel was on the shorter side, and Addy herself was only 5 feet 3 inches. Everything about her children was wonderful: each was attractive, smart, considerate, and seemingly well adjusted. Who knows what the future held for them. How could they grow up with a father like Lionel and not end up on the psychiatrist’s couch? Was having a dad like Lionel better than having no dad at all?

      After her near drowning experience at Sound View, Addy promised herself that if she were ever a mother, she would make sure her children learned to swim. She watched her three fish frolicking in the waves and felt more at peace than she had in years. When was the last time she enjoyed her children with such abandon without worrying about what Lionel would do next? Her chest tightened when he came to mind, but she wanted to embrace new experiences and promised herself to squelch all thoughts of him during the vacation. It would be difficult, but she resolved to keep her vow to herself. After all, an opportunity like this may never come along again.

      The sun was setting, but the kids were still in the water. Addy called to them, asking if they were ready to go home. “NOT YET,” they shouted. She could hear the unfamiliar ring of freedom, joy, and harmless defiance in their voices. Soon enough, the children got cold and ran shivering to the blanket, quickly wrapping themselves in their beach towels. Addy gave them each a spritz of mosquito repellant, they gathered their things, and started down the wooden walkway. Addy could tell the kids had had a good workout in the water because they strolled at a pace she could match.

      “How stupid of me not to bring a flashlight,” Addy chided herself as they stumbled along to the parking lot in the dark. The warm glow of the cottages dotting their route home lit a flicker of security and hope in her heart. These sweet dwellings seemed oblivious to any pain or sadness. They glimmered with unquestioning confidence that life has infinite goodness to offer.

      When they reached the house, Addy and the kids all huddled together under the spray of the outdoor shower. Warm water in a beach shower … what a treat. Addy shuddered while recalling the torture of the freezing cold water of the outdoor showers at Sound View Beach slapping against her little sunburned body. Because the mean landlady strictly forbade sandy and dripping wet kids inside the cottages, Addy had no choice but to endure this suffering. That was the only unpleasant memory she had of that place.

      When the children and she went inside, Addy had the kids take warm showers and change into their pajamas straightaway. She rinsed out their suits, hanging them on the clothesline in the lovely backyard. Addy wished she could have a clothesline at her own home, but they lived in the suburbs, where outdoor clotheslines were unpopular. She remembered how fresh the sheets used to smell when she was a little girl growing up at her aunts’ house. Addy had never even seen a clothes dryer. Maybe some rich people owned them, but all the families in her neighborhood hung their wash outside. She remembered her aunts even going out into the winter snow to hang the clothing and linens. Sometimes everything would be stiff as boards when Addy helped pick the wash off the line. They would bring the clothes inside and thaw them near the radiators. At the time, Addy was irritated that her aunts hung the sheets outside even in the winter, but now she finally understood: fresh air at all costs.

      It was nearly nine o’clock, and they had not had dinner yet. The kids were starving. Just as Addy planned, she lined up paper plates and plastic cutlery, bread, cold cuts, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, mustard, and mayonnaise on the kitchen counter. She had small bags of State Line potato chips, a Massachusetts-made treat loved throughout New England. She had brought a tin of her homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

      The kids rushed through the cafeteria-style line, assembling their sandwiches, then climbed up on the counter stools