Addy and the children had fallen in love, not only with Maine, but also with the simple, cheerful glimpse of life Greg and Caroline had given them. Greg said once again, “I had better get going; the doughnuts are probably melting all over the seat as we speak.”
Hesitating, Greg thought for a moment ... “Hey, I have an idea. Since it’s not a nice beach day, why don’t you all clean up part of the house today? The weather is supposed to clear up by this evening, and there may be a starry sky. How about if I make a bonfire on the beach? We can roast hotdogs and marshmallows.”
The boys looked at each other in amazement. A bonfire on the beach? They had had a brief stint with the Boy Scouts, but the only time they went camping, it rained, and the Scout leader could not make a fire. They had to eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches they had brought just in case.
Mary looked worried, “Will I still be able to play with Allison today?”
“Why not?” Addy answered, feigning cheerfulness.
She wondered if Greg was planning the bonfire to spend his last evening with her. At least that is what she hoped. Her self-confidence had left her long ago. In fact, she never really had any self-confidence. She still could not fathom that Greg had chosen to make love to her. Maybe he was just a lonely seducer; an opportunistic rogue. Oh my God, Addy. What a fool you’ve made of yourself. How could you have ever thought this gorgeous man actually found you attractive?
Greg’s deep voice roused Addy from her masochistic reverie when he said, “Will that be OK with you, Addy?”
Narrowly escaping from her coma of self-hatred, Addy looked up, her eyes meeting his sincere gaze. Why couldn’t she trust that Greg was for real? He had proven his honesty and goodness so many times during this vacation. There was a sense of urgency in Greg’s words; almost as if he were pleading with her to say, “Yes.” Perhaps he really did want to spend their last evening together. Addy returned his look and an overwhelming feeling of love rose unexpectedly from her heart. She couldn’t hide her yearning.
“Oh, Greg,” she said, almost in tears, “you think of the nicest things to do. We would love a bonfire on the beach.”
Greg smiled with relief. “Great! Caroline and I will get all the food, so don’t worry about anything except getting the house ready to pack up. Bring a blanket and some bug spray, and we’ll be good to go. See you around 7:30.”
Picturing herself seated next to Greg on a star-lit beach inspired Addy to get busy. The boys hurried to their room, looking around in confusion, not knowing where to begin. They didn’t even complain that Mary wasn’t cleaning. Addy had always had to guide the boys about housework. Admittedly, she had let the boys mess up their room all they wanted because Lionel was not there to bark orders.
“Don’t worry, boys. I’ll help. First, gather up the toys, games, and books and put them in the laundry basket we brought them in,” Addy assured Jimmy and Pete.
There was a washing machine in the house so Addy had kept up pretty well with the laundry, thank God. She told the boys to collect their dirty clothes and put them in the basket near the washer.
The day flew by. Mary had lunch at Allison’s, while Addy and the boys stopped cleaning for only fifteen minutes, just enough time to gobble down sandwiches for lunch. The refrigerator was filled with groceries, but Addy would give them to Caroline and Greg. They had been so generous; how could she ever repay them?
When Addy dusted the fireplace mantel, she could finally look at Charlie’s family photos. Yes, maybe they had a happy life; yet, the thought of their happiness did not stab her in her heart as it did when she had first seen the pictures. Although too brief, Addy had a taste of what it might be like to have a loving husband, and even if she never saw Greg again, she would carry him in her heart forever. Her whole being was suddenly flooded with the light of gratitude. When she had first arrived in Maine, she was a zombie, going through the motions of living but possessing no soul. She had never found solace in religion, at least not the religion force-fed to her. The glow of thankfulness emanated from her spirit, stretching out in all directions, kissing the universe. Her soul … had it returned? Was there a compassionate side to the Catholic God she had rejected so long ago?
When she was in college and began to question her faith, Addy read extensively in philosophy and religion. One of her free-thinking college classmates, Gracie Steer, suggested the controversial course, “The Bible in Literature,” offered by the brilliant professor, Richard Berridge. Dr. Berridge encouraged his students to dig beneath the surface. Amazingly, Addy learned that Herman Melville had drawn deeply upon the King James Version of the Bible when he wrote Moby Dick. In fact, the work was an allegory representing the author’s tormented search for God.
When Addy mentioned some of the things she was learning in college, the aunts were appalled. Every good Catholic knew the Bible was solely for priests, and the King James Version was for Protestants. Addy could not understand why the readings and gospels at Mass were from the Bible, yet the laity was discouraged from even touching a Bible. Sometimes the aunts regretted having sent Addy to college, but they knew that was what Addy’s parents wanted.
For college graduation, Gracie presented Addy with a beautifully framed illuminated script printed in calligraphy with these words from Philippians 4:8 (KJV):
Whatsoever things are true,
Whatsoever things are honest,
Whatsoever things are just,
Whatsoever things are pure,
Whatsoever things are lovely,
Whatsoever things are of good report,
If there be any virtue,
And if there be any praise,
Think on these things.
The idealistic college-aged Addy treasured that framed quotation and tried to live her life by its words. Her aunts viewed Lionel as the good Catholic knight who had come along to rescue Addy from blasphemous philosophy. After Addy married Lionel, she eventually stored the framed Bible verse in the basement along with all the other things that were once so precious to her: classical records; volumes of poetry by Blake, Emerson, Whitman, even Rilke. The words of these masters illumed her heart and soul … they were messages spanning time … celebrating the beauty and mystery of life. There were her art books … paintings by Botticelli, Cassatt, Cezanne, Degas, Rembrandt, and Van Gogh. Lionel thought interest in “old” things was senseless, so gradually Addy’s prized books and other possessions relating to the masters wound up in the mold of the basement.
As she stood in the kitchen of Charlie O’Malley’s home in Wells, Maine, far from Lionel and Chester, Connecticut, Addy closed her eyes and saw Lionel before her. She imagined she had a whip in her hands and was striking Lionel repeatedly, shouting, “You bastard. You ruined me. I was once smart, pure, good … you raped my body and mind … my filthy life with you stole my beauty.” As she whipped Lionel violently in her fantasy, Pete asked her a question. Addy came to and answered him. She still wished Lionel’s plane from Denver would crash or maybe he would get into a car wreck while he was driving to Maine to pick them up.
Everything suddenly became clear: Greg embodied those qualities described in the illuminated script. Although the Church and the world would accuse her of the sin of adultery, Addy felt just the opposite. Greg’s lovemaking made her feel clean and worthy for the first time since she had married Lionel. In spite of the hardships he was facing, Greg maintained noble qualities. He was not bitter or broken. Maybe he prayed to a God who gave him strength, courage, and peace. If only she could hold on to the optimism Greg stimulated in her.
Around seven o’clock, Caroline came over to sew up some details about the evening’s “Good-bye” bonfire.