As little as a year ago, Addie might have been tempted to peel off her coat and walk into the water, knowing its anger and chill would warm her like a hot bath. But now that she was growing up, Addie didn’t let herself be drawn to the lake the way she had when she was a young girl.
It wasn’t suitable for a young woman to be seen playing and splashing like a baby, her mother had said when Addie turned thirteen that year. Although she still felt much like a child, Addie liked being referred to as a young woman and saw the wisdom of acting as though she was old enough for that title.
Addie always did her best thinking on the shoreline. There, with the lake’s tenor lapping in her ears, Addie found herself wondering about the life she would have when Jess finished college. Would he come home to her? Would they marry as they had planned? Or would he find another girl, someone pretty and exciting and closer to his age, at the university? She knew that’s what her parents hoped. But Addie could not even summon the image of Jess loving someone else. It seemed to violate the very order of things.
The waves were stronger now, louder. Amid this sound and fury, Addie concluded that all was well with the only man she would ever love, letters or no letters. She was worrying needlessly. Have faith, girl. Things are what they will be. She stood and turned toward home just as an enormous wave crashed into the shore where she had been sitting only seconds before, as if to weigh in on her decision. Had she not moved, it certainly would have engulfed her. The thought took Addie’s breath away. As she watched the wave recede, Addie was struck with a pang of doubt at the truth of the conclusion she had just reached. Something gnawed at her as she scrambled back up to the road, and it kept gnawing at her as she walked home.
Addie had no way of knowing that, at that very moment, Jess Stewart was hundreds of miles away, sitting across the table from a young woman named Sally, who he very much hoped would be completely taken with his charms.
On his first day away from home, as he stepped into the city from the train, Jess Stewart awoke to a new life. Great Bay, and everything in it, seemed so small and far away. College, a roommate from another town, classes, parties, tall buildings, people bustling here and there—Jess was entranced by it all. But especially by the women. This new breed of girl—worldly, sophisticated, lighthearted, fun—was so different from the sensible wives of the fishermen in Great Bay. Oh, he hadn’t forgotten Addie, but she was just thirteen years old. A child, really. Addie was not like these college girls. With distance, he could see it clearly. It wasn’t proper for a grown man to be carrying on a relationship with a child of Addie’s age. Their childhood closeness faded from his mind as he began to discover intimacy of another kind.
Back in Great Bay, Addie shuddered, and for the first time that day, she felt cold deep inside. She tightened her scarf, buttoned her coat, and pulled the hood closer around her face in preparation for the walk home.
A few weeks later, Addie came home from school one afternoon to find a letter waiting for her on the table in the hallway. She squealed and ripped it open, dropping her schoolbooks in the process.
December 1
Dear Addie,
Thank you for your letter. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write. You can’t imagine how busy I’ve been! This university life is exhausting!
To answer your questions, I am indeed enjoying my classes—history, literature, economics, and science—but, like you have found with your new teacher, I’m finding that my courses are a great deal of work. After classes have concluded for the day, I spend the rest of the afternoon in the library studying until dinnertime.
My roommate is a fellow from the Dakotas whose parents own a farm in the midst of the flat prairie. His descriptions of the landscape make it sound austere and empty, very different from what we’re used to—no lakes nearby, a stream here and there, flat land as far as the eye can see. He says you can see miles and miles of horizon. Can you imagine great fields of sunflowers? He plays the trombone as well—enough said about that! Now you can see why I spend so much time in the library.
About the food—nothing here is as good as my mother’s pasty. Write again soon and tell me about life at home.
I regret to tell you that I will not be coming home for Christmas this year. My roommate and I have been invited to the home of a man who lives here in town. It just seemed easier this way. My parents are unhappy about this, and of course I wished to see you, but the idea of a long trip in the dead of winter convinced me to remain in town.
Your friend,
Jess Stewart
Addie slumped onto her bed. Jess wasn’t coming home for the holiday, after all.
She read the letter over and over before putting it in a wooden box with a velvet lining, which she thought would be a perfect place for such correspondence. She kept the box on the writing desk by the window in her bedroom and had hoped to fill it to bursting with his letters over the course of these four lonely years.
“I thought that boy would’ve outgrown her by now,” Marcus grumbled to his wife as he donned his coat and hat to shovel the driveway one snowy morning. “Girls her age shouldn’t be writing to college men.”
What could they do about it, he wanted to know. Forbid her from writing? Intercept any more letters that came? Marcus lobbied for that course of action, but Marie saw the folly in it.
“He’s not coming home for Christmas,” Marie whispered, not wanting Addie to hear. “Maybe he’s got a sweetheart at the university.”
Marcus’s eyes lit up at this suggestion.
Marie continued, “Whether he does or doesn’t, he’s going to be there for four long years. He’ll come home now and then, to be sure, but by the time he leaves that place for good, Addie will be old enough to make her own decisions. Maybe he’ll come home and marry her. Or maybe he will have met someone, a grown woman, who will take his eyes away from our daughter. You never know.”
“Marry her!” Marcus was aghast. “She’s just a child!”
“She’s thirteen years old, Marcus,” Marie said. “When Jess Stewart is finished with college, she’ll be seventeen. That’s plenty old enough.”
“That’s still too young,” Marcus grumbled some more.
“Oh, you,” Marie laughed. “Need I remind you that I was but eighteen when we married?”
The couple shared a laugh, then marveled at how many years had passed in an instant. Their daughter, meanwhile, was upstairs in her bedroom, sitting at her writing desk, believing time had slowed to a crawl.
December 12
Dear Jess,
Your letter came in the mail today. It’s a bright day here on the lakeshore. The water has not completely frozen over, and it’s wonderful to hear the ice patches wash into the shore here and there. Slush, slosh, slush. I remember how you used to love listening to that.
Your description of the Dakotas sounds so different from what we have here. Fields of sunflowers! Imagine! I cannot comprehend the idea of living somewhere that didn’t touch the water.
I am sorry to learn that you are not coming home for Christmas, but in truth, I did not expect you to do so. Remember what I said that day at Widow’s Cove? Your intentions to come home are good, but I know it is a long trip.