Anne Korkeakivi - Shining Sea

Patty Ann has been out of the house for three years, but it’s still “our” backyard. It’s enough to break her heart. With the house sold, does Patty Ann feel as though her childhood will be once and for all out of reach? There were days after Michael’s death when her hands shook so much with rage — this perfect life dropped in her lap only to be snatched up again — that it was hard to zip the younger boys’ Windbreakers or attach a barrette in baby Sissy’s fine red hair. Maybe the real reason Patty Ann ran off with that good-for-nothing Lee was out of a similar anger, snubbing her nose at fate for what it had done to them.

Where is Lee today? It seems like just Patty Ann and the babies these days.

“You and the boys can always come visit. It’s not that far.”

“For Luke? He put the hammock up for Luke?”

“I told Luke last week if he’s going to just loaf around, I wish at least he would loaf around at home, where I could keep an eye on him. Luke laughed. But Ronnie came home with the hammock.”

“And Luke has barely left it since.”

“I don’t think Luke likes his friends much more than I do.”

“Superman Ronnie.”

“He has a way.”

“Like I said. Superman.”

“I don’t know what you have against your stepfather, Patty Ann. Ronnie’s been nothing but nice to you. He even tried to help Lee land a job — not that Lee followed him up on it.”

“It wasn’t the right fit,” Patty Ann says, looking down at her beer.

“Right. Well. Ronnie tried.”

“He always tries. That’s just it. Like he’s too nice. Like he’s hiding something. You never really know who he is.”

If he’s such a nice guy and loves kids so much, why hasn’t he had any of his own? Why hasn’t he ever even married? Patty Ann said after the first time Ronnie joined them for Sunday dinner. He’s a good-looking guy. I mean, for a middle-aged square.

It’s a question, like a song she can’t shake, that she hears again each night when Ronnie kisses her on her forehead, puts out the light, and turns over onto his side, facing away from her. She’s sure he loves her. It was his idea they marry, not hers. It’s not like he had anything to gain from it — she’d hardly an extra penny in the bank. And he’s an honorable man. He served in World War II, just like Michael did. And yet she could count on two hands the number of times he has turned to her in the dark. Being married to Ronnie is great, but it’s not exactly how she imagined it.

But maybe that’s how it is with most men. Just because their private life isn’t like the one she had with Michael doesn’t mean it’s not normal. They’re neither of them kids anymore, after all. She’s no longer a kid.

She wouldn’t mind if he were to turn to her sometimes, though.

“That’s what he is, Patty Ann— nice. Some people are.” She picks up the plate of raw steak and heads for the door. “I think the baby has woken up.”

The late afternoon air smells of eucalyptus and car exhaust and barbecue. She sets the plate down by the grill. “Another ten minutes?”

“Fifteen,” Ronnie says. He’s wearing the new madras shirt she picked out for him; it makes his hair seem even darker and thicker. He really is a nice-looking man.

“Well, the salads are ready. And the corn on the cob is done.”

“I’m starved,” Eugene says, looking up from a pile of firecrackers. A body would think she didn’t have enough children already without Eugene making himself at home here. Then again, Eugene’s been an honorary member of the family longer than Ronnie has — it’ll be strange leaving him behind if they move to Phoenix. In some ways, she understands him better than she understands Francis, her own son.

Right now, Francis is leaning against the coral tree picking on his guitar, paying no mind to Eugene or the firecrackers. Ronnie must have given the boys the money for them. He’s the one who came up with the plan for Francis and Eugene to spend the summer working for Jeanne, helping fix up her rattling old wooden house. When they went East at Thanksgiving, Ronnie saw how badly it needed painting. The college would pay for it, right? he said on the plane ride home. Jeanne just hasn’t gotten around to asking them?

Francis and Eugene will be on a bus heading toward New York State this time on Saturday. Ronnie, of course, bought their tickets. The college will let Jeanne hire her nephew, but it’s not going to pay for his transportation across the country.

“Me, too,” Kenny says, swaying on his chubby little legs, glancing adoringly at Eugene and Francis. “Hungry.”

Sissy slams her book shut. “Let’s play hide-and-seek!”

No one pays her any mind. Francis keeps fiddling with his guitar. Eugene continues fiddling with his firecrackers. Luke might as well be a corpse over there in the hammock.

Sissy puts her hands on her hips. “Come on!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to tend the barbecue,” Ronnie says, forgetting again that Sissy doesn’t like being called by endearments. He can’t help it. Endearments come naturally to him. “Boys, play with your little sister.”

Sissy glares at him, then stalks over to the hammock and pulls up hard on its side, flipping Luke over onto the ground.

“Hey!” Luke says, coming to life, rolling up onto his knees and grabbing for her. Mike puts his beer down, ready to step in.

Sissy jumps back. “Play hide-and-seek. Come on, Luke. Everyone here is so boring.”

Luke wipes his hands on his legs. He laughs. “Okay, squirt.”

Mike picks his beer back up.

“Okay, Sissy. We’ll play, too,” Eugene says, punching Francis.

“Yeah, okay,” Francis mumbles, looking up. “What are we doing?”

Sissy sticks her tongue out at him.

“No sticking your tongue out, Sissy,” she says — though as far as she’s concerned, Sissy is within her rights. Those boys . “That’s not ladylike.”

“Hide seek,” little Kenny says.

“You’re too small to play,” six-year-old Sissy says.

Kenny’s tiny face crumples. He doesn’t cry, just looks down at his feet. It rips her in two. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sissy,” she says. “Kenny’s going to play with me, and as a team we’re going to beat all of you.” She takes Kenny’s hand in hers. He looks up at her, his eyes round and shiny.

She gives Francis a look.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he mutters. When it comes to hiding, Francis has them all beat when he wants.

“You’re it!” Sissy says, tagging Luke.

Luke laughs again and sits back down on the hammock. He covers his eyes. “One… two…”

She scoops Kenny up onto her hip. “Come on. I have a great hiding place for us.” She runs through the grass around the house, carrying him. “Shh,” she says. She tiptoes through the front door and back toward the kitchen.

“Six, seven, eighhhhht…”

She places Kenny on the floor. “We’ll crawl under the table and pull the chairs in. He’ll never find us.”

Kenny sticks his thumb in his mouth.

“Don’t do that, Kenny. It’ll give you rabbit teeth.”

He takes his thumb out.

She folds a chocolate chip cookie into a napkin and gets down on her knees beside him. “There are cookies to eat while we wait. Quick.” Together, they crawl under the table. He leans against her shoulder. She kisses the top of his head.

“Ten. Ready or not, hipsters, here I come!”

Luke finds Eugene first. It’s easy — something in the garden shed sets Eugene off on a coughing fit. In the last few months, Eugene’s asthma seems to have disappeared, but his lungs are still fragile.