Prologue
"Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them."
-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
September 23, 1976
A little brunette girl peeked over the edge of her parents' bed, disarrayed blankets covering the two sleeping figures. Dawn was just beginning to break, shown by dim light shining into the room. A stain-glass window hanging with a pattern of lilies hung in the window, the light passing through it sending beams of rainbow dancing throughout the room.
"Mommy?" the girl whispered quietly, gazing cautiously past the blankets. "Daddy?"
One of the forms moved, protests emitting by means of a mumble. The man turned on his side, facing his daughter, eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.
"Dad." she repeated, louder. With a single finger, she reached silently forward and poked her father roughly in the eye.
"Ow! Sara! Honey! Don't do that!" Her father sat up and rubbed his eye in pain. Sara backed down quickly so only her two chocolate eyes could be seen over the mattress.
"I'm sorry Daddy," she continued in a hushed voice. "But it's my birthday today."
"That's right!" her father gushed, recovering from his minor injury. "It's Sara's birthday today! How's my five-year-old girl on this happy day?"
She stood up straight and smiled happily, as her father reached over the side of the bed and lifted her into his lap.
"A happy birthday to you my dear." He bowed his head comically, then began tickling her nonstop. She screeched with glee and kicked and screamed until some groans of complaint from the opposite side of the bed stopped them mid-tickle.
"I think your mother's up." Sara's father whispered in her ear.
"I think so too." she whispered back. They turned they're gazes to the other body in the bed. The blankets flew off the face of a woman with dark auburn hair and matching eyes.
"You thought right." she muttered with a sigh, rubbing her face and shielding her eyes against the light of the sun.
"Mommy," Sara began. "It's my birthday today." She beamed, as though it were the best thing in the world.
"I know it's your birthday. How could anyone forget?"
Sara leaned over to her mother, arms outstretched. She was passed from parent to parent as her mother lifted her into her own lap.
"Mommy, can I have my super-duper-yummy breakfast for my birthday?" she questioned innocently.
"You mean the super-duper-yummy breakfast that involves spinach, artichokes, and broccoli?"
"No!" Her lips recoiled into a sneer of disgust.
"Oh. You mean the super-duper-yummy breakfast with the chocolate-chip pancakes and eggs and bacon?"
Sara smiled broadly and squirmed out of the bed eagerly while her parents shared a look of contentment, following a few moments afterward.
At the table, Sara, her mother Laura, and father Jim, ate serenely. Sara was chatting away, explaining all the things she was hoping she received for her fifth birthday.
"I was really hoping to get that book we saw at the store, remember Mommy?" she chatted through bites bacon.
"I bet you got me that poster Dad. You knew how much I wanted it." She blabbed after gulping down the rest of her orange juice.
"Actually honey," her mother began, taking a napkin from her table and wiping chocolate chip from her daughters face, "We decided we'd take you somewhere today, anywhere we could drive too. That will be your birthday present."
Disappointment seemed to dwell in Sara's eyes for a few moments but then she went into a slight stupor, thinking inaudibly and staring down at her hands.
"The beach." she finally stated.
"The beach?" her father repeated. Laura was busy looking out the window at the red morning sky.
"I don't think that's a good idea honey. It's red outside and you know what that means."
"Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. I know Mommy. But you said anywhere! I've never been to the beach before! Most all the kids in kindergarten went! I want to go!" She stuck her lip out in a little girl pout and crossed her arms.
Her mother gave a pleading look in the direction of her husband, but he was little help.
"You did say anywhere. We'll leave when it starts raining."
Sara smiled widely again.
"Come on!" Sara cried, running barefoot through the sand towards he waves of the ocean. She stopped abruptly, just before the tide, mouth open, staring out at the cloudy sky and waves.
"So what do you think of the ocean?" her father asked, stepping up beside her, following her line of sight.
"It's…beautiful." she managed. The beach was deserted besides gulls pecking at clams in the dirt and flying through the slight breeze. The waves were curling up and over themselves, leaving white froth up on the shore.
"Can I go in the water Daddy?" Sara asked insistently. "Please? Oh please Daddy?"
He chuckled and swooped her up in his arms, running for the salty water like a football player. She screamed joyously, mixed with giggles, arms spread in pointless hopes of flying.
"Look Mommy! Watch!" Her father dipped her right side up in his arms, standing up to his ankles in the ocean. His wife stood up on shore still, arms folded in hopes of shielding the slight chilly wind, laughing at the happy picture of father and daughter.
"Ready to go in?" he asked Sara teasingly.
"Yes!" she giggled.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Daddy! Yes!"
"Okay!"
He dipped her feet in the frigid water and she shivered and clung to his neck.
"That's cold!" She shivered again.
"I know it's cold. It's better on a warmer day."
"I don't like the water, take my back to Mommy please."
"Are you sure? You might get used to it."
"I'm sure. It's too cold."
"All right," He lifted her out of the water, draped her over his shoulder, and began trudging back to shore.
"How'd you like the water Sara?" her mother asked once they were back on land.
"It was cold. You were smart not to go in there Mom."
Her parents chuckled.
"What's that?" Sara asked, pointing at a place were gulls were pecking.
"Probably something dead honey." her mother mumbled, craning her neck to look.
"I want to see!"
"No Sara—"
But it was too late. Sara had already dashed over, sea gulls flying up into the gray sky. She crouched down and looked interestedly at what appeared to be part of a beached fish. She wrinkled her nose against the smell, but picked up a stick and poked the animal with it.
"Sara honey, don't touch it. You might get sick." Laura cried after trotting over to Sara and the fish.
"No," She poked it again, in the eye. "It's dead. It can't hurt me."
"Yes it can Sara, come here." She picked her daughter from the ground as thunder sounded over the beach and rain began to leave tiny craters in the sand.
"Let's go home," Jim muttered, placing his arms over his wife and daughters heads to protect them from the rain.
"Already?" Sara cried disbelievingly.
"We said until it started raining." Laura commented walking slowly towards the car, daughter in arms.
"But we just got here!" Sara defended.
"You got to see the beach like you wanted. Maybe we'll come back later, when it's a little warmer. Then I'll teach you how to swim!" Jim exclaimed, opening the door for his wife and child to enter.
"In the water?" Sara asked as she was buckled in.
"Yep."
"No."
"Why not?" Her mother exited the car, grin on her face.
"The water's too cold!" Sara stated as though obvious.
He chuckled and closed the door as another rumble of thunder sounded.