A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [57]
Maud felt a surge of terror and delight. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned her rosebud print. She kicked off her shoes, peeled off her stockings, and removed almost all of her underwear. Then she yanked the striped dress over her head. A moment later, she padded barefoot down the stairs.
The kitchen was empty. Maud peered through the kitchen curtains and saw Muffet kneeling in the garden. Her back was to the door, and she was weeding. With luck, she would not hear — Maud almost smiled. Muffet couldn’t hear the screen door slam. Maud opened the door and trotted down the porch steps. Once in the alley, she began to run.
It was months since she had been able to run and it felt good, in spite of the gravel that bruised her feet. She dashed past the neighbor’s yard, ducked behind a bush, and rounded a corner. All too soon, she was out of breath. She slowed to a skip and then to a saunter. Her bare legs felt deliciously naked, and the air was fresh. She was free. It was dangerous. In five minutes she would be at the ocean. She spread her arms wide and skimmed between the buildings like a swallow.
She remembered the way. She crossed the boardwalk, dodging its evening strollers, and ran over the rough grass. At last she stood on the strand, with the broad sky stretching around her in three directions. The ocean glistened and tumbled upon the shore. Maud stopped, breathing hard. She was hoping to see the child who had invited her to play the day she came to Cape Calypso. But it was seven o’clock, and most of the children had gone home.
No matter. It was joy enough to be out of doors, with a breeze making her skirt flutter and the ocean beckoning ahead. A ripple of foam seethed forward and receded within inches of her toes. With boldness and longing, Maud stepped into the water.
It was so cold it made her bones ache. Maud squealed, baring her teeth. Then the wave receded, and for the first time, she felt the pull of the ocean; the sand under her feet was being sucked away. She locked her knees and laughed. She loved the bubbles of the foam against her skin. She pinched her skirt daintily and waded in deeper.
The hour that followed was blissful. Maud jumped in rhythm with the cresting waves; she tried to outrun the foam as it breathed upon the shore. She hopped on one foot and kicked the ocean into spray. She screamed with joy as the water splashed upward and wetted her thighs. For once Hyacinth was forgotten. Maud was drunk with salt water. She felt that she could go on playing by the ocean for the rest of her life and never have enough of it.
Suddenly it was dark. The water was no longer greenish brown, but ink-colored; the white foam no longer glittered, but shone in the dimness. She was alone on the shore, and the crowds on the boardwalk had thinned. Reluctantly, Maud turned her back on the glory of the ocean. Every adult she had ever met, save Hyacinth, agreed that danger lay in wait for children who were out past bedtime. She turned back toward the boardwalk.
Once under the streetlamps, her wanderlust returned. It seemed a pity to return to the house after only an hour. Other people were still enjoying themselves; why shouldn’t she? Maud brushed the sand off her legs and surveyed the passersby. She eyed a crowd of older girls, who were sharing a bag of taffy. They were noisy and merry, and Maud found them attractive. She tagged after them.
Her instincts were good. The girls led her up the boardwalk, to lights even brighter than the streetlamps. Two white fences flanked an entrance with a sign shaped like a rainbow. The sign read ODYSSEY AMUSEMENT PARK. The girls strolled in.
Maud’s heart beat fast. They hadn’t stopped at the entrance. They hadn’t reached into their purses for money. Perhaps it was free; perhaps anyone could go inside. Maud flicked her fingers through her hair and straightened