Castles in the Sand

by Sally John

  Pepper stifled a groan. Words spoken in a huff always boomeranged, flying back to zing her unexpectedly.

  If anyone gives so much as a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, then in truth I tell you, he will most certainly not go without his reward.

  There went Matthew again, using her voice to paraphrase himself quoting Jesus.

  The point seemed not that a reward was involved. The point was that if any little one needed a cup of cold water, it was Mackenzie Starr. And at the moment, no one else appeared to be available to give it.

  “Kenzie.” Pepper went to the table, sat down, and met those uniquely shaped, pretty blue-gray eyes that had surely done a number on Aidan. “My son loves you. That means you are family. You are not a guest. You are not just any old band member. You are the mother of my grandchild. Okay?”

  Kenzie nodded once and smiled. “Okay.”

  “How about some coffee? I have those espresso beans you like so much.”

  “Oh, I can’t.” She picked up another towel to fold. “Caffeine is a no-no for the baby.”

  Pepper froze. She had made a special stop the previous day at a special gourmet place and paid a special price—all for Kenzie. “Hmm. Really? I drank coffee with six pregnancies. No problem that I was aware of.”

  “People didn’t know the effects of caffeinated drinks on the fetus back then. Do you have any herbal organic tea?”

  Susan Starr drank herbal tea. At Starbucks. “I have black tea. The orange pekoe stuff.”

  “I don’t mean to sound like my mother.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “She drinks only tea and only herbal. But I prefer that now. It’s best for the baby. Aidan likes it too.”

  Pepper lolled her head around in a circle. “Well, we’ll have to get some. What kind do you and Aidan prefer?”

  And to think there were five more children who someday would bring home the love of their lives. Before all was said and done, Pepper Carlucci could have a dozen grown children under her wings and twice that many grandbabies!

  She wanted to scream.

  Sixteen

  On Friday morning, Susan did not notice the weather.

  She awoke refreshed with only two thoughts on her mind. The previous day’s coffee had not bothered her in the least and no eggs remained in the refrigerator.

  She dressed immediately, called to Pugsy, and did not even consider going through the morning routine.

  By late morning, however, everyday motions nipped at Susan’s heels. Recess was over. It was time to go home.

  “Lord, please help me!”

  The sound of her own voice praying over a suitcase lying open on the bed startled her.

  She had prayed four whole words! Loudly. Distinctly. Emotionally. Without first asking God if it was all right with Him if she requested something.

  Where had all that come from?

  Pain.

  Pain at the mere thought of the word “home.”

  Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas…

  The partial line from an old hymn tiptoed into her consciousness, just loud enough to catch her attention.

  Now where had that come from?

  She replayed it. Sketchy verses tangoed with jumbled notes. She hummed.

  And the ordeal of packing and preparing to go home slowly, steadily dissolved.

  At the kitchen counter, Susan hummed and poured hazelnut coffee beans into the grinder. She kept her mouth closed, but the hymn’s words now rang out loud and clear in her mind. At last the song she used to know almost as well as her own name flowed, a silent intonation of unbroken praise complete with pipe organ accompaniment reverberating in her head.

  Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas—

  A soft knock at the front door interrupted the music. Susan paused as well, a tablespoon of ground coffee beans held midair. Drake wouldn’t visit, would he? At lunchtime on a Friday? Wasn’t he conducting a businessmen’s Bible study today? He would not approve of coffee at noon.

  This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears all nature sings, and round me rings—

  There was another rap, a bit louder than the first. From a back bedroom, Pugsy yipped once, too lazy to bother with more.

  The music of the spheres. This is my Father’s world.

  Lost in the music again, she set down the spoon and went to the door. Opening it, she nearly gasped at the sight of Pepper Carlucci. “Is Kenzie all right?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “The baby?”

  “Growing.” Aidan’s mother shrugged. “They’re fine. I’m not. Mind if I run away with you?”

  “Run away?” Susan stared, uncomprehending.

  Run away. Run away. The phrase tumbled about. She hadn’t meant to run away. But she had, hadn’t she? With the wise, loving help of her sister-in-law she ran away to the beach house where peace reigned and bird-of-paradise grew from concrete. Where the neighbor Julian—in the blink of an eye—provided a space so safe she unburdened her soul. Where the Martha Mavens delivered prayer, food, and hugs. Where Natalie challenged her to let the mental image of Drake go and not allow him to screen every jot and tittle of her behavior.

  And now the beach house was where Pepper Carlucci stood on her doorstep. Aidan’s mother, the sole link to Kenzie, asked if she could run away with her there.

  Yes indeed, this is my Father’s world.

  She smiled. “It’s a great place for running away. Come inside.”

  Seventeen

  Susan and Pepper drank coffee outdoors at the round wrought iron table. With its umbrella folded shut, the full impact of warm sunshine bathed the patio. Along the boardwalk occasional passersby strolled, biked, skated, or jogged. In its rhythmic crush of waves, the Pacific dispensed its namesake. Peace covered everything.

  Susan wasn’t quite sure what they should talk about. After Pepper’s initial question asking if she could run away with her, they had exchanged few words beyond the location of a bathroom, that Mickey Junior was at a friend’s, and whether she wanted cream or sugar.

  Pepper set down her cup. “So anyway.” She flashed her easy grin. “This is a little awkward.”

  The grin was delightful. Winsome even. It hit its mark and disarmed Susan on the spot. The truth was this woman knew more about her than did the Martha Mavens or anyone at Holy Cross Fellowship. No subject need be off limits with her.

  Susan said, “Yes, it is a little awkward, but it actually feels good. I mean, we’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

  “That’s what I think. We could call it the ‘Grandmas out of Wedlock Boat.’”

  They exchanged a smile.

  Pepper said, “It does feel good to share the situation with someone. I seem to be the Christopher Columbus in my circle of close friends. First one in this boat, off exploring uncharted waters.”

  “There are people in our church who have experienced this, but…” She didn’t want to go into why Drake believed they didn’t exactly qualify for personal sharing. “Did Kenzie tell you where I was?”

  “Inadvertently. She mentioned the other day that the house resembled a squished red chili on the boardwalk south of the Mission restaurant. I parked and took a walk. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Susan, I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. I already told you about my lack of tact.” She paused. “You don’t seem like the same person I met on Tuesday.”

  She imagined the difference Pepper saw: no chignon, no makeup, no skirt. Her hair flowed to her shoulders.

  “I mean,” Pepper went on, “Kenzie said you don’t drink coffee. And I never would have guessed you wear sweats. Although your pants and shirt can hardly be called sweats in the true sense of the term.”

  “But they’re not a frumpy skirt.”

  She nodded, clearly curious.

  That spread the flowing seas abroad…

  A phrase, a snatch of notes. Another hymn. What was it?

&
nbsp; “Susan?”

  “Sorry. I keep hearing hymn music. I don’t know why it’s popping up. Ages and ages ago I sang solos. Drake and I even sang together, before he was a senior pastor. Kenzie and I sang when she was little. Always hymns, the grand old classics. I had dozens of them memorized. I guess they’re still tucked away in my mind.”

  “You don’t sing anymore?”

  She shook her head. “It just sort of went by the wayside.”

  No…not quite by the wayside. Susan remembered the exact day the public singing ended. She and Kenzie sang a duet on Mother’s Day during the collection of tithes and offerings. Her daughter was thirteen. Imagine that. A teenager singing with her mother in church. At Drake’s insistence they chose a hymn. Unknown to him, though, Kenzie rearranged its tempo. It became an upbeat, finger-snapping version of the melody.

  Drake did not care for it. His disdain revealed itself in his sermon which immediately followed. Subtle, but snide. The private lecture at home cleared up any lingering doubts.

  After that, Susan begged off whenever the music director approached her. Once Kenzie gestured an offensive sign toward the woman. That ended her daughter’s career as soloist in Drake’s church. Years later she somehow found the courage to ask her dad’s permission, through the youth pastor, for her band to sing at a youth rally. That disaster hammered another nail in the coffin of father-daughter warm fuzzies.

  Eventually Susan stopped singing altogether. Not just up front, but in the pew as well. She wasn’t sure when that happened. During congregational singing she sometimes only mouthed the words. At home she rarely played a CD.

  Pepper’s voice startled her. “Then Kenzie must get her singing ability from you.”

  She shrugged.

  “I told you, she has an angel’s voice.” She smiled. “I’d love to hear you someday.”

  Natalie’s challenge that she make a decision without Drake had caused her to imagine a number of possibilities. Public singing was not one of them.

  I sing the mighty power of God…

  “That’s it!” Susan clapped her hands. “‘I Sing the Mighty Power of God.’ Isaac Watts.” She heaved a loud breath that lifted and dropped her shoulders.

  Something sounded in her imagination. Not music this time. It was more like a clanking noise. Like a heavy metal chain falling from a great height onto concrete.

  Yes. I will sing of God’s mighty power.

  Susan refilled their coffee cups and gazed out at the ocean. Clumps of silver tinsel danced on it, reflections of the afternoon sun. Pepper waited for an answer to her question about the obvious change in her over the past seventy-two hours. What could she say? Oh, it’s just a little something my sister-in-law proposed.

  A little something? It was a heretical concept that attached itself like a parasite onto her imagination. She couldn’t shake it.

  “Susan,” Pepper said. “We are in that same boat, but we don’t exactly know each other to the point of revealing innermost thoughts. I don’t mean to be nosy.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking.” She managed a wan smile. “It’s just that I don’t have it quite figured out. You are right. I am different than I was on Tuesday. I blame my sister-in-law, Natalie. She’s married to Drake’s brother. They always give us a week’s stay at the beach here. We’ve used this house in recent years. It’s a favorite. Anyway, she convinced me to come early by myself. And she encouraged me to call you.” Gratitude for Natalie shot through her. Susan’s throat closed up.

  “She sounds like a good friend.”

  Susan nodded and glanced at the ocean. “She stopped by the other night and…um…well…”

  In her mind, Drake’s voice suddenly resounded. Careful, careful. You’re treading in very personal waters here. Let’s distance ourselves, shall we?

  Organ music filled her head, and then words burst forth. I sing the mighty power of God!

  That too had been happening since the music first began. Whenever Drake commented in her mind, whenever he screened, then a hymn interrupted, a crescendo blasted and drowned him out.

  She was beginning to wonder if unsolicited music was a harbinger of nervous breakdowns.

  “Well,” she said again. “The thing is, Natalie believes I rely too much on Drake’s opinion. She said when I listened to my heart, I took a step toward Kenzie by calling you. I’m quite sure he would not like that. She suggested I, um, try to, um…” Imagine God’s voice. You go, girl.

  Pepper leaned across the table. “She told you to keep listening to your heart rather than to him.”

  She nodded and relief filled her. The woman understood.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Okay. It was unconscious at first. I rolled out of bed and went for coffee. No shower, wearing these clothes. Later while I was packing, I realized I spent the morning doing what Drake would disapprove of. I don’t mean to misrepresent him. He is a good man, a godly man. He’s not a tyrant. He doesn’t insist I shower and skip coffee and wear skirts. I just know his preferences. I want to be the kind of woman he likes.”

  “There’s a fine line between incorporating a husband’s likes and dislikes and being bent toward him.”

  “What do you mean by ‘bent’?”

  “It’s the idea of being bent toward a creature, the created, rather than being vertical toward the Creator, the Uncreated. I straddled the line for a while.” She lifted both palms, raising one, then the other. “Mick hates peas. I love them. I didn’t serve them until four years into our marriage. Not that God has an opinion about peas, but I was miserable until I figured out I was more concerned about Mick’s opinion than God’s.”

  “Drake’s opinion is everything. When I met him, I was just a nobody, so unsure of myself and my faith. And he fell in love with me, little Susie Anderson. He made me feel special.” She paused. “I guess somewhere along the way I started listening to him more than to God.”

  Mighty power. Sing it.

  Susan went on. “Well, I guess I’ve stepped way over that fine line. I’m beginning to see how much I do according to his opinion. I comb my hair, dress, eat, keep house, shop, and study the Bible in the ways he suggests.”

  Pepper’s eyes widened. “Like you need his approval?”

  “Probably even to breathe. That’s sad, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” Pepper whispered. “I don’t think it’s healthy, either.”

  “It’s quite sick. I don’t think it’s what God had in mind when He said the two shall become one when a man and woman marry.” She winced. “There it is. And I can’t believe I said all that to you out loud.” She exhaled a noisy breath. “So, Pepper, why is it you want to run away?”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. The dark blue eyes glittered. A hint of a chuckle gave way to a snort. “After hearing your story, I have no clue why.”

  Susan joined her in a loud, unadulterated guffaw.

  The power of God was indeed mighty.

  Eighteen

  Vanilla ice cream melted on Pepper’s tongue, followed lazily by a chunk of waffle cone crystallizing into pure sugar.

  She sighed. “This is incredibly yummy.”

  Beside her Susan mumbled in agreement, her mouth full of the same treat.

  They stood at the far end of Crystal Pier. Fishermen lined the rail enclosing the large squared area. Far below the surf whooshed at the pilings and the boards beneath their feet swayed.

  Pepper savored her final bite. “Mmm. This is extra yummy because today is a Friday, it’s the middle of the day, and I don’t have a kid with me.” She stole a glance at Susan, wondering if such an admission would disturb her.

  Apparently it didn’t. Her eyes were bright as she swallowed, smiling. “Welcome to my new world. Ice cream in the middle of the day, no kids or husbands to bug us. What shall we do next?”

  Pepper nearly choked. The uptight woman’s about-face was indeed a sight to behold.

  Susan’s blond hair blew in the sea breeze. Sun and wind had ti
nged her pale cheeks pink. She still wore the navy blue knit pants and long-sleeved floral top, an outfit Pepper categorized as dressy enough for church. Not so for the “picture-perfect pastor’s partner.” Susan admitted that except for that walking outfit, she had packed only skirts for her stay at the beach, clothes she considered the norm for public wear even in the capital of casual.

  Pepper glanced at her watch. The too few hours of freedom were slipping away.

  Susan said, “Do you have to go?”

  “Soon.” Pepper smiled to herself. Susan asked the question as if she herself had all the time in the world. But she had told Pepper about her work as a wedding consultant, that a rehearsal was scheduled for the evening.

  “You probably have to pick up Mickey Junior.”

  “Yes.” She inspected the rail of peeling white paint and bird droppings, found a somewhat clean spot and rested her elbows on it. “It’s the story of my life. Gotta go, babysitter’s time is up, school’s out, a kid needs me.” She shrugged and smiled. “Most days I would not trade a minute of the past twenty-five years of motherhood, but there are times when I will break something if I don’t run away at least for a while.” Her first experience with needing to run had actually involved a couple of broken plates. Mick stopped her from smashing a third onto the floor. But that might be too much information for present company.

  Susan said, “I never felt the desire to run away until now. On second thought, maybe I did and just never admitted it. I didn’t even really recognize it this time, not until you called it that.” Almost in midsentence she interrupted herself by humming.

  To Pepper it sounded like another old hymn. Susan’s attention had drifted several times during their conversation. Her eyes lost focus and she hummed softly. How Pepper wished Kenzie could see her mother! Though still somewhat hesitant in manner, Susan was not the woman Kenzie always described.

  The humming stopped. Susan turned to her. “Running away seems so disloyal. Weak. Inefficient.”

  “Nah.” Pepper shook her head. “It’s admitting we’re human and we need a break. A true Sabbath. Sundays don’t always get the job done at my house.”