Castles in the Sand

by Sally John

  “Crackers help. Maybe you could slide one of those cellophane packets under your garter tomorrow?”

  Twenty

  Late Friday night, Pepper snuggled against Mick’s arm. He held the book. They were on page 104.

  She said, “There’s no other explanation. Someone must be praying for Susan. It’s a totally dramatic, overnight change.”

  “Talk about totally dramatic. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard you’d gone to see her again. I’d say your attitude toward her was dramatically changed. Maybe someone’s praying for you too?”

  No doubt he referred to himself. “Thanks.”

  He glanced her way with a wink.

  Where would she be without her husband? Most days she took his prayers for granted. His love was always there, as obvious and permanent as stars in a desert night sky.

  Poor Susan! What a nightmare marriage! To run every thought past a husband’s scrutiny!

  Mick turned the page. “What’s up?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re making that mumbo jumbo sound in your throat. It’s a dead giveaway you’re up to something.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  He grunted.

  “Well, under other circumstances I’d invite the woman here for dinner.”

  “Under other circumstances you wouldn’t know her to invite her to dinner.”

  “Yeah, I would. Her daughter’s in the band. We’ve gotten together with other families through Aidan’s group.”

  “Pep. The Starrs have never shown up for a concert except the one in their own church. They weren’t even at the airport when the kids left for Europe. I’d say they’re not interested.”

  It was all true. Poor Kenzie! She didn’t stand a chance.

  Mick laid the book on his lap. “The throat thing again. Invite her to dinner if you want. I don’t mind. Aidan might, but he doesn’t have to come.”

  Pepper slid down until she was flat on her back, her head on the pillow. “That’s not it.”

  “What is it?” He leaned over her and put a little finger at her temple, catching the tear rolling toward her hairline. “Hmm?”

  “I’m beginning to understand your mother.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  He smiled. “Is that so bad?”

  “If it means I feel displaced and not in tune with my son and preoccupied with how to fix relationships so that said son will have an easier time of it, then yes, that is so bad.”

  “You’ll get over it.” He kissed her forehead. “All things are possible with God.”

  Matthew again. Or was it her Lord’s words?

  Twenty-One

  “They were getting married today anyway.” Melinda Hathaway dabbed the corners of her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

  Susan reached over and squeezed her hand. They sat on a loveseat in a corner of a large comfortable room used by brides and their attendants as a dressing room. It was Saturday, the wedding day. Bree and her party of seven bridesmaids giggled and talked nonstop, too occupied to notice the teary-eyed, whispering women in the corner.

  Melinda said, “She knows it was wrong.”

  “Jesus forgives.”

  Melinda nodded. “She knows that too.”

  Susan smiled.

  “Thank you for not telling Drake.”

  Her smile wobbled. If he ever found out, would he forgive her?

  Jesus forgives.

  She probably should have told him. As pastor he had a right to know. A truly submissive wife would have told him.

  Or would she?

  There were so many things to tell him. Bree Hathaway’s pregnancy ranked last in priority, way below other things. Things like the meeting with Pepper Carlucci and Susan’s unremitting heartache over separation from Kenzie.

  After the rehearsal dinner the previous night, she and Drake arrived home exhausted. Still, she wanted to talk, to begin to describe her days away, but he had dozed off before she brushed her teeth. He mumbled goodnight and turned to hug the opposite edge of the king-size bed. She followed suit.

  After a long time, Susan fell asleep basking in the memory of a warm fire on her face, Pugsy snoring in her lap, rain pattering against the window, and a worn book in her hand.

  Drake left early that morning for a breakfast meeting, to be followed by other pastoral duties. They would meet up that afternoon for the wedding. Susan had spent her hours alone in a chair in the living room with a cup of tea and wondered yet again if she was losing her mind.

  Listen to your heart, Suze. Her sister-in-law’s advice struck again. Evidently the more Drake moved from her consciousness, the more the gospel according to Natalie moved in.

  The morning passed before Susan budged from that chair. She had listened to her heart and made a very short list of desires. She desired not to lose her mind. She desired not to hover anywhere near nervous breakdown territory. What she did desire, truly and beyond a shadow of a doubt desired, was to reconcile with her daughter.

  “What I don’t understand is,” Melinda whispered, “what did I do wrong?”

  Susan squeezed her hand again. Though she had pondered that exact question for three months, she could not allow true empathy to show. She couldn’t invite Melinda onto the Grandmas out of Wedlock Boat. No. This was Drake’s congregation. The right to inform or not inform them was his.

  But she did have an opinion, some of it gleaned from—of all people—Pepper Carlucci. The woman’s thoughts had clicked with Susan’s heart. Perhaps Melinda could benefit as well.

  “Melinda, we all fall short of mothering perfectly. And none of us have been mothered perfectly, either. We’re human. Who hasn’t suffered from a parent’s behavior, whether unintentional, subtle, or direct? In the end, though, when all is said and done, each of us is responsible for our own choices.”

  “I drilled into her head not to get intimate before marriage.”

  Me too. “I remember giving Kenzie medicine when she was little. The pink liquid stuff. She’d take it from a spoon and hold it in her mouth for the longest time. When she didn’t think I was looking, she’d spit it out into the sink or a cup. I’d put vitamins into her hand and find them later stuffed behind the sofa cushions.”

  “Bree did that with carrots.”

  She smiled. “They decide whether or not they’re going to swallow what we give them.”

  Melinda sighed. “I even put sugar on the carrots. And I sweetened the warnings by telling her how extra special wonderful it would be if she waited for marriage.”

  “Well, none of us can mother without stumbling,” Susan reiterated. “I’ve let Kenzie down in ways too numerous to count and beyond my understanding. But Jesus forgives.”

  “Right. I just hope my daughter does someday too.”

  Me too.

  Twenty-Two

  At the sight of wall-to-wall people eating catered salmon and steak, Natalie thanked God once again for not blessing her with a daughter.

  The church hospitality area with its adjacent patio accommodated nearly every member of Holy Cross Fellowship. Of course nearly every member attended the wedding reception because they all knew the Hathaways never spared the horses when it came to entertaining.

  Natalie spotted Susan, cocreator of the extravaganza. Her sister-in-law claimed Melinda Hathaway needed very little help, but Susan now appeared downright haggard.

  Natalie made her way through the throng and cornered her. “I didn’t know this was a costume party.”

  Susan’s eyebrows lifted. It was probably all she had energy to do.

  “Suze, you look like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off, racing to and fro.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And I’m a tree. Hey, everything went beautifully. You can relax now! Take your heels off and eat some cake.”

  Susan attempt to smile failed. “Did you notice the centerpieces?”

  The showy red anthurium were hard to miss. They were part and
parcel of a typical Hathaway production. The cost of flying flowers in from Hawaii guaranteed they would be noticed.

  “Yeah,” Natalie said. “I give them a wow factor of ten.”

  “They remind me of the bird-of-paradise behind the beach house.”

  “There’s one there?”

  “Yes. Growing right out of the concrete.”

  “That wins a big wow factor too.” They hadn’t talked since Susan called her on Wednesday and asked her not to visit the beach house. “So how did your last few days go down there? Did you read in front of a fire and relax?”

  “I did. It was good. But now—I don’t know. All I can think about is what you said.”

  Uh-oh. What’d I say now?

  “About the jot and tittle.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured again, treading lightly. “You mean about not listening to him screen them? About listening instead for God’s permission? The ‘you go, girl’ comment?”

  Susan gazed around the room and didn’t answer. Up close the haggardness worsened. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. She looked too thin in the simple pale blue sheath. Had she even slept last night? Maybe she had come home too soon.

  “Suze, do you think you spent enough time away?”

  “How would I know? I’ve never done such a thing.”

  “Well, how do you feel right now?”

  “Like I want to grab the microphone and announce that I’m going to be a grandmother. And please pray for Kenzie because she can’t come home and deep down she must feel so lonely and so rejected.”

  “That would take care of Drake’s quandary of whether or not to slip it into some future sermon.” Natalie smiled gently. “Why don’t you go home?”

  “They haven’t cut the cake yet.”

  “Do you know how many former brides are in this room? Not to mention all it takes is a knife and the photographer in place. We’ll manage somehow.”

  Susan shook her head. “There are other things, so many details—”

  “Gwyn has been helping. Let her finish this business. Really, Susan, you look like you might keel over any minute. Go. You’ve reached your limit here. I’ll tell Gwyn.”

  “I shouldn’t leave Melinda.”

  “Look at her flitting between tables. She’s having the time of her life. I will make your apologies! Go. That was God’s voice granting permission.”

  At last Susan made eye contact, her expression that of a woman drowning. She whispered, “I feel worse than I did last week.”

  They stared at one another for a long moment. Natalie replayed Rex’s admonition that she not become more involved. But…

  She was certain her blood pressure skyrocketed. This was Susan.

  Natalie said, “Do you want my opinion?”

  Susan closed her eyes.

  “I’ll give it anyway. Your sabbatical was too short. And, for your information, the beach house is still ours to use.”

  “Until Monday. Hardly worth—”

  “Until the end of the month.”

  Susan opened her eyes.

  Natalie shrugged. “I paid for longer. Who knows? I thought somebody could use it. Maybe even Kenzie. So. If you replaced the key yesterday in the lockbox, then it’s still there.”

  Susan’s face went from wild-eyed to wrinkled brow to open mouth with no sound. She clutched her hands to her stomach and walked away.

  Natalie didn’t move. She’d done it again. Said way too much.

  Someone squeezed her elbow. Rex. “Hi.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “What’d you say to her?”

  “I think I just told her she should leave her husband.”

  Twenty-Three

  Susan left the wedding reception, walked through the building’s numerous hallways, and entered the main office. Earlier in the day, after helping the florist and taking care of other last-minute pre-wedding details, she had changed into dress clothes in her office. She would retrieve her things now along with Pugsy and go home.

  Natalie was right. Much as Susan wanted to deny it, she had reached her limit. Again. It was becoming too familiar, this inability to handle life’s inevitable daily stress. Would she ever recover from the split caused by Kenzie’s news?

  “Susan.”

  She looked up to see Drake in his office doorway. He was so handsome in the deep gray suit that matched his eyes and hair. The festive ice blue tie complemented the bride’s colors. It had been Susan’s suggestion.

  “Hi.” She went over to him, stopping within arm’s reach. “Beautiful ceremony, Pastor Drake.”

  He smiled. “As always, you did a superb job behind the scenes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I am. I’m going home.”

  “I didn’t sleep well myself last night. Susan, I don’t like this being apart.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “I’m glad you’re home.”

  It was time to tell him what was going on in her heart, what truly separated them. It wasn’t Kenzie’s news alone.

  Maybe they could spend the remainder of the evening at home in front of the fire. The scene would be perfect for a long, heart-to-heart talk. Surely he ached for Kenzie as much as she did. Surely she could convince him that sending a message through the Carluccis was acceptable. Yes, they just needed time alone to reconnect.

  “Are you coming now?” she asked.

  “Not just yet. You go ahead, though. There are too many people wanting to bend my ear. They don’t get a setting like this too often, you know, to talk up close and personal.”

  “Neither do I.” The words tripped off her tongue, murmuring what she normally would have kept to herself.

  “What?” His snappish tone belied that he had indeed heard.

  She cleared her throat and repeated it anyway. “I said, neither do I, meaning I don’t often get to talk up close and personal with you.”

  “You’re the one who left for five days.”

  She ignored that. “I need to talk with you, Drake. I need to do that soon.”

  He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. More often than not he followed up snappish tones with a soft touch. “It has been a rough couple months for both of us. I’ll be home by nine.”

  “Mmm.” She pressed her lips together, but they wouldn’t stay put. Their Saturday night routine was too ingrained. “That’ll give you just enough time to review your sermon notes before bed.”

  He removed his hands. “By eight then.”

  Geez Louise. Was she special or what? He’d just scheduled an hour for her.

  He walked to the main office doorway. “Get some rest.”

  She was special. Worthy enough for more than an hour on a Saturday night.

  She could not, she simply could not wait for eight o’clock. “I met with Aidan Carlucci’s mother.”

  Drake whipped around on his heel. His jaw sagged. Literally.

  She’d never seen that before.

  “You did what? Why on earth would you…?” He went speechless.

  She’d never seen that before either. “Because I had to find out how Kenzie is.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “I know we did. I apologize for breaking that agreement, but I could not handle it any longer. I had to find out what I could. So I met her at Starbucks in Fashion Valley and we talked.”

  “We cannot communicate to that woman or Kenzie that we condone what our daughter is doing! Susan.” He spread his hands, a gestured plea to accept his words.

  “I wasn’t communicating that I condone her actions. I was taking back my communication of condemnation.”

  “You’re disrupting the process.”

  “But it’s not like she was abusive to us, that we had to send her away because she was on drugs or something and hateful and destructive toward us. The least we can do is offer her comfort.”

  “I know that would make you both feel better, but our God is the God of a
ll comfort. He will comfort you and as soon as Kenzie turns back to Him, He will take care of her. If we interfere with His work, that can’t happen. You and I agreed that the best way to allow her to come to her senses was to let her feel the full impact of consequences.”

  “Is withholding our love from her a consequence?”

  “This is our love, Susan. This is the way God loves us, the way He draws us back to Himself by disciplining us when we need it.”

  His words of God’s truth, spoken in that most compassionate tone, wore her down. She could not lift her eyes to meet his. Yes, God did discipline those He loved. Yes, she wanted Kenzie to—

  Drake screens every jot and tittle of what you do…

  What had Natalie said? Something about God saying You go, girl. You don’t need anyone else’s permission to do what you think is right. You’ve got Mine.

  Drake hadn’t even asked about Kenzie’s welfare.

  That wasn’t right.

  It wasn’t.

  She waited. She felt her chest heave. And she wondered, not for the first time, why she had brought Pugsy along to spend the long afternoon in her office…why she hadn’t yet bothered to unload her luggage from the car…why she thought—even before Natalie said anything—about the rental week technically not ending until Monday…

  At last she whispered, “Don’t you want to know about Kenzie?” She looked up.

  Drake’s mouth worked as if his tongue pressed chewing gum against the back of his teeth, readying it for bubble blowing. It was that old nervous habit only Kenzie could still provoke into action.

  Evidently Susan now possessed the same power.

  He avoided eye contact for several silent moments. And then she knew he wasn’t going to ask about their daughter.

  “Drake, I’m not tired because of last night’s lack of sleep or today’s wedding or even Kenzie’s news. I’ve been tired for a long time. I’m going back to the beach house tonight. For a little while.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets and looked at her now, his face caved in on itself like a lost little boy’s expression.

  “If it’s—” Drake screens every jot and tittle of what you do. The gospel according to Natalie cut off what she intended to say…If it’s all right with you. It didn’t matter if it was all right with him or not. She knew what she needed to do.