Home on Seashell Island

by Brenda Kennedy

  He puts on his tool belt and walks up to the front porch. I can’t help but admire his extremely good looks and physique. In all my years, I never knew a pastor, preacher, priest, clergy, or any other man of God to look so incredibly sexy. I cover my ears with my hands hoping the images will leave my head. Closing my eyes tightly, I try to think of something else … anything else. When that doesn’t work, I decide I need a change of scenery. I definitely shouldn’t be having these thoughts of someone so close to Jesus. He — both Jesus and Beau — unquestionably wouldn’t approve.

  While I am sitting by the pool and reading a book, Carly walks out of the house. She looks like death. Her brunette hair is matted and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s definitely hung over. Even looking like death, her body is to die for. She has lean, long arms and legs, flawless skin, and beautiful, long naturally curly hair.

  “How do you feel?”

  “How do I look?” she asks, squinting her eyes. Her mascara is smudged beneath both eyes.

  “You should have some coffee.” I kick a chair out for her to sit on.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She sits beside me in the shade. I toss her my sunglasses thinking it’ll help her with her headache and the squinting.

  She puts them on. “Thanks.”

  I pour her a cup of coffee from the carafe sitting on the table. “This might help you.”

  “Thanks. What time is it?”

  “Ten.” Suddenly, I remember Beau’s on the property. This might be something she should be aware of. “I have something to tell you.”

  She slowly turns her head in my direction. The sunglasses are dark and I can’t tell if her eyes are opened or closed. “Please don’t tell me I made an ass out of myself last night.”

  Just as I’m about to tell her about Beau, he walks around the corner. “I just wanted to tell you the screen door’s fixed.”

  I watch in my peripheral vision as she sinks lower into the chair. She slowly picks up the book I was reading and lifts it to her face trying to hide behind it.

  “Thank you, Beau. I appreciate it.”

  “Oh, you’re more than welcome.”

  He walks closer to the pool as Carly kicks me beneath the table. “Ouch,” I mumble beneath my breath.

  “I’ll call your Pap later and tell him it’s fixed.”

  “Okay, Beau. Thank you again for everything.”

  He looks at Carly and thinks a moment before saying, “Good morning, Carly.”

  I felt bad for her until she kicked me, but now I’m feeling a little joy from Beauregard seeing her looking her absolute worse.

  “Good morning, Beau.”

  “You feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

  I turn to look at my sister. Will she lie to the preacher, or will she admit she’s possibly still drunk and hung over from the previous night?

  “I’m not feeling well,” she admits. That’s not exactly a lie.

  I decide to do her a favor. “Hey, Beau?” I say, sitting up straighter in my chair.

  He wipes the sweat from his forehead, and I get a quick sinful thought of what I’d like to do to him. Although his tee-shirt fits, his muscular arms are bulging at the biceps. His Levi jeans are riding low on his hips from the weight of his tool belt. I quickly lift my eyes to meet his when I realize my eyes are drifting too far south.

  “Would you and Myra like to join Carly and me for dinner tonight?” I ask, looking at his eyes and not his tool belt.

  He adjusts his tool belt, drawing my eyes south again. Look up, Sarah.

  He looks at Carly. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  Carly remains silent, hoping I’ll say something on her behalf. I don’t. I now focus my attention from his tool belt to my sister. I smile internally, knowing she’ll do the right thing because she’s a God-fearing woman.

  “I’m sure whatever I have will pass by this evening.”

  He takes a step forward. “If you’re sure.”

  “Perfect,” I say merrily. “Is 5:00 too late for your daughter to eat dinner?”

  He smiles, looking more handsome than before. “It’s fine. Should we bring something? Dessert or drinks or anything?”

  “Just bring yourself,” I say. When I feel Carly and Beau looking at me, I get self-conscious. Did I say something wrong? I’m such an idiot. “And bring your daughter, of course.”

  When Beau leaves, Carly removes her sunglasses and stares me down. “I can’t believe you!”

  “What?”

  “First of all, you couldn’t tell me he was here when I literally just crawled out of bed?”

  “I tried to. I told you I have something to tell you.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me I did something stupid last night.” She squinches her eyes and holds her head in her hands. “I need something for this damn headache.”

  The day is spent with Carly napping and trying to sleep off her hangover while I spend my day cleaning and washing the bedding from the other bedrooms. The beach house is just that: a vacation home for the Stewart family. It hasn’t had anyone here in months, maybe even a year. It makes me sad that as Carly and I get older, things change for our family. We don’t vacation together in the summers like we used to, and I don’t call home like I should.

  “Well, I feel better,” Carly says, walking out of the bedroom freshly showered.

  Smiling, I say, “Good. You look beautiful.”

  She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. “I said better and I’m far from beautiful.”

  I watch as she downs a large glass of water from the faucet. “How can you drink that warm, and aren’t you afraid of getting something?”

  She looks at the faucet, her glass, then me. “What, you need filtered water?”

  “Yeah, and you should, too.” Moving my fingers quickly indicating they’re moving freely on their own, I say, “There’re all those organisms living in those pipes.”

  I watch as Carly fills the clear glass with water from the faucet before lifting it up to look through it.

  “Living organisms in this water?” she asks.

  “Yes, they’re microscopic and you can’t see them.” I hide my smile as I know how this sounds.

  “In this glass right here?” she repeats as she lifts the glass to her mouth.

  I laugh and cover my eyes so I don’t have to watch her drink the contaminated water. I might be exaggerating when I say contaminated. Carly swallows noisily, making it hard for me to ignore her.

  “Okay, fine. If you want to be sick, you should drink some more of that stuff.”

  “You kiss a girl, but you won’t drink tap water?” She walks around the kitchen counter and stands in front of me. “You don’t know where her mouth’s been.”

  “And you know where those pipes have been?” We both look back at the kitchen sink before we bust out laughing. Of course, we know where the water pipes have been. They never move. I did read once that a mouth is the dirtiest part of a person. I can’t confirm or deny that. But I wonder if the author has ever seen a soiled diaper. “C’mon, we need to get to the market and pick up something for dinner.”

  I’m now second guessing my decision to invite Beau and his young daughter to dinner tonight. I may not act like it, but I’m a spiritual person deep down inside. I may not go to church, but it doesn’t mean I don’t believe there’s a higher power. I believe we all have to answer to someone bigger than us one day, and I also believe knowing this makes us behave better. I usually need to ask for forgiveness for myself once a day, okay, maybe twice a day. Okay, sometimes I have to ask for forgiveness multiple times in a day. Is it my fault that those thoughts creep into my head? I’m young and I have needs, dammit! And now I need to ask for forgiveness for thinking the word “dammit.”

  We go to the store and refrain from buying wine since Tony’s still here working and he obviously didn’t get around to restocking the shelves from when we were here yesterday. I wonder whether he stocks
weekly and we have already consumed his weekly supply of alcohol for the entire island. That would be embarrassing.

  We buy only items needed for dinner before heading home to get ready.

  ***

  Carly walks out of the bedroom wearing a white and pink floral summer dress and white strappy sandals; her long brown hair is in a high curly ponytail. She’s wearing mascara with a touch of clear lip gloss.

  “Wow!” I say, “You look amazing. That right there is going to turn heads.”

  “Beau’s and Myra’s? Or do you mean Myra’s head and your head? Is it too much?”

  “No, not at all.” She closes the distance between us as she smooths her hands down her flat stomach. “I don’t want to turn heads.”

  “I hate to tell you, but no matter what you wear, you’ll always be turning heads.”

  “Thank you, but should I change?”

  “No, not at all.”

  She looks at me with approval. I decided on a navy and white dress, navy heels, and a pair of studded earrings. My long blonde hair is let down in big curls. I thought it looked nautical and fit the island atmosphere. I decide to turn around to give her the full view.

  “Nice. Not too revealing, conservative.” Carly nods her head. “I definitely approve of that for dinner with the preacher and his daughter.”

  “Should I change? I wasn’t going for conservative.”

  She laughs at my comment while pointing her finger at me. “That’s the gene I didn’t get.”

  Confused I ask, “What gene are you talking about?”

  “That gene, the funny gene, the sexy gene, the beautiful gene. You take after Mom and all of her amazing qualities.”

  Although I do look like our mother, Carly takes after our father’s side of the family. “You think I got all the good genes?” I’m ready to tell her what I didn’t get and why it’s not so great.

  “I know you did. Look at you. You’re stunning, funny, carefree, loving…”

  “I have oily skin, I burn easily, I’m short, and I had to get braces and wear them all through high school. Twice.”

  “That’s because you wouldn’t wear your retainer. But now you have a perfect smile.”

  “And I have to wear a nasty retainer for the rest of my life. That’s not so easy to do when you’re… well, never mind.” I was not about to finish that sentence. She’s my baby sister and she doesn’t need to know everything about me. But I do have two retainers: one for home and one in my purse for those unexpected sleepovers.

  She walks over and hugs me. “I love you and I think you’re amazing.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “And for the record, you did get the good genes.” Before I can say anything, she adds, “I thought we could eat out on the patio by the pool.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “Good, I’ll set the table.” I watch as she saunters over to the antique China cabinet. “Have you given much thought about tonight?”

  “We invited guests for dinner, we bought food, we cooked, and I dressed up for our guests. Yeah, I think I put a lot of thought into it.”

  “Well, the staging area certainly looks inviting.”

  I open the oven door and check on the roast. I’m not sure where’s she headed with his. “What else needs done?”

  “How are you going to control your colorful language through dinner? I mean we have a preacher and his very young daughter coming.”

  “My mouth? What about yours?” How dare she insinuate I’m the crass one. “Jesus Christ, do you really think I can’t control what I say for an hour or two? Besides, I don’t cuss that much.”

  I watch as Carly walks over to the junk drawer. “I’m just going to tape your mouth shut now.”

  When I realize what I just said, I let my head fall back. “I know I have a problem. What am I going to do?”

  We both look outside as a car drives down the driveway. “We have about two minutes to figure it out. I prayed, so I’m good.”

  I watch as Carly goes off to set the outside table while I also say a silent prayer. If this dinner turns into a disaster because I can’t control what I say while in good company, Pap won’t be happy with me. Neither will Gram or Mom.

  I walk to the patio and ask Carly, “You get the door while I do this?”

  “Is that your plan?” she asks. “To just ignore them while they’re here?”

  “No, of course not. I’m just going to try to be occupied with other things until they’re gone.”

  Carly

  I’ve said enough prayers for the both of us today. I love my sister, but I also know how her mouth can get out of control. I just hope her choice of words this evening won’t consist of just blue words when she has the choice of all the other colors in a 120-pack box of Crayola crayons. As I walk to the door, I think I would have been better off taping her mouth shut. Maybe my mouth, too.

  I touch my hair and smooth out my dress before opening the door. My heart beats a little faster than normal when I see Beau standing outside of his car. That man is too good looking to be a preacher. I wonder if God will judge me on my thoughts alone? Let’s hope not. Let’s hope God grades on a curve.

  Walking out onto the porch, I give a friendly wave. Myra gets out of the car; her hair is in a little ponytail and she’s wearing a sundress with flip-flops. Beau is wearing a white linen shirt with Khaki shorts and tan sandals.

  Myra waits for her dad as he gets something out of the front seat. She’s too big for a diaper bag so maybe he’s getting her some toys to play with while they’re here. I suddenly realize that Sarah and I should have thought about getting something to entertain Myra with. Games, coloring books, and crayons. Do people still entertain kids with cartoons? Let’s hope so.

  He closes the car door holding a bouquet of summer lilies and something in a bag. Dessert? Toys?

  “Oh, look,” Sarah says, looking over my shoulder. “He brought a change of clothes.”

  I look over my shoulder at her and line my brows. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, for when he stays the night tonight.” She waves before walking away and leaving me there to greet our guests.

  “Thank you for having us,” Beau says, walking up the four steps leading to the porch. “I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I brought flowers and dessert.”

  “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you.” I take them from him and look into the bag after smelling the flowers. “These are beautiful and you brought cookies.” The flowers are stunning, but I’m a bit confused about his choice of desserts.

  “They’re my favorite,” Myra says.

  That explains it. “They’re my favorite, too. Please, come in.”

  I open the door wide for them. Myra walks in first as Beau holds the door open for me. “After you.”

  I look at him, and I’m surprised by the goosebumps covering my arms. Great, I hope he doesn’t notice them. I can’t remember the last time someone held the door open for me. “Thank you.”

  Sarah’s standing behind me in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine. She must have forgotten about Beau and his occupation and our young guest. I never worried about my sister embarrassing me until this evening. We’ve known Beau and his family our entire life. But people change and we are obviously not the children we were back then. He hasn’t always been a preacher so he’s heard colorful language and he’s probably had wine from time to time.

  “Let me put these flowers in water and these cookies on a platter.” I reach for a vase in the cabinet. “Can I get you two something to drink? Water, milk, juice?”

  “We also have wine,” Sarah says with her back to us.

  Beau looks down at his daughter. “Myra, do want some water?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  “We’re fine, thank you.”

  As I fill the vase with water, I wonder if I should offer to turn the TV on and find some sort of cartoons. The music’s on low and playing through the surround sound
. “Sarah and I thought we could have dinner outside this evening. I hope that’s all right.”

  “It sounds wonderful, but I heard on the radio on the way over here that it’s supposed to rain this evening.”

  I lean up and look outside through the open patio door. There’s a light breeze blowing, but clear blue skies. “Hopefully it’ll hold off until after dinner.” I chastise myself for not checking the weather forecast for tonight.

  Sarah turns around while taking a big gulp of her wine. When she sees Beau, she looks shocked. I think it just dawned on her that he probably doesn’t drink and she probably shouldn’t drink either. I guess I need to worry about more than just her language tonight.

  He looks down at his daughter. “Myra, you want to go outside and see the pool?”

  I watch as he walks outside with his daughter.

  She dumps her wine down the sink. “I do believe that’s the first time I made a man leave the room.”

  I pick up the vase of flowers and carry them outside to place in the center of the table. “You’re going to hell for that,” I say over my shoulder.

  We have dinner outside and I’m pleasantly surprised when Sarah behaves herself. She even remembered to wait for Beau to say grace before we eat. While at the market earlier today, we asked Tony what Beau and Myra liked and didn’t like. We needed to be sure they weren’t vegans or had any food allergies. Tony also informed us that Myra loved hotdogs and macaroni and cheese.

  When Myra saw she had her own special meal, she was thrilled. Dinner was going well until it started to rain. With little warning, the clouds opened up and the rain came down in bucket loads. We barely had enough time to get inside. We all stood at the doorway of the kitchen and watched as the rain extinguished the candles and filled our plates with puddles of rainwater.

  There was nothing else to do but laugh as we watched our dinner become soggy. It took only one person to laugh before everyone was laughing.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” I admit. Beau stands beside me as he clears his throat repeatedly. He looks smugly down at me. “Okay, I might recall someone saying something about a possibility of a few showers sometime this evening.” I try to hide my smile but I fail.