by Sally John
Sally John
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, 21st Century King James Version (KJ21®). Copyright © 1994, Deuel Enterprises, Inc., Gary, SD 57237, and used by permission, and from The New Jerusalem Bible, copyright © 1985 by Darton, Longman & Todd, Ltd. and Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. Reprinted by Permission.
Some quotations are also taken from The Book of Common Prayer.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Ste #200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
Cover photos © Ross Anania / Photodisc Red / Getty Images; Krzysztof Nieciecki / istockphoto; Ron Hohenhaus / istockphoto
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
CASTLES IN THE SAND
Copyright © 2006 by Sally John
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
John, Sally, 1951-
Castles in the sand / Sally John.
p. cm. — (The beach house series ; bk. 2)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7369-1317-1 (pbk.)
ISBN-10: 0-7369-1317-3 (pbk.)
Product # 6913173
1. Pregnancy, Unwanted—Fiction. 2. Clergy—Family relationships—Fiction. 3. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 4. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 5. Seaside resorts—Fiction. 6. Domestic fiction. 7. Psychological fiction. I. Title. II. Series.
PS3560.O323C37 2006
813'.54—dc22
2006004026
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 / BC-MS / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Acknowledgments
The Beach House Ladies
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Sixty-Seven
Sixty-Eight
Sixty-Nine
Seventy
Epilogue
Questions for Discussion
Other Books by Sally John
About the Author
For
Selah Grace Carlson
Acknowledgments
I am so very grateful to my “walking encyclopedias” who responded to a myriad of requests for information throughout the writing of this story and to my encouragers who read early drafts—
Cindi Cox; Elizabeth, Tracy, Patti, and Christopher John.
Special thanks to~
Dave and Peggy Hadacek, for the provision of a writing table.
William Payton, for an uncommon expression of the faith.
Much appreciation to~
All the wonderful people at Harvest House Publishers, who tenderly care for my work.
Heartfelt thanks to my gracious collaborator~
Editor Kim Moore.
And, as always, thanks to my Tim.
The Beach House Ladies
Susan Starr ~
Wife of Drake; mother of Kenzie, 19; wedding coordinator; singer
Natalie Starr ~
Susan’s sister-in-law; wife of Rex; mother of two boys; soccer coach
Kenzie Starr ~
Susan’s daughter; girlfriend of Aidan Carlucci; barista; musician
Pepper Carlucci ~
Wife of Mick; mother of six, including Aidan, 25; bookstore clerk
The “Martha Mavens” ~
Mildred and Leona: 77-year-old twins; widowed
Tess: wife; mother; director of church women’s ministries
Gwyn: divorced; paralegal
Emmylou: wife; pregnant with first child; hairdresser
Yahweh your God is there with you,
the warrior-Saviour.
He will rejoice over you with happy song,
He will renew you by His love,
He will dance with shouts of joy for you,
as on a day of festival.
–Zephaniah 3:17-18 NJB
Prologue
New Year’s Day
San Diego, California
A few minutes after seven o’clock in the evening on January first, the year her daughter was nineteen years old, Susan Starr nearly fainted for the first time in her life.
“Mom?”
Susan’s head felt cotton stuffed, but she heard concern in Kenzie’s voice. The sight of her only child dimmed as if a gauzy curtain had dropped between them. Black shadows pawed at the edges of the curtain. She leaned forward until her head hung between her knees.
“Dad! Do something!”
“Young lady, after what you just told us, there isn’t a thing I can do. What did you expect? You’re out of the country for four months, and then you come home with…with…with this!”
Even in her half-coherent state, Susan realized her husband was about to launch into a tirade. It meant civil, three-sided conversation was over.
She sat up and blinked, pretending she could see straight. “Drake, I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” He rose from his armchair and drew all six slender feet and three inches of himself upright, stiff and straight as the fireplace poker on the hearth behind him. “Our unwed, unemployed daughter has just announced that she’s—” He clamped his mouth shut.
Pregnant. Susan filled in the blank and gazed at Kenzie, seated all alone in the center of the couch. She resembled an imp, especially now with her short dark brown hair spiked every which way. Some people judged her insolent before she uttered a word. They would say the silliest things about
her attitude, even when she was a baby.
A baby.
Tears stung Susan’s eyes, and she put a hand to her mouth. Her baby was having a baby!
Drake propped his hands on his hips. “Mackenzie, how could you?” Though his height and glower intimidated, he never raised his voice during a rebuke. When extremely agitated he lowered the volume to just above a whisper. Like now, it commanded more attention than an out-and-out, top-of-the-lungs roar.
He went on. “Shock and dismay do not begin to describe our reaction! How do you think your mother will ever be able to show her face again? And how do you think I can ever preach again? What am I supposed to say to my congregation? ‘By the way, forget everything I’ve ever taught in the past ten years about parenting. My single, jobless, sometimes-college student of a daughter is—’” Again he locked his jaw, cutting off the key word.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.” It was Kenzie’s third reiteration of an apology. She had opened and closed her confession with it: I’m sorry. I have to tell you something, and you’re going to be upset. But—I’m pregnant. I’m sorry.
“Honey.” Susan paused, not sure how to delicately phrase the question. “Who…who’s the father?”
“Aidan.”
Drake plunked back onto his chair as if rammed there by something.
Susan said, “Oh.”
Aidan Carlucci. The guy from the band. Sort of…grungy-looking. Older. By what? Five or six years? Long hair. Susan met his parents once. The father wore his hair in a ponytail. The mother had a peculiar name.
“Mom, I love him.” Unlike her flat tone of voice, her eyes pleaded. They were pale blue like Susan’s and outlined in Drake’s deep gray color. Slanted in a curious, almost foreign way, they aided and abetted the elfin image. “He loves me.”
Drake huffed. “Love. What could you possibly know about love at your age? It has nothing to do with one-night stands. You have to be friends first. For goodness’ sake, we don’t even know his family. There are more than a thousand people in the church, and you take up with some stranger.”
“It wasn’t a one-night stand.”
He went speechless again. His face reddened.
“And we are friends.” She turned to Susan. “Give him half a chance. You’ll like him.”
“Does he know?”
“Why wouldn’t he? We’re in this together. He’s totally committed to the relationship.”
“Oh.” Susan twisted a piece of hair dangling loose from the French twist Kenzie had arranged just hours ago, before dinner. They had giggled…
The fire crackled. Rain beat against the windows with a steady staccato sound. Lights twinkled on the Christmas tree in the corner.
Susan could not get her mind around Kenzie’s news. The ramifications were endless. But…the situation was not all that uncommon, even among their congregation. Off the top of her head she counted three couples—good, solid people—who housed out-of-wedlock grandchildren and—
She gasped. “I’m going to be a grandmother!”
Kenzie flashed a smile. “Yeah. Grandma Susan.”
A brand-new knowledge burst inside of her. She loved this unborn soul! Loved him with all her being. Flesh of her flesh…of her flesh. Another generation had begun.
She felt her heart leap across the room, flying toward the grandchild. She longed to literally dance after the feeling and embrace Kenzie and—by extension—the little one. But she hesitated…and then the moment was gone and Drake was speaking.
“Kenzie, I cannot marry you in the church. You know that, right? I do not perform the ceremony for anyone who has had relations.”
“Drake!” Susan sputtered his name. “This is our daughter!”
“I’d look like a hypocrite.”
“But—”
“No, we will not discuss it further. The people know my stance. I have to live out what I preach.”
“You married the Malcolms in the chapel. We could—”
“Perhaps, but I—”
“Mom! Dad!” Kenzie held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not getting married.”
“What?” Drake’s low-keyed voice took on an edge.
“Oh, honey,” Susan whispered. The worst of her fears had just become reality. Not only was her child unwed and pregnant, she planned to remain unwed. How had such upside-down social norms taken hold of her?
“Mackenzie.” Drake put his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers together, and hunched forward. The reasonable tone prevailed again. “I don’t like what I’m about to do, but you leave us no choice.”
Susan anticipated his words. She had heard them often enough in his sermons. Time ground into slow motion as she stared at the two people she loved most in the world, sensing that they were about to break her heart.
Drake, always the epitome of a respected public figure, scrambled for control. His shoulders, elegantly nestled in powder blue cashmere, sagged. His long tan face, more handsome at forty-eight than twenty-five, creased with tension. Even his short silver-streaked dark brown hair, moussed in a stylish stand-up fashion, seemed to droop. His mouth worked as if his tongue pressed chewing gum against the back of his teeth, readying it for bubble blowing. It was an old nervous habit, long ago trained away.
Only Kenzie could push the right buttons to make it surface again.
Of course, he pushed her buttons as well. There she sat, her mouth in its perpetual half-open position, giving the impression she was eager to laugh or suggest mischief…or smart off to her dad. She seldom did the latter, choosing instead to express herself with moderation. Like him, she could withstand incredible pressure.
But tonight the button pushing soared to new heights.
Years before, Susan had created a way to diffuse her own discomfort when they went at it like this, fussing at each other. She envisioned teensy, pearly buttons lodged in the identically upturned tips of their noses. In her imagination Drake and Kenzie tapped forefingers against each other’s buttons. The image distanced Susan from the tense situation. Sometimes it even made her smile.
At the moment it wasn’t working.
Drake cleared his throat. “You leave us no choice. If you insist on having a child out of wedlock, you are not welcome in this house.”
Susan lost all feeling in her limbs. Anticipated or not, the words drained life from her, melding her body into the upholstery. Incapable of processing what was happening, her mind shut down as well.
Kenzie uncurled her slender self from the couch and stood. “Well, that was no surprise. I’ll get my things.”
“I don’t mean tonight. We’ll sort through details in the morning.”
“No, Dad. There’s nothing to sort through. I didn’t expect any support from you.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. The button had been pushed too far. “The car stays here.”
“That’s not fair. I paid for half of it!”
“So take half of it.”
“Fine!” With a glance at Susan, she stomped from the family room.
Drake covered his face with his hands. “We had to do that. We had to. How can she learn if she doesn’t suffer the consequences of her choices?”
Burning logs in the fireplace snapped and crackled. A gust of wind slammed a sheet of rain against the windows.
Her baby was having a baby.
Like a robot, Susan stood.
“Don’t go after her.”
“It’s dark and cold and raining.”
“She’ll get a ride to a friend’s. And tomorrow or the next day she’ll come to her senses. We just have to gut this out.”
Susan hesitated. Kenzie was, if nothing else, resourceful. She’d been on her own, more or less, for years. Even as a youngster she spent nearly as much time with friends’ families as with her own. Since working as a babysitter at the age of twelve, she had seldom asked for money. She graduated from high school at seventeen and soon after moved out—
From the entryway came the sound of the front door openi
ng and closing. Her daughter traveled lightly.
Drake lifted a mournful face to her and held out a hand. Tears pooled in his eyes.
She went to him.
One
Late March, Lenten Season
On a sunny afternoon in late March, Susan trailed behind her sister-in-law through a narrow passageway between two beach houses. Not far beyond the sidewalk’s end, ocean waves rushed toward shore.
“I don’t feel right about this.” Susan’s thoughts were not on the surroundings.
Natalie Starr, wife of Drake’s younger brother and confident to an almost annoying degree, halted her brisk steps and turned. “Which part don’t you feel right about? Five days at the beach in hopes of preventing a nervous breakdown? The feeling that you’ve abandoned Drake? The fact that you sent your daughter packing? Or that you lie to people at church concerning her whereabouts?”
“I don’t exactly lie. I just tell them she returned from the band’s European tour excited as a puppy—which she was—and is living with friends again. Which she is, I assume, since she hasn’t come home.”
Natalie cocked her head and pursed her lips. Sunbeams shone in her dark curly hair, highlighting reddish tones.
Susan diverted her attention to her little pug dog gaily crisscrossing the walkway, sniffing flower beds on both sides, oblivious to any tension. Pugsy, fawn colored and chubby, had originally been Kenzie’s dog that short season she attended college and lived in a pets-allowed apartment. Somehow, somewhere along the way, responsibility for the dog fell to Susan. She didn’t mind.
“Come on, Susan. Spit it out.”
There was no escaping Natalie’s prodding. “Well, in truth, I guess all of the above. A few days here without Drake, sending Kenzie off, and keeping her situation a secret from the congregation, from friends. I don’t feel right about any of it.”
“That’s what I thought. You know, wallowing in guilt is overrated. Confess the sending and the lying as wrong and forget the rest. You need some R and R. It was Drake’s choice not to come. Smell this salt air, listen to the beat of those waves. Give your mind a break.” She sighed. “And call the boy’s parents tomorrow.”
“The gospel according to Natalie.”