Castles in the Sand

by Sally John

  “Tell me about it. Neither do Mondays, Drake’s official day off.”

  “He’s probably on twenty-four/seven/three hundred sixty-five?”

  “Mm-hmm.” The murmur slid into a vaguely familiar tune.

  “Kind of like us mothers.”

  The music came to an abrupt halt, and Susan’s face crumpled. “I’ve been such a horrible mother!” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper.

  “Susan, we’re all imperfect. We can’t help but to parent imperfectly. All we can do is ask our kids’ forgiveness for however we’ve failed them.”

  “You’ve done that?”

  “Of course. I’ve always told Aidan he was my practice child and the next five were do-overs. Yes, he is the recipient of my biggest parenting blunders, but I tell him to just get over it. I mean, who doesn’t have junk to deal with?” She sobered the jocular tone. “Dealing with it means forgiving me and his dad for all sorts of things. And he certainly can’t do that without God’s help.”

  “I could never say such things to Kenzie.”

  “Why not?” Pepper bit her tongue. Did that question come out huffy?

  “Because I’m her mother. She’d lose respect for me.”

  The back of Pepper’s neck prickled. She locked her tongue between her teeth to prevent a retort from flying off.

  “Wouldn’t she?” Susan asked.

  “For being truthful?” Sorry, Lord. Fix it! I really, really want to connect with her.

  Susan faced the railing again, her gaze toward the ocean.

  “Look, Susan, the thing is, Kenzie needs you. In about four months she is going to give birth to your grandchild.”

  Her shoulders sagged.

  “And I need you too. Friend to friend.”

  Susan looked at her.

  “Mick is as supportive as I could hope for, but let’s face it. He’s a man. My closest women friends haven’t been through this. I’m feeling all alone with Aidan and Kenzie. I’m having a tough time being mom, semi-mother-in-law, mentor, and out-of-wedlock grandma all rolled into one.”

  Two knots appeared above Susan’s brows.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I am enamored with Kenzie. I love her. But—”

  “You love my daughter?”

  “Sure. Because my son does. And she is, after all, the mother of my grandchild.”

  “She’s a handful. She’s scatterbrained. She’s melodramatic. She’s moody.” Her eyes filled. “And she’s the most delightful girl I’ve ever known.”

  Pepper nodded. “Your typical creative personality intensified a hundredfold by mommy hormones.”

  “Oh, my. And you love her.”

  “Not as much as you do.”

  “If I don’t hold her soon, I think I’ll die. But I know I won’t really die, and that makes it even worse. That means I have to live with this pain.”

  “Can I tell her that? Your exact words?”

  She gasped.

  “Why not?”

  “Because—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  As Pepper watched, Susan’s face went through a myriad of changes, from furrows and knots to red splotches and eyes clenched shut.

  Pepper said, “What’s Drake saying in your head right now?”

  “That I shouldn’t do this. That it will interfere with her suffering the consequences of her choices.” Standing immobile, she hummed what sounded a lot like “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.”

  After a long moment, Susan opened her eyes and lifted her chin. “Geez Louise.”

  Pepper nearly burst into laughter.

  “As if professing my love to her would reverse her pregnancy.” Susan waved a hand. “Okay. Tell her. Tell her all of it. Tell her I love her no matter what. Tell her—no. Ask her to please, please get in touch with me and then I can tell her myself.”

  Pepper flipped a mental back handspring. Thank You, Jesus!

  There was hope for reconciliation. Hope for a better start for the young couple. Resisting an urge to leap into the air with a shout, Pepper squeezed her hands together, tensed muscles throughout her body, and steadied her vocal cords. “Susan, it will be my privilege to convey that message.”

  “What do you mean Kenzie’s not here?” Pepper spoke to the back of Aidan’s head as he shut his apartment door. “I thought this was her night off.”

  “It is. She went to Dakota’s.”

  “South or North?”

  “Ha-ha. It’s a girl, Mom.” He faced her now. “Dakota’s her best friend from high school. You want to sit?”

  “Yeah. For a minute.” She sat on the loveseat.

  Though he told her he was not working, his demeanor said she interrupted something. He pulled around a kitchen chair and straddled it backward. The baseball cap on his head sat backward as well. The entire atmosphere felt backward. It was probably left over from her last visit when she realized there was another woman in her son’s life. But still…

  She held up her hands. “I got a mom question.”

  He smiled crookedly and shook his head as if surrendering to the inevitable. “You’re allowed one per visit.”

  “Thank you.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “Are you okay?”

  “Yep.” Too quick. “So what’s up? What did you want to tell Kenzie?”

  “I visited her mother today at their beach house.”

  He lowered his chin to his arms crossed on the chair back, his expression blank.

  “You’re doing a good job there holding in all that disapproval you feel at my meeting with the enemy.”

  His eyebrows rose briefly, up and down. “The other day you sounded like you didn’t care if you ever saw her again.”

  “That was before I realized she and I should be on the same side. I mean, we’re both in the same boat, you know? We even named it the Grandmas out of Wedlock Boat. We are the grandmas. A kid gets only two per life, biologically speaking, anyway. The better we sail together, the better for you and Kenzie and the baby.”

  “So you went recruiting a shipmate.”

  “I guess.”

  “Mom, from everything Kenzie has ever said about her, she’s a loser.”

  “What’s that song you wrote about mercy?”

  “I forget.”

  “I’m sure it’ll come back to you. Listen, the thing is, Susan was so different today, nothing at all like the tense woman I met Tuesday. Even her hair and clothes—It’s too much to try to explain to you. I just have to describe what she was like to Kenzie myself. When will she be back?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on when her ride heads this way. Probably Sunday or Monday.”

  “Huh?”

  “She’s in Phoenix. That’s where her friend lives.”

  “Phoenix? I just saw her yesterday. She didn’t mention anything about a trip.”

  He shrugged. “It came up this morning. Another friend was driving there.”

  Pepper scratched her head and reminded herself that trying to make sense of the chaotic lifestyle of the young and creative was a hopeless waste of energy. But still…

  “You didn’t want to go?”

  “It’s a girl thing. Besides, I have to work. We got a five-night gig at Reilly’s.”

  Pepper crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again.

  “I know you don’t like it, Mom, but it pays the rent.”

  She knew. “And you sing about Jesus in a bar.”

  “He’s already there. I’m just doing what I can to reveal Him.” Aidan lifted his mouth into a tiny smile, the infuriating one he used to forewarn. It conveyed that he was about to express a favorite declaration.

  She knew it well and mouthed the words along with him when he said, “I, Aidan James Carlucci, am a product of Mick and Pepper Carlucci’s wild and wooly faith.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She scratched her head again and tried not to envision drunks who didn’t like the music and loose young women who liked too much the guys who sang it. Kenzie wasn’t even old enough to enter the place.
/>   Pepper stood. “I’d better go.”

  He walked her to the door. “I’ll tell Kenzie what you said about her mom.”

  “There’s a lot more to tell her.”

  “I’m sure we’ll see you before too long.”

  She heard it again, something off in his voice. “What does that mean?”

  “Aw, Mom.” Now it was exasperation. He opened the door. “You were just here the other day.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “The night before that we had dinner with you.”

  “And a few months ago you told me I’m going to be a grandma and that my semi-daughter-in-law had no place to live or work or means of emotional support beyond your family.”

  “I need some space.”

  “Is that why Kenzie left?”

  The pained expression on his face said she struck a chord.

  He needed space. I told my mother the same thing. Mick’s words came to mind. Several times as a matter of fact and it wasn’t nonverbal. Good grief. Now she was sounding like Grandma Carlucci.

  “Oh, man,” she muttered, stepping past him and through the open doorway. “All I need is an Italian accent.” She turned to him. “This is just really, really hard.”

  “Like I don’t know that?”

  She wanted to stick a bar of soap in his mouth.

  Instead, she gathered him into her arms. Their hug was a silent one.

  Nineteen

  Pugsy in tow, Susan entered the church’s main office, a large interior room with glass walls facing the lobby. It was furnished tastefully with two loveseats, four armchairs, and cherry wood end tables. Soft lamplight lit winter’s five o’clock gloom. Pastel blue walls completed the cool, calm, and collected ambience.

  The intended effect did not impact Susan. She had no idea what would restore cool, calm, and collected to her spirit. The memory of a rainy day in front of the fire reading a book felt ages old. After Pepper left the beach house a short while ago, she had quickly gotten herself together—complete with chignon and dress clothes appropriate for a rehearsal dinner—crying the entire time. Though her tears dried as she drove on the freeway, her eyes burned now with unshed ones.

  The room was vacant, the door to Drake’s office closed. She checked the phone on the receptionist’s desk and saw that his line was lit. He was busy.

  Pugsy yipped excitedly and she let him off his leash. He raced down a hallway to her small room, where he knew food and bed awaited. She followed him, passing empty offices. Everyone must have gone home for the evening.

  Her office was scarcely larger than a closet with one slit of a window. She’d moved into it after giving up her duties as Sunday school director. There was no need for her former big office. Occasional meetings with congregants to plan social events like weddings and funerals did not require much space. Tucked away at the end of the hall also made the office an ideal hideaway for Pugsy, who was allowed nowhere else in the building.

  She hung up her coat, put out food and water for the dog, powdered her nose, reapplied eye shadow and lipstick. Procrastinating? Enough spare time to greet Drake before the rehearsal began was almost gone.

  She went back down the hall to his door, rapped twice, and opened it.

  He looked up, phone pressed to his ear. Brows met above his nose, and eyes squinted nearly shut.

  She smiled and waved.

  He held up a hand and spread his fingers. Five minutes.

  Susan backed out and shut the door.

  “Susan!”

  She turned to see Gwyn in the lobby and went out to meet her. As always whenever she happened to meet Gwyn there, she remembered how they had first met that night many years ago. Gwyn had lain just outside the door, a bloody heap. How the woman managed to even walk over that same spot week after week confounded Susan.

  Gwyn grabbed her in a hug. “Am I glad to see you! I know now what your unspoken prayer request was!”

  Every muscle in Susan’s body constricted.

  Gwyn released her and whispered, “It’s the Hathaways, isn’t it? I mean, dear God! Five hundred invitations! Fourteen attendants! Not counting the flower girl and ring bearer! Catered buffet right here! Two weeks before Easter! No wonder you had to get away.”

  Gwyn would not have known such details unless she’d somehow become involved. Susan found her voice. “What happened?”

  “No worries. Melinda called Drake on Wednesday.” She referred to the bride’s mother. “He called Tess. She called me. It was a technical issue with the florist. I handled it. Every single petal contracted for will arrive tomorrow morning on schedule.”

  “Whew. Thank you, Gwyn.”

  “You are so welcome. I was delighted to find a literal way to be there for you.” She smiled. “I thought I could at least give you some moral support at the rehearsal tonight. But I confess, I wouldn’t blame you for not showing up. Yikes. Then they’d be looking to me. How do you handle this stress?”

  She shrugged. “Weddings don’t happen every month.”

  “Do you feel more rested now?”

  She stretched the corners of her mouth upward. “I’m just fine.” No longer hovering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. At least I think not. “I appreciate you coming. Would you mind making sure all the lights are on in the sanctuary? And maybe see if Melinda is around yet? I’ll be right there. I have to talk to Drake for a minute.”

  “Of course.” She flashed her dazzling smile. “Welcome back.”

  As Gwyn headed the other direction, Susan reentered the main office and sat down to wait.

  She noticed a tightness in her chest now accompanied the stomach pain.

  The story of Queen Esther approaching the quarters of King Ahasuerus without an invitation took on a brand-new meaning. Not that Drake had the power to sentence the uninvited to death…It was nothing like that. The comparison was silly.

  But the pain didn’t go away.

  “I’ve missed you, Susan.” Drake hugged her briefly in his doorway. He wasn’t into public displays of affection. For him that meant anywhere in the church, even if the entire building was unoccupied. “How was traffic?” He crossed his office and went around the desk.

  “Not bad.” She wanted a hug, a proper one in strong arms that promised safety. “Rush hour added a little travel time.”

  “Naturally. It’s after three o’clock.” He arranged his desktop, shuffling papers, moving pens. Avoiding eye contact. “We almost had a fiasco with the Hathaways.”

  “Gwyn just told me. She said it’s all taken care of.”

  “Mmm. I thought Tess could handle it.”

  “Gwyn is a little better at this sort of thing.”

  “This sort of trivial thing, you mean.” The nuance in his voice came through loud and clear. Something about Gwyn bothered him. Not that he’d ever confessed that outright, but he always seemed disinterested in talking with or about her.

  Come to think of it, he wasn’t all that keen on any of the Martha Mavens. Except for maybe Tess, the one with an official title, director of women’s ministries.

  Susan said, “I suppose it is a trivial thing. Compared to Tess’ teaching of original Greek scriptures, weddings are insignificant.”

  He slid shut a desk drawer and looked up. “We’d better go.”

  The tightness in her chest had spread, constraining leg muscles and rooting her to the floor. “Drake, we need to talk.”

  “You should have thought of that before choosing to stay at the beach until you knew the freeway would inevitably be gridlocked.”

  “I’m—”

  Drake screens every jot and tittle of what you do.

  Natalie’s admonition shot through her mind. It garbled the “sorry” on the tip of her tongue and shifted her thinking.

  Drake was pouting. Drake pouted a lot.

  She apologized a lot. She explained her decisions, usually before they were made, looking to him to screen every jot and tittle.

  Enough was enough. She unclasped her han
ds and straightened her shoulders and pushed her voice up a notch to chimp level. “I’m going to check on the bride.”

  Susan found Melinda Hathaway in the ladies’ washroom. Her daughter Bree was in a stall, behind its closed door, being loudly, obviously sick.

  “Susan!” Melinda cried.

  They exchanged a quick hug.

  Susan said, “Gwyn told me the bride is not feeling well.” At the sound of gagging, she winced. “Don’t worry. This happens often. Nerves and all.”

  Melinda’s smile fell short of spreading joy to her face. She was about Susan’s age and resembled the majority of women at Holy Cross, healthy, wealthy, attractive, chicly casual, tan, blond-streaked hair. Her daughter was a clone. Bree and Kenzie, though in the same class, had never been friends.

  “Oh!” Bree groaned the other side of the door. “I hate barfing!”

  Susan could see beneath the stall door that the girl was sitting on the floor.

  “Mom, I think maybe I’m done—Oh! Nope!”

  Melinda scrunched up her face and folded her arms over her stomach.

  Susan smiled in sympathy.

  A long moment later, all was quiet. Bree unlatched the door. “I don’t know why they call it morning sickness.” The door swung open. “It’s after five o’clock—Susan!”

  The surprised gaze passed itself around from one woman to another. It circled another time. Bree’s pale face turned pink. Melinda’s bronzed tone went yellow.

  Morning sickness.

  Bree was pregnant.

  Just like Kenzie.

  Drake did not perform wedding ceremonies to expectant couples. After counseling he might consider marrying them in a small private affair in the chapel.

  Melinda and Bree knew that. His stance was no secret to the congregation.

  Drake would cancel the Hathaway wedding in a heartbeat. Or would he? Their tithe alone covered his generous salary.

  No, Drake was not a hypocrite. He would stick to his guns.

  And turn away another young woman who probably needed something besides her pastor’s disapproval.

  Susan grabbed a handful of paper towels from the pile on the vanity and dampened them under the faucet. With the first genuine smile she’d felt in a very long time, she patted the young girl’s distraught face.