Castles in the Sand

by Sally John

  She didn’t stop until she sang the next three verses.

  As she let the last note fade away, another voice rose in song. Soft, distinct, masculine.

  “‘Jesus, keep me near the cross, there a precious fountain, free to all, a healing stream, flows from Calvary’s mountain…’”

  Susan’s breath caught.

  Drake!

  She opened her eyes and twisted around, scanning the room.

  Even when he was seated, his head and shoulders towered above everyone. He sat on a folding metal chair near the door, eyes shut tight, the song tumbling sweetly from him.

  Susan’s muscles tensed, ready to spring and send her flying across the room. To dance for joy before the cross or to throw her arms around her husband? Both. Yes. For certain, both.

  Drake should be at the church! Preaching! Praying! Explaining the reason for the cross!

  But there he sat, singing in the beach house.

  She stared. At last oxygen refilled her lungs.

  He reached the end of the third verse. The familiar chorus and tune nearly burst within her, clamoring for release. Lifting her voice in harmony with his, she felt the years vanish. The two of them were young again, singing duets. They were starting at the beginning. Starting over.

  “‘In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever; till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.’”

  Sixty-One

  At the release of Susan’s first chantlike note, Natalie sank slowly to the floor, her backside brushing down along the refrigerator. The beauty of her sister-in-law’s voice, too long silenced, resonated somewhere deep within her, awaking a sense of holiness.

  She went to her knees.

  And then Drake’s song kept her there.

  As the rhythmical weaving of their two voices rose, she almost pressed her face into the linoleum.

  A short while ago, she and Rex had entered the beach house. They used the side door located at the rear of the kitchen and didn’t go much beyond the kitchen corner. The entire open space was nearly wall-to-wall people.

  Good Friday services always undid her. The ache she began to feel on Palm Sunday magnified itself to an unbearable level. The anticipated fears of Sunday exploded into reality. He died, and He died in a most horrific, excruciating way.

  Mixed in with her usual reaction to the season was all the emotional drama of the past few weeks. She thought she might have to find a beach house of her own and take a sabbatical from life. Maybe in Hawaii. Six months away sounded like a good idea. Thanks to Susan, speechless and frazzled were becoming close friends, two states of being Natalie never would have chosen.

  In the silent stillness that followed their songs, she recalled the previous night’s events in the church office.

  Drake had cried in his brother’s arms until Natalie thought her heart would break in two for him.

  “Rex.” At long last Drake used the tissues she had placed beside him and looked out through red swollen eyes, blowing his nose. “I need to confess my sin.”

  Rex rubbed his shoulder. “Hey, bud, God’s listening. I don’t have to.”

  “No, I need to say it out loud. Natalie, sit down. Please. James says to ‘confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another to be cured; the heartfelt prayer of someone upright works very powerfully.’”

  Natalie sat in a chair angled toward the couch they shared. The depth of Drake’s knowledge of God’s Word always zinged her, even if it all seemed to emanate from his head and not his heart. It was there inside of him anyway.

  Drake’s shoulders rose and fell. “I confess my pride as a grave sin against God and man.” He paused, eyeing her. “Man as in men, women, and children. I ask for your heartfelt prayers. You two are more upright than anyone I know, and I need to be cured. Preferably before I lose my family.” His voice caught. “If I haven’t already.”

  “Oh, Drake,” she said. “Susan will never give up on reconciliation.”

  At that he bawled again.

  And then Rex prayed…for his brother to receive forgiveness and healing and restoration.

  They had talked late into the night. Natalie’s own confession to him of her disrespect led eventually to smiles when he admitted he never really liked her much, either.

  “Apologies, Rex,” he said, “but listening to your wife feels like the dentist’s drill hammering away in my mouth.” He grinned. “The truth is, she challenges my thinking. Pulls me right out of my comfort zone.”

  Natalie nearly fell off the chair.

  He went on in a more somber mode. “Pulls me the exact same way Kenzie does. When Susan started affecting me the same way, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like my back was pushed against a wall. I came out swinging. And then this kid, this boy, comes in talking about confession, baring his soul…” Referring to Aidan, Drake choked up. “I had an awful image of Susan living happily ever after with him and Kenzie and the baby. I wasn’t in the picture.”

  They had driven him home and left, knowing that although Drake took a giant first step, he would not change overnight. They encouraged him to give himself some time alone, away from the office. He agreed he wasn’t ready yet to talk with anyone else, not even Susan.

  Evidently he let his associate take charge of the Holy Cross Fellowship Good Friday service because there he sat now, singing in the beach house with a bunch of boycotters.

  Natalie looked up. She watched Drake slip through the front door. He would not want to face parishioners.

  But what of Susan?

  Her sister-in-law stood and, in spite of the crowd, tore across the room and out the door after him in two seconds flat.

  Natalie turned to Rex seated on the floor beside her. They exchanged a grin.

  Enough of Friday’s death watch. It sure felt like the resurrection was already in progress. Maybe Jesus wouldn’t mind if she jumped ahead of the schedule.

  Sixty-Two

  Pepper cupped the half-empty coffee mug between her hands and fiddled with it, twisting it round in circles. She sat with Aidan at a small table in the hospital’s cafeteria. It was late Friday night. Few people occupied the room.

  She said, “It was good you brought Mickey.”

  Her youngest slept upstairs in the cot. Earlier he had snuggled against the thick plastic jacket-like contraption Mick wore. The little guy was ecstatic to be reunited with his dad.

  “Mom,” Aidan said now, “you’re wiped out. Why don’t you sleep with Mickey at the motel? I’ll stay with Dad.”

  “Why didn’t you bring Kenzie?”

  He sighed.

  Her son shouldn’t sigh when she spoke. “Okay. I’ll go to the motel. Thanks.”

  “I told you she had to work today and tomorrow.”

  “She took off work to go to Phoenix spur of the moment. Mickey adores her. So does your dad.”

  “So do I. It just wasn’t the right time.” His voice was low and gentle, but he stood abruptly. Scooping both their cups from the table, he moved toward the coffeemaker.

  Just what they needed—more caffeine.

  Now she sighed. Surprisingly she, Aidan, Mick, and Mickey Junior had enjoyed the day together, most of it spent in the hospital room. Doctors presented one promising report after another. Mick could recover at home; they almost guaranteed to release him on Sunday. She slipped away to shower at the motel Aidan had checked into, pleased with the thoughtful job her daughters had done in packing her clothes.

  Still, she reeled from the events. One minute she was laughing with Kenzie and the next she heard Mick had been hit by a car and seriously injured. Life often resembled a walk on a balance beam. Okay, she could live with that. It served to center her, to keep her eyes focused on the One who walked alongside, holding her hand. But suddenly some unseen force lifted up one end of the beam, gave it a good jerk, and dropped it. She couldn’t quite get her bearings.

  The coffee cup reappeared at her hand.

  “Mom.” Aidan slid back onto the chair across the
table. “I talked to her dad—”

  “Hon, I’m sorry I’m taking it all out on you—You did what? You talked to her dad? Kenzie’s dad? Drake?”

  “Yeah. I decided to be a man about things. Don’t fall off the chair there. I don’t want two parents in the hospital.”

  “What do you mean, a man about things?”

  He grinned. “Come on. What did you and Dad teach us about getting married?”

  “You mean besides the part about having a baby after the fact?”

  “If you’re going to strike low blows—”

  “Sorry. Um…I don’t know. What did we teach you?”

  “Something I’d never expect from such wild, wooly, and unconventional people. You told the story about how Dad asked Grandpa for his blessing before he proposed to you. Dad said it was a beautiful thing, sort of a rite of passage. You both hoped I would do it and that the twins’ boyfriends would.”

  “When did we say that?”

  “I was five.”

  She laughed and laughed.

  Aidan smiled. “I asked Grandpa about it and he told me how impressed he was with Dad.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I always liked the sentiment. It really doesn’t matter what Drake had answered. I’d still want us to get married. But with our situation and all the unresolved issues with her family, I felt it was the right thing to do. The Old Testament blessings carried a lot of weight, didn’t they? I thought this might help clear the air between him and me.”

  “And did it?”

  He nodded slowly. “For me it did. The guy was speechless, but after a few eternal seconds he said yes, we had his blessing.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, big wow.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Tall.” He grinned.

  “Come on. Seriously.”

  “Really tall.” He held up a hand to cut off her protest. “He’s just a guy, Mom. I went to the church office. The secretary said he was with someone, but I could wait. She left. Then Natalie and Rex came in. Drake was angry when I told him my name. I said I loved Kenzie and would take care of her the rest of my life and hope he would give us his blessing. He sputtered a bit and finally said yes.”

  “Wow,” she said again as tears welled. “Double big wow. Aidan James Carlucci, I am so proud of you.”

  “Thanks. I guess I’m trying to mimic Dad. I love a woman like he does. I want a family like he has. I want to do the right thing like he always tries to do. It’s all about something bigger than us. I guess that would be God. I know Kenzie and I are not in a right place, living in this gray twilight of in between. Marriage isn’t a piece of paper, but the piece of paper sort of formalizes or solidifies things. I don’t know. It announces that we have taken part in a holy sacrament. That feels good to me now.”

  Thank You, God. She dabbed a napkin at her eyes. Thank You.

  “But I don’t know if your prayers are answered yet, Mom. Kenzie’s backing off, wanting her space.”

  “Did you tell her about her dad?”

  “No. There wasn’t a chance with all those people around last night at the service.”

  “So you didn’t actually propose?”

  He shook his head. “She was too upset.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. She said she couldn’t handle the people, her dad’s church people. But she mumbled something about not being worthy, I think in reference to taking communion.”

  Now Pepper sighed. The balance beam tilted again.

  “I told Millie.”

  “Millie?”

  “Yeah, you know. One of the old twins with white hair. The Martha Maven?”

  “Mildred! The Prayer Warrior.”

  “That’s the one. I told her.”

  The beam steadied itself beneath her feet. She touched Aidan’s arm and smiled. “Okay. If Mildred’s on top of it, then we can sleep. Let’s go.”

  Sixty-Three

  Although Susan rushed from the beach house moments after Drake’s exit, his long strides carried him far ahead of her down the empty boardwalk. He moved quickly through the dark between spots of light cast by the lampposts.

  Two houses past Julian’s she slowed. The ocean whooshed loudly at her right. Her voice would never carry far enough.

  Why was she chasing after him anyway? Obviously he didn’t care to talk to her.

  But he had come! And of course there was that houseful of people. Not exactly ideal for a private conversation.

  And he had sung! She could not remember the last time he sang a solo or a duet with her. Now and then his voice carried over that of the congregation’s because he was near a microphone, but it never lifted so sweetly as tonight, not since the old days.

  The old days…That was why she chased after him.

  She broke into a jog, but soon slackened her pace again, defeated at the growing space between them, at her shortness of breath.

  Gone again…just like Kenzie.

  Then he stopped and sat on the seawall, his back to her.

  And she ran.

  “Drake! Drake!”

  At last he turned and, seeing her, stood, his hand aloft in greeting.

  She hurried to him, her heart pounding. Joy and fear somersaulted, playing havoc with her emotions.

  “Susan!” He caught her in his arms.

  Her face against his shirt, arms around his waist, she gasped for breath. She became aware of his chest rising and falling, but not in a measured way. It heaved as if he…cried.

  After a time, when they both had calmed, she looked up at him and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper.

  “Are you the man who just sang a duet with me?”

  The lamplight shone his lips curve upward. “I love you.”

  “I love you. Where are you going?”

  “Home. I didn’t want this…” He tilted his head in the direction of the beach house. “I didn’t want it to be about me. After I heard your voice, I couldn’t help but sing. It just bubbled out. But tonight is all about the cross. If people started talking to me…” He left the sentence dangle.

  “Can we talk?”

  He exhaled a deep sigh. “I’d like nothing more.”

  Rubbing goose bumps on her arms, she glanced at the concrete seawall and the dark ocean. With a warm houseful of people, she had not dressed for a nighttime stroll. “Are you parked close?”

  “Not far.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Shall we sit in the car? Or go somewhere?”

  “I’d rather stay put. Let’s sit in the car.”

  “All right.”

  They walked another couple blocks in silence, side by side, but not touching. After their initial embrace, Susan felt overcome with shyness. Drake seemed almost a stranger. She had seen him cry now and then in earlier years, but he had never clung to her as he had done just now. The kind gesture of him giving her his coat spoke volumes. Likewise his asking what she preferred to do and agreeing without an offer of his own opinion.

  He was paying attention to her.

  It felt odd. It felt as though she were nineteen again.

  If he resembled Drake at all, it was Drake at twenty-four. Five years older than her, he first noticed her in the campus cafeteria where she worked. What charmed her most from the moment he introduced himself was how he paid attention to every detail concerning her. How his manner told her she was real and worthy of attention.

  They climbed into the car. Parked at the end of a street, it faced the ocean. A nearby pole lamp dispelled some of the interior shadows. Drake’s face was not in total darkness.

  Turning on the engine he pointed at the windshield. “Heat and a view.”

  “What else do we need?”

  “Probably quite a few things.” He shifted in his seat to face her. “Susan, I don’t know where to begin.”

  Hesitant and vulnerable? Nope. This was not a twenty-four-year-old Drake. This was a Drake sh
e’d never met.

  She said, “We could start with why you’re here. My goodness, what’s going on at church?”

  “Vince took over. He jumped at the chance to preach. That is, after he picked himself up off the floor at my offer.” A smile flickered. “Eventually he got around to asking what was wrong. I told him I’m tired. That the boycott was an acceptable form of loving protest. It wouldn’t hurt the body of Holy Cross, but it did communicate to me that something is off kilter. I also told him I needed to be with you.”

  “Oh, my. You said all that to Vince?”

  “Yes. He asked me what to tell the congregation tonight. And I said…” Drake’s voice grew thick and he paused. “I said ‘Tell them what I just told you.’”

  Susan reached over and he grasped her hand.

  Blinking back her own tears, she said, “The boycott brought you here?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Indirectly. I told you it got my attention. All negative. Rex’s rendition of it and his rebuke to get real only angered me more. Some deacons patted me on the back. ‘Hang in there. You’re in the right. Susan is the epitome of submissive. This is a minor lapse in her judgment. She just needs a little time. She’ll come round.’”

  She shuddered at the description.

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand. “I am sorry for surrounding myself with cheerleaders. Not that I’ve allowed a deacon to disagree with me for some time and maintain his position on the board. They were only protecting themselves from receiving my indignant wrath. So, armed with all that affirmation, I came down here Wednesday to fix things between us. I knew…I’m sorry.” He bit his lip.

  “Knew what?”

  “I knew I could make you change your mind.”

  She nodded. “I was a cheerleader too.”

  “Yes.”

  She gazed through the windshield. Wasn’t she supposed to be his cheerleader, to always root for him? Wasn’t that the positive spin on submission? To stand by her man no matter what?