The Sand Castle

by Rita Mae Brown

Louise laughed, bending down to kiss his cheek. “Don’t do that. By the time the water warms up you’ll be safe.”

  He nodded but clearly did not believe this.

  “Who’s hungry?” Mother took Leroy’s blanket and spread it out.

  Louise spread out my blanket and within minutes ham biscuits, cheese, little apple tarts, and deviled eggs graced the center of the blankets.

  Mother poured hot tea for herself and me. Aunt Louise liked coffee, as did Leroy, so they drank from her green thermos, which had thin red concentric pin stripes. Co-colas and 7 UPs nestled in the cooler since no one in our family could survive long without one or the other. Occasionally, Mother would knock back a jigger of whiskey followed by a Co-cola but not often. When she did it was usually in winter after she’d trudged in from finishing her chores. No one in our family was a drinker except for PopPop, who came back from Verdun a changed man. He was good to me and let me sleep with his foxhounds as well as play with them—but sleeping with them was the big prize. Mother and Louise said he was never the same after the war. He drank off and on but when he was on, he’d drink a fifth of whiskey a day. Yet the minute he knew I was coming to stay with him he stopped. I didn’t understand it.

  Uncle Ken seemed the same after World War II, at least on the outside. Louise said that Ginny told her he’d wake up crying in the middle of the night. I never saw it myself. It was kind of funny, too, because he was proud to be a marine but said over and over he never wanted Leroy to go to war.

  Once I told Uncle Ken I wanted to fight.

  He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “You would, too, but put it out of your mind.”

  Mother and Louise talked about the fall clothing coming into the department store on the downtown square. The colors proved a big topic, with Mother liking the plaids and Aunt Louise getting particular about what kind of plaid.

  Since at that point I didn’t know the difference between clan MacLeod and the tartan of the clan Lamont, I focused on Leroy. “You think a shark will eat you?”

  “How about a manta ray?” His blue eyes widened.

  “Too far north.”

  “How do you know?” he challenged me.

  “Cause I read National Geographic, that’s why.”

  He whispered, ham biscuit crumbs on his rosy lips, “Aunt Louise won’t let me read it. Naked women. I saw one once and she had rings around her neck and her neck was long as a giraffe. No clothes hardly.” He then covered his mouth with his hand and giggled.

  I whispered back, “I saw that issue, too.”

  Mother had taught me to say, “issue” for periodicals. A stickler for proper identification of everything, she’d bang on me until I got it right.

  “Cow udders.” He giggled louder.

  I whispered louder as I looked down at my flat chest, “If I grow lung warts like that I will die. Really and truly, Leroy, I will die.”

  We both turned our eyes to look at Mother and Aunt Louise’s breasts which stood out nicely in their camp shirts, they each had a light sweater thrown over their shoulders, pressed shorts on their shapely legs. Men always looked at their legs so I guessed they were special. Then we giggled more.

  “What are you two giggling about?” Mother reached over to playfully swat my head.

  “Nothing,” I lied, and we laughed even harder.

  This made Mother and Aunt Louise laugh and then we all laughed although by now we didn’t know why. It didn’t matter.

  “Juts, remember Aunt Doney’s bathing suit?”

  This brought on a war whoop from Mother, who laughed anew. “Oh, my God.” She wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Kids, Aunt Doney wore this bathing suit that had to be from the 1880s if it was a day. Well, the darn thing was wool. I mean your Aunt Doney and Uncle Jim could afford a new bathing suit but, well, that’s another story. She walked into the Bay. . . .”

  “And the waves hit the shore.” Aunt Louise dabbed her eyes because Aunt Doney was big as a house, the only family member who turned to fat.

  Mother laughed more, then returned to the tale, “So she’s out there paddling around and finally she comes on in. The day was right hot and to make a long story short, the suit shrunk. Whole sections of Aunt Doney hung over the edges of the suit. She about had a fit.”

  “Did it itch?” I wondered.

  “Yeah and cut the circulation off her legs and arms so Uncle Jim told her she had to take it off, but there wasn’t a place to change or wash up. But there was a nice big bucket by the outdoor pump, so we trundled over there. Louise and I had to hold up blankets so no one could see, and she stripped off the bathing suit, washed with the bucket. She’d pump and pump, pump and pour. There was a lot to wash. We’re holding the blankets and remember, we’re not much bigger than you all and our arms grew weary. Uncle Jim hurried to fetch her frock, as he called it. Before he got back to us this wind whipped in right off the Bay and we couldn’t hold onto the blankets which were bigger than we were. Honey, there stood Aunt Doney just screaming and hollering vowing to kill us on the spot.”

  “I didn’t know Uncle Jim could run that fast.” Louise cried from laughter.

  “If she’d kept her trap shut a few people would have noticed a large white lady naked by the water pump but no, she has to scream bloody murder and everyone on the beach witnessed all that jelly flab quivering.”

  They leaned on one another shoulder to shoulder, laughing. One would subside, then the other would start up. They were worse than Leroy and me.

  It was good to see Aunt Louise laugh.

  “What she do to you?” Leroy, cautious of punishment, put down his ham biscuit.

  “She made us go sit on the bench telling us we couldn’t swim in the Bay. We were supposed to sit there until the mule jitney came by to carry us back to the train depot.” Mother smiled at the memory.

  “Did you?”

  “Well. . .,” Mother fudged, since she didn’t want Leroy and I to know what a devil she was, except we knew because not much had changed, she was just bigger, that’s all.

  “Your mother told everyone who passed by that an evil fat lady had forced us to sit on the green bench in the searing heat. We were going to dry up and fall down. Oh, it was a pitiful performance.”

  Breathlessly Leroy asked, “What happened?”

  “A nice gentleman walked to the police station and the policeman came by on his horse to see what was doing. Juts really pulled out the stops so he took us to the station and we got cleaned up by the lady behind the desk. We were full of sand. And then they gave us ice cream.” Aunt Louise relished the story.

  “And they arrested Aunt Doney for cruelty to children.” Mother laughed so hard she had to hold onto Louise or she’d tump over.

  “It was a mess, I can tell you that, and Uncle Jim had to pay a fine and then he paid them more to keep it out of the papers. Great day.” Louise drew out “day” in the Southern manner.

  Aunt Doney didn’t talk to us the whole way home, and that was a long train ride, I can tell you.” Mother again wiped tears from her eyes.

  “What did your Mama do when you got home?” Leroy’s shoulders hunched up, already worried.

  “She laughed and laughed. Aunt Doney got so mad at her she didn’t speak to her for a whole month and Mama said it was a blessed relief.” Louise leaned on her sister again.

  “It wasn’t our fault a big wind came up.” Mother’s chin jutted out for a moment.

  “Wasn’t our fault she ate so much pie and cake, either. That woman could eat, eat like a farmhand. She didn’t eat like that in public but when it was just us, she used her fork like a shovel. I vowed I would never look like that when I sat down at the table.” For emphasis Louise again patted her lips with her cloth napkin.

  “You don’t eat much, Louise. Your prayer of thanks takes so long the food gets cold. You lose your appetite.” Mother teased her.

  “Juts, you’re such a Philistine.”

  “What’s a Philistine?” Leroy asked.<
br />
  Aunt Louise removed her sweater as the sun climbed higher, dissipating the dawn clamminess. “What do they teach you at St. Patrick? You don’t know what a Philistine is?”

  “Apparently, it’s me.” Mother’s red lipstick accentuated her grin.

  “Juts.” Louise used her schoolmarm tone.

  “Jesus didn’t like them,” I volunteered.

  “Your Aunt Louise doesn’t like them,” Mother said, a devilish lilt to her voice.

  “All right, mock me if you must, but these children need to learn.” She waited a moment, drama building in her mind at least. “The Philistines used to live in southwest Palestine and they made war on the ancient Israelites. But to call someone a Philistine means they’re vulgar, common, that they only care about material things.”

  “Oh, like Mrs. Mundis.” I inhaled the odor of the Bay, slightly saline at Point Lookout.

  “Now, now.” Louise sounded very charitable but really she liked my comment because Claudia Mundis had more money than God, and seemed intent on spending it.

  “You know, Sis, she’s almost finished with her new garden home.”

  “She’s just nouveau riche and there’s no two ways about it,” Aunt Louise sighed.

  “Better nouveau riche than no riche at all.” Mother fished for a Chesterfield in her straw bag, found it, then dropped a line to find her lighter.

  “Blood tells.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Louise, not that again.”

  “Our family landed in Maryland in 1634 with Leonard Calvert. That landing became St. Mary’s City and here we are in St. Mary’s County.” Aunt Louise threw out her chest, which was impressive.

  “And it never put a penny in my pocket.” Mother glanced overhead as a flock of terns zipped along. “Isn’t it something how every bird is different and every kind of bird is perfect for what it has to do? I love watching.”

  Mother hated the Southern snottiness over genealogy. Dad’s family arrived in Virginia in 1620. He never once mentioned it although his mother trumpeted this deathless information loud and clear. Maybe their disdain for blood arrogance was one of the ties that bound them.

  By seven-thirty the lovely beach started to fill. Colorful umbrellas were stuck in the sand, and blankets were spread out, big striped towels folded to the side. Everyone toted a hamper. Leroy and I noted no kids our age. We weren’t going to play with babies, the worst. The teenagers thought the same thing about us.

  “I’m going for a swim.” Mother stood up, stepped out of her shorts and took off her white camp shirt. Her one-piece bathing suit was a pretty melon color, and showed off her figure. Mother could turn heads. She gloried in it.

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” Louise affixed a floppy straw hat to her curls. She loved hats.

  I jumped up to race after Mother, then stopped, “Come on, Leroy.”

  “No. Sharks. I saw those fish jumping.”

  “Ah, that was a long time ago. Come on.”

  “Nope.”

  “Crabs will get you,” I threatened him, and as if to prove my point along sidled a little blue crab. “See.”

  “Better a crab than a shark.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Philistine.” He grinned using that big word.

  This set Aunt Louise off which pleased Leroy even more.

  Just as Mother stepped into the water, which was still cold, I splashed by her, getting water all over. She squinted, then bent over and threw water on me.

  “You’re all wet, kid.”

  “You, too.” I loved Mother.

  It wasn’t until later in my school years that I realized some children don’t love their mothers or fathers. Course when you met their parents you understood why.

  She reached out for me and took my hand. “Come on.”

  We waded out until my feet couldn’t touch bottom, but she’d lift me up every time a swell rolled in. When the water reached her bosoms, she held me with both hands.

  “How deep is it, Mother?”

  “How tall am I?”

  “Uh, six feet.”

  She laughed, “Nickel, I’d be taller than Dad. He’s five ten. Try again.”

  “Five feet.”

  “Close, kid, but no cigar.” She still had her Chesterfield dangling from her mouth but it was burning down fast.

  I considered Mother’s cigarette a fashion accoutrement.

  “Five two?”

  “Bingo. So how deep is it? Think about how tall I am and how high the water is. Use your head.”

  “Maybe four feet.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She smiled, then carried me back until my feet could touch. “You can almost always figure things out if you look around. That’s the trouble with most people, honey, they listen to what other people tell them or they stick their nose in the sand. Use your head.”

  “Daddy always says, ‘Put your money in your head, no one can steal it from you there.’”

  She smiled, “He’s full of sayings. Usually right.” She turned around to glance back at the beach. “For Christ’s sake, Louise is sitting there putting on lotion. One freckle will send her to the emergency room.”

  “She doesn’t have freckles.”

  “That’s the point.” Mother released my hand. “I wish I had the money my sister spends on potions.”

  “Perfumes, Aunt Wheezie has more perfumes than anyone.”

  “She does, doesn’t she?”

  “How come she called you a Philistine?”

  “Oh, she was joking. She didn’t mean it ugly. I could have gotten even and called her a Pharisee.”

  “Jesus didn’t like them either.” Bible school had some effect on me and I’d heard the word but I didn’t know exactly what a Pharisee was. Just like I’d heard the word “eucharist” but didn’t exactly know what it meant.

  “Hypocrites. A Pharisee is a hypocrite, praying loudly in public and then doing whatever he wants when no one is looking.”

  “Is Aunt Wheezie really a Pharisee?”

  “Well . . . no, but she’s sure trying to rub the Bible off on everyone and she’s not perfect. Ever since Ginny died she’s turned into a religious nut.” Mother stared at me, then touched my shoulder. “It’s horrible to lose a daughter. I try to remember that when I get mad at her or when she starts being more Catholic than the Pope.” She cupped her hands, lifting water that was clear, then opened them and watched it fall back into the Bay. “Time. She’ll leave off bleeding Jesus in time.”

  “Mother, you know when you kneel next to me when I say my prayers?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to say that prayer anymore.”

  “The Lord’s Prayer?” This surprised her.

  “No. I don’t want to say, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.’”

  She pursed her lips, ready to say something, then stopped herself. “I see.”

  “When Aunt Ginny died Leroy and I didn’t want to say that prayer anymore but we were scared to say anything.”

  “You’re not scared now.”

  “Time.” I smiled up at her.

  “Aren’t you the smart little thing?” She considered this. “Well, we have to find another prayer. You could recite one of the Psalms, they’re pretty. You like most of them. And you read them very well for your age.”

  “I’ll do a Psalm.”

  “What about Leroy?”

  “He’s afraid to talk to Aunt Wheezie since she’s gotten so . . . you know.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She reached for my hand again. “You’ve kept this to yourself all this time? Every night you say that prayer. That’s a long time, half a year, to do something you don’t like.” She dropped my hand, looking out over the Bay. “Funny, Nickel, sometimes I wish I had your discipline. You came into the world with it. I struggle with it.”

  “You work hard.” I equated work with discipline.

  “Root ho
g or die.” She laughed. “I mean you can control your feelings. Pretty much what’s inside comes outside for me. Louise, too, although she can hang on longer than I can.” She looked over at her sister again. “Now she’s building a sand castle with Leroy. Those two are a lot alike in some ways. Artistic.” She turned back, casting her eyes over the seemingly infinite expanse of water. “The Bay has magical powers. The Indians who lived here thought so. There’s no other place like this in the world. It’s fed by God knows how many streams and small rivers, which then flow into the five main ones. Know what they are?”

  “The Potomac, uh, the James.” I was stuck.

  She filled in, “The York, the Rappahannock, and the Susquehanna. Someday when you’re grown, think about today. I bet you have a car then and you can drive here and feel the magic all over again. Spirits guard the waters. I swear it’s true but don’t say anything to Louise. She’ll think it’s blasphemous. Maybe it is but I believe in spirits and in angels and in devils.” She pushed water at me. “I’m looking at a little devil right now.”

  “Not me.”

  “Right.” She reached for my hand. “Come on, kid, let’s go up and help build the sand castle or she’ll get her nose out of joint.”

  “Aunt Wheezie doesn’t like the water?”

  “She likes the water fine, she just doesn’t want to get her hair wet.”

  “Oh.” Mine was slicked back wet. “Can I get a flattop like Leroy’s? Then I won’t have to comb my hair.”

  “No.”

  “I’d have more time to do the dishes and chores. Think how much time I waste combing my hair.”

  She laughed. “You’re going to grow up to be a politician.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “No, but it runs in the family. It helps if you can talk out of both sides of your mouth at the same time.”

  Taking this literally, I tried, and this made her laugh harder.

  “Can’t do it.”

  “Don’t worry about it now.” She squeezed my hand and we dripped our way up to the others. We toweled off, careful not to sprinkle one drop onto Louise’s blanket.

  The thick outer walls of the sand castle loomed up, squared off. Louise fretted over the towers at the corners. Her skill and the speed at which she worked amazed me. Leroy mixed sand and water in a bucket to the correct consistency.