Castles in the Sand Page 17

  Thirty-Nine

  Susan stood at the dining room table, flicked on the long-necked lighter, and held its flame to the first of four yellow tapers in tall crystal holders.

  Next to her, already seated, Drake said, “I can’t remember the last time we ate in here without guests.”

  “Neither can I. The kitchen is so practical, but I thought we could use a change.” She finished lighting the candles and surveyed the setting. Glossy oak wood reflected candlelight. Bone china with its silver and pale yellow primrose design. Polished silver. A simple quiche, green salad, French bread, and sparkling white grape juice in crystal goblets. “There. An intimate dinner for two at a table that seats twelve. What do you think?”

  “It works. Very romantic.”

  She walked around the table and sat across from him, surprised to see yet another smile on his face. Since her outburst at the beach house that afternoon, he had been extraordinarily attentive. If it weren’t a Saturday night, he said he would have stayed there. She agreed, though, that their Sunday morning routine would needlessly be complicated and agreed to go home as well.

  Drake stretched his long arm over the wide table, and she placed hers in it while he said the blessing. After a quick squeeze, they let go.

  “This looks scrumptious, Susan. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for rearranging Saturday night’s routine.” Usually they ate at seven and then he disappeared in his study for the remainder of the evening to finish preparations on the next day’s message.

  He nodded. “I guess I thought we needed a change too.”

  Through her eyelashes, Susan watched him eat. He really was a handsome man. Articulate and charming. No wonder she had fallen for him.

  “Drake, I was just wondering why in the world you chose me, shy little Susie Anderson.”

  He looked up, his fork midair. “You’re not serious?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You’re so…so. Oh, I don’t know. You have this bold presence about you. Even in college you had it. You were made to lead a congregation. You come from a solid, upper-class family. By comparison I’m a wallflower who still can’t believe she has a hutch full of nice china and crystal.”

  His smoke gray eyes twinkled. “Susan, God brought us together. We clicked from the beginning, didn’t we? When I met you, I knew I’d met the perfect helpmate. The potential was obvious. Besides that, you were the prettiest girl on the campus.”

  His words echoed down the years from sermons he had given, using them as an example of a happily married couple.

  She caught a tear at the corner of an eye with her little finger. She didn’t remember ever hearing such things directly. “Have I reached that potential?”

  “Of course. Not that either of us are perfectly there yet, but I couldn’t ask for more in a wife.” He winked. “Except maybe that she doesn’t drift on down to the beach too often.”

  Did he have to add that?

  “Just kidding. I understand.” He smiled. “This quiche is really good.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments. She thought about how much information she’d accumulated over the past two decades on the topic of marriage. It did not come from her parents because her father died when she was eight and her mother never remarried. Growing up with her mom, widowed grandmother, and unmarried great-aunt, she seldom witnessed the institution up close. Most of her girlfriend’s mothers belittled their husbands, and she understood why. The ones she met scared her to death.

  Her knowledge of marriage came from Bible college courses and late-night dorm discussions. It came from women’s Bible studies and conferences. It came from sermons—and not just Drake’s—and how-to books. She was grateful for the plethora of good, practical advice that encouraged her to do her best, to work hard at fulfilling her end of the bargain.

  Somewhere along the way, Susan the Pretender employed Drake’s opinion as the ultimate sieve to filter it all.

  Somewhere in the past week or so, Susan the Joyful Bird had misplaced that sieve.

  “So,” he said, “why did you choose me?”

  Her elbows nearly thrust themselves out from her sides. With an effort she kept the wings folded and said with a straight face, “I knew eventually you could buy me china and crystal and a table that seats twelve.”

  He laughed. “Come on. Play fair. I gave you a serious answer.”

  “Okay.” She grinned. “You noticed me. You made me feel special. No one had ever made me feel so incredibly good about myself.”

  “I…” He set down his fork and pressed a napkin to his lips. “I didn’t know that.”

  “How could I say such a thing to you? It might break the spell.”

  “And now? Do I still make you feel special?”

  No. The exact opposite more often than not.

  She shrugged and reworded her response. “Sometimes.”

  “Because maybe life gets in the way?”

  She shrugged again.

  “I should work on that.”

  “Me too. As far as filling my potential, I mean.” She wondered about that sieve. “I was just thinking about all the information I’ve heard and read through the years about marriage. There’s one thing I never really understood until now. It’s that expression ‘Love is a verb.’”

  “It’s not a feeling, though hopefully that comes as part of it.”

  “I always felt that I loved you. But…I am mad at you about Kenzie and I don’t feel it anymore.”

  He set down his fork again.

  She smiled. “You’re never going to finish dinner.”

  “You just said…” He fairly sputtered.

  “I said I don’t feel love anymore. So I thought I’d try the verb thing. I left the beach house and went to the grocery store. By the way, do you consider shopping for food an act of love?”

  “Well, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  “Ha-ha. Like a woman wouldn’t feel loved if every meal weren’t set before her and all she had to do was pick up a fork.”

  “You sound a little sensitive.”

  “Come on. Think about it.”

  “All right. Point taken. Grocery shopping is an act of love.”

  “I thought so too. Anyway, then I cooked dinner, I baked your favorite apple pie, I put on this black dress that’s too short to wear in public. I prayed God would bless our evening and help you finish early. And I’ve been kissing you every chance I get.”

  He rubbed a hand across his eyes. A gesture of discomfort?

  “Did you notice?”

  He slid his hand down his jaw and nodded.

  “It’s like magic! Though I’m sure it’s the Holy Spirit instead.” She grinned and let her elbows bounce a little. “It works.”

  “You mean the feeling is back?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Well.” He sat back and cocked his head, studying her. “Well.”

  She smiled. “Well, well yourself.”

  “Your potential just grew by leaps and bounds. Maybe you should write a sermon on marriage.”

  “I have something else in mind. Did I mention you were the most handsome guy on campus?” She laughed. “Now that’s what I call a rakish grin on your face, Pastor Drake.”

  He chuckled. “You didn’t say what else it is you have in mind.”

  “I think you know.” She smiled. “First, though, comes the apple pie dessert.”

  Sunday morning Drake leaned back against the kitchen counter and sipped orange juice, the epitome of nonchalance. “I wonder how I can use last night as a teaching point in a sermon.”

  Susan, cooking scrambled eggs at the stovetop, pointed the spatula at him. “That’s too much information.”

  He laughed. “Just seeing if you were paying attention.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But speaking of too much information, I think the, uh, miscarriage is in that category.”

  She turne
d off the burner and picked up the skillet. “I agree. Are you sure you don’t want any eggs?”

  “I’m sure, thanks.”

  She didn’t know if she wanted them now either. Her stomach twisted itself into a tight little ball.

  At the beach house the previous day, after she’d cried so hard, they’d discussed Kenzie and the situation. He decided he would tell the congregation today. Then they’d declared a moratorium on painful subjects and spent the evening making peace.

  It was time to decide on their joint posture. Drake would be leaving soon for church. He always left before she did.

  They sat at the kitchen table, in the early sunlight. He sipped juice and she raked a fork through her eggs.

  “The way I see it,” he said, “the miscarriage is for us to visit again in the future.”

  “Mm-hmm. I feel it’s incomplete. I want to name the baby and tell Kenzie.”

  “Let’s hold off on that one.”

  She mashed the eggs. Compromise. Compromise.

  “Now about Kenzie. Here’s what I have in mind. I’d like to have you stand up with me, before the offering.”

  “It’ll be an announcement, not part of the sermon?”

  “I couldn’t work it in on Palm Sunday. And it’s not exactly an announcement. More like a special prayer request. I know we do prayer requests earlier in the service, but I don’t want to just list this one with everything else. ‘Let’s pray for Edna’s gallbladder and the Starrs because their daughter is pregnant and unwed.’”

  “Drake, it’s more than that.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not just we’re hurting because our daughter has got herself in trouble. It’s more like ‘Help!’ What did we do wrong? What do we do now? How do we communicate love and forgiveness and not condone living outside God’s order? And it’s all about her and the baby and Aidan, about their welfare. Their poverty and their fears. It’s about I don’t want to lose my daughter and grandchild.”

  He touched her arm. “I know, Susan. But I can’t go into all that. The church is a public place with strangers in attendance every week. I want this to be a general announcement to our friends gathered together, just a straightforward ‘we need your prayers.’”

  “A lot of them have been here, in this position.”

  He nodded. “I’m counting on their empathy. Will you stand beside me then? I think this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Of course I’ll stand beside you. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  Forty

  Natalie leaned her shoulder against her husband’s and slipped her hand into his as they stood side by side in church. It was a large sanctuary, easily accommodating hundreds and hundreds. Its half-octagonal shape, far flung ceiling, and wide, fanlike array of pews gave it a contemporary style. There were traditional stained glass windows though, glorious now, with rays of the morning sun streaming through them.

  Palm Sunday always made her ache inside, nearly to the point of an upset stomach. The day was full of such hope. Music and Scripture readings and sermon recalled Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, palm branches lining the road in welcome, the people ecstatic about the possibility of Him bringing peace to their world.

  She always tried to forget what happened at the end of the week.

  Did He know all along what was coming?

  Rex gently pressed Natalie’s hand. He knew what she was feeling. Of course, he thought she was nuts, but he let her just be and didn’t hassle her.

  Lord, will You convince Drake to let Susan be without a hassle?

  The large, white-robed choir entered from the back of the church and strolled up the center aisle, singing and strewing palm branches donated by parishioners who had trees in their yards. There was Susan with the sopranos, in a too-large robe. Natalie wondered if she wore one of the hippie skirts underneath.

  “‘All glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King.’” Natalie raised her voice, which never could have been accepted into the choir no matter who pulled rank. “‘To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring. Thou art the King of Israel, Thou David’s royal Son, who in the Lord’s name comest, the King and Blessed One.’”

  As the service progressed, Natalie studied her sister-in-law seated in the choir pews up front, directly behind the pulpit. She could have sworn an ethereal light illumined her face.

  Before the offering was taken, Drake himself went through the announcements. Then he asked his wife to join him in the pulpit.

  Much as Natalie had been hoping for this moment, watching Rex’s brother prepare to expose his pain was excruciating. She might be able to tell a team of soccer players what she thought about regarding every subject under the sun, including her boys’ dumb antics, but not in a million years could she stand up and say she’d lost one of them because she refused to forgive them.

  Drake put his arm around Susan’s shoulders. “As many of you know, our daughter has always marched to the beat of a different drummer. She sees things differently. If I say something is white, she’ll insist it’s black.” He paused. “Vice versa as well.”

  Polite laughter rippled through the crowd.

  “My wife recently gave me an illustration of how she would administer medicine to our little girl on a spoon, but she often refused to swallow it. She’d hold it in her mouth and, when we weren’t looking, deposit it elsewhere. Of course a mother always finds out these things.” He smiled. “The point is, we can’t force our children to follow the example we’ve set before them.”

  Natalie’s breath caught. The example we’ve set? Which one would that be? Getting his girlfriend pregnant or pretending as though it never happened?

  Rex reached for her hand and held it tightly between his.

  At the podium, Susan blanched.

  Drake said, “Sometimes they choose to leave the fold, and we have to let them go.” He paused. “Our prodigal daughter is expecting a baby and she is not married. We cannot honor her choices.”

  A group inhalation sounded like helium spurting into some giant balloon.

  “We wanted to let you, our true family, know before this becomes an ugly rumor with unsubstantiated tales attached to it. We ask that you would pray for Susan and me. As you can imagine, this is a difficult time for us. Thank you for being patient. We may seem a little preoccupied.” His smile was the annoyingly self-deprecating one. “Probably because we are.”

  The air fluttered out of the balloon. The worst was over. People exchanged glances of sympathy and relief.

  Natalie argued in her mind with her brother-in-law. Prodigal? Prodigal! The prodigal son left home because he wanted to and he came back! Kenzie came back and was forced to leave and told not to come back!

  Susan said something to Drake. Her soft voice was inaudible to the audience. His lapel microphone was too far from her mouth to pick it up.

  He looked at her.

  She spoke again.

  Natalie read her lips. Something, something…pray for Kenzie. Or was that only her imagination?

  Drake gave his head a half shake and lowered his arm from her shoulders. “Well, I apologize for bringing in personal business on this glorious Sunday morning. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled program now.” He turned to Susan. “Thank you, honey. Ushers, will you come forward, please?”

  Natalie watched Susan move, a stiff-jointed wooden puppet, back to her place in the choir. The luminescence had vanished from her face.

  “Lord, not the straitjacket. Not again.”

  Rex squeezed Natalie’s hand and she turned. His eyes were wide and staring at her.

  Whoops. She must have spoken aloud.

  Susan rose now with the choir to sing the offeratory. She looked at Natalie. Across the church their eyes met. Natalie gazed, willing courage into her. Willing her to flap her wings.

  And then Susan did exactly that. She closed up her big black music book and stepped in front of the woman beside her, and the n
ext, and the next. Her route took her off the side of the platform, along the far windowless wall, and through a door leading to a hallway near the nursery.

  As the choir sang and the ushers began the passing of offering plates back and forth through the pews, Natalie caught sight of two white-haired women rise from the third row, left side. Mildred and Leona, the twins. Slowly they moved down the pew, excusing themselves to those they passed.

  Many women headed for the restroom before Drake started his sermon, but…?

  Natalie turned sideways and glimpsed the back of Gwyn as she strode through a rear exit. Near the center aisle in the last row Emmylou’s husband was helping her stand.

  Movement in a middle row, side aisle, drew Natalie’s attention. Tess.

  Tess?

  She marched toward the rear, her habitually composed features distorted in an obvious scowl, visible even at that distance.

  Natalie bent close to Rex’s ear. “I’m outta here.”

  He nodded.

  Natalie squeezed his knee as she stepped around him and into the center aisle…and onto those palm branches, symbolic of so much hope.

  Forty-One

  “I totally adore your family.” Kenzie turned to Aidan seated next to her at one of two long picnic tables in the Carlucci backyard.

  He laughed. “And they totally adore you.”

  “They adore everyone.”

  The midafternoon spring sun warmed the grassy area. Palm Sunday dinner was in full swing; rowdy family and friends squeezed together on the benches. Blocking views of neighbors on both sides and behind was a tall peeling gray wood fence in such desperate need of paint even Kenzie noticed. The plants at its base were either overgrown or dying of thirst. Susan would never allow people to see such a yard. Not that hers would ever deteriorate into that condition. Pepper only laughed and said she and Mick had better things to do. Like feed lasagna to thirty people.

  Kenzie said, “I can’t imagine growing up in this environment.”

  “Aw, Kenz.” Ignoring the hubbub around them, Aidan stopped eating and wrapped his arms around her.