Castles in the Sand (29 page)

Susan had told them about Drake’s announcement during the service, how he hadn’t asked directly for prayer for Kenzie. Pepper thought for the zillionth time how the poor girl didn’t stand a chance.

Susan said, “Well, I guess you could say that. There are several in the congregation who…” Her voice trailed off.

Pepper cringed.
Come on, Susan, don’t clam up on your daughter now
.

“Several who what, Mom? You said nobody else knew about me being pregnant except Aunt Nattie and Uncle Rex. Not until you told the Marthas last week.”

“That’s true. This part isn’t about you. I just learned there are others, not the Marthas, who have been…grumbling for a while…about other stuff.” She paused. “They think your dad has changed since he first started pastoring at Holy Cross, especially within the past year or so.”

“Surprise, surprise. I could have told them that. And it started before last year.” She continued snapping pieces off the cookie, never taking a bite. Crumbs piled up on her plate.

Susan said, “Kenzie, when did it start? In your opinion?”

She shrugged a shoulder.

Susan gave her a moment, but she uttered no reply. She rephrased the question. “What was the last
good
time you remember having with him?”

Silence prevailed. From Kenzie’s rapid blinking, Pepper deduced she needn’t think long and hard to recall the last good time. The girl had visited the memory before.

Finally she said, “It was here in August the year I was twelve. Aunt Nattie and Uncle Rex and the boys were staying at that other beach house down a ways, and we came to spend a day with them. Dad and I worked on a huge sand castle all afternoon.” She glanced up with a tiny smile. “He wouldn’t even let my bratty cousins smash it.” After a moment, she went on. “The next thing I remember was being thirteen and singing a duet with you in church, Mom.”

“On Mother’s Day the following May.”

Kenzie nodded.

Pepper opened her mouth but quickly shut it.

Evidently Susan intuited her unasked question. “He didn’t care for our selection. It was an upbeat version of a hymn. Kenzie arranged it. She’s always been incredibly gifted. Do you remember it, honey?”

Kenzie scowled.

Susan cleared her throat and then began to sing. “‘For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth over and around us lies, Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.’”

Goosebumps prickled Pepper’s arms. “Your voice is incredible!”

Susan smiled. “Thanks. That was how we sang the first verse. Then we started snapping our fingers.” She demonstrated. “And the pianist joined in. Ta-da boom. Ta-da boom. Second verse. ‘For the wonder of each hour of the day and of the night—’”

“Hold it! Hold it!” Kenzie raised her hand in a stop gesture. “No, no, no. That’s not it. Wait a sec. Let me think.” She hummed and snapped and bobbed her head. “Okay. Try this. ‘For the wonder of each hour of the day and of the night, hill and vale and tree and flower, sun and moon and stars of light, Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.’”

The voice of an angel.

“‘For the joy,’” the angel’s mother joined in, “‘of human love, brother, sister, parent, child.’”

Their voices wove in and out of each other’s, complementing, enriching. They finished with a cascade of “amens” and some passersby cheered. Pepper felt transported to another time and place. Words were inadequate to express her reaction.

Kenzie stood up and bowed toward the applause.

Susan grinned. “Yes, that was it.”

The girl sat back down, her smile fading quickly.

“Sweetheart,” her mother said, “I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you that day. I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t. Like I said before, I hope you’ll forgive me, in time, for your own sake. And I hope you’ll forgive your father too.”

“It was like he smashed every sand castle I ever made,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Kenzie sniffed a few times. “Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a slumber party for fun.”

“It is!” Susan smiled and handed her a napkin. “That’s why I invited Pepper. She’s very good at spicing things up, don’t you think?”

Mother and daughter turned to her expectantly.

Pepper grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her face. Who needed salt or pepper? The Starr women were more than enough spice for any party.

Natalie figured she’d lined up all her ducks in a perfect row. Slumber party accoutrements were loaded in the car: a portable combination television-VCR and a batch of sappy chick flicks. Carpool duties fell to another mom; her boys had a ride home from baseball practice. The high school girls soccer team she coached had finished practice early. A pasta casserole was in the oven, a favorite dinner of all three of her guys. And—most important—Rex had accepted his role in the boycott. He promised to have a heart-to-heart with his brother soon.

In the kitchen she grabbed car keys from a dish and threw her arms around her husband. “You are such a man about this, Rexton Starr.”

Smiling, he hooked his arms around her waist. “In a good way this time?”

“Mm-hmm, definitely.”

“Why? Because I agree with your wacky idea?”

“Yep. Not every guy is man enough to say his wife is right.”

He kissed her soundly on the lips. “Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks.”

The doorbell rang. She hesitated a split second before following him into the living room. It was time for her to go. But someone was at the door.

Rex pulled it open and there stood Drake. The word
apoplectic
came to mind. His face was beet red and his breathing loud and irregular.

Natalie could have sworn she heard wings flap as every single one of her ducks flew away.

She really didn’t want to be there.

Rex pulled his brother inside. “Drake, what’s wrong? Come in and sit down. Nat, get some water.”

While Rex steered him toward the couch, she went back into the kitchen. Filling a glass with water, she longingly eyed the door that led to the garage and her packed car. Obviously Rex could have his talk right now. She would only be in the way. Drake seldom took her seriously. The wise thing to do was skedaddle. Her keys were still in her hand.

The same hand holding on to the faucet.

“Ick.” She and her family never drank tap water, but there she was, ready to offer it up to her brother-in-law.

She flipped off the faucet, dumped the glassful down the sink, and refilled it with water from the bottled gallon in the fridge. How in the world could she totally bypass such an ingrained habit? Was she that strung out over the situation? That ticked off?

That angry at Drake?

The truth was, she didn’t take him seriously either. Deep down she considered him a joke. He could teach well, and he did offer unique biblical insights, but ages before news of Kenzie’s pregnancy, Natalie blamed him for Susan’s inability to express her own opinion about anything under the sun. If she thought long and hard enough about it, she could probably blame him for all manner of ills, from her team’s current losing streak to Southern California drought conditions.

She groaned.
Oh, Lord. Are we having a conversation?

Of course He and she were.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I don’t take him seriously. I treat him as disrespectfully as I perceive he treats me. Not exactly the spirit of Your golden rule. I suppose I should do something about this?”

She pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply, her best attempt at listening. Susan was not the problem. Kenzie was not the problem. Drake was the problem—or Natalie herself was.

He’s just like my dad. Always insists on being king of the hill. At least my dad had the decency to leave us alone
.

The pain cut through her chest, almost as sharp as a real knife slicing through it.

Her father left the family when she was fourteen, never to be heard from again. He fell off the face of the earth and none too soon. She’d wished for years that he would disappear. After he was gone, peace filled their home and they all laughed again, she, her two sisters, and their mom, who made a solid living as a teacher.

But…there was always a hole. Even with God’s healing touch on her heart, some hurt remained when she let it surface.

She whispered, “And I resent Drake for hurting Susan and Kenzie.”

You need to let it go. Your resentment is not going to fix anything. You need to forgive both of them, Drake and your dad
.

“I can’t.”

But Jesus could. He already had.

“I don’t want to. They don’t deserve…”

Oh, as though she deserved forgiveness?

Natalie wiped tears from her eyes. What was going on? All she wanted was to leave and have a fun night off with Susan and Kenzie and Pepper. All she wanted was for Rex to explain things to Drake in her absence.

But Drake came while she was at home, and now she held a cup of cold water in her hand. The right thing to do was to give it to the guy.

In Jesus’ name.

“It’s all your wife’s fault.”

At Drake’s words, Natalie slowed her entry into the living room.

Rex said in his firmest attorney voice, “It is not her fault, and I refuse to listen to you talk like that, so knock it off.”

Go, Rex!
She walked over to the couch where the men sat and held the glass out to Drake.

“I don’t want your water.”

Rex took it from her. “For crying out loud, Drake, stop acting like a whiny brat and drink some.” He said to her, “He got wind of the Good Friday plans already.”

Not sure yet if she trusted herself to speak in any sort of gracious manner, she gave him a silent questioning stare and sat on the edge of a chair.

He mouthed a board member’s name. No surprise. The Martha Mavens expected word would get out to people who didn’t agree with their tactics. Natalie only wished it had taken a little longer.

Drake gulped down half the water and glowered at her. “If you hadn’t insisted on Susan going to the beach house in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

Rex said, “Hold it right there. You’ve brought this on yourself, Drake. People are grumbling about you and have been for some time.”

“That’s unavoidable considering the size of my church.”

“
Your
church?”

Drake never chewed gum, but his jaw worked as if he’d popped in a piece. Finally words came. “You know what I mean.”

“I think you mean
your
church. And that’s the problem. You’re so caught up in appearances, you’re losing sight of the good work God is doing there—through you. He is using you, but you seem to be pointing more to yourself than to Him.”

“How do I do that?” His tone scoffed.

“You don’t let your heart show anymore.” Rex’s voice went soft. “I remember when Kenzie was the apple of your eye and you did a series of sermons about how God taught you lessons through her. This past Sunday, when you had the opportunity to reveal your broken heart and ask for prayer for her, you didn’t even mention her name. Not once.”

Wow. Rex was not following in the least Natalie’s suggested tactics.

He went on. “You can make all the excuses you want, Drake, but you’re pushing your family and your congregation away. You’re keeping them at arm’s length when they desperately need a leader who is real, one who’s been where they are and isn’t afraid to show his pain.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He could be so incredibly diplomatic. “The boycott is simply about a small group of women who are mad at you because—Because why?”

“Because they don’t understand how it’s necessary to express love by shunning one who continues to engage in a sin.”

“Hmm.” Rex leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Or—just thinking out loud here—perhaps they do understand all that. Which is why they’ve decided to shun one of your services, to express their love for you.” He paused.

“That’s a bunch of baloney. What sin is it I’m supposedly continuing to engage in?”

“Pride.”

He barked a laugh and cast a glare at Natalie. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody,” Rex said. “Nobody had to. I see it when you don’t reveal yourself from the pulpit. I see it when ten families leave the church in two months and not one new one joins. I see it in boycott plans made because a bunch of men and women, not just the Martha Mavens, love you. Drake.” Rex reached over and grasped his brother’s arm. “Get off your high horse. You look like you did your senior year of basketball when Coach benched you time and again for refusing to pass the ball.”

Drake stood abruptly. “You always did see things differently.”

“But I came over to your side.”

He frowned.

“Or God’s side, I should say. Who do you think faithfully showed me the way all those years I was running from Him? Who besides Faith Fontaine and my wife prayed me through my recovery after the accident? That’s the brother I want back. And if it takes a boycott to pull him out from behind his mask, well, I guess you won’t see me Friday night.”

Without a word, Drake strode to the door, yanked it open, and left.