It was Sunday. It was the South. And I was Jake’s child. Therefore, I went to church. Because there are some things Dad doesn’t take vacations from either. In fact, Dad is pretty much the most consistent individual I know. He doesn’t see vacations as much more than a change of scenery and the removal of a work schedule. But he still gets up at the same time. Still walks one companion and endures the other. Still reads his paper over breakfast. And still requires church attendance on Sunday.
The Seaside Interfaith Chapel was always a part of the Seaside vision but wasn’t realized until 2001. Before the chapel was built, Dad used to deliver a message to us in the living room of our rental. Now, Dad’s not bad at that, but even so, we were glad to move to the actual pews of the picturesque wooden-plank church that stands across from the Forest Street Park.
What is it about people who go on vacation and still go to church? Maybe it’s a Southern thing. Or maybe it’s the fear that hellfire and brimstone might seek you out on Monday if you sleep in on Sunday. Maybe it’s the family bonds that vacations seem to nurture.The relaxed atmosphere, the feeling of gratitude that needs a place to express itself. Or maybe it’s the soul’s innate need for communion with each other and with their Creator. Whatever it is,by nine forty-five, the sanctuary of Seaside Interfaith Chapel is pretty much full, and a few young men in their button-down shirts and khakis, carrying their Bibles, are still making their way up the brick streets.
“Does she know she’s on vacation?” Paige whispered in my ear as my mother descended the stairs like royalty.
“I would say, she’s rather understated.”
She scoffed.“In comparison to what?”
“To that.”Amber descended the staircase in rather regal attire herself. And a hat slightly larger than my mother’s.
They walked out the front door in front of us. Paige and I followed like Cinderellas in pre-prince fashion with sort-of-pressed skirts and complementary dressy T-shirts. The two beauties in front of us clip-clopped all the way to the church. Paige and I flip-flopped behind. It was vacation.
“Oh my Lord, have mercy—”
Paige cut me off. “Honey, we’re almost to the church, and you can praise Jesus all you want to there.”
“No, I just had a horrible thought.”
“Worse than the thought of the two of us continually entering places after the two of them?”
“Yes. What if Joshua is in there?”
Her eyebrows perked up.“Ooh, yes, that could be worse.”
“How is that worse?” Now I wanted to know.
“Well, he’ll be catching a glimpse of us after them.”
“They look that good, huh?”
“They always look that good.”
“Why don’t we dress up more?” I said, stopping Paige in the middle of the street.
She looked at me, and we both got our own selves tickled.
We let the two beauties enter first. We almost took seats outside in the overflow section of the grassy lawn, where we could listen to the message via the large speakers that flanked the doors of the church. But Dad assured us there was room enough inside.
We sat in our pews and would have used our bulletins to hide our faces in the event of a Joshua sighting. Unfortunately, someone had forgotten the bulletins at the printer. So I hid behind the two large hat heads seated next to me. If Joshua arrived, I hoped he’d never recognize the lovely attired group on pew eight.
The distinct sound of Florsheims and sandals on the dark hardwood floors caused me to look up. Two male voices, laughing as they entered, caused me to grab Paige’s arm.
“They’re twelve.” She patted my hand. “Mere babies. No worries.”
I squinted into the bright light coming through the front windows. The inside was almost as bright as the outside. I ran my hand over the back of the white painted pews.
“Looks like we dressed up after all,” Paige said as the blue-jeans-and-shorts family came inside.
We watched the parade of Florsheims and slip-ons. Sun-dresses and sunglasses. Hats and halters. Little girls in their little white dresses, a few of whom had forgotten to change out of their polka-dotted underwear.
I saw Lucy’s and Manuel’s heads a couple of rows in front of us. I watched them as she nestled against him. I couldn’t help but wonder what that was like. It had been so long. And even now, I couldn’t remember feeling the feelings that seemed to match what I saw in this couple. Or in my parents, for that matter.
I wondered what love would look like for me. I hadn’t really wondered that since Grant had walked down the aisle. But now, seeing something so real, I wondered if I had ever known real love at all.
As the song leader began to sing “No Other Name but the Name of Jesus,” I felt a pinch.
“Ow!” I cried involuntarily.
The people in front and beside eyed me.
“Don’t look now, but Prince Charming just entered,” Paige whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“Tell me you are not lying in the very house of God.”
“I may have moments of irreverence, but sister ain’t stupid. No, back five rows at the other end of the pew.”
“Whatever you do, do not look back.”
She turned around.“Okay, I’ll just use the eyes in the back of my head to give you a play-by-play.”
“If he sees us, this will be horrible. So sing,woman, just sing.”
The little towheaded girl in front of me with the polka-dotted panties looked over the back of her pew, inspecting my mother. Poor child probably hadn’t seen so many baubles since her great-grandmother Eugenia was buried in her entire jewelry collection.
The Scripture reading that morning was from Matthew 5, where Jesus is giving his longest recorded sermon, the Sermon on the Mount. And when the sweet lady got to the part that reads, “Blessed are those who mourn,” I heard a whimper come from Amber’s side of the pew.
But when the Doxology was delivered, by a woman who could hold her own on any opera stage in the world, even Jake’s eyes were misting. And by the time the pastor got up to deliver his sermon, every heart was ready. For a moment I forgot Joshua was there.
At the close of the service,we took communion. Before partaking, we were asked to examine our hearts for any impurity. I ran my hand across the painted arm of my pew, noticing the small chips in the paint where little fingers had probably picked at it over time. And I thought of all the things I needed forgiveness for. My quick temper with Amber. My abhorrence for Mother’s new dog. My hatred for the blonde stranger on the beach. My total aggravation for Curly Locks somewhere behind me. I was still rummaging through my trash when the time came to eat the bread.
After the benediction, I could have kissed Bill the usher when he stopped at our pew to greet my parents. He looks amazingly like Walter Cronkite, and if he’d interviewed them for an hour, I wouldn’t have given a hoot.
“He’s gone.” Paige informed.“You can breathe now.”
I exhaled. Loudly.
“We had over eight hundred Easter Sunday in the pouring rain,” Bill told Dad as they walked slowly to the door.
“That’s amazing. A long way from the thirty-five you started with,” Dad said.
“Sure is, Jake. A long way.Want to come with us to Bud and Alley’s for lunch?” My mouth salivated at the thought of the fabulous restaurant once touted by Vogue magazine as “favorite new restaurant in the world.”
“Appreciate the offer. But I’m gonna take these girls to the beach for the afternoon.”
Bill gave us a smile. “Well, enjoy yourself. Hope to see you again soon.”
Lucy and Manuel were at the back of the chapel as we prepared to exit.
“Good morning, Savannah.” Lucy’s ebony eyes caught my smile.
“Good morning, beautiful lady. Come meet my family.”
I introduced the Phillipses and our vagabonds. Lucy and Manuel were as welcoming as few people I’d met. Her arm was hooked gently through his, and every time he spoke, she watched him in unashamed admiration and affection.
As we headed out the door, Mother stated her evaluation. “She’s beautiful. Penelope Cruz exotic. You know, kind of like I’m Lauren Hutton exotic.”
“Oh! I see that, Mrs. Phillips,” Amber gushed. “I can really see that!”
Blind and delusional, I returned for my Bible, which I had left on the pew. As I stepped back into the aisle, I heard a sound coming from the altar. I saw no one but did notice the stucco-and-seashell cross on the altar table that sat directly in line with the front door. It made me think of the crosses I had had to bear throughout these last few months. My mother, returning home, the loss of a dream, the loss of the love of my life. Then I thought of the faces, bright with smiles, with peace, with contentment, that had come and gone through this same front door this morning. I found it hard to believe that anyone would need a cross or the walls of a sanctuary on vacation. But just in case, I guess it was a good idea it was all here. Just in case.