Chapter 13
I woke the next morning to the blare of cartoons on the television, the scream of “Mine!” from a child, the clatter of a spill of Legos, Hazel Marie announcing that breakfast was ready, and Binkie saying, “Let’s all be real quiet so people can sleep.” Too late for that.
I turned to see Sam awake, staring at the ceiling. So I said, “This is what we wanted, isn’t it?” We smiled at each other, agreeing that indeed it was.
At the rumble of male voices in the center room, I stirred and said, “I should get up and help with breakfast.”
“Oh, let’s take our time and let the kitchen clear out.” And that’s what we did, emerging some while later to find Coleman filling the dishwasher. He’d already cleared the table and the island, working as efficiently as if he did it every day, which he probably did.
I had put on one of the outfits that Hazel Marie had chosen for me—a loose top and what she’d called capris that bared my legs from below my knees to my purple-tipped toes. Highly self-conscious from being so unusually clad, the worst was being without stockings. The stark nakedness of my bare, white shins and feet seemed to glow, and, for the first time, I could see the benefit of basking in the sun. If I could find a way to put the rest of myself in the shade, I determined to let the sun have its way with my lower limbs. Perhaps then they would at least look clothed.
The whole crew gradually collected in the living room, some carrying beach towels, some with sun hats, others with buckets and shovels for the children, some with bottles of suntan lotion, Coleman with a Styrofoam container filled with snacks and drinks, and every last one of them in various stages of dress. Or rather, undress. I declare, bare male chests seemed much larger than they did when shirt covered. I tried not to look—staring is so rude—at all the uncovered skin, male and female alike. Binkie and Hazel Marie were showing uncommonly wide expanses of it.
Sam, I have to say, held up well when compared to the younger men. Not that I was comparing, but when three half-naked men are right in front of one’s eyes, well, one can hardly help but size them up.
The children, also clad in the briefest of clothing, could hardly contain themselves, so eager were they to get to the beach. Mr. Pickens snatched up the twins, their little ruffle-clad bottoms tucked under his arms. Yelling up two flights of stairs, he called, “Lloyd! Come on, bud! I’m surrounded by women down here.”
“I think we’ve got everything,” Hazel Marie said, calmly looking around. “Miss Julia, are you and Mr. Sam coming?”
We were still sitting on stools at the island finishing our second cups of coffee. “I’ll walk down in a little while,” I said. “I want to check on LuAnne first.”
“Coleman?” Sam said, getting his attention. “There’s supposed to be a couple of large unbrellas downstairs if you want them.”
“Oh, we do,” Binkie said. “They’ll be shade for the children. I don’t want anybody getting sunburned on the first day.”
Latisha had been noticeably quiet, although she’d been milling around with the children as they waited for their minders to unlatch the screen door. Somebody had given her a bright blue bucket which she was holding close as she glanced several times out toward the ocean—with, I thought, anticipation but perhaps with a little apprehension, as well.
“Latisha,” I said, motioning for her to walk over to me. “Are you looking forward to going in the ocean, honey? It’ll be a lot of fun.”
“No, ma’am, not for me it won’t,” she said as seriously as I’d ever seen her. “They’s things in that ocean that I don’t wanta see. I might wade a little bit, but Miss Hazel Marie told me that that ole beach is just covered with shells, so I’m gonna get me some. She wants some, too, so we might look for ’em together.”
“What a good idea! When I come down, I’ll help, too. We can walk down the beach picking up shells and putting them in your bucket. Then when we come back to the house, we’ll call your great-granny and see how she’s doing.”
“Okay, ’cause I could use some help. I’m plannin’ to take me home a whole bunch of shells so Great-Granny can have some souvenirs of my beach trip.”
Mr. Pickens looked around and began counting heads. “Okay, everybody, let’s go. Stay together now.”
And off they went with Lloyd bringing up the rear. He’d raced down the stairs at the last minute, waved at Sam and me, and headed out.
“Oh, Sam,” I said as we watched them walk in a line over the dunes, Coleman and Mr. Pickens carrying the little ones, “I wonder if Lillian’s surgery is over. I’ve a good mind to call her. You think she’ll be home?”
Sam looked at his watch. “She’s probably still in Day Surgery. I’d wait till after lunch. She’ll be home by then.”
I nodded, feeling that I should’ve been with her, but now that our multifamily vacation seemed to have gotten off to such a good start, I was also glad to be where I was. Everybody was in a happy, expectant mood, patient with the children, helpful with each other, and glad to be there. Then I remembered LuAnne.
Sliding off the stool, I said, “Let’s go to the beach, Sam. I want to go before the sun gets too high.”
“You want to see if LuAnne wants to go?”
I shook my head. “No, if she can sleep with all the noise we’ve made this morning, she probably needs it. Besides, I don’t want to hover. I told her before we left home that everybody was on their own, doing whatever they want to do.”
“Let’s go then. Don’t forget your sunglasses—you’ll need ’em.”
I must say that the beach was glorious, its white sand stretching from north to south as far as the eye could see, the waves breaking in a rush of whitecaps close to the shore, suntanned bodies dotted here and there, and the breeze playing havoc with my hair.
We found Hazel Marie and the little ones clustered under the open umbrellas, while Binkie and Coleman were out beyond the breakers. I saw two more familiar heads bobbing up and down with the waves—Mr. Pickens and Lloyd. Latisha was crouched down a safe distance from the encroaching waves, searching, I supposed, for shells.
“I’m going in with J.D. when they get back,” Hazel Marie said. She brushed sand off Julie’s back, then stuck a tiny shovel in her hand, saying, “See what you can dig up.”
While Sam headed out into the ocean, I sat down in the shade and looked toward the sea. “Hazel Marie, are they too far out?”
She looked up, squinting in the glare off the water as she shaded her eyes with her hand. “No, J.D. said the tide’s coming in so it’s shallow for a long way out.”
I took off my sandals, stuck my feet with their purple toenails out in the sun, and commented on the view. “Those waves look awfully big way out there.”
“Yes,” Hazel Marie said, “they’re big, rolling ones, aren’t they? J.D. says it’s because there’s a tropical storm down south.”
“A storm? You mean a hurricane?”
“Could be, but it’s a long way off. He says it’d have to pick up a lot of steam to reach us while we’re here.”
“Well, a storm anywhere is certainly worrisome,” I said, somewhat disturbed by the thought. “Sam promised to check the Weather Channel every day, and he’s not said a word about it.”
Hazel Marie smiled. “Probably because it’s not a threat to us.”
“Not yet, anyway,” I mumbled, then rose with some effort. “I think I’ll take a walk with Latisha.”
Latisha was eager for a change of scene. “I’ve already picked this place clean,” she said, rattling the shells in her bucket. “I thought there’d be piles of shells everywhere, but, my gracious, you have to look for ’em. An’ they’re all tee-ninesy little ones. It’ll take a million to do what I want to do.”
Deciding it was better not to ask what she wanted to do, I took her hand and we began walking along the edge of the water, splashing through the foam as the waves came in. Latisha, saying that she needed her some sunglasses, pounced on every shell she saw. It didn’t seem to matter what size, shape, or condition they were in, she picked up every one she saw. Her bucket was already more than half full.
“What’re you going to do when you fill your bucket?” I asked, watching as she put another shell in it.
“I been thinkin’ about that, an’ I’m gonna empty this thing in a grocery sack every day, then come back down here and fill ’er up again.”
“Good thinking,” I said, smiling at her enthusiasm and relieved that it didn’t extend to going in the water. “Well, let’s turn back. It’ll be time for lunch soon.”
“That’s what I’m countin’ on,” she said.
And by that time, I realized, so was I.