The Beach House (34 page)

As the morning’s gray cloud cover receded, so did Andie’s anxieties. She breathed in the moist salty air and watched a surfer catch a wave.

“So far so good. I have made it to the motel.”

Molly’s words came to mind.
You know He’s closer to us than the air we breathe
.

She smiled. “Thank You, Lord. Thank You that I am not alone.”

A short while ago she had awakened in Julian’s upstairs apartment, surprisingly refreshed for falling asleep in a strange place with images of her husband and good friend kissing in a drunken embrace.

Refreshed but shaky, she gathered every bit of faith and courage she could muster and dressed for the day in her new spunky apricot outfit. She packed the pretty sandals in the large overnight bag and laced up her sensible tan oxfords. Char would never approve of the fashion statement, but the motel was a good hike from Julian’s.

With trepidation she went down the outdoor staircase to Julian’s door. He refused again to accept money for the overnight use of his place. For a few moments she basked in his fatherly attention. He wished her a good second, independent fortieth celebration. Standing beside him she felt an inpouring of hope that she would not spend the next twenty-four hours curled in a fetal position.

Not ready to speak to her friends, she had taken the back route and ran into Char behind the beach house. In spite of her crisp just-so clothing and stylish hairdo that was attractive even wet, Char looked a mess.

Andie remembered her the previous night, gaily going off with Todd, and something zapped her heart. In the blink of an eye her emotions solidified into an ugly chunk of grim satisfaction. So. Little Miss Georgia Peach suffered right along with the rest of them. Aw. Poor thing.

Andie spoke like a smart aleck to one of her oldest friends. Walking away she was struck with a new thought. Her remarks were a smoke screen. They hid a pain she wanted to avoid. That pain was rooted in Paul, of course. In his infidelity. But it was also rooted in a dark suspicion about Char, something Andie let remain unacknowledged for twenty years.

Suddenly she understood the entire week was about her confronting something much more important than her daily fears. It was about addressing the pain. Time was running out.

And so she had spun around and asked Char point blank if she’d slept with Paul. Char’s horrified reaction melted Andie’s distrust of her old friend on the spot.

The exchange doused her with courage. Overwhelmed, she had no words to explain things to herself, let alone to Char. She turned away again. The new courage spurred her on down the alley and on to the motel office two hours early to ask if her room was available.

She smiled again at the ocean.

Point-blank. That was how her day had begun. That was how she wanted to finish it. That was how she wanted to fill every moment in between.

Point-blank. Maybe it could become a habit.

Andie stood at a busy intersection, long purse strap crisscrossed over her shoulders, sunglasses and visor in place. She studied a pamphlet, trying to decipher bus routes.

San Diego was a huge place.

Andrea
. It was Paul’s belittling voice.
That outfit doesn’t exactly flatter you. Maybe it’s the color. Or the style. And what are you doing standing on the street corner waiting for a bus? Go rent a car, for crying out loud. People will think one of Madison’s top real estate agents is a cheapskate if they see his wife on a bus. You’re not really going to attempt to go through that silly list
—

“Hey, sister!”

She looked up to see Zeke, the wiry Rastafarian-looking street pastor. He approached the bus stop. She smiled. How could she not? His grin split his face in two. Dreadlocks sprouted every direction in such a carefree way. She wished her boys could meet him.

Julian had introduced Andie to him on their way to boogie board. She saw him again another morning on the boardwalk, and they’d chatted a while. He absolutely glowed with joy, the type, she figured, not of this world.

“Hi, Zeke.” she said.

He stopped and shook her hand. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. Except I can’t figure out which bus to take.”

“Where you headed?” He took the pamphlet from her.

Paul’s voice murmured in her mind, casting doubt on her plans. She thought of the paper in her pocket. Earlier, while sitting in a café eating an omelet she wrote a list of things that scared her. Instead of seeing it as a list of fears, though, she titled it “Andie’s Adventure List.”

The first item was to eat breakfast alone in a restaurant. That one was checked off. Number two read
Explore an area of San Diego I can’t walk to; take a bus to get there
. The “there” was what she had planned to do with her friends on her special day.

On second thought, she could change her plans. Do something easier. Jo wouldn’t mind driving her and the others there sometime during the next two days.

See, Andrea? You’re being sensible. You don’t have to go chasing off
—

Take a hike, Paul. I boogie board in the ocean
.

She smiled at that thought and said out loud in a determined voice, “I want to go to the Museum of Art in Balboa Park.”

Zeke didn’t laugh or look at her as though she were nuts. He simply studied the schedule. “Well, sister, I do believe we are taking the same bus. You’ll have to transfer before I do, but I’d be glad to show you.”

“You would?” Relief flooded her. “Thanks. Where are you going?”

“Home.” He gave the pamphlet back to her. “Time for a little sleep. Been up all night. Let me tell you, it was some dark night here at the beach. I’m talking spiritual realm. The evil one was busy. Here’s our ride now, sister.”

The bus ground to a halt near them, and they boarded it.

Andie wondered at Zeke’s words. He was in tune with more than she wanted to know, but she sensed a connection with what he said. Evil touched good things. Things like her marriage. Like her friendship with Jo, Char, and Molly.

They sat down together and she asked, “You don’t live around here?”

He chuckled. “My Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills, but ain’t no way I can pay rent in this neighborhood. He provides plenty for me, don’t get me wrong. He got me a nice little apartment and a solid job. I work at a convenience store, mostly third shift. Last night I was off, so I spent it down here where the real work is done.”

“Do you live near family?”

“Yes, I do. Mama, two brothers, two sisters, their spouses, bunch of nieces and nephews.”

Andie guessed from his unlined face that he was younger than her, but not by much. There was a depth to him that added years. “You’re not married?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Got me a girlfriend, though. Maybe even fiancée. We shall see. Most women don’t want nothing to do with the way I live. First ’cuz I was so messed up, now ’cuz I’m always off doing Bible studies and some such. But, Lilly, now she’s different. You haven’t met her yet?”

“No.”

“Oh, she’s pretty. She comes with me sometimes to the beach.”

“Why do you come here if it’s not close to home?”

He grinned. “That’s what my mama always asks. She says I ought to preach on my own street. But the Lord brings me here. Back before He got hold of me, I sort of lived in this neighborhood at one time. You seen all the homeless folk?”

She nodded.

“That was me, sister. Down-and-out without a hope in the world. Then my friend met Jesus and he told me, and then I met Jesus. Amen. The fellowship grows and grows, but not everyone knows Him yet. And there’s a heap of sorrow here. Lot of ways I can help since I know from my own experience what it’s like for these lost sheep.”

“That makes—” She shook her head. She almost said it made sense that he traveled to preach on a beach, but in all honesty it did not make sense. “Zeke, I can’t relate to your lifestyle.”

“’Course not. You’re called to something else. What do you do?”

“I’m a wife, a mom with two teenage sons, and a reflexologist.”

“Say what? Reflex-what? I never heard of that.”

She explained her work to him.

He nodded. “See, that’s where you’re called. You heal people right there in your own neighborhood.”

“But my husband doesn’t want me to.” She unintentionally blurted the words. Thinking of how she loved her work reminded her of Paul’s incessant complaints about her job. She might as well admit that there was no way he would ever permit her to open an office in their house. What a pipe dream she’d been engaged in!

Zeke said, “You mean he doesn’t want you to heal others?”

“He doesn’t really consider it healing or even helping people all that much.”

“How come? Don’t you do that stuff to his feet?”

“No. He has sensitive feet. He says it hurts too much.”

“Mm-mm. I am sorry to hear he doesn’t support what you do.”

Me too
.

“A husband and wife need to support one another.” He shook his head. “Could be the Lord has some other kind of ministry planned for you. Just keep looking up, sister. Just keep looking up. You mind if I pray?”

Andie smiled. One thing she was sure of that day was that she could use all the prayer she could get.

Ancient religious paintings of every shape and size filled the walls in a large, high-ceilinged room of the San Diego Museum of Art. The only sound came from the echoed footfalls and hushed voices of the handful of other visitors.

Andie sat alone on a marble bench and studied a spotlighted canvas before her. It was good-sized, probably six by eight feet, but not the largest in the room. It was not exotic the way some of them were. There was no gruesome depiction of Jesus bleeding on the cross or of saints battling with grotesque demons. What had captured her attention the moment she entered the room was its gentle portrait of human nature. The note read
Virgin and Child with Saint John, Attributed to the Italian school, Fifteenth Century
.

Baby Jesus, perhaps five months old, sat on His mother’s lap. John, a toddler, leaned against her, holding his hand out to Jesus, showing Him a small bluebird he held. The children were chubby and rosy-cheeked, real in appearance without the usual halos. She wondered at the family relationship. Presumably Mary and John’s mother, Elizabeth, were kinfolk. Cousins perhaps? How heartwarming the thought that perhaps the boys had played together as children!

Andie longed to hold her own sons again at those ages. Overcome with a sense of missing them, she had sat down on the bench. She remained glued to the seat because an intense feeling of connectedness with Mary had taken hold of her imagination. Mother to mother, woman to woman.

“It is quite emotional, isn’t it?”

Andie jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see a woman sitting beside her.

“Oh, I am sorry,” the elderly woman said. “I startled you. And probably ruined your concentration as well.” Her hair was white and wispy, her face as downy soft in appearance as the ones in the painting.

“No, you didn’t—” Andie caught the woman’s knowing smile and returned it. “Well, yes, you did ruin it, but that’s all right.”

“It was just that your rapturous expression spoke so clearly, I thought we were already having a conversation!”