Find a Christian store

<< Go Back

The Sandcastle Sister

By Lisa Wingate

Order Now!

The baggage is exactly the problem. No matter how hard I try, I can’t
let go. I can’t make the commitment he’s asking for. I’ve backed myself
into a corner, and I don’t know how to get out.

"That’s your excuse? The Jane Austen tour? That’s all you’ve got?” He
says exactly what I thought he’d say. He’s joking, but he’s not. A twitch
of frustration tightens the muscles between his neck and jawbone. “Come
on, Jen.” He takes my hand, folds it between both of his on the table, so
that our fingers intertwine, flesh to flesh. “What’s really
going on here?”

His gaze pierces me through, searching for an explanation. He popped
the question in Florence a month ago, at the top of the campanile, as we
stood taking in the ancient city in all its glory. There’s magic in a sunset
view of Florence. I was mesmerized by it. By him. I turned from the
cityscape, and there he was, down on one knee with an antique sapphire
ring he’d bought while I wasn’t looking.

Marry me, Jen,he said.

Yes, I answered in that dreamlike moment and then panicked before we
made it down the 414 stairs to the ground. By then, Evan was already
talking about the tour schedule and when and where we could slip off and
make it official.

I startedtossing out the road spikes to slow things down and haven’t
stopped since. In my family, marriage represents the death of every far
-flung girlhood dream a woman has for herself. It’s the end of planning for
college or thinking about your fantasy job or deciding what you’d like to
become. In the Church of the Brethren Saints, a woman’s role is to mind
her family, keep pleasantat all times, have children as fast as possible, and
submit to everything her husband may demand of her, no matter what kind of man
he is. Growing up, I’d never even seena marriage that didn’t
include threats, intimidation, and abuse.

How can I possibly know how to create one?
Evan deserves so much more. Letting my head fall forward, I exhale a long breath, shuddering without meaningto as long, wavy strands of dark hair fall over my shoulders and draw lines between us. Close up, they seem solid, like
prison bars. Just explain. Tell him. It’s not like he doesn’t know some things about the Church of the Brethren Saints.Evan Hall has lived in the Blue Ridge
Mountains all his life. Of course he’s aware that the Brethren Saints are
cultish, odd, exclusionary, that they practice a perverse, twisted form of
religion. Evan has seen my sisters in their old-fashioned, handmade
dresses and carefully plaited hair and black stockings.

He knows how worried I am that, while I’m away on this book tour, the Brethren Saints and my family will reclaim my youngest sister, Lily Clarette. I’m terrified that they’ll steal her from her first semester in college and spirit her back to the holler and the church.

The picture taunts me even now — Lily Clarette, with her bright golden
eyes and long dark curls. She looks like me as a teenager, and she’s
teetering on the same precipice I was at her age, after a scholarship to
Clemson offered me an escape from our life in Appalachia. From where
Lily Clarette stands right now, it’s either fall back into the pit of all that is familiar or walk the hard road to the outside world.
If I marry Evan, it’ll stir up a hornet’s nest. The family will be that
much more determined to lure Lily Clarette home, to march her down the
church aisle, re - baptize her, and marry her to a man of the Saints before
she can follow my example and permanently break the faith. I can’t
protect her from half a world away. If Evan and I wait, take a while,
hopefully I can ease things along when the time comes.

“There’s so much to think about, Evan. So many decisions to make.” I
chicken out, settle for the easier issues and use them to eclipse the harder
ones.

“For instance?” I can feel him analyzing me. His doubt is palpable.
He’s adept at speed-reading people. It makes him a fabulous writer ... and
a frustrating fiancé.

“Okay, for instance: You’ve got Hannah to raise.” Following the DUI
prison sentence of his black-sheep brother, Evan has assumed
responsibility for his niece, which has made this book tour that much more
trying. Long-distance parenting isn’t ideal, even with the dedicated
support of extended family. “It’s her first year in middle school. She’s
excited about softball and about going out for cheerleading this spring.
You can’t move her away from Looking Glass Gap, not when she’s finally
starting to open up and make new plans. But my job is in New York. I
love Vida House. I love the publishing business. I love being in the middle of
it. I’m a New York City girl.” These things are all true, but they’re so far
from the heart of the problem, an arrow through the middle of them would
barely be a flesh wound.

He scoffs softly, his fingers toying with mine. “Jen, you can work remotely. And you can go to New York anytime you need to. Or want to. There are these things called airports....”

“Very funny.” I look up at him, bite my lip against a smile. He has a way of making me laugh, then skillfully catching me off guard. I love and hate this about him. He’s just so bloomin’... good. “Yes, there are airports.”

“Exactly.”

Touché.He knows he’s just rendered that argument dead on the field of battle. Several team members at Vida House cyber-commute. Editors and literary agents all over New York are doing it now.

“Jen, it’s not like I can’t afford—”

“And there’s that, too. Evan, I bring almost nothing to this marriage
right now. Financially, I mean. It’s all yours. The house in Looking Glass
Gap is yours. If I move there, even the vehicle I’ll be driving will be
yours. I don’t own a car. After putting the money aside to help Lily
Clarette with college, I can’t buy one, either. I can’t even pay for a
wedding. And it’s not like my family’s able to do it... or would if they
could.”

He gives me a look that’s older and wiser. Every once in a while our ten-
year age difference bothers me. He’s been through so much, had so
many experiences, traveled the world, been a superstar since he wrote his
first novel in college and hit it big with the Time Shifters series. We’re at
completely different places in life.

“Jen...” The single word envelops me, and I’m struck with one undeniable fact. I love Evan Hall down to the marrow of my bones. “Do you really think
I care about any of that?”

“No.”

“Is it that you want to take the time to plan a real wedding — big church, guest list, flowers, the whole nine yards? If that’s what you want,
Jen, we can do it that way. I understand how important all the pomp and
circumstance is on the female end of this thing.”

“Evan Hall, you know me better than that. I am so not a girly girl.”

“Good. Then let’s go to Paris and get married in jeans. We’ll say our
vows barefooted. In the park. That’s how my mom and dad got married.
We’ll follow the hippie tradition.”

“I probably have relatives who got married barefoot too... but not
because they were hippies.”

The two of us laugh together and fall back in our chairs, breaking the
tension. A tug on my hand pulls me close again, and he kisses me, and
when the world finally stops spinning, I whisper against his lips the one
thing I know is true. “I love you, Evan.”

“I am going to marry you, Jen Gibbs. It might as well be tomorrow. In Paris.”

My cell phone rings on the table, and I bolt upright as if it’s a tornado
siren on a windy day.Evan rolls a look my way, recognizing the diversionary tactic.Can he see that yes is on the tip of my tongue? Can he sense it in the
lingering taste of the kiss?

“What in the world?” My mind clears, the mist vanishing like fog on a windshield as I push the button and answer. “Lily Clarette? What time is it
there?” The real question is, why is she calling? Even Evan registers a note of concern.

“How is every-thang?” My baby sister’s Carolina mountain drawl seems so out of place on the streets of Bath. It’s a reminder of home. I realize how much I’vemissed Lily Clarette these last few months during the European tour.

“It’s good. Really good.” I hurry through a few details about the book
tour and the sights we’ve seen, but I’m barely conscious of what I’m
saying. My mind is conjuring reasons for this call. Please don’t let her tell
me she’s dropping out of college and moving back to Lane’s Hill.
Last I heard, she was having a tough semester and was too shy to haunt her
professors’ doors for help.

“I miss ye-ew.” She stretches the last word, sweetens it in a way that’s
suspicious. During the year she lived with me in New York, I came to
know the baby sister I’d barely seen since I left Lane’s Hill at eighteen.
I’ve spent enough time with her to know when she’s trying to broach a subject I won’t like.

“I miss you too. How are things looking at Western Carolina U today?”
Evan kisses my hand, folds it in his lap, looks toward the café railing
and notices a knot of fans standing there, comparing him to the photo on
the back cover of one of his Time Shifters books. He gives my fingers a
last squeeze, stands up, and walks to the barrier to oblige an unofficial
book signing.His smile is arresting. He chats and teases. Women swoon.

The heat of jealousy rises beneath the collar of the swaggy wrap sweater I’ve donned with my jeans and boots on this unseasonably lovely March day in Bath.
I want to walk over there and stand beside Evan, rest a hand in the
crook of his elbow, and stake out my territory. The urge catches me by
surprise, but it’s potent.You’re the fool who hasn’t married him yet,
a voice whispers in my head.

What if he decides he’s tired of asking? Would he? Could it happen? If I can’t get over these irrational fears and trust that he really loves me and that it’s possible to leave past family
patterns in the past, will Evan just... move on eventually?

Lily Clarette is chattering about her history class, telling me that the
teacher is her favorite prof and she’s been working like crazy on what will
be her end-of-semester research paper. “He said we could write anything
about North Carolina history, so I ask’ him if I could do my paper on
Mama’s people, the Melungeons, and the carved necklaces like the one
Mama left for us girls.”

Evan’s new novel has created something of a firestorm involving the possible origins of the “blue-eyed Indians” of Appalachia. It’s a mystery with ties to our family, but we don’t know in exactly what way, and my mother isn’t around to tell the tale. Lily Clarette is naturally curious about it. “Some readers who liked Evan’s book have sent information to Vida House about the Melungeons in their own fam'ly roots. A couple of them have story keeper necklaces in their fam'lies, just
like we do. I thought if I could track down those folks, it might help us
find out more about Mama’s people, since we don’t know anythin’ about
that side of the fam’ly....”

My sister is talking a million miles an hour now, spilling information about her discoveries as she’s tunneled into the murky sludge of our past.
“Listen a minute,” I interrupt her finally. Alarm bells are going off in
my head. As the eldest, I know the most about the background of the
mother who left us not long after Lily Clarette was born.The sum total of my information doesn’t amount to much, but what little I do have scares me.

“Did you know that Mama had a brother?” Lily Clarette bursts out.
I need some sort of transatlantic reach. I want to grab my sister and turn
her squarely in another direction.

“Yes, I knew that. Mama’s brother showed up at the farm once when I was little.” I remember the ragged-looking teenage boy with caramel-colored skin and stark hazel-gold eyes. My mother hugged him until I thought he might break. She called him Robby. “He wasn’t there very long before Daddy came home and kicked him out. Mama and Daddy argued over it.” I don’t go into the gory details of my father taking up the long rod and using it to properly subjugate my mother for letting someone into the house without his approval. Lily
Clarette doesn’t remember any of that, though the rod didn’t leave the
household when my mother did. The rod is part of life among the Brethren
Saints. Long rod for major transgressions. Short rod for minor ones.
“His name’s Rob. I sent him a letter.”

“Lily Clarette!” I gasp, and by the railing, Evan glances away from his
fans, one eye narrowing warily. I lower my voice, turn a shoulder, and
hunch over my chair. “That’s not a good idea. People around the church
used to talk about Mama’s family, okay? There was some scary stuff.” I
hate acquainting my innocent nineteen-year-old sister with this part of our history, but it’s better than letting her be lured into something she can’t
handle.

“I know that, Jennia Beth.” She uses the double name I grew up with.

“Folks around the church stilltalk.”

“Then you understand why you should stay away from Mama’s family.”

“Just because I send the man a letter doesn’t mean I’m gonna invite him over for Sun-dey dinner,” she snaps. I’m surprised. That isn’t like Lily Clarette. “Anyhow, he answered me.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s in prison for drugs... and for breakin’ into a convenience store.”

I feel sick. “Oh, Lily Clarette, please don’t—”

“Just listen a minute, ’kay?”

“Okay.” Please, God. Please let this be some sort of strange dream. A
nightmare. I wrestle my little sister away from my father’s family, and now
she’s in touch with my mother’s? How can this be happening?“But I don’t like it at all.”

“Did you ever hear that Mama had a sister?”

“No. The only person I ever saw from Mama’s family was the one
brother, Robby.”

“The sister was lots younger than Mama and Rob. Her name’s Rebecca
Christine. She’s just a few years older than you, really.”

A fist is slowly tightening around my throat. There’s more going on here than Lily Clarette doing a little research for a history project. She’s digging up the family graves, sorting through the bones and the relics. She’s trying to figure out who she is. Who we are.“You learned all this from one letter
to this... this Rob? Are you even sure you’ve got the right person?” She could be writing to some creep, some con man, pretending to be my mother’s brother.

“Yeah, I’m sure. We talked on the phone a couple times.”
“You’re sharing phone callswith this guy?” How much does he know about my sister? Are there return addresses on her letters? There must be. He could track her down... or have someone else come for her.I have to stop this. Now.

“I wrote to a lady I think is Rebecca Christine.” My sister adds fuel to
the fire. “Rob didn’t know for sure where she was livin’ now, but he said
she works on boats and stuff on the North Carolina coast somewhere, and
this lady I wrote to has a boat shop in Elizabeth City. I found it on the
chamber of commerce website. I figure it’s gotta be her.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t answer. I called and left a message the other day. She
didn’t answer that either.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want anything to do with all of this. Or maybe it’s not even her. Or maybe this Robis making up the whole thing, just to pull you in.” Has he asked Lily Clarette for money? Care packages? Help getting out of jail?
How long until he’s released? Is that scheduled to happen anytime
soon?

“How many Rebecca Christines can there be in North Carolina by the
water?” my sister persists.

“More than one, probably.” The name strikes me now.
Rebecca and Christineare the saints’ names of my two middle sisters, Coral Rebecca and Evie Christine. My mother named my sisters after a sibling she’d left behind when she married my father?

“I’m gonna drive over there and try and find her next week durin’ spring break. I might stop by the prison and see Rob, too. I gotta ask him about something face to face. I need to know if what he told me’s true.”

I have to go home. Now. I have to take control of this before something terrible happens. My mind begins rushing through flight schedules, international
airports, paid vacation days. What will the big boss say about my abandoning Evan for the last leg of his tour? There’s only Paris left. He can handle Paris without me.

Paris... the wedding question. Will Evan think this is just another excuse?
The sapphire ring glitters up at me, asking questions. What if Evan finally gives up on you? Could this be the breaking straw? “What? What did Rob tell you, Lily Clarette?” A chill slides through
the weave of my sweater and crawls up my arm. I realize there’s a shadow
blocking the sun. Evan’s.

“That Mama had a baby when she was thirteen. Rob said Rebecca
Christine isn’t really Mama’s sister, even though she was raised like it.
She’s not our aunt. She’s our sister....”

Order Now!

<< Go Back


Developed by Camna, LLC

This is a service provided by ACFW, but does not in any way endorse any publisher, author, or work herein.