By Jeff Hampton
Note: This is an excerpt from Aransas Morning, a novel about friendship, love and redemption on the Texas coast. Aransas Morning and the sequel, Aransas Evening, are available at the Books page on this website.
Sam awoke to the puttering of diesel engines and crunching of tires on the sand-dusted blacktop outside his trailer. He sat up in bed and looked out the window to see a line of flatbed trucks loaded with tents, tables, metal barricades, and portable toilets.
“Damn fest,” he muttered and lay back down in bed. It was just Monday morning, and already Sam was feeling like a prisoner inside his trailer. While the event only lasted three days, it took longer than that to set up, and it all took place on the beach—his beach—just outside the trailer park. And while spring break might draw sixty thousand people to the island, it was spread up and down the beach and all around the town over a two-week period. But SandFest could bring a hundred thousand for three intense days right outside his door.
Sam was still grumbling when he got to the Dream Bean and put on his apron.
“What’s up?” Dave asked.
“SandFest.”
“Well, why don’t you come stay with me till it’s over? You can sleep on the sofa.”
“Uh . . . I don’t know.”
“Oh come on, it’ll be good for you. You’ll be closer to work and you’ll definitely get in some extra hours here and at the market.”
“I’d do it, Sam,” said Shelly. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that circus.”
“Sounds fun to me,” said Allie.
“That’s just because you’ve never been,” said Shelly.
“Well, I for one plan to check it out.”
“Me too,” said Dave. “So, what about the bed, Sam?”
“I appreciate it, but I think I’ll just tough it out.”
“Suit yourself.” Dave turned back to Allie. “Let’s go down Friday afternoon.”
“Better make it Sunday,” Shelly said. “That’s when they do all the judging.”
“Let’s make it Saturday,” said Allie. “I want to watch them making the sculptures.”
“It’s a date.” Dave looked at Shelly and gave her a sly wink.
Business around the piers picked up as preparations for SandFest moved along. Shelly and Allie were alone at the shop that Thursday afternoon when a small group of college kids came in dressed for the beach. They crowded around the counter, shouting their orders in random order, punctuated by “no” and “wait,” until Allie parked her pad and pen on the counter. Noticing Allie’s frustration, one of the boys—a tall, handsome redhead—came to her rescue.
“C’mon guys, let’s get organized. One at a time.”
It was then that Allie noticed the kids were ordering as couples and then backing away to a table in the middle of the room. All but the redhead, who was last to order.
“I’ll have a large iced tea. Sorry about the others. They’ve been out of control since we got here.”
“Where you from?”
“Nacogdoches.”
“Well that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“You’re from so deep in the woods that you don’t know what to do when you get out in the sunshine.”
He laughed. “Yes ma’am, I reckon that’s probably right.”
“And you can put away that ‘ma’am’ nonsense,” Allie said. “I’m not any older than you, if at all. And I do have a name.”
“And what’s that?” he asked as he handed over his credit card.
“Allie.” She swiped the card and noted his name as she handed it back. “I’ll bring it out to you all in a moment, Justin.” Allie smiled.
Justin went to join the others and Allie filled the order. Shelly noticed the little bounce in Allie’s step and sidled up next to her. “I didn’t take you as favoring redheads.”
“Oh stop it. That boy’s a total stranger.”
“Yeah, well, so was Dave when he first stood at this counter.”
Allie gave Shelly a look that said, “You really want us to start talking about you and Dave?” Shelly realized her blunder and turned away to take care of other chores.
Allie loaded up a tray with iced teas and iced coffees and carried it over to the table. As she walked away, one of the boys whistled through his teeth, and the others laughed. Allie went back to the counter where Shelly was watching—and listening. The language at the table had grown crude, and while Shelly’s ears were not at all tender, she’d heard enough when one of the boys said to the redhead, “You definitely should get you some of that island skank.”
Shelly marched to the table. “I don’t mind you kids being here, but I don’t like that language. Shut it up or leave.”
“Well now, aren’t we tough,” said one of the boys.
“Oooh, gonna go call the boss and have him bounce us?” asked a girl in mock fear.
Allie snickered from across the room. She knew what was coming next.
“No, I’m not gonna call the boss. I am the boss, and I’ll tell you one more time: Clean up your language or get out of my shop.”
Shelly turned to go back to the counter, but wheeled around again when she heard one of the girls mutter, “Testy old bitch.”
“That’s it,” Shelly said. She walked to the door and held it open with her body. “Get out . . . now!”
“Now wait a minute . . . ,” one of them said, but Allie, walking to the table, cut her off: “You better do what she says.”
“You too?” said another girl, and then to one of the others, “Like mamma bitch, like daughter bitch.”
Allie reached into the middle of the table, picked up a tall cup, popped off the lid, and splashed its icy contents in the girl’s face. “I may be a bitch, but you’re a sloppy mess. Better go back to the hotel and clean up.”
The girl was speechless as she wiped her eyes clear with her hands. Allie pointed to the door. They all got up in a hurry, knocking over chairs and muttering as they retreated to the door.
“I told you we should’ve gone to Houston instead of this hick town,” said one of the boys loudly.
Justin was the last out the door. His face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said to Allie in a hushed voice so the others couldn’t hear. He shrugged and smiled, and Allie waved and followed him out onto the porch.
“Sorry to break up the party. That one at least seemed nice,” Shelly said.
Allie sighed as she leaned against the porch rail, watching the kids walk away until they turned the corner. “I better mop up.”
Nothing more was said about the incident, but on Saturday after the rush Shelly handed Allie a small white envelope. “This was in the mailbox.”
Allie looked at the front and saw her name scribbled in pencil. Inside was a handwritten note on a page torn from a motel notepad: “Sorry we were rude. Like U said—too much sunshine. C U sometime? Justin.” And then he added an email address.
Allie let a small giggle slip past her lips as she stuffed the note in her pocket.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
“Well, you ready to go?” Dave had gone home and come back wearing shorts and a T-shirt and sandals.
“Sure. Just a second.” Allie disappeared to the back and came out in shorts, a bikini top, and flip-flops.
“Sure you won’t come with us?” Dave asked Shelly.
“Naw, been there done that.”
“She’s no fun. Come on.” Allie pulled Dave by the hand out the door.
Allie and Dave wandered from station to station on the beach where artists of every age and description chiseled away at great mounds of sand. There were mermaids, sea creatures, and tall turreted castles, as one would expect, but also renditions of things you’d never equate with the sea: A giant bust of Willie Nelson clutching his guitar, an elephant dancing with a monkey, dogs at a table playing cards.
“Crazy. Fantastic.” Allie offered critiques of every new creation. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” And just as quickly as she was drawn into a scene, walking around it to take in every little sculpted detail, her attention was drawn away by a group of kids walking by.
Dave noticed her standing on her tiptoes. “Think he might be here?”
“Who?”
“That redheaded boy I heard about.”
“Maybe.”
Dave started to laugh and Allie gave him a push toward one of the sculptures.
“Careful,” he said, keeping his balance as his leg brushed against the rope surrounding a giant likeness of a dragon eating a man.
“And what about you?” Allie asked. “Disappointed that Shelly didn’t come?”
“A little. But she does her own thing and that’s something I like about her. She’s not a follower.”
“Then you’re the one that’ll have to do the chasing and catching.” Allie gave Dave another teasing shove and then ran off to the next sculpted scene. And on they went past the contest sand carvings and then to the area set aside for children and families to try their hand. Allie took off her flip-flops and waded ankle deep into the surf to cool her feet. And then she stood a moment, looking back toward the crowd, unconsciously drawing in the damp sand with her toes.
“Going to draw something?” Dave asked.
“No, just playing. You can go on back if you wish, but I think I’ll stay out here awhile.”
“Okay. I might go back and see if Shelly needs help cleaning up.”
Allie smiled. “You do that.” She hesitated. “You know . . . even a girl like Shelly likes being chased a little.”