Summer’s End and “Sanctinomious”

I feel a little nostalgic at this time of year when I glimpse signs of summer ending. Soundscapes change with tree frogs and buzzing crickets. Early dustings of dry, fallen leaves show up along the sides of my hiking and biking trails. I may have begun summer with an upbeat kind of energy, excited about possibilities, but I feel like my summers often end with a different, more reflective kind of energy. Life moves on with the seasons. My pace and rituals shift yet again with a slow shortening of days.

Feeling that, I wanted to add a little end-of-summer fun to my writing, a pick-me-up of sorts. The short story “Sanctinomious” came out of that impulse. It gathers a couple of my Sacred Grounds series characters for a contentious late summer picnic. It’s the first in a series of two “seasonal” Sacred Grounds short stories that I’ll be sharing on this blog in August and September. I had a lot of fun with this one, so I hope you do, too. 🙂

Read on my for new Sacred Grounds short story “Sanctinomious.”

– Callie

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Sanctinomious

By Callie J. Smith

“Ready?”

“No.” Sandy leaned her head back against the passenger’s seat and closed her eyes. “Can’t I send the cupcakes in with you and take a nap out here instead?”

“I’ll take the cupcakes!” Kerry yelled from the back seat. 

Kevin ignored their five-year-old daughter. He’d put the SUV in park and now turned off the engine. “My mother would come out here looking for you.”

Sandy sighed, picturing her wiry little mother-in-law with dyed red hair. “I know.” 

Just then one of Kerry’s tow-headed cousins ran around the side of the house where they’d parked. The girl waved furiously. Kerry squealed, unbuckled her seatbelt, and flung herself out the passenger’s side door. 

Sandy watched the two girls run around to the back yard. “Vanilla and chocolate,” she thought as the blond and brown ponytails bounced behind them. She remembered feeling that excited about summertime. Games to play, places to explore – summers had seemed so full of possibility. But now …

“I don’t understand why your mother always has to stare at me until I eat her nasty deviled eggs,” she told her husband. 

Kevin pressed his lips together. “She’s proud of her deviled eggs.” He undid his seatbelt but didn’t move to open the door. “You’re a good cook. She finds you threatening. Seeing you eat her deviled eggs is like,” he looked for some good way to explain his mother, “approval.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “This is one of the drawbacks to working in a family business.”

“Deviled eggs?”

“Too much togetherness.” She noticed he didn’t disagree. At least, not right away.

“I’m not ready to give up on it yet,” he said eventually. “My brother has a level head. I don’t think I could find another business partner as reliable as Brad is. I know what to expect. That’s worth a lot.”

Sandy didn’t know that she agreed, but she said nothing.

“And,” he added, “you couldn’t have found a more flexible job.”

She sighed. He wasn’t wrong. Keeping the books for his family’s hardware store had given her a lot of flexibility, especially when Kerry came along. Still, it was always the same old stuff with this family. As it was with most families, she supposed, but most families these days didn’t work together. And most mother-in-laws didn’t make deviled eggs quite so disgusting. She couldn’t recall the ingredient her mother-in-law substituted for mayonnaise, but it didn’t work. At all. 

“I envy Kerry,” she said.

Kevin leaned his own head back against the seat. “Because kids have nothing to worry about?”

“Because kids have a new school year starting soon. Their little lives get this big reset button each year. I want a reset button.” 

Kevin exhaled slowly. 

“I had such high hopes for this summer.” She heard the whine coming into her voice but continued anyway. “But the summer’s almost over, and I got nothing done.”

“You got stuff done.”

“Not what I wanted to.”

“Like what?”

“Like repainting the kitchen, and doing something cute with the backsplash, and rebuilding the fire pit out back.” And finding some other job. And figuring out how to stop Kevin’s mother from coming over every day. And getting Kevin out for a date every now and then. “And,” she had to at least name this last one, “scheduling that little getaway we talked about.” 

Kevin grimaced. “Sorry.”

Sandy shrugged. “We’re busy.” She took a breath and launched in. She really did have to say this. “It’s not a good kind of busy, Kev. It’s your mother bitching and moaning about the cousins you hired. It’s having to badger Brad to get him to talk with us about the next budget. It’s buffering all the squabbles over schedules and …”

“I know.” He dragged his fingers through the dark hair he’d given their daughter. It was as close as Kevin got to a comb. It was also his tell. He was stewing about what she’d said.

Sandy squeezed his shoulder. He gave her a weak smile, and she thought again how much she missed seeing him really smile. It had gotten to the point where he only broke out those real smiles once they left town on vacation, and this year they hadn’t even managed a vacation.

But that was an issue for another day, Sandy reminded herself. For now, they had a family picnic. 

She opened her door first. Kevin followed, grabbing three cupcake carriers out of the back seat. They crossed the front yard and rounded his brother’s house. Brad’s large back yard had nearly filled with people. They made their way to the dessert table to drop off the cupcakes. Then, when Sandy saw Kevin’s mother making a beeline toward them in her pink polyester pants, she bailed. She turned to the two cousins standing behind her and began listening intently.

“You mean he brought alcohol here?” the blonde was whispering to the taller brunette.

“No, no!” said the brunette quickly. Kevin’s family were teetotalers. She dropped her voice. “But you can smell it on him.”

“I bet he wants to flaunt it.”

“Probably.”

“Who’s this?” Sandy inserted herself into the conversation.

“Joe,” said the brunette. She pointed at the blonde. “Her brother. He worked at the store for a few years.” 

Sandy felt a smile explode across her face. “I remember Joe! He put up a Nerf basketball hoop above the store’s office door. When I caught him playing back there, he’d challenge me to a game of HORSE.”

The cousins laughed. 

Sandy pictured the twenty-something with honey blond hair and incorrigibly blue eyes. Then she frowned. “He hasn’t come to a family thing since he left the store, has he?” Watching the two women shake their heads, Sandy knew there must be a story there but hesitated to ask.

“I think he’s got a different definition of relaxing than we do,” offered his sister. 

Sandy tried not to laugh too loudly. She could sympathize. 

The cousins sipped from their soda cans. Then the brunette straightened herself even taller. “Hey,” she pinned Sandy with her hazel eyes, “did you bring dessert?”

Sandy smiled. “Don’t I always?”

The brunette smiled back. “Let’s go.” She grabbed the blonde’s arm and led her away to the dessert table.

Sandy didn’t follow. She never let Kerry have dessert before eating real food and supposed she should follow her own rule. So, she turned back to Kevin and his mother. 

“… no respect for anyone, and you never know what’ll come out of his mouth.” As usual, Kevin’s mother was outlining someone’s faults.

Sandy did her best to betray nothing but polite interest.

“My brother spoiled him,” the older woman continued. “Gave him everything he wanted without making him work for it.” 

Sandy snuck a look at Kevin, hoping for some insight. His bland expression told her nothing. 

“I was still managing the store when we gave him a job.” Kevin’s mother shook her head. “And you know how well that went.” 

“Are we talking about Joe?” Sandy cut in.

The older woman paused long enough to nod. 

“Ah.” Sandy stopped listening. Instead, she looked around the yard. Kerry and two younger cousins hovered by the dessert table. They kept glancing Sandy’s way and shushing each other. Sandy furrowed her brow and pointed a finger at them, mouthing, “Not yet.” 

Kerry sent back a pouting look.

Sandy winked. 

Kerry huffed and grabbed her cousin’s hand. They stalked toward the swing set. 

Sandy went back to scanning the yard. Most of the family had arrived. Some people were snagging appetizers and desserts, but nobody would approach the real food until Brad prayed. And Brad, who stood in the shade of a large maple tree, didn’t appear disposed to prayer just then. Dark-haired and fair-skinned like his brother, Brad had the stockier physique and grey-flecked temples of a slightly older man. And he looked ticked. 

Sandy followed the direction of Brad’s glare. That was how she found Joe. He was bouncing on the trampoline along with two teenaged boys. Sandy looked back at Brad. Brad had never seemed to care who used the trampoline, so she doubted that was the problem. She was still puzzling out what that problem might be when she felt a tug on the peach cotton skirt of her sundress.

“Mommy?” Kerry had returned. 

“What is it, Sweetie?”

“What does ‘sanctinomious’ mean?”

Sandy frowned. “Do you mean ‘sanctimonious’?”

“Yeah.”

That was a big word for a five-year-old. “Well,” she hesitated, thinking, “it means someone’s really serious about being good, but,” she added quickly, “not in a good way.”

Kerry’s brow furrowed. 

“So, we don’t call people that. Okay, honey?”

“Is it a bad word?”

“Sort of.”

Kerry’s eyes went wide. Then she grinned and turned, but Sandy grabbed her sleeve before she could run off. “Wait. Where did you hear that word?”

“It’s what Joe called Uncle Brad.”

“Oh.” She let go of Kerry’s shirt, and the little girl ran off.

The noise level in the yard had begun to drop. A “Shh…” now spread from group to group. Still, some people kept talking. 

Kevin took Sandy’s hand, ready to pray. Sandy glanced at Brad again. The man didn’t appear any happier than he had a moment ago, but now he’d crossed his hands in front of himself and was eyeing the people still talking.

“Shh…” 

The conversation finally died. Then Brad prayed. 

Brad was not a “less is more” man. His prayers spanned topics and continents. Sandy guessed he’d only gotten about half-way through when a languid, creaking rhythm made her open one eye. Joe stood alone on the trampoline now, bouncing lazily as Brad prayed. She felt herself grin. 

Not that her amusement lasted long. After the prayer, Sandy and Kevin ended up in the food line behind his mother. At the serving table, Sandy felt the older woman’s eyes on her, and she dutifully speared two deviled eggs and dropped them beside her potato salad before moving on. 

“Drinks?” Kevin asked as they moved toward lawn chairs with full plates.

“Water,” Sandy said. “Thanks, Kev.” 

“Unsweetened iced tea,” said his mother.

Kevin left, and the two women sat. Sandy popped a whole baby carrot into her mouth. It bought her precious seconds of chewing before she needed to eat anything else. Like a deviled egg.

Her mother-in-law picked up an egg first thing and bit into it daintily. Sandy tried not to cringe and made herself think through safe conversation topics, ideally something other than Joe’s behavior. She didn’t get a chance to speak, though. She’d only just swallowed her carrot when the shout of a single word rang through the yard. 

“Enough!”

Conversations halted. People turned in the direction of the voice – Brad’s voice. He stood under the maple tree facing Joe, who took several swaggering steps toward him.

“Or what?” Joe asked.

“Or I’ll pick you up and carry you off this property,” answered Brad.

Sandy frowned. Brad wasn’t any taller than Joe, and Joe had more muscle on him. A couple onlookers even snickered.

Joe’s expression said he found that statement humorous, too. “I’d like to see you try.” 

Brad’s hands fisted.

“Oh dear,” whispered Sandy’s mother-in-law. Clutching at her plate, the older woman rose from her chair and took a few steps toward the men.

Sandy hopped up and followed, relieved when her mother-in-law stopped well short of the men facing off. Then she remembered Kevin’s words from earlier, and her shoulders relaxed. Brad did have a level head. For better or for worse, Brad was how he was, and this family was how it was. Too passive-aggressive for fist fights, they’d cool down and …

Brad threw the first punch. It caught the left side of Joe’s face.

“Oh!” People gasped as Joe staggered back.

“Don’t let him get away with that, Joe Boy!” someone called from the dessert table.

“Watch out!”

Joe threw a punch that didn’t connect. He followed through with a body slam that took Brad to the ground. Then his fist connected with Brad’s face. 

“Ooh,” came several voices.

Sandy winced and looked away. 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The chant started with Kerry and her tow-headed cousins, but before long, some adults had joined in, too. 

Sandy tried looking again. The two men rolled over each other now, grappling on the ground for the upper hand. For the time being, they’d stopped punching. Sandy let out a breath and looked around. A crowd had gathered around the fighters, though she’d hung back a little. She was about to set her plate on the nearest surface when she realized something. She stood right by the serving table in front of the deviled eggs. 

Wrinkling her nose, Sandy automatically glanced at Kevin’s mother, only to find her watching the fight with rapt attention. The woman had completely forgotten Sandy’s plate. The realization caught Sandy up short. She wondered … 

A barrel lined with a plastic garbage bag stood at the end of the food table not six feet away. It struck Sandy that the garbage can had an opening much larger than a Nerf basketball hoop. Which was good, she thought, since she hadn’t made a shot in years.

Picking up a deviled egg from her plate, Sandy aimed and threw. With a perfect little arc, the egg landed in the trash. She grinned. Then she imagined Joe missing the shot she’d just made. “H,” she whispered. 

Glancing around, Sandy saw no one paying her any attention. It was wonderful. She picked up the other deviled egg on her plate and threw. It arced beautifully into the trash. She smiled, part of her wishing she had someone to play with. Maybe later. For now, she turned to check on the fight. 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Sandy joined in the call, herself. She also grabbed three more deviled eggs from the serving dish and made three shots in quick succession, each egg swooshing into the trash. Again, she imagined optimistically that Joe had missed each of those shots after her. “HORSE,” she whispered. Then she tossed a spare paper plate on top of the garbage to cover up the eggs. Let her mother-in-law feel affirmed.

Sandy turned back to the crowd. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” She saw Kevin and another cousin approaching the fighters, as if to intervene. Worried, Sandy moved closer. She got close enough to hear the men speaking to each other.

“What do you want, Joe?” Brad was breathing heavily. He’d just pinned Joe’s arms to the ground.

“I want,” Joe grunted, flipping Brad off on him and then putting a knee on Brad’s chest, “some family time.”

Brad may have frowned, but Sandy couldn’t quite tell. “Get off!” he said.

Joe pinned Brad’s arms on the ground and lowered his face to Brad’s. “And I want cupcakes.”

Brad definitely frowned this time. Then he twisted and threw Joe off balance. He fisted his right hand again.

Joe lay on his back, but he didn’t move to defend himself. “I want,” he enunciated each word with careful emphasis, “to shove a cupcake up your nose.”

Brad stared at him. “What?”

Joe burst out laughing. 

Perplexed, Brad stared at the other man on the ground. He may not have even realized that his fist relaxed.

“You should see the look on your face, man.” Joe was grinning.

Brad seemed to be fighting the smile sneaking up one corner of his mouth. He didn’t resist when Kevin hoisted him up from the ground and dragged him away toward the fence. Another cousin helped Joe up and then pulled him in the opposite direction. 

The “Fight! Fight! Fight!” chorus died down.

For a moment, Sandy only stared at Brad. Lip split, he was shaking his head, though his expression had lightened considerably. Then she looked over at Joe, wondering what cupcakes had to do with any of it. 

Probably nothing. 

Finally moving back to her mother-in-law, Sandy put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Let’s go sit down.”

“What?”

“Let’s sit down.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed.

And they did. Sandy ate another carrot and watched the crowd, glad to see Kerry and her cousins scrambling over to the table of real food now that the show had ended. Kevin stood at the fence with his arms crossed, watching his brother brush dirt off his jeans. Conversations were starting up again, though in more hushed tones. Sandy suspected the topics had changed. It wasn’t everyday they had a fist fight. 

She glanced back at her mother-in-law. “I enjoyed the deviled eggs,” she said. “Best batch yet.” In a way, it was true. 

Her mother-in-law’s eyes widened. Then her gaze dropped to Sandy’s plate, searching it as if the eggs might have hidden themselves behind the potato salad. 

They hadn’t, of course. Sandy smiled.

“Thank you,” said the woman finally. Then her eyes returned to her sons. She bit her bottom lip. “I’ll be back.” She stood, set her plate down in the chair, and strode to the fence where Kevin and Brad stood. 

Kevin must have needed the break, because at his mother’s arrival he returned to Sandy. He picked up the plate of food he’d left on the chair beside her and sat. He’d brought the water, too, and handed Sandy a bottle.

“Thanks.” 

Kevin nodded and opened his own water bottle. He took a gulp. 

“Level-headed Brad …,” Sandy began, though she didn’t finish the thought.

“I know.” Kevin gulped more water. Then he picked up his hot dog and bit into it.

Sandy eyed him. She decided to let him process things, or not, in silence. So, she ate, too. She’d eaten half her own hot dog by the time Joe dropped himself onto the grass right in front of them. 

“Hey, kids!” He held up one of Sandy’s jumbo vanilla-frosted cupcakes and shoved as much of it into his mouth as he could. Then he chewed happily, smiling with a mouth full of cupcake. His left eye had turned red and begun to swell.

“Brad got you good,” Kevin said.

Joe nodded, blond hair flopping down over his forehead. He swallowed and held up the cupcake, looking at Sandy. “You selling these yet?”

Sandy laughed. “No.”

“You should. It’s a work of art. Fluffy icing with a light crust,” he turned the cupcake around, “moist cake, funky fillings – you could totally open a bakery.” His voice lost some of its flippancy. “If you’re going to do the small business thing, you need to enjoy it.”

Sandy glanced sideways at her husband. 

His face showed no reaction. He only asked Joe, “You alright?”

“Fine, man.”

Sandy scented vanilla on Joe’s breath but, she realized, no alcohol. Interesting. “It’s good to see you again,” she said. 

“Good to see you!” Joe shoved half the remaining cupcake into his mouth.

“It’s been a while,” Kevin ventured. “What brought you by today?”

Joe shrugged and said with his mouth full, “Thought I might accomplish something.” 

“Did you?” 

Joe grinned. “Absolutely.” He glanced back to the fence where Brad still talked with his mother. “But I should keep moving.” He stood and held up the last piece of the cupcake. “Open that bakery. Okay?” He shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth and walked away.

Sandy watched him go and found herself smiling again. He had gotten a different Brad to show up, even if only for a few minutes. 

“He may be right,” said Kevin, shoving a forkful of macaroni salad into his mouth. 

“About accomplishing something?”

“About selling your desserts.” He finished chewing and swallowed. “We could invest in a food truck or something. You could build up the business, and I could leave the store and help you once it’s viable.”

Sandy stared at him, stunned. “I thought you weren’t ready to give up on the family business.”

He shrugged. “It can’t hurt to look into some other things.”

“True,” she agreed, thinking about it. “We might not be able to make much money with a food truck.” She paused as Brad walked past them toward the house, shaking his head with an almost-smile. “But then again, you never know what’ll happen.”

“You sure don’t.”

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The short story “Sanctinomious” will be collected in the back of the forthcoming paperback edition of Coincidentally Yours: A Sacred Grounds Novelette (available September 15th from Clay Patin Press).