Read Online Angels by Reba White Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Reba White Williams
Tags: FIC044000
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cried. After the service was over, everybody came back to our house, where the Presbyterian Church ladies served lemonade and iced tea and iced coffee and cookies. Aunt Polly had made white dresses for me and Coleman to wear, and we passed the cookies. I was glad we’d fixed up the house, but most people didn’t go inside. They sat on the porch, or stood in the shade under the magnolia trees, talkin’ about Aunt Olivia and other long-gone Fairgroves. Everybody said nice things to Coleman, and she was real polite. But she looked sad. Aunt Olivia was her only family besides us, and she never even got to meet her.
Miss Ida says after all we’ve been through, we need a holiday, and Coleman has never seen the ocean, and it’s ‘bout time she did. So Aunt Mary Louise is drivin’ us in her station wagon to the beach to spend the day. We’re leavin’ real early in the mornin’ to miss the traffic, and we’re goin’ to eat lunch in Southport, which is the prettiest town I ever saw. And on the way home we’re goin’ to visit our ancestors’ graves in Moore’s Creek National Battlefield, which is a park. I’ve only been to the beach three times in my life, and Southport once, and never to that battlefield. I can hardly wait.
AUGUST
Polly
The beach trip was a great success. We had room in the car for Freddy and two little Byrd girls, Bethany and Leah, as well as our two, and Peter, who acted like he had two tails. We left at seven in the morning, right after breakfast. The children, wearing their bathing suits under shorts and T-shirts, chattered like blue jays all the way to the beach. We’d decided to go to White Dunes, a beach that doesn’t have much of a town with it, unlike most of the beaches in this part of North Carolina, so it’s not crowded. It’s a beautiful beach, too, with white sand, and dunes with tall grass, and lots of seabirds for Freddy to look at.
Coleman’s eyes were big as saucers when she saw the ocean, which that day was as green as her eyes. She wasn’t a bit afraid of it (so far we haven’t encountered anything Coleman is afraid of), but she can’t swim, so I watched her like a hawk. We’ll get her swimming lessons as soon as we can. The other girls can swim, but they were timid about the ocean, because they don’t see it much, and they didn’t venture deep—just played in the shallow waves. Freddy didn’t go in the ocean at all, just walked around with his binoculars fixed to his eyes. The girls tried to catch tiny fish in pails Mary Louise gave them, and picked up shells, and made a sand castle, and had a glorious time. Peter rolled in anything smelly he could find and wore himself out chasing sand crabs and seagulls.
Mary Louise and Ida and I settled in chairs under umbrellas and basked in the ocean breeze, breathing in the smell of saltwater, seaweed, fish, and I don’t know what all—just a delicious beach smell. Behind us, the dune grass rustled, and in front of us, the waves splashed and pounded. Down the beach in front of the hotel, we could see a crowd, but no one was nearby. In the distance, a few swimmers swam out beyond the breakers, children laughed, and dogs barked. Pelicans and terns and skimmers flew by. It was a perfect day at the beach.
But the sun was broiling hot even under the big umbrellas, and by eleven o’clock, Ida and Mary Louise and I had had enough, and we didn’t want the children to get blistered. We rounded them up and sent them to the showers near the parking lot. Everyone rinsed all the sand off—even Peter, with Coleman’s help, which was a challenge, since he doesn’t like baths and treasures the horrible smells he picks up. We put all the wet bathing suits and towels in a big plastic bag, and the children pulled on their shorts and T-shirts. When everyone was clean and cool, we got back in the car and drove to nearby Southport. On the way, Freddy told us about the birds he saw—the skimmers and an osprey, and I don’t know what
Miss Ida says after all we’ve been through, we need a holiday, and Coleman has never seen the ocean, and it’s ‘bout time she did. So Aunt Mary Louise is drivin’ us in her station wagon to the beach to spend the day. We’re leavin’ real early in the mornin’ to miss the traffic, and we’re goin’ to eat lunch in Southport, which is the prettiest town I ever saw. And on the way home we’re goin’ to visit our ancestors’ graves in Moore’s Creek National Battlefield, which is a park. I’ve only been to the beach three times in my life, and Southport once, and never to that battlefield. I can hardly wait.
AUGUST
Polly
The beach trip was a great success. We had room in the car for Freddy and two little Byrd girls, Bethany and Leah, as well as our two, and Peter, who acted like he had two tails. We left at seven in the morning, right after breakfast. The children, wearing their bathing suits under shorts and T-shirts, chattered like blue jays all the way to the beach. We’d decided to go to White Dunes, a beach that doesn’t have much of a town with it, unlike most of the beaches in this part of North Carolina, so it’s not crowded. It’s a beautiful beach, too, with white sand, and dunes with tall grass, and lots of seabirds for Freddy to look at.
Coleman’s eyes were big as saucers when she saw the ocean, which that day was as green as her eyes. She wasn’t a bit afraid of it (so far we haven’t encountered anything Coleman is afraid of), but she can’t swim, so I watched her like a hawk. We’ll get her swimming lessons as soon as we can. The other girls can swim, but they were timid about the ocean, because they don’t see it much, and they didn’t venture deep—just played in the shallow waves. Freddy didn’t go in the ocean at all, just walked around with his binoculars fixed to his eyes. The girls tried to catch tiny fish in pails Mary Louise gave them, and picked up shells, and made a sand castle, and had a glorious time. Peter rolled in anything smelly he could find and wore himself out chasing sand crabs and seagulls.
Mary Louise and Ida and I settled in chairs under umbrellas and basked in the ocean breeze, breathing in the smell of saltwater, seaweed, fish, and I don’t know what all—just a delicious beach smell. Behind us, the dune grass rustled, and in front of us, the waves splashed and pounded. Down the beach in front of the hotel, we could see a crowd, but no one was nearby. In the distance, a few swimmers swam out beyond the breakers, children laughed, and dogs barked. Pelicans and terns and skimmers flew by. It was a perfect day at the beach.
But the sun was broiling hot even under the big umbrellas, and by eleven o’clock, Ida and Mary Louise and I had had enough, and we didn’t want the children to get blistered. We rounded them up and sent them to the showers near the parking lot. Everyone rinsed all the sand off—even Peter, with Coleman’s help, which was a challenge, since he doesn’t like baths and treasures the horrible smells he picks up. We put all the wet bathing suits and towels in a big plastic bag, and the children pulled on their shorts and T-shirts. When everyone was clean and cool, we got back in the car and drove to nearby Southport. On the way, Freddy told us about the birds he saw—the skimmers and an osprey, and I don’t know what
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