All usual disclaimers – No sex among those younger than 18; I edit my own work; my characters speak to each other and to others (dialogue). I paint pictures of locations, people, and events with words, which is TMI for many; and this story involves Americans from several states, but is set largely in Texas — that, in and of itself, is a trigger for many others. Good or bad, this chapter will be better if you have read the previous nine first.
From the end of chapter nine, after the 5’6″, 120# Jo stomped some big bad fraternity boys.
“I do think I learned something about myself. My instructor says I love martial arts because I have so much anger stored inside and working out provides some release. I don’t know about that, but something inside me just snapped when Jack grabbed and squeezed my boobs, and I wanted to beat the crap out of everyone that had put their dirty hands on me, or on Kate, or said something nasty to one of us while we were trying to get the work done!”
“Maybe we should rethink having kids, Honey,” Chris teased lightly, “with my temper and your ferocity…”
“Speaking of having kids,” she whispered, in a complete mood flip, “maybe we should go up and practice.”
They left Kate and Donna talking animatedly while watching Kate’s video for the fourth time.
****
They slept in Saturday, and then all four went outside to work on the garden and with the plants in the barn. Chris intended to mow, but the girls wanted the flower beds turned over so they could plant them soon. They made deals: Chris tilled while Jo mowed, Donna used the spreader to fertilize after Jo finished mowing an area, and Kate chopped weeds in the garden and ran a string trimmer around the outside of the flower beds. Not one of them had ever done those jobs before, but there was a sense of satisfaction in doing something new, in contributing to a project for the common good.
They were through before three pm, giving them sufficient time to get their bags packed for a week at the coast. Chris gave them a lecture on the essentials to bring – swimsuits, shorts sets, two pair of jeans with blouses, and a couple of sundresses, in case they went out on the town.
Still, he knew what to expect, so he wasn’t surprised early Sunday morning when each one brought a large suitcase, a backpack, a makeup bag, and a stuffed hanging clothes bag out to the Jeep.
They were surprised, however, to find a covered aluminum trailer attached to the Jeep Wrangler Sahara Edition. It was already half filled with ice chests, a canvas beach cabana, folding chairs, loungers, and fishing gear, but their luggage easily fit, and there were circular wall hooks on which to hang their clothing bags.
It was seasonally cool in Fort Worth, meaning daytime highs in the 60s and lows in the 50s, but the forecast for Port A was 75-63 today, with highs in the 80s for the next four days. They were all wearing shorts and tank tops in anticipation of the warm beach, but with windbreakers, in concession to the cooler weather this morning.
Although none had previously experienced the horrors of Interstate 35, they had heard the stories of heavy traffic, high speeds, and construction zones that Texans complained were eternally ongoing. Regardless, it was the only logical route to their destination until they got to Waco, where they could switch to smaller, more scenic highways.
Just north of Waco, they stopped for a couple of boxes of the famous Texas Czech pastries available in West: fruit stuffed kolaches and sausage stuffed klobasneks, which were delicious with large to-go cups of coffee.
Exiting in Waco onto US 77, they saw miles and miles of Texas ranch and farmland, beginning in the Blackland Prairie geographic region and continuing through the Post Oak Belt. Cameron, Milano, Lexington, Giddings, and La Grange passed by, and they stopped in Schulenburg to stretch and get ‘cokes’. The store had locally made jerky for sale, so they bought some beef, some pork, and some turkey jerky, which none had eaten before, for snacks.
There was more agricultural land through Hallettsville and on to Victoria, where they entered the Coastal Plains region. They got their first peek at the water on a cutoff from Sinton to Aransas Pass as they drove along Copano Bay. Gigantic Wind Turbines cluttered the skyline, and they only grew larger as they got closer. It felt strange to see them set in the midst of cotton and grain fields.
Through Aransas Pass, onto the causeway to the Intercostal Canal, and then they waited for the ferry that would carry them across to Mustang Island and Port Aransas. Their car was the first car in the middle row of five. Like most everyone else, they got out and stood at the front to watch the fish swimming and jumping, and the porpoises playing in front of the ferry.
Their condo was further out, on the southern edge of town, and was separated from the Gulf of Mexico only by the barrier dunes. They were pleased to learn that a wooden walkway was built above the dunes, providing access by foot. Since it was a private condo, Chris merely identified himself to the security guard at the gate and showed him the key. He looked at his clipboard, told them the gate opener was on top of the kitchen counter so this was the only time they needed to stop, and signaled for the gate to be opened.
The condominium was everything you’d expect from someone with the means of the owner. The four bedrooms were upstairs, each with a balcony and bath. The ground floor was dominated by a huge living space with picture windows, couches, and three loveseat recliners. The open kitchen and dining area took up the west side of the house, and two water closets were situated between the living and dining areas. A large storage closest was located under the stairs.
A twenty-foot wide balcony wrapped around the east and south sides of the house on the ground floor, with a covered 10-person hot tub on the northeast corner of the balcony. The community swimming pool and sand volleyball pit were only a few hundred steps to the northwest, and the walkway to the beach began there.
Covered parking was located behind the condo, and two of the four spaces were taken up by colorful six-person beach buggies. They carried their bags inside and picked their rooms, leaving one for Diane and her unknown friend. Donna texted her sister, and learned they were just leaving Victoria, so it would be at least an hour before they got there. Donna told her to call when they were close and they would go open the gate for them, but they were going to the beach right now!
On one buggy, Chris strapped the sunshade cabana, four loungers, and the ice chest filled with water, soft drinks, and a few beers. He ran upstairs to change into his board shorts, and met the excited girls outside. They were wearing cover-ups because temperatures were only in the low 70s at 1 pm, but the sky was clear, the sun warm, and there was a light breeze. It would be a great day to be on the beach.