Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (7 page)

“Are you serious?”

“I think about it all the time. Brad promised to love and protect me, to always be with me, to be faithful to me. But he hangs out at Larry’s and comes home drunk and yells at me about money or the laundry or my cooking. He hates my beadwork. His parents are freaks, and he says mine are losers. We have a puppy that piddles all over the floor. Our house is falling down. And I can’t count on my husband. I don’t trust him anymore.” As she was speaking, tears welled in Ashley’s eyes again.

“Oh, Ash.” Jennifer let out a breath. “I hear what you’re saying. We both trusted ourselves to someone we believed in … and we both feel let down. I just wish I could get it back.”

“That feeling? Me too. I would give anything to see the look of true love in Brad’s eyes again.”

“Can you win him back?”

Ashley shrugged. “Why should I bother? I used to think he was amazing. Wonderful. The most popular, handsome guy in his class. I couldn’t even get him to look at me. He was the quarterback on the football team, Jen.”

“I know. Brad and I are the same age.”

“Do you know him very well? Maybe you could talk to him for  me.”

“Me? Talk to Brad?” Jennifer began sorting beads again. “Ashley, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s your husband. You should talk to him.”

“But I don’t know what to say. We always end up in a fight. You’re a Christian and all that. Don’t you know anything about counseling?”

“I took a class last semester, but it was all about relating to the needs of tribal people.”

“Sometimes I think Brad Hanes is a savage.” Ashley focused on attaching the clasp. She didn’t like to recall the times that Brad had been drunk and they’d argued. More than once, she had feared he might hit her.

“Maybe he is,” Jennifer said. “The football team was his tribe, and he’s taking out his feelings on his wife. You should go to a counselor. People say Pastor Andrew is terrific.”

“You’re the one who should talk to Pastor Andrew. He’ll understand all about your missionary stuff. But Brad … well, I think he might listen to you, Jen. You were in the same grade, you’re the same age, and you’re probably as smart as he is—which I’m not.”

“Come on, Ash. Why would you say that?”

“Brad graduated with a 4.0, you know.”

“Brad Hanes?”

“Believe it or not, but it’s true. He says it was just so he could stay on the football team, but the truth is, he liked school. I got by with average grades. I was usually too busy working at the snack shop to get my homework done. I didn’t care about anything but the art classes anyway. Brad is way smarter than I am. Look at me and this bead business. You’re right—I probably should have asked for the money before I sent out the necklaces. I’m so dumb I never even thought of that.”

“You’re not dumb. You’re just inexperienced.”

“Talk to Brad for me, will you? Tell him I’m not such a bad wife. Tell him I’m doing my best, and the way I act is normal for a woman. I’m emotional because I feel things. And tell him to stop going to Larry’s. Please, Jen.”

Jennifer pushed the newly organized tray across the table toward Ashley. “If I see him, I might try to say something.”

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Ashley said. “I’m supposed to be at work in half an hour.”

As Ashley started to pack up her trays, Jennifer caught her arm. “Leave them. I’ll sort the rest of the beads for you.”

Ashley smiled. “Thanks. Maybe it’ll help me not think about Esther so much.”

“You know, Ash, you’re kind and artistic and sensitive—not to mention gorgeous with all that red hair. If Brad Hanes doesn’t realize what he’s got, he’s a lot dumber than I think he is.”

Starting for the sliding door that led out of the basement, Ashley felt better than she had in weeks. She paused and glanced back at the other woman.

“You’ll figure out what to do, Jen,” she said. “Just be patient.”

“You too, Ash. You too.”

The two gazed at each other for a moment, and then Ashley pushed open the door and stepped outside.

CHAPTER FOUR

B
rad picked up the puppy and set him in a cardboard box. “That’s what you get, Yappy. Back where you started. And don’t even think about yowling at me, because I’m not letting you out.”

“You don’t have to let him out,” Charlie Moore commented as the puppy leaped up and flung himself over the side of the box. “He’s already got that part down pat.”

“Well, great.” Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, Brad shook his head. The little dog landed on the floor spread-eagled, picked himself up, shook his head, and made a dive for the hem of Brad’s jeans. Tiny teeth sank into the denim, and the dog began to back up, growling ferociously as he tried to tug Brad across the room.

“We’re not going to get anything done at this rate,” he told Charlie. “Do you want to see if he’ll play with Boofer?”

“Why not?” The older man stepped to the door of the new room that he and Brad had built onto the Haneses’ house. “Boof’s an old cuss like me, but he probably wouldn’t mind hanging around with a young whippersnapper every now and then.”

With a wink at Brad, he opened the door and let the plump mutt into the room. The moment Boofer entered, Yappy flung himself at the mop of long black hair. Tail end raised high, the pup bowed as if in submission to the larger dog.

“Wow!”
Suddenly dancing sideways, Yappy scampered around Boofer with high-pitched yelps of delight.
“Wow, wow, wow!”

Boofer made an effort at sniffing the little creature bouncing in circles. Tail wagging, the older dog allowed Yappy to take a whiff of him, and then they were off. Both dogs began scurrying around the living room, racing behind the armchair, nearly knocking the television off its stand, skittering across the kitchen floor.

Brad watched in amusement as Yappy ran behind the sofa, Boofer in hot pursuit. The older dog had gained weight in recent years, and he stuck like a cork. But not for long. Backing out, he shook himself and took off after the puppy again.

“I guess you were right,” Brad told Charlie. “I had a feeling the box wouldn’t hold Yap for long. Ashley made a nice bed on the floor for him the first night. He howled and carried on so much that we ended up putting him under the covers with us.”

“And he’s been there ever since.” Charlie chuckled. “Same with Boof. I told Esther it was a mistake to let that dog on the bed. Would she listen?”

“Do they ever?” Brad glanced at the empty sink in which he had scrubbed nearly all the pots and pans that he and Ashley owned. The dishwasher was now running, scouring plates and silverware—which he had loaded. The countertops gleamed. Ashley hadn’t lifted a finger.

“Women don’t listen much,” Charlie said, “unless you know how to get their attention. The main thing they want to do is talk—
share feelings
is how Esther used to put it. She cared what I was thinking, of course, but she was a lot more interested in letting me in on her own state of mind. If I wanted to make an important point, I had to get her to focus on me. It was hard sometimes, but I learned a few tricks in my years.”

“Have you got a trick that would make a wife clean up the house every now and then? I did all this myself.”

“You?”
Charlie’s face feigned amazement. Then he put a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Listen, son, a man may not like to do the dishes, but he’s every bit as capable as a woman. I found that out after Esther’s accident. I used to plead ignorance about the dishwasher. I insisted that everything in the laundry room was a mystery to me. I couldn’t iron a shirt without burning a hole in it—or so I told Esther. She informed me that if I could run a power saw and a router, I could certainly iron a collar. Turned out she was right. ’Course it took me nearly fifty years to concede that argument. I never would sew on a button. Insisted that was
women’s work
. Now look at me.”

Charlie indicated the floppy cuff of his plaid flannel shirt. “I reckon I’ll have to find Esther’s mending box and replace the button one of these days. This ol’ dog is going to have to learn a new trick.”

“Ashley could sew on a button for you. She’s always got a needle and thread in her hand.”

“Thanks, but no. I plan to figure this thing out myself just to please Esther. She and my mother are up in heaven right now, probably discussing how my shoes don’t match my socks, or my shirt doesn’t go with my pants, or I missed a belt loop. Some such thing. Esther was always onto me about my appearance, and I wouldn’t listen. I told her it was my business what I wore and not hers. I’m sure you’ve already learned there are things you and your young bride are going to fuss over from now till one or the other of you goes on to glory.”

Brad pondered this comment. At the moment, he could think of about fifty things he and Ashley had been fighting over. His drinking. Her beads. The kitchen. The puppy. The lawn. Money. In-laws. Sex. Friends. Free time. Jobs. Which of them was supposed to make the bed in the morning. Who ought to rake leaves off the driveway. On and on.

“Well, seeing as you’ve got the kitchen tidied,” Charlie continued, “I guess we can get to work prying up these old tiles. Looks like those two fellows wore each other out already.”

Brad glanced over his shoulder to find the dogs lying curled together, sound asleep. Yappy was snoring loudly, as usual. Boofer seemed pleased to be snuggled up to the pup.

“I haven’t seen Yap that zonked out since I brought him home from Larry’s,” Brad said as he handed Charlie a shovel. “He’d been shivering inside a cardboard box all day. The minute his stomach was full, he cratered.”

“You were a good man to rescue him. Not many people would take in a stray, especially at this time of year. It’s so cold, a pup is reluctant to go out and take care of his business.” Charlie set the flat edge of his shovel against the seam between two of the old linoleum tiles. With one foot on the blade, he gave a push. The tile snapped in half and popped out of place.

The job didn’t look as difficult as Brad had feared it might be. He joined the older man, and within a half hour, they had cleared off a large portion of the old flooring. They chatted a little, as always when they worked. Both men kept up with the NFL standings, and they favored the same teams. As usual, Charlie reminisced about his childhood and his work as a mail carrier. All of his conversation was sprinkled with remarks about Esther. Now each comment carried a tinge of sadness. Once in a while, Charlie choked up and couldn’t go on.

Listening to his friend hearken back to events in his long marriage, Brad wondered if he and Ashley would make it through their first year,—let alone almost fifty. He couldn’t imagine his wife becoming such a part of his life that he mentioned her every time he talked. These days, Brad didn’t much like even to think about the lanky, sensual redhead who had driven him crazy with desire not so long ago. How could a few short months of marriage have turned Ashley from the object of his strongest yearnings into someone he dreaded to wake up to each morning?

“You sure are quiet this evening,” Charlie said, leaning on his shovel. “Wishing you’d gone over to Larry’s? Probably more fun than scraping up kitchen tile with an old geezer.”

A smile twitched the corners of Brad’s mouth. “Why don’t you come to Larry’s with me sometime, Mr. Moore? You could meet the guys from my crew. The music is great—there’s a new singer, a smokin’ little number who can really belt out the songs. Why not join me and the boys—have a few beers and relax with us? It might take your mind off things.”

“Oh, no thanks.” Charlie held up a hand. “My drinking days are long behind me. I found out the hard way that never did anybody any good.”

“Just a little now and then couldn’t hurt.”

“Humph. That’s what
you
say. You weren’t there to see the look on my wife’s face the night I got toasted and wound up at a strip joint.”

“A strip joint?” Brad couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “No way, Mr. Moore.”

“Oh yeah. Let me tell you something, kid. A woman may forgive, but she’ll never forget.”

“How did Mrs. Moore find out?”

“I don’t recollect exactly, but they
always
do. Trust me on that.” Charlie studied the floor for a moment. “You know, Esther reminded me about that incident not too long before she died.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Near the start of our marriage. I was young, self-centered, stupid. Esther was idealistic and starry-eyed about me—thought I was her knight in shining armor. Then I staggered home drunk and fell right off my pedestal. You don’t think a mistake you make at the beginning of the marriage will affect things down the road, but it will. It sure will.”

Charlie went back to shoveling tiles, and Brad joined him. At the sound of their scraping, the dogs woke up and played again, rolling around on the carpet and nipping at each other. Yappy loved to wait until Boofer had settled down again before leaping on the older dog’s back and forcing him to his feet.

As Brad tossed a shovelful of tiles into the large garbage can near the dining room table, he thought about Mr. Moore getting drunk and wandering into a strip club. While the image was kind of funny, it made him feel a little sick inside too.

Though Brad had hardly noticed the Moores when he and Ashley moved to Deepwater Cove, the older couple somehow became a part of their lives. In fact, the whole neighborhood seemed involved in what was going on with “the Hanes kids,” as they were called. Surrounded by so many siblings as a child, Brad had become something of a loner. He was good at teamwork—on the football field or the construction site—but he didn’t like people prying into his affairs.

Only … Mr. Moore’s presence never felt like an imposition. Brad respected the elderly man. When Mr. Moore called him
son
, the word settled into Brad’s chest like a bar of warm, glowing gold. Having grown up with a father too busy and too disinterested to give any of his children much attention, Brad had come to enjoy the evenings and weekends that he and Mr. Moore spent working on the little clapboard house.

In fact, the feeling Brad had developed for the white-haired gentleman went beyond respect. Brad admired Mr. Moore. He wanted to become like him—able to look back on a long, good life with a loving wife, some kids, and a steady career. A man who could hold his head up and look anyone in the eye.