Marriage Seasons 01 - It Happens Every Spring (18 page)

"Could your mom be sick?"

"She never gets migraines. She hasn't said anything to me about
feeling sick, and neither has Dad. He's hardly home, but who can
blame him? Mom rarely says a word to him, and when she does, he
snaps back at her. If I didn't know them better, I'd think they were
having trouble in their marriage. But not my mom and dad. You
know them. They've always been happy together. It's strange to
watch my parents these days, Patsy. It kind of scares me."

Measuring the ends of Jessica's hair to make sure they were
even, Patsy tried to think what to say next. She was certainly no
psychologist, but she did care deeply about the Hansens. "Have
you talked to your mother about what's bothering her?"

"Sure. She says she's disappointed in Justin and me for abandoning the family. But what does she think she's been working
toward all these years? Everything in Mom's life has been geared to
shaping us into capable, independent adults. And she has. Jennifer
is living in Africa and having a blast doing her missionary thing.
Justin ... well, he's making his own choices and somehow getting
through college too. I've got a full, busy life outside of Deepwater
Cove. I don't know why Mom isn't thrilled to death. She succeeded! We grew up, and we're turning out to be pretty awesome.
But instead of being glad, she goes around grumbling and pouting.
Plus, she's acting so weird about the basement."

"The basement?"

"At first, she didn't want me to see it. She said she'd packed away
all the pictures and trophies, and she was afraid it would upset me.
Like I care? I mean, what's the big deal about whether or not my seventh-grade volleyball-team picture is hanging on the wall? Or
those three rows of all our school photos? Who cares?"

"Evidently your mother does."

"But last summer she made a big deal about how she was excited
that I was finally going off to college so she would have time to do
her own things. She said she wanted to become a decorator and sell
painted furniture ... stuff like that. She knew this time was coming.

"But I guess she still wasn't ready for it," Patsy murmured. "She
misses you kids."

"I know, but honestly, how many years can a girl take tap dancing and ballet? And who gives a rip about Justin's football helmet?
Mom had it mounted on a special shelf with framed newspaper
clippings-and his only years on the football team were in junior
high! Anyway, the basement looks totally wonderful. She hired
some guy to paint it in different shades of green, and now she has a
place to sew and do crafts and work on her potted plants. I don't
know what the big deal was, but the minute we got downstairs to
look at the basement, Mom burst into tears. She started saying she
was sorry, and she didn't know what she was doing. I told her to
just forget it. The whole room looks great, and now she has something to work on that's all her own."

"She must be struggling a lot more than people realize."

"You can say that again. She sat down on a paint can and cried
for about ten minutes straight, saying `Why, oh why, oh why?' It
freaked me out bad. Dad was at work, so I went upstairs and made
her a cup of tea. Then she calmed down and that was that. But I'm
telling you, Patsy. It was bizarre."

They fell silent as Patsy worked the blow-dryer through Jessica's
long hair, brushing the golden locks until they gleamed. All the
while, she gazed across the room at Brenda Hansen and tried to
make sense of the things Jessica had told her.

A lot of issues worried Patsy these days. Pete with his chain saws
and weed whackers. The adult-movie store. And the usual batch of irritants-having to sweep and tidy after every client, suddenly
discovering that she was out of Earl Grey tea, cutting someone's
hair too short or not short enough. But of all the troubles that
weighed on her heart, Patsy realized she had begun to worry about
one more than any other....

Brenda Hansen was sitting across the room, dabbing the corners
of her eyes with a wadded tissue, and looking for all the world like a
woman hovering right on the verge of hopelessness.

Steve couldn't resist taking his daughter's hand as they strolled
down to the lake after the Easter service and lunch on Sunday.
Jessica had always been the baby of the family. No matter how tall
she grew or what amazing things she accomplished, he could
hardly see or think about his youngest child without reliving the
memory of a pudgy, pink-skinned infant with a wide toothless
smile and a round head topped by silky blonde wisps of hair. He
knew he would do anything in the world to protect her and make
her happy. Anything.

"Have you caught many fish lately, Dad?" Jessica asked as they
stepped onto the long community dock that served Deepwater
Cove. "I remember our crappie nights when Mom would fry up a
mess of fish and make hush puppies and coleslaw, and you would
play tag with us kids in the yard. That was fun."

Steve smiled at the memory. "Believe it or not, I haven't been
down to the lake but once this year," he said. "I miss fishing, but
with just your mom and me to eat them, it's hardly worth the
trouble."

"I always thought you enjoyed heading out into the lake in your
johnboat. You said it relaxed you, and we loved crappie night. I bet
Mom misses that. She says you never come home for dinner."

"Now, that's not right." He scowled, wondering what else Brenda
has told their daughter. "I come home when I can. Working in real estate is very different from selling auto parts at a nine-to-five store.
This job demands a lot of hours and an irregular schedule. One of
the reasons I've had so much success is the time I spend on my
clients."

"Mom says people are talking about you being voted Realtor of
the Year."

"That's possible. Your of dad has accomplished more than anyone would have thought possible for a boy with no college and a
blue-collar upbringing. Did Mom tell you I keep a standing reservation at the country club?"

"No, she just said you come home very late every night."

"That's because I break bread with the buyers and sellers who
have the greatest potential to bring a profit to my agency. It gives us
a chance to talk things over. Provides them with a higher level of
trust in me. And if they're on the fence about a decision, it allows
me time to use my powers of persuasion."

"Why don't you take Mom with you to dinner?" Jessica asked.
She settled cross-legged at the end of the dock. "She would enjoy
eating out, and maybe she could help you with your business."

"Your mother wouldn't want to eat at the country club, Jessica.
She's a homebody. You can see that by what she's put all her time
and energy into lately-the basement project. Mom likes to sew
and do crafts and keep the garden tidy, not hobnob with clients.
Besides, I couldn't write off her meals. You have to think about tax
deductions all the time in this business. Otherwise your overhead
can run you into the ground."

Steve hunkered down beside his daughter. Jessica's long blonde
hair lifted in the breeze and blew back from her beautiful face and
slender neck. What a gift she was. Their oldest, Jennifer, had always
been driven-the number-one child, eager to please, hard on herself and others for not meeting her high expectations. And, ever
since she was twelve years old, determined to do missions work in a
foreign country. Justin was the family clown. Goofy, not ambitious enough to please his parents, getting into a little trouble now and
then, but, all in all, a lot of fun to be around.

And then there was Jessica. Daddy's girl. As a toddler in her
pink-flannel footed pajamas, she had loved climbing into Steve's
lap and snuggling up to him while he read the newspaper or
watched TV. She clearly adored her father, clung to his leg when
she was afraid, and called out for him at the first sign of trouble.

Steve couldn't deny that a few years back he'd had trouble
accepting her budding interest in boys-and he had wanted to
knock the block off the first fellow who broke her tender heart. But
he had learned to let Jessica go, little by little, into her adult world.
Of the three Hansen children, Steve expected she would probably
turn out the happiest and most loving.

In that way, she was like her mother. Or at least, she was like her
mother used to be. Jessica had that same gentle, caring spirit that
had so captivated Steve when he first met Brenda. Where had it
gone? What had happened to his happy, delightful wife?

"Dad," Jessica asked, propping her chin on her knees, "are you
angry that I'm going to spend the week with josh and his family?"

"I'd love to have you at home, honey. But, no, I'm not mad. I
understand how you feel about him, and it's important that you
get to know his parents-especially if there's going to be any future
for the two of you."

"Mom is livid. She doesn't say much, but I can tell by looking at
her face. She hardly gave me a hug when I got home, and now she
won't meet my eyes when I try to tell her something. It's like she's
so angry that she can't even look at me."

"She's not angry, sweetie. Your mother is just having a hard
time adjusting to the empty nest," Steve said. "At least, I think
that's what it is."

"I thought she might be missing us kids, but the longer I'm
around her, the less sure I feel about it. I'm confused by how she's
acting. Look what she did to the basement. If she was grieving for
us, she would have kept all that junk on the walls, and she'd be calling us every day and e-mailing all the time. I mean, I'm glad she
gets to do what she wants with the basement, but it feels kind of like
she's the one who has gone away. It's almost as though she erased
Jennifer, Justin, and me. The old basement wasn't important ...
not really. What bothers me is Mom's attitude. I mean, she painted
the dining-room chairs and made new slipcovers for the sofas.
Now the basement is green, and the TV and sectional are gone. The
house hardly looks the same as when we lived there-yet she's
upset that we don't come home more often. I can't figure out
what's gotten into Mom."

Steve let out a breath and studied the lake. People in Missouri
loved to say that if you didn't like the weather, stick around,
because it would soon change. But this Easter Sunday had been
perfect at sunrise, through lunch, and now in the early afternoon as
Steve sat on the dock with his daughter. A shade of deep teal, the
water sparkled and lapped at the sides of the pleasure boats and
pontoons in their slips. Occasionally in the distance, a fish broke
the surface, leaping in an arc of silver before gliding back down
into the cool depths. Bass, crappie, paddlefish, sunfish, catfish, and
several other species thrived in the many coves and inlets of the
winding lake.

Lake of the Ozarks was becoming a major holiday destination
for the Midwest. Fishermen raced about in their glittery bass boats
or set out trotlines. Jet Skis and all manner of other craft cut
through the waves, towing wakeboards, inner tubes, and just about
anything else that would float. As spring warmed into summer, the
whole place came to life. Shops bustled, restaurants had lines of
people waiting outside their doors, and the real-estate market
heated up with the temperature.

"Mom's doing good things to the house," Steve told his daughter. "I've looked at hundreds of homes, and I can assure you I
wouldn't want to move anywhere else. Deepwater Cove was the
perfect place to raise you kids. Your mom and I have been happy
together here. We've got a good church and lots of nice neighbors and plenty of friends. Mom is just doing what it takes to adjust to
the changes in her life, that's all. She'll be fine the next time you see
her."

Jessica's green eyes were solemn as she faced him. "Are you sure,
Dad? Are you guys okay? Because I've hardly been home, and it's
like you two are always snapping at each other."

Steve's heart sank as he gazed into the perfect face of his beloved
daughter. How could he tell her that there were problems between
himself and her mother?

"We're a little tense," he said finally. "Your mom was disappointed not to have you and Justin here for the holiday. And she's
been kind of testy with me lately."

"Testy? How come?"

"I really don't know. I can't think of anything I'm doing to upset
her. I'm bringing in good money, paying for you kids to go to college, setting up retirement accounts-the whole nine yards. She
did a fantastic job raising her children, and now she's got a work
space geared to give her plenty to do with her time. But ... well,
she's struggling."

"Why? Is it because you're always gone?"

"I'm not always gone, honey. Did your mother tell you that?"

"Actually, I haven't seen much of you since I came home. You
got in late last night, and then we had church this morning, and
this is the first time we've really talked." She paused and studied
the rumpled water for a moment. "You know, Dad, maybe Mom
misses you."