Marriage Seasons 01 - It Happens Every Spring (19 page)

Steve shook his head in frustration. "She does complain about
that. But there's no other way to do my job, and I'm not giving that
up just so I can sit at home and watch TV with your mother."

"I think she's lonely."

"Well, I've told her to go talk to Pastor Andrew at church. He'll
have some good local resources to help her through this-counselors, doctors, whatever she needs."

"Maybe she needs you, Dad."

"Jessica, honey, I haven't gone anywhere. I'm right beside your
mother in our bed every night, and I'm right there in the house
when we get up in the morning. If you want to know the truth, I
think it might have something to do with the change of life."

"Dad, she's forty-five."

"It can happen that early. I read up on it online the other day. A
lot of the symptoms sound like your mother. Mood swings, irritability, depression-that kind of thing. I'm thinking a doctor could
give her some sort of a pill."

Jessica slid her feet out of her sandals and dipped her toes in the
water. They fell silent, listening to the cries of the gulls and watching the ravens soar overhead.

Finally Jessica spoke again. "Dad, I think I might want to marry
Josh," she said in a hushed voice. "I love him. And he says he loves
me. I realize we haven't been dating long, but some things you just
know. All my life, I said I wanted to have a marriage like you and
mom had. But what I'm seeing now scares me. I don't ever want to
end up angry and hurt and depressed."

"Marriage has its ups and downs, Jessica. You know that. Things
can't be rosy all the time. The feeling of being in love lasts awhile,
but then it fades. What you're left with is the commitment you've
made to each other. Sometimes, when troubles crop up, that's
about all you've got. You remember that you made a vow before
God, and you stick with it. Eventually, things sort themselves out,
and the marriage gets better again. Once in a while, you even get
back to that rosy feeling. You realize how much you love the person you married, and you can't imagine why God chose to bless
you so richly."

"And at other times, you want to throw her in the lake?"

Steve chuckled. "No, you just bear it. You plow through the
days, one after the other, until everything resolves itself."

"So things always do work out?" Her voice sounded so fragile, as
if she needed reassurance from her daddy that life would somehow
be beautiful, no matter what.

"Things don't always work out," he told her honestly. "You
know there are plenty of divorces in this world. Christians and
non-Christians alike have trouble keeping their relationships
going. There's no magic wand, Jessica. But if you remember your
vow, if you keep your focus on Christ, and if you just stand firm
through the storms, you'll make it."

"I think there's more to it than that," Jessica said, standing suddenly and dusting off the back of her jeans. "Mom used to tell me
that marriage took work. But you're saying it just takes endurance.
Well, I'm with Mom. I love you, Dad, but you had better start
doing your part to put this relationship back together. If you don't,
then Jennifer, Justin, and I will be like all the other kids who leave
home and their parents suddenly get divorced."

"Divorced? Now, Jessica-"

"That's right, Dad," she cut in, her voice suddenly harsh. "If you
guys don't fix this, then one of these days, you'll go one way and
Mom will go another, and it will be just like what happened to my
roommate, Chrissie. She asked her parents why they got divorced,
and they told her they stopped loving each other. They said maybe
they never should have gotten married in the first place." By now,
tears were trickling down Jessica's cheeks. "And you know what
Chrissie said? She said she feels like if her parents made a mistake
in getting married, then that makes her a mistake. I don't want to
be a mistake, Dad! I want you and Mom to stop yelling at each
other and do what it takes to love each other again."

"Jessica, honey, you're overreacting." He reached for his daughter as she darted past him and jogged down the dock toward shore.
He called after her. "Mom and I are fine. We really are fine!"

"Then take her to the country club for dinner once in a while!"
she yelled back over her shoulder.

Steve watched as his daughter threw open the front door of the
house and ran inside. He stood and hurried down the dock. But
before he could get back to his own yard, Jessica emerged again,
threw a bag into her car, and climbed in.

Brenda appeared on the porch, her face ashen. "Jessica, wait!"
she called. "Honey, come back! What's the matter, sweetheart?"

Steve stared after his daughter as her car backed out onto the
road and spun off toward the highway. Looking toward the house,
he met Brenda's icy glare. Her eyes narrowed for a moment; then
she turned on her heel and stormed back inside.

After church, Patsy Pringle usually joined a group of families who
were headed to a local restaurant. She had always been welcomed
as part of the LAMB Chapel mix, and she didn't mind being a solo
act. With the large number of people, she just blended in, sitting by
a child or with one of her clients from Just As I Am.

But Easter was different. Most people went home or to
Grandma's house for roast chicken or baked ham, mashed potatoes
and gravy, green beans cooked with bacon, and gelatin salads loaded
with fruit cocktail. Patsy remembered the days when her own family
had gathered around the dinner table on a Sunday after church for a
big homemade meal. Being the youngest, she had enjoyed the chatter and storytelling, the aroma of good Southern-style food, and the
feel of Mama's starched white napkin on her lap.

But then Daddy had died, the kids moved away, and Patsy was
left to tend a woman who didn't remember ever having children.
When Alzheimer's disease finally took Mama, Patsy was long past
the stage of pining for a big family meal. She was doing her best just
to pay the utility bills and keep groceries on the table.

Though she was in a lot better shape financially now, Patsy had
no desire to cook a large Sunday dinner just for herself. So she
joined the group from church. And on Easter, Thanksgiving, and
Christmas, she had learned to enjoy eating by herself at a restaurant. She usually took a book and read while she ate.

She didn't think about it much anymore, which was why the
arrival of Pete Roberts at Aunt Mamie's Good Food in Camdenton
that Sunday just about shocked the pants off her. He had been at
church, of course. Even the folks who claimed to be Christians but
didn't show a shred of evidence to prove it went to church on
Christmas and Easter.

Pete had been attending ever since he moved to the lake area,
and Patsy had surreptitiously noted where he sat. After church, she
usually said hello to him and moved on to join her dinner companions. But today he showed up at Aunt Mamie's not five minutes
behind her.

Having just been seated in a booth inside the nearly empty restaurant, Patsy was reaching for her menu when she saw the front
door open and Pete Roberts step inside. He looked around, spotted her, smiled, and made straight for her booth.

"Looks like we're in the same boat," he said, taking off his cap to
reveal a head of thick brown hair. "Mind if I join you, Patsy?"

Well, she did mind. She was right at the most exciting point in
her novel, and she had planned on eating a quiet, leisurely meal
while she read.

"Have a seat," she told Pete, putting on her polite voice. She
almost asked him if he'd brought a chain saw along to destroy the
atmosphere at Aunt Mamie's Good Food, but she managed to keep
her mouth shut.

"What did you think of the church service?" he asked, sliding
into the booth. "I think Pastor Andrew gives a good sermon. We
never went to church when I was a boy, and I only went a couple of
times with my first wife. But when I moved to the lake, everyone
was talking about LAMB Chapel and how friendly it was, so I decided to visit-seeing as how I'm working on changing my life
and all. Sure enough, I liked it a lot. I'm even thinking about giving
the Sunday morning Bible study a try."

Patsy hadn't heard Pete say so much all at one time before, and
for a moment, she just stared at him. Once again, it startled her a
little bit to discover what a nice-looking face appeared to be hidden
under that big beard and mop of shaggy hair. He had kind eyes and
a friendly smile, and for some reason, she couldn't quite summon
up all the anger and frustration she wanted to pour out on him.

"You never went to church as a boy?" she asked. "Where did you
grow up?"

"Halfway. It's down south near Bolivar. I always said that was a
fitting place for me to come from. Halfway. I'm halfway smart,
halfway decent-looking, halfway polite, and halfway civilized. The
other half ain't so good."

Patsy laughed. "I guess it all depends on which part is winning
out."

"For most of my life, the bad half won. But like I told you, I quit
drinking a few years ago, and that set me to working on myself. I
think the better half might be coming close to taking over."

"And which half is it that keeps starting up his chain saws and
weed whackers next door to my salon, making an infernal racket?"

"Does it bother you that much?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she asked, leaning
across the table. "Are you halfway deaf, too?"

At that, Pete threw back his head and gave a hearty guffaw. "All
right, all right. I'll have you know I've been working on a solution.
Since I'm only halfway smart, it's taken me a while. But I'm about
there."

"I sure hope so." Patsy studied the menu a moment as their
waitress brought ice water and napkin-wrapped silverware.

"I'll have the roast-beef dinner, please," she told the young
woman. "And no dessert. Just a cup of hot tea at the end."

"Sounds good," Pete said. "I'll have the same. Only I want a slice
of that pecan pie in your display case."

When the waitress left their table, Patsy realized she was now
going to have to be alone with Pete Roberts for a good hour. She
had already blurted out her annoyance about the noise he made
next door, and she couldn't think of another subject she cared to
talk to him about.

How long had it been since she'd gone out on a date or even been
seated across from a man at a restaurant? The only thing in her life
was Just As I Am, and how interesting could that be to a baitand-tackle-shop owner? Still, she did talk to men while cutting their
hair, and she ought to be able to think of something to say.

"Do you like marigolds?" Pete asked before she could come up
with a question of her own.

"Marigolds? Well ... no, to be honest; I think they stink."

"I agree. Good. We won't have any marigolds, then. How do
you feel about petunias?"

"What are you talking about, Pete?"

"I thought I'd build some flower boxes for the window fronts of
all the stores on the strip. But I want to be the one who chooses the
plants and keeps the weeds out, the dirt damp, and the flowers
deadheaded. I was thinking about using reds and yellows with a little bit of orange thrown in. What would you say to that?"

"Did you talk to the landlord about putting up flower boxes?"

"Yep, I called on him for that purpose. But then, of course, I
worked in a few questions and thoughts about the adult-video
store. Between you and me, Patsy, I think we've got enough signatures on our petitions now to make him think twice. Trouble is,
he's determined to rent the space, and he's got a fish on his hook.
So if we don't come up with another person to fill that slot, we'll
probably get stuck with a pornography shop."

"I can't think of anyone who's looking for space in Tranquility.
It's just not a hot spot for the tourist trade like Osage Beach. Even
Camdenton has a lot to offer."

"I figure if I dress up the front with my flower boxes, that ought
to attract attention. The parking area gets a lot of sun, so I'm considering geraniums, petunias, gerbera daisies, and blanketflowers.
How does that sound?"

Patsy struggled to hide her surprise that this shaggy sheepdog of
a man with grease under his fingernails was interested in flower
gardening. She smiled as best she could. "That sounds really nice,
Pete."

"I'll probably put in some small mums," he continued. "That
way when fall comes, the boxes will still look pretty. And then we
can set out pansies for the winter. There's nothing like a bed of yellow pansies to draw the eye."

"Pansies in winter? I didn't know any flower could survive a
Missouri freeze."

"Oh, sure. People always make a mistake and plant their pansies
in the spring. When the first heat of summer hits, those poor pansies just wither right up and die. Pansies love the cold. You need to
put them in your flower beds in early fall. Unless there's a hard
freeze that lasts for several weeks, they'll just zip right on through
winter and into early spring, smiling up just as sweet as you
please."