Marriage Seasons 01 - It Happens Every Spring (34 page)

"That's enough, Cody," Brenda said as Steve attempted to push
him back into the shower. "It's bad manners to let people see you
without any clothes. Now, get back in there until we shut the door.
Then put these things on, and you can come out again." She
handed over the new outfit.

Yanking the curtain closed to block Cody, Steve stepped into
the bedroom and shut the bathroom door behind him. He blew
out a breath as he held out Cody's rags. "You probably ought to
burn these. They smell."

Brenda took the clothing into the kitchen and dug in the pantry
for a plastic grocery bag. She could hear Steve behind her, his footsteps on the tile floor. He sounded so normal, so much at home.
For the hundredth time since her confession, she shuddered at the
enormity of what she had been ready to risk-the loss of Steve's
stability, his stalwart practicality, his comforting presence.

During his absence, remorse had driven Brenda back to her
knees. She had finally admitted-to herself and to the Lord-that
she'd chosen to distance herself from Him and from the support
and teaching of her local church. What a mistake that had been.
She prayed that God would forgive her for wandering from the
path she had chosen to follow so long ago. She begged the Lord to
change Steve's mind and bring him home to her. The past Sunday,
she had returned to LAMB Chapel and asked God to help her
understand how to rebuild what she and Steve had almost
destroyed.

But then her husband had come back with all his rage and hostility tied up in a weapon that he had already flung at her more than
once. What would he say to her now? How would he begin their
ending?

Praying for strength, she stuffed Cody's old T-shirt into the bag.
As she gathered up the jeans, she instinctively checked the pockets.
Years of doing laundry had taught her to expect coins, stones, keys,
wallets, even fishing worms. This time her hand closed on a piece
of paper.

"There's a note in Cody's pocket," she told Steve. He stepped to
the counter beside her. Grimy and worn, the page nearly tore as she
unfolded it.

"`Dear Friend,"' she read aloud. " `I know you have found my
son, Cody Goss, or you would not be reading this letter. Cody is
backward, but he never means any mischief. His mama died when
he was born, and I have had the sole care of the boy ever since. I did
not send him to school lest the other children tease him. Cody
knows his numbers pretty good, and he can say some of the alphabet. He can't read, but he has learned lots of Scriptures. He can also
clean things up spic and span. Cody is a Christian, and you can
trust him. He don't steal nor tell lies. I have got cancer that is going
to kill me pretty quick, and I don't want Cody to watch me die. He
cries real easy. I checked all over for a place he could live. But they
all said he's twenty-one, and he's going to have to make his way. So
I am putting him out on the road for Jesus to watch over, and then
I will head for the nearest hospital wherein I shall cross the Jordan
River and pass on to glory. I don't have nothing to leave Cody, not
even my car. It is plumb shot after all these years. Please be kind to
my son and don't harm him. Sincerely, William Goss.'"

Brenda laid the wrinkled note on the kitchen counter and
turned to Steve. "Look at the date," she said. "This letter is almost
two years old. Cody's father must have died by now. I guess ...
well, I imagined that somehow we could find him ... we could fix it
all. I thought if we took care of Cody and helped him, eventually
things would ... things would be okay again."

Tears welled in her eyes. She had cherished the same hope for
herself and Steve, Brenda realized. Somehow, someway, the problems would fix themselves. Cody's father would reappear. All memories of Nick LeClair would vanish. Steve and Brenda would
be just like they had always been. Together. Happy. United.

"Why are you crying?" Steve asked. His voice had softened a little. "You didn't expect Cody's life to be easy, did you? The kid was a
mess when he showed up here. His father is gone, buried who
knows where. Cody's too old to become a ward of the state, and
he's way beyond anything a foster family could do. I tried to tell
you ... everyone tried to tell you that Cody was a homeless man,
not a little boy who could be rescued. He's just like the other destitute, down-and-out people who sleep on the streets of cities and
towns all over the world. He needs a place to live. A job. Transportation. If you want to make Cody's life better, it's going to take a lot
of work."

Brenda nodded. "Good things take work. I'm willing to put out
the effort to help Cody. I raised the kids through all their ups and
downs. I took care of our family-fed and clothed everyone, drove
endless miles to ball games and dance lessons, kept up with homework. And us ..."

She looked up at her husband, recalling Esther's words of advice
and encouragement. "I did my part to make a good marriage,
Steve. I worked very hard at it. I want you to know that I've had a
lot of time to think and pray and cry. .. and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to put us back together. Maybe not the way we were.
But maybe better."

Steve focused on the lake, gleaming orange and blue in a sunset
that gilded the living-room windows. For a moment he said nothing, his jaw twitching and the vein in his neck pulsing. Brenda
could feel his anger. So many years together had taught her to read
his silences as well as his words. He was furious. He hadn't forgiven
her. He wouldn't be willing to try. She could see the message in the
stiff set of his shoulders and the fists clenched at his sides.

Finally, he turned to her. "You betrayed me, Brenda. Don't try
to tell me it was nothing just because you didn't sleep with that man. You wanted to. You would have. You gave your heart to him.
You broke our marriage into pieces."

"I know," she said softly.

"And don't try to rationalize it by blaming me for working too
much. You know what I do. You've been to my office, and you've
seen the load I carry. When I left the auto-parts business, you supported me. Everything I did got your blessing. And then you
turned on me. You started resenting me and treating me like dirt.
You wouldn't talk to me or touch me."

He gritted his teeth. "You let him touch you," he ground out.
"You let that man hold you in his arms when you wouldn't even
look at me. I needed you, Brenda. I needed you in our bed at night,
and you turned me away. I needed you to be there for me when I
came home from work-to sit on my lap and hug me the way you
used to. But you wouldn't come near me."

She sniffled, struggling to hold back the words of recrimination
that rose inside her. I needed you too, but you weregone! she wanted
to shout at Steve. You weren't there for me, so why should I be there
for you? You abandoned me! You ignored me! You deserted your own
wife!

But she had said those things already-too many times. If Steve
had heard them, he knew how she felt. And if he hadn't heard her
before, he wasn't likely to listen now. Now was not the time to cast
her own hurts on him. She owed him this chance to vent his rage at
her. She deserved everything he said.

"You know what kind of man I am," Steve said, fastening his
eyes on her. "You've known me since high school. I needed a wife
who would be there for me, always by my side, holding me up. I
married you because you were the woman whose touch I needed. I
promised to take care of you and provide for you and our children,
and I have. I kept up my part of the deal. But you just blew it off.
You treated my love and faithfulness like trash!"

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, brushing her damp cheeks. She
recalled her hope of rebuilding a summertime marriage and Patsy's tiny impatiens that had begun to sprout from the seeds of past years.
"I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you and deceived you. I
realize I was disloyal to our wedding vows. I can't defend myself, and
I won't try, Steve. I deserve your anger. But I wish ... I really wish
you could find a way to forgive me."

"Why should I? Give me one good reason."

"I'll give you three good reasons," she said immediately. "Our
children. It would kill them if we divorced."

"The kids don't live here anymore, Brenda. They have their own
lives, even though you haven't figured that out. They don't need us
or our happy little home. Most of their friends have parents who've
been divorced. If we went our separate ways, it might rock their
boat a little, but it wouldn't kill them."

"What about your parents? And my dad?"

"Same thing. They'd be disappointed, but that's no reason to
maintain this sham of a marriage."

"It wasn't always a sham. We loved each other. We could learn
to do that again. But not if you won't forgive me. If you can't do it
for our family or for me, then do it for yourself. Don't let my failure
make you bitter and angry, Steve. And please ... please don't give
up on us.

"Hey! There's my daddy's letter!" Cody padded in his stocking
feet into the kitchen. "You found it in the pocket of my pants. I
almost forgot about it. Daddy wrote it before he put me out of the
car. He said I was twenty-one, and it was time to make my way."

Brenda turned toward the voice and was stunned at the sight of
the young man. Cody positively gleamed. His hair had begun to
grow back. His blue eyes sparkled, his cheeks glowed pink, and his
freshly shaved jaw looked as smooth as silk. In the new T-shirt and
jeans, he looked almost like one of Justin's friends-maybe even a
little better, to tell the truth. Cody had an appointment with the
dentist next week, and he'd started using the toothbrush Brenda
bought him.

"My daddy wrote that I'm a good boy," Cody announced, pointing to the letter. "He read it to me. He said I'm a Christian,
and I don't lie or steal, and I know how to keep things span. I can
do my numbers and say my Bible verses too. And my daddy
crossed the river and went to glory, so we won't see each other
again until the great by-and-by. Do you know when that is? I really
miss him. We used to eat hot dogs together."

"I think it will be a while," Brenda said. "The main thing to
remember is that your daddy loved you very much, and he was
proud of you."

Cody nodded. "After he drove away and left me behind, I didn't
know what to do. I cried. I walked on the road, and I walked into
towns. People shouted at me. One time some boys threw rocks at
me. Another time, some men got me into a fight, and they pushed
me onto the ground and hit me hard. It hurt a lot. I didn't like
being alone without my daddy. But then the storm came, and I
found you and the pink cat. You're a Christian."

Brenda rubbed her hand up and down Cody's thin arm. "It's all
right now. We'll figure something out."

"Okay," Cody said.

"Why are you carrying your shoes? You should put them on."

"They have strings, see? I don't know how to tie things. I never
got the hang of it."

Taking the shoes, Brenda pointed out a spot on the kitchen
floor. They sat down together, and she pulled a sneaker onto his
foot. "I'll do this one," she told him, "while you copy me on the
other one."

"Okay," Cody grunted as he tugged his foot into the second
shoe.

"Take the two ends like this," Brenda said, demonstrating.
"They're called shoelaces. Now cross them over and then under.
Now, pull."

Cody fumbled with the laces, his fingers tangling together and
getting caught in his jeans, until finally Brenda helped him make
the first tie. Recalling hours spent teaching her children this very skill, Brenda worked with him on making loops and finishing the
bow. When they looked up at each other at last, Cody had created
something of a loose knot that no doubt would come undone
within three or four steps. But he was beside himself with joy.

"I did it!" he exclaimed. "Hey, I did it!" He threw his arms
around Brenda, nearly knocking her over on the kitchen floor.

She laughed and ran her hand over his stubby hair. "How about
some of our favorite chocolate cake?"

"I love chocolate cake! In triangles or squares?"

"Squares, of course. That's the way we like it best."

Smiling, she stood and helped Cody to his feet. As she turned
toward the cupboard, she saw Steve standing in the doorway where
the kitchen met the foyer. He had turned away from her. Head
bowed and shoulders bent, he was rubbing his eyes.

"Steve?" Brenda stepped to his side and laid her hand on his
arm. He felt cold, trembling. "Are you all right?"

He lifted his head, and she could see that his eyes were red. "You
always used to do that," he managed, his voice husky. "With the
kids ... you helped them learn to tie their shoes."

"I miss them," she admitted. "It's been hard for me since Jessica
left. They're all gone now, and ... and I'm lonely."

Nodding, he covered her hand with his own. "I don't know how
to forgive you, Brenda. I can't figure out how to stop thinking
about what happened. How to let it go. How to get rid of the
anger.

"I've been angry too, and it's not a good thing. It's been eating
me up inside. I felt so empty."

"Is that why you gave someone else your heart?"

"Maybe." She closed her eyes, wishing she could erase everything she had done. "Probably."

"You were angry with me for being so busy?"

"For being gone." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I realize it
doesn't make sense, Steve, but I rejected you because I felt abandoned by you. A few minutes ago, you said you married me because you needed my touch. Well, I married you because I
needed your presence. I've missed you. This fall, with the house so
empty, it began to feel like we never talked or went on walks
together or sat on the sofa in each other's arms."

"But that's what I've been wanting."

"Me too."

He swallowed hard. "I don't know if I can forgive, Brenda. It's
like you stuck a knife in my heart and turned the blade until you
made sure I was dead. The idea of us ever being that way again ...
the way we were ... seems impossible."