Marriage Seasons 01 - It Happens Every Spring (4 page)

The fellow on the porch was as skinny as some old alley cat. He
wore a yellow T-shirt with the word Cheerios printed on the front
in bold black letters. His brown beard and curly hair hung long and
tangled. Charlie would have considered going home for his gun if
the man hadn't looked so goofy sitting there swinging his legs back
and forth like a little kid.

Flipping open the glove compartment in his golf cart, Charlie
took out a can of Mace. A mail carrier knew to be careful at all
times, no matter what. He slipped the can into his pocket and gingerly stepped down onto the wet road.

As Charlie walked toward the Hansen house, the swinging
stranger looked up.

"Hi, I'm Cody!" the man called out. "Guess what. She's got
chocolate cake inside! Squares, not triangles."

Wary, shoulders tensed the way they did when he was facing a growling dog, Charlie stepped onto the porch. "Cold night to be
without a coat," he remarked, keeping his voice casual. When the
stranger didn't respond, Charlie asked, "So, is Steve Hansen
home?"

"I'm Cody!" The bearded man stopped swinging and held out
his empty plate. "Look. It was chicken and potatoes and green
beans. And more chocolate cake. I ate two pieces, so you know
what that means."

Charlie gripped the Mace can in his pocket. "No. What does
that mean?"

"It means she's a Christian. Because my daddy told me that anyone might give you food, but only a Christian would give you
chocolate cake, too."

"I see." This guy clearly wasn't all there. Anyone could tell that
from the get-go. But was he dangerous? "So, who gave you the
cake?"

"Her." He pointed toward the Hansens' front door. "She's a
Christian even though Jesus isn't in the basement."

"How 'bout that. Well, I believe I'll just check on her, then.
Make sure she's okay after the big storm."

Charlie carefully crossed the porch. The man might look like a
half-drowned alley cat, but he could turn out to be as mean as a
junkyard dog. You never could tell. Charlie pressed the doorbell.

For a moment, the horrible thought crossed his mind that
something might have happened to Brenda Hansen. She was without a doubt the prettiest female in Deepwater Cove-except for
Esther, who would always be the most beautiful girl in the world to
Charlie. But Brenda was young-probably still in her forties-and
she had spunky, short blonde hair and sparkly green eyes. She was
always out working in the garden or washing windows or mowing.
The Hansen home never collected the large, dangling black spiders
that inhabited the eaves and screened porches on most of the lake
houses. Brenda took her broom to them every night, and she made
sure her driveway was swept and her porch was neat as a pin. Steve never helped her with that kind of thing anymore, not since his
work kept him so busy. Charlie sure would hate to think Brenda
was in trouble without her husband around to protect her.

Just as he was working up a full head of worry, Brenda emerged
through the foyer with a mop in one hand and a wet pink cat under
her arm. She peered through the window that was set into her front
door.

Spotting Charlie, she put the cat down and gave him a bright
smile. "Hey, there, Charlie!" Brenda said as she opened the door.
She glanced over his shoulder at the porch swing. "I guess you've
met Cody."

Charlie nodded and quirked an eyebrow at her. "You okay?"

"I am now that the lights are back on."

"Want me to call the sheriff?"

She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and spoke in a
low voice. "I don't think so. Have you ever seen him before?"

"No, but folks do come out of the woods sometimes, you know.
They can live in the hills and hollers for years without attracting a
bit of attention, and then something brings them back into the
public. The sheriff would take him off your hands. I really think
you should notify the authorities, Brenda."

"Oh, here comes Steve," she said. As a sleek silver hybrid car
pulled into the Hansens' driveway, the garage door rose. "He
missed all the excitement."

"Steve won't want someone like that hanging around Deepwater," Charlie predicted. "Might drive down real-estate values,
you know. That husband of yours is sure stirring up things with his
business. Heard he hired a secretary and took on a couple of
agents. You folks have got such a pretty house here that-"

"Thank you, Charlie." Brenda cut him off as her husband
walked up from behind her.

Steve Hansen had come into the house through the garage, and
Charlie felt surprised to see him suddenly there. Steve peered
around his neighbor to have a look at the stranger.

"Hey, Charlie," he said, putting his arm across his wife's shoulders. "Quite a storm, huh? Who's that on the porch?"

"It's Cody." Brenda spoke as if a skinny man wearing a Cheerios
T-shirt and sitting on her porch swing were the commonest thing
in the world. She shrugged out from under Steve's arm. "I fed him
dinner. He likes my chocolate cake."

"What?" Steve stared at her in disbelief. "Who is he?"

"Cody," Brenda repeated. She smiled at Charlie again. "Thanks
for checking on me. It's nice to know someone cares."

Charlie glanced at the man on the porch. Cody was licking his
plate. "I guess I'll get on home to Esther, then," he said. "Give me a
call if you need anything."

"We're fine." Brenda tilted her head a little, the way she used to
when she was talking to one of her kids. "Everything's fine, Charlie.
It really is. Just fine."

Gripping his can of Mace, Charlie stepped past Cody and
started back to his golf cart. He might ask Esther for three marshmallows tonight.

The next morning, Patsy Pringle almost lost her temper. She was
repairing a set of acrylic fingernails for a regular client at the time.
It seemed that no one who came into the Just As I Am beauty shop
could talk about anything but the stranger who had appeared on
the Hansens' front porch during the storm. By ten o'clock, Patsy
had just about had it up to here. It was all she could do to focus on
her work.

Some people said the man's name was Cody. Others called him
Colby. One woman kept calling him Cory. He had been described
as everything from a Mexican to a hippie to a hillbilly to a drunk.
He had bushy black hair, long brown hair, filthy blond hair. He was
fat, skinny, tall, short, young, old. He was creepy, menacing, sweet,
innocent, and dumb. If Esther Moore hadn't come in for a redo on
her set-and-style this morning, Patsy would have concluded the
man was a figment of everyone's imagination.

Now Esther sat over in the tearoom and repeated the story to
anyone who would listen. A sunny, glass-windowed area on the far
side of the salon provided three tables, plenty of chairs, a wide choice of teas, and countless goodies for Patsy's clientele. She had
planned it as a place of relaxation, quiet reflection, and spiritual
refreshment. Esther and the women gathered around her had
other ideas.

Several people claimed to have seen the fellow during the storm.
Some said he had been spotted in the lake area even before that.
Evidently he had knocked on quite a few doors during the rain, but
only Charlie had actually talked to the man. This made Esther
queen of the henhouse, forcing the others to gather around her for
grains of information they could take home to their own little nests
and savor in private.

"Property values will go right down the drain," she was telling
two of the Deepwater Cove widows who had joined her for a cup of
Earl Grey. "You can't have someone like that wandering around
your neighborhood. It's just not right."

Patsy fought the urge to march right over to the radio and turn
up the volume. She didn't play Christian music at the shop for
nothing. In the local newspaper, Patsy pointedly advertised the
Just As I Am salon as "a faith-based beauty experience." On the
sound system, she alternated a Christian station with CDs of
Christian recording artists, including her favorite local trio, Color
of Mercy. A stack of free pamphlets explaining the path to salvation waited by the cash register for anyone who wanted one.
Uplifting, decent women's magazines filled the shelves in the waiting area. She had painted the tearoom a soothing pale lavender and
had hung lace curtains at the windows. A hand-lettered copy of
Jesus' words in Matthew 11:28-"Come unto me, all ye that labor
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest"-hung right over the
hot-water urn.

Anyone would have thought that so much Christianity floating
around would keep the gossip to a minimum. But no. Every day, in
walked the women buzzing about this, that, and the other. Young
Ashley Hanes would arrive for her manicure and start jabbering
about her husband's buddies and all the trouble they were causing their wives. Kim Finley brought her twins in for haircuts and the
next thing you knew, she was discussing the women in her office,
sharing details from their lives. And then there was Esther Moore.
It didn't matter how old or how young they were, Patsy mused;
these women took one step inside Just As I Am and started jabbering and squawking and fussing like a bunch of blue jays around a
birdbath.

Patsy had opened for business when she was twenty-five, and not
too long after that, she had been just about ready to take down her
sign and close the shop. Then one of her regulars mentioned how
safe and comfortable she always felt at the salon. It was a place to
unwind. A place to get things off your chest. A place where you
could talk, and people would listen. More than that, at Just As I Am,
you always knew someone would care. That had been ten years ago,
and Patsy had come to tolerate-if not enjoy-the chatter.

Today she gritted her teeth and concentrated on the French
manicure she was applying while the women discussed this latest
development in the neighborhood. They not only talked about the
stranger and how his presence affected the area, but every woman
wanted to offer an opinion as to what she would have done if he
had stood on her front porch. There would have been calls to the
sheriff, shotguns taken down from racks, and hostile dogs let out to
run the fellow off. No one could imagine actually opening the door
the way Brenda Hansen had. Or talking to him. Or, heaven forbid,
feeding him.

Only when the entire salon suddenly fell silent did Patsy look up
to find that Brenda herself had walked in the front door. You
would have thought it was the Easter bunny. Blow-dryers went
dead, chatter ceased, and everyone turned to gawk.

"Well, hey there, Brenda," Patsy greeted her. She flipped on the
dryer over her client's wet nails. "I haven't seen you in ages.
Where've you been keeping yourself?"

"I've been.. . busy."

Brenda was a quiet woman these days-not like when her kids had been at home. Cute, bouncy, spunky, she had always been the
sort of woman people admired and sought out as a friend. She
could do any kind of artsy-crafty thing, she loved children, and she
kept her flower gardens so pretty that folks were always stopping
by to compliment her. And sweet ... she was so sweet that if you
kissed her cheek, you'd taste sugar.

But this past fall, Patsy had noticed that Brenda seemed to be
dragging around as though something had let the wind out of her
sails. Unlike in past years, she didn't bother to rake up the leaves
from her big maples and oaks. No one ever saw her sweeping the
front porch anymore, and she hadn't decorated her house with the
usual Christmas zeal-no candy canes lining the driveway or
strings of white lights in the bare tree branches.

What troubled Patsy the most was that recently Brenda had
kind of let herself go. Today she was wearing a pair of old faded
jeans and a raggedy sweater. She hadn't bothered with makeup,
and her hair was downright shaggy.

"You want a trim?" Patsy asked hopefully.

"Could you work me in?"

"Let me take a look at the book." Patsy crossed to the desk where
her stylists listed their appointments. She scanned her schedule for
the day. "If you'll give me ten minutes to finish these nails and tidy
up my station, Brenda, I can do you myself. You want the usual?"

"Yes, please."

As Brenda settled in the waiting area, Esther approached, carrying a teacup. Esther was a dear woman, Patsy knew, but she sure
could pry.

Wearing a motherly expression, Esther sat down beside Brenda.
"Charlie said you had quite an adventure last night."

"I lost my electricity," Brenda told her. "But I guess everyone
did."

"It took Charlie forever to find his flashlight. I thought he never
would get out to the golf cart to go check on the neighbors. He told
me he was pretty worried about you."

"When the lightning hit, Ozzie jumped up and landed in a paint
tray. I'm doing my dining-room chairs in a pink-and-yellow
plaid."

Esther never missed a beat. "Yes, but what about that man?
Charlie said the fellow like to scared him to death."