Marriage Seasons 01 - It Happens Every Spring (5 page)

"That was Cody." Brenda turned a page of the magazine in her
lap. "He was wet and hungry."

"And you fed him?"

"I heated some leftovers and gave him a piece of chocolate
cake."

"Well, who on earth was he?"

"Cody. That's about all I know."

"What did Steve do after Charlie left your house?"

Brenda's face grew somber for a moment. Then she shrugged.
"He went to bed. He works so hard, you know."

"Yes, but ... but ..." For once in her life Esther had run out of
words.

"You ready, Brenda?" Patsy asked. She had swept her station
and put away the dryer and curling iron from her last customer.
"Come on over."

Brenda stood, laid down her magazine, and then faced Esther.
"Cody slept on our porch swing last night. And if he's there again
tonight, you can tell Charlie not to bother him. We don't mind a
bit."

With that, she lifted her chin and carried her purse over to
Patsy's station.

Steve Hansen pulled his Honda Civic hybrid to a stop at the gas
pump in front of Pete Roberts's Rods-n-Ends. A month ago, the
store next door to the beauty salon had reopened under new ownership, and everyone in Deepwater Cove had breathed a sigh of
relief. Not only were the two gas pumps back in service, but Pete had stocked the shelves with lures, tackle, snacks, wakeboards, skis,
sunscreen, coolers, minnow buckets, and even a few swimming
suits and towels. If it could be used at the lake, Rods-n-Ends had it.

A single wall separated Patsy Pringle's small, glass-windowed
tea area from Pete's store. But that was as far as the similarities
went. Lately Pete had been talking about selling pre-owned jet
Skis, johnboats, and even a few four-wheelers and motorcycles. He
was already repairing small engines in his extra room, and he felt
that fixing up and selling secondhand vehicles would keep him in
business during the slow months. Steve agreed.

At Lake of the Ozarks, multimillion-dollar homes, marinas, golf
courses, and country clubs tended to overshadow the harsh reality
faced by many of the area's year-round residents. Mobile homes
and sagging houses with leaky roofs hid in the woods along roads
that led to high-end condominiums and gated communities.
Parent-teacher night filled the local school's parking lot with an
odd mix of rusty old junkers and luxury sedans. Steve knew there
wasn't much of a middle class at the lake, and it was tough on those
who tried to make a decent living.

Bagnell Dam, built in the 1930s, had plugged up five rivers and
created a body of water that now boasted 1,200 miles of shoreline.
Restaurants, arcades, antiques shops, grocery stores, bars, and tattoo parlors proliferated, but these businesses failed at an alarming
rate. Turnover in the strip mall at Tranquility was too high for
comfort, Steve believed. He had been considering a move into
commercial real estate-and keeping that little mall alive was one
of his major goals.

Congratulating himself once again for his wisdom in buying a
hybrid, Steve ran his credit card through the slot on the gas pump.
As he began to fill the tank, he saw Pete Roberts saunter out from
the store.

"Hey, Steve. How's it going?" Pete wandered over and started
washing the Honda's windshield. "Sell any houses today?"

"I'm closing on one next week, and I've got another that's just about ready to go to contract. It's a great market for both buyers
and sellers right now." He made his voice sound as cheerful as possible. "What's new with you?"

Pete Roberts, a newcomer to Deepwater Cove, might be a
good-looking man, but it was hard to tell under his beard. If he
really wanted his business to succeed, Steve thought, he needed to
lose some of that beer belly, shave his beard, and put on a pair of
khakis. Old, worn-out jeans didn't look professional. And he
ought to wear a long-sleeved shirt to cover up those tattoos.

"Folks have been in and out of the store all day," Pete commented. He began wiping the streaks from the windshield. "Sold a
lot of minnows and a fair number of worms. They say fishing's
been pretty good. You been out much?"

"No time for fishing these days. The business keeps me going
nonstop."

"Everybody's talking about some fellow who showed up on
your front porch last night in the storm," Pete said. "You get a
good look at him?"

Steve grimaced. News traveled way too fast in Deepwater Cove.
He recalled the heated discussion he and Brenda had gotten into
the evening before. It seemed lately that was the only kind of talking they did.

Brenda had once been bright, energetic, and fun. But she was
growing more and more unpleasant, and the whole situation confused him.

Just when she should have been her happiest, she had begun to
turn sour and snappy. On top of that, she had lost so much weight
that she looked downright haggard. Steve had always admired the
soft curves and rounded femininity that Brenda bemoaned while
gazing at herself in the mirror. "Look at these hips," she would
lament, but he loved them. A woman ought to be shapely, he
thought, with gentle mounds and silky hollows in all the right
places.

It bothered Steve that his wife wasn't eating right, taking care of herself, or looking at the sunny side of life. These days, entering
their house felt like stepping into a chill wind off the lake. When
Brenda emerged from the kitchen or the basement-her eyes distant and her hair straggly-he felt like he had come home to the Ice
Queen.

Last night Steve had been frustrated and worried. Why on earth
had she thought it was safe to open the front door and hand a plate
of food to a complete stranger?

She had told him there was paint and mud all over the basement
floor. Then she started crying.

By that time, Steve was so upset with her that all he could do was
go to bed and hope it blew over by the next day. He had left the
house this morning before Brenda was up.

"I saw the fellow on the porch," Steve told Pete. "Pretty hard to
miss. I figure he was just some homeless guy, cold and hungry.
Brenda gave him a bite to eat, and he was gone this morning."

"You got yourself a fine wife there," Pete observed. "Not too
many women would be brave enough to do a kind deed like that."

Steve studied the bearded man for a moment. "You married,
Pete?"

"Twice. I'm single now. Quit drinking three years ago after one
too many DUIs and a little jail time. I took a business class at the
tech school in Springfield. Got things turned around pretty good
now, but I'm not looking for another wife. I'm sure you're grateful
for yours, though. Brenda stopped in for gas today and bought a
cooler, and I thought to myself, now that's a good-hearted woman.
And pretty, too."

"Yes, she sure is," Steve agreed, picturing his wife's tear-streaked
cheeks and swollen nose from the night before. He handed Pete
two dollar bills for the windshield. "Well, you have a good evening
now.

Pete smiled and shook his head. "Glad to be of service," he said.
"You keep your money and come see me the next time you manage
to empty that hybrid's gas tank."

"It'll be a while," Steve said with a laugh.

Pete was a decent sort of fellow, Steve thought as he pulled away
from Rods-n-Ends. Passing the beauty shop next door, he saw that
the lights were still on and Patsy Pringle was doing someone's hair.
It gave him a good feeling to envision people working in their
stores and salons, building up the local economy, making life
better for themselves and everyone around.

As he drove away from the town of Tranquility toward Deepwater Cove, Steve reflected on the long journey of his own life.
Growing up poor, marrying young, and having three kids-one
right after the other-had forced him to abandon all thoughts of
college. He had worked long and hard selling auto parts, coaching
Little League teams, helping with the youth group at church. He
had enjoyed his kids, and Brenda had done a great job with them.
Steve wouldn't be a bit surprised if Jennifer got married and went
off to be a full-time missionary. Justin and Jessica were making
progress in college, and Steve couldn't be prouder.

Best of all, Steve had come up with the idea to sell real estate on
the side to defray the college expenses. He truly believed that God
had given him that desire.

As it turned out, his experience peddling auto parts had helped
him become an outstanding salesman. He took a course on how to
sell property and went to work for an agency in Tranquility. Before
he knew it, he was making sufficient money to quit his regular job.
Soon he was earning enough to pay for all three kids' college and a
couple of new cars. The next step had been to start an office of his
own. And now he had a secretary and two sales associates.

So why did he have to walk through the door and run smackdab into Brenda's cold shoulder? Why couldn't she be satisfied
with her husband and glad to see him at the end of the day? As
Steve pulled his car into the garage, he almost wished he could turn
tail and run.

Brenda used to greet her husband with "hello" and a kiss. Today
she ignored him and kept stirring something on the stove. Steve hung his coat in the hall closet, kicked off his shoes, and went looking for the local newspaper. He liked to check the real-estate section and find out what his competition was up to. Settling into a
recliner, he flicked on the TV and scanned the paper. He could
hear Brenda in the kitchen banging pots and pans around. Well, if
she didn't want to talk, that was fine with him. A cop show was
coming on in a few minutes, and he would watch that and then
head for bed.

Of course, Steve would have preferred if Brenda had come into
the living room, sat down in his lap, and let him put his arms
around her and tell her all about his day. About the couple who
had discussed listing their big lakefront house near Tranquility
with his agency. And the folks who had come by the office to see
pictures of his highest-priced homes. And the lady whose dog had
upchucked something green and nasty on the carpet in one of the
condos he was showing her. It might have been nice if his wife had
offered him a piece of her chocolate cake-which she knew he
loved-and asked him how the new computerized record-keeping
program was working out. But no, she was giving him the silent
treatment.

His cop show came on, and Steve got sleepy. He was just about
to doze off when he heard Brenda open the front door. Glancing in
that direction, he saw her heft a big white cooler with a blue lid out
onto the porch. She pulled the door shut behind her and didn't
come back in.

Steve frowned. It was one thing for Brenda to ignore him, but
now she was acting strange. He eased out of the recliner and padded over to the door. Through the front window, he could see
Brenda sitting on the porch swing. And she was talking to him.

The stranger!

His heart suddenly racing, Steve threw open the door and
stepped outside. Bad enough to have a vagrant in the neighborhood, but this was too much.

"Brenda?" he said.

"Oh, Steve, it's you." Her voice was crisp, like a chill wind that
cut right through to his bones. "Would you like to meet my new
friend?"

For a minute, Steve couldn't make anything come out of his
mouth. He stared at the skinny man, a young fellow with a tangled
beard and long hair. The man stood with one of the Hansens'
stoneware bowls in his grimy hand.

"Hi, I'm Cody!" he said, breaking into a grin. "I got some soup
tonight. Lots of it. I've been hungry, but now look!"

He bent and flipped open the cooler's blue lid. Inside sat two
stacks of full, lidded soup bowls; several Baggies of sandwiches;
and a few boxes of fruit juice. "And chocolate cake!" Cody continued. "Because my daddy told me that anyone might give you food,
but only a Christian would give you chocolate cake, too. That
means she's a Christian. What's your name?"

Steve managed to put on his best Realtor smile and held out his
hand. "I'm Steve Hansen."

"How old are you?" Cody stuck out his left hand and awkwardly
shook Steve's right. "I'm getting older now, and my daddy told me
it's time to make my way. `Make your way, Cody.' That's what he
told me. How old are you?"

"I'm forty-five," Steve said, glancing at Brenda.

"Hey!" Cody plopped down on the swing. "Same as her!
Forty-five years. What's your name, lady? I forgot already."

"Brenda Hansen. I'm married to Steve."

"Okay." Cody sipped a spoonful of soup. "Forty-five years.
That's pretty old. I'm not that old."

"How old are you?" Brenda asked in a soft voice.

Cody studied her. "I'm not forty-five years."

"No, you're younger."

"Okay. This sure is good soup. Look!" He flipped open the lid of
the cooler again for Steve. "It's full to the brim! You could eat it for
forty-five years. She gave it to me, because I was hungry. And chocolate cake, too. Three pieces!"