Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (15 page)

“My business hasn’t caused our problems, Brad. It’s you. You pulled away from me right after we married. You started going to Larry’s, and then we were hardly in bed together at the same time.

But why would you need to hold me? You have your magazine. What good is a real live wife with red hair and skinny legs compared to one of those gorgeous women?”

“It’s not like that, Ashley. I know they’re not real. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand your trash. All I need is to finally accept the truth that my husband stopped touching me a long time ago. You know who you hold and stroke and pet these days? A dog. I’m lower than that puppy on your priority list.”

Brad suddenly sat up straight. “Wait a minute—where’s Yappy?”

“How should I know?” Ashley’s anger began to ebb in the realization that the broken front door lay on their living room floor. Snow was blowing into a house they could barely afford to heat. And now the puppy had run off.

“Yappy?” Brad stood and walked past her. “Yap, where are you, boy?”

Ashley pulled her robe off the chair where she’d thrown it the night before. “Yappy!” she called. “Come here, Yappy! Time for breakfast.”

“He’s not here. The house is empty.”

“Help me get the door back in place. You probably scared him to death when you bashed it in. Maybe he’s hiding.”

Together, they hoisted the door and its splintered frame back into the opening where it had been. Ashley sat down on the sofa amid the discarded cans and tugged on her snow boots. This was awful. What a terrible thing. She and Brad had been fighting so loudly, yelling at each other, tearing down their own house, and now their puppy was missing! What if that dog had been their own child? How had it ever come to this?

Brad stepped into his work boots, pulled his coat over his bare chest, and zipped it up. With some effort, he managed to work the door open enough to slip outside. Ashley followed, unable to shut it tight behind her. Trudging through the drifts of snow, they whistled and called for the puppy.

“He’s so small!” Ashley called to Brad as she stopped to catch her breath. “He’ll freeze to death.”

“He’s wily. He’ll be okay. Yappy! Come here, fella. Come see Daddy!”

Daddy?

The word ricocheted through Ashley. Brad had always protested the idea of their having a baby. The room she had hoped would become a nursery now sat empty, unfurnished, cold. She had eventually given up hope of children anytime soon, and as it turned out, that was probably wise. Look at the two of them. What a wreck they’d made of their marriage.

But did Brad actually have fatherly feelings tucked away inside him somewhere? He was always so sweet and gentle with the dog, she thought as she worked her way through the trees behind the house. He had been that way toward Ashley once. Why had he turned away from her? Why didn’t he even want to cuddle with her anymore? What had she done that was so awful?

If Brad could love a dog as much as he did Yappy, why couldn’t he love his own wife?

“Is this who you’re looking for?” Miranda Finley’s voice echoed between the neighboring houses. Wearing a black fur coat, she held up the little dog. “I noticed him on my deck a minute ago.”

“Yappy!” Ashley took off through the prickly brush. As she ran out into the open, she saw Brad just ahead of her. He leaped onto Miranda’s deck and wrapped the little dog in his arms.

“Thank you, Mrs. Finley,” Ashley said, joining him. “Brad was getting ready for work, and I guess the puppy got out.”

“Probably through the front door your husband kicked open with his bare foot.” Miranda smiled, her hooded eyes trailing across from Ashley to Brad. “What an interesting sequence of events I witnessed over my morning coffee. Now I truly do know the meaning of a farmer’s tan.”

Without speaking, Brad turned and stepped off Miranda’s deck. As he carried the puppy back toward their house, Ashley studied the older woman.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” she told Miranda.

“Oh, it wasn’t unpleasant. You’re a lucky young lady.”

Ashley gritted her teeth. Then Miranda reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. Every married woman has her burdens to bear. From a distance, yours didn’t look so bad.”

“That’s not funny, Mrs. Finley.”

“I’m teasing. Ashley, you should know better than anyone that I mean well for you. I helped you start your bead business, didn’t I? I’ve tried to be a good friend to you.”

“You have, and I’m grateful. But my marriage is private.”

“
Nothing
was private this morning.” Miranda chuckled and then shook her head. “Oh, don’t look so upset. What I saw this morning was a nice surprise for a woman my age. I’ve heard whispers in the neighborhood about you and Brad having a few spats, but I never pay attention to that sort of thing. My husband and I had our troubles too, when he was alive.”

“You did?” Ashley had never heard Miranda speak of her late husband. What sort of man would marry a spiky-haired woman who did nothing but lie in the sun all day or go to tanning salons and bake herself into leather? Derek Finley was nothing like his mother. The gentle Water Patrol officer must have taken after his father.

“What you need, Ashley,” Miranda was saying now, “is spiritual grounding. You’re floating along through life with no one to guide you, nothing to put your faith in except yourself. Relying on yourself—on your own inner deity—is exactly right, but only if you feel good about who you are. I’ll tell you what. For Christmas, I’ll give you some of my books. You can come over and we’ll do yoga together, too, if you want. That will calm you down and focus you in the right direction—within.”

“I don’t know about that, Mrs. Finley. You’d better not give me any of your stuff.” Ashley didn’t want to confess how broken her marriage truly was—and the fact that she might not be able to locate Miranda’s books in the midst of a hasty, heated divorce. “I’m so busy. I’m not sure when I could return them.”

“Gifts don’t have to be returned. This is my way of helping you and Brad. Ashley, you’ve been running from one thing to the next for such a long time that you haven’t had time to focus on what really matters.”

“I know. Brad.”

“Not your husband.
You
.” She touched the top button of Ashley’s coat with her fingertip. “A healthy, whole you. You need to realize that everything in this world is—in its essence—a part of god. You, Ashley Hanes, are one with divinity. Ignorance of this truth is really your only flaw. You don’t understand your own nature and how it fits into the wholeness of the universe. These books I’m going to give you will be enlightening. As you begin a personal transformation, things will start to make sense.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am. The problem is outside yourself—the ignorance, illusion, and misunderstanding in this world.”

Ashley shifted her weight from one foot to the other as Miranda talked. The truth was, she didn’t feel the least bit divine.

She was trying to think of a good way out of the conversation when she saw Brad, fully dressed, heading to his car. He carried Yappy in his arms.

“You’re right, Mrs. Finley. The problem
is
outside—because outside, it’s still snowing, and my front door is broken, and my husband is leaving for work without even saying good-bye to me. So excuse me while I get out of this cold and see if Mr. Moore will come over and help me fix the door.”

“Oh, you won’t find Charlie Moore at home today,” Miranda called after her as Ashley hurried down the steps of the deck. “He’s gone off to California with Bitty Sondheim and Jessica Hansen and her fiancé. You’re on your own now, Ashley.”

Brad sat by the space heater in the large condo foyer he was helping to build. The other guys on the crew were eating their lunches, but he didn’t feel hungry. Yappy, on the other hand, was scampering from one man to the next, taking the bits of sandwich meat, bread, chips, even peanuts they handed him. Brad vaguely wondered what kind of mess he’d have to clean up later.

“You must have been celebrating hard last night, dude.” Mack wandered over and hunkered down beside Brad. “I didn’t see you at Larry’s. Don’t tell me you’ve found another place to hang out. Yvonne was asking about you.”

“Buzz off, Mack.” Brad pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m not in the mood for it.”

“I’m just saying …” Mack shrugged and downed the last bite of a burrito. “The woman likes you. If I had a hot one like Yvonne on my tail—”

Brad cut him off with a glare, and Mack ambled out the door for his after-lunch smoke. Toying with his phone, Brad thought about Ashley.

He didn’t like to admit it even to himself, but he had always hoped his wife would be pure and sweet, one of those virginal girls like Jennifer Hansen. Ashley had been almost that way. Not exactly, but near enough that he’d been able to envision a lifetime with her.

How had she turned into this redheaded hornet who hated the very sight of him?

Was he really that bad?

Brad let out a breath. Probably.

He couldn’t recall his encounter with Jennifer Hansen without growing uncomfortable. What had he been thinking? He had just walked out of a Bible study, and the next thing he knew, he was making a play for his wife’s friend inside her mother’s store. Was he insane?

Maybe he was losing some brain cells. Ashley said he drank too much. Could that be it?

He looked around at the other men on the construction crew. They were buddies—guys like him who enjoyed tossing back a few brews now and then. He couldn’t say he truly admired any of them. Except his boss, maybe. But Bill Walters held a college degree and ran his company like a drill sergeant. The only tenderness Brad had seen in the man was when Yappy came along to work after the night they had spent in the car. The puppy was shivering and hungry. Bill had taken Yappy into his trailer, fed him, and let him sleep there for the day. In fact, the two had become so attached that Brad felt he’d probably better not show up
without
the puppy the following day.

What about Ashley’s accusations of Brad’s spending problems? Now there she was dead wrong. He had bought and wrecked the truck, true. But a man could be forgiven for a financial mistake or two, couldn’t he? It wasn’t like he ordered bead-making supplies day and night.

“Why don’t you come to Larry’s with us tonight?” Mack was asking as he downed a packaged vanilla cream snack cake in a single bite. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, so there won’t be much fun going on then. I suspect Larry might even shut down early. Yvonne’s been doing a really hot version of ‘Jingle Bell Rock,’ and I bet you’d—”

“Wait. Did you say Christmas Eve is tomorrow?” Brad sat up. “Are you sure?”

“Man, where have you been?”

Glancing down at his phone, Brad wondered for the umpteenth time if he should call Ashley. There really were a few things he should apologize for. Not everything, of course. But some of it. Like the empty cans around the couch. And breaking down their front door.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t have done that if she hadn’t locked him out. The look on Miranda Finley’s face made him feel sick. What did an old woman like her mean by flirting with Brad right in front of his wife? Had she really seen him buck naked?

“I probably ought to call Ashley.” Brad gave Yappy’s ears a rub as the dog trotted by. The number was right there, so easy to press. But did he want to hear her harsh accusations all over again?

“Yeah, put that apron on,” Mack said. “Run back to the wife with your tail between your legs and see if she’ll forgive you. You are so whipped.”

Mack wadded up his cake wrapper. With a loud grunt, the heavier man heaved his jeans up on his waist and trudged outside to smoke one last cigarette. Any time now, Bill Walters would step into the foyer and call the crew back to work.

Looking down at his phone again, Brad ran through his stored names and numbers. Charlie Moore’s cell number lit up for a moment. What would he say to all of this? He’d probably have a good laugh about Brad running around naked in the snow. But Mr. Moore wouldn’t find the rest of it amusing at all.

Brad hesitated over the number for a moment. With a tap of his finger, he probably could have Mr. Moore on the line. Weird, but it would be nice to hear the old guy’s voice. Get an update on the trip to California. No doubt Mr. Moore would want to know how things were going with Ashley. What could Brad say?

“Back to work,” Bill called. The other men trooped into the foyer, Brad following right behind. With a yelp of recognition, Yappy raced past his owner and leaped into the man’s arms.

“I’ll take your pup to the trailer,” Bill said.

Though Brad knew it was against regulations to have an animal on the site, he could tell his employer was getting pretty attached to the dog. And vice versa. That bothered him.

“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

“No problem. He’s probably ready for a nap anyhow. It’s warmer in there.” Bill lifted his head. “Listen up, everyone. You guys get that wallboard hung, taped, and mudded in the master bedroom and bath, and I’ll let you go early. Tomorrow we quit at noon. If anyone’s looking for a Christmas Eve candlelight service, LAMB Chapel has a good one every year. You’re all welcome to drop in. Seven sharp.”