Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (31 page)

“Oh, Brad.” She shook her head, unwilling to believe he could be so honest with her after what he had done.

“Listen to me, Ashley,” he went on. “I won’t go anywhere without telling you. I’ll never leave a place unless I’ve called to let you know where I’m headed. I won’t get upset if you drive by to check on me and make sure I’ve told you the truth. You can ask my friends about me. Ask Bill Walters or Pete or Mr. Moore. Ask anyone.”

Ashley struggled to hold back her tears.

This offer was impossible. Surely Brad didn’t mean it. He was too cool, too confident, too self-assured to humble himself so much. Yet he was speaking this vow. He was offering concrete ways for her to find out whether he was trustworthy.

“Please believe me,” he said, laying his hand alongside hers at the edge of the bed. “I know it’s going to take a long time to rebuild what I broke. I don’t expect you to suddenly trust me. But give me a chance to prove myself. Let this be the beginning of a new start for us.”

Ashley felt tired all of a sudden. Everything came rushing out in a flood of tears that dampened the pillow. It was as though the hurt and anger had been holding her together, and then Brad had pulled the plug. She poured her sobs into the fabric, hoping it muffled the sound.

Brad mustn’t be allowed to hear. He mustn’t know how much she wanted to believe him. How dare she allow herself one smidgen of faith in such a man? She was too afraid. Too scared he would hurt her again.

She had to get out of the house. Pete’s pickup was stuck, but she could walk. She would leave Yappy with Brad and go to Patsy’s house. No doubt Patsy would take her in again.

But this time Ashley’s friend wouldn’t be so sympathetic. Brad’s message would make sense to Patsy. Worse, Patsy would believe him.

Patsy, Pete, and Mr. Moore were good people, but Ashley had seen the behavior of others who claimed to be godly and paraded their faith around. Then they showed up at the country club with their snide remarks, their racist jokes, their affairs. Ashley rarely took people at face value. Why should she take Brad that way now?

“The last thing I want to tell you,” he said, “is that I love you, Ashley. I do. I remember how it was when we first met … and I know we really did love each other … and things were good.”

He stopped speaking. She could hear him swallowing, trying to control his emotions, and she could hardly believe it. It was impossible that Brad Hanes would cry. He never cried. The only emotions the man had ever shown were lust, anger, and drunken exuberance.

But sorrow? Pleading? An offer of total openness? This was not the person she had married.

“Even if I decided to try trusting you again,” she said, “how can I forgive you, Brad? I’ll never forget what you did to me on Christmas Eve.”

His arm touched hers as he lifted his hand to wipe at his face. “I know you won’t forget. But surely you can hear my apologies. You can’t deny that I’m sorry. I hate what I did to you, and I’ve sworn never to do anything like that again. Why can’t you forgive me?”

“Maybe I can in my head. I even said the words a few minutes ago. But in my heart? My heart would be lying if I said I forgave you. What you did hurt too much. Every time I remember it, I feel the same pain. How am I supposed to get rid of that?”

“I don’t know. It’s been hard for me to get past the pain I’ve caused you too. I don’t have all the answers. And I probably don’t even have the right to ask you this. I just know how much I love you and how much I want us to try again. Please, Ashley, will you give me another chance?”

The word
no
screamed inside her head.
No, no, no!
She would never give Brad another chance. Why should she? He was a cheater and a liar. Surely he was lying even now, telling her these things and begging her to put away the blame.

“Brrrp. Brrrp.”
Yappy’s snores sounded loud in the dark bedroom.

Ashley lifted her face from the pillow and drew in a deep breath. The air had grown much colder. The electricity had not come back on, and the longer it stayed off, the more certain she became that the night would continue without it. Sleet was still pelting the windows, and suddenly she heard a loud bang. The sound of gunfire.

Tensing, she instinctively leaned toward Brad. “What was that?”

“A branch,” he said. “It broke under the weight of the ice.”

“I don’t like this. I want to be somewhere else.”

“But God put you here.”

“Oh, enough with all this God stuff, Brad. You sound weird. You sound like … like Mrs. Moore.”

Without warning, she burst into tears again, weeping for the losses that were too much to bear. Her innocence. Her belief in fairy tales. Her friendship with Mrs. Moore. And finally her husband. She had lost her marriage, and it would never come back. Despite what Brad said, despite the hope Patsy held, none of these losses could be undone.

“Ashley.” Brad moved toward her in the dark. He touched her arm and then her shoulder. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Moore.”

His fingers slipped into the tangle of her braid. He cupped her head, drawing her close. As she wept, he pressed her cheek to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“I love you, Ashley,” he whispered as the night filled with the rapid-fire crack of frozen limbs breaking from trees. “I love you so much.”

Buried under bedding, Ashley lay on the sofa with Yappy snoring softly beside her. The candles she had gathered on the coffee table had burned down to puddles of colored wax. As Brad studied them in the light of dawn, he was reminded of his wife’s brightly hued beads. At some point in the night when he had been unable to sleep, he had watched the wax drip and realized he had been jealous.

Jealous of beads.

Inanimate objects had compelled him to curse and boil with anger at his wife. He had truly believed she loved her beads more than she loved him. What a fool. He’d acted like a kid, envious and resentful of another youngster’s toys. Maybe he
was
a kid. Ashley, too. Maybe their youth and immaturity had something to do with all the problems. Charlie Moore certainly believed Brad was as irresponsible as a child and had berated him for it.

On this day, with one year of marriage behind them, Brad knew he could do nothing but pray that Ashley would forgive him. A hesitant reunion between them had begun the night before when the trees started to shatter. Still wary, Ashley had allowed Brad to lead her into their living room. In the dark silence, they ate some slices of bread with peanut butter. Then, her breath trembling and her hands cold, Ashley let him cover her and the dog with blankets and their heavy comforter.

Sitting on the floor beside her, Brad had dozed on and off. He had fitful dreams, waking every time another branch broke outside. As the room lightened, he could hardly stand the apprehension. What would happen when Ashley awoke? Would she leap out of bed and head for the door? Or would she stay and forgive him?

As he pondered, Yappy suddenly lifted his head and yawned. Ashley’s eyes, swollen from crying, fluttered open. Brown and deep, they lingered on Brad’s face.

Then she jerked the comforter over her head. “Oh no—not you!”

“Ashley.” He touched her arm. “It’s okay.”

“Is the power back on?” she asked from under the bedding.

“I have a bad feeling it’s going to be down for a while. I’m worried our pipes are frozen.”

She emerged again, her hair curling around her face like wisps of cedar shavings. Eyes closed and an expression of pain written on her face, she spoke.

“I want to make it clear that I don’t believe you, Brad. The things you said last night are not true. The drinking and the religious stuff and the changes. Maybe right now you’re different, but it won’t last.”

“One day at a time,” he murmured, reaching up to touch a tendril. “That’s what we say in AA meetings. It’s in the Bible, too. Jesus told people not to worry about tomorrow. He said God keeps His eyes on the sparrows, and He gave the lilies their colors. If He cares so much for them, we can be sure He’ll watch over us, too.”

“Here we are freezing to death, and you’re babbling like Cody.”

“Cody’s smarter than I’ll ever be. Plus, he knows the Bible up one side and down the other, and he cares about people. On top of that, he tries to have good social skills.”

“Now
there
you could learn something.”

“Hey!” He gave her a squeeze. Unable to help himself, he kissed the smooth plane of her forehead. “Nah, you’re right. I’m a dolt. At least Cody makes an effort.”

Her lips, pressed tightly together, were trembling. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t be nice, Brad.”

“C’mon, Ash, it’s our anniversary. Say you’ll let me try. I have a lot to learn. I know sometimes I’ll still do the wrong thing. But you can trust me to be faithful, to love you, and to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m never going to be perfect, but I have changed.”

“How do you know? How can I be sure? If you ever cheated on me again—”

“I will not do that, Ashley.” He leaned one shoulder against the sofa. A branch popped outside, but he kept his focus on his wife. “I can make promises all day long, but at some point, you’re just going to have to decide to have faith.”

She stroked Yappy’s downy head. “I don’t know. It’s hard not to think about the past. I remember it all the time, and I’m still angry. Really angry.”

For a moment, Brad couldn’t think how to respond. Of course she was furious, and how could he ever diminish her rage? At the thought of living under Ashley’s constant wrath, he felt a curl of despair well through his chest.

“Mr. Moore told me a husband has to learn to listen to his wife,” Brad offered. “I want to know about your beads, Ash. I’d like to start supporting your dream instead of discouraging it. Dreams—like your dad’s ideas—they aren’t such bad things.”

Her eyes grew thoughtful. “I heard you were looking into college.”

“I’ve already enrolled for a block class at the community college in March. Basic composition. Turns out Bill Walters goes to LAMB Chapel. We were talking after church last Sunday, and I mentioned my old dream of teaching math and coaching football. Bill offered to pay for my classes—except in the summer when he needs me on the job. He said if I do well, he’ll carry me the whole way until I get the degree. Crazy, huh?”

Her silence said more than words.

Brad puffed a breath of warm air into his hands and then rubbed them together. “Listen, Ashley, I want to give this marriage everything I’ve got. We’re different, sure, but I think we can balance each other. What do you say? Can we try again?”

He waited, feeling much as he had near the end of a tight football game. Could he pull it off? Would he throw the ball into the receiver’s arms? Would there be a perfect catch, a touchdown that saved the game for the home team?

“I’ll have to think about it.” Her voice quaked like that of a little girl on the edge of tears. “I didn’t expect—”

A boom that shook the floor silenced Ashley. She glanced toward the window and then caught his shoulders. “Brad! It’s Miranda Finley’s house. A tree fell on it. The whole roof looks caved in … and … oh, Brad, I think it’s on fire!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

B
oots, boots!” Brad scrambled around the living room in search of his footwear. Yappy had leaped off the sofa and was racing around in circles, barking like a maniac. Brad found a boot and began pulling it on. “Your purse is there. Right by the couch. Call 911, Ash!”

“Here’s your other boot!” She tossed it toward him as she lunged for her beaded bag.

Deftly catching the boot, Brad reached for the dog. “Keep Yap inside, okay? You stay here too, Ash. Pray no one’s in there.”

“I can’t find my phone!” Even as she spoke, Ashley’s hand closed around the chilled metal. She drew it from her bag and flipped it open. “It’s dead. It must be the battery. I bet it froze.”

“Try to find my phone. It might be in the bedroom. Yappy, stop grabbing my laces!”

“Come here, Yap!” She snatched up the puppy and stood to look out the window. No doubt now—the small house next door was aflame. Smoke billowed through an attic vent as well as the crushed roofline. “Hurry, Brad. What if Mrs. Finley’s hurt? There’s no water! How are we going to get her out?”

“I’ll use the chain saw.” Throwing open the door, he tore out of the house, Yappy at his heels.

“Yappy! No! Come back.” As Ashley struggled into her own boots, the chain saw hiccupped several times. She realized Brad was already pulling the starter cord. Running toward the entryway, she heard the high-pitched whine of the saw coming to life.
Thank God!

But the moment Ashley stepped onto the icy deck, her feet went out from under her. Breathless and lying flat on her back, she couldn’t move. She tried to suck down a gulp of frigid air as Brad raced toward the flower of flame shooting out through the crumpled roof. Yappy was halfway across the patch of crystalline grass between the two houses when a gasp inflated her lungs.

“Yap!” she wheezed. Curling to her knees, Ashley tried again. “Yappy, come here! Come
now
!”

The puppy skidded to a halt and looked back at her.

“Come, Yappy!”