Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (10 page)

Aware Ashley had asked a question, Brad focused on his wife again. He’d been admiring her shapely legs and wondering why she had failed to ask more about his work on the condo project. She didn’t even give him a chance to report Bill Walters’s compliment.

“Sometimes I think about what it would be like to have a child,” Ashley continued without waiting for him to answer. “I understand how you feel about it, Brad … about waiting. I get that. I really do. But don’t you ever wonder about becoming a dad? I think being a mom would be so incredible. I love kids. I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, remember?”

Brad nodded. “Yeah. I guess I remember that.”

“You
guess
? I used to talk about it a lot when we were dating. In fact, for a while I was trying to save up money to go to college so I could get a teaching degree.”

Brad swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t bring up the fact that her money had gone into the truck he had wrecked just before his second DWI. The truck that was eventually repossessed. He was trying to come up with a way to deflect that topic when Ashley spoke again. “The other day, I was telling Jennifer Hansen about my dream of teaching little kids. I think my bead designs come from that love I have for children. I don’t know, Brad … to me, the beads seem so … preschool. Jennifer doesn’t agree, but I can’t figure out why everyone is all gaga about them. Sometimes I feel as though a child could make the same exact patterns. The beads don’t
feel
like art. But Miranda tells me that her friends love them because they’re so unique. She’s always going on and on about my beads, you know?”

If there was one thing Brad knew about, it was his wife’s beads. And he definitely did not want to talk about them tonight. Besides, what could he say? They did look sort of kindergarten-ish to him. He had been interested in math and science in school, and he didn’t really understand the appeal of art. Especially these beads that had taken over his life.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ashley asked, her voice holding a note of trepidation. “Do you think my beads are stupid? I bet you do. You do, don’t you? You don’t like them. You think they’re ugly.”

“I never said that,” Brad protested. “I’ll just be glad when Christmas is over and things can get back to normal around here.”

Ashley’s face went pale and her eyes filled with tears.

“Wait, I don’t mean it that way.” He popped his knuckles, trying to figure out how to fix his error. “Your beads are great, Ash. They’re … well, the women sure do love them. It’s just that I kind of miss the way we were. That’s all.”

“The way we are now has nothing to do with my beads.” Her expression went from disappointed to angry in a flash. “There’s not a thing wrong with a woman following her dreams. Jennifer and I have been discussing that.”

“Okay,” he managed.

“Jen isn’t sure she wants to be a missionary now, and I told her it’s fine for her to do whatever she chooses. She can’t figure out what to do with Cody, either. He’s really cute, sure, but he’s so different.

There’s a part of her that loves him. There’s another part that wants a regular kind of guy. I said, hey, you can’t count on any man turning out the way you thought. I mean, look at us, Brad. I thought we’d go right from dating into marriage without a hitch. But everything is so different now. Jennifer says we should talk about our relationship. So … do you want to do that?”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Brad tried to think of an appropriate response to this sudden firebomb.
No
, of course he didn’t want to talk about their relationship! That was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He’d rather scrub toilets and clean out bathroom drains for the rest of his life than talk about their relationship.

“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?” she was asking, her brown eyes pleading.

“Well, I mean … sure. I guess.”

“It’s just that I expected we’d keep doing the same things as when we dated. Discussing everything in our lives—all our feelings and dreams and thoughts. Taking walks by the lake. Going to movies. Cuddling. Didn’t you like that?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Brad felt like he needed to scratch his back—as though he were a bear chased up a tree by a hound dog and unable to get down again. It wasn’t that he was afraid. He was just restless. Itchy. He wanted to move. Stand up. Walk around. Anything to get out of this predicament.

“I used to love it when you drove me around and we listened to music for hours.” Ashley stretched out, setting her stocking feet on the coffee table and slouching back into the chair. “Remember that? And you would play with my hair. It felt so good when you messed around with my clips and my comb. I think we should try to do that kind of stuff more often.”

Brad did remember. He definitely recalled those quiet times when he and Ashley had been alone together, focused on each other and enjoying the intimacy they both felt. In fact, he wouldn’t mind running his fingers through his wife’s hair right now. He started to move; then he saw that Ashley had once again veered the subject down an unexpected sidetrack.

“There’s so much in our way these days,” she was lamenting. “Like your mom is always calling to give me recipes. Even though I know she’s trying to be nice, that bugs me. It’s as if she thinks I’m not good enough for you. I’m doing the best I can in the kitchen. If she’s so worried about it, why doesn’t she teach
you
how to cook? All our chefs at the country club are men, and yet at home, women are supposed to make the meals. How stupid. Jay agrees with me on that, by the way, Brad. I’m trying to be nice to your parents even though your mom interferes all the time, but I don’t understand why you refuse to go to my family’s snack shop anymore. You used to hang out there all the time. We’d be together even though I was working. I think the reason you won’t go is because you don’t like my dad.”

Wow.
Brad let out a breath as he pushed himself up from the couch. This was not going as planned at all. Ashley was supposed to be admiring his cleanup job around the house and asking about his work at the condo project. Not this whole relationship discussion. That wasn’t the way he had mapped out the evening.

“Do you like my dad?” Ashley was asking.

“Sure.” Brad headed into the kitchen, Yappy following at his heels. “He’s all right.”

He grabbed a beer and popped the top. If he was going to get through the next few minutes of Ashley’s discourse on the state of their marriage, he would need some fortification. A buzz would dull some of the discomfort of having to sit and listen to her expound on her family, her friends, her dreams, her beads. …

“What are you doing?” Ashley was leaning forward in her chair as he strolled back to the couch.

“I’ve had a long day, and I’m tired. In case you forgot, I was mudding ceilings.”

“Well, I was washing dishes and you don’t see me drinking beer, do you? Why do you have to drink?”

“It’s one beer, Ash. Chill out. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is your DWIs.”

“Do I look like I’m driving?”

“No, but you do drive when you’re drunk.”

“I just like to have a cold one now and then—especially when it’s getting hot in the house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always stirring the pot, Ashley. Heating up trouble between us. Just a minute ago, you were running my mom into the ground, as usual. If I have to listen to that, I might as well pass the time doing
one
thing I enjoy.”

“But we were talking, Brad. We were discussing our marriage.”

“
You
were talking. And talking and talking. I’ve been sitting here with Yappy, who’s probably ready to go outside again by now.”

As he stood, Ashley leaped out of the chair and toppled him back onto the couch. “Don’t you dare walk out on me like this, Bradley Hanes! For the first time in our whole marriage, we were having a decent conversation. I was telling you my feelings about my job and our relationship and my friends.”

“Your job—the one where you talk to Jay all day? Your friends—like Jennifer who thinks we need to talk ourselves to death? Our relationship—which is in the tank?”

“It is not! Don’t say that, Brad.” Bursting into tears, she sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands. “I thought you cleaned up the house as a present for me. I thought you wanted to spend time with me—the way we used to. I thought everything was going to be okay again. Oh, this is terrible!”

“It’s not terrible, Ash. I’m having one beer, and you’re freaking out.”

“But you drink all the time, and you wrecked your truck—”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about that truck anymore!” When he got to his feet, the puppy bounced off the sofa and ran to the door. “See, Yappy needs to go out. He’s learning. Things are going to be all right, Ashley. You don’t have to make such a huge deal over stuff. With you, it’s like a constant catastrophe around here. What’s going on—is it your time of the month or something?”

“Oh!” She sprang up and squared her shoulders as she shouted at him. “How dare you make that part of our problems? I’ve been having a period since I was eleven, and it never caused me as much trouble as you do.
You’re
what’s wrong around here. You can’t even talk to me for ten minutes without running to the refrigerator for a beer.”

“I cleaned up the house for you, woman! I’ve listened to you jabber for at least an hour. You never quit. The jaw doesn’t stop moving. On and on and on. Gimme a break, would you? For your information, I’ve worked hard all day mudding ceilings, not to mention the fact that Mr. Moore and I nearly killed ourselves on that kitchen floor. I do all these things for you, and you never utter a word of appreciation. If you’re not griping about my family or my drinking, you’re blabbing nonstop about your beads. Well, here’s a message for you: I’ve admired your stupid beads and I’ve complimented every hunk of charred meat you’ve ever pulled out of our oven. I used to tell you I loved you all the time, and I meant it. But you don’t even have time to hear that anymore, do you? You’re so busy listing your
feelings
—most of which are put-downs of me—that you don’t have time to say one nice thing about me. See if I ever lift a finger around here again. And as for my beer, I’ll drink as much as I want, whenever I want, so don’t even think about trying to stop me. Come on, Yap. Let’s get out of here.”

Brad grabbed the doorknob and looked down to find the puppy seated beside several large brown beads. Only they weren’t beads. With a snarl of frustration, he scooped up the dog, threw open the door, and stalked out into the yard. He’d rather sleep in his car on a freezing night than stay in the house with that woman.

CHAPTER SIX

C
arrying the puppy in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other, Brad pushed open the door of Rods-N-Ends at six the following morning. He had spent the night shivering in his car with a squirmy, whiny dog curled up against him. Inside the bait and tackle shop, Brad stamped the snow off his work boots. Pete Roberts greeted him from behind the counter, but Brad sure didn’t feel like making small talk.

Not until he spotted Yvonne Ratcliff searching a row of shelves along one wall near the cash register.

“Don’t you carry smokes, Pete?” she asked in her familiar husky voice as she turned to face the burly storekeeper. “I’m out of Marlboros, and my nerves get so jangly when …” Her eye fell on Brad. “Well, hey there, good-lookin’. I figured you’d dropped off the face of the earth. Where’ve you been hiding?”

Brad shrugged. He felt like he’d been stomped on, rolled through grime, and then spattered with grit. Yvonne didn’t look a whole lot better than he felt, to tell the truth. Her hair was silky and her body shapely, but she had dark circles under her eyes. Her mouth might have sported shimmery lipstick earlier, but now her lips appeared smudged and puffy. Her cheeks were a blotchy pink. That short black leather skirt and pair of matching boots would have been sexy if not for the large hole near the knee of her stockings.

“Uh, Brad,” Pete spoke up. “You can’t bring your dog in here, buddy. I’m sorry, but I serve food, and animals are against the law unless you’re disabled.”

“He looks pretty disabled to me, Pete,” Yvonne drawled, sauntering toward Brad. “You must’ve had a rough night, honey. What happened—wife kick you and the dog out in the snow?”

One eyebrow arched as she gave Brad a slow smile. She lifted a hand and reached for the dog, but a low growl emanated from deep in Yappy’s throat.

Snatching her fingers away, Yvonne gave a derisive laugh.

“What is it, some kind of guard dog?” She flipped a hank of dark brown hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’d better get going. Gotta make it home before my kid wakes up. I’ve had a long night. Worked on my new set after Larry’s closed down. You ought to come by, Brad. I’ve got a different guy on the guitar now. Name’s Josh. He plays pretty decent, and I’m glad he’s around to keep me company. ’Course, he’s nothing compared to you.”

At that blatant flattery, Brad finally mustered a grin. Well, at least
someone
found him attractive. “I’ll probably see you tonight. If it keeps snowing, the boss man will let us off early.”

“You know where to find me.” She passed by, brushing against him in a way that sent ripples down his spine. “See ya, honey.”

“Take care, Yvonne,” Brad muttered, wishing he’d at least been able to brush his teeth that morning.

“You ought to carry cigarettes and liquor, Pete,” she called over her shoulder as she pushed through the door into the icy blast. “Otherwise, you’re liable to go out of business this winter. People can’t live without their vices, you know.”

With a laugh, she let the door swing shut behind her and stepped out into the snow-covered parking lot.

Brad faced Pete. “I can’t leave Yappy in the car, man. It’s too cold. We both need to warm up, and Bitty doesn’t have room for us to sit down inside the Pop-In. Listen, let me eat my wrap in here, and then we’ll get out of your way. Have you got any coffee?”

Pete studied him long enough that Brad began to feel uncomfortable—as though somehow the older man was able to see right through to his innermost thoughts. Like Yvonne, Pete surely must have surmised that Brad and Ashley had been fighting. He probably knew Brad had ended up sleeping in the car. With Yvonne’s flirting, Pete would suspect something was going on between the two of them. Maybe he even guessed that Brad hadn’t been able to pull together enough cash to buy a cup of Bitty Sondheim’s gourmet coffee.