Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (33 page)

A firefighter carrying a water hose pushed past him as Brad descended from Miranda Finley’s deck into her yard. Ice-coated grass crunched underfoot. Chain saw in hand, Brad stepped into the road and then turned around to survey the house he had just exited. He could hardly believe it was the same place that had stood next door only hours earlier. Shattered glass and torn shingles lay scattered across the lawn. There was no roofline. Skeletal tree branches protruded from what had been the living room. Water used to douse the flame already formed icicles in the frigid air.

“You all right, buddy?”

Brad looked to find Charlie Moore standing beside him. Bundled in a heavy overcoat and a black-and-red checkered woodsman’s cap, the older man was frowning. “You don’t look good, Brad. Better let a medic take a listen to those lungs.”

“I’m fine.” Brad coughed out the words.

Charlie’s left eyebrow lifted. “Never listen, do you?”

“I’ve listened to you more than I do most people, Mr. Moore. But I’m okay. I just need to catch my breath. It was cold in there. And hot, too. Weird, huh?”

“That was quite a blaze.”

Brad set the chain saw on the sidewalk. “When I got to Mrs. Finley, she said she’d left candles burning all night. She got pinned under a limb and watched her living room drapes catch fire. We did the candle thing too—Ashley and me. By this morning, they had melted and gone out.”

“Wait—Ashley stayed with you? Really?”

Brad nodded. Rubbing his scratchy eyes, he tried to recall how that miracle had happened. Immobilized by weather and darkness, Ashley had remained inside their home. Somehow—by the grace of God—she had actually listened to him.

“Well, she couldn’t get out,” he admitted. “Pete’s truck is stuck in our—”

“Brad!”

At the familiar voice, he turned. All arms and legs, Ashley skidded down the street and fell into his arms. “Oh, thank goodness you didn’t die. Are you hurt? Did you get cut? Or burned? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Hardly able to believe that the slender redhead was clinging to him, Brad glanced at Charlie Moore in surprise. “Yeah, Ash. I’m good.”

She lifted her face to his, her brown eyes aglow. “Brad, you saved Mrs. Finley!”

“Sure. I mean, I cut some branches.”

“You saved her life! And you’re okay!” Ashley was blinking back tears. “I’m so glad.”

“Mrs. Finley’s going to be fine too. She might have a broken arm, but that’s no big deal.”

“Not for
you
, maybe. You’re tough.”

Smiling down at her, Brad noted that Charlie had sidled off to rescue a fireman from Cody. “Are
you
okay, Ashley?” He brushed away a tear from her cheek, and his fingertips left two streaks of soot on her pale skin. “What’s the matter, honey?”

Before she could respond, the ambulance siren went off, splitting the chilled air with its wail. As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, a sudden roar went up from the watching crowd. Brad glanced over to see sparks spurt from the top of a utility pole. A loud hum was followed by the blink of the Hansen family’s porch light. Evidently the electrical co-op had just restored power to Deepwater Cove.

But Brad was far more interested in the woman in his embrace. This was
Ashley
. She had her arms around him and her face pressed against his chest, and she was crying. And suddenly he realized her tears had nothing to do with fear of the fire or worry about Miranda Finley.

She was sobbing over
him
.

He swallowed. “Ash?”

“Brad, I have to say something to you right now,” she choked out. “It’s about us. About me. I did bad things in our marriage too.”

Fear shot through him like an arrow. “You did? Was it that guy at your job? Jay?”

“Customer services Jay?” She frowned. “He’s my dad’s age. He has six kids and a bunch of grandkids and … what—you thought I
liked
Jay? No!” Ashley shook her head in disbelief. “I’m trying to tell you that I know I played a part in our problems. I was selfish about my beads and my job. I was mad at you and worried about our debt. I didn’t trust you, so I pulled away and then I got all caught up in myself. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t say I was sorry. I was too angry. But now I really mean it. I’m sorry.”

Brad couldn’t hold back a grin. “Wow, Ash. That’s quite an apology.”

“I’m serious!” She swatted his shoulder. Then she looked into his eyes and her face suddenly crumpled as she began crying again. “Oh, Brad, this has all been so awful! I didn’t want to admit my part. But I can’t keep denying the truth. And … and now I don’t know what to do. I’m still mad and hurt, and I’m scared, too. I want to believe you’ve changed. I wish I could trust you. Today is our anniversary. If we could fix things, that would be wonderf-f-f—”

“Hey now.” He pulled her closer. “Let’s give this to God, Ash. I don’t want to live the rest of my life wading around in the pain of the past. I want to focus on today. And the future.”

“Me, too.”

Brad felt the first wave of real hope surge up inside him. “You do?”

“I think so.”

“You mean you’re willing to give our marriage another shot?”

“Yeah.” Her voice wavered on the brink of tears.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m not. It’s going to be hard. I don’t have very much faith.”

“I’ll do my best to live up to however much faith you can put in me. I believe we can make it, Ashley. Just walk beside me. Stay with me until it gets better. Will you do that?”

Sniffling deeply, she looked up at him. “I will,” she whispered.

“Oh, Ash, you are the most beautiful girl in the world.” He studied her tear-streaked face and tangled hair. “Could I … would you mind … is it okay if I kiss you?”

Trembling in his arms, she nodded. Gently, he brushed his mouth across her lips. Eyes closed, he breathed in the scent of his wife’s sweetness, the familiar fragrance that drifted from her skin and hair.

“Kissing you feels like a prayer,” he murmured.

“Don’t let go of me, Brad. Don’t stop holding me ever again. It’s crazy, but I still love you.”

“I love you, Ashley. Happy anniversary to us. I can’t wait to start our new life together.”

As he spoke the words, Brad opened his eyes. In the distance, he saw Charlie Moore standing beside Patsy Pringle. They were both smiling.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A
shley walked beside Jennifer to the front door. They had worked on a big bead order all day, and both were exhausted. With a brief hug of farewell, they agreed on a time to meet the next morning.

As the weeks had passed following the ice storm, a season of warmth had slowly slipped into Deepwater Cove. Bright blue skies and sunny days greened up the grass, urged daffodils and tulips to pop out of the ground, and swelled leaf buds. Cardinals and robins hunted for nesting twigs as they sang out in search of mates. Forsythias unfurled yellow blossoms as squirrels played chase among the redbud branches. And to everyone’s delight, the pink and white dogwoods began to bloom.

Ashley was shutting the door just as Brad’s car pulled into the carport. Her stomach instantly knotted. She was still committed to trying to salvage their marriage. But despite her willingness to forgive, her fears, hurt, and even some anger lingered.

From the window, she watched him gather sacks of groceries. Ashley had taken him up on his offer to be an open book. She
did
check on her husband. If he said he was going to an AA meeting, she called Pete Roberts to make sure he was there. Once he went to the post office to mail several packets of necklaces for her, and she followed him in secret. She regularly drove by Larry’s Lake Lounge and scanned the parking lot. He had never once lied.

But that was only a short period of honesty. It was important, but Ashley needed a lifetime. Her forgiveness could not remove the consequences of Brad’s wrongdoing—and he knew it.

For her part, she had set out to address the issues that had divided them. Because she no longer worked at the country club, her new schedule meant the couple had plenty of time together. Her bead business continued to thrive, and Brad suggested she churn the profits back into the little company. But Ashley wanted to reduce their debt, and so they had sat at their dining room table for many hours talking, planning, and paying bills. Now that their new room addition had become her workshop, she made sure she was home to greet him when he got in from the construction site.

“Hey, Ash.” A grin tilting one corner of his mouth, Brad stepped into the house. Before she could respond, he swept a cluster of red roses from behind his back. It was the fourth bouquet that week.

“Oh, they’re beautiful.” She mustered a smile and kissed his cheek. “They smell wonderful.”

“Not as good as you.” Carrying the groceries into the kitchen, he tracked the usual trail of dirt through the living room. Thank goodness the man had taken up vacuuming. He set the bags on the counter. “So how’s the bead queen tonight?”

“The queen is happy,” she reported. “I think I can mail all the bracelets by Monday afternoon.”

For a moment, he looked concerned. “Are you planning to work this weekend?”

“No. We’re nearly done.”

“Good, because I have a plan. Don’t even ask. Not telling.”

Ashley had to laugh. Brad was trying so hard to win her heart that he was about to wear himself out. He regularly vacuumed floors, did laundry, and helped scrub the bathroom. When he had blurted out a sarcastic comment about her cooking one evening, he apologized so profusely that she finally had to kiss him into silence.

That part of their marriage was going to need some time to fully heal. Ashley still loved her husband’s touch, and many times each day he would take her into his arms. Brad seemed to understand how much it meant to her to be held, and every time he hugged or kissed her or even played with her hair, she felt a little more of the ache slip away. She had faith that with enough time and gentleness from Brad, she could eventually let go of her pain and experience the joy of rekindled desire.

“Oh, come on,” she said, setting a hand on her hip. “Tell me what you’re planning. Saturday is the Dogwood Festival, you know. Mrs. Finley is going to sell my beads and wants me to be there.”

He feigned hurt. “Do you think I would forget something like the Dogwood Festival? I helped Mr. Moore build the sets for his photo shoots. Hey, what smells so good?”

“It’s chili.” She shook off memories of his former attitude. “But this is not how we made it at the snack shop. Mrs. Moore gave me this recipe and …”

Brad folded her into his arms and kissed her lips. “I’ll love it. Especially because you got it from her.”

Ashley lingered, enjoying the strength of his embrace and running her fingers over the muscles in his arms. And then—without warning—she thought of Yvonne Ratcliff. Her hands had touched Brad’s body too. Ashley pushed away from him, turning to take bowls and plates down from the kitchen cabinet.

That afternoon, following the regular TLC meeting, she had stayed late, talking with Patsy and some of the other women. Patsy believed Ashley’s doubts were the old devil poking at her, trying to steer her off course. Brenda and Kim agreed. They said that in marriage, some pain never quite went away. But both acknowledged they had hurt their husbands, too. Blame went both ways. And in time, healing would ease the sting.

It helped a lot to have the support of women she respected, Ashley acknowledged as she ladled chili into the bowls and set them on the table. Brad attended the men’s Bible study in Pete’s shop, and he said how much it meant to hear the others discuss struggles similar to his.

“Mack’s going down the tubes,” Brad commented as he pulled his chair away from the table. “I talked to Bill Walters about him at work today, but we don’t know what to do. I think he might be getting into drugs.”

Ashley sat down and reached for a napkin. “Are you serious? What makes you say that?”

“He’s missed a lot of work. It might be hangovers, but I heard him talking the other day. Sounded like he was revved up on something.”

“I hope not.”

He tilted his head. “I thought you hated Mack.”

“I didn’t like it that he was your best friend, but—”

“Not anymore. That’s the past.” Brad frowned for a moment. “I’m sorry to cut you off. I just don’t like talking about all that happened. I feel sick when I think about it. You know—sick inside.”

“I know.”

Their eyes met, and she read the sorrow on his face. She reached across the table and took his hand. “I love you, Brad.”

He let out a breath. “I love you, too, Ash.”

Squeezing his fingers, she smiled. “Are you going to pray?”

As he bowed his head and began talking to God, Ashley lifted up her own silent offering of thanks. Praying was yet another thing that had begun to alter their lives. To Ashley’s surprise, she discovered she was beginning to trust the changes in her husband. Brad was in the midst of a battle, but he wasn’t alone in the war. Not only did he have the friendship and support of the men of Deepwater Cove, he had God.

Ashley’s heart had begun to soften toward religion. Though she had seen enough unpleasant things about so-called Christians to make her wary, her eyes had been opened in a new way. Jesus, she began to understand, brought a genuine difference into people’s lives. Patsy and Jennifer had been telling her that, but with Brad, she actually
saw
it. Her husband wanted to be a new and better man—and he was slowly but surely transforming right in front of her.