Summer Breeze (18 page)
Lydia opened her purse and pulled out a school photograph of a girl who didn’t have half her beauty. What had gotten into that giggly little pumpkin who used to hold her twin brother’s hand as they selected goodies with their mother in the tea area?
When Lydia called the salon to make an appointment, one of the other stylists had taken the message. Now Patsy was beginning to wonder if Kim Finley even knew what her daughter was up to.
“Tiffany’s got some natural wave, see?” Patsy said, pointing to the photo. “Your hair wouldn’t look the same even if we did give it that style. Does your mother want me to cut it so short, honey? Or did she drop you off here just for a trim?”
As Lydia’s pretty lips pinched shut, Patsy noted the film of pink lip gloss coating them. She also saw a dusting of frosted eye shadow on the girl’s eyelids and some clumpy mascara stuck to her lashes. Hmmm. This was beginning to spell trouble with a capital
T
.
“I’ve got an idea,” Patsy said. “You sit tight while I call your mom at Dr. Groene’s office. She can tell me exactly what the two of you discussed.”
“No, wait!” Lydia caught Patsy’s arm. “I rode my bike over here by myself, and I’m spending my
own
money for this haircut. My mother has nothing to do with it.”
“Really? Don’t you still live at home?” Patsy swung the chair toward the mirror and snapped a plastic cape around Lydia’s neck. “My parents always said I could make my own decisions when I lived in my own house and paid my own bills and ate my own cooking. Until then, I was under their thumb.”
“I’m not under anyone’s thumb. My real dad doesn’t live with us, so Luke and I don’t even have parents like yours. We live with Derek and our fake grandma, who doesn’t even like us. She told us we were nothing but a gigantic pain.”
“Really? Miranda said that?” Patsy began combing out Lydia’s long hair. “Oh, maybe she said it that time you two ran off from her and Cody at the library and she couldn’t find you. I guess she must have been pretty upset. People sometimes say and do things they don’t mean when they get angry. You know what I did one time when I got mad?”
Lydia’s brown eyes swiveled from gazing at herself in the mirror to focusing on Patsy. “Yes. You refused to eat a single slice of the watermelon Pete Roberts brought over to the hospital the night Luke went into the emergency room. You told Pete he could stick that watermelon in his ear.”
Suddenly going warm, Patsy fanned herself with her hand. “Did I say that?”
“Uh-huh. Pete brought your watermelon from the wagon under the tree. He cut it up for everyone to eat while they waited to find out about Luke. Mom and I ate some, and even Grandma Finley said it was good—and she never likes anything she didn’t do herself. But you wouldn’t touch it. You said you didn’t ever want to talk to Pete again.”
“Oh, dear.”
More than a week had passed since the Independence Day chair incident, and Patsy had kept to her word. Once, she and Pete had passed each other in the hospital corridor while visiting Luke. Patsy had turned her head and pretended to be talking to Opal Jones, who didn’t even have her hearing aids in. And Patsy had refused to speak to Pete at church last Sunday. They didn’t sit together or go out to eat at Aunt Mamie’s Good Food in Camdenton after the service. She hadn’t thanked him for the pretty antique teacup he had left on her doorstep the previous morning. In fact, she hadn’t even read the accompanying note.
“Well, it isn’t every day that a man makes a spectacle of you in front of your friends,” Patsy told Lydia. “I
was
mad at Pete, and I still am. But what I was going to tell you about was the time I got mad at my father for telling me I was fat. Just like you, I decided to cut my hair off so I could be a whole different person. I wasn’t much older than you, and I went into my bedroom, got my scissors, and snipped off every long curl on my head.”
“But you change your hair all the time, Patsy.” Lydia took the comb and began parting her hair in different places. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. You style it and color it and put in extensions whenever you want. That’s what you do whether you’re mad at someone or not.”
“But you’re missing my point, honey. Cutting your pretty hair off isn’t going to change anything. All it’ll do is give you short hair. It won’t fix your brother’s diabetes or bring your first daddy home or make your grandma friendlier.”
“I never said it would.” Lydia’s voice rose. “I’m almost in sixth grade, and I want to look older. I want people to stop treating me like a little girl. I’m nearly eleven!”
“Eleven.” Patsy shook her head. “I’ll tell you what I tell all my clients. You should never make a big change when you’re in the middle of a crisis. And you sure shouldn’t cut your hair just because you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, so are you, and look what you did. You got rid of those blonde curls you had at the Fourth of July picnic, and now it’s straight and brown. So, cut my hair—” she reached for the scissors—“or I will!”
“Give me those!” Patsy snatched her shears away and crossed her arms. But when she glanced in the mirror, she saw that she and Lydia had the exact same expressions on their faces.
“Everyone keeps telling me that nothing can fix Luke.” The girl’s eyes welled. “But I just want things to be different, Patsy. Starting with me.”
“Real changes start inside a person. You know that, don’t you, Lydia?” Patsy asked gently. “God looks at the heart, because that’s what matters most to Him. And. … well, you’ve helped me see that my heart is hard and cold toward my neighbor. Pete embarrassed me, and I don’t know how to forgive him. But I have to change my way of thinking. And you do too. You’ve got to accept your brother’s diabetes. You’ve got to realize what a good dad Derek is to you and Luke, even though he’s not your birth father. You’ve got to accept Grandma Finley, too. She’s trying to help. Everyone is doing their best.”
As she spoke, Patsy had begun snipping at Lydia’s hair, but it was hard to see through the tears in her own eyes. When Pete Roberts had pushed her into that lawn chair the other day, she had felt so humiliated she wanted to die right then and there. It was as if all the sensitivity and humiliation she had felt during adolescence came rushing back. In those days, her weight had gone up and down as she tried one diet after another. The time her father criticized her, she had retaliated by attacking herself—butchering her hair before she knew anything about style and color. A small voice sometimes still taunted her about it. At the barbecue, everyone had laughed at her, and she sensed that if Luke Finley hadn’t collapsed on the beach, her pratfall would still be the talk of Deepwater Cove.
She had blamed Pete, but it was the Lord who had chosen to give Patsy a generous bosom and more than sufficient hips. God made her who she was, body and soul. Was she angry with Him? herself? Or Pete?
“Are you crying?” Lydia’s voice was high and hollow. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Patsy.”
“You didn’t, sweetie. You helped me take a look at my own failings, which are many. Refusing to forgive Pete is just one, but I need to deal with it.”
Lydia sniffled. “What are you gonna do?”
“I guess I’ll have to go next door and talk to him, won’t I?” She sighed. “I have to forgive him, even though he makes me madder than a wet hen. And you? How about some wispy bangs, a couple inches off the bottom, and a few layers? You won’t look like Tiffany, but why should you? You’re Lydia, and I’m proud to know you.”
The girl’s face brightened, and she nodded. “Okay, bangs and layers. That’s a good start, Patsy.”
“It sure is.”
K
im slipped into a pair of sandals and grabbed her Bible off the bedside table. If she didn’t get the twins out the door in the next five minutes, they were going to be late for church again. It never failed—a last-minute hullabaloo as everyone searched for purses, Bibles, tithe money, matching shoes, jackets, you name it. The fuss often continued all the way to church, but by the time the service was over and the family gathered for lunch, everyone was reasonably cheerful.
After running a brush through her hair, Kim misted it with a little spray, gave one last glance through her jewelry box for her favorite pair of gold earrings, and then gave up. There was no time to keep looking. She must have laid them down somewhere else.
“Luke! Lydia!” she called into the twins’ rooms as she hurried down the hall toward the living room. “Are you guys ready to go?”
As she entered the foyer, Kim was surprised to find Derek standing there in a pair of khaki slacks and a polo shirt. The last thing she had seen before heading for the shower was Derek and his mother eating blueberry muffins and drinking coffee out on the deck.
“I didn’t know you were going to play golf this morning,” she said. Derek rarely went out on the course unless some of the other officers needed a fourth. When he had a rare Sunday off, he usually rested most of the day.
She called down the hall again. “Lydia, Luke, you’d better get out to the car this minute.” And then back to her husband. “I hope you won’t play more than nine holes, honey. I’ve got a chicken in the oven, and I was hoping we could have a nice lunch together. I put in onions, potatoes, carrots—everything you like. And your mom promised she’d slide my bread into the oven before we get home. I hope she doesn’t forget like last time. Would you please remind her?”
Luke dashed into the foyer, his shirttail hanging out and a dollop of toothpaste on his chin. “I can’t find my insulin kit!”
“I’ve got it in my purse. I told you at breakfast.” She huffed out a breath as she wiped her son’s chin. “Tuck in your shirt, Luke. You’re almost eleven; you should know that by now. Where’s your sister?”
“She’s scared to come out.”
“Scared? Why?”
“She borrowed your favorite earrings without telling you, and she’s afraid you’ll notice and make her take them off.”
“Lydia took my—” Kim shook her head as she pushed her son toward the door. “Oh, for pete’s sake, Lydia, come on out. You can wear my earrings today, but in the future please ask before borrowing my things.”
At the sight of Derek in his slacks and shirt, Luke let out a grumble of annoyance. “You promised to take me with you the next time you went golfing, Derek,” he said. “Mom, I don’t want to go to church. I want to go with—”
“We’re
all
going to church,” Derek announced. “All except Grandma Finley, who’s in her bedroom lighting incense to her ‘inner deity.’”
Kim realized she was standing there with her mouth open, but she suddenly couldn’t move. Had Derek just said he was going to church? With the family?
“Can I wear your blue sweater, Mom? It matches my outfit.”
Lydia came down the hall carrying the delicate cashmere cardigan Derek had bought for Kim on their first Christmas. She had admired it in one of the shops in Osage Beach, but it had been way too expensive. Yet there it had lain—wrapped in gold and tied with a red bow—under the tree that perfect, snowy morning.
When Kim didn’t respond to her daughter’s query, Derek did. “Ask
first
,” he said, holding out a hand for the sweater. “You heard your mother.”
“But it matches!” Lydia stamped her foot. “You can’t tell me what to—”
“Get in the car!” Derek barked. As they left the house, he called back through the door. “We’re going to church, Mother. Don’t stink up the place too bad.” Guiding Kim with a hand on her back, he muttered, “Man, I hate that stuff she burns. Smells like a gas station bathroom.”
Kim still hadn’t spoken when the car rolled backward out of the drive and started toward the entrance to the Deepwater Cove subdivision. She didn’t know what to think, and she certainly couldn’t figure out what to say.
Derek was going to church! But why? What had happened? Was God really answering her prayers with a resounding
yes
? Or was this just a whim of Derek’s? Or did he have some ulterior purpose?
“You told on me, didn’t you?” Lydia accused her brother in the backseat. “I knew you’d tell her I was wearing them. You can’t ever keep a secret, you blabbermouth.”
“Do you think she’s blind?” Luke asked. “First you sneaked off to get your hair cut. Then you went and got Mom’s sweater. You think she was gonna look right past her own earrings? You’re dumb.”
“Don’t touch me. Mom, Luke punched me in the shoulder.”
“Tattletale,” Luke said.
“Luke, don’t you dare tell what I said about Tiffany. You promised.”
“What, that she’s got a boyfriend who’s sixteen?”
At that, Kim’s brain snapped into gear. She turned around in time to see Lydia haul off and slap her brother across the cheek. Luke snarled and drew back a fist.
Kim caught his arm just in time. “Stop it, both of you!” she cried. “Luke, don’t even think about hitting your sister. And, Lydia, you’re grounded. Give me those earrings.”
“Told you!” Luke taunted his sister.
“You can’t ground me any more than you already have,” Lydia said. “I’m already up to three weeks, and that’s almost the start of school.”
Luke chimed in, “Besides, Grandma Finley lets her do anything she wants while you’re at work, Mom. Grounding is dumb.”
As she put on the gold earrings, Kim glanced at Derek. The small muscle in his jaw flickered as he drove, eyes focused on the road. She swallowed. They could
not
have an argument now—not with Derek on the way to church. This was a miracle, an obvious answer to prayer, and if the twins did anything to jeopardize it …
“No more arguing in the car,” Kim said, “or you won’t get dessert after lunch. I made sugar-free chocolate pie, so that goes for you, too, Luke.”
For a few blessed moments, the two hellions in the backseat fell quiet. Kim clutched her purse, trying to think what to say to fill the silence. They were passing the row of shops in Tranquility, and she could see the church steeple in the distance.
How could she make herself sound casual when she was so excited to have Derek joining the family for church? This was no ordinary outing. This was the potential start to a whole new life. If she and Derek were united in their faith, nothing could come between them. They could pray as one, discuss problems in light of God’s will, maybe even read the Bible together. They would be like Brenda and Steve or Charlie and Esther. An ideal family.
