Marriage Seasons 04 - Winter Turns to Spring (4 page)

“Stop that, you silly goober,” she murmured. “Now you’ve got to get into this tub and have a bath. No ifs, ands, or buts. Oh, Brad, I’ll bet he’s never been washed. Isn’t that awful? He looks like he crawled out from under a barn somewhere. I bet he misses his mama and his brothers and sisters. Poor little guy.”

Brad knelt beside Ashley as she placed the puppy in the tub again, held him firmly with one hand, and ladled warm water over him with the other. Knowing instinctively what she would want next, Brad squirted a trail of shampoo down the dog’s back.

2“Help me hold him,” Ashley instructed. “He’s not going to like this.”

Both grasping the squirming pup, they worked the shampoo into a lather. Instantly the foam turned brown as the dirt turned to sludge and began dripping into the tub. Ashley fussed and clucked over the dog while working shampoo through the long hair on his ears and body and down to the end of his tail. Just as she leaned back to take a breath, he gave a mighty shake, splattering the bathroom and its two human inhabitants with muddy suds.

“Oh no!” Ashley squealed, bursting into laughter. “Grab him, Brad. He’s getting away.”

The muck in the tub giving him traction, the dog was doing his best to leap out. Brad could hardly keep a grip on the slippery ball of bubbles.

“Yarp! Yarp! Yarp!”

“Run some clean water on him,” he told Ashley. “I can’t hold him.”

“He’s getting away!” she shrieked as the puppy shook himself again.

She cupped her hands under the running tap water and threw it over the dog.

Brad managed to wrap both hands around the animal’s tummy, spreading his fingers as if holding a football. Despite the howling and yowling, he shoved the puppy back into the warm stream and helped Ashley rinse him down.

“He’s brown!” she exclaimed. “And here’s a white spot on his head. Look at his legs—they’re white too. I thought he was gray, didn’t you? Let’s shampoo him again.”

“Again?”

Though Brad considered this a very iffy idea, he cooperated as his wife lathered the puppy one more time. Now the soap foamed up white, and the defeated dog submitted mournfully to his final rinse.

Grabbing a towel, Ashley wrapped the wet puppy and nestled him in her arms. “He’s so sweet,” she murmured. “Look at his big brown eyes, Brad. Isn’t he adorable? And now he smells good too. Poor boy. You’re lonely, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Just a lonely little baby boy.”

Brad perched on the toilet lid. It had to be one or two in the morning. In a few hours, he’d need to shower, drink some coffee, and head off to the condominium complex his employer was building near Sunrise Beach. Bill Walters didn’t like the men showing up late, and he had little tolerance for nonsense. The work was steady, it paid well, and he had made some good friends. But other than that, Brad couldn’t find much to like about his job. The last thing he needed to be doing was washing a puppy in the middle of the night.

“He’s really cute,” Ashley said, her own brown eyes turning on her husband. “You found him in a parking lot?”

“Larry’s. I was on my way in with Mack when we heard this racket coming out of a cardboard box. The little guy was inside. I couldn’t let him freeze.”

“Aww.” She leaned up and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I didn’t know you had such a soft spot.”

“Hmm.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

“What?” she asked.

“Sometimes I’m not sure you know much about me at all, Ash. Seems like we fight most of the time these days. It’s as though we’re enemies instead of two people who are supposed to be in love. A few minutes ago you said you were mad at me because I exist.”

“Don’t bring that up, Brad. I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She shook her head. “I’m so tired, and the house is a wreck, and we work all the time, and nothing is ever fun anymore.
We
aren’t fun. I don’t know what happened to us.”

“Brrrp … brrrp … brrrp …”

Ashley glanced down at the puppy in her arms and then smiled at Brad. “He’s asleep,” she whispered. “He must be exhausted. And look at this bathroom. And us.”

It was a sight to be seen, Brad had to admit. The white tile walls wore polka dots of brown mud. His shirt was sopping, and he was wearing only one sock. Ashley had the dog bundled up against her chin, but Brad had no doubt her nightgown would be dripping wet.

“I’ll rinse the tub,” he suggested, “and you find some kind of box for him to sleep in. How’s that?”

“I love you, Bradley Hanes,” she said, kissing him again. “I love you, and I want everything to be wonderful again for us.”

As he swirled clean water around in the tub, Brad shook his head. He did
not
understand his wife. Were all women so emotional, or was it just Ashley? How could she be hateful one minute and then turn lovey-dovey the next? Did she adore her husband for rescuing the puppy? Or did she simply adore the puppy?

Marriage was one big guessing game, Brad had decided. He never knew what he might find when he encountered his wife. She could be weeping over Esther Moore’s death, exulting about a large order for necklaces, angry with him for an offense he hadn’t realized he’d committed, or laughing because something funny had happened at the country club. And whatever mood she was in spilled right over onto Brad. How could a man ever win?

He knew he shouldn’t have brought home the dog. In the long run, the puppy would be trouble. But he had enjoyed seeing Ashley smile again. She was right about one thing. They rarely had fun anymore. All things considered, marriage was the pits.

Standing, he stretched his arms. Every muscle ached. He’d been lifting studs into place all day at the condo site, and his neck and biceps felt as though they’d been hit with a sledgehammer. Too tired to think straight, he brushed his teeth and tugged off his wet shirt. Ashley would be mad at him for not putting it into the dirty clothes pile in their closet, but at this point, he would be lucky to make it to the bed. He dropped his shirt on the bathroom floor along with his jeans and the single sock.

As he pushed open the door to their bedroom, he spotted his wife silhouetted in the moonlight streaming through the window. The damp blue flannel nightgown was gone. She was brushing her long hair, and he could see the outline of her every curve.

“Ash?” His exhaustion suddenly vanishing, Brad stepped up behind his wife and slipped his arms around her waist.

“Thank you for not going to Larry’s,” she whispered as he brushed his mouth across her lips. “Thank you for saving the puppy from freezing.”

“Thank you for taking off that gown.”

“I love you, Brad.” Turning in his embrace, she ran her hands over his shoulders and began to massage the taut muscles. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, pretty girl,” he murmured. “All yours.”

With a sigh of pleasure, she slipped onto the bed. Brad stretched out beside her, hardly able to believe that things were transforming so quickly from a nightmare into a dream. As their lips met, he felt something bump against his shoulder.

“Barp?”

At the sound, Brad’s breath hung in his chest. But Ashley laughed and curled closer into him.

“I couldn’t get the puppy to stay in his box,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Well, I—”

As she began to kiss his neck, Brad realized that of course he didn’t mind. Not at all.

“I heard Brad and Ashley Hanes got themselves a puppy,” Patsy Pringle commented as she began trimming Miranda Finley’s short blonde hair. “Some people are saying it’s a mutt, but others think it might be a purebred. You’re living next door—have you seen it?”

“Oh, all the time. Yappy, they’ve named him. Appropriate—the dog talks nonstop. I’ve never heard anything like it. Based on the ears and the vocalizations, I suspect he is part Cavalier King Charles spaniel. There’s evidence of a Blenheim spot on his head, which could be significant, but I think I see a trace of border collie and maybe some golden retriever, too. No, I’m sure Yappy has no pedigree. Trust me on that, Patsy. I used to be a regular at the dog shows in St. Louis.”

Since moving to the lake area the previous spring, Miranda had become a regular client at Patsy’s beauty salon, Just As I Am. After Esther Moore’s death, she had thoughtfully requested the weekly Friday afternoon appointment Esther had kept for years. Patsy was grateful. Somehow having a friend in the chair and the assurance of interesting conversation made the hour pass a little easier.

“You’ve been to dog shows? For fun?” Patsy couldn’t imagine such an activity being interesting. Recently she had learned to enjoy attending stock car races with her fiancé. Pete Roberts, owner of the tackle shop next door, was a serious NASCAR fan. Dog shows and car races. To each his own, she supposed.

“I have dear friends who own an adorable bichon frise,” Miranda explained. “She won several blue ribbons, and her pups are in high demand. Can you take a little more off the back, Patsy? I’m wearing turtlenecks so often these days. You know how easy it is for the hair to sit in just the wrong place with a high collar like that? I wouldn’t wear a turtleneck normally, but I have to spend so much time in and out of the new house that I’ve started layering. Turtlenecks, sweaters, jackets, coats. It makes everything easier. I can peel them off one at a time when I start to feel warm.”

“How are you getting along over there?” Patsy asked. A few weeks back, Miranda had purchased the long-vacant home next to the Haneses’ little place. The house had a wonderful view of the lake but not much square footage. Also—though Patsy hated to bring this up—rumor had it the wood framing was riddled with termites, just as Ashley and Brad’s house had been. She sincerely hoped Miranda had ordered an inspection.

“To tell you the truth,” the older woman said, “the move from St. Louis has been overwhelming. If I didn’t have Charlie Moore helping me, I don’t know what I’d do. The pest company found termites, you know.”

Patsy sucked in a breath. “Really?”

“Of course that dropped the price considerably, but the kitchen and spare bedroom are nothing but matchsticks. Thank goodness Charlie is such a sweet man. I had asked him earlier if he would mind helping me move furniture. But as it turns out, he’s actually rebuilding a large part of the structure of my house. We’re adding a bay window to the kitchen so I can put a table there to look out on the lake in the morning. The bedroom is getting a new closet and window frames. I ended up putting all my furnishings and decor in storage until I can safely move in without falling through the floor.”

“Gracious sakes.” Patsy rubbed some gel on her hands and began to work it through Miranda’s hair. “I had no idea the house was that bad. Well, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt Charlie to stay busy these days. He must be missing Esther something awful. I can’t imagine losing a loved one right in the middle of the holidays. He looked devastated at Thanksgiving, like he was in a daze. I guess he must have been, too. I think we all were.”

“I’m not as upset about Esther’s death as most, I imagine.” Miranda studied herself in the mirror as Patsy manipulated the short strands into place. “I know my beliefs aren’t popular around here, but I’m convinced that Esther Moore’s beautiful soul has already found a new home. The cycle of life goes on, and as humans we join the rest of the world in the eternal rotation of regeneration and renewal.”

It was hard for Patsy to hold back a snort of derision. She understood how important it was to respect the faiths of others. Still, Miranda’s crazy idea that Esther might have been reincarnated was a little too much. One of the strongest, most righteous churchgoing women Patsy had ever met, Esther lived out her faith on a daily basis.

“I do agree that Esther has gone on to a better place,” Patsy said. “An eternal place. I call it heaven.”

Miranda took Patsy’s hand and beckoned her closer. As Patsy bent down, Miranda whispered, “Esther is the puppy.”

“What?” Patsy exclaimed, stiffening.

“The dog Brad found the other day. Yappy. I’m convinced Esther’s timeless essence has returned to help Ashley.”

“Esther is a
dog
?” Stricken by Miranda’s words, Patsy couldn’t keep her voice as low as she usually did. In the salon, the strains of her favorite music covered the whir of blow-dryers, the chatter of women in black vinyl chairs, and the clink of cups and saucers in the tea area. But Miranda’s comment was just too much.

“That puppy is a
male
,” Patsy declared, hand on her hip. “He’s just a mutt Brad found in a cardboard box at Larry’s Lake Lounge and took home to keep him from freezing to death. Now, come on, Miranda. You can’t tell me you really believe Esther Moore came back as a dog.”

“Not Esther herself. Her
soul
. And why not? We both believe in the eternal spirit of life. You think the soul begins at birth and passes through death into some sort of reward-based heaven.”

“Or hell,” Patsy couldn’t resist adding. “And you don’t go to either place as a reward. According to the Bible, you can’t get into heaven because of the way you acted on earth. It all has to do with your faith.”

“Well, yes … I know your views, Patsy. It seems like every time I turn around here at the lake, someone is preaching at me. But I believe the spirit has no beginning and no end. It simply
is
. Divine energy indwells each of us, and Esther’s soul—if that’s what you want to call it—has gone into a being that will help someone who is in need. Her friend Ashley.”