Summer Breeze (20 page)
“You like to talk. I don’t. We’re different, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “We can’t be different. Not with this. We have to be united. You want to lock our problems away like prisoners, but what happens when the prisoners get released or break out? And they always do.”
“They get out, cause a little trouble, so we round them up and put them back in jail.”
She reached for another tissue. “If you won’t talk, will you at least listen to me?”
“I heard you already. You and the kids.”
“Did you hear me say I want your mother to leave? Did you listen to Luke when he came back for his kit? That’s how they
really
feel, honey. They love you. It’s not like Lydia said.”
“Kim, I’m trained to listen to people. I carry a recorder when I’m on duty so I don’t miss a word. It’s my job to hear things exactly as spoken.”
“But you can’t listen just to the words! You have to hear what’s beneath them. You have to listen to people’s feelings and behaviors and attitudes.”
He gave her a long look. “I’m not like you, Kim. I hear what people say, and I take them at their word.”
“And then you lock them up behind bars of silence.”
The mute hostility continued until they finally arrived back at the house. Miranda was outside in her nightgown and slippers, snipping blooms off the tea roses that Kim had worked so hard and with such patience to grow.
Spotting the car, Miranda lifted a hand and waved. “You both came back!” she said as Derek switched off the engine and opened the door. “How nice! I’m cutting a bouquet for our luncheon table. It’s so drab and dreary in the dining room—all those bare windows! I thought we needed a lovely centerpiece to draw everyone’s focus and brighten things up. Oh, Derek, will you fetch one of those vases from the garage? Kim has put them up so high I can’t reach them.”
Feeling as though her last hope had been snipped off like a rose that had just begun to bloom, Kim stepped out of the car. She clutched her Bible and fought tears once again.
“Kim, you’ll be happy to hear my news!” Miranda strolled over, a large cluster of red blossoms in her basket—and the rosebush behind her completely bare. “After hearing those awful comments Derek made about my incense, I decided I should make some changes. So I’ve set up my altar out on the deck. That way I’ll have plenty of room to perform my yoga and tai chi movements, I can meditate to the sound of the birds in the trees, and no one will be bothered by the fragrance of my patchouli incense—though I have to say, I like it better than the potpourri you’ve put in those little baskets around the house. See? Things just have a wonderful way of working out, don’t they?”
With that she swung away and hurried over to Kim’s patch of newly opened daylilies.
P
atsy was putting the final strokes of topcoat on Ashley Hanes’s fingernails when she noticed Cody sweeping up under another stylist’s station. The curly-haired young man focused on his work with all the concentration of a brain surgeon. Ever since he had started helping out at Just As I Am, she noted, the salon looked fresh, clean, and tidy.
“I hear Cody’s turning out to be quite an artist,” Ashley said.
“It sure took me by surprise,” Patsy replied. “The first thing I realized was that he had a kind of flair for organizing the styling tools. He wound their cords just so and placed gel, spray, mousse, and shampoo in neat rows.”
“Didn’t he work on the curtains, too?”
“Yes, Brenda Hansen taught him how to use the washing machine, and the next thing I knew, he had washed every curtain in the salon and then hung them up again. He found a long piece of ribbon, snipped it up, and used it to pull them back.”
“I thought he could barely tie his shoes,” Ashley said. “And now he’s making beautiful bows?”
“Not only that. See those flowers on the checkout desk? I never could get them to look right. But Cody went to work on them, and now they get so many compliments that I bought more flowers for him to put into garlands and posies.”
“I didn’t know Cody made those! I saw they were for sale, so I bought one and hung it over our bed. Brad hasn’t noticed, but I think it looks really pretty.”Ashley reflected for a moment. “What got him started on painting the walls?”
“I noticed he was always looking at the hairdo magazines. He told me he would like to paint those pretty ladies, if only he could. So I bought him a watercolor pad, some brushes, and some paper—and lo and behold if Cody didn’t knock the socks off everyone with his portraits. So I just decided to give him the whole wall. He works on it every day and night whenever he has a spare moment.”
Both women studied the large mural. Then Ashley said, “There’s something kind of weird about it. Do you know who those women remind me of?”
“Jennifer Hansen?” Patsy asked.
“Yeah. What’s the deal with that? Does Cody have a crush on her or something?”
“Oh, I think he sees her when he’s over at the Hansen house working with Brenda on his social skills and his reading.”
“I hope he’s not getting too attached to Jennifer. I heard she’s going to be a missionary.”
Patsy nodded. Steve and Brenda’s older daughter had returned to Deepwater Cove after a mission trip to Africa. Jennifer had her heart set on living in a jungle somewhere and teaching people about God. She was beautiful, smart as a whip, and sweeter than molasses. But she hadn’t even noticed the moon-eyed young man who dawdled nearby every time she came in for a trim. One of these days that girl was going to recognize herself on the wall of Just As I Am, and Patsy feared that her reaction might hurt poor Cody.
“I’ve made every station span,” Cody announced just then, broom in hand as he walked toward Patsy. “I’ll mop tonight. Would it be okay if I painted for a while?”
“It’s almost time for the TLC meeting,” she told him. “Don’t you want to join us?”
“No thanks. But thank you anyway.”
Patsy smiled. “Ashley, I’m going to go check the appointment book. You keep your nails under the dryer for a few minutes; then you’re done.”
Cody accompanied her across the room. “You did a great job today, as always, Cody. This place looks so good I hardly recognize it.”
“Yes, you do. This is Just As I Am. It’s your beauty salon.”
“It sure is.” She reached out and ruffled his curls. “You might be due for a trim one of these days, sugar pie. We don’t want your hair getting all matted up again.”
Cody gazed down at the floor for a moment as if searching for words. Then he lifted his head. “I want to tell you something, Patsy Pringle. Here it is. I want to say thank you for shaving off my hair a long time ago when I first came to Deepwater Cove. And thank you for giving me a job. And for paying me real money. And for buying me watercolors and paper. And for letting me paint your walls. And for—”
“Good gravy, that’s about enough!” She laughed and gave him a warm hug. “Just seeing your smile is all the thanks I need.”
“But here’s the last thing I want to say. Even though you never gave me chocolate cake, I think you’re a real Christian. My daddy taught me lots of Bible verses, and when I say them in my mind, I think of you because you’re like the good people in the Bible. And that tells me you’re a Christian.”
Patsy swallowed. “Well, that’s so nice.”
As she had at least a hundred times a day, Patsy gave a guilty glance across the salon at the wall dividing her shop from Pete’s Rods-N-Ends. She knew she ought to go over there and make peace with the man. Not only had Lydia Finley challenged her, but every Scripture she read and each whispered word in her heart told her to forgive him.
“Pete says you are an apple.” Cody nodded as he spoke. “That’s what he told me yesterday. He said you’re mad at him, because you fell through the chair and everyone laughed, including me. We were laughing because your bare feet were sticking up in the air. It was very funny. I still laugh about it when I remember how you looked, Patsy. But Pete said you’re upset, because you believe people laughed because they think you’re fat. But you are
not
fat. You’re an apple. That’s what. An apple.”
Patsy stared at the earnest blue eyes. All she could picture was a big, round, red apple, and if that’s what Pete thought of her, well, she ought to just wring his neck. But Cody was standing there looking at her, watching to see what she would do.
She set her hands on her hips. “Did you come over here and talk to me about being a Christian because you know I’m upset with Pete?”
“
Are
you mad at him?”
Was Cody really as innocent as he sounded? Or was this all an elaborate ploy to prod her into doing what she’d been putting off for days?
“I wish you and Pete would be friends again.”
“All right then. Enough is enough!” Patsy shook her head. “Are you sure Pete Roberts called me an
apple
?”
“Yes, and of all the fruits, that’s my favorite one. Except for oranges. And watermelons. And also peaches.”
Sighing, Patsy walked over to the tea area, where the women were already gathering for the meeting. She took down one of the two antique teacup sets that Pete had given her to replace those he’d broken when he first moved in next door. After filling the cup with tea, milk, and sugar, she selected two chocolate-chip cookies and put them on the saucer. Cody had followed her, nearly stepping on her heels the whole way.
Patsy swung around and poked him in the chest with a long, pink, acrylic fingernail. “You stay here.” She frowned to emphasize her point. “I will do this myself.”
“And it’s about time you did.”
Rolling her eyes, Patsy carried the teacup across the salon and out the front door. Leave it to Cody to push her into something she didn’t want to do. It might be the Christian thing to do, but forgiving a person who had wounded you deeply was just plain hard.
Worse, Pete hadn’t asked for forgiveness. That made things doubly difficult. If a person got down on bended knees and apologized and said how wrong he was and how bad he felt, then pardoning him would be a lot easier. But that shaggy ol’ bear of a man wasn’t the type to say he was sorry. No, he just told Cody and everyone how spiteful Patsy was being toward him, and then he stopped going to church just to rub it in even more. Now he was going around comparing her figure to an apple, of all things.
Well, she was woman enough to handle a man like Pete Roberts. No doubt about that.
Pushing open the door to Rods-N-Ends, Patsy noted that the store was empty. She groaned. If she could have left the teacup and cookies on the counter and made a speedy getaway, that would have been easier. Now she would have no choice but to speak to the man. Especially since he was coming straight toward her.
“Hello, Pete,” she said, trying not to sound snippy. “I brought you a peace offering.”
He looked her up and down and then grinned sheepishly. “This is the teacup I left for you outside your salon. I guess you read my note.”
“As a matter of fact, I did not. I was too upset. But now that I’ve had time to calm down and consider the situation, I’ve made up my mind to do what the Bible teaches. I am here to speak plainly about the problem between us and get it over with. Now, as I recall the situation last Fourth of July, I was helping Opal Jones arrange her relish tray when you marched over, grabbed my arm, dragged me across the grass to where the men were grilling pork steaks, and pushed me down into a lawn chair that immediately broke. I was mortified and humiliated and even a little bit hurt, but thank goodness for Derek Finley, who helped me out like a gentleman should. I don’t know why you treated me like you did, Pete Roberts, but I have decided to forgive you. So I do. I forgive you. There.”
Pete stared at her for a moment. “Is that in the Bible too? The forgiving part?”
“It certainly is. It’s all over the place.”
“Huh.” He scratched his chin for a minute, his fingers disappearing into that awful beard.
Patsy finally figured she’d done her part, and she’d had about enough of his dawdling. “Well, I’m heading back to the salon for the TLC meeting. See you later.”
“Hold on, now, woman. I’m from Halfway, Missouri, and I’ve only got this thing halfway figured out. You need to give a fellow time.”
She stood at the counter, tapping her nails on the glass and studying the window display, where Pete had neatly arranged a collection of wading boots, fishing nets, rods, reels, and water skis. He wasn’t dumb, so why was this confusing? If he wanted to say something, he should just get to it and let her go to the meeting.
So far, Pete hadn’t taken a sip of tea, and the chocolate chips in the cookies were melting from the heated cup. Maybe she would just pick one up and eat it while he continued the second half of his thought process.
As she lifted the cookie, Pete reached for the cup. Their hands brushed for just a second, and Patsy jerked hers away as though she’d been shocked. And in fact, she almost felt she had been. Pete Roberts was ornery, bullheaded, somewhat hard on the eyes, and maybe even a little bit mean. So why did she feel that shiver every time she got near him? The very idea that he affected her in such a way bothered Patsy half to death.
“Good tea,” Pete said, setting the cup back in the saucer after taking a sip. “Earl Grey. My favorite, of an afternoon. I prefer Irish breakfast in the morning.”
Patsy felt a smile tickle the corners of her lips. “I guess a man can learn some things after all.”
“Yep, and here’s what I have learned today. First of all, circumstances are not always what they seem. You see, on the Fourth of July, I was trying to prevent major fireworks between the two Finley women—Kim and Miranda. I figured you, being the prettiest and kindest-hearted of all the ladies in Deepwater Cove, would be the best person to intervene. Seeing as the fuses on those two women are mighty short, I was in a hurry to get you over to where they were facing off with their bowls of dip. So I hightailed it across to where you were arranging Opal’s relish dish, fetched you, dragged you back to the grills, where it was high noon between the Finley women, and set you down in the lawn chair I had recently vacated, which had already demonstrated its cracked and frayed webbing beneath my own personal backside. At which time, that chair up and tried to swallow you—an event that took away any need for defusing the conflict between the Finleys.”