Marriage Seasons 03 - Falling for You Again (30 page)

Pete was trying to think of a good response, but first he had to rearrange himself. He stretched out his legs, rolled over on one hip, and propped his head on his hand. That wasn’t much better, but at least the blood started flowing again.

“Did you have a happy childhood, Pete?” Patsy asked.

“It was all right. I don’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth. I recall I got into trouble a lot. I didn’t do too great in school either. I guess my childhood was about average, and so was I.”

“Sounds right for a kid from Halfway, Missouri.”

He laughed. “
Halfway
.
Average
. I guess I’m not real impressive. About as good-looking as a tree stump. Not real smart. I don’t have much to brag about, do I?”

“You can repair any engine that comes into your store,” Patsy said. “You built the planter boxes outside our shops in Tranquility. You kept them weeded and filled with pretty flowers this spring and summer. Besides that, I hear your house is as neat as a pin, you can cook like a chef, and your yard is as green and tidy as a golf course.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“You told me.”

Pete shook his head and chuckled. “I probably did.”

She pushed her hair off her shoulders, looked up at the sky, and let out a deep sigh. “I could sit out here all night. The memory of Esther’s smile when she saw her old prom dress will stay with me for the rest of my life. I’ll never forget the sound of those songs on Brad’s CD player as we marched around Deepwater Cove. And Cody’s excitement over the weenie roast—that was a sight to see, wasn’t it?”

At the vision of the woman looking so beautiful and serene, Pete couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “Patsy, listen. I really do want you and me to take a walk. How about it?”

“No, Pete. I’m not going to stroll off into the darkness with you. I won’t have anyone starting rumors about us.”

Pete knew there were already rumors aplenty, but this wasn’t the time to remind Patsy of that. He had a more important mission. Not only did he need to get up off the cold ground, but he had something important to say to Patsy. It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had been sweating it for several days. But now, on this crisp autumn night when she was in such a happy mood, he was going to have to spit it out. Or else he never would.

He didn’t have the patience to try to convince her to go for a walk, so he would just have to tell her right in the midst of their neighbors. Someone might overhear him, but he would risk it. Sitting up cross-legged again, Pete raked his fingers back through his hair. Then he scratched his chin a little, missing his beard but knowing it was gone for good. Finally, he flopped down on his back, rested his head on his hands, shut his eyes, and spoke the words.

“Patsy, I’ve got something to say to you. Something personal. Okay?”

She didn’t say a word. Pete opened one eye. He could see her blonde curls highlighted in the golden embers of the bonfire. He opened the other eye.

“Is that all right?” he asked.

“I guess so,” she breathed out. “But I’m not sure you should say anything. You know what happened the last time we tried to have a deep discussion.”

“Well, tough beans. This is something that has to be said, and I need you to hear it.”

“All right. Go ahead.”

Pete studied the moon for a moment. Then he let it all out. “I’m going to get baptized two weeks from Sunday, and I don’t want you to think it’s because I love you, even though I do. It’s because I went to Pastor Andrew, and we talked out the entire situation. First I told him about fishers of men and heaven’s pond, and he said yes, my ideas were pretty much right. Then he explained what the word
surrender
means—which is something I was never any good at, being as bullheaded as I am. But I’ve known for years that I never was successful at running my own life, so why keep trying and failing? Right there in Pastor Andrew’s office, I was about to surrender when I remembered my dark blot. Actually, all my many dark blots. That’s when he told me about repenting—which is saying sorry and turning away from doing wrong. Until that moment, I had never believed apologizing was going to be good enough—not for God, anyhow. You were telling me about your happy childhood around the woodstove?”

“Yes,” Patsy said. Her voice sounded small in the darkness.

“One thing I do remember about being a kid is that saying sorry was never good enough. If I did something I shouldn’t, I could apologize until the cows came home, but I was going to get a whipping anyhow. After a while, I gave up on repenting because it never was any use. But Pastor Andrew said God accepts our apology as long as we really mean it. I assured him I did mean it, but I couldn’t guarantee to be perfect for the rest of my life. Pastor Andrew told me that was okay. The main thing is to believe, repent, surrender, and submit to God’s leading through the Holy Spirit.”

“Did he tell you how to know what God is leading you to do?” Patsy asked. “I have a lot of trouble with that.”

“You do?” It had never occurred to Pete that Patsy might have problems in any area of religion. She seemed to understand it all and be so good at living the way the Bible said people should live.

“I can’t always tell who’s pushing on me,” she continued. “Sometimes I think it’s God, but sometimes I think it might just be my own desires urging me to do what I want. And once in a while, I’m pretty sure it’s Satan—all gussied up in a wrapping of what looks like truth—trying to mislead me with a bunch of his lies. It’s hard, Pete. It’s very hard to know.”

For the first time in his life, Pete felt confident he could help a person with something other than repairing an engine or choosing the right bait.

“If you’re not sure about something,” he informed her, “you put it to the test. Pastor Andrew gave me the rules. You ask yourself questions. Does this thing go against any teaching in the Bible? Do my Christian friends approve? What does God say to me about it when I pray? And how does my conscience feel with it? If you get the green light on all that, then you can be confident God is guiding you.”

Patsy sat in silence for so long that Pete wondered if he might have said something wrong. It was entirely possible. In his mind, he had gone over and over his conversation with Pastor Andrew. Pete felt sure he had believed, repented, and surrendered and that he was ready to let the Holy Spirit guide him. He had confessed that he didn’t know all there was to know about matters of faith, but Pastor Andrew had assured him that no one did. Finally, he and the minister had agreed that Pete was born again, a full-fledged Christian, swimming in heaven’s pond, and ready to be baptized.

But maybe Pete had said something wrong. Patsy sure did look upset. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to be wiping at her eyes. His legs weren’t numb from lack of blood, but half of his body felt nearly frozen on the icy ground. If he had goofed by telling Patsy about the conversation with Pastor Andrew, then he would have to make it up to her later. He sure couldn’t stay out here in the cold much longer.

“Patsy?” He reached for her hand. “Patsy, you okay?”

“Yes.” She tucked her legs up under her chin, put her arms around her knees, and buried her face.

When she spoke again, Pete couldn’t make out anything but a mumble. A mumble or a sob. He wasn’t sure which. Neither was good. No doubt he had offended her in some way. He was chilled to the bone, and now he felt foolish trying to explain how he had gotten born again in Pastor Andrew’s study.

He never should have said a word. In a couple of Sundays, he could have just shown up at church to get baptized and surprised the socks off Patsy. That would have been a lot better than fumbling around and telling her about the whippings he had gotten as a boy and all that.

“Okay.” Patsy lifted her head. “Okay, Pete, I love you, too.”

“What?”

“I said I love you, Pete. And not because of your talk with Pastor Andrew. Well, that might be part of why I love you. I love that you care about your soul. That you want to change. That you’ve tried to understand. I do love that, and I’m glad you’re going to be baptized. But mostly I love you because it’s all right. I see now that God has been trying to tell me it’s okay to feel the way I do.”

Pete couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had actually frozen to the ground like a discarded Popsicle or if it was because of what Patsy was telling him.

“You see, I wasn’t sure until tonight,” she said. “I couldn’t tell where all these feelings and emotions were coming from. I didn’t know whether my love for you was part of God’s plan or if it was my own selfish desire. I even wondered if it might be Satan’s way of tempting me into doing something wrong. But when you explained how to know God’s will—by searching the Bible, talking to friends, praying, and examining my conscience—I realized that loving you is all right. It’s all right, and I can say it, Pete. I love you. I do. I love you so much.”

For a man whose full six feet four inches of height was mostly numb, iced over, and cramped, Pete had a sudden burst of energy as white-hot as a flash of lightning on a summer night. He bolted up from the ground, caught Patsy in his arms, and kissed her dead center on the lips. She laughed and buried her head in his shoulder.

Then she kissed his neck so softly he thought he would melt. He threaded his fingers through her hair, enjoying the touch of her soft curls.

And that’s when Opal Jones poked Pete in the calf with the toe of her shoe.

“Now then, you two!” she said, much louder than Pete thought necessary. “I don’t have my hearing aids in, but I’ve got my glasses on. I was married for fifty-eight years, and I know better than to carry on like that out in public. If you all want to go to spooning, you’d better find a chaperone and a porch with a great big light by the front door. And don’t wait too long to get married, because it’s neither right nor fair to either one of you. You hear?”

Pete nodded, suddenly feeling like that little boy who’d been caught in a misdeed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Well now, how about if you give me a ride back to my house, kid?” Opal stared at Pete through her glasses. “I’ve stayed out here too long, and I won’t be able to get back in the dark. And you, Patsy Pringle, you go on home like a good girl.”

With his heart overflowing, Pete gave Patsy a last peck on the cheek, took Opal’s arm, and headed for his pickup.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Y
ou and Ashley sure looked happy at the celebration last night,” Charlie remarked to Brad.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s off and on with us,” the younger man said. “The bonfire was my kind of fun, even though they didn’t allow beer. At least we got to enjoy the commons. Not like the Fourth of July, when we can’t even shoot off fireworks. I didn’t even mind the parade. I rode a float in every parade at Camdenton High School all four years until I graduated. Athletics, you know. I could have been on the Honor Society float, but I didn’t want to hang with a bunch of nerds.”

Following church, Esther had wanted to rest up from her queenly activities the evening before. She had encouraged Charlie to go over to the Haneses’ house and help Brad with the new room. In a way, this construction work was a ministry to the young couple, Esther pointed out, and that made it a perfectly appropriate activity for the Lord’s Day.

Charlie had to admit, Esther made a good point. He had come to see himself as something of a father figure to Brad. He dispensed tidbits of advice here and there. Slapped the kid on the back now and then. And whenever Charlie offered a word of praise, Brad drank it in like a thirsty man in a desert. Most afternoons they talked and joked around. They both kept up with the NFL, and it turned out they were rooting for the same teams. If it wasn’t football, they discussed the weather, fishing, plans for the room, or some other topic of interest to both of them.

Charlie had come to admire Brad’s willingness to work long hours at such hard labor. Brad was respectful, too. When they disagreed, the younger man often capitulated, even though he probably knew more about construction than Charlie.

During the past week, the two men had begun painting the addition. Now Brad was giving the white ceiling a few touch-ups while Charlie started cutting in with a soft yellow semigloss that Ashley had chosen. The couple still hadn’t decided the purpose for the space, but Brad felt it would add to the sale price of their home if—as he regularly predicted—the marriage went down the tubes.

“I thought I spotted you and Ashley snuggled up under a blanket while you roasted marshmallows,” Charlie observed. “Looked mighty cozy to me.”

“Yeah, we had a good time. She had taken the night off from waitressing at the country club, and for once she wasn’t nagging me about Larry’s.”

“Have you gone back to the bar since her ultimatum?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Brad slapped the paintbrush on the ceiling so hard that droplets spattered across his face like bright white freckles. “She can’t expect me to sit around the house by myself watching TV every single night. That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe you could take up a hobby.”

“What—collecting model trains or postage stamps?”

“As a matter of fact, I collected stamps for years.” Charlie mused on the hours he had spent gazing through a magnifying glass at the bright colors and detailed pictures of butterflies, flowers, portraits, and other objects indigenous to the countries where his stamps had originated.

“I wonder what I did with my collection,” he murmured. “I hope it didn’t wind up in the attic with Esther’s prom dress. Brenda Hansen had to work a miracle to patch that thing back together. If my stamps are up there, no telling what condition they’re in.”

“You liked stamps because you were a mailman,” Brad said. “I couldn’t care less about that kind of stuff. The only things I enjoy are football, baseball, and building houses. Unless you go to college, there’s no football or baseball after high school. And the softball teams are all tied to churches. You aren’t getting me anywhere near a church—ball games or not. And as for building, that’s what I do all day long. So I guess you could say my hobby is hanging out at Larry’s, shooting pool, having a few beers, listening to the music, and talking to my friends.”