Summer Breeze

by Catherine Palmer

  Unwilling to send Luke to the sports and recreational camps the twins usually attended in the summer, Kim had asked permission to take a leave of absence from her work as a hygienist for a dentist in Camdenton. Dr. Groene was sympathetic and kind, and he’d hired temporary help for the short term. But Kim’s paychecks had stopped, and the family was finding it hard to make ends meet.

  A voice broke into her thoughts. “Where’s Lydia?” Luke pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. “I thought I heard her out here. Tiffany just called.”

  “She’s riding her bike,” Kim told her son. She signaled for Luke to join her by patting the wicker love seat. “How are you doing, honey? Are you shaky or nauseous like this morning?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” He plopped down in the chair where his sister had sat moments before. “I wish I felt like riding my bike.”

  “Well, why don’t you? Do you feel dizzy or anything like that? Do you have a headache?” She reached toward him. “Let me see if you’re sweaty.”

  “Mom, stop. I’m okay.” Luke pulled his knees to his chin and wrapped his arms around them. “You’re treating me like a baby! I checked my blood. Nothing’s wrong with me. Leave me alone.”

  “Then get your helmet and go catch up to your sister. I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.”

  “No.” Glaring over his knees, he frowned out at the world. “I don’t feel like doing anything. And I’m not wearing that stupid helmet anymore.”

  Kim sighed. Growing up in a home in which her parents’ constant fighting had led to divorce, she had learned to cope with the unexpected. Her alcoholic mother had moved the children from town to town as drinking cost her one job after another. Kim had been determined never to repeat her parents’ mistakes. The summer after graduating from high school, she’d gone to work for Dr. Groene as a receptionist and moved into a small apartment. Soon her next-door neighbor had charmed his way into her heart, and she happily married the handsome marine-engine repairman.

  It wasn’t long before Kim realized she had done exactly what she’d hoped to avoid. Every now and then—seemingly out of the blue—Joe became loud and mean. She was just past her first trimester with the twins the first time he slapped her. After that, her life became a nightmare.

  Terrified to leave her husband and terrified to stay with him, she walked on eggshells and prayed that she could safely deliver her babies. Soon after they were born, Kim had started attending the Lake Area Ministry Bible Chapel. At LAMB Chapel, as it was called, she found strength and courage she had never known in her life. With the help and support of several women in the church, especially Patsy Pringle, she had managed to escape her husband and take refuge at an abuse crisis center. After divorcing Joe and winning custody of the twins, she settled into what she hoped could be a normal life.

  And then she’d met Derek Finley. Even as she thought of the wonderful man who had stepped into her life and swept her off her feet three years before, Kim saw his truck rolling along the lake road toward their home in Deepwater Cove.

  “Hey, here comes Derek!” Luke shouted. “I wonder if he brought me any cherry strings.”

  “You can’t have—” Kim bit off the rest of the words. If Luke wanted to eat a snack now and then, he would simply have to monitor his blood sugar and keep everything in balance. He had learned to do that already. She needed to start trusting him. But a ten-year-old boy? It was so hard not to worry.

  “Look, he’s got Lydia’s bike in the back!” Luke jumped off his chair and raced across the porch and down the steps. “I bet she fell off! I bet she wasn’t wearing her helmet!”

  “Oh no!” Kim ran toward the approaching truck. “Derek? Is Lydia all right?”

  “Of course I am.” Lydia opened the door on the passenger side and slid out onto the driveway. “Derek saw me riding near the highway to Tranquility, and he picked me up. Hey, Luke, want some trail mix? It’s cheese flavored.”

  Before Kim could react, Luke had stuck his hand into the bag. She was trying to say something about it being almost suppertime and not good for his glucose level when Derek swept her up in his arms and planted a warm kiss on her lips. She resisted for a moment—fears, worries, and frustration still at the forefront of her mind—and then she smelled his sun-heated skin. Melting into her husband, she wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her hand down the soft hair at the back of his head.

  “Surprise,” he said, kissing her cheek and then the side of her neck. “I hope you made enough supper for one extra. The captain saw I was getting bleary-eyed and sent me home for a couple of hours to eat and put my feet up.”

  “Bleary-eyed?” Kim murmured. “Not you. And surely not in Party Cove.”

  He laughed and swatted her playfully as he followed her to the porch. They both knew that in his ten years on patrol, Derek had become jaded by the skimpily clad twentysomethings who cavorted from boat to boat in the notorious cove.

  With more than a little pride, Kim opened the front door to a home filled with the aroma of homemade spaghetti sauce and toasted garlic bread. As it was a Saturday, she had been able to start the morning by tackling the laundry that piled up through the week and scrubbing the master bathroom.

  In the midst of tensions converging like a line of thunderstorms capable of producing tornadoes, Kim always tried to keep the house peaceful and clean. She knew she was sometimes discouraged or grumpy, but she hoped her husband and children understood how much she cared by the things she did for them.

  “The doctor says Luke is doing very well at monitoring his glucose levels,” she told Derek as they stepped into the kitchen. That morning, Kim had fed the twins an early lunch before driving her son to his pediatrician’s office. Afterward, she’d had time to finish the laundry and vacuum the living room.

  “I knew the boy could conquer this thing,” Derek said. “He’s tough as nails, that kid. How’s Lydia been today?”

  “The same.” Kim lifted the lid on the spaghetti sauce and gave it a stir. “She wants to wear shorts to church tomorrow.”

  “Why not? She’s a pretty little gal, just like her mom. Both of you look cute in shorts. Besides, it’s summer.”

  “Don’t you dare side with her, Derek,” Kim warned. “She’s already pushing every limit we’ve set. She called Joe this afternoon when we weren’t home. She won’t wear her bike helmet. And now she’s determined to wear shorts to church just because Tiffany’s mother is letting Tiffany wear them.”

  “Does God have something against shorts?”

  Kim pursed her lips to keep from saying something she might regret. The only thing that had caused her to doubt the wisdom of marrying Derek Finley was his disinterest in church. She had read about the importance of sharing a religious faith with your spouse, but she hadn’t realized how much it would mean to her until they were already married. Then she saw that Derek slept in on his work-free Sunday mornings, and he never made anything but indifferent comments when Kim tried to talk to him about her beliefs. He certainly didn’t try to lead the family in prayer or direct their thoughts toward heaven. Still, in every other way, he had proven himself just about perfect.

  “Oh, baby, that is the best-smelling sauce in the world.” Derek sighed as he leaned over to savor the scent. “You are the queen of cooks, and I mean that. My mom could make some pretty decent spaghetti, but you have her beat hands down.”

  Kim smiled as she set an extra place at the table. Derek’s mother was exactly opposite to hers. Kim’s mom had barely been able to afford the clothes she needed to wear to apply for work, while Derek had been brought up in a lovely home in Clayton, near St. Louis. Before he was killed in an automobile accident, Derek’s father had worked as an award-winning freelance photographer for various wildlife and exploration magazines. His mother always dressed in linen and pearls. She belonged to a country club and several volunteer organizations. And she never failed to point out the small flaws in her son’s chosen life partner.

  “I got my spaghe
tti recipe from that chef I told you about,” Kim said as Derek washed his hands in the kitchen sink. She had asked him a hundred times to wash up in the bathroom. He never noticed the coat of grime he left on her white porcelain sink.

  “The guy your mother worked for when you lived in Joplin?” he asked, shedding droplets across the countertop as he reached for the towel. “He taught you a lot. I owe that fellow. If we ever get down south, we’ll stop by the restaurant so I can shake his hand and thank him for turning my wife into the best cook ever.”

  “You would have liked him. His name was Marcel, and he was from France. But he could make just about anything, including spaghetti.”

  “He let you hang around in his kitchen?”

  “Well, not at the restaurant. My mom got fired only a couple of weeks after we moved to Joplin. But she and Marcel had already struck up a thing for each other, so we moved in with him for a while. I can’t remember how long that one lasted. Anyway, he used to cook for us after work, and I would watch him.”

  Derek came up behind Kim and slipped his strong arms around her waist as she checked the pasta. “I don’t know how a woman like you could have emerged from that kind of past,” he murmured. “But I sure am glad I found you.”

  Kim turned her head and kissed his cheek. “God brought us together,” she told him. “And I have no idea how He feels about shorts in church.”

  “Go easy on Lydia, Kim. I bet if Luke starts acting more like himself, Lydia will follow.”

  Kim stepped out of her husband’s embrace and took down bowls for the sauce and pasta. She generally respected the way Derek handled the kids, but when they disagreed, it was all she could do to keep from reminding him that they were her children, and he ought to just back off. This time, as usual, he was right.

  “I’m probably being too hard on both of them,” Kim admitted.

  “I talked it over with Patsy last week, and she thought maybe Lydia’s rebellion is her way of responding to all the changes we’ve had to make because of Luke. It made sense. I know I’m overprotecting him and making both of the kids as afraid as I am.”

  “Really, Lydia’s doing pretty well, considering.” Derek sat down at the table as Kim called the twins to dinner. “The shorts, the helmet, even calling Joe … none of those things is all that bad. Not like the stuff I see going on with girls just a few years older than Lydia. She’s a great kid.”

  “What do you mean calling Joe is not that bad? You know what kind of a man he is. I can’t believe you think Lydia’s behavior today is okay.”

  “Calm down, honey. Joe only contacts the kids because it makes you crazy. There’s no way he’s getting anywhere near them. Don’t get so upset.”

  “You’d be upset too if you really understood what that man put us through. You may be used to dealing with out-of-control drunks, but I’m not! The kids and I were his victims long enough, and the thought of him being in contact with them still scares me.”

  “You’re a strong woman, Kim.”

  “Maybe so, but Joe is stronger.” She shook her head in frustration. “You know what he’s like, Derek, but you’re never willing to discuss it with me. You won’t do anything about it, either. You just keep telling me it’s going to be okay. Sometimes I wonder if you even hear what I’m saying. Where’s your concern for me? Where’s the protection you ought to be offering the children? Joe is out there, and he scares me to death.”

  “But he can’t hurt any of you, Kim. The law protects you, I’ll protect you, and you can stand up for yourself. At some point you need to trust yourself—and the kids.”

  “They’re only children, Derek. They’re ten years old.” Kim glared at him as she took the chair across the table. “Things have changed. I realize the twins are almost eleven, and I’ve left them alone in the past. Summers have been filled with camps and clubs and some free time at home. But with Joe making trouble and with Luke’s problems, I can’t imagine doing that now.”

  “Listen, I had an idea—”

  “Hey, Derek, did you find out who drowned the other day?” Luke skipped into the kitchen, followed closely by his sister. “Did some drunk fall out of a boat again? Or was it a murder? That would be cool!”

  “He’s not going to say anything about it,” Lydia admonished her brother. “I already asked him.”

  “Your sister’s right—I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” Derek told Luke, reaching over to rumple his hair. “You know that, buddy. Besides, who wants to hear that kind of thing at the table? Look at this awesome dinner your mom made.”

  “I hate spaghetti,” Lydia announced. “I’m not eating it. She leaves chunks of tomatoes floating around so you can see them. It’s disgusting.”

  “Lydia,” Kim began.

  “Are we going to pray?” Luke cut in. “I’m so hungry I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  “Hunger and nausea. That’s a blood sugar imbalance!” Kim started to leap up from the table, but Derek caught her arm.

  Luke scowled. “Mom, just feed me, okay? I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “Just feed him,” Lydia insisted, her face going pale. “Feed him, Mom!” Suddenly bursting into tears, she grabbed her brother’s plate and ladled spaghetti sauce onto it. “Eat, Lukey,” she said, pressing a spoonful toward his mouth. “Eat! Eat this right now.”

  “Stop it, you idiot!” Luke knocked the spoon out of his sister’s hand, splattering the kitchen floor and wall with red sauce. “I’m not gonna die! Everybody quit freaking out! I hate the way you guys treat me all the time. You make me feel like I’m dying, and I’m not!”

  “Whoa there.” Derek laid his hand firmly on Luke’s shoulder. “Nobody thinks you’re dying. You’re not dying, kiddo; you’re living. You’re doing great with everything, and your mom and I are so proud of you we could just about bust. So, let’s all settle down and have some dinner. Kim, how about if I pray?”

  It was the first time in their marriage that Derek had even mentioned prayer, let alone offered to ask a blessing. Kim was so astonished she couldn’t speak.

  Keeping one hand on Luke’s shoulder and the other on his wife’s arm, Derek bowed his head. “We’re all a little off-balance here,” he began, “and we need to settle down and realize that someone bigger than us is in control. Please help Luke get to feeling comfortable managing his diabetes, and help Lydia to accept the change in her brother without getting too upset. And be with Kim, who trusts in You to look out for her family. Amen.”

  Everyone lifted their heads at the same time. Kim swallowed in grateful amazement that for the first time, her husband had acknowledged the existence of a heavenly power. Maybe Derek hadn’t used God’s name or mentioned Christ, but at least he had offered up a prayer. It was a beginning—a huge beginning.

  A smile softening her heart, Kim lifted the bowl of pasta and passed it to her husband. “Thank you, honey,” she said. “That was exactly what we needed.”

  Derek grinned as he dished out a plateful of noodles. “And here’s something else that’ll help us all feel better—an answer to my prayer right off the bat. I was about to mention this earlier, but I got interrupted. Kim, you’re going to be able to go back to work on Monday, and the twins will be safe and sound right here at home.” He looked around the table. “My mother called this afternoon. Kids, your grandma Finley’s on her way down here from St. Louis for a nice long visit!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Well, howdy-doody,” Pete said, waggling his eyebrows as Patsy settled onto the weather-beaten gray bench beside him on the dock. “I’ve never seen you without all your gear.”

  “What gear?” She stretched out her legs and drank down a breath of cool air off the lake. “Pete, if you start talking about how I change my hair color all the time or the fact that I enjoy wearing makeup or how many pairs of high heels I own, I’ll go home and take a nap.”

  “All right; I won’t say a word.” He leaned over and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “But I sure do like th
e look of those bare toes.”

  It was the first time Pete had come close to even touching Patsy, let alone kissing her, and she just about fell off the bench into the lake. Instead, she grabbed the iron post that supported the dock’s roof. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself.

  Under normal circumstances, Sunday afternoon called for a nap. But lately the order of Patsy’s Sundays had altered, and she liked the change. Nowadays, she met Pete Roberts in the sanctuary. They sat together on her favorite pew near the front of the chapel, where the music and preaching could keep her awake. After that, she and the owner of Rods-N-Ends dined at Aunt Mamie’s Good Food in Camdenton. You couldn’t find a better place for fried chicken, roast beef, hot homemade dinner rolls, and mashed potatoes with creamy brown gravy.

  Today Pete had persuaded Patsy to accompany him to Deepwater Cove’s community dock for a little postlunch fishing. It was the worst time of day for the crappie to bite, but Patsy figured the dock might be a good place to accidentally on purpose run into the Finleys. The twins loved to swim, and Patsy often spotted the family at the lakeshore in the afternoon.

  Unwilling to admit that Pete’s kiss had startled her, Patsy dipped her toes into the water. “Any sign of the Finleys?” she asked, looking around. “I’d like to ask Kim how things are going with Luke.”

  Aware of Pete’s shoulder next to hers, Patsy kept her focus trained on the lake. For umpteen years, she had shampooed, trimmed, dyed, curled, and styled people’s hair. She knew the feel of long hair, short hair, fine hair, coarse hair, limp hair, and overpermed, overbleached, over-blow-dried hair. But Patsy couldn’t remember the last time she had felt the brush of a man’s mustache and beard against her cheek.