Summer Breeze

by Catherine Palmer

  As Derek spoke, Kim’s entire body had stiffened. Every muscle went hard and tense; her teeth clenched; her hands knotted into fists. How could this be happening?

  This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Derek would have told her if he’d had a gambling problem. He knew she was the child of one alcoholic and had married another. She had sworn she would never, ever marry anyone with an addiction.

  But she had. Somehow the horrible pattern had repeated itself again. Not only was Derek an addict, but he had hidden it from her. Denied and buried his dark secret for three years!

  “Sometimes I’ve told you I had to work late,” he was saying now, “but I lied. I was at GA meetings. I have to attend, Kim. It’s still hard to resist the urge. I’ve been away from the boats for years now, but I fight the battle every day. The guys at work will put together a football pool. Or someone’s wife is having a baby, and they want me to bet on the birth date. You wonder why I never spend time on the computer? why I’m so hard on the kids about it? Now you know. There’s too much opportunity to get into gambling again. Every convenience store and most restaurants have lottery machines. Scratchers. Lotto. That’s why I always go to Pete’s Rods-N-Ends. He doesn’t sell those things, so I won’t buy my gas anywhere else.”

  Kim couldn’t speak. She could hardly breathe.

  At some far distance, she could see her children tearing open birthday presents, hugging people, laughing, high-fiving each other.

  And then there was this man at her side. This gambler. This addict. This nightmare.

  “I survive by acting as though I don’t owe the money,” he continued. “You and I live off our joint income, and we make it every month. Barely. We have this nice house, food to eat, clothes for the kids, cars. But that money you think we’ve been saving isn’t going into an account. It goes to St. Louis. To my mother. It goes to pay off my debt. When my mother dies, which isn’t likely to be soon, we’ll be free. In the meantime, I’m honor bound to make amends. I have to restore what I took.”

  Kim swallowed hard, fighting tears. “You should have told me, Derek.”

  “You wouldn’t have married me. I knew that. I’m an addict, just like Joe.”

  “You’re nothing like Joe.” But even as she said the words, Kim realized she was kidding herself. In many ways, Derek was very much like her first husband—not only an addict but emotionally stunted, living in denial, hiding secrets. Even Derek’s job with the Water Patrol revealed how important control was to him. Joe had demanded ultimate authority, and eventually he became abusive. Though Derek never lifted a finger against Kim or the twins, he had chosen a job and a life in which he could exert power and influence.

  Derek had fallen silent, and Kim couldn’t make herself move. So they sat on the bench, watching the children laugh and the adults eat cake and ice cream. Brenda and Steve Hansen had presented Cody with a suitcase on wheels for his trip. The Hansens looked happy together, as attractive and cheerful as a spring bouquet. Esther and Charlie were seated side by side in deck chairs, eating ice cream and laughing about something. The summer sun radiated joy from their faces. Patsy and Pete had shut down business early just for the party. He was teasing her, making her blush and swat his shoulder. The twins sat bunched in a group with their friends, examining and admiring their gifts.

  Only two in the gathered group seemed less than elated. Lydia’s closest friend, Tiffany, had moved a little apart, as if she sensed she was older and somehow different from these happy-go-lucky kids. And then there was Cody. He held a plate with chocolate cake cut into a perfect square by Esther, but he stood at the edge of the deck and gazed at the lake. Kim wondered if his turmoil was anything like hers.

  “I’m sorry,” Derek said in a low voice. “I should have told you, Kim. I should have known it would come out one way or another. But I’ve tried so hard to keep this in the past.”

  “It’s not in the past, Derek,” Kim heard herself snap back at him. “Not if you’re going to Gamblers Anonymous meetings all the time. Not if you’re still battling addiction. Not if you lie to me on a regular basis. You’re telling me that Miranda controls our future. She holds you by a money leash, as though you’re a puppy bound to her will. That means everything I thought about us—all that I trusted and believed in when we married—has been a sham. We’re a fraud sitting here.”

  Derek rubbed his face and then stood quickly. “I’m going for a drive. If the kids ask, tell them I’ve gone to get something special for them.”

  “Another lie?” Kim shot out.

  “It’s not a lie.” He looked at her, his eyes red rimmed. “I have presents for them. I’ll be back.”

  Before she could stop him, Derek strode to the sliding door, let himself into the house, and vanished. In moments, she heard his truck starting up in the driveway.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I guess they trust him completely now. Letting him ride around on that skateboard the way they do.”

  Esther was shucking corn on the front porch with Charlie. They had purchased several bushels at the farmers’ market in town, and they planned to cut off the kernels and freeze them in plastic zipper bags. In years past, Esther had enjoyed canning the fruits and vege–tables Charlie grew in their garden. She made jellies, apple butter, and even salsa once or twice. They still had rows of filled Mason jars lining their pantry shelves, but she didn’t bother with the canning anymore. It was just as easy to freeze most of their produce, and it turned out nearly as tasty.

  “You couldn’t pay me to get on one of those things.” Charlie watched young Luke fly down the sloping roadway, his arms outstretched and his knees bent. He wore a helmet, but his big smile was clearly visible. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have tried it a few years back, though. Looks like fun. But I reckon I’ve got too many twinges in my hinges now.”

  Esther chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past you, Charlie. If that boy came up here and offered you a ride, you’d take him up on it. There’s no fool like an old fool, my daddy used to say.”

  Charlie laid the ear of corn in his lap and rocked awhile as he watched Luke enjoying his birthday present. If the truth be known, Charlie didn’t feel nearly as old as Esther made him out to be. He still took Boofer around the neighborhood on foot and in the golf cart several times a day. He worked the vegetable garden. He fooled with his tools in the garage, and he even built something useful now and then.

  More significant, he was beginning to get an itch to go somewhere. Esther never wanted to wander far from home and her favorite destinations—the beauty salon, the church, the grocery store. But Charlie had been a mail carrier, and he liked to move around a little more. He wouldn’t mind visiting the grandkids in California or taking a trip to Florida to see their daughter. But he knew if he mentioned it, Esther would turn him down right away. If the family wanted to get together, she said, let them come to the lake. Why make the old folks run all over the country?

  It frustrated Charlie a little. He felt like he had one foot in the grave and was already starting to molder.

  “I don’t know when I’ve seen a boy so excited as Luke was when Derek brought that skateboard to the party.” Esther tossed an ear of corn into the basket and brushed strands of corn silk from her lap. “And that purse he bought for Lydia! I have no doubt Miranda picked it out. Did you see the thing? Pink leather. I never would have sent it to school with a child the way Kim did. If you ask me, that was a church purse. But I guess Miranda’s influence is getting stronger by the day.”

  “Speaking of Miranda …,” Charlie said, and then his words faded as the ritual began.

  The thin blonde woman stepped onto the Finleys’ deck, which was just visible from the angle of Charlie’s rocking chair. Within moments, a gentle tinkling music—panpipes and brass bells—drifted through the air as Miranda slipped out of her long white robe.

  For the first few weeks, Charlie had resisted watching the regular evening exhibition, but he finally gave in to temptation. Miranda Finley wasn’t to
o many years younger than Esther, but land sakes, what a few stretching exercises could do for a woman! Lithe, tanned, fit as a fiddle, his neighbor began moving around on the deck—bending this way and that, rolling her head, waving her arms—all to the intoxicating aroma of some kind of incense.

  “Charlie, what are you making calf eyes at?” Esther lifted up out of her chair and leaned over in his direction. “Oh, for pete’s sake! Is Miranda Finley doing her nightly belly dance? Let me see. Scoot over.”

  They watched the theatrics for several minutes. Charlie thought this was one of Miranda’s better nights. She managed to bend over backward so far she could almost touch the deck with the tips of her fingers. But Esther kept clucking and shaking her head as if the entire performance disgusted her.

  “I don’t know why Kim and Derek put up with that nonsense,” she said as the music tapered off. “You wouldn’t want me out dancing on the porch in my bathing suit every night, would you?”

  Charlie could think of several responses to that—none of which would be well received. So he picked up an ear of corn and started pulling off the husks.

  “Well?” Esther demanded. “Would you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind you belly dancing in our bedroom now and then,” he said. He waggled his eyebrows at her. “If you catch my drift.”

  “Oh, Charlie!” Esther giggled. “You are such a nut.”

  Rocking and shucking, Charlie thought he might be a nut, but he sure wasn’t dead. As far as Esther was concerned, he might as well be among the dearly departed for all the attention she paid him—at least in that particular room of their house. Still, she’d been a good wife all these years, and he couldn’t complain. At least not out loud.

  “Here comes Ashley!” Esther said, elbowing her husband as a small car pulled into their driveway. “She’s bringing me some of her handmade beads. I’m going to order necklaces for everyone I know. How about that? All the Christmas presents taken care of in one fell swoop.”

  “Yahoo,” Charlie said.

  Ashley Hanes stepped out of her car and gave her long red hair a toss. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Moore,” she called. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” Charlie said, watching Miranda Finley pull her robe back on and leave the deck. “Not much at all.”

  “I brought my whole collection of beads for you to look at.” Without being asked, Ashley settled into the third chair on the porch. She pushed a stack of corn husks off the table onto the floor. Then she set out several plastic trays with countless tiny compartments, each bearing a different type of bead.

  This was Charlie’s signal to head for cover, but Esther was having none of that. She caught his arm just as he tried to rise. “You sit right there, Charles Moore, and help me choose these beads.”

  Obedient as ever, Charlie slumped back into his rocker. Truth to tell, sometimes he felt like retirement wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe if a fellow could get out and about once in a while. Or kick it up with the little woman. But here he and Esther sat, shucking corn, waiting to croak.

  “I like these swirls,” Esther commented. “What do you think, Charlie? Can you picture these beads on May?”

  He could barely remember his wife’s niece, let alone know which beads she ought to wear. He mumbled, “Sure,” and turned to their visitor. “Say, Ashley,” he drawled as Esther resumed hunting through the plastic containers. “How’s Brad coming along with his building project?”

  The young woman looked up, flushed a bright pink, and dipped her head again. “He hasn’t done anything on it for a while.”

  “It’ll make a nice garage for that new truck of his.”

  Esther lifted her head and frowned. “Or whatever they decide to use it for,” she said, tipping her head and flashing her eyes toward Ashley, apparently to remind Charlie about the young couple’s dispute over the purpose of the room.

  “I guess Brad got a building permit downtown and cleared his plans with the Deepwater Cove Association,” Charlie speculated. “He’d know all about that sort of thing—him working for a contractor.”

  “I guess so,” Ashley said. “How do you like these orange ones, Mrs. Moore?”

  “Not for Christmas gifts, dear. Orange is a little much; don’t you think?”

  Esther had laid a line of beads across the table, and Ashley was jotting who would get which necklace in a little notebook. The women discussed names, ages, hair color, and other such foolishness for females Charlie hadn’t thought about in years. Clearly this was great fun for Esther, but he felt a strong urge to go inside and turn on the TV.

  “Anyway, we might not finish that room,” Ashley said suddenly. “At least not right away.”

  The idea of an unfinished construction project in the neighborhood didn’t sit well with Charlie—especially when the house next door was for sale. “Brad running out of time?”

  “Money,” Ashley informed him. “Do you like these green stripes, Mrs. Moore? I think they go really well with the purple glass beads. Maybe with some small gold ones as separators.”

  Charlie studied the green, purple, and gold combo and thought it was the craziest mishmash of colors he’d ever seen. But lo and behold, Esther starting cooing like a lovebird. Said she might even want a strand for herself.

  Charlie thought he’d move the conversation back a ways. “Money’s always tight when you’re just starting out,” he commented. “Maybe you and Brad could take out a second mortgage. We did that one time when the kids were little. Wasn’t easy making two house payments, but we managed.”

  Ashley’s pretty eyes settled on him for a moment. “I’m thinking about getting another job. I could work during the day and keep my position at the country club too. I never wanted to live like my parents—with the ice cream store always on the verge of shutting down. But if these beads don’t start selling better, I’ll have to look around for more work.”

  Charlie appreciated the young woman’s frankness, and he understood about financial worries. Still, it would help if Brad Hanes didn’t park himself at the bar every night. And what had he been thinking when he bought that big truck? Not to mention having a mortgage and starting to add on to the house. Kids these days didn’t seem to have the ability to think ahead very far.

  “Pick out a nice set of beads for me, Ashley,” Charlie requested. “Let’s make it three strands and dip one of them down kind of long.”

  Esther gave a little squawk. “Oh, Charlie, are you getting me an early Christmas present, you silly goose? Don’t you know better than to order a gift right in front of me?”

  “Indeed I do,” he intoned. “You have taught me well, woman. This necklace isn’t for you. I thought I’d have Ashley create something that Cody can give his aunt for Christmas. That way, in case he forgets to buy her something, he’ll be covered.”

  At the mention of Cody’s name, all three people on the porch fell silent. Esther messed around with the beads while Ashley wrote in her notebook. Charlie thought about the young man who had helped clean their house throughout the summer. Cody hadn’t been gone long, but already the spiderwebs were starting to build up and get messy along the eaves, and the windows could use a washing.

  But doing chores wasn’t the main reason Charlie missed Cody. There was something special about the boy. The way he always smiled and greeted people with a wave of the hand. The way he would suddenly start spouting Bible verses or discussing his favorite subjects—chocolate cake and hot dogs. Deepwater Cove didn’t seem the same without the familiar sight of a slender, carefree figure strolling along the roads from one house to another.

  “I miss Cody,” Ashley spoke up finally. “It’s hard to believe he just up and left us.”

  “He wanted to go see his aunt,” Esther said. “That’s under- standable.”

  “Did you get a letter, Mrs. Moore?”

  “Yes, but he gave the same information to all of us. Must’ve just written one letter and then copied it over and over again for each person in the neighborhood
.”

  Charlie grunted. “He ought to have told us what he thought about his new life. The whole letter was nothing but an account of the bus ride and then a long description of his aunt’s house. Moldings around the window frames and brass doorknobs. Who cares about that? I want to know if he likes the woman and if he’s happy there.”

  “He assumes we know that,” Esther said, patting her husband’s knee. “Marylou Goss is his aunt. She wanted to reunite what’s left of her family. Of course he likes her. You know Cody. He likes everyone.”

  “Well, that’s true—unfortunately for us. If he could live out in the woods and eat bugs, he can survive anywhere. So I guess we might as well start getting used to it.”

  At the thought of never seeing Cody’s curly hair and bright blue eyes again, Charlie had an awful feeling he might choke up. So he pushed himself out of his rocker and headed for the house. “Corn husks, beads, and belly dancers,” he muttered. “I’ve had about all the fun I can stand. See you two ladies later.”

  Inside, he settled into his recliner and pressed the Power button on the TV remote control. Through an open window, he could hear his wife giving Ashley all the details of Miranda Finley’s most recent exhibition. Thank goodness the game shows were on. Charlie raised the volume just a tad higher than usual; then he leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes.

  Working the day shift gave Derek the opportunity to share the evening meal with his family that week. He had made a valiant effort to enjoy the time with his loved ones, but Kim’s long silences had erected a definite barrier between them. After his confession on the deck during the twins’ birthday party, he had returned to the house bearing birthday gifts he had picked out earlier for them. Despite the kids’ joy over the purse and the skateboard, Kim wouldn’t even look at her husband.