Summer Breeze

by Catherine Palmer

For a moment, the men stared at the plates in stunned silence. “Where are the fajita wraps?” Derek asked. “I always enjoyed those.”

  “And what about that Greek salad wrap my wife liked so much?” Steve asked.

  “Discontinued,” Bitty said as the men began picking up the plates and biting into the strange-looking food. “Discontinued along with the eggplant wraps, the onion-and-feta-cheese wraps, the baked-lamb-and-hummus wraps, the avocado-and-shrimp wraps. In fact, all the wraps are discontinued. So are the omelets. And so is Bitty Sondheim’s Pop-In.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Patsy said. “You’re not leaving us, are you, Bitty? You’ve hardly given us a fair shot. One summer isn’t nearly enough time to let us get used to your California cooking.”

  “It’s long enough for me.” She looked from man to man.“My out-of-town visitors liked my food pretty well, but I’ve heard your comments. I’ve seen the faces you locals make when you read my menu. I know how you feel about my California wraps. So here!” She spread out her hands to indicate the array of food she had brought. “Here’s your Missouri-hearty-homemade-just-like-Grandma’s-deep-fried-heart-attack junk. You kept telling me you wanted chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, so here it is. Take all you want. It’s on the house.”

  At that, Bitty burst into tears, turned on her heel, and headed for her van.

  Dismayed, Patsy set off after her. “Now, Bitty,” she called, regretting her high platform black sandals with every step. “Bitty, please wait. Don’t leave us like this, honeybunch!”

  “I’m going back to California where I belong. Missouri is just too weird for me.”

  “Missouri is weird?” Patsy caught up to Bitty, who was pushing boxes and baskets into the back of her van. “We’re not weird, sweetie; we’re just home folks. We’ve been doing the same old things for years. We eat what we’ve always eaten, and we pretty much wear what we’ve always worn. Change doesn’t come easy to us, but it’s not impossible. Please don’t run off, Bitty. Give us another chance. I was really beginning to like that humus.”

  “Humus is dirt enriched with cow manure!” Bitty wailed, turning on Patsy. Her voice rose as she spoke until she was practically screeching. “I was serving hummus! Hummus is a creamy puree of chickpeas and sesame seed paste seasoned with lemon juice and garlic! Everyone eats it in Greece and the Middle East! Hummus is served with bread for dipping or as a pita filling!”

  “Well, all right,” Patsy said, holding up both hands to try to calm Bitty. The last thing she needed was to make another big show. “Simmer down, now. I’m sorry; I didn’t know the difference, Bitty. I’m sort of ignorant about these kinds of things. Most folks around here are—but that doesn’t mean we can’t be educated. If you’d put on your menu that you were serving chickpea paste, well … well—”

  “You see? No one wants to eat my kind of food. You know who my best customer was? Miranda Finley—and that’s because she’s from St. Louis. She knows about international cuisine. She knows about healthy eating. She understands what I was trying to do. I thought I could come to the lake and set up a little restaurant and just live out the rest of my life right here where the cost of living is low and the pace is slow. But all my dreams are ruined. I’m ruined, Patsy! I put everything I had into the Pop-In!”

  “Oh, Bitty, come here and let me give you a hug.” As Patsy wrapped her arms around the woman, she suddenly realized that most of the men who’d been tending their grills were headed toward Bitty’s van like soldiers on a mission. She swished her hand at them to try to ward them off, but they wouldn’t be deterred.

  “Bitty, we want to talk to you,” Steve Hansen said. “These men have just voted me chairman of the Pop-In Revitalization Board.”

  Snuffling, Bitty lifted her head from Patsy’s shoulder. “I already turned in my final rent check, Steve. I’m sorry to let you down, but I just couldn’t make a go of it. You’ll have to find a new tenant for the space.”

  “I’m going to have to prevent that,” Derek Finley said, stepping forward and leading Bitty back toward the table, where a crowd had gathered to sample her new wraps. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to shut down the Pop-In, Bitty. We don’t dare risk the riot that might cause.”

  “What?” she asked, her voice tremulous. “What do you mean?”

  Now Brad Hanes spoke as he held up what was left inside his parchment paper. “We want you to stay open and keep making these Missouri-deep-fried-heart-attack wraps. They’re delicious. I mean that. I could eat one for lunch and actually get full. I’m gonna have to go swimming just to work off the one I ate, so I can be ready when the pork steaks are done.”

  “But they’re so … awful,” Bitty said.

  “Awful good,” Brad declared. “If you’ll keep the Pop-In open, Bitty, I’ll tell the other guys I work with, and we’ll be there every day. I ate the chicken-fried steak wrap, but I’m a big catfish man. Charlie told me his was fantastic.”

  “Don’t ever let on to Esther,” Charlie Moore said, leaning in close, “but that catfish wrap has her batter-fried crappie beat by a mile.”

  “Are you serious?” Bitty asked.

  “Serious as a hearty-homemade-deep-fried heart attack!” Brad said with a laugh.

  Everyone was still chuckling when Charlie suddenly elbowed Patsy. “Hey, who’s that? Over yonder near the edge of the parking lot?”

  Patsy’s heart lurched as she searched the thick brush at the edge of the clearing. Emerging from the shadows came a tall, broad-shouldered man bearing a large box. For an instant, she thought by some miracle it might be Cody. But this was someone new. A good-looking stranger who must have noticed the gathering and decided to check it out.

  “I had to park halfway to Tranquility,” the man called as he sauntered toward Bitty’s van. “’Course, that’s pretty much to be expected, seeing as I’m from Halfway, Missouri.”

  At that, Patsy gasped so loudly that everyone turned to stare at her. “Pete?” she whispered. “Is that Pete Roberts?”

  It was. But it couldn’t be. Where was the shaggy sheepdog? the old grizzly bear? the lumbering goof in overalls and a plaid flannel shirt?

  “Hey, Patsy.” He smiled, and suddenly she realized she was definitely looking at Pete Roberts’s teeth. But had she ever seen those lips? that chin? the squared jawline?

  “Aren’t you going to speak to me?” He paused, grinning. “I brought my homemade pecan pie—a recipe of which I am most particularly proud. I hope I haven’t missed the pork steaks.”

  “You missed Bitty’s new Missouri wraps,” Luke Finley said. “They’re good.”

  “No problem, Pete,” Brad assured him. “You can drop by the Pop-In anytime you want. Hey, did you lose weight or something?”

  “He shaved,” Patsy said, breathing out the words with a deep sigh. “Pete shaved. You shaved off your beard.”

  “And got myself a haircut. I should have let you do it, Patsy, but I wanted to surprise you. I closed up early to show off my new do. So, what do you think?”

  When she couldn’t answer, he handed the box containing his pie to Derek Finley, took Patsy by the arm and planted a kiss right on her lips. “How’s them apples, sugar?” he asked.

  Patsy nearly fell right off her platform sandals. All around her, the men began to cheer. The Finley twins chanted, “Pete and Patsy sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes marriage—”

  “Hold it right there!” Patsy said, snapping out of her trance. “If you all will excuse me, I’ve got to go and sit down.”

  As she stepped away, trying to stay balanced on her sandals, Patsy could hear the crowd laughing and murmuring behind her. Well, she’d managed to be the focus of yet another spectacle—and once again Pete Roberts had caused it. Only this time, Patsy wasn’t angry. Far from it. In fact, she was so flustered, so dizzied, so downright discombobulated that she didn’t know if she could make it back to the plastic chaise.

  Just when she feared she might have to slump down in
to the grass and take off her shoes, Pete slipped his arm under hers. “Are you mad at me again?” he asked, leaning way too close for comfort.

  Patsy couldn’t believe it, but he smelled like heaven itself. He’d splashed on some kind of aftershave that had hints of lemon and spice, and his breath was sweet, and it was all she could do to keep from turning him around and giving him a smooch to end all smooches.

  “Patsy?” he said. “Please don’t get upset. I thought you’d be glad I shaved after all this time. Especially right before winter. That’s when I usually let the ol’ beard grow as bushy as it can. But you kept telling me I ought to shave and get a haircut, so I finally listened. In fact, I did it for you. I’d given you a few teacups, and I couldn’t think of another thing that might please you. I really did want to make you happy.”

  Patsy paused and turned to look into his amazing blue eyes. “You did, Pete,” she said. “I’m happy, but … but I’m kind of scared, too.”

  “Scared? Of what? It’s just me.”

  “But you look so different. You’re … well, you’re handsome.”

  He burst out laughing. “Handsome! First time anyone ever said that about Pete Roberts. But if that’s how you feel, you’ll never see another whisker on my face as long as I live.”

  Patsy practically tumbled onto the plastic chaise, and Pete sat down beside her on the grass. She stretched out her legs, closed her eyes, and tried to make herself think straight. Pete could not be that handsome. It simply wasn’t possible. How many beards had she shaved off men in her lifetime? At least a dozen, and what was underneath never looked as good as that. And how many men had she seen with brand-new haircuts? Thousands? But they were never as handsome as Pete Roberts.

  “You’ll like my pecan pie,” he said, taking her hand. “I shelled the nuts myself, and I made the crust, too. It was my grandma’s recipe. You wouldn’t think a fellow like me could bake up a pecan pie, but if there was a fair anywhere near here, I bet I’d win first prize.”

  You sure would, Patsy thought. But not for your pecan pie. She opened her eyes a little and peeked over at him. No doubt about it. Pete was handsome. Oh, he wasn’t rippling with muscles or sporting a deep golden tan. He didn’t have gleaming white teeth and dimples. But that craggy face could just about stop a woman’s heart.

  “Before the men get back here, Patsy,” he spoke up, “I want to tell you something. It’s about fishing.”

  “Oh, Kim already told me,” she said. “Charlie thought up the idea when he was trying to get Esther to go out to Aunt Mamie’s. It worked so well that Charlie told Derek, and now all the Finleys are fishing left and right.”

  “They are?”

  Patsy hesitated. “By fishing, do you mean that special way of talking to someone so you get what you want from them? Like Derek winning back Kim’s admiration, and Kim winning Miranda’s acceptance? And Lydia winning Luke’s permission to be his diabetes buddy at school, even in front of all his friends?”

  Pete scratched at what had once been his beard. Seeing as now it was just his chin, he didn’t do it long. “I’m not talking about that kind of fishing,” he said. “Though Derek Finley and I did discuss another kind of fishing after church last Sunday. You remember how the ladies were all bunched up talking about Jessica Hansen’s wedding?”

  “Yes. Jennifer is going to be the maid of honor, and they plan to wear apricot and carry calla lilies. I’m doing the whole bridal party’s hair and nails. We’ve already scheduled it in my appointment book.”

  “Okay, well, while you were discussing all that stuff, some of us men lingered around our cars waiting for you to finish up. That’s when I asked Steve Hansen about this ‘fishing for men’ business. He explained it to me pretty well, and then Derek Finley went to asking questions. And before long, Steve had up and decided to start a men’s Bible study at Rods-N-Ends at six o’clock every Wednesday morning.”

  Patsy sat up straight. “A men’s Bible study? Are you going to it?”

  “Of course. It’s at my store, remember? And that brings me to what I wanted to tell you. Even though I don’t completely understand about being ‘born again’—or exactly why anyone would want to fish for men—I’m giving it a shot. Derek said he’d come to the Bible study too. We’re both kind of ignorant, but we like what we see in church. Even better, we like the people we know who call themselves Christians. So, Patsy, I may not be all I should be—or could be—but I hope you know I’m trying.”

  “Oh, Pete!” Unable to bear it another moment, Patsy threw her arms around the man’s neck and hugged him tightly while tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m so happy I don’t know what to say! I can’t believe you really listened to me. And cared about what I think. And shaved off that beard. And decided to go to Bible study. And—”

  “Whoa, hang on a minute!” Pete’s arms tightened around Patsy. “Slow up, girl. We’ve got us a potential problem here. It looks like trouble—but I think Derek’s got it covered.”

  Patsy lifted her head and tried to see through the mist of tears that covered her eyes. “What is it, Pete?”

  “There’s something out in the lake. Looks too big to be a carp or a catfish. I don’t think it’s a paddlefish either. Why is it that every time we have a barbecue we wind up with a hitch in our giddyup?”

  Still folded in Pete’s arms, Patsy turned around and wiped at her eyes. She could see a dark shape a little way from the shoreline. It seemed to be drifting along at a slow pace—maybe it was a log or even a large turtle. Derek had picked up a heavy stick and was walking toward the water. Parents called their children out of the swim area, and everyone gathered in clumps with their arms around each other.

  Just when Patsy had decided the object was some kind of debris, it rose straight out of the water. The whole crowd cried out and stumbled backward. The thing was standing now, wading to the shore.

  “Is it a deer?” Patsy asked.

  “Too hairy and tall. It might be a bear. It’s too big for a raccoon. What is that thing?”

  At that moment, the thing lifted a hand and began waving. “Hi, I’m Cody!”

  “Cody!” Patsy scrambled out of the chaise so fast that Pete found himself holding air. Kicking off her sandals, she ran for the water. “It’s Cody! Cody, you came back!”

  “Hey, Patsy Pringle! Hey, Pete! Hey, Brenda Hansen! Hey, Steve! Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Moore!” Dripping, Cody Goss staggered onto the beach. His hair and beard had grown scraggly, and his T-shirt was covered with grease stains. “Hey, Mrs. Finley and Officer Finley! Hey, the other Mrs. Finley! Hey, Ashley and Brad! Hey, Opal!”

  Patsy rushed right up to Cody and threw her arms around his skinny, wet shoulders. A moment later, nearly every person in Deepwater Cove was making a valiant effort to hug Cody. Brenda Hansen began sobbing. Ashley Hanes started tossing necklaces over his head. Kim Finley wrapped him in beach towels as her twins danced around him. Esther and Charlie were so happy they broke into a spontaneous waltz of joy. Even Brad Hanes began to applaud Cody’s arrival in the neighborhood.

  “You came back to us!” Patsy said as the young man made his way onto the grass. “Oh, Cody, we’ve missed you so much!”

  “I missed you, too.” He sank onto a blanket someone had spread out, and everyone gathered around him. “I missed everyone, and let me tell you something. Deepwater Cove is not an easy place to find.”

  “But why did you decide to leave Kansas?” Miranda Finley asked. “We thought you would be happy with your aunt.”

  “I think my aunt is a very nice lady,” Cody said. “She told me she liked me, and she was sorry my daddy had died. Aunt Marylou stays at her flower store pretty much all the time. She makes bouquets for weddings and funerals and birthdays and holidays and church altars and hotel lobbies.”

  “She’s a florist!” Esther said.

  “Yes, and she has a big television in her house, and she told me to watch it all the time while she was gone. When she came home, we would eat together. My aunt is a vege
tablearian. We ate beans and peas and lettuce and carrots. But we never ate meat. Or eggs. Or nothing interesting but nuts. We ate lots of nuts—peanuts, walnuts, macadamias, you name it.”

  “Yuck!” Luke Finley announced. “That’s worse than my diabetic food.”

  “You’re right,” Cody said. “Yuck. Besides that, my aunt and I didn’t have too much to talk about, because she was always at her shop working on flower bouquets. She said she didn’t have time to teach me reading or social skills, and she didn’t want me to clean anything in her house or mow her yard. Aunt Marylou always said, ‘I’m glad you came for a visit. How long do you plan to stay?’ I told her I was glad to have a family and a home. Anyway, one day I decided I had watched enough television to last me for a long while, because in case you didn’t know, the things they do on television are not good. So I wrote my aunt a letter to say good-bye and thank you for the vegetables and come see me in Deepwater Cove sometime, because that is my real home and my real family. And then I bought a bus ticket back to St. Louis.”

  “St. Louis!” Patsy exclaimed, imagining the innocent young man stranded in the middle of such a large city. “But that’s miles from here.”

  “I know. I could not find any of your houses or even Just As I Am or Rods-N-Ends. I lived in the woods for a while, just like my daddy and I used to do. But living in the woods makes you stink. And that’s why … well, after I found Deepwater Cove a few minutes ago, I tried to get into the lake and wash off.… But Brenda will tell you I am not a fish. So, that’s how come I stink.”

  “I don’t think you stink.” The voice belonged to Jennifer Hansen, who stepped between Patsy and Pete. She was carrying a plate, and she offered it to Cody as she settled down cross-legged beside him.

  “Three hot dogs!” he practically shouted. “And chocolate cake!”

  “Cut into squares, not triangles,” Jennifer said. “Because squares are better.”

  Cody stared at her for a moment as if he truly could not believe his eyes. Then he picked up a hot dog. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he announced. “And here’s another thing I want to say. I love you, Jennifer Hansen.”