When the young woman and her mother looked up from their magazines, Patsy felt like she was staring at identical twins. But as Jessica approached, Patsy noted a major difference. Brenda Hansen’s face was solemn, her shoulders slightly slumped, and her green eyes empty—almost dead looking.
Jessica—with her long blonde hair, white teeth, dimples, and sparkling emerald eyes—reminded Patsy of a fresh spring daffodil. Where the mother might be a dormant limb fallen from a winterblasted tree, the daughter shone in full bloom.
What on earth had happened to Brenda? Patsy patted the seat of her chair and fastened a cape around Jessica’s neck. In truth, this was the Hansen family’s business, and no one else had a right to pry. Yet the changes in Brenda startled and concerned Patsy.
Could the rumors she’d been hearing be true? Were Steve and Brenda having marital problems? Had Brenda been spending too much time with the handyman who had worked on her basement? Might Steve be carrying on with a client or another real-estate agent? People had whispered damaging, almost cruel things about the Hansens, and Patsy did her best to divert the conversation to other topics. But if everyone had noticed that something was wrong at the house in Deepwater Cove, should Patsy turn a blind eye to it? Was there any way she could help or make a positive difference? Or would that be interfering?
“Follow me over to the sink and let me wash you up, sweetie,” she told Jessica. “My goodness, this hair is thicker than ever. You must be eating right. And I’d guess you’re happy, too.”
“You can tell that from my hair?” Jessica asked as they walked to the row of black sinks along a wall. “That’s weird, Patsy.”
“Looking at a person’s hair is almost like gazing into a crystal ball. If they’re not eating right or sick or stressed out or unhappy, you can tell by what their hair is doing. People lose hair or it gets thin and brittle when things aren’t going well. Sometimes it’s aging or a bad dye job. But I can usually tell a lot just by putting my fingers into a client’s hair.”
Jessica’s face reflected serenity as she leaned back in the sink while Patsy ran a stream of warm water over her long blonde tresses. “Oh, that feels good,” the younger woman sighed. “There are all kinds of salons near campus, but I told Mom I didn’t want to let anyone touch my hair but Patsy Pringle.”
“Well, you just made this gal’s day.” Patsy worked the shampoo through Jessica’s hair. “You’re so grown-up now. One of these days I’ll have been here so long, I’ll start seeing grandkids of clients I’ve worked on since they were children themselves.”
“Maybe not. Dad told me you’ve got a secret admirer,” Jessica said. “You might be having kids and grandkids of your own one of these days.”
“Lord, have mercy—if your dad is referring to Pete Roberts, you can tell him there’s not a chance in the world that’ll happen. The man takes delight in ruffling my feathers. You just wait. Any minute now he’ll start up a chain saw or a weed whacker and scare us all out of our wits.”
“Why don’t you go next door and ask him to be quiet?”
“I’ve been over there about fifty times, yelling at him till I’m blue in the face. It doesn’t do a bit of good. He’s making money by repairing those machines, and he isn’t about to take my customers into account.”
“Yelling? You?” Jessica’s green eyes opened wide as Patsy rinsed the shampoo from her hair. “You’re always so nice.”
“Not with him. He’s a mean old billy goat, and I don’t care if we do butt heads.”
“Maybe you ought to sweet-talk him instead.”
“Pete Roberts?”
“Yes, Pete Roberts!” Jessica grinned as Patsy wrapped a towel around her hair and led her back to the station. “Ask him nicely, Patsy. Remember what you always used to tell me when I would complain about how mean my big brother was to me? You’d remind me of the Bible verse where a man asked Jesus how many times a person ought to forgive someone who had done him wrong. The man asked if seven times was enough. But Jesus said to forgive him seventy times seven. And you said that was how many times I ought to forgive Justin. Now it’s your turn. Go next door, forgive Pete Roberts, and be as sweet as molasses to him.”
Patsy rolled her eyes as she worked a comb through Jessica’s wet hair. “Wouldn’t you know it? My wise advice has come back to haunt me.”
“I’m full of good ideas,” Jessica declared. “I’m actually very mature for my age.”
“You are? Says who?”
“Josh. He’s my boyfriend.”
“I thought you were dating Darrell Dugan from over in Osage Beach.”
“Oh, that was ages ago. Darrell and I broke up after we both went off to college. He’s at St. Louis University, you know, and it’s such a long drive down to Springfield. He came to see me a few times, or we met at the lake, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. After a while, we just said thanks for the memories. By then I had met Josh.”
Patsy was used to hearing such confessions from her customers, and usually she just kept her mouth shut. But with Jessica, she knew it would be okay to ask for more details. “So this new fellow…is it true love?”
Jessica flushed a pretty pink. “I think it might be. He’s wonderful. Josh is a premed major, and when he gets his MD, he wants to do inner-city medical work. What a great Christian he is, Patsy. I’m telling you, he’s really an inspiration to me. Sometimes I just listen to him, and I think…wow. I’ve never met anyone like that. He’s so deep, you know? He’s very smart, and he loves to read, and he ponders everything just like a philosopher. His dad is a pastor. Tomorrow after church I’m driving down to Table Rock Lake to meet his parents and spend the week with them. I’m really nervous, but I can’t wait.”
Patsy had begun trimming off about an inch of blonde hair, but she paused midsnip. “You’re leaving Deepwater Cove tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Jessica lowered her voice. “Mom is upset that I won’t be staying for the whole break, but I can’t help wanting to be with Josh instead of my parents. Mom thinks all us kids still consider the lake house our home—even Jennifer. You should hear what Mom had planned for Justin and me to do this week. A picnic on the boat. Grilling hot dogs. Shopping at the outlet mall—well, that wouldn’t have been so bad. But the rest of it is boring. I mean, I feel like I need to be with Josh, you know? We’re still at the place where we’re getting to know each other. And I don’t want to sit around at home with no friends and nothing to do but grill hot dogs or work on some dumb craft project or jigsaw puzzle Mom comes up with. Several of my friends are even going back to the dorm so they won’t have to spend all that time around their parents.”
“What about your brother?”
“Justin warned me not to plan to stay home the entire time, because he’s been through it before. He said Mom gets all sentimental and wants to do family things together. A bunch of his friends figured out that they had better come up with a plan or they’d be stuck with their families for a week. So the minute the last class got out yesterday, they headed for Padre Island.”
“Justin went all the way to Texas?” Patsy had to pause her scissors again. “I’ve heard the spring-break parties there can get wild. Are you sure going someplace like that was a good idea?”
“It’s a terrible idea, but that’s Justin. Mom and Dad have no inkling how their dearly beloved son behaves at college. He caused them a little trouble in high school with his drinking, but nowadays he parties all the time. I honestly don’t know how he keeps his grades up. I thought about telling on him, but I’ve decided to keep quiet. It’s Justin’s business how he spends his time, and if he blows it, Mom and Dad will find out anyway.”
Patsy glanced across the room at Brenda, who was immersed in a decorating magazine. “Your mother must be very disappointed not to have either of you home all this week.”
“She’s been a total grouch ever since I got home. She keeps holding her head like she’s got a migraine or something. I don’t know what’s going on with her. I’m
just glad I’m getting out of the house tomorrow.”
“Could your mom be sick?”
“She never gets migraines. She hasn’t said anything to me about feeling sick, and neither has Dad. He’s hardly home, but who can blame him? Mom rarely says a word to him, and when she does, he snaps back at her. If I didn’t know them better, I’d think they were having trouble in their marriage. But not my mom and dad. You know them. They’ve always been happy together. It’s strange to watch my parents these days, Patsy. It kind of scares me.”
Measuring the ends of Jessica’s hair to make sure they were even, Patsy tried to think what to say next. She was certainly no psychologist, but she did care deeply about the Hansens. “Have you talked to your mother about what’s bothering her?”
“Sure. She says she’s disappointed in Justin and me for abandoning the family. But what does she think she’s been working toward all these years? Everything in Mom’s life has been geared to shaping us into capable, independent adults. And she has. Jennifer is living in Africa and having a blast doing her missionary thing. Justin…well, he’s making his own choices and somehow getting through college too. I’ve got a full, busy life outside of Deepwater Cove. I don’t know why Mom isn’t thrilled to death. She succeeded! We grew up, and we’re turning out to be pretty awesome. But instead of being glad, she goes around grumbling and pouting. Plus, she’s acting so weird about the basement.”
“The basement?”
“At first, she didn’t want me to see it. She said she’d packed away all the pictures and trophies, and she was afraid it would upset me. Like I care? I mean, what’s the big deal about whether or not my seventh-grade volleyball-team picture is hanging on the wall? Or those three rows of all our school photos? Who cares?”
“Evidently your mother does.”
“But last summer she made a big deal about how she was excited that I was finally going off to college so she would have time to do her own things. She said she wanted to become a decorator and sell painted furniture…stuff like that. She knew this time was coming.”
“But I guess she still wasn’t ready for it,” Patsy murmured. “She misses you kids.”
“I know, but honestly, how many years can a girl take tap dancing and ballet? And who gives a rip about Justin’s football helmet? Mom had it mounted on a special shelf with framed newspaper clippings—and his only years on the football team were in junior high! Anyway, the basement looks totally wonderful. She hired some guy to paint it in different shades of green, and now she has a place to sew and do crafts and work on her potted plants. I don’t know what the big deal was, but the minute we got downstairs to look at the basement, Mom burst into tears. She started saying she was sorry, and she didn’t know what she was doing. I told her to just forget it. The whole room looks great, and now she has something to work on that’s all her own.”
“She must be struggling a lot more than people realize.”
“You can say that again. She sat down on a paint can and cried for about ten minutes straight, saying ‘Why, oh why, oh why?’ It freaked me out bad. Dad was at work, so I went upstairs and made her a cup of tea. Then she calmed down and that was that. But I’m telling you, Patsy. It was bizarre.”
They fell silent as Patsy worked the blow-dryer through Jessica’s long hair, brushing the golden locks until they gleamed. All the while, she gazed across the room at Brenda Hansen and tried to make sense of the things Jessica had told her.
A lot of issues worried Patsy these days. Pete with his chain saws and weed whackers. The adult-movie store. And the usual batch of irritants—having to sweep and tidy after every client, suddenly discovering that she was out of Earl Grey tea, cutting someone’s hair too short or not short enough. But of all the troubles that weighed on her heart, Patsy realized she had begun to worry about one more than any other….
Brenda Hansen was sitting across the room, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a wadded tissue, and looking for all the world like a woman hovering right on the verge of hopelessness.
Steve couldn’t resist taking his daughter’s hand as they strolled down to the lake after the Easter service and lunch on Sunday. Jessica had always been the baby of the family. No matter how tall she grew or what amazing things she accomplished, he could hardly see or think about his youngest child without reliving the memory of a pudgy, pink-skinned infant with a wide toothless smile and a round head topped by silky blonde wisps of hair. He knew he would do anything in the world to protect her and make her happy. Anything.
“Have you caught many fish lately, Dad?” Jessica asked as they stepped onto the long community dock that served Deepwater Cove. “I remember our crappie nights when Mom would fry up a mess of fish and make hush puppies and coleslaw, and you would play tag with us kids in the yard. That was fun.”
Steve smiled at the memory. “Believe it or not, I haven’t been down to the lake but once this year,” he said. “I miss fishing, but with just your mom and me to eat them, it’s hardly worth the trouble.”
“I always thought you enjoyed heading out into the lake in your johnboat. You said it relaxed you, and we loved crappie night. I bet Mom misses that. She says you never come home for dinner.”
“Now, that’s not right.” He scowled, wondering what else Brenda has told their daughter. “I come home when I can. Working in real estate is very different from selling auto parts at a nine-to-five store. This job demands a lot of hours and an irregular schedule. One of the reasons I’ve had so much success is the time I spend on my clients.”
“Mom says people are talking about you being voted Realtor of the Year.”
“That’s possible. Your ol’ dad has accomplished more than anyone would have thought possible for a boy with no college and a blue-collar upbringing. Did Mom tell you I keep a standing reservation at the country club?”
“No, she just said you come home very late every night.”
“That’s because I break bread with the buyers and sellers who have the greatest potential to bring a profit to my agency. It gives us a chance to talk things over. Provides them with a higher level of trust in me. And if they’re on the fence about a decision, it allows me time to use my powers of persuasion.”
“Why don’t you take Mom with you to dinner?” Jessica asked. She settled cross-legged at the end of the dock. “She would enjoy eating out, and maybe she could help you with your business.”
“Your mother wouldn’t want to eat at the country club, Jessica. She’s a homebody. You can see that by what she’s put all her time and energy into lately—the basement project. Mom likes to sew and do crafts and keep the garden tidy, not hobnob with clients. Besides, I couldn’t write off her meals. You have to think about tax deductions all the time in this business. Otherwise your overhead can run you into the ground.”
Steve hunkered down beside his daughter. Jessica’s long blonde hair lifted in the breeze and blew back from her beautiful face and slender neck. What a gift she was. Their oldest, Jennifer, had always been driven—the number-one child, eager to please, hard on herself and others for not meeting her high expectations. And, ever since she was twelve years old, determined to do missions work in a foreign country. Justin was the family clown. Goofy, not ambitious enough to please his parents, getting into a little trouble now and then, but, all in all, a lot of fun to be around.
And then there was Jessica. Daddy’s girl. As a toddler in her pink-flannel footed pajamas, she had loved climbing into Steve’s lap and snuggling up to him while he read the newspaper or watched TV. She clearly adored her father, clung to his leg when she was afraid, and called out for him at the first sign of trouble.
Steve couldn’t deny that a few years back he’d had trouble accepting her budding interest in boys—and he had wanted to knock the block off the first fellow who broke her tender heart. But he had learned to let Jessica go, little by little, into her adult world. Of the three Hansen children, Steve expected she would probably turn out the happiest and most loving.
In that way, she was like her mother. Or at least, she was like her mother used to be. Jessica had that same gentle, caring spirit that had so captivated Steve when he first met Brenda. Where had it gone? What had happened to his happy, delightful wife?
“Dad,” Jessica asked, propping her chin on her knees, “are you angry that I’m going to spend the week with Josh and his family?”
“I’d love to have you at home, honey. But, no, I’m not mad. I understand how you feel about him, and it’s important that you get to know his parents—especially if there’s going to be any future for the two of you.”
“Mom is livid. She doesn’t say much, but I can tell by looking at her face. She hardly gave me a hug when I got home, and now she won’t meet my eyes when I try to tell her something. It’s like she’s so angry that she can’t even look at me.”
“She’s not angry, sweetie. Your mother is just having a hard time adjusting to the empty nest,” Steve said. “At least, I think that’s what it is.”
“I thought she might be missing us kids, but the longer I’m around her, the less sure I feel about it. I’m confused by how she’s acting. Look what she did to the basement. If she was grieving for us, she would have kept all that junk on the walls, and she’d be calling us every day and e-mailing all the time. I mean, I’m glad she gets to do what she wants with the basement, but it feels kind of like she’s the one who has gone away. It’s almost as though she erased Jennifer, Justin, and me. The old basement wasn’t important…not really. What bothers me is Mom’s attitude. I mean, she painted the dining-room chairs and made new slipcovers for the sofas. Now the basement is green, and the TV and sectional are gone. The house hardly looks the same as when we lived there—yet she’s upset that we don’t come home more often. I can’t figure out what’s gotten into Mom.”
Steve let out a breath and studied the lake. People in Missouri loved to say that if you didn’t like the weather, stick around, because it would soon change. But this Easter Sunday had been perfect at sunrise, through lunch, and now in the early afternoon as Steve sat on the dock with his daughter. A shade of deep teal, the water sparkled and lapped at the sides of the pleasure boats and pontoons in their slips. Occasionally in the distance, a fish broke the surface, leaping in an arc of silver before gliding back down into the cool depths. Bass, crappie, paddlefish, sunfish, catfish, and several other species thrived in the many coves and inlets of the winding lake.
It Happens Every Spring Page 12