Each instruction she’d given Rick via typing at her computer, had been followed to the letter. Right down to Ben being assigned to stay near Julie. She could sign, greet folks, carry on simple conversations, with Ben as her voice. He took to the job with the seriousness of a soldier charged with a critical task.
She even heard snippets of occasional praise for her efforts. “She must have had everything in order.” And, “What a feat to pull this off after that terrible accident.”
Rick was the perfect host. For once, Rachel was a dream. She greeted folks at the door and directed them to the kitchen for refreshments.
To Julie’s surprise, her mother didn’t mingle, but actually stayed put and managed the kitchen. Stocking and re-stocking snacks, drinks, and punch, cutting the cake as needed. Considering what she wore to the ceremony, Julie was glad her mother had changed before guests arrived. Although the camouflage half shirt, matching BDU capris, and four and a half inch heels she now wore were still a little much.
And most thankfully, Trudey hadn’t offered her phone number to any of the men in attendance. At least, Julie was fairly certain she hadn’t.
About an hour into the party, Pastor Pierce Crane and his wife, Laurie, arrived. He walked in first, carrying their chunky, blue-eyed baby daughter like the proud father he was. Laurie followed, diaper bag in hand, and sat at the kitchen table with Julie while Pierce made the rounds showing off their daughter. With Laurie’s dirty-blonde bangs and prominent freckles, she might have passed for a student.
“Julie, everything looks wonderful. We wanted to be here earlier, but Hope changed her schedule on me. I guess with having three children, you know how that goes.”
Julie nodded.
“Did I ever do that, Mom?” Ben asked. “Did I change your schedule?”
She nodded again. Had he ever. Adjusting to having a healthy newborn was one thing, but a baby with a cleft palate, sleep apnea, and constant ear infections—that was a different animal.
Laurie looked around. “No telling where Pierce is. Guess that gives me a few baby-free minutes. How did you do it? With three? Some days I barely get my teeth brushed before lunch, and she’s only six months old.” She waved her hands. “Never mind. I know you can’t talk, I don’t know why I’m sitting here asking questions like this. Maybe we can e-mail each other.”
Julie answered with a knocking motion.
“Yes!” Ben translated. “She said ‘yes.’”
Julie placed a finger to her lips. Shhh.
“Sorry,” Ben said.
Julie patted his arm then signed a message for Laurie.
Ben’s brow furrowed in concentration. “The cast and wires come off in about ten days. She doesn’t know when her voice will return. Email’s good.”
Laurie clapped. “Well done, sir. Well done.” She rose. “I better find Pierce. He’ll let Hope catnap on his shoulder, then I’ll be up all night with her. You know he’s going to honor the graduates in tomorrow morning’s service, right?”
Julie nodded again. Laurie hugged her and walked away.
Ben snuggled close, wrapping a thin arm around her shoulders. He rubbed his cheek against hers and planted a sticky kiss there. He’d eaten way too much cake. “I love you, Mom. Hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
Julie shook her head. Never she signed with her working hand. Never.
Someone knocked on the back kitchen door. Julie signed to Ben, Go answer.
He scampered off, leaving her alone, then lumbered back, pulling a strikingly lovely woman by the hand. Shimmering dark hair flowed over a model’s body, stopped just below a tapered waist in tailored jeans. An expensive, obviously pheromone-infused scent permeated the air and seemed to hang beside Julie’s chair.
That scent. The new, female client she’d smelled remnants of on her husband all evening.
As if the meeting had been planned, Rick and Rachel materialized in the kitchen doorway, stopping directly in front of Ben and the visitor.
“Don’t think I’ve seen that one at church since I’ve been here.” Her mother spoke, the standard you’ll-never-be-that-beautiful expression on her face. Julie had received the same look from her PE Coach during the first week of middle school.
Sixth grade. Julie remembered being in the girl’s locker room. Stripping down naked in front of other girls. Those huge concrete block shower rooms, which held several evenly-placed shower poles sticking up from the tile floor. Bathing beside five or six other girls at a time. Julie had been the only sixth grader who’d already started having periods. And wouldn’t you know, she had been menstruating that week, of course.
She knew she smelled. Hated knowing that after she ran the track with the others at the end of class she’d smelled even worse. Hormones, yes, but also her weight. She’d come out of the shower room, and discovered her clothes inside out and spread on the benches in front of the lockers, the armpits and breast areas plastered with super-size maxi pads. She’d turned to see the teacher standing there with that exact, sympathetic expression.
“Julie, bring your clothes and come on to my office, honey,” Mrs. Bixby had said.
Julie held the towel tightly to her chunky self. She followed Mrs. Bixby past a snickering herd of pretty and popular older girls. Mrs. Bixby led her into the office, shut the door, and closed the blinds.
Mrs. Bixby looked at her with that pitying look. “Julie, do you know who did this?”
Julie wrung the edges of the towel still in her hands. The perpetrator could have been anyone, but was probably several anyones. “No, ma’am.”
“I will get to the bottom of this.”
She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze, holding the towel ends together with one hand, reaching for her clothes with the other. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You can use my private restroom in the corner to change.”
“Thank you.”
“... Angelina, this is my daughter, Rachel.” Rick’s voice drew Julie’s attention back to the present. “She’ll run her own stables one day.”
With seemingly natural poise Angelina extended her hand to Rachel. “Nice to meet you. Are you as good with horses as your dad?”
Rachel glowed, as she always did when anyone mentioned her daddy. She crossed her arms, cut her eyes at Rick and smiled at Angelina. “No one’s as good as my dad.”
Angelina looked at Julie’s husband. In that split second, as those model-perfect eyes swept over Rick’s open-at-the-throat dress shirt, Julie saw desire and longing in the woman’s beautiful face.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Angelina said.
Julie was almost certain she heard traces of that desire and longing, too.
There was no way for Julie to clear her throat, then barge in. She couldn’t gracefully walk up and smile, introduce herself. She’d removed the black sling when they arrived home, because it was chafing her neck. Now the yellowing cast which she’d let Ben color on and color over, hung pathetically at her side.
Slowly she stood. Half-hoping Rick would remember her, half-hoping he wouldn’t.
Ben took Angelina’s hand again. “And here’s my mom.” He pulled Beauty behind him.
Julie swallowed. Angelina offered her hand.
“It’s lovely to meet you. So glad you’re recovering from your accident.” Angelina glanced at Rick, Rachel, Ben, and finally back to Julie.
Nice meeting you, too, Julie made herself answer through Ben. Welcome to Matthews Stables.
Maybe, like most of the other owners, Angelina wouldn’t be around that much. Or at least, Julie hoped that would be the case.
***
The Barn Church stood on a huge corner lot with its hundred-year-old, gray-brown exterior; its huge and heavy double doors, wavy-glassed windows, and slowly expanding cemetery on the side facing the woods.
Oh, she’d missed it.
Julie stepped down from the truck to the large, grassy parking lot. She’d missed this place; missed Sunday mornings. She really, really missed
singing here. But today, at least she was alive and she could have two of the three. The bonus? Her mother had slept in after last night’s party, opting out of going to church with them. For the rest of the morning, Julie would be safe from her mother’s caustic remarks.
Rick held the door open for her to enter the remodeled, yet rustic interior. As usual, an instrumental rendition of an old hymn flowed through the vaulted space. A soothing, string version of “The Old Rugged Cross.” Her heart hummed along, embracing it as an old friend, then beat frantically as if she were about to perform. Why was she so nervous? Of course, because she knew what was coming at the end of the service, and she wanted it to be perfect for her son.
Clusters of church folks dotted the sanctuary; laughter came from some, others blotted tears. As her family of five made their way to their seats, she offered waves and received greetings. And realized she’d missed the people as much as she had the place.
“Julie. It’s great to finally see you back here.” Laurie plopped down on the pew in front of Julie, a wriggling, ruffle-covered Hope in her arms. “This child is going to make me old. She cannot be still, unless she’s asleep. She’s either going ninety-to-nothin’ or conked out like the dead. Her naptimes are getting shorter and shorter. I don’t know what I’ll do when she starts walking.”
Julie remembered those days.
Would you trade them?
The thought came like the softest whisper, so still, so quiet she almost missed it.
For the life you thought you wanted, would you trade them?
“I’ll take her.” Rick wrangled the gurgling child from Laurie. “She’s got nothing on an unbroken mustang.”
“You can take her to the nursery. She doesn’t exactly respect church services yet. If her daddy’s talking, she thinks she’s supposed to talk back.” Laurie looked back at Julie. “Julie, what am I in for?”
Some of the best days of your life, Julie thought, then realized she meant it.
She patted Ben’s arm, who sat beside her. Placed her cast-covered hand in her right palm. Help me. She continued signing and Ben cleared his throat.
“Mom says, ‘Does she like taking a bath?’”
Laurie nodded. “She does.”
“That can be your quiet time, too, Mom says. Stay with her, but read, make phone calls, relax. Don’t try to work when she naps. You rest, too.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Listen, did Rick get your new computer set up yet?”
Julie nodded.
“Do you have Skype?”
Julie nodded again.
“Great. Send me a friend request. Lauriehashope1. Get it? Want me to write it down?”
“I can help her remember,” Ben said.
“We can instant message. We can even connect from our iPhones. It’ll be just like talking, better than the e-mail idea. Lately, I get around adults and my mouth will not stop. I think I’m starved for real conversation.”
Julie signed and Ben interpreted. “Mom says she can do it tomorrow.”
“Great.” Laurie stood. “See you later.” She left, taking a seat closer to the front.
Ben leaned against Julie’s shoulder. “Whew. Listening to her made me tired. And church hasn’t even started.”
Rick returned, baby-less. He draped his arm around Julie, planted a soft kiss on her cheek, and whispered in her ear. “All five of us together at church. Sean leaves Tuesday. It’s our last Sunday like this.”
Julie inhaled deeply, struck by the realization. She had two more days of living in the same house with her oldest son. Two days to see him, hug him, tell him how much she loved him, how much he meant to her.
And no voice with which to tell him.
She gulped at the threat of tears. Her son knew, didn’t he? That her love for him had always been so big, she’d often thought her heart might burst with it. Surely, he knew.
The service began with the opening choir number “Jesus Paid It All.” If Julie had been able to sing, she probably would’ve been asked to do two or three of the verses, solo. But this time, for the first time in years, she was standing in the congregation. And worse, she was mute.
Fighting frustration, she concentrated on the tune, and meditating on the lyrics as the congregation sang along.
I hear the Savior say,
Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.
Millie and Clyde Newman were behind her, singing. Millie, just-this-side-of-flat; Clyde, jack-hammering the notes as if pushing out his last breaths. Julie thought he’d surely winded himself by the end of the first verse, and would drop out at the chorus.
She was wrong.
She heard as much as felt Clyde take a deep breath. Behind her, against the back of her legs, the pew vibrated as Clyde’s fist pounded out every other beat, every other word.
Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.
Stanza after stanza she choked back tears as the congregation sang all six verses. By the time the song was over, she would have given almost anything to have her voice back, to join right in with Millie and Clyde’s off-key efforts.
After the song, Pastor Pierce stepped to the podium. “You may be seated,” he said. “We have some special folks to honor. Many of you were at the graduation ceremony yesterday evening. We have several graduates here this morning. I’d like to recognize them and their families, then have special prayer for each one.”
Down the pew from Julie, Sean stood when called. He made his way to the front, where Pierce shook his hand and gave him a quick guy hug.
“We’re proud of you, Sean.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“From what I hear, you’ll be using ‘sir’ a lot over the next few years. When are you leaving for Basic Training?”
Sean stood straighter. “Tuesday, sir.”
The pastor turned to Julie and Rick. “Big change for you, big change for your parents. Before we pray for Sean, does anyone have a bit of advice for a young man entering today’s military?”
Behind Julie, Clyde Newman stood. Everyone knew he’d served in the Marines in Vietnam. From his stiff, white, crew cut to his starched posture, Clyde oozed ex-military.
“I’ve got a scripture for him.” Clyde barked, as if in command. ‘And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life.’ You’ll get the meaning of that one real quick, from your drill sergeant. No matter what you do, he’ll burn you up at least once or twice a day, if not every hour. Don’t pay no mind, don’t take the cut-downs and slime slinging to heart. Just follow orders, and keep a good attitude. You’ll get through it fine.
“You’ll be on your own, so it’ll be up to you to remember. Jesus paid it all, son. Even when you mess up, His forgiveness is right there waiting to give you a new start.”
While the congregation prayed for Sean, Julie swallowed past the lump in her throat. Oh, God, keep him safe. Wherever you send him, keep him safe.
After the service ended, she watched as her son received more good wishes and encouragement. When the well-wishes were over, Rick helped her into the truck. His warm hand steadied her as she boosted up. He made sure she was tucked far enough inside, then caressed her arm before closing her door. He hopped into the driver’s seat, inserted the key. Turning to her he winked while revving the engine like a teenager showing off for his first love. He reached over, slid his hand behind her hair, and massaged her neck.
“You look tired. Been a big couple of days. You should relax on the way home.”
She sagged against the headrest as they left the parking lot, gazed out the window, while Clyde’s grating voice and his shared scripture lingered in her mind. The tongue is a fire ... had she been burned?
In her experience—her long, seemingly never-endi
ng experience with Trudey—the tongue had been a shotgun. A device for scattering damaging, careless comments, which her mother fired at will. Probably like what Clyde called a drill sergeant’s slime slinging.
As a child, still as an adult, Julie lived in the crosshairs.
Wounds, she thought. They’d always been a part of her life.
She repositioned her cast on her lap, raised her good hand to her cheek, pressed and felt the outlines of the annoying metal bands binding her jaw.
Tiny wounds, gaping wounds. Always there. Always an irritation from her mother. A source of constant discomfort, because even a mild thump gets to a person after a while, when that thump hits the same spot over, and over, and over.
Clyde had encouraged Sean, “Don’t pay no mind,” when referring to cut-downs and name-calling most people envisioned taking place during Basic Training.
Had she ever stood up for herself? Not talked back in a disrespectful way, which would only have brought more trouble, but ... inside. Had she ever questioned, ever weighed the truth of her mother’s words about her? To her?
As far as singing went, yes. Julie hadn’t made it to New York, hadn’t been able to take advantage of the scholarship. She had, however, ignored her mother’s nay-saying and continued pursuing her dream. Doing so had taken much longer than she’d anticipated. Still she’d be well on her way, right now, if not for the accident.
But—she thought, as they pulled into the garage, as Rick removed his hand, as her stomach sank—what if her mother was right about her marriage? What if everything her mother said about Rick picking her because he’d been too young to pick anyone else, hurt her so badly because it was the truth.
Julie looked over at Rick. Her handsome, cowboy husband.
“What?” He shut off the engine as the children scuttled from the backseat.
She shook her head, scanning his features, trying to read his expression.
She’d wondered, hadn’t she? Deep down? All these years, she’d wondered if her mother’s notion was correct. If the reason Rick had picked her, married her, was because they’d wed at such a young age, before he really had a chance to meet anyone else or explore other options.
Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series) Page 11