Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series)

by Aaron D. Gansky

  Although she was thankful to have a healthy baby boy, the initial feeling of separation, the knowledge that he was no longer a part of her, had caused a grief that took her breath. And a tiny part of her heart mourned, as her imagination fast-forwarded to this season of their lives.

  Now, she looked at her son. Her boy. Her baby, who was going into the military.

  Dear God, protect him. Please protect him.

  Tears pooling in her eyes, Julie nodded at Rick, then slid the letter to her son.

  Sean glanced at the envelope, then at his dad. “You want me to open it now?” For a moment those male gazes locked with a look Julie had noticed passing between them several times before. But now wasn’t the time to ask its meaning.

  “Yes,” Rick answered for them both. “Your mother typed it this afternoon. There are things she wants to say, that she obviously can’t right now.” He cleared his throat. “She wrote it, but it’s from both of us.”

  Rick’s calloused hand slid up her back, around her shoulder, and squeezed. “Go ahead, son. We both love you.”

  That look happened between them again. For a second, Sean cocked his head, as if trying to figure out something. He shrugged and opened the envelope.

  Why did it hurt to watch him read the note? Why was she so uncomfortable?

  Julie hadn’t tested her voice in days, right now would be a great time to get it back. She needed to explain. She wanted to explain. To make sure Sean realized her love for him. How proud she was of him. And more. All the things her mother had never given her that she was only now beginning to grasp were crucial for every child.

  Rick had that bond, that security with his parents. So did his sister. And wasn’t that why Julie had loved going to their home when she was growing up? The love and acceptance she felt there had fed her hungry heart and soul.

  She reached for her glass with its straw, and sipped. She set it aside slowly, took a quiet, slow breath, and pushed with her abdominals, hoping for any sound.

  Nothing.

  Sean switched to page two, where she’d bared her heart. Page one was heartfelt, but in a generic way. The second page, more specific. More personal.

  I’ve always known you had strong protector/provider instincts. That you’ve chosen a profession in the military makes perfect sense. Your quiet nature—much like your father’s—will be a tremendous asset in Basic Training.

  I’m sure that same quality is part of what drew Lisa to you. If she’s who you choose to be our future daughter-in-law, we will love her with our whole hearts.

  Julie had labored over each sentence, each word, as she’d done years ago when writing her songs to God. How odd both endeavors provoked the same trepidation.

  “Thanks.” Sean looked at her with the patient, hazel eyes he’d inherited from Rick. “Thanks, Mom. This means a lot.”

  She couldn’t read his expression. What was he thinking?

  Her emotions were a mess, she knew. Between the accident, her mother staying with them, the changes in her and Rick’s relationship, Sean’s graduation, her first service back at church—heavens, was that only this morning?—life had been upside down for weeks.

  But something was there, behind his eyes. A shadow?

  The little boy he’d once been was looking at her. The ever-excited, dependably consistent child, who’d held her hand wherever they went and trusted her implicitly. That face peeked at her from a hiding place, then slipped behind a door.

  The child was gone.

  Panic bucked in her chest. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

  I love you, she signed.

  “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”

  She grabbed his hand with her good one, then turned hers over atop his and signed again. I love you.

  Sean rose and walked around the table to her. She stood, and he hugged her, the stubble on his neck pricking her forehead.

  “It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay.”

  She held on with her one working arm, listening to his heartbeat.

  Rick wrapped his arms around them both. “Your mom means it, Sean. We’ll always love you. You always have a home with us.”

  “I got it, Dad. Thanks.”

  Julie craned her neck. Pressing her lips to Sean’s cheek, she kissed her son good-bye.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Rachel Matthews, Mrs. Tate’s third period English class:

  Tuesday, June 3:

  Arriving at school fifty minutes early means I’m sitting in the library with the weird kids and nerds. And I don’t know why I’m writing this. No matter how many words I type and turn in now, it won’t be enough to avoid attending summer school.

  My dad knows. But my mother doesn’t. He’s waiting to tell her. Between Mom losing her voice and my brother leaving this morning, Dad thinks my having to attend summer school will be more than she can handle.

  Whether the cause is me attending summer school or some other little thing it’s only a matter of time before the “old” Mom comes back. I know it will happen as soon as her voice returns. Only now, Sean won’t be there to share the line of fire. From now on, it’ll be just me. Ben has always been exempt.

  We took Sean to the airport this morning, all the drama from his graduation and flying away to his military future is over. Tomorrow is the last day of regular school. Thursday and Friday I’ll be moving the manure pile with the tractor, a chore that can’t wait until next week because I won’t be home. Summer classes start Monday, with Britney-the-blonde-bimbo (sorry again, Mrs. Tate).

  Here’s what I want to know: Where is my safe place?

  It used to be school, in pre-Britney days. Home should be, but as soon as Mom gets her voice back I know the bombing will begin.

  If I could, I’d spend every hour in the barn with the horses and my dad. Horses are so much nicer than people. They’re grateful for everything you do for them. They don’t twist your words. And they never, ever accuse, blame, or embarrass you.

  My mother can do all three at once. It’s like a talent she has, like her singing voice. Or maybe it’s the flipside of her singing voice. I’m not supposed to think God would ever play jokes like that on people, but it would make sense, in a do-you-want-fries-with-that kind of way. You can have a beautiful voice, but it only comes with a side of something else. You might bless others, but you’ll also hurt your family.

  ***

  As soon as they returned home from the airport, Julie got out of the truck, leaving her husband and mother behind. Writing the letter to Sean and giving it to him was one thing, sending him to Oklahoma was another. But the thought of actually giving her mother the letter she’d written, a letter that waited in her nightstand, weakened her knees and turned her stomach.

  She hurried into the house, through the laundry room and kitchen, into the family room where her glossy, black piano waited by the window. She stopped short then walked to the Baby Grand. Running her working hand over the lid, she trailed her fingers over the shiny surface. She hadn’t played a note since the morning of the accident.

  The padded stool drew her, offering a familiar place of comfort and communion. She sat, lifted the key lid and slid aside the red, felt key cover. With her right hand she played a sliding scale from middle C up one octave, then down again. Pushing middle C again and again, she closed her eyes, listening to the tone, reveling in its constancy. Middle C always sounded the same.

  Mother’s heels clicked into the room. “I wondered if you ever play that thing anymore.”

  Julie’s eyes popped open, her hand freezing above the keys. For one delicious, pain-free moment, she’d forgotten her mother was near. Forgotten about the letter.

  “I heard that run thing you did just now. Is that all you know after years of lessons with Rick’s mom? If I were Rick, I’d be mad.” She cocked her head. “You should sell that piano. It takes up too much room in here, and you could put the money toward your medical bills. I’m sure Rick would appreciate that.”

&n
bsp; Pulse thumping in her ears, Julie lowered her hand to her lap. Across the room Rick caught her eye as he approached from the kitchen. She nodded, giving him the cue.

  He cleared his throat. “Trudey. Would you mind having a seat? I’ll be right back with something.”

  “Well, sure, sugar. I’ve got all the time in the world.” She sat at one end of the couch and crossed her legs, bobbing her petite toes with their perfect, French pedicure.

  Julie’s heart thundered in her chest. The wall clock chimed; she turned and looked at it. Only 9 a.m. and she already felt overwhelmed by the day’s events. Though Rick had read the letter and given her brief feedback, she doubted he really understood how difficult writing it had been.

  He returned carrying the envelope. Sitting opposite Trudey on the couch, he looked at Julie. “You sure about this?”

  She nodded again.

  “Trudey, this is addressed to you. But Julie doesn’t want to just give it to you, she wants me to read it to you. And if you have questions after I’m done, she can answer with sign language, and I’ll translate. Like Ben did at the party. Okay?”

  Her mother’s foot stilled. Her eyes narrowed. She glanced at Julie then focused on Rick. “Okay.”

  He opened the envelope. “Dear Mother,” he read. “It’s taken me a long time to figure out some things. As a child, I often wondered if I grew up in the wrong family. We’ve never liked the same things. My hair isn’t like yours. My skin isn’t like yours. You’re petite and I’m not. Do I take after my dad?”

  Her mother stiffened and uncrossed her legs. “I will not talk about your father. It hurts me too much. Why are you bringing him up like this? To hurt me?”

  Rick read on. “I really want a picture of him. Just to have the memory.”

  “Memories only bring pain. I was shattered when he died. Simply shattered. You’d think after losing him in a plane crash, I’d be scared to fly, instead I can fly anywhere because of the settlement. Free airfare anywhere for life, where’s the justice in that, huh? Where was God when your daddy died?” She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. “Oh, just hurry up and get this over with.”

  “Since my accident,” Rick continued, “I’ve done a lot of thinking. And I’ve realized what’s most important to me. Like Rick’s love and our marriage. My children and their happiness. My family is more important than anything else.”

  “And your daddy is a lost part of your family.” Mother shifted, re-crossing her legs and bobbing her foot again. “Is that what this is about?”

  Julie shook her head. Why didn’t she understand?

  Her mother waved her ring-adorned hands and glared at Julie. “All right. I’ll find one and mail it to you. Satisfied? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on something else? Like losing the rest of your excess weight?”

  “Trudey.” Rick spoke softly, but with authority. He rose and walked to Julie, stood behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Julie reached up with her good arm and laced her fingers with his. “Keep going?”

  She nodded.

  “You mean there’s more?” her mother asked.

  “There are things I need from you,” Rick read. “Or I guess, don’t need from you. Please don’t say anything further about my singing. Or my appearance.” Rick paused. “Or my piano, or my faith. I realize they have no value to you, but it hurts me when you say negative things about them and about me. Just because you can’t see an injury doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

  Her mother stood. “I’m entitled to my opinions. I came here after the accident to help, and this is the thanks I get? So much for the Christian love and good will you’ve tried to guilt me with over the years.”

  Julie squeezed Rick’s fingers, then looking up, released them. She made a thumbs-up sign, and placed it on the fingers sticking out from her cast. Help.

  “Trudey. Will you please sit and let me finish?”

  Julie’s mother glared at her; Julie’s heart raced like a thoroughbred’s. She wasn’t trying to start a fight; all she was trying to do was stop her mother from hurting her further.

  She placed her open palm over her heart, moved it in a circle. Please.

  “Trudey. Julie needs you to listen to all of this, and talk about it while the kids aren’t here. Do you see what she’s doing? She’s saying please. As in please listen to me.”

  Her mother lunged. “Give me that.”

  She snatched the letter out of Rick’s hand and shredded it. Like tiny ashes, the pieces fluttered to the floor.

  “I don’t have to listen to this. And I’m not staying where I’m not wanted. I had planned to stay a couple more days to see the kids, but, no. I’ll be packed in five minutes. If you won’t take me to the airport now, I don’t care how much it costs, I’ll call a cab.” She stalked down the hall.

  “I’ll take you to the airport whenever you want to go,” Rick called after her, then squatted beside the bench. His hazel eyes found Julie’s.

  Tears bubbled in Julie’s eyes. She continued circling her palm over her heart.

  “I know. I know,” he said. “You weren’t trying to hurt her. But she can’t hear that right now, and frankly, I don’t want her hurting you anymore. She needs to go.”

  From the guestroom, drawers slammed. “Two minutes, Rick! I’m almost done!”

  He raised Julie’s cast-covered hand, kissed the exposed fingertips. “You know your body’s going to crash now, from Sean leaving, and this deal with your mother. Take a nap while I’m gone. Just sleep.” He shook his head and wandered down the hall.

  Rick returned first, carrying her mother’s huge, fuchsia suitcases. Julie watched her mother follow him back through the family room, the kitchen, toward the laundry room. She waited, but her mother said nothing to her. Didn’t even look at her, just shut Julie out like she always did.

  The back door opened, closed. The garage door raised. Out the front window, she saw Rick’s truck back into the driveway, heard the wheels leave gravel for the highway.

  She went to the kitchen, grabbed a high-protein shake from the fridge. Drank it through a straw on the way to her bedroom. Fully clothed she laid on Rick’s pillow, and taking his advice, let herself fall asleep.

  ***

  A slamming door woke Julie. She sat up. Her shoes had been removed and placed on the floor by the bed, her favorite afghan draped over her legs. Rick.

  Smiling, she ran her hand through her hair. Someone knocked on her door.

  Ben bounced into the room. “Daddy said I could wake you up if I knocked first. Tomorrow’s the last day of school, and we’re having relay races and water games and Free Play all day! I have to wear my bathing suit.”

  Julie raised her right hand, palm facing Ben, and pushed forward twice. Great.

  “Mrs. Furley said I have to bring a towel and a bag lunch. Can I use my lunchbox instead?”

  She nodded.

  He bounded forward and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. Daddy said Grandma left, and I have to help with chores. Bet you’re sad.” He ran from the room.

  Deciphering Ben’s disjointed comments sometimes confused her, but this time she understood. Sad? Yes. And disappointed. If someone really cared about you, wouldn’t she want to know if she was hurting you?

  Julie went to the kitchen. She put a frozen lasagna in the oven, set the timer, and walked to the barn.

  Rick met her outside the tack room, shovel in hand. He stepped close and kissed her forehead. “I almost joined you in bed after I got home from the airport for the second time today. But you were sleeping so peacefully.”

  She motioned for him to follow her into the tack room and turned on her computer. L-A-U-R-I-E, Julie signed.

  “Want me to call her? See if she can Skype?”

  She made a knocking motion. Yes. He called Laurie, then left Julie alone. After a few minutes, the first message popped up.

  Laurie: Did Sean leave today?

  Julie: For Oklahoma.

  Laurie: How are you?

&nb
sp; Julie: Okay about Sean. Question?

  Laurie: Shoot.

  Julie: Is that “the tongue is a fire” verse Clyde Newman quoted in church really in the Bible?

  Laurie: In James somewhere. Chapter 3?

  Julie: But it means words, right? That words can destroy a person?

  Laurie: Yes.

  Julie: Today I told my mother, some things she says hurt me.

  Laurie: What happened?

  Julie: She left.

  Laurie: My mom’s been gone ten years. I miss her every day.

  Julie: Because she was good to you and made you feel safe. I envy you.

  Laurie: How can I help?

  Julie: Book of James?

  Laurie: Yes.

  Julie: I’ll read it and get back with you. Bye.

  Laurie: Good plan. Bye. Oh! One more thing. Pierce and I were both talking last night about how much we miss you singing at church.

  Julie: I miss it, too. You’ll never know how much.

  Laurie: Skype me if you need me.

  Julie: Will do.

  Julie signed off and clicked onto the Internet, quickly locating a Bible site. The English Standard Version sounded like what Clyde had quoted and was easy to understand. Verse eight contained the phrase “deadly poison.” She couldn’t help but think of the snake bite.

  Weary, she rested her head in her hand.

  Dear God, I haven’t talked to You much lately except about my voice. I didn’t realize how much hurt I carry because of my mother. Please show me how to heal.

  ***

  After a long shower, Rick towel-dried his hair. He’d spent that entire Thursday lugging alfalfa bales, off-loading them from the delivery truck and into the barn-length loft above the stalls. Hard work. Dirty work. And hot. At least the load would last well into summer.

  Thankfully, Rachel hadn’t griped about or tried to wriggle out of her assigned tractor work. Ben had managed the gates, making her trips to the back acreage easier. And he’d rotated horses in the pastures. Scrubbed then re-filled the water buckets like a pro. Even scampered up and down the stairs to the loft, bringing Rick water and root beer and Gatorade.