Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series)

by Aaron D. Gansky

  The little guy was so tired on his first day of summer vacation, Rick knew he’d never make it through a bath after supper. So after pocketing Ben’s hearing aid, he hosed off the giggling child in the yard and sent him inside. That boy’s laugh contained the purest, most innocent joy Rick had ever heard. A beautiful sound which set the world back on its axis.

  Rick exited the bathroom. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow onto the bed where his wife lay, onto his pillow where an envelope waited. Julie must have, at some point, typed a letter to him, too.

  He smiled at her. This new Julie—which was really the old, pre-Ben Julie—was the girl he’d married. How he loved her.

  He walked to the bed, lifted the envelope. It bore his name.

  “You want me to read this now?”

  Julie nodded.

  He felt the grin spread across his face as he slid under the covers beside her. He drew her close and kissed her.

  “I’m so proud of you.” He looked into her eyes. “For not letting the injuries beat you. For sending our son into adulthood with the love and support he needs. For telling your mother the truth.”

  Her eyes left his. Using the envelope, he coaxed her to lift her chin.

  “Look at me. I know how hard that was for you. But you didn’t do anything wrong. The next move is hers.”

  His wife’s brow furrowed.

  “I know. She might stay mad for a long time. Or, she might miss you so bad she starts considering what you said.”

  Julie shook her head.

  “It could happen.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “Everything’s going to be all right now. Next week your cast will be taken off, and the wires removed.”

  Her eyes lit with joy.

  “I know the record producer hasn’t called back yet, but maybe that’s a good thing. You needed time to recuperate and take stock. Our family’s been through a lot, especially these last weeks. This way there’s no deadline. You set the priorities, you set the pace. You can call him when you’re ready.”

  She placed a finger over his lips.

  “You want me to stop talking?”

  She smiled shyly, pointed to the envelope, and kissed him. Slow. Soft. And needy.

  He opened it, unfolded the single sheet of paper with two printed lines in the center. I love you. And below that, Can we make love tonight?

  His wife loved him, wanted him, and needed him. What more could a man want?

  “I know this ordeal has been awful. The accident. Sean leaving. You standing up to your mother. But I feel like it’s a new beginning for us. One day after Rachel and Ben leave, it will be just us.”

  She flattened all four fingers of her good hand against his mouth.

  “Right. Stop talking.”

  She grinned, her eyes sparkling like an excited child’s. That look, that free, unburdened look usually preceded a laugh; how he’d missed it. And not just since she’d lost her voice. No, if he were honest, her laugh had been rare for weeks, months, even years before the accident. Ben’s arrival had derailed her life so abruptly, so completely, and much more so than Rick’s.

  He laid the letter and envelope on the nightstand, then moved over her. Her right hand skimmed his left shoulder, her fingers grazing the scar. She reared up and kissed the mark. He nibbled her jaw, blew down the side of her neck, knowing she’d shiver at the tickle, and under normal circumstances would’ve giggled.

  “Hm-hm-hmm.”

  They both went statue still. Her eyes filled with hopeful tears. “Did your voice just come back?”

  “Mmmmmm.” Her eyes rounded.

  “Did you know?”

  She shook her head. “It just happened,” she croaked.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “I love you,” she answered through her bound jaws.

  “I love you, too.” He kissed her face, her jaw line, working his way down. “I told you. Everything will be all right now.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sunday morning at church Julie greeted people with waves and sign language, still depending on Ben’s help in conversations. She didn’t want to strain her voice, so she’d told no one it had returned. After church, she found Laurie in the nursery changing Hope’s diaper.

  “We’ve got to clean you up before we go eat with Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Laurie.” Julie spoke through her still-bound jaws, from the doorway.

  Her friend turned, eyes wide in her freckled face. “Did you just talk?”

  She stepped closer. “Yeah. It surprised me Thursday. I didn’t believe it at first.”

  Steadying her child with one hand, Laurie grabbed Julie’s arm with the other. “That’s wonderful. This is wonderful, right? And means your vocal cords will be okay?”

  “I think so. I’m trying to ease back into using my voice.”

  Laurie straightened Hope’s yellow sundress and placed her child on her hip. “That sounds smart. I think I’d do the same. But, you don’t look happy.”

  “I’m thrilled to have my voice back.” Julie paused. “Rick says everything will be all right.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “Something’s wrong. I can’t figure out what, but something’s just not right.”

  “You mean other than Sean being gone and your mother leaving the way she did?”

  Julie nodded.

  “You think something’s wrong, or you know it, like, deep in your spirit?”

  “I think I know?” She laughed. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “Sure it does. God’s stirring up something. What do you think it is?”

  “I’m not sure. What do I do?”

  “Just listen. He’ll tell you. You might not like what you hear—I know I sometimes don’t—but He’ll tell you.”

  “I’ve never felt like this inside before, so I’ll take your word for it.”

  Her uneasiness increased when she left church. She thought about the scriptures Laurie had directed her to earlier that week, about what could be the true source of her disquiet, worried over it on the ride home, all afternoon, and into the evening.

  That night, she sat in bed with her Bible in hand, again reading the small book of James, trying to figure out why she felt so unsettled. Was the problem inside her? Between her and Rick? She couldn’t tell.

  When Rick came to bed after checking the horses, she put the book aside expecting him to comment on her reading and reach for her. He did neither. He turned his back to her and went to sleep.

  She awoke Monday morning with a throbbing headache, and sighed at the pain. Her husband had risen before her, which wasn’t strange, but for some reason added to her apprehension. The shadow of a new issue had appeared, but she couldn’t identify it.

  She quickly dressed, hustled herself and Ben through breakfast, figuring she’d let Rachel sleep in on this her first Monday of summer. She opened the dishwasher and found a skillet and plates, evidence of Rick having already made himself an omelet.

  “Mom, guess what,” Ben said. “Bradley Huggins said the first day of day camp is the most important because that’s when we pick teams.”

  “What kind of teams?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope Bradley picks me.”

  She ruffled his hair. “Go brush your teeth. We have to leave soon.”

  She poured herself a glass of apple juice. Standing by the counter, she inserted a straw and raised the glass to her lips. The back door opened. Rick and Rachel entered, obviously returning from the barn.

  Julie motioned at Rachel with her glass. “You’ve already been helping your dad?”

  Rachel avoided her gaze. “Sort of.” She walked through the kitchen.

  Rick washed his hands in the kitchen sink, barely glancing in Julie’s direction. “We’ll be ready in a minute.”

  “Rachel’s going with us?”

  Rick hesitated. “We’ll be dropping her off on the way.”

  “Dropping her where?”

  “I’l
l explain in the truck.”

  They now had two stops to make before meeting with the orthopedist. “Will we be on time to my appointment?”

  “We’ll make it.” He strode after his daughter.

  They left home a few minutes later. In the front seat, Julie flexed her left hand, anticipating the cast removal, as Ben chattered in the back about all the exciting things he looked forward to doing at day camp. “Daddy?”

  “Yeah, buddy.”

  “Pick me up at three, okay? Not two-thirty because we’ll still be playing soccer.”

  “Will do.” He reached over to gently hold the fingers protruding from her cast. “You nervous?”

  “A little. Where are we dropping Rachel?”

  Julie glanced back to her daughter, who sat behind Rick, staring out the window. On the seat between her and Ben rested the backpack she’d used during the previous school year. What was going on?

  She looked at Rick, who still drove one-handed. He took a long nose-breath, then blew it out slowly, something she hadn’t seen him do in weeks. They pulled into the parking lot at their first stop.

  “Ben? Got your lunch?”

  “Yes, Daddy. Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye, Ben.”

  Ben exited the truck and entered the building. Rick pulled out onto the highway. He took another long breath.

  “Our daughter had some difficulties this year in English.”

  Julie turned to Rachel. “You didn’t say anything.”

  “She tried to fix it. She went to her teacher. Didn’t you, Rachel?”

  “When did you ask for help? If you struggled all year—”

  “She didn’t meet a writing requirement.”

  “A writing requirement?”

  Julie looked around. “We’re driving to the school.”

  In the rearview mirror, she stared at her daughter. “You failed English and now have to attend summer school?” She and Rick would be spending most of the summer taking Rachel to school over one assignment?

  “She’s been diligent, Julie.”

  How could Rachel have kept this from her? From them?

  “She’s been steadily working to complete a four-thousand-word journal. She’s completed over half, and, yes, they’re letting her finish in summer school.”

  “Rachel, how long have you known this?”

  “Since the day of your accident,” Rick answered for Rachel.

  Then it dawned on her. She didn’t know about Rachel’s failure to complete her assignments, but Rick did. She looked at him. “How long have you known?”

  Her husband cleared his throat. “That’s tough to say.”

  “A day? A week?”

  He placed both hands on the wheel. “Ah, a few weeks.”

  “You knew?”

  And he’d kept it from her. Was she the odd one out here, too, like she was with her mother in regard to her father?

  “Have you grounded her, given her any consequences at all?”

  “I moved the manure pile last week,” Rachel mumbled.

  “That’s it?” If her jaw hadn’t still been wired shut, she definitely would’ve ground her teeth.

  Rick pulled to a stop in front of the school. “She needs to go now, Julie. Rachel, go on inside.”

  Her daughter fled. Rick drove on.

  “How can you defend her? I do not believe this.”

  She’d thought their marriage, their relationship, had changed for the better over the last weeks. Rick had been loving her and putting her first, even ahead of their daughter, like he used to. She’d thought they’d gotten back what they had in their pre-Ben years.

  “You’ve been covering for her.” Julie’s voice caught, she could almost feel the tender seam they’d stitched between them rip. “Like you always do. And how is that not lying to me?”

  ***

  They waited over an hour at the orthopedist’s office. A silent, very uncomfortable hour, before finally being called back for an x-ray, then to an exam room. Dr. Chang had only visited her hospital room once, but Julie definitely remembered the husky Asian man with the kind, wide smile. In less than ten minutes he quickly removed her cast, gave her instructions regarding mobility and skin care.

  “Call if you have any problems.” Dr. Chang patted her now cast-free hand and left.

  They made their way back to the receptionist, where Rick paid her co-pay.

  “I’ll be outside.” Julie walked to the truck and stood waiting, stretching and turning her left hand.

  Rick soon followed. He produced his key fob and unlocked the truck. Julie got in without his help as he slid into the driver’s seat. “We have to hurry to make it to Dr. Wyman’s office on time. But I can do it.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. How could Rick betray her like he had? How could he and Rachel have kept this from her, all year and since her accident?

  Thirty minutes later Julie sat in a dentist’s chair, hands folded, waiting for Dr. Wyman to appear. She heard him whistling his way through the office, hopefully coming toward her. But the Mr. Magoo-looking oral surgeon passed her room for another.

  She looked at her husband. Rick hadn’t uttered a word since they’d left the orthopedist’s. Even now, he simply sat on the bench under the window, flipping through a hunting magazine.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  His hands stilled. Long seconds passed, then he looked at her. “Like what?”

  His hazel eyes weren’t cold, exactly, but they were definitely veiled, certainly distant. A roommate look. As if she were someone he tolerated, because he was stuck with her. Where had the Rick of the last few weeks—the loving, attentive, caregiver and lover—gone?

  A nurse entered the room. “Julie? Please follow me.”

  After a round of x-rays of her mouth and jaw, the nurse led Julie back to her room. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

  She climbed back into the dentist’s chair. The whistling again caught her attention. She listened, straining to put a name to the tune. She looked heavenward. The theme from Star Wars? Really?

  True to form, Dr. Wyman entered with a flourish, his knee-length lab coat billowing behind him. His bulldog cheeks shook as he pumped Julie’s hand. “Mrs. Matthews. What a delight.”

  She smiled around her bound jaws. “Nice to see you, Dr. Wyman.”

  “And you’re talking now.” He winked at Rick and extended his hand. “Well, that puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it?”

  Rick stood and accepted the offer. “Sir.”

  The doctor turned back to Julie. “The films show you’re progressing nicely. You’ve been a good girl, Mrs. Matthews. The bones are still perfectly aligned, exactly how I positioned them during surgery. Jawbones always break in more than one place, yours was broken in three. I’d rather be safe than sorry, so, barring any setbacks, we can probably remove the wires in two weeks. You can set it up with my receptionist on your way out.”

  “You won’t take them off today?” She looked up at the doctor, then over at Rick. “We thought my jaw would heal the same as my arm.”

  The physician wagged a finger. “It’s not that simple. Didn’t you read the brochure? At least you’ve got two out of three problems solved. The cast is off and your voice is back.”

  He walked to a cabinet by the door, then handed her a brochure from a display.

  “We need your jaw bone to be as strong as possible before we remove the wires. For two or three weeks after that, your jaw will only open a little.” He reached into a drawer, produced a set of plastic teeth, and used them to demonstrate. “Your ability to chew will return gradually. But with exercises you’ll regain full mobility.”

  He fished in his droopy pocket, and withdrew a set of red, clacking teeth, set them on the counter. Immediately they jumped their way across the surface. Dr. Wyman spread his arms in a grand gesture.

  “Just like these! Aren’t they great? Any questions?”

  “No. No questions,” Julie answere
d.

  Rick stood. “Thanks, Dr. Wyman.”

  “See you in two weeks.” Whistling an encore of Star Wars, Dr. Wyman left the room.

  ***

  Rachel Matthews, Mrs. Tate’s English class, summer session:

  Wednesday, June 11:

  My mother has gotten her voice back. Hooray, right?

  School is now my favorite place again. Despite Britney-the-blonde-bimbo’s constant remarks (sorry, Mrs. Tate) about my bra size. Yesterday as we filed out the door for lunch, she actually popped my bra strap from behind, and somehow unhooked it. No one’s ever done that to me before, although a couple of stupid boys tried in seventh grade.

  I quickly folded my arms across my chest and went straight to the restroom near the cafeteria, thinking I could go in a stall, fix the bra, and still make it to lunch. But plumbers were in there, and the girls’ bathroom on this end of the building was closed. Which meant I had to walk all the way to the other end of the building. Only the doors that lead to those bathrooms lock behind you when you leave. (This I did not know.)

  So I fixed my bra, but got locked out of the building. I had to climb the fence and walk back around the campus. By the time I got to the lunchroom, lunch period was over. I grabbed some saltine crackers from the condiment table and ate them on the way to my next class.

  I know I only have six more weeks of Britney to endure, so that makes it bearable. If I’m smart during these six weeks (like never again standing in front of Britney) I can avoid any further bra mishaps.

  Not so with my mother. I’m stuck with her. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before she goes back to her old ways, lying in wait for me every day when I get home from school. She’s always been the biggest hypocrite. Sure she sang and smiled at church. But off stage, I felt like she was a hunter and I was the target. I never did anything right. And now that I screwed up English and have to attend summer school she’ll probably never be happy with me again.

  Before Ben, she used to tuck me in bed at night and sing to me. Sometimes I even sang with her, softly, because I really wanted to hear her beautiful voice. Singing together was like our special thing. She taught me to play “Chopsticks” on the piano, and sometimes she played with me.