Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series)

by Aaron D. Gansky

  She turned to Angelina. “You can change in the bathroom and drape your blouse over the desk chair. I even have extra gloves.”

  “I’ve got my own gloves in my locker, but since you insist I’ll try the shirt.”

  Rick folded down the top of the Cheetos bag, pushed it against the back of the counter, as Angelina took the tee from Rachel.

  “I’ll go muck the arena.” Rachel darted out the door.

  Rick motioned to the cotton shirt in her hands. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

  Like they had the other morning, those dark eyes seemed fixed on his. With sincerity and trust, rather than the judgment and anger he’d walked away from in his bedroom. Rick shook his head, shot his empty drink can over the desk to the garbage pail near the door.

  “Two points.” He jerked a thumb toward the back corner of the tack room. “You know where the bathroom is.”

  To his amazement, at his direction they easily established a system. Angelina led a horse out to the arena while he and Rachel mucked the stall. Together they removed the old mat and loaded it onto his flat-bed trailer. He hosed down the stall, the girls installed the new mat, and they started again.

  At mid-afternoon they took a break for lunch, and settled in the tack room with filthy clothes but freshly-washed hands. WCIK serenaded them as they ate off paper towels and crunched crisp apples.

  “Boss man,” Angelina teased, “you’ve got orange-Cheetos lips.”

  “I’m not the only one.” He pointed at her.

  “Okay,” said Rachel. “Worst country song ever.”

  “Bubba Shot the Jukebox,” said Rick.

  Rachel laughed. “Like the one at the diner?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s dumb,” answered Rachel.

  “You asked.”

  She cut her eyes at him, then at Angelina. “Achy Breaky Heart.”

  Angelina wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “I have to admit, Billy Ray Cyrus did have some moves.” She paused. “I rather liked ‘Did I Shave My Legs For This?’”

  Rick almost choked.

  Rachel laughed so hard she hiccupped. “That’s not a song.”

  Angelina smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  Rick’s gaze locked with Angelina’s again. She’d done something different with her make-up today, something shimmering that made her eyes sparkle. Her hair still had a silky shine despite their hours of sweaty work. The T-shirt fit her very nicely, too—

  Stop it, he told himself. He closed his eyes in shame.

  Later as they finished the tenth stall, Rick’s back threatened to freeze up. Though he’d done the heaviest work, he knew the girls had to be hurting, too.

  “Ladies, let’s stop for the day.” He leaned on his shovel.

  “Finally.” Rachel moaned. “I need another water. Anybody else want one?”

  Rick and Angelina declined. Rachel went to the tack room.

  “You didn’t have to work like this,” he said to Angelina.

  “It was fun.”

  “I feel like I should give you a break on the boarding fee.”

  “Rick, stop. I would’ve been alone at home.” She removed her gloves and seemed to look straight to his soul. “Your daughter’s a treasure. And friendship like this, it’s priceless.”

  “Sun’s about to go down. I need to get started on the evening feedings. Rachel doesn’t have to help me. She can watch you give Godiva a massage, if you still don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind her at all.”

  “Goodnight, then.” He left her standing by Godiva’s now clean stall.

  Later that night, Julie was already asleep when he showered off the grime of the day, and rid himself of the smell of sweat and horse dung. But more than once he had to shake Angelina’s lovely scent from his mind.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  In the grass parking lot of The Barn Church, Julie pulled her car farther into the implied space between two other vehicles. Rick had stayed home to tend Ben, and give her some time away from the vomiting and moaning. Of course, Rachel stayed home, too. Apparently she worked so hard yesterday she could hardly get out of bed.

  The ancient double doors stood wide open. Wiry Clyde Newman stood on one side of the doorway offering his hand. Deacon Floyd—Clyde’s polar opposite in appearance—manned the other side. The deacon’s broad, welcoming smile shone brightly in his big, black face atop his bulky shoulders and frame. Julie had always thought him to be one of the kindest people she knew, with his quiet voice and steady rhythm of speech. How did someone get to be that calm? That patient and easy-going?

  His children are grown, she thought. And, he’s not a mother. Or a wife. He has a wife.

  But Laurie was a wife, and mother, and she had a calm, caring manner. Was it simply personality? Would it last when Hope became a teenager?

  Julie shook both Clyde and the deacon’s hand as she entered the sanctuary. The choir rows were filling up. A few members spotted her and waved. She waved back, continuing up the side aisle. She scanned the audience for Laurie, but saw only Pierce. He motioned her over and shook her hand.

  “No Matthews troop this week?”

  Julie shook her head.

  “Still not sharing about your voice returning?”

  She hadn’t realized she didn’t answer him with words. “Guess I’m a little self-conscious about talking through gritted teeth. At times it sounds so mean.”

  “So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong when I preach.”

  Julie laughed. “Is Laurie here?”

  “In the nursery. Hope’s teething and not liking it one bit. Laurie’s trying to calm her before service starts.”

  “Thanks. I’ll find her.”

  “Sure.”

  Julie made her way to the back of the building. The huge, old barn was open to the rafters in the sanctuary at the front. But the rear of the building had a ceiling of normal height in the nursery, classrooms, and offices.

  She leaned in over the open Dutch door. Laurie sat in a rocking chair at the far end of the room rocking a half-asleep, sniffling Hope. “There’s my angel. I know, those nasty teeth. But you can’t eat pizza without them.”

  Julie reached over and unlatched the door. “Hey. Is this a bad time?”

  “No, she’s nursed and burped. We’re in the home stretch now.”

  Julie walked over and sat in the rocking chair next to Laurie’s. “Ben’s still got the flu.”

  “It’s going around. Probably won’t be anyone else in here all morning. Isabella came in for a minute, just to use the changing table. She and Luke are getting married soon.”

  Hope blinked at Julie with her daddy’s blue-glass eyes.

  “Pierce said she’s teething.”

  “Four at one time across the top. Her bottom’s raw from diarrhea with it. Cries every time she pees ’cause it burns. I’m coating her with ointment, but she’s just plain miserable.” She kissed her daughter’s blonde head. “Aren’t you, baby?”

  As if on cue, Hope took a stuttering breath. Julie watched as the child relaxed and finally let her eyes close.

  “There she goes,” Julie said.

  “Thank heaven. I was up with her all night. She’s been a pretty easy baby until now, but nothing comforts her. She has to wear herself out with anger and tears before she’ll sleep. And she wants to be held all the time.” Laurie laughed. “I practically live in my nightgown. I think this is the first time I’ve had on real clothes all week. But how are you? Bet you’re enjoying life without the cast.”

  Julie flexed her left hand. “Definitely a plus. And the voice has stayed. Another plus. I’ll have the wires for five more days, until Friday, but who’s counting?”

  “Life’s a wonder, isn’t it? You think you’re sailing smooth, then boom! Nothing’s like you expected. All my life I’d wanted to be a mother. I had no idea how I’d yearn for a dry bra and adult conversation.” She laughed.
<
br />   “Can I ask you something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s pretty personal.”

  Laurie stopped rocking. “Please don’t treat me like the pastor’s wife. We’re friends. Nursing a baby is the most natural thing, but I wouldn’t have had a clue how to survive those first few weeks of exhaustion and knots and bleeding scabs without you. I’m a little worried about her having teeth.” She resumed rocking.

  “There are ways to deal with that, too. Call me anytime.”

  Muted strains of the choir’s opening song marked the beginning of the service. Laurie laid her hand over Julie’s on the armrest. “Bet you’re anxious to get back up there.”

  She was, but she wasn’t. Rick’s comment we’ve got a problem here, and you starting a singing career won’t take care of it had her insides tied in knots.

  “So,” Laurie said, “you wanted to ask ...”

  “Have you always been this nice? This caring and nurturing?”

  Laurie smiled. “Pierce would say it’s my personality, and that’s what drew him to me when we met in college. Empathy’s my strong suit, but the flipside is I can get my feelings hurt pretty badly if I had my heart set on something.”

  “Which is what happened when you got pregnant with Hope.” Julie considered for a moment. “But you didn’t know you had that weakness. I mean, until you found yourself in that situation, you didn’t know your marriage could be that vulnerable.”

  “Oh, it was vulnerable all right. And you’re a hundred percent correct that my pregnancy put both mine and Pierce’s weaknesses in the spotlight, so to speak.”

  Laurie carefully stood. “Lower that bedrail, will you?”

  Julie obliged. Laurie lay down her daughter, covered her with a blanket, and raised the side back into place. In deep sleep, Hope’s baby-pink lips mimicked sucking and tiny bubbles formed at her mouth. Both mothers returned to their seats and rocked, each chair creaking its own, distinct rhythm.

  “You’ve tip-toed around whatever’s bothering you, and now you’re stalling.” Laurie closed her eyes. “If you don’t start talking I’m likely to fall asleep and drool on myself like Hope is.”

  “You know about the accident. And the producer from Nashville. When I was in the hospital I was so angry and scared. I felt so alone. Then Rick started taking care of me.” She felt a tiny blush rise. “It felt like when we were first married. It felt like before Ben was born.”

  “Every woman likes to be pampered and babied sometimes. Nothing wrong with that.”

  Julie looked down at her hands. “But this was more. There was distance between me and Rick that I didn’t let myself recognize and admit.”

  Laurie nodded. “And during your recovery you saw the difference between the two.”

  “Exactly. But now I realize Rachel was as affected by Ben’s arrival as I was.”

  She told Laurie about Rachel’s journal. Her voice quivered as she shared Rick’s reaction, and how her marriage seemed in worse condition now, than it had before the accident.

  “Remember that feeling I had that something wasn’t right?”

  “Yes.”

  “This was the cause. Rick didn’t know about the journal entries, but he knew Rachel felt this way about me. As soon as my voice returned, I felt the change in them.”

  Laurie looked over at her sleeping child. “Which must hurt you pretty badly. If I hurt my daughter that way, even if it was a misunderstanding, I’d want her to tell me. Although it would be hard to hear. I can’t promise I’d take it well.”

  Julie stopped rocking. “But what if what she thought about you wasn’t true? She’s convinced I changed after Ben was born, that I stopped loving her, caring about her, listening to her.”

  “Forgive me, Julie, but you just finished telling me how different your marriage was before Ben. Isn’t it possible Rachel’s life changed as much as yours? Did you ever explain things to her?”

  “I couldn’t explain them to myself. I was barely surviving. Ben was a surprise—I think I told you that—but I did love him. Caring for him, doing everything to keep him alive and fed and healthy was never in question. But I was drowning.”

  Her eyes watered and she gulped. “Having a cleft palate, every feeding was a risk he’d choke and turn blue. With the apnea, he frequently stopped breathing while sleeping.”

  “I can’t imagine the stress you were under.”

  “My entire life changed focus in a heartbeat. The goal of every day, every hour, every minute, was keeping Ben alive until the surgical reconstruction of his palate. After that, it was constant ear infections, learning of his permanent hearing loss. Surgery last summer to repair his eardrum. Rick’s been building the business to pay for insurance and the bills. There’s been no time to do anything else.”

  “Except what had to be done the very next minute.” Laurie reached for her hand. “You didn’t throw your daughter by the wayside. Life put you in an impossible position. That crisis is over, but you’re still left with the fallout.”

  “According to her journal I constantly snap at her.”

  Tears, which had puddled in her eyes, spilled over. Julie let them fall as she looked at her friend.

  “Laurie, I’m afraid she’s right. I didn’t think about it before, but now I see I barked orders to get our family through another day, sometimes another minute. I didn’t even think about not tucking her in bed after Ben was born. And I did stop singing to her and teaching her how to play the piano. But I never said to Rachel the things my mother said to me.”

  Laurie’s eyes shone with sympathy. “No, my friend, I think you say completely different things to your daughter. Yet you both have deep wounds from your mothers. If you don’t heal the relationship, you’ll lose your daughter like your mother has lost you.”

  “I used to get so angry, so frustrated with doctors and therapists who said Ben would never be able to function in the real world.”

  “Are you angry and frustrated now?”

  “I’m ashamed to say part of me still is, because of the accident. And these stupid wires.”

  “The wires would frustrate any breathing person. Though you do look fabulous.”

  “Twenty-four pounds. I’ve lost twenty-four and a half pounds. I’m in a size fourteen for the first time since I got pregnant with Ben.”

  “Which should have made your mother extremely happy with you.”

  Julie laughed. “My mother’s never happy with me.”

  “Because she’s unhappy inside. There’s a great verse in Luke. Chapter six I think, you’ll have to look it up. Jesus talks about how we all speak from the abundance of our hearts. Your mom’s unhappy inside, so unhappiness comes out of her.”

  “I don’t like the frustration that’s inside me, Laurie. The anger. I’m afraid over the years it’s all come out at my daughter, and I didn’t even realize it was there.”

  ***

  Julie eased off the gas and turned in at her driveway. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded, the way she imagined they would if she were on her way to perform at a sold-out arena.

  She walked into the house. Rick sat at their butcher-block table, reading the Sunday newspaper.

  “I thought you’d be watching the NASCAR pre-show.”

  “I’ll have to listen to it in the barn. The farrier’s on his way. Trident won’t put weight on his back right hoof today.” He continued reading, not looking at her. “Ben hasn’t thrown up any more, but he hasn’t eaten anything either.”

  “And Rachel?”

  “Rachel’s doing her homework in the tack room.”

  She waited, but he still didn’t look in her direction. “Thanks for staying with Ben so I could go to church.”

  “What did Pierce talk about this morning?”

  She walked over and sat directly across from him. He simply turned the page of the sports section.

  “I don’t know. I spent the morning talking with Laurie about the situation with Rachel. I needed anothe
r woman’s perspective.”

  Finally he looked at her. “As opposed to my perspective. She’s our daughter, but you’d rather get advice from a friend than listen to me.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” He knew how hard making friends was for her in the first place. Did he really resent her asking their pastor’s wife for help?

  Rick rose from his seat, went to the fridge, and refilled his tea glass.

  “Rick, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He gulped the drink and set his glass by the sink. “I’ll be at the barn.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand perfectly. I’m an idiot, and we’re back to business as usual.”

  “I’d like to talk to her tonight.” She turned to watch him walk to the mud room, where he donned his boots and hat. “I’d like to talk to Rachel. Both of us, together.”

  He didn’t answer. He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  “I’d like to fix this,” she whispered.

  “Mom? Mommy?” Ben sounded groggy and weak.

  She went to the family room where he lay watching the pre-show for the race.

  “Can I have some chocolate triangle toast?”

  Julie knelt in front of him, brushed his matted hair and felt his forehead. “I think your fever’s finally broken. You’re hungry?”

  “I didn’t ask Daddy for chocolate triangle toast. Only you know how to make it.”

  A secret recipe, she’d told him after his last surgery. Bread lightly toasted, crust removed, covered with a light layer of Nutella, and cut on the diagonals.

  Last summer, she’d have done anything to see him smile while they were stuck inside the house. He hadn’t been allowed to play or swim or ride the horses, couldn’t bend over or cough or even sneeze. And he’d hated the huge, earmuff-looking bandage on the side of his head. On a whim she’d created the special treat, and almost wept with gratitude when he gave a snaggle-toothed grin and asked for more.

  “Let me take your temperature. We’ll start with one piece and see how it goes.”

  She started a pot of vegetable soup and while it simmered, settled with her Bible in the family room near Ben. Luke 6:45 stated one’s words indicated the contents of one’s heart. But it was the preceding verses that most caught her attention. Hypocrite, the same word Rachel had used in her journal. The term for anyone who refused to see his own faults and instead dwelt on the faults of others.