Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series)

by Aaron D. Gansky

  She closed her eyes, swallowed against the shame rising in her throat. She’d known, for as far back as she could remember, that her mother resented being a widow and single parent. That she’d never forgiven Joseph Pitts for, as she called it, dying on her. Every word she’d ever spoken of him was laced with grief, coated with anger, and left Julie stockpiling guilt for being the tie binding her mother to “a pain worse than childbirth,” losing a spouse.

  If Rachel’s journal was even partly true, Julie had indeed been painfully aware of her mother’s verbal cruelty, yet had been acutely unaware of her own. The emotional subtitles she’d communicated with Rachel hadn’t come from the death of a spouse, but the delay of a dream.

  Fists clenched on her Bible, Julie shook her head. Dear God, You know I didn’t know I was doing it. I didn’t know. I ask forgiveness. I need help—I don’t know what to say to my daughter. Show me the truth. Show me the beam in my own eye.

  “Mom? Can I have more chocolate triangle toast?”

  She rose on shaky legs, took the plate from his extended hand. “Absolutely. It won’t take a minute.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best mommy ever.”

  Her eyes stung at the sincerity shining in Ben’s. At least she hadn’t made the same mistakes with him she seemed to have made with Rachel.

  She popped down the toast. Maybe it had happened as simply as Laurie theorized. However necessary at the time, Julie’s careful and focused attention on Ben had left Rachel feeling neglected. An outcast of sorts, nudged aside by a baby brother.

  But Rick had taken up the slack, hadn’t he? Shuttling Rachel to the barn with him and teaching her about the horses. Father and daughter had a special equine bond.

  Yet, was it a shared affection for horses that bonded them? Or, had Rachel turned to Rick because in her mind, she’d been abandoned by her mother?

  Julie served Ben more special toast, and braced against a surging tide of dread. She read, thought, and prayed throughout the afternoon, brainstorming what to say and how to say it. Still, she jolted with apprehension when foot stomps sounded at the back door.

  “Daddy, that’s not how it goes.” Rachel laughed as they entered the house.

  “You better double-check. A karaoke failure at Amber’s might end the world as we know it.”

  “Daa-ddy.”

  “Don’t leave your boots in the middle of the floor. Put them on the shelf where they belong.”

  “Mrs. Rousseau said she’s got some she never wears, my size and everything, that I might like to have. I told her I’d have to ask. Can I, Daddy? Can I?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here when you get home from school tomorrow. We’ll talk about it then.”

  “Yes, sir.” Excitement bubbled in Rachel’s response.

  Julie watched and waited. Seconds later they squeezed through the doorway to the kitchen, like two best friends practically joined at the hip. They both saw her at the same moment. Their faces froze, the chatter stopped, their steps slowed.

  Bile curdled in her gut. Jealousy? Was she jealous of Rick and Rachel’s relationship?

  She blinked, and studied their startled then wary faces.

  Fear flashed in Rachel’s eyes and she looked away. “I forgot my homework in the barn. Be right back.” She fled like a threatened rabbit.

  Rick walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “Is what’s in the pot for supper?”

  “Yes. Vegetable stew.”

  “Great. I’ll take a bowl in the family room and watch the end of the race.”

  She carried a bowl of soup to Ben, encouraged him to eat slowly, then let him crumble Goldfish crackers into his supper. When the race ended, she timed carrying Ben’s bowl to the kitchen to when Rick and Rachel carried theirs. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into her daughter’s path.

  “Rachel, I want to apologize for saying things that hurt you.”

  Rachel stood rigid as if expecting a blow, her eyes on the kitchen ceiling. “Am I supposed to say anything?”

  “Maybe accept my apology?”

  “What about Daddy?” Rachel looked at Rick. He looked at the floor.

  “What about him?”

  Arms folded, Rachel stared past Julie’s shoulder. “I have school tomorrow. Can I be excused to my room?”

  Rick took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “Yes, Rachel, you may go to your room.”

  Julie looked at him. “What? Why are you letting her go? We need to talk this out.”

  She scanned their faces. A look passed between husband and daughter, the same vibe lingering in the air as the night Julie gave Sean the letter.

  She gulped. Had she been the odd one out that evening, as well? Is that what she’d sensed?

  Rejection sparked hurt, which flashed to a flame of panic. I don’t have to listen to this. And I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.

  She heard her mother’s words in her heart, ready to jump out.

  No, she thought. No! And holding her hand over her mouth, she left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Four o’clock in the morning and Rick couldn’t sleep.

  His body was exhausted. The previous day after helping the farrier with Trident, he’d cleaned more stalls and placed more new mats while Rachel worked on schoolwork in the tack room. Pushing himself past the point his muscles shook with fatigue, he’d finished the last two stalls by sheer will, and a desire to leave his body tired enough that his mind wouldn’t be able to think.

  His plan hadn’t worked. Though every joint and ligament ached, his heart and mind throbbed much like the torn callouses on his right hand.

  He rolled slowly, from his side to his back in the bed. Fighting a groan, he raised a knee, draped a forearm against his tightly furrowed brow, and stared into the darkness. Beside him, Julie sighed and adjusted her pillow.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Hmm? What?”

  “I tried not to shake the bed too much.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she answered.

  Even with her sleepy tone, her still bound jaws made the words sound tense, forced, and spiked with disapproval. He’d expected no less, which was why he’d offered the apology before she even had the chance to fuss at him for disturbing her sleep.

  Their normal. He’d been trained, or had trained himself, to express regret at any given moment, to feel remorse and freely voice it. Even when there was nothing to apologize for.

  The bedside clock changed to 4:12 a.m. The quiet, middle of the night, but he knew sleeping was impossible. He slid aside the comforter. Slipped his feet to the floor. Pulled on a work shirt and jeans, then crept from the bedroom. He eased the door closed behind him, and stood in the silent hall of his home.

  Ben coughed in his sleep. Rick looked in on him. The child had kicked off all his covers, and had balled up at the foot of his race car bed, mouth open. Rick covered him up where he lay, then peeked in at Rachel. How she favored her mother—her thick brown hair spread on her pillow—never ceased to melt his heart. Leaving her room, he ambled through the house and out the mud room door.

  The moon appeared huge. Almost close enough to touch, if one were brave enough to stand on the barn’s roof. It seemed to cast a filmy glow on the quiet earth as Rick trod to the stables. The horses heard him approach, they always did, and whinnied as he unhooked the first gate and walked past their stalls flicking on lights. He entered the tack room and, out of habit, reached for the radio switch. But the quiet seemed to have followed him to the barn, conquering the restless noise in his head. For once, he indulged in silence and was surprised to find it oddly comforting.

  His body begged for sleep. He sat and leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and told himself he’d close his eyes for only a minute or two. So his mind could reset and stop replaying every curt exchange that had taken place between him and Julie over the years. So he could remember what the previous weeks had been like, when it seemed their love had been reborn.
r />   What would it take to start over in their marriage?

  “Rick.”

  Was he dreaming? Drifting in twilight sleep, having wished she’d pursued him all the way out here to the stables, just to be near him? Just to be alone with him.

  “Rick.”

  A soft touch on his arm. He felt a slow smile begin. He tried sinking into the dream with a sigh.

  And smelled Angelina Rousseau’s perfume.

  Rick opened his eyes. Scrubbing both hands over his face, he sat up. How long had he been out?

  He blinked to focus, and there she was. Angelina. “How long have you been here?”

  She’d folded both hands at her waist. “Not long. The lights were on, but there was no music, so I looked in.” She stepped back. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

  “No, it’s fine.” He rose. Sunshine speared through the tack room windows. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Came out here to get an early start on the day, guess I dozed off.”

  “I should’ve stayed longer yesterday and helped you again, rather than popping in for a few minutes to check on Godiva.”

  “You don’t work here, Angelina. Your help Saturday was appreciated, but you pay boarding fees for a reason.”

  “I know.” She moved to the window. “But I might as well have stayed. Nicholas had promised he’d be home from a job in Pennsylvania by noon. His flight landed at 11 a.m. That’s why I came by for only a few minutes. I needed to be home when he got there. But, he never showed.”

  “Like, he missed his flight?”

  She fiddled with the half-dozen silver chains at her neck and stepped back. “He didn’t miss it. The job’s not finished. I guess he’ll come home later this week.”

  The horses neighed for his attention and their breakfast. He grabbed his black Stetson resting on the back counter. His gaze locked with Angelina’s as it had last week when she’d referred to her husband’s business trips. Do most men leave their wives?

  And it hit him. After a full recovery, Julie’s career might take off, and he might be the one left behind while she pursued her dream. He’d considered the logistics of running the stables without her, which was why he was spending so much time learning the accounting programs. But he’d not considered the abandonment he might feel every time she traveled to sing for others.

  How could two people stay close if they spent little time together?

  Or, would frequent times apart actually save their marriage? If she wasn’t there to find fault, if he didn’t have to run interference between her and Rachel ...

  He placed the hat on his head. “I’m thinking you miss Nicholas pretty badly when he’s gone. That’s why you’re here so much, right?”

  She looked away, turned. “Can you, um, wait a minute to start morning feedings? I’ll be right back.”

  He heard her boots click down the concrete walkway outside the stalls, heard her flip the heavy metal latches on the locker outside Godiva’s space. She returned with a check, and both hands shook as she placed it on the desk between them. Again she folded her hands at her waist.

  “Are you all right? What’s going on?”

  She cleared her throat and lifted her eyes to his. They glistened with unshed tears.

  He skirted the desk and, as when he’d found her crying in the arena last week, his instinct was to reach for her in comfort. This time, he was forced to clench both fists at his sides.

  “I lied to you.” She gulped, obviously straining not to cry. “The first time I came here, when I asked you to take on Godiva.”

  “I don’t understand.” He lifted the check. Read the amount. “You don’t have to pay extra because she’s pregnant. Though I have wondered with her size, if she’s farther along than you implied.”

  “It’s twins.”

  “That almost never happens. Like, one in ten thousand.”

  “I know.”

  “And this is her first?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was afraid you’d turn us away. Another place I looked at didn’t want the liability.”

  “Because having twins is pretty dangerous for the mother and the foals. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  She grasped the hand that held the check. “Please don’t make us leave. I trust you. I trust you with her and her foals. I’m so frightened for them.”

  “What do the sonograms show? Are the foals whole and intact? I guess you told the vet not to say anything to me.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Yes, I did. Because I was afraid you’d make us leave. But the twins look remarkably healthy.” Her face glowed with hope. “One is a little smaller, that’s to be expected, but I know he’s a fighter.”

  “You’re taking a big risk with Godiva. With all three. Conceiving twins is rare enough, but having them survive is even less common.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I won’t submit her to a selective abortion. I want them all. I need them all.”

  She raised their joined hands to chin level, the check still dangling between them.

  “Here’s my bribe. Prepaid boarding fees for all three for a year, because Godiva should deliver in the next week or so. And until then, I do want to stay here in the barn with her as much as you’ll let me. Nicholas isn’t home anyway. I can throw a sleeping bag down on the concrete outside her stall.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He waved off her idea. “Of course, Godiva can stay. Of course, you can sleep here at night. I think I’ve got a fold-up cot somewhere. We’ll scoot my desk over and you can sleep in here. We’ll move her to the stall next door so you can hear her.”

  “Oh, Rick. Thank you!” She threw her arms around him. “I could kiss you!”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Julie’s low voice came from the tack room’s open doorway.

  Rick eased Angelina away, looking past her to his wife, who seemed to withdraw into herself much as she’d done at the hospital when undergoing the swallow test. “I didn’t expect to see you before you left with the kids this morning.”

  “Obviously not.” Her gaze went flat. “I brought you your phone. Thought you might need it.”

  He checked his pockets. Sure enough, he’d left it charging by the bed, forgotten, when he’d snuck out so early this morning.

  He took it from her. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be finished in time to take you to the ENT at ten. We can get lunch out after.”

  She looked at Angelina. “And I assume you’ll be here as well, when I return from taking our children to summer school and day camp?”

  “Your husband said I could stay,” Angelina answered softly.

  “Yes, my husband did.” Julie’s voice was laced with distress.

  “Let me walk you back and tell the kids bye.”

  He slipped past her through the door. They walked together away from the stables.

  “Nothing happened in there. It’s not what you think.”

  She’d wrapped her arms around herself. “Rachel will be late if I don’t hurry.”

  “Julie, please. We were talking about her horse. You’re hurting over something that’s not true. Don’t we have enough other things to worry about?”

  He stopped walking, stopped talking, and watched his wife walk away from him again. Which was what he wanted, right? To avoid a confrontation?

  Yet he sensed, this time it was he who’d messed up.

  ***

  By the time Julie reached the back door, her steps had slowed as if from invisible weight, her strength had drained as if she’d carried that weight too long and too far.

  She grabbed the knob. In the past, anger had often been her fuel. She’d been energized by it, and she realized, had depended on it to propel her over hurdles of exhaustion when Ben was an infant. Through red tape when dealing with insurance companies and physicians. Into new routines like learning sign language and coordinating treatments and surgeries with various specialists.

  She
all but stumbled to her room. Closed the door and sank to sit on the bed, her breathing shallow. Yes, there’d been long periods of time she’d lived on anger. Now she saw she couldn’t afford it, or the way it made her behave toward her family.

  She closed her eyes and saw them, Rick and Angelina. Her husband, being hugged by a beautiful woman who clearly wanted him. Her husband, his expression guarded as he saw her and slowly broke the embrace.

  Dread bubbled in her stomach, then the pain hit, knocking what little breath she had right out of her. Anger would simply drive her husband farther away.

  “Mom?” Rachel called and knocked at her door. “Mom, I can’t be late for school.” A pause. “Is Daddy taking me?”

  Julie slowly stood. “I’ll be right there. You and Ben get in my car.”

  Like all the times she’d been scared when Ben had stopped breathing, when they received a negative prognosis for her sweet little boy, she stuffed the pain and fear deep inside. Later she’d always told herself. She’d deal with it later.

  But later had never come, had it? There had never been time. There was always a next thing to do. So the stress of Ben’s care and the fear for her son whose early years had been such a struggle had stockpiled. The worry and hurt that she’d never get her chance at a singing career had festered. Higher and higher until there was no more room inside her. That’s what had spewed out on Rachel. Her own fear and pain, frustration and hurt. Because that’s what was in her heart.

  How could she ever get to the roots of it all and dig them out?

  And how, how could she reach her husband, whose withdrawal she was only beginning to understand, without pushing him straight into another woman’s arms?

  She lifted her purse, walked with deliberate steps to the garage. Hyper-aware as she backed out, of the car’s movement and the blaring sun, she stopped at the end of their driveway, double- and triple-checked for oncoming traffic.

  “Mom,” Rachel huffed. “No one’s coming. You’ll have to drop me off first and then take Ben instead of the other way around. We’ll barely make it.”