Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series)

by Aaron D. Gansky

  She pulled onto the road. The car crawled forward.

  “Mom?”

  She shook herself. “I know. I’ll take you first.”

  “But I don’t want to be late either,” Ben said. “Mondays the boys get snacks first.”

  “I’ll have you there as quickly as I can.” Julie repeatedly glanced in the rearview mirror until she couldn’t see their home, their property.

  What were Angelina and Rick doing now?

  She couldn’t afford to think about it. She had to concentrate to drive safely, make the correct turns to drop the children in reverse order.

  They arrived at Rachel’s school with seconds to spare. She left without a word or a look. Julie stopped at a convenience store, bought Ben a bag of Skittles to keep in his pocket in case he missed snack time. She dropped him at day camp, then turned into a McDonald’s drive-thru.

  Pulling back onto the street, she reached into the paper bag, savored the fragrant, rising steam. She grabbed the sausage biscuit and remembered her still-bound teeth.

  “What is happening to me?” she cried. “I can’t even eat this.”

  Nor did she want to, she realized, as she tossed the biscuit and bag aside, then gripped the steering wheel. She’d gladly give up burgers and fries for the rest of her life to feel safe and secure again in her home, her family, in Rick’s love. She’d never be able to compete with the Angelinas of this world, even if she took her mother’s advice and got professional help with her appearance.

  She arrived at the ENT’s office an hour early, parked in the small lot. Humid heat rose in waves from the lined asphalt. She lifted her phone, considered calling Rick, and saw the blonde, Dr. Lilly, exit a nearby side door.

  The physician strolled to a glossy red Corvette, which matched her flirty heels. She opened the trunk and retrieved a shiny gift bag, carried it back inside. The petite woman in a sleeveless blouse and tailored slacks looked less like a physician and more like a model, with her perfect hair, her toned arms, and flat stomach.

  Julie rested her head back against the seat. Remembered the attractive and single ENT’s comments about Rick when visiting Julie in the hospital. No, she wouldn’t call and ask him to meet her here. She couldn’t take witnessing Rick get hit on twice in one morning.

  Besides, this appointment was strictly a formality. Her voice had returned on its own, which meant her vocal cords had recovered. Right?

  She texted Rick that she’d driven herself to her appointment and closed her eyes.

  Please, God, let this part of my day be good news.

  ***

  A hot breeze fluttered across the pasture and over Rick’s face. He read the message from Julie. Drove myself to the ENT. Errands to run after. Be home after picking up Ben.

  He wiped sweat from his brow with a worn bandana, and felt the sting of shame like the fat splinter he’d later be digging out of his finger. He was actually thankful not to be in her company right now or later this afternoon. To be working alone along the fence line, concentrating on the task without listening for Julie’s approach, without bracing for the next verbal onslaught.

  He strode to the flatbed behind his tractor. Lifted an armful of slats and walked along the decaying fence line, dropping pieces as he went. He removed the old timber, slid the worn and rusted screws in the back pocket of his carpenter’s pouch, and methodically replaced each piece, attaching with new screws.

  The task would have been much easier, gone much faster with assistance. But he’d rejected Angelina’s offer to help, assuring her the job was more than manageable. That way he could say when asked—and Julie would ask—he hadn’t spent the day in Angelina’s company.

  He secured the next screw, the battery-powered drill buzzing and whining in his hand. Then, the silence of grass growing tall and ready for grazing.

  Walking back to the trailer for more slats, he heard Angelina’s sharp whistle echo in the metal-walled arena. Godiva’s weary whinny followed.

  The cell in his front shirt pocket vibrated, as he’d earlier forwarded the house phone to his cell. He checked the display, saw it was an out of area number, and let it go to voicemail. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  He worked for another hour, until he’d used all the slats resting on the trailer. Then drove the tractor back to the stables. He entered the tack room and took his sandwich from the small refrigerator.

  Angelina had left a note on his desk, another apology, and a notice she’d return tomorrow. Enjoying the soothing air conditioning, he sat at his desk, guzzled a root beer, ate, and listened to the voicemail.

  “Rick-a!” Julie’s voice coach, Carmine, had left a long message stating he was available when Julie recovered, to both prepare her and help reschedule the audition.

  Rick saved the message. Hopefully, his wife was getting good news at the doctor and would cool off before coming home. He wouldn’t call her. He’d give her time.

  Surely in this situation like so many others, silence was best. Avoiding more conflict was smart, right?

  He checked the computer for emails from clients, vets, and suppliers. An email from Sean, the first since he’d left fourteen days earlier, showed a timestamp of 11 a.m. that morning.

  Hey, Dad.

  This is the first chance I’ve had to write. I do miss home. Tell Lisa I’ll call her this weekend. Tell Rachel she was right about the food, it’s gross. Tell Ben and Mom I said hi.

  And Dad, don’t worry. I was ready for this. I keep my mouth shut, just like you always do, no matter what Mom says to you.

  I’m making you proud, Dad.

  Sean

  Rick read the message twice, then hung his head. If Sean married Lisa, would Rick want his son to behave as he did, in his marriage?

  He wanted to pray. Felt like he should pray. Then embarrassment mixed with shame. He’d always thought himself a quiet man, an easy-going man. What if he’d really been just plain lazy? Or a coward?

  Or worse, the perfect example of a man who didn’t lead his family.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Julie left Dr. Lilly’s office on wobbly legs. Head pounding, she slumped into her car, cranked it. While the air conditioner battled the stifling June heat, she sat in the baked interior and stared at the brick building until the mortar lines blurred before her eyes.

  The petite physician with Tinkerbell features had just put her through another harrowing test, then shared devastating news.

  “The nodules are still present. You have a choice to make, Mrs. Matthews.”

  She glanced at Dr. Lilly’s shiny sports car, and thought of her mother. It’s really too late to pursue your ridiculous childhood dream.

  Not true. It couldn’t be true.

  She put the car in reverse, noting from the in-dash clock that she’d lost the entire morning and most of the lunch hour, her stomach was so empty she felt nauseated.

  As usual, there was no time for her to absorb, to contemplate what was happening in her life. Before she picked up Ben—Amber’s mom was picking up Rachel—she absolutely must go to the grocery store. Her pantry, freezer, and fridge were practically empty.

  The throb in her temple became a skull-encompassing pulse. With every heartbeat it seemed a sadistic, pickax-wielding miner was hacking his way through the top of her head. Her only option for food was a smoothie, so she drove back through the McDonald’s drive-thru. Sipped as she made her way to the grocery store.

  She loaded her cart through the produce and dairy sections, walked through the paper products aisle and stocked up. In the canned goods aisle, she stopped to ponder the tomatoes, and couldn’t for the life of her choose between whole or diced. She grabbed both and continued on.

  She searched in the pharmacy section for liquid pain reliever for her headache, and after finally locating a bottle almost knelt right there in the aisle to cry.

  Rick in Angelina’s arms. Every corner she turned she relived rounding the tack room doorway and seeing them together. What hurt worse,
though, was hearing their conversation right before she walked in. Seeing her husband extend to Angelina the kindness, concern, and gentleness he’d withheld from Julie since she’d gotten back her voice.

  With one hand holding in place the contents of her loaded cart, Julie pushed to the checkout line. Fifteen minutes later her trunk was full, and she sat in the driver’s seat, picking at the tamper-proof cellophane on the medicine bottle.

  “Fine. I’ll tear it with my teeth.”

  But she couldn’t. Her jaw was still wired shut.

  Tears stung her eyes as she tossed the bottle onto the seat and drove to Ben’s day camp. She pulled into the parking lot and her cell vibrated in her purse.

  “Hello.”

  “Julie. It’s Cherise. Thank heaven I got you. Did you pick up Ben yet?”

  “I’m about to go in and sign him out.”

  Don’t ask me for anything. Please, not today.

  “Wonderful! My car’s been in the shop all day. I’ve been sitting here for hours, and they just told me they won’t finish it today. They’re getting me a rental, but it won’t be here for another hour or two. Can you drop Bradley at home? His older sister’s there.”

  “Sure. Um, hang on, I’ll let you talk to whoever’s at the check out desk.”

  She collected Ben and Bradley. They slid into the back seat and she got a strong whiff of them. Soggy socks and little boy sweat, in a soured and fermented kind of way. She used her driver’s door controls to crack the rear windows, then cranked the air up a notch.

  “I told Christopher he can’t be on our team anymore,” Bradley said after they’d driven a ways.

  “How come?” Ben asked.

  Julie turned the AC back down and glanced in the rearview mirror. Christopher was Ben’s other best friend.

  “Because he’s stupid.”

  “He is?”

  “Yeah. I knew he wasn’t any good at soccer. But basketball week is next week and he’s the shortest one in our group. So I don’t want him on my team.”

  “But how does being short make him stupid?”

  “Because. If you can’t play basketball you’re stupid.”

  “I’m not very good at basketball. And I thought Christopher was our friend.”

  “Then you’re stupid, too,” Bradley said as they pulled into his driveway.

  What?

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. So I don’t want you on my team either.”

  Bradley scooted out and darted into his house. Julie couldn’t address this with Cherise and Bradley now, Cherise wasn’t even home. And the ice cream and frozen vegetables were no doubt melting in the trunk.

  Pulling back onto the street, Julie turned toward home.

  “I don’t want you to play with or spend time with Bradley for a while.” She blinked, struggling to keep her eyes focused and on the road amidst the building migraine.

  “But he’s my friend.”

  “Not if he calls you stupid.” Heavens, were all of her children walking victims, walking targets? What was happening to Sean at Basic Training?

  In the rearview mirror, she saw Ben squirm. “Well, I’m not too good at basketball. I do mess up sometimes when I dribble. Bradley never messes up. So he’s smart, right?”

  “That’s not what smart means.”

  “If I can’t be friends with Bradley, then I can’t be on his team. Mom, his team always wins.”

  “Winning isn’t everything. And Bradley is not being your friend when he calls you stupid or treats you like he thinks you’re stupid.”

  Ben leaned forward, straining against his seat belt. “He’s not?”

  “No,” she stuttered. “You are not stupid. When we get home I need help putting away groceries.”

  “Okay.”

  She drove past familiar pastures and turned onto their street. Hit a pothole and the miner digging through her head buried his ax in her skull. She had a wonderful moment of numbness, then jolted as the pain raised to a level she hadn’t known previously existed.

  “But I’m not smart either,” Ben said.

  Where were these ideas coming from? Definitely, no more Bradley.

  “Of course you’re smart. You’re smart about taking care of horses and all kinds of things.”

  “Then that means Dad’s smart, too, right?”

  “Yes ...” She raised a hand to her face, certain it was splitting down the center. “He’s the one who taught you about taking care of horses.”

  “But you’re not Daddy’s friend.”

  She parked in their garage and turned around to look at his sweet face. She could see his little mind working, adding two and two, but coming up with five?

  “What do you mean I’m not Daddy’s friend?”

  He looked at her with Rick’s hazel eyes, round, and innocent, and fringed with enviably thick lashes.

  “You talk to Daddy like he’s stupid.”

  What?

  “I guess it means something different if you’re a girl.” He shrugged. “Can I line up the cans in the cabinet any way I want?”

  What did he—

  “Sure. I don’t care how you arrange them.”

  She popped the trunk. As she stood, the world tilted about twenty degrees, forcing her to hold onto the door while she blinked against spots appearing in her vision. An upset Ben was the last thing she needed.

  “You think you can handle this, buddy? I need to go talk to Daddy.”

  Ben gave a salute. “I’m on it, Mom.”

  Which meant her youngest couldn’t possibly think of her the way Rachel did, right?

  Dialing Rick’s cell, she walked carefully to the stables, each step precisely placed to avoid jarring.

  Or falling over.

  Or vomiting.

  “Where are you?” she asked when he answered.

  “I’m home. Where are you?”

  “I’m almost to the tack room. Again I ask, where are you?”

  “I’m getting off the tractor about a hundred feet from you. What’s the emergency?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get here.” She ended the call.

  What had been her space was now taken by a foldout cot. Her desk had been moved into the corner, with barely enough room between it and the counter behind for her to slip into the seat.

  “What’s wrong?” Rick asked as he walked into the room. He stopped.

  He didn’t say anything else. Or move toward her. He didn’t even ask about her appointment.

  He doesn’t care. If she lived on constant voice rest—one of two awful options she’d been given today—he’d probably be happy, as long as she continued being a workhorse for their family.

  And Rachel. Rachel would be glad Julie didn’t talk at home.

  But if she didn’t talk, she’d never figure out what Ben had gotten all mixed up in his head.

  Rick looked from Julie to the computer and back again. “You’re at the computer.”

  “Of course, I’m at the computer. That’s what I do. I input data and pay bills and check emails.”

  Rick paled. “Sean’s doing exactly what he should at Basic. I haven’t written him back yet, because I need the right words.”

  “You heard from him? He emailed you?”

  “Julie, don’t.”

  She grabbed the mouse. Clicked. Clicked.

  And read.

  She stood slowly. She’d thought nothing of Rachel’s journal entry about Sean’s comment No drill sergeant has anything on Mom. Basic will be a piece of cake.

  But now ...

  Her composure snapped. She felt it and her headache explode like fireworks. Adrenaline surged through her.

  “After all I’ve done for this family. Supporting you and your dream about the stables. Waiting for my turn. Somehow our children think I’m the bad guy and you’re the good guy!”

  Rick said nothing.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m wrong? Like you did this morning when I caught you in another woman’s arms?”
<
br />   “That’s not what happened and you know it,” his voice shook as it rose.

  “I’ve seen the way Angelina looks at you.” Her head and jaw might actually shatter from the pain. “I’ve heard the way she talks to you. Do you think I’m blind and stupid? Is that what all this stuff with the kids is? Some plan to get rid of me, so you can trade up?”

  “I have never considered trading up. You’re the one who always had your eye on something outside this family. I knew you always wished you’d gone to New York, that I was your consolation prize. Your second choice.”

  “How dare you say that to me.”

  She shook, Dr. Lilly’s words ringing in her head. You have a choice to make, Mrs. Matthews. You can talk, normally, like the rest of us, as you live with your family every day. Or, if you still want to sing as a professional, you will pretty much have to live on permanent voice rest. But you will never again be able to do both.

  Being Rick’s wife, building a family with him, she hadn’t simply postponed her career. Maybe, without knowing, she’d sabotaged it.

  “I’ve sacrificed everything for you and our family. I’ve given everything.”

  He stepped closer, pointed at her. “You know what? Sean’s grown and gone, so we’ll both have to clean up our own messes with him later. I guess Ben’s always been exempt because of his medical issues. But I won’t let you target Rachel anymore.”

  “Fine.” She wiped her face and sniffed back tears. “I think we’ve said all there is to say.”

  Julie fled the tack room. Rounded the corner between the stalls and a fenced corral as Angelina parked between the barn and Julie’s home. The other woman hopped out of her car.

  “Julie. Please. I need to apologize for what you saw this morning.”

  She didn’t stop. Just keep walking. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

  “You have to give me a chance to explain.”

  But she couldn’t. She didn’t. She ran across the long stretch of land to her home. Winded, gasping through her bound teeth, she went straight to her room. With a quivering hand on her throat, she laid down.

  Voice rest was the only option to reach her dream.

  Voice rest was the only option to stop her husband and her children from misinterpreting everything she said.