“Seeing the fire here, we would’ve stopped anyway,” Rick said.
“I figured as much. I need to ask you to go to the high school, now. Proceed with caution, folks!” Daniel called out to all.
“That’s where the evacuated students are,” he said to Rick.
Many folks hurried to their cars. The road filled with vehicles.
“I’m heading to the high school myself,” Daniel said. “They want me there. The hospital’s already got a chaplain on site for parents whose kids were injured.”
“Not everyone got out, did they?” Julie spoke through the dread churning its way up her throat.
Daniel looked at her and grasped her shoulders. “There was at least one fatality, a school employee, and several students have been taken to the hospital. Families are being notified first. Which is why you need to go to the school.”
“We’ll meet you there.” Rick pulled his keys from his pocket, then looked at her. They got in the truck. A kind person let Rick out into the traffic line.
“She’s okay,” Rick said. “I’m sure she’s okay.”
As her mother, she’d feel it if Rachel were dead, wouldn’t she?
Dear God, don’t let her be dead. What will I do if she’s dead?
The more important question is, what will you do if she’s not?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The snail’s pace was driving Rick crazy.
They were stopped dead center—what an awful phrase—in front of the school. The flames finally seemed to be under control, or rather they’d mostly burned out. Rick knew from the way the building had caved in, even the first floor was a disastrous mess.
“Why?” Beside him, Julie whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me how I was hurting our children? Hurting you? How could you let me do all this damage?” She pointed to the destroyed school. “That kind of damage.”
Someone behind him beeped, prodding them forward a whole fifteen feet.
“I knew you were exhausted and overwhelmed with Ben’s condition. Then I thought it was just a phase.” He grabbed her hand. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I.” She squeezed. “I just need to know. Did you tell me and I didn’t listen? Was I really that self-absorbed?”
Rick took his foot off the brake, let the truck roll forward several yards, then stopped again.
“I guess I felt guilty,” he said, and realized it was true. “We’d agreed to stop having children. The picnic that day was my idea.”
“Neither of us knew the antibiotics could counteract my birth control pills.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t think twice about your dream being delayed again. I just chalked it up to another baby and called him a bonus. Then when he had such extensive medical needs, I let you carry most of the burden. I was wrong.”
They inched forward again.
“I love Ben,” Julie said. “I do.”
“I know you do,” he said. “That was never in question to me. I just ... I thought you blamed me for getting pregnant, for him taking over your life. I knew you weren’t happy and I kept thinking, why am I not enough for her? Why isn’t my love enough?”
“Oh, Rick. No.”
“Wait. I’m not finished.”
He reached the high school, followed a policeman’s directions to park near the auditorium where Sean’s graduation ceremony had taken place just weeks ago.
“I guess I kind of just took it, you know? Like some kind of stupid penance for putting you in that situation. So part of me felt like I deserved it, and another part didn’t know how to argue with the facts of your life. The best idea I had was to handle Sean’s and Rachel’s needs, so you didn’t have to. And when how you treated me wore on me, I didn’t know what to say. Can you understand that?”
Tears fell from her eyes. “Yes. I understand that.”
He pulled into a space, then made himself look at her. His eyes watered.
“I still don’t know what to say,” he said. “To myself, to you, to my children. I just hope God gives me the opportunity to hold my daughter one more time. Let’s go.”
They followed the throng lining up outside the auditorium. They were given instructions, printed information, then, like a miracle, Rachel was brought out to them. They embraced her, sandwiching her between them. Rick kissed his daughter’s hair.
“Mr. Larl died,” Rachel said as they walked to the truck.
Rick stopped. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. The alarms sounded and he was running through the building, going room to room to get everyone out. He went back in, and was found by the firemen right after they arrived. They think he had a heart attack or maybe it was smoke inhalation.”
“How do you know that? We couldn’t find out anything.”
“Britney’s in my class, remember? A policeman took her to the hospital to be with her mom. When they were leaving I told her I was sorry for her loss.”
Rick hugged her and kissed her again, then unlocked the truck.
And suddenly Rick’s heart began pounding. Different than it had before every high school football game. Different than before his wedding. Different even than when he’d watched Tempo take off with Julie, or later when he’d searched for his wife, not knowing if she were dead or alive.
He knew there were crossroads in every life. Times when a fork in the path offered two choices and both were scary. Surrounded by shouts of laughter and joyous reunions across the parking lot, his heart focused on one option: talking to Daniel.
Sweat broke out on his hands. He checked his watch and handed Julie the keys.
“Take Rachel to pick up Ben and go home. He’s already stayed an hour later than usual. I need to talk to Daniel.”
“What? I’d rather wait for you.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he said. “They might, I don’t know, need help or something.” His heartbeat kicked up another notch like a goaded horse. “Go on.”
He kissed Rachel’s forehead one more time, then she climbed into the front seat.
“I don’t want to go without you.” Julie bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about sorry, Julie. I’ll call you soon.”
He watched them drive away, then marched back to the auditorium. He found Daniel talking with a single mother Rick recognized as a familiar face from The Barn Church. She had her arm around the waist of a teenage boy twice her size. The kid had been crying and was clearly embarrassed. Daniel offered them both gum. The kid smiled and accepted a piece, then he and his mother walked away.
Rick cleared his throat. He’d never been so nervous in his life. When you’re young you don’t realize how important some decisions are, but when you’re older ...
“Daniel. Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.” Daniel walked toward him.
Ooh, it stung to be this close to asking for help, to letting one of the few people who’d known him since he was a kid see his faults. Mr. Calm and Patient, his pride was about to get a much-needed whipping.
Daniel tucked his Bible under his arm, a gesture Rick knew was second nature to the man, just like his tendency to offer gum to all around him. “I think they want to close up here. Maybe you could walk with me to my car.”
Rick glanced around. Sure enough, he and Daniel were the only two left except for the janitor now sweeping the floor. “Good idea.”
They emerged into the hot sunlight and traversed the mostly empty lot.
“Want some gum?”
Rick smiled. “No, thanks.”
They stopped by Daniel’s sedan. Rick spied a bright pink car seat in the back.
“How’s the Grandpa thing going?”
“You know I love it. Can’t get enough of my little Hope.”
“And you’re not proud.”
“Not in the least. She’s going to be a pistol, though. Knows just what she wants. Like her grandpa.”
He gave Rick a pointed look Rick supposed came in handy as a preacher, a fat
her, and grandfather.
“Well, I could ease in and say something like: your family’s been through a lot the last couple of months. Or I could call ’em like I see ’em. Since you deal with horses I’ll say, son, you look like you been rode hard and put up wet.”
“That’s about right.” Rick grimaced.
“Spit it out, boy. Chewing cud’s for cows and goats.”
“You ever have God show you something about yourself, something you don’t like, something you’ve done wrong, then kind of sit on you about it?”
Daniel belly-laughed. Rick had heard that laugh before, many times in church when Daniel told a joke during a sermon and got so tickled he’d pause and wipe his face with a handkerchief.
“More times than I can count.”
Rick felt the ghost of a smile fight its way to the edge of his lips. “I’m guessing it’s not that big of a deal?”
“On the contrary.” Daniel slung an arm around Rick’s shoulder in a quick hug. “It’s a huge deal. And it means you’re right where you need to be.”
He told Daniel details about Julie’s accident and what it meant for her dream. Pushing through a wave of embarrassment, he confided about the condition of his marriage, and the brief respite from the tension he’d experienced when Julie let him take care of her.
“I’ve had this feeling since she got her voice back.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I want more. I want different. I see I was a huge part of the problem. Letting the kids believe Julie was the bad guy gave me a false perspective of her and myself.”
Rick caught the stinging scent of the fire carried on a slight breeze. One wrong decision, one wrong move by anyone, and his daughter might not be safe right now.
His voice broke. “I want to lead my family, but I realize I never learned how to do it right.”
“Kind of like your wife, huh? I remember when Ben surprised you all, I dedicated him, if you remember.”
“I do.”
Rick remembered standing in The Barn Church, Julie holding the apnea monitor with its dangling wires, attached to a soft belt around Ben’s tiny chest, beneath his white suit.
Daniel leaned against his car and shrugged. “Julie didn’t know how to handle the pressure and her disappointment, and you didn’t know how to lead. So now you’ll learn. God’s got ya right where you need to be.”
“It can’t be that simple,” Rick said. “Just learn?”
“I didn’t say it was simple. I said you’re in the right place, looking at yourself, your responsibilities. You’re humbled and willing to change, because deep down you love God and your family.”
“Your daughter-in-law told Julie about a particular scripture, God speaking in a low whisper. That’s not what’s happening to me. It’s like He’s standing inside my head banging on my skull with a hammer.”
“I’ve had sawdust fly out of my ears a time or two myself. Listen, Rick. Don’t compare yourself to Julie or anyone else. You establish your own face-to-face relationship with God. You pay attention, and you obey. Just take the next right step and you’ll end up doing the right things.”
“Will I feel better? Will I get some relief?” He’d never felt this ashamed or guilty in his life.
Daniel chuckled. “You know, my son—your new pastor—wanted relief from some profound discomfort about this time last year. Can’t say he got quick relief, but in the end he felt better having done what God wanted him to do.”
“Talking to you wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be. Give me a ride home?”
Daniel smacked his gum and grinned. “Sure thing, boy. Hop in. Retired preachers like me love captive audiences.”
“Just use a little hammer and be gentle. Please.”
***
“Mom. I need the window open.” Rachel pushed the button on her door.
“Do you, um, want me to lower mine, too?” Julie asked as she drove to pick up Ben.
“No.” She put her arm out the window, let her hand ride the wind. “I think I just want to feel clean air on my face. The smoky smell on my skin and clothes is kind of making me sick.”
When she picked up Ben, he was full of questions. How big was the fire? Did they see fire trucks? Would they be the same fire trucks he’d get to see later that week on his field trip?
Julie answered as many as she dared, as many as she could wading through the aftermath of fear. She caught herself glancing repeatedly at Rachel, much as she’d done at Ben when he was an infant, constantly making sure the child wasn’t choking and was breathing. The first year of her son’s life, that was all she’d done—made sure Ben was still breathing.
She wanted to reach over. Hold her daughter’s hand and say how thankful she was Rachel’s life had been spared. But would Rachel welcome her touch?
“My backpack’s still at the school. Everybody was told to leave their stuff. I wonder if it’s soaked. If it’s ruined.”
“We can, um, we can buy another backpack.” Julie nodded.
“There’s no school tomorrow, is there? Like, I won’t have to go tomorrow?”
“I’m sure classes will be postponed for a few days at least. And they’ll be continued somewhere else.”
Her voice didn’t quite feel her own. Or maybe it was the words she was using, the tone of them, the content. When was the last time she’d talked with Rachel instead of to her? When was the last time they’d just ... talked?
When was the last time Julie had simply listened?
“If my laptop’s ruined a new one’ll be a lot of money.” Rachel’s voice softened. “Do I have to earn it?”
Julie barely heard the question, as Rachel’s face was turned toward the window. Her arm bobbed against the air in a carefree gesture, a total contradiction to the meaning of her inquiry. Earn. The child thought Julie was keeping track of dollars spent on her, and she’d have to pay to replace something even if losing it wasn’t her fault.
“No. You won’t have to earn it.”
During Julie’s childhood, her mother had indeed noted every dollar and penny. And used them to heap guilt on Julie for every need, every want, every dream. To bargain for affection.
Dear God, help me undo the damage I’ve done to my relationship with my daughter. Help me show my complete, unconditional love for her, in a way she understands and can receive.
“I want a really long shower,” Rachel said as Julie parked in the garage.
“You want to use my big tub, take a bubble bath?”
“What about my hair? I can’t really wash it in the tub.”
“Soak for a while, then use my shower.”
“Really?”
Julie nodded. “Really.”
“Do you remember when I was little, you’d let me turn on the jets and pretend I was a turtle swimming in the ocean?”
“I remember.”
“Then I grew too big to play like that.”
No, then Ben came and I forgot you were still a little girl inside, Julie thought.
“Lock the door so Daddy doesn’t come home and accidentally walk in on you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “That would be so-o-o embarrassing.”
They walked inside and her cell phone rang.
“Go ahead,” Julie said. “This is probably your dad.” Rachel proceeded to Julie’s room while Julie answered her cell.
“Hello.”
“When were you going to call me?” Her mother’s voice speared through the earpiece. “For heaven’s sake, I was at the salon getting a mani-pedi, and there on the television was a live feed from Rachel’s middle school as the whole place burned down.
“My nails were wet—I couldn’t even call you—and you didn’t have the decency to call me and leave a message telling me if she’s okay. I was stuck there, waiting and listening to the news along with everyone else not knowing if my only granddaughter was dead or alive. Well?”
“Mom, we just got home. It was quite an ordeal.”
“I’ll say! But you could have called.
You’ve obviously got your voice back; you answered the phone. Is it because I never mailed you a picture of your father? That’s it. You were punishing me, letting me wonder and suffer—”
“No, I was not.” Julie sighed as Ben turned on the television and started flipping channels.
“You forgot about me! Calling me didn’t even occur to you.” Her voice went small and whiny. “Did it?”
“Honestly, no.”
Relief surged through Julie at admitting the truth. She sat at the bar and felt herself smile.
“My only concern was Rachel.”
“So she’s all right, I guess. Worried myself sick and aged five years for nothing.”
“She’s taking a bath and washing her hair. I can tell her you called.”
“I’ll send her something. Surprise her. I saw some sexy sunglasses at the mall earlier.”
“Rachel is fourteen. She doesn’t need to worry about being sexy.”
“I know. I know. Oh, I’ll just get her a fabulous product my stylist swears by, you know, for taming wild hair like yours. Rachel must get awfully frustrated dealing with that mane all the time. You sure did.”
Because according to her mother, nothing Julie had done with her hair had been right. If she let her hair grow, it was too long and too big and required too much upkeep. If she cut it short, she looked like a topiary. There was no pleasing her mother.
“ ... just one more thing you got from your dad,” her mother continued. “He had thick wavy hair.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Julie whispered.
“I’ll send you a picture and you can see for yourself. You got nothing from me. Absolutely nothing.”
That’s what you think.
“Mom,” Julie said, as her body clenched with grief.
Maybe she shouldn’t try to hide her feelings like she’d had to as a child. Maybe she should just let them be what they were.
“Did you like Dad’s hair?”
“Well, of course I did. What a ridiculous question. I loved everything about Big Joe Pitts and I miss him everyday. You don’t know what I’ve been through. Don’t know how I’ve mourned.”
Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series) Page 24