In the family room an early morning blush lanced through the partially closed blinds, highlighting the embarrassing dust on her old friend. With the song playing a continuous loop in her head, she quickly polished the surface of her Baby Grand, then raised the keyboard cover and folded the felt.
She sat, flexed her fingers. Softly pressed the first chord and closed her eyes.
Gratefulness swelled inside. At the discoveries, the benefits, the rich reward despite the pain of learning the truth about herself. Her heart ached with it.
And as far as her future, as a singer or not, only God who loved unconditionally could teach her how to love without conditions. No matter what she gained or lost, no matter what dreams she attained or joys she never experienced.
I want to be close to You, Lord. I want to know I’m close to You, and I’m learning how to love my family.
All the times as a child she’d dreamed of flying up to heaven and singing to God ...
You don’t have to travel to meet Me. I’m right here. With you.
She felt Him smile at her, like in her dreams or when she sang in church. Before, she’d believed He smiled at her with love and approval because of the song, or her voice, or because she was singing about Him or to Him.
She realized now she’d been mistaken. He’d smiled at her because He simply loved her and wanted to be close to her as well. With or without a song, with and without a voice.
God loved Julie. The joy she sensed in Him when she approached wasn’t about her offering, but about her.
And wasn’t that what she’d started feeling yesterday afternoon toward her own children, when she’d sat in the kitchen and simply experienced the joy of having them near? Then last night with Rachel, knowing her daughter was close and safe, and for once, happy to be in her company.
Julie folded her hands in her lap and sat in the quiet of the morning, in God’s presence.
Take all of me, she prayed. Change all of me.
Apologizing to her family wasn’t enough. Stopping saying the wrong things wasn’t enough. She wanted to say the right things. To rebuild everything she’d torn down.
“Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,” she’d read.
She wanted her words to her family to come from a pure heart, rather than bitterness and anger. To come from His work in her rather than hurt she carried and frustration she’d hidden inside.
What she really wanted, was for God to give her the words to speak to her family—and anoint her words with His Spirit—as she’d always hoped He would her voice.
Change what’s inside me. Change everything inside of me.
Joy took root. She could almost feel it sinking into the soil of her spirit, spreading, growing, pulsing through her and up.
A smile exploded on her face. So big, so wide her cheeks hurt. She threw her arms heavenward and wept and laughed, as the awful burden of trying to reach, trying to earn God’s love vanished.
And she knew, with that burden gone, God could now fill her heart with all the wonderful things that should come out of her mouth.
***
When Rick had rolled over that morning he was surprised to find Julie’s eyes open. When he left their bathroom after his shower and she was no longer in their bed, he was shocked. But finding her at the piano just after dawn with her hands raised, her face lit with a smile, well, that left him dumbfounded.
He wasn’t sure what to do. Standing in the hall of his own home, he felt almost an intruder on what was obviously a very personal time between her and God.
He’d seen that expression before, every time she sang in church. But only when she was performing. He had no idea she could look that way, feel that way, have that kind of joyful experience on her own right there in their home.
She hadn’t been singing, he’d have heard her. Besides, her jaw mobility was still severely limited. She couldn’t open wide enough to sing.
Her face. How he loved her face, made even more beautiful with the free and overjoyed expression. How he wished he could keep this Julie forever.
She must have sensed him standing there. He saw the moment she became aware of herself, then blinked and focused on her surroundings.
Their eyes met. He felt the same jolt he’d experienced the first time he’d asked her on a date. She smiled at him, and his heart tumbled forward in his chest, landing right on the ground between them.
He loved her. He’d always known he loved her. But he hadn’t expected to fall in love with her again after so many years, so many hurts, so many areas of separation between them.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
She looked almost shy. Almost uncertain. And younger. And happy.
“I woke with a song in my head.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That hasn’t happened for a long while. Lyrics, too?”
“Just a melody.” Her smile opened and filled with wonder. “A pretty one. I think I’ll hear it in my head all day.”
“Good for you.”
He shouldn’t be this unsettled. True, he was usually a man of few words, partly because that was his personality, partly because for the last eight years he seldom got a word in edgewise. Was he supposed to change that? Was that what he was supposed to learn first?
To say a little more. Connect a little more than was his habit.
She looked so at peace there, so at home at her piano in their home.
Her domain, he thought with sudden clarity. Rick felt his eyes narrow at the thought, at her.
She’d run the house, run him, and he’d begun to associate being home with being controlled or bruised. Which was why he hadn’t wanted to come home yesterday. Why he’d beelined for his work the horses, the barn. He knew what he was doing in the stables. There he was the expert. The boss.
The leader. He closed his eyes, fighting off pangs of guilt.
She rose from the piano bench. “Hey. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He avoided her gaze and proceeded to the kitchen.
He switched on lights, got out his favorite skillet, and turned on a burner. In five minutes, three if he pushed it, he could be out the door with a fried egg sandwich in hand. He set butter to sizzle, broke eggs over the pan.
“Still lots to do to catch up from yesterday. Send Rachel down as soon as she eats. I think I’ll keep her with me until supper.”
She’d followed him in, but stopped on the other side of the bar.
“You know, I could start cooking your breakfast in the mornings again,” she said. “Our whole routine got disrupted from my injuries. But my arm’s healed now and I don’t need extra rest anymore to recuperate or sleep off the effects of pain medication.”
He popped down toast, flipped the eggs, and laid a paper towel on the counter. He grabbed mustard from the fridge and was reaching for the tea when he felt her touch his shoulder.
“Rick.” She looked up at him with those pretty green eyes as he turned with pitcher in hand.
She shouldn’t have this kind of power over him. To make him feel so vulnerable. To tie his tongue in knots. To make him want to die for her if she asked.
To make him forget what he was doing and burn his stupid eggs.
He grabbed the pan just in time, snatched the toast, slid eggs to bread on the paper towel and squirted mustard. He hadn’t realized she’d taken the pitcher from him until he heard her filling a glass.
And saw her filling a thermos. She hadn’t done that in many years.
“If you take this with you, you won’t have to come back to the house for more tea.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I don’t want you to come back. But I know how much work you have to do and, I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?”
She looked at the floor. “Me trying to be Nancy Nurturer is overkill. I just ... Rick, where are we?”
“Did you fix me an egg sandwich, Daddy?” Rachel’s arrival was a welcome distraction.
Ben wandered in behind his
sister, wiping his eyes, his hair sticking up on one side. “I like egg sandwiches, too. Extra mustard just like Dad. Can I have two? I’m starving.”
“I can make them.” Julie reached for the bread. “If you need to go and get started.”
“Stay, Daddy,” Ben said. “I hardly ever get to eat breakfast with you anymore. You’re always already in the barn.”
“Okay, buddy. Think I need a second sandwich today, too.” He lowered his voice to Julie. “Skillet’s still hot. I’ll do the eggs, you do the toast?”
She seemed to look clear to his soul. “Teamwork’s kind of new to you and me. Think we can manage?”
“Maybe we start small. You know, today egg sandwiches. Tomorrow, who knows?” It seemed a stupid thing to say, but her face lit with affirmation.
He felt like a king as he cooked for his children. A beloved father as Rachel scooted her chair closer to his at the table, as Ben matched him bite for bite and chew for chew on both sandwiches.
He watched his wife stand at the stove, cooking her oatmeal, as Rachel and Ben made pretend bets over when Godiva would deliver her foals. Julie glanced over her shoulder at him. He winked at her, she winked back, then gave the same shy, uncertain smile she had earlier when he’d found her at the piano.
Will you accept me? her eyes seemed to ask. Do you love me?
Love you, she mouthed.
Maybe love that took you to your knees and made you feel powerless wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe when a husband and wife loved that way, it made their marriage strong. Maybe a love like that made you cling to each other and never let go.
And maybe, just maybe, it helped you hang in there when you’d both made crazy mistakes. When you realized you still had so much to learn.
“Tomorrow, your mom and I will make French toast.”
Rick winked again at his wife.
***
Despite her special private prayer time this morning, despite the tenuous reconnection she hoped she’d made with Rick, and even considering her one, positive apology experience last night with Rachel, Julie could not get a foothold on how to apologize to Ben.
She pulled out of their driveway. The stage was nicely set—ample time during the drive to day camp, and he was right there beside her in the front seat. But confession seemed an easy out. Atonement, that’s what was needed.
To her seven-year-old.
She wanted to. She did. But knowing she’d kind of trampled his innocence was distressing beyond words. Somehow in her mind Ben had been separate from his siblings. He was her baby. Her special-needs child. She’d had to think differently about him since his birth, which had been frustrating, but she’d never been frustrated with him.
She looked over at his bobbing feet, his untied left shoe, his already half-smashed lunch bag between them on the seat. He was systematically pressing the search button on the radio hoping to find a favorite song.
No, she was never frustrated with him, even when he couldn’t settle on a radio station for more than two seconds.
Still he’d picked up on her less-than-shining moments, on the disapproval and animosity she’d displayed to Rachel, to Sean, to Rick. She’d thought him to be unaffected by her unhappiness. Perhaps, and this saddened her, he was the most affected of all.
She turned the corner by Ben’s favorite cow pasture.
“Yoda cow!” Ben pointed. “That’s both days this week. Ugly I am, yes, hmm?” Ben did his best Star Wars character impersonation.
“You have a trip today, buddy?”
“No. They start tomorrow.”
“How come they’re back-to-back like that? Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.”
“Mrs. Teeger says it’s because the county would only let us use the buses this week. They’re all being serviced over the summer. But Mr. Whitney says we have to fit them in really fast before the end of the month. Something about points and grant money from the state.”
“Oh.”
“They’re both wrong,” he said. “Mrs. Shipman knows the real scoop. Coach Doddard has to go as a chaperone to meet the student-teacher ratio. But his wife’s about to have a baby. Mrs. Shipman says she could pop at any minute. And even though he’s the dad he’s going on maternity leave after this week.”
“So if you guys are going to take any trips, you have to take them before Coach Doddard starts his leave.”
“Yep.”
“How do you know all this?”
He pointed to his hearing aid. “I hear stuff.”
If only she could erase some of what he’d heard her say.
“You’re sure there’s no trip today?”
“No trip.” Ben slumped forward, resting his chin in his hand.
“Do you even want to go to day camp today?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could just stay home with you and Daddy. Other times I’m afraid of what I’ll miss if I don’t go.”
“Two choices and neither one looks perfect, huh?”
“Yeah.”
She wished she could truthfully tell him life wouldn’t always be that way.
“Tell me. If you could pick anything to do today, what would it be?”
“Like go to the moon?”
She chuckled. “No, something real. Today. In our town or at home.”
“Anything?” The word stretched with possibilities and wonder. “Go to the Army/Navy store way far outside town.”
She looked at him. “Really?” She’d never have guessed that.
“I miss Sean.”
Her heart cracked. She actually felt it split for her little one whose world was missing one of its most special people.
“Me, too.”
Sean wasn’t even halfway through his Basic Training. She’d have to wait another month and a half to apologize in person, then she’d be talking to a young soldier. How would she prove to Sean she was changing?
“You know, when he finishes Basic Training we’ll go to his graduation.”
Ben’s eyes flashed. “Really? Can I wear camo? And a soldier’s cap? And paint my face?”
“I think we can do the camo and the cap.” She checked the country road in all directions and pulled off beside the pasture. “You want to go to the Army/Navy store and buy some BDUs?”
“Now? Can we get the same kind as Sean?”
She nodded, and couldn’t help reaching to brush his wayward bangs. “How about a haircut. Want to try a buzz?”
“Yes! Yes!” He was vibrating with excitement.
“Before we go.” Julie swallowed back guilt, shame, and pride. “I want to tell you I’m sorry for all the times you heard unkind words from me to your sister, brother, and dad.”
“Okay.”
“I feel really bad about how I’ve behaved. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”
“Like a mistake.”
“Yeah. Lots of mistakes.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay, Mom. I make mistakes all the time. The first week at day camp, I accidentally walked into the girls’ bathroom. They all screamed.”
She bit her lip. “You didn’t tell me about it.”
“I was too embarrassed. Do you ever get embarrassed?”
“All the time,” she laughed.
“Then we match,” he said.
“Yeah, buddy. We match.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
He wanted her with him—Julie, his wife.
The longing had approached steadily, as a horse traveling a great distance. Closer and closer, stronger and stronger it became, beating as hoofs in Rick’s chest. The knowledge brought perplexity and comfort.
He knew she’d planned to drop Ben, then run some errands. He knew those plans had changed. She’d called him to let him know she was keeping Ben with her today, and they’d planned a detour. He even knew when she’d return, bringing lunch.
Now, as he and Rachel left the barn driving another tractor load of horse manure to the farthest compost pile, he glanced at his daughter, sitting beside him on the front seat,
for what must have been the hundredth time.
“About this time yesterday we were notified of the fire.” Rick spoke around the lump in his throat.
Rachel hooked her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder; it bounced as the tractor passed over a rut. “Were you scared, Daddy?”
“A little. Had to fight not to be.” He hadn’t let himself consider the worst possibility.
“I wasn’t. I knew you’d come get me.”
Truer words.
“How long did you stay at the school?” she asked.
“A while.”
“What did you do?”
He knew she’d ask. Part of him had wanted to tell her. But he hadn’t even told Julie about talking with Daniel. Why was talking about God, about faith, so hard?
“I talked with Pastor Crane for a while. You know, Pierce’s dad.”
“Mom’s been talking to Laurie a lot. Did you know that?”
“She told me.”
They stopped at a gate. Rachel hopped down and opened it, pushed it closed after he passed through. She climbed back up beside him.
“Mom apologized to me last night. For stuff she’s said, for hurting me. I never thought I’d see the day.” Rachel rolled her eyes and Rick stifled a chuckle. “She said you’re trying to forgive her.”
“She’s not the only one who’s done stuff wrong in this family.”
“I think she’s been more wrong than you.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe she’s just been wrong in a different way, in a way you could see. I’ve got some changing to do myself. Still trying to wrap my head around it.”
“So you’re not getting a divorce or anything.”
“Rachel. That was never an option.”
“No way I could know that after hearing you fight, then not speak to each other for days. Looked to me like neither of you cared about being around the other, so what’s the difference if you divorced or already live as if you were? How was I supposed to know if you even loved each other anymore?”
“You’ve got a point.”
Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series) Page 26