He hadn’t realized they were giving that impression, or that Rachel was watching them so closely.
“I haven’t been a good example of a husband and father. The boys, well, I’m gonna talk to the boys. But I worry most about you. You’ll marry one day. I should be showing you what to look for in a man, in a husband. I haven’t done a good job of that.”
“He’ll have to love horses, I know that much.”
“Yeah. If he wants to snag you he’ll have to love horses.”
“I’m glad you and Mom are giving each other another chance. If I ever do something really bad one day, will you give me another chance?”
“Of course.”
Rick steered around an outcropping of trees, up and down a small hill, then stopped beside the compost pile. Together they unloaded the manure by shovelfuls, tossing it onto the pile.
“This really smells bad. I’ll need to soak in Mom’s tub for an hour tonight to get the stink off. Think she’ll let me?”
“She let you last night.”
“Yeah. One time. Not enough to convince me she’s, like, changed permanently.”
Rick pitched manure and scooped up more. “Change sometimes comes in steps, don’t you think?”
His words echoed in his head later as they returned to the barn to find Julie and Ben waiting with sub sandwiches. They ate together in the tack room.
During the meal Ben rubbed his hand over his scalp and giggled. “Feel it, Daddy. Pet my head.”
Rick did.
“Daddy, did I do enough this morning?” Rachel asked as they finished the meal. “It’s so hot out there today.”
“You did enough.”
She looked right at him, then at her mother. “Mom, since Daddy says I’m finished for the day, can I soak in your tub again?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Rachel looked at him with wide eyes. “Daddy, can I really go now?”
“I suppose.”
“Come on, Ben.” She jumped up, gathering everyone’s trash and throwing it in the garbage can. “Race you to the house.”
Then he was alone with Julie, the only sound the quiet hum of the air conditioner. He’d chosen to turn off his country music during lunch to concentrate on conversation with his family. And he thought again about changes coming in steps.
“How’s your jaw feeling after chewing a sandwich?”
“I had to tear it into pretty small bites, still I’m a bit sore.”
“I bet.”
He wished he could turn back time. Relive their years together and do everything better, do everything right.
“Pull your chair over here,” he said. “Let me show you the massages and exercises Dr. Wyman wants you to do for strength and range of motion.”
She moved closer, faced him so her knees nestled between his. “We’ve done okay today, haven’t we?”
He took her face in his hands and gently massaged with the pads of his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment in concentration; he simply wasn’t a big talker.
Maybe if he told it like directions. Like steps. Like a process he planned to follow.
He opened his eyes. “You know Daniel gave me a ride home yesterday.”
“I figured.” She sighed. “Just so you know that feels wonderful.”
He grinned at her and sure enough, the Julie of their youth, the Julie he’d first fallen in love with, looked back at him with trust and appreciation. Courage thumped to life inside him.
“I talked to him a little. About us. About me. He gave me a lot to think about.”
“I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
“I’m not telling you to make you feel bad.” He continued kneading the sides of her face and jaw. “I owe you as many apologies as you owe me.”
She balked and he held a finger to her lips.
“You’re not the only one who’s got to grow and learn. But I don’t think we’re supposed to beat ourselves up over it anymore. I think we move forward.”
Even as he said it, he felt panic in his gut. To move forward in the right direction, he’d have to lead.
“Tell me what we should do,” she said.
“When I find out, I will. I think for now, we practice not hurting each other. We live carefully with each other. Kind of, give our hearts a break.”
She was nodding, her eyes filling with tears. And he’d run out of words. Just plumb run out and couldn’t string together another sentence if his life depended on it.
“Watch.”
He demonstrated, showing her how to gently, slowly insert the knuckle of her pinkie finger between her teeth and work her way up to larger fingers, then multiple fingers, to get back full mobility.
“The progress will come in steps.” He could see she understood he wasn’t only talking about her recovery.
“We should give it a rest now. Vet’ll be here in a minute to meet with me.”
She stilled his hands. “Rick? Why didn’t you tell me about Rachel having to go to summer school?”
He took a long breath and looked at her.
“Because of the way I’ve behaved before, you thought I’d blow up at her, at you?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled his hands away and rose, walked to the doorway and looked back.
“I didn’t want to throw a wrench in what we’d kind of gotten back. You know, us.”
***
“Ben?” Julie tapped on the bathroom door. No answer came. She opened the door and found her son asleep in his pajamas and curled up on the floor. Passing Rachel’s room, she shuffled him to bed.
She didn’t want to hover, didn’t want to smother her daughter. However, after spending the morning with Ben, a profound awareness of every day’s precious moments was burning its way into her brain. She didn’t want to forget, didn’t want to ever forget that another day, another minute with loved ones was never guaranteed.
And every day that ticked by, was indeed one day closer to her children leaving home and starting their own separate lives. She had a lot of ground to reclaim in her relationship with Rachel.
Julie eased Ben’s door closed. She knew Rachel was in her room, doing her nightly reading-by-flashlight routine. Whatever reason she had for pulling her covers high, hiding under there to read about the horses she loved—
She’s just like me. Silly that she hadn’t realized it before. Thrilling to have such a unique common ground with her daughter.
Kind, gentle, nurturing, understanding, a good listener. Dear God, help me be all the things I’m not.
Giving herself a quick cheer, Julie nudged open her daughter’s bedroom door. Rachel must have been expecting her, as her head popped out and she flipped back the comforter.
“Guess it was too much to hope for cookies two nights in a row.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Julie approached the bed. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”
Rachel flinched. “I don’t have any contraband under here.”
“You’re not in trouble.” That appeared to be the phrase of the week, possibly month and year where Rachel was concerned. Julie said it again more softly. “Rachel, you’re not in trouble.”
Clearly suspicious but trying to appear calm, Rachel shifted toward the wall. Julie slipped under the comforter, and pulled it up and over both their heads.
“Turn your flashlight back on.”
Rachel’s green eyes glowed with surprise, and Julie grinned with mischief.
“Your Daddy and I have always known you’re a night person. You never wanted to go to bed, even when you were a baby. That doesn’t mean you were bad, just, a night owl.”
“I think too much at night,” Rachel said. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to explain. Believe it or not, I did kind of the same thing when I was a kid.” Putting her childhood in perspective this way and sharing it with her daughter felt strange, yet she was determined to open her heart to Rachel in a new and permanent way.
; “I’ve wanted to sing professionally since I was a little girl,” she continued. “All the time you spend in here at night reading your magazines and studying to one day run your own stables, that’s the kind of time I spent writing songs in my head and pretending I was flying up to heaven singing to God.”
Rachel made a face. “Bet that went over well with Grandma. Um, not.”
“Pretty much. Being under my covers was kind of my safe place.” She blinked and fought back tears. “I am really sorry you’ve needed a safe place from me like I needed from my mom.”
“I don’t always do it to hide from you. Most times I just like to read late. You didn’t want my light on, so ...”
“Daddy gave you the flashlight.”
“Yeah.”
“And permission to go around me?”
“Kind of. You’re not going to take it out on him, are you?”
“No. Or you either, for that matter. It’s not your fault your father and I never learned to talk about things we disagreed on without creating more conflict.”
“How many songs do you think you’ve written?”
“Well, hmm.” Rachel’s interest caught her a little off guard. “Dozens. Probably close to a hundred.”
“Where are they?”
“I have a box in my closet. Notebooks and legal pads, mostly scribbled and slashed with rewrites.”
“Can you publish them for lots of money?”
Julie chuckled. “Probably not. I was hoping to sing them myself one day.”
“Like the song you did for the contest.”
“Yeah. Like that one.”
“You used to sing it to me. At night when you tucked me in bed.”
Julie drew a stuttering breath. “Yes. I did. I’m sorry I stopped doing that. I’m sorry for a lot of things. Might take me a couple of years to apologize for them all.”
“I believe you.”
She exhaled with relief. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been holding her breath, waiting to hear those words. Liar. Hypocrite. How she wanted a different reputation with her daughter.
“Thanks for saying that,” Julie said. “It means a lot.”
“Do you still remember the song?”
“Yes.”
“Will you sing me some of it now?”
Granting the request could set her back. It was completely against doctor’s orders; simply talking so much was against doctor’s orders.
Yet, a fierce resolve stood alone in Julie’s heart. If she gave only one performance in her life, she wanted it to be here with her daughter. Outside of God, this audience of one was and would always be the most important to her.
Julie gulped. “I’d love to,” she said, then quietly sang to her daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Julie’s morning had been non-stop.
She’d dropped Ben at day camp, and after receiving a text from the school to pick up Rachel’s belongings, swung by and retrieved her backpack and laptop. Rachel was now holed up in her room, e-mailing friends and getting the scoop on Mr. Larl’s funeral, which would take place tomorrow, Friday afternoon.
The fire, it turned out, had been a byproduct of plumbing repairs; sparks from new solder had smoldered inside the walls.
Now, as she and Rick walked to the barn, she tried to sound nonchalant. “So, I haven’t seen much of Angelina this week.”
When Rick didn’t comment, she finally had to admit to herself what she’d been scared to even think. The happy-bappy high she’d felt since bringing Rachel safely home after the fire and from all the progress she was making with her family, was starting to wane.
She’d faithfully tried sitting at the piano alone again this morning before cooking breakfast with Rick, hoping to hold on to her newfound peace and serenity. She’d even sat with them all during breakfast, gingerly eating pancakes and hoping Ben’s excitement over today’s field trip to the police station wouldn’t make him throw them up in her car. Yet she could almost feel herself slipping into panic, into her old way of thinking.
They reached the tack room. Rick turned on the air conditioner while she booted up the computer. Once again Angelina wasn’t here, neither was her designer overnight bag. But the folded cot was still shoved up under the counter, waiting for her return.
“I finished updating all the files,” Julie said. “Probably after a couple mornings’ practice, you’ll be able to run it all without me.”
She sat at the desk, Rick pulled up an extra chair. She opened the program and showed him the menu and files.
“I smell Angelina’s perfume.” The words popped out. “Sorry. Tracking invoices and cash flow will be very easy.”
“Just show me.”
She clicked open screens, straightened her shoulders. And got another big whiff of Angelina.
“Does she spray her perfume in here?”
“You know, you used to complain about the smell of hay and horse manure.”
Just can’t make you happy—she heard loud and clear.
“You’re right,” she said. “Here’s the file you’ll use to track payments from boarders.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I.”
“The last couple days,” he said, “I thought we were sort of on the same page.”
“Me, too.”
She was trying so hard to be different, to be kind. Why did she feel like she was barely holding off a stampede of harsh words?
“Let’s start again.”
“Okay. Show me how to post payments made in advance. Angelina’s already paid through the end of the year for Godiva and both the foals.”
“Oh, really?”
“All right,” he said. “That’s the post-Ben Julie talking and I see where this is going.”
“She’s half in love with you, Rick. Anyone can see it on her face, hear it in how she talks to you.”
He stood and walked to the door. “I don’t think that’s true. She’s married. And I’m no more responsible for Angelina saying nice things to me, than I am for you biting my head off.”
Unkind, then accusatory, then downright mean words jumped up her throat.
She pressed her lips together. Bit her tongue. Not too hard, just hard enough.
She turned away from him, clenching her fists and closing her eyes, leaning on the edge of the desk and sitting as still as she possibly could. According to Laurie, this was when she was supposed to pray, every time she felt the battle raging inside her.
Behind her, she heard Rick take one of his long nose-breaths.
One. Two. Three seconds passed.
“Julie.”
She almost laughed. The mistakes in their marriage were so predictable, so formulaic, she knew exactly how this conversation could end. The two of them had wedged themselves into the self-made pattern so well, each time a conflict came, they simply slid right into their respective positions.
Julie, the Lasher, and Rick, he-who-was-lashed.
But what if Laurie was right? What if Julie asked God to be right in the middle of their conflict? Right inside her, with her, prompting her and telling her what she should and shouldn’t say.
Dear God, if I don’t change I’ll undo what little ground I’ve gained. I’ll lose him.
Rick exhaled heavily. “Julie? I’m walking away now. I’m not going to stand here waiting for you to do to me what you’ve done in the past.”
“Don’t go,” she whispered, the words so heavy she could barely force them out.
She looked up at him. “Just stay another minute. Please? I don’t want this time to be like all the others. Believe it or not, I’m praying over here.”
Rick’s chin dropped to a classic yeah right level. “Praying? About me and all my faults.”
“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m asking God to change what’s inside me. Please come back and sit beside me.”
He hesitated, speculation on his face. Then he returned and sat, his back rigid.
&n
bsp; “I heard you singing to Rachel the other night. Brought tears to my eyes. I always wondered how such beautiful songs came out of you on Sunday, then that beauty disappeared the rest of the week.”
“I’m trying to change that. I don’t want to fight about Angelina.” She looked deep into his hazel eyes. Today gray flecks filled the iris. “I don’t want to fight about anything anymore.”
“I think you’re wrong,” he said.
“Well, I think you’re wrong.” They stared at each other, then she softened her expression. “What do we do?”
“She won’t be here today, unless Godiva has a problem or starts labor. Then I’ll call her.”
“I see.”
He took another long breath. “She’s been having her bathroom remodeled and expanded. A surprise for her husband. The first plumber messed up, flooding half the top floor and ruining brand new zebra wood or some such thing. Why are we talking about her?”
Because I’m insecure, she thought. Because she realized how close she’d come to severing her bond with her husband, and how much work she had to do to strengthen it.
She raised her hands to his face, pressed her forehead to his.
“I will change. I am changing. I won’t be perfect, but I’ll work at it every single day.”
“I never asked you to be perfect.” He closed his eyes. “I asked you to be my wife.”
“Maybe that’s what I need to keep in mind,” Julie said. “In case I haven’t told you today, I love you.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
“No, don’t say it back this time. Just this one time let me say it to you to kind of tip the scales to the good side. God knows it’ll take me years to come up flush.”
***
Rick kept his eyes closed. He left his forehead there against his wife’s and let her words sink in. In case I haven’t told you today, I love you.
Call him a dreamer, call him a coward. He wanted another few seconds before facing the next phase of the disagreement, before looking into his wife’s eyes and seeing anger or disappointment or even a scolding.
I think you’re wrong. Well, I think you’re wrong. He knew he was less than a millionth of a second away from the war following the impasse.
Then she hugged him. She hugged him and held him and rested her head on his shoulder until he couldn’t resist sliding his arms around her as well. They sat there, just holding each other.
Sticks and Stones (The Barn Church Series) Page 27