Kay turned to Pierce. “What did you say?”
Daniel groaned. “What are you trying to do to me?”
In that moment, Laurie saw Kay barely contain her wrath, Daniel his dignity. She chuckled at Pierce’s mischievous grin. Is this what he’d been like as a child?
“Now, Kay, it’s not what you think. I—”
Kay lowered her chin. “Daniel Crane. You left Pierce by himself?”
“I’m toast and I know it.” Daniel waved his fork at Pierce. “You, mark my words. When the day comes that your future with the woman you love is at stake, do the smart thing. Beg.” He winked at Laurie. “Besides, son, you’ll undoubtedly be the one at fault.”
Laurie expected Pierce to give a smart retort. Instead, he appeared to be staring at a random spot just over her shoulder. She blocked out the activity around them and looked right into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Why indeed.
***
A hand landed on Pierce’s shoulder, and he turned to see Rick and Julie Matthews. They’d been several years ahead of him in school, but he remembered Rick playing football and them always being a couple.
He stood and shook Rick’s hand. “Great to see you, Rick. Julie.”
“Sorry we couldn’t get over to help you move in,” Julie offered. “Spring break for the kids, we were out of town.”
Laurie rose from her chair and spoke to Julie. “Oh, we had plenty of help. I enjoyed your solo this morning so much. Pierce still remembers you singing at the high school football games.”
Others also chose that moment to greet them. Pierce relaxed more and more as he shook each hand, while Laurie met and conversed with folks she’d never met. She was so good at making people feel welcome and valued. He’d finally come home and, God willing, they’d get to stay here and live their lives.
The noise level rose with conversations and laughter as men headed back to the food lines. Children pulled reluctant mothers to the desserts and grabbed cookies, brownies, slices of cake, or pie. Gilbert approached, plopped two overloaded plates onto the table, and dropped himself into a seat beside Pierce. “These chairs get smaller every year. Hand me a biscuit.”
“Got enough to eat there, Gilbert?”
“Your concern warms me.” He leaned toward Pierce. “Help me out in a minute, will you? We’ve got something special for your folks.”
“Sure.”
After eating, Gilbert rose and walked to the center of the converted barn with members of the youth group who held large, odd-shaped garbage bags. He put both pinkies in his mouth and whistled, silencing the gathering.
“In case you’re wondering, Pastor Daniel, Miss Kay, we really love you,” Gilbert said. A collective cheer ended with applause. “And to show that love, we have a few things for Pastor Daniel. Miss Kay, you’re perfectly safe. You can sit and watch. But Pastor Daniel, we need you right here, right now.”
Daniel tossed his napkin onto the table. “Pierce, did you know anything about this?”
“I did not. Get up there.”
Applause erupted again as Daniel joined Gilbert, who motioned him to a seat in the center of the room.
“Do you know what he’s going to do?” Laurie asked.
“I haven’t a clue. And I’m not responsible.”
“Pierce, I love it here. I love these people. I love you.”
He kissed her temple as Gilbert spoke.
“Some of us have been here a long time. We’ve grown up hearing Pastor Daniel preach and tell jokes. And to show our appreciation, we have a few gifts for you, Pastor, to help in your retirement.”
Expectant laughter drifted through the crowd, along with a stifled cackle and Deacon Floyd’s abrading hah! Daniel’s face turned red and his shoulders shook, clearly in anticipation of the coming jabs.
Gilbert lifted a bright red T-shirt out of the first bag. “The first item we have for you reads, ‘Help! I’m a retired preacher, and I can’t shut up.’ That way, when you’re just wandering around, Ms. Kay can find you.”
The laughter grew. Dad didn’t have a chance.
“Next, we have a toothbrush.” This was easily two feet long. “We figure you can use it whether you keep your real teeth or not.”
Dad accepted it graciously and mimed brushing, which sent the crowd into another round of laughter and applause.
“And finally, new sunglasses.” They, like the toothbrush, were terribly over-sized. “You can take these with you while enjoying the cruise we’re giving you.”
Silence swept over the room. Kay’s eyes misted. “Oh, my,” she said.
“Ms. Kay, the Board and I know that all these years you two have never had a real vacation. We wanted to give you one. Everything’s paid, it’s a package deal. A two-week Caribbean cruise, you pick the date. Gives you plenty of time to plan and pack.”
Daniel stood and walked to Kay. He spoke only to her, then gave her a quick kiss. “I asked her to marry me. She said yes!” They held each other for a long moment as cheers rose to the beamed ceiling.
Pierce watched, marveling at his parents’ example—years of ministry and sacrifice, mutual support and stubborn love. They’d taught him about God, forgiveness, acceptance, sin, and grace. Somehow they’d perfected the skills to surviving life in the ministry, one that all too often stole family time, required endless energy, and held numerous crises and inconveniences. He and Laurie would duplicate that union. They were already on their way to doing so. His previous position as assistant pastor in Florida had merely been practice for their future.
Laurie’s hand slid to his. He scanned the crowd as the whistles, cheers, and laughter faded. These were the people God wanted them to serve.
He breathed deeply. Something inside him clicked into place.
***
His first Monday as pastor of The Barn Church. In Pierce’s opinion, there was no finer job, and no finer way to go to work, trotting along the path through the trees, enjoying the fresh smell of morning dew. Expectancy bloomed as a rosebud opening in the sun. God stirred his spirit. He rested in the certainty of being open to God, ready to listen, and willing to learn. He wanted to grow.
He planted himself behind his desk and read Matthew 26 and 27, the week from Palm Sunday to Easter. While eating lunch he took notes, yearning to rediscover the story and see details he hadn’t noticed before.
When he finished the section regarding the Crucifixion, he went to his knees.
Change.
Most would say Jesus’ death was the ultimate change because it appeared to be such an ending. But His sacrifice ripped apart the isolating temple veil and removed the barriers between God and man. Every person now had access to forgiveness. All because Jesus chose to submit to the Father’s plan, despite the changes He was required to face.
Life held many frightening or painful changes. Like the ones he and Laurie had gone through for him to accept this job. They’d left friends and security in Florida. Took on new responsibilities, new problems. Moved. Yet changes proved one phase of life ended as a new phase began. Relocating here to guide this church was a God-directed change.
“Father, make us new. Start by changing me.”
A wave of apprehension, which he couldn’t ignore, fluttered through him.
Christ, if given the choice, would not have chosen change in that form—death. He’d prayed as much in Gethsemane. But Jesus recognized mankind’s access to forgiveness, reconciliation, and reunion with the Father rested on Him. To Jesus, the potential payoff was worth the price.
If Pierce submitted to the changes God wanted to make in him today—and tomorrow, and the next day—the pain would be more than worth it. He simply had to follow the path, through obedience, to change. If he refused, he would harm himself and others.
What if Jesus had refused? Impossible to comprehend, but what if?
Pierce would not refuse. He would yield, and he needed God’s help leadin
g the congregation to do the same.
He rose, sat in his chair, and wrote a one-page summary. Everything he had just prayed and seen for the first time.
“Father, make us new. Start with me,” he said again.
I am.
He called Laurie to let her know he’d be working late, then stayed in his office and prayed through the evening. He walked home by starlight past the quaint, ever-expanding cemetery and through the still trees while night creatures scurried around him. The street and house stood quiet. The light by the back door shone as a beacon guiding him home. Later, he went to sleep beside Laurie, covered in a blanket of contentment.
He woke on the floor shivering with cold, curled up like when he slept on the bus.
***
Laurie and Kay meandered through the fabric store.
“This is perfect.” Laurie unrolled a swath of yellow eyelet. “Exactly what I wanted for the kitchen.” She set it in the shopping cart. “You know, Mom, it’s really sweet the way Dad repeatedly asks you to marry him.”
“Often he does it in front of people to embarrass me, like at the dinner last Sunday.” Kay laughed. “Sometimes after reading in bed at night, he asks me again right before we go to sleep.”
What would she and Pierce be like after so many years of marriage? If they had no children? If it was just the two of them?
“Pierce reads in bed, too.”
“He picked that up from Daniel. But Pierce isn’t messy like Daniel. My Daniel can destroy a bathroom in two seconds. Pierce was a meticulous child. Changed out of his pajamas, brushed his teeth before he ever came to the kitchen or spoke to us in the morning.”
Laurie knew. Pierce did nothing before brushing his teeth.
“They all have their quirks, Laurie. We do, too. Daniel can’t preach without telling jokes. He says it makes a hard truth go down easier. Like Mary Poppins and a spoonful of sugar, or some such thing.”
Maybe Pierce’s quirks were those occasional, quiet-sad moments he had. But nothing really explained him sleeping on the floor. It just didn’t make sense.
“What’s your quirk, Mom?”
“Oh, I’m organized on the outside, but my emotions are usually a cluttered mess.”
They rounded the corner and there, in huge displays, found rolls of material with matching wallpaper and borders. Classics with Victorian roses. Retro checkered patterns. Whimsical prints for a child’s room or a nursery.
“Well, look at this,” Kay said. “It’d be perfect for a boy or a girl.”
Laurie sighed. “Yes, it would.”
The long, wide border depicted a sun-drenched farmyard complete with a red barn and a silver silo. Chickens, with their fluffy yellow peeps, walked beside pink, pointy-eared pigs. Polka-dot cows grazed with a toffee-colored horse whose silky black forelock lay to one side, exposing large, kind eyes. Laurie envisioned herself at her dining room table sewing matching striped curtains.
“Every woman in your position still watches the calendar, even if she doesn’t talk about it. I should know.” She squeezed Laurie’s hand. “No harm in keeping hope alive.”
Laurie squeezed back, then released. No, she couldn’t keep the yearning to become a mother from resurfacing, but she could put it in its place. In the parlor of her heart, she offered the longing a seat next to her other cherished dreams.
“I have to set it aside, Mom, for a while anyway, or it’s going to control my life. I’m not going to sit around wishing for a baby. I’m going to make our house a home, even if it’s for just me and Pierce.”
Kay gave a nod. “Good for you.”
Laurie spied an olive-green damask, lay the bolt across her cart, and spread out the sample. “Mom, this would be perfect for your new living room.”
“You have such a great eye, Laurie. Will you try to find a job like you had in Orlando, with an established design firm?” She winked at Laurie. “Or try being your own boss?”
“I haven’t quite decided. Am I that easy to read?” In her mind, she was already designing the logo—Designs by Laurie, maybe with a color wheel for the “D.” “How did you know I was considering it?”
“Because I’m a mom. Because I love you like my own. By the way, the other day I unearthed a shoebox of Pierce’s things from when he was little. It was buried in Daniel’s study. It’s in the car. You can take it home.”
“He’s been really busy all week. I’ve barely seen him. I think he’s worried about Sunday.”
“Worried? About Easter?” Kay re-rolled the damask, tucked it into the cart, and pushed toward the checkout lane.
“He thinks I don’t know, but twice this week he’s left our bed and slept on the floor.”
Kay stopped. “You mean Pierce sleeps on the floor? On purpose?”
“No, Mom. It’s happened a few times since we moved here. He goes to sleep beside me, but he doesn’t stay in our bed.”
“I’m going to say something to Daniel.”
Laurie touched her arm. “Please don’t. Not yet anyway. He says it’s nothing.”
“But if he’s having second thoughts about taking over the church—”
“It’s not second thoughts. I don’t know what it is exactly.” Though she had a feeling it wasn’t as simple as nervousness over a new job. “He doesn’t want me to make a big deal out of it. Let’s give him time. If we need help, I promise I’ll ask.”
Kay shook her finger. “I’ve got your word?”
“Yes. If we need help, I’ll ask. You’ve got my word.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Pierce stood in his office, adjusted his tie. A cool Easter Sunday morning was the best possible time to preach a first sermon as a new pastor. The church should be full today. Even prodigals darkened the doors on Easter Sunday, if only to please their mamas.
Mama.
He eyed his double-breasted suit in the mirror, thankful he hadn’t dreamed of Mama in several days. His heart ached when he dreamed of her, thought of her or the bus ride.
At least today he’d start giving back some of what his adoptive parents had given him. After coming to live with Daniel and Kay, Pierce had been a celebrity of sorts. Every elderly member served as his surrogate grandparent, every child in the congregation his friend. His was a large family where hugs were given at the church altar and prayers in the aisles. He never got away with anything, not that he’d tried. He’d strived to make his new parents glad they’d adopted him.
He ran his hands over the large walnut desk Dad had used.
Pierce had cut his teeth on this desk, spiritually speaking. Watched Dad study. Heard Dad pray. Dad’s scent still lingered—worn leather Bible, Juicy Fruit gum. Dad never left home without both. Pierce glanced under the desk, half expecting to see Matchbox cars and tan army men—he hadn’t liked the green ones. Instead, he found worn carpet and a gum wrapper.
Mom’s influence showed as well. A lace doily under the candle on a side table. A gold-framed print of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. But mostly the room spoke of his dad, who’d patiently answered all his questions, no matter how small or insignificant.
“How big is heaven?” Pierce once asked while zooming cars around the room.
Daniel set aside his Bible. “How big?”
“Can you stand up there?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then how come everybody gets buried lying down?”
“Come here, Pierce.” Dad opened his arms. Pierce slid onto his lap and rolled a truck along the desk edge. “Only the body stops living when someone dies. The part that thinks, feels, and loves—the part that can know God—lives on. That’s the part that gets to go to heaven, and God gives the person a new body that won’t get sick or die again.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
“Kind of like if you go to sleep in one place and wake up somewhere else?”
“Kind of like that.”
Now, Pierce ran his hands across the grooved desktop. He glanced at his watch as th
e old seat creaked beneath him. Service wouldn’t begin for two more hours.
He yawned as exhaustion rolled in like morning fog in a dark swamp and wrapped him in its weight. He laid his forehead on his folded hands and closed his eyes.
Mama sat in her chair on the porch, the one missing a spindle. It was daytime, and she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with love.
Then it was night, and a five-year-old Pierce stood with his ear pressed to the door of Mama’s room. He looked through the keyhole.
Suddenly he was on the bus—Set it aside, boy—the loud, rumbling motor hurt his ears.
Then he was back at the door, listening. Mama was crying on the other side. He peered through the keyhole—
Pierce jerked awake. He jumped up from the chair and gulped huge breaths. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped the back of his neck, and checked his watch. Almost thirty minutes had passed.
His clothes, even his socks, clung to his sweat-drenched body as if he had run a mile.
He called Laurie at home. “Hey. Will you bring me a different suit?”
“I’m almost dressed now,” she said. “See you in twenty?”
“Great.” He shed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and waited. Soon Laurie tapped on the door. Pre-service worship music followed her inside, then silenced when she closed the door behind her.
“I brought a black suit, white shirt, two gray ties. One solid. And the one with the diamond pattern.” She took steps toward him, raised soft fingers to his face. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
He stiffened at her approach. He didn’t want her to touch him. Which didn’t make sense.
Shame rose like bile in his throat. For the first time ever, he wanted to tell a bald-faced lie. He wanted to say yes, he was sick, and he needed to go home.
And, for the first time since choosing to become a pastor, he didn’t want to preach. The desire to run, to hide, gripped him. He wanted to crawl under the desk and stay there.
Or lock the door behind Laurie, seal them inside together forever. Just the two of them. No past, no present. No demands.
No memories.
“I’m not sick.” He watched her wait for him to say more, but he had nothing further to say. Something bubbled up inside him, dangerously near to exploding all over both of them. Somehow Pierce knew whatever “it” was would devastate Laurie.
The Spindle Chair Page 5