The Spindle Chair

by Shellie Arnold

  She lifted her eyes to Kay. “He’s hardly touched me since the day we found out I’m pregnant. And he won’t let me touch him. I cook his food, wash his laundry, and I’m carrying his child. But we’re living as roommates. I might as well be a piece of furniture.”

  Kay pushed herself away from the wall and wrapped both arms around Laurie. “Lord, the woman in me wants to slap him. The mother in me wants to defend him. The part of me that trusts You knows You’re at work. Please speak to Pierce.”

  Laurie threw away her tissues and walked to the sink. “How do you know God’s hand is in this, Mom? I’ve been a Christian almost all my life. I’m a pastor’s wife, and I’m struggling to see how any good can come from our situation.”

  “It’s like Pierce has been walking on a broken leg that healed wrong,” Kay said. “And God wants him to be fit enough, healthy enough to dance with you. You are the daughter I never had. And that precious baby you’re carrying is my grandchild. I’m praying for you, and I’m praying for Pierce.”

  Laurie’s bulging belly touched the edge of the counter. She quickly turned back to Kay.

  “Here, Mom.” Laurie took her hand, gently pressed. “Feel it?”

  A soft push. New, precious life.

  Kay’s eyes watered.

  “I think he’s stretching,” Laurie said, “or she. There’s a lot of movement this time of night.” Tears spilled out of her eyes again. “Weeks ago. We were going to bed. I thought …” She glanced in the mirror and saw her own blush. “I thought we would be together, love each other. I kissed him and he kissed me back. I wanted him to love me so much. Then his stomach pressed against mine. The baby kicked, and Pierce jumped away like I had the plague.

  “He left me, Mom. He left me and took his pillow to the couch. I was so humiliated, I was nauseated. And that was before he remembered exactly how his mother died. Now he just climbs in bed after he thinks I’m asleep.”

  Kay took Laurie by the shoulders. “And he won’t talk to you.”

  “Hardly. It’s like he tries and then something stops him from opening up to me. He expects me to read between the lines of his feelings—which he won’t talk about either—and just accept that he can’t be there for me when our baby’s born. I know he’s afraid. But if he would just talk to me, we could face this together, couldn’t we? I’m so disappointed, Mom. I’m angry and hurt. I always thought this would be such a happy time for us, for me.” Laurie shook her head. “I want things from him, Mom. And this is the only time some of it will mean anything.”

  “Because you’re pregnant.”

  “Yes. What if this is the only baby we ever have? My heart’s getting hard. I can feel it. Tell me what to do.”

  “Be diligent to study scripture, Laurie. Dig in and follow it. You won’t get through this without staying close to God.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

  “The next part might be one of the toughest things you’ll ever do,” Kay said. “Offer Pierce every possible chance to be part of your life and pregnancy. Don’t withdraw from him, even in reflex, the way he withdraws from you.”

  Laurie stiffened. Why should she keep trying to reach out to him, including him when he obviously wanted to avoid her pregnancy?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kay continued. “That you have every right to protect yourself by putting distance—emotional, even spiritual distance—between the two of you. I’m begging you not to do it. Not for him, but for you. I’m sure you won’t get any closer to the solution you want, the marriage you want, that way.”

  Laurie blurted her response. She had thought it so often, it stayed on the tip of her tongue. “But he won’t let me help him. Every time I try, it’s like he slaps my hand away. That gets old after a while.” Her heart had been wounded in the same places over and over again.

  “That kind of treatment does get old. I’ve left a couple of messages on his phone and had no calls returned.” Kay wrapped an arm around her. “But here’s two things I’ve learned. First, God’s the only one who can change Pierce, or anyone else for that matter. Not you, not us, not even our love for him. Second, you’re not responsible for how Pierce reacts to what you do, you’re responsible for what you do. If you maintain the distance and feed the dissension between the two of you, you’re sure to get more of the same.

  “But if you show him you love him anyway—and that does not mean you can’t tell him when he hurts you—you have a chance of growing together instead of growing apart. Then you have nothing to apologize for, no mess to clean up on your side.”

  Laurie shook her head. “I wasn’t perfect either. I knew something was wrong, and for too long I refused to confront it. I guess I just didn’t want to lose him.”

  “Laurie.” Kay spoke with a tenderness Laurie imagined her own mother would extend. “Now that you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have been doing, you’re repentant and you’re trying to change it, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, sweetie, Pierce deserves the same opportunity. God’s giving you the chance to change, and He’s not pulling away from you. Treat Pierce the same. Pierce just needs more internal renovating than you do right now.”

  “Renovating. I understand. But I’m tired, Mom. I’m really tired.”

  ***

  After his wife left and his mother followed her down the hall, Pierce counted the minutes.

  Gilbert knew nothing about Pierce’s predicament, and his concern for Angus further distracted him. More than once, a doctor wearing mint-green scrubs came out of the maternity unit to talk with another group in the waiting room, family members and friends obviously hoping for news about a new mother and a newborn baby. Pierce heard whispers, this is taking too long, and speculation, maybe she’ll need a C-section. He tried to ignore the mounting tension in the room. He couldn’t imagine a worse place to be.

  Gilbert stood, ran his hands down his thighs. “I’m going to get some coffee. Daniel?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll wait here with Pierce.”

  “Me neither,” said Pierce, and Gilbert left.

  “If you want a weekend off, I can preach some Sunday soon,” Dad said. “Maybe you and Laurie could go somewhere together.”

  “Look, Dad. I know you’re trying to help. But no. Thanks anyway.”

  Dad put a hand on Pierce’s shoulder. “Son. God can heal you. At some point you will need to talk about your mother and father.”

  Pierce’s eyes darted around. Was anyone watching? Did anyone hear?

  He gave a slight shrug away from his dad’s hand. “Leave it alone, Dad.”

  You’re broken. You’ve no business in ministry.

  “Excuse me, Pastor Crane?” A thick, athletic-looking teen nervously cleared his throat and approached. “I’m sorry. You are Pastor Crane, right? The Barn Church?”

  “Yes,” Pierce answered.

  “I, um, I went there with my mom. On Easter.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, shook Dad’s hand, and stood before Pierce like a defendant on trial. “I prayed. You prayed. With me. I’m Luke.”

  What else could Pierce do? He patted the seat next to his. “How can I help you, Luke?”

  “You see, sir … it’s like this. My girlfriend’s having a baby. My baby. And I’m scared, you know what I mean?”

  Yes, he did know.

  “She’s getting an epidural now. I know we shouldn’t have, you know, been together without being married. But I’m going to marry her.”

  Pierce knew, he knew what Luke was going to ask. It’s what everyone asked of a pastor, what would always be expected of Pierce. But this must be his last. No way could he ever make himself do this again.

  Poetic justice, he supposed—praying for a young couple and their unborn baby would mark the end of his career.

  Someone behind Luke called his name. He answered over his shoulder. “I’ll be right there. Please, Pastor Crane, will you come pray for Isabella and the baby?”

  To Pierce’s
surprise, his dad stood. “We’ll both go.”

  They found a beautiful young girl with tousled, long, dark hair lying on her side in the hospital bed. Luke rushed over to her. “What happened?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, a tired smile on her face. “The epidural worked. Who are they?”

  Embarrassed, Luke stepped back, and introduced Pierce and his father. “I thought they could pray with us. For the baby.”

  She motioned Luke closer. “Do they know we’re not married?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. On Easter Sunday I heard the pastor say that God will start working with you right where you are. Right now, you’re in labor, so we start here.”

  “Maybe he’ll marry us, after,” she said.

  Daniel nudged Pierce forward.

  A machine at the bedside beeped, beeped, while emitting a rhythmic whirring sound. Perched on top, a video screen showed a pulsating picture of a tiny heart.

  The room grew smaller, smaller.

  The sounds grew louder, louder.

  Birth was about to happen here.

  Pierce cleared his throat, then prayed aloud hoping Isabella wouldn’t have a contraction before he finished. His dad offered a second Amen.

  Dr. Nate entered, walked quickly to the young mother-to-be’s side. “Feel better?”

  Isabella shifted to her back, reached for Luke’s hand. “Much.”

  “Hi, Pastor.” Dr. Nate smiled as he grabbed a pair of gloves from a box on a shelf by the bed. “Didn’t know you knew Isabella and Luke.”

  A nurse swung the door open. “Dr. Nate, we need you in the next room, please.”

  “I’m coming.” He followed her out. “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder.

  Daniel patted Isabella’s arm. “Luke, let us know what happens. Just call the church number and leave a message.”

  “Yes, sir. I will.”

  Pierce all but ran back to the waiting area. He looked at Gilbert, who sat flipping through a sports magazine. “Where’s Laurie?”

  “She took Kay home. She said Daniel could give you a ride later.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked away as if he had a purpose, as if he had somewhere important to go. He rounded the corner, and took advantage of the privacy to sag against the wall.

  No, he could never, ever do that again.

  You shouldn’t be in ministry.

  And Laurie. He’d failed her—he knew it to his core. He had and would continue to fail her, because he’d never be strong enough to be there when she had their child.

  Pierce closed his eyes. He was no better than his father.

  ***

  “Laurie. Your hands are shaking. Do you want me to drive?”

  Laurie watched her speed the last mile to Kay’s home. “No. I’m … I need to hold onto something.”

  “I understand. Just, just know that I’m here if you need me.”

  But for how long? People who loved you, despite their best intentions, didn’t always get to pick to stay forever, even if you needed them. Laurie knew that firsthand, from losing her parents. Neither of them would have chosen to leave her alone the way they had.

  Inside her, a sickening, dark certainty grew that Pierce would leave her, too. That he would leave by choice. Before these last few weeks she’d never have expected it.

  Laurie parked in front of Kay’s door, Kay reached out and rested a hand on Laurie’s tightening fingers. “I’m sure you really miss your parents right now. I can’t replace your mom, but I do pray for you like I think she would if she were here.”

  Laurie nodded briskly, the knot in her throat blocked any verbal response.

  Kay patted her hand. “You don’t have to answer. Be safe driving home.”

  Rural Alabama didn’t exactly boast an abundance of streetlights in its farming communities. The dark roads home demanded she use her high beams. The temptation to drive, just keep driving somewhere, anywhere, simmered and boiled like hot lava through her stomach. She hadn’t vomited in days, but her frayed nerves might end that streak.

  She parked in front of her home. The sweet frame house stood dark and empty as a tomb. Would it mark the spot where her marriage died?

  The baby kicked. “Oh, God.” She folded her arms across her middle as grief shook her body. “I love Pierce. And I love this baby. How can having one cost me the other?”

  She waited. Listened. A single pair of headlights approached behind her, then passed.

  Pierce hadn’t followed her. Did he even know, even care, that she’d left?

  ***

  Pierce stared out the passenger window as Daniel drove him home.

  “I can preach in your place this weekend if it’ll help you.”

  “Yeah,” Pierce said. “You should do that.”

  “As long as you want me to. Son, you’ve isolated yourself and you’re depressed. You’re just now remembering a past no child should face.”

  And realizing how very flawed and damaged he was. Pierce pressed his palms to his temples. “I’m sorry, Dad. I wish this didn’t hurt you … or Laurie.”

  “Hurt me?” Daniel patted Pierce’s shoulder. “My concern is for you and Laurie and the baby you made together.”

  “I can’t be who I promised Laurie I’d be. I can’t do what we dreamed about together.”

  “Casting your cares on God means handing them over. That requires looking at them, touching them. Which isn’t fun or easy. Don’t let your past dictate what you will and won’t do. God’s brought your memories to the surface to heal you. Now it’s up to you to walk through the process.”

  They reached Pierce’s home. He got out of the car, then spoke through the open door. “I know you’re trying to help, Dad. Maybe I’m not really cut out for being a pastor.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t say anything else, just take care of the church this weekend.”

  Pierce went inside to the living room and sat on the floor in the dark.

  ***

  Her hair mussed, her face puffy from exhaustion, Laurie found Pierce the next morning standing in their living room and staring out the window. Looking at what, she didn’t know, and couldn’t imagine. She had absolutely no idea what was going through his mind. She might never know.

  Sorrow, dry and gritty as the desert, scraped against her heart and made her wince. She could do nothing more to persuade him to open up to her.

  Whatever is true.

  But she had nothing more to give him.

  Think about such things.

  He was leaving her right then, in every way that counted. In his heart and mind he was walking away.

  She leaned against the doorway and forced raspy words through her tear-roughened throat. “If you don’t love me anymore, don’t want me anymore, I wish you’d just tell me.”

  Still he didn’t face her. “I think I should resign my position as pastor.”

  Tears she didn’t think she had sprung into her eyes. So … what? They’d move again? Or had he considered her at all?

  If not, where would she go? What about the baby?

  She squeezed her eyes tight. Drew a shuddery breath. “Will you look at me?” Fury, fresh and full, spun through her like a tornado and she clenched her fists at her sides. “You at least owe me that.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Fire away.”

  He turned, and the desolate look on his face broke Laurie’s heart again.

  “I have another OB appointment this week.” She walked to him. “I don’t know if you care, but I’m still doing everything I should for our unborn child.”

  “I don’t know what else is inside me, Laurie.”

  She stopped, drew another shaky breath. Fat tears dripped down her face. “The pain that’s been hidden inside you, it’s immense, I know. But how, how could you pray with another woman in labor, when you won’t even talk to me about our baby?” Her heartbeat pounded in her throat. “We dreamed together of having a child. What happened to our dream?”

  Sorrow sliced her hear
t repeatedly, leaving long, fresh gashes. Pierce didn’t know it, but the blood of their marriage was all over his hands.

  The phone rang, but neither of them moved to answer. She tried to stand there, watching him, waiting, hoping he’d reach for her. But nausea rose high and rolled strong, forcing her to flee to the bathroom.

  ***

  He followed her. What else could he do?

  She’ll never forgive you.

  He sat on the edge of the tub while she heaved into the commode, then handed her a wet cloth when she simply sat on the hard wooden floor, her forearms folded over the toilet seat and bracing her head. When her stomach had emptied, she simply curled up on the floor.

  The phone rang again. Neither of them moved to answer.

  “I’m sorry, Laurie. I’m so sorry.” He slid to the floor beside her and sat in his own shame. He had the strangest feeling of hanging in mid-air, as if suspended in a weird limbo-land, dangling between worlds and realities.

  “Sorry doesn’t help me. Leave me alone, Pierce.” She stood, and turning her back to him, reached into the shower and turned on the faucets.

  He left her there, closing the door behind him as the phone rang yet again. He hurried to the kitchen and snatched it up. “Hello.”

  “Pierce. So glad I caught you at home. It’s Isaac Hammond in Orlando.”

  “Pastor Hammond.”

  “I’ve only got a moment here, Pierce. But I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Ina Hood died yesterday. She left specific instructions for you to be contacted at her death. She wanted you to handle part of the service. Airfare, rental car, everything’s paid. You can stay at your old apartment over her garage; I have a key for you. I know she was important to you and Laurie, and I know Laurie’s pregnant, but can you come? Today?”

  “Sure.”

  He stayed in the kitchen debating how to tell Laurie about Ina’s death and funeral. The water pipes were still humming, so he called his parents and asked them to stay with Laurie while he was gone, then quickly packed and slid a note under the bathroom door.

  A cowardly action, probably selfish, and would confirm to her that he was only slightly higher than slime. On an impulse, he shoved the notebook she had given him into his suitcase, then zipped it closed.