The Spindle Chair

by Shellie Arnold

  His phone beeped. Low battery. He’d better talk fast.

  “My phone’s dying. I actually reached for your hand during the funeral yesterday.” He laughed self-consciously. “I even caught myself listening for your voice in the crowd at dinner. All those times before that, when I wouldn’t talk to you, you thought I wasn’t paying attention. But I was listening. I heard your conversations with our baby, your prayers—”

  Beep.

  “… for me.” In frustration he hit END and shoved the phone in his pocket.

  Pierce drove, bumper-to-bumper between cabs, buses, and harried businessmen, fighting his way toward home. Laurie had left the light on for him. He hurried up the steps.

  “Pierce, is that you?” Laurie’s sweet voice drifted out to him.

  “Yes, honey.”

  She turned off the outside light, leaving him temporarily blind and in the dark.

  “Laurie?”

  She whipped open the door and, hiding behind it, motioned him in. “I’m getting your supper.” She planted a quick kiss on his cheek and darted away.

  He dropped his suitcase to the floor and spotted flickering candlelight in the dining room. The table was set for one; obviously she had already eaten, as she should have. For her, an empty stomach equaled a queasy stomach.

  Food. Thank God.

  And Laurie. Double thanks.

  He sat. Then he noticed the music. Classical, though he didn’t know the composer. She’d also closed the blinds. He smelled the roast and mashed potatoes before she set the plate in front of him.

  “Your mom cooked dinner and left it in the oven.”

  He reached for her hand, but she returned to the kitchen. His frustration, short-lived but potent, evaporated into the soft mist of steam rising from the hot rolls she brought back with her. She sat beside him.

  He reached for her hand again, rubbed his thumb over her lovely fingers. Holding her gaze, he let her see the frightening darkness that had threatened to consume him. “Laurie, I love you.”

  ***

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Laurie reached for a roll, buttered it, and handed it to him. “Take your time.”

  Even if Pierce spent the next eight, ten years or more working through his pain, wouldn’t it be worth the time and effort? If the situation were reversed, she hoped he would stick with her, too, no matter how long it took.

  “Welcome home,” she said.

  She waited while he ate. When he’d finished, she rose, rounded his chair, and massaged his stiff shoulders while her heart sent pleas to his. Please keep your promise. Don’t pull away from me anymore.

  “Did you get my message?”

  She rubbed harder, deeper, the way she knew he liked. “Yes.” She had listened to it, listened again, and saved it. “Roll your neck.”

  She wanted him to reclaim her, re-establish the beautiful physical intimacy they had enjoyed before. How she needed to feel wanted. Desired. Loved by him.

  In silence, she removed her outer robe and draped it over the back of a chair, revealing a black silk-and-lace gown that flowed over her curves and her rounded belly. Despite her pregnant state, she felt a little sexy. She bent to whisper in his ear while the corners of her mouth lifted in a flirty smile. “Ready for dessert?”

  He rose, turned to her, and clasped his hands at the small of her back. “I guess you went shopping.”

  “There’s a new maternity store in town.” She smiled, sliding her hands up his chest, and enjoying the sensation of touching him without being rebuffed or rejected. “I bought this, introduced myself, and invited the owner to church. I think she’ll visit, if only to see what kind of church has a pastor with a pregnant wife who buys black lingerie.”

  She waited for him to kiss her. Didn’t he want to kiss her?

  “Your baby’s dancing. He or she’s happy you’re home, too. But right now I need you. I need you to love me.”

  He pulled back, obviously uncertain and nervous. “Are you sure?”

  “Dr. Nate said I am fine. We can be normal.”

  She turned her hips, rotating her belly to the side so she could hold him close. “We won’t have much time alone after the baby comes.”

  “We’re okay then?”

  “We’ll have tough spots, I’m sure. But if we keep going like we are now, we’ll be fine, don’t you think?” She searched his face. “Will you do something for me?”

  He nodded.

  Trembling with hesitation, she placed his hand on her stomach. “Just stand here a minute.”

  Finally, the baby pushed and kicked Pierce’s palm. She watched as surprise and recognition brought a smile to his face. With tentative fingers she stroked through his hair, the thick brown waves she hoped their child would have, and consciously clicked a snapshot of his priceless expression for her heart’s box of treasures.

  His fingers twitched against her belly. Laurie’s breath hitched. “Pierce, please don’t pull away.”

  ***

  Pierce dropped to his knees, splayed both hands across Laurie’s stomach, and gently pressed his face to her belly. “I love you, little one. I love you and your mama.”

  And to think he had almost cut himself off, completely, from both of them. Thank God Laurie didn’t hate him—this beautiful woman, who was going to have his baby.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered.

  “I’m thinking how I’ll feel if you decide to breastfeed. Part of me wants you to. I think it would be the loveliest thing I could ever see.”

  “Oh, Pierce.”

  He looked up at her. “And part of me doesn’t want you to, because I want to feed the baby, too. Then I think you need to nurse, or you’ll never get to hold him, or her, because I’ll never want to let our child go. How could my father let me go, Laurie? How could he send me away? He had to know it would hurt me more than a newborn who didn’t know any better. It tore me apart.”

  The baby kicked Pierce’s hand again, hard. And again, then must have flipped. Laurie’s belly rolled like a shifting waterbed under his palm.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “It feels strange. Even if it did that wouldn’t mean it’s bad. Some things that hurt aren’t bad.”

  “Tell me you’ll have an epidural right away.” Tears gushed from his eyes, he wiped them with the heels of his hands. “I picture you in labor. Crying. Hurting. Bleeding. And I can’t decide whether to throw up or run.”

  Laurie managed to lower herself to the floor beside Pierce, quite a trick with the long gown and her heavy, about-seven-months-along belly.

  She thought she heard a seam rip, sacrificed her attempt at being sexy, and hiked up the gown so she could kneel and wrap her arms around her beloved. All she could do was hold him.

  She’d envisioned a much different homecoming when she’d bought the negligee, when she’d bathed and slathered lotion on her skin earlier this evening.

  But his weeping broke her heart. She had never seen him cry like this. Like a broken, abandoned child. Chest heaving. Breath catching. His entire body shook. His tears soaked her gown.

  She would have to be careful. She must be gentle and easy with him. She didn’t have to push; God was obviously doing that.

  “I’m here, Pierce. I love you.” Father, help me say what You want said, and do what You want done. Tell me.

  Love him.

  Don’t we need to talk now? I want him to talk to me.

  He will. Love him.

  Minutes passed and her knees ached. Gingerly, she lowered herself to a cross-legged position, facing him. Gradually, his tears ceased.

  She knew how he must feel. Exhausted and heavy-headed. She’d cried just like this so many nights. Still, gratitude filled her.

  Finally, there was honesty between them.

  ***

  Pierce could fall asleep right there. On the floor, with Laurie’s arms around him, his head on her shoulder.

  Then he realized. He’d soaked her neck, the ends of her hair with his t
ears.

  He had no idea how long they had been there like that, how long he had cried. The fact that she had stayed with him through it all—his secrecy, his withdrawal, his poor treatment of her, his tears—humbled him. And sealed his love for her inside a furnace-forged steel resolve.

  You wanted change. This is only the beginning.

  He could barely speak. “Laurie.”

  The tips of her fingers stopped his words. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything right now.”

  The music stopped. Their eyes locked. In hers he saw the love he had always needed. He simply hadn’t known how to let it reach the places inside his heart that he hadn’t let God or himself or anyone else touch.

  She whispered, “You’ll have to help me up. I think my leg went to sleep.”

  He helped her into a chair, then sat at her feet. “Which one?”

  “Both?”

  He began with her toes. Small, slender, soft. He rubbed them, kneaded them. He slid a palm around her heel and cradled it, while massaging her arch.

  She twitched and giggled, running a hand down her thigh.

  “Does that tickle?”

  “Yes. My legs feel like bugs are crawling all over them.”

  He grabbed both calves and pulled gently, slid his hands down to her ankles. How he had missed touching her.

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to move. But I have to go to the bathroom.” He helped her stand, she held their hands between them. “If you’ll lock up, turn off the lights, we can go to bed.”

  He replaced the chair at the table and rinsed his dishes, surprised that he could still move, still function, despite his atypical meltdown moments ago. Apparently, she thought no less of him for it. Amazingly, neither did he.

  When he entered their bedroom, he found her gown on the floor. He stripped to his boxers, slipped in bed behind her like he always did, and was surprised to find her wearing one of his old T-shirts.

  She turned out the lamp, settled back against his chest. “I’ve been sleeping in this since you left because it smells like you.”

  He buried his face in her hair, breathed deep. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m not just talking about going to Florida.”

  She reached back for his hand, pulled his arm around the baby she carried. “I know.”

  For the first time in weeks, his entire body relaxed.

  “Wake me if you need me.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it.

  “I’ll always need you.”

  He felt her smile first, then her whisper. “We’ll sleep tonight and love each other in the morning.”

  He kissed her shoulder, answered with slurring words. “Anything you want. I love you, Laurie.”

  “I’m glad you’re home.”

  ***

  The bus driver, a skeleton-thin black man who smiled a lot, kept watching him in the wide mirror above the steering wheel.

  Hunger pangs rumbled in his stomach, but Pierce didn’t know if eating on the bus was allowed. So he sneaked a few finger snatches of bread out of his bag and slipped them into his mouth one at a time when the driver looked elsewhere. Then he used the paper sack for a pillow and lay facing the dark-green back of the seat, because looking out the big window in front of the driver made him feel like he was falling and needed to hold onto something.

  The bus stopped. Had they driven him back home?

  He sat up and looked around, recognizing nothing. The farm was nowhere to be seen.

  Then the bus made a loud hissing sound—just like Daddy’s tractor—and continued on. Which made him more afraid because he knew Daddy and Mama and the farm were very far away.

  With a dry crust of bread crumbled in his fist, he silently cried himself to sleep.

  He woke in Daniel Crane’s arms.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When morning came, Laurie left Pierce sleeping in their bed. She crept out of their room and called her in-laws to let them know Pierce had arrived home safely. Then she went to the nursery to stand by the crib. She stroked her hand over her belly.

  Joy and relief shot through her heart, almost taking her breath. Pierce was home, he was willing to go to counseling and work on their relationship.

  Soon they would bring their child home to this house, this room. They needed to hang the border, purchase a rocking chair, build the shelving and a window seat. Julie Matthews and Milly Newman wanted to plan a baby shower, which meant she needed to make a list of things she needed and give it to them.

  Time would fly now that she’d reached the final trimester. At her next appointment she would finally have a sonogram. They needed to decide whether or not they wanted to know the baby’s sex.

  Laurie wanted to know. She wanted to pick a name and use it when talking to her child. But they hadn’t discussed names. They hadn’t discussed anything.

  Urgency. One wave, two, crested in her heart and crashed into her mind.

  There was too much to do—finish the nursery.

  Too much to learn—Lamaze.

  Too much to handle from Pierce’s memories. She hoped he didn’t change his mind about seeing a counselor.

  When would there be time to enjoy being pregnant? To think about the baby? To do all the things she had kept herself from even thinking about?

  She turned to see Pierce standing in the doorway.

  “You dreamed all night,” she said.

  His eyes stayed on hers.

  “I held your arm tight around me every time you started to pull away.”

  ***

  Pierce could see Laurie was worried and a little scared. It showed on her face and in the way her hand trembled as she pushed back her hair.

  “We, um, still have things to do in here. Will you help me?”

  “Sure.” He pushed away from the doorframe and stepped to her. “You left the bed.”

  She fidgeted with the hem of the T-shirt she wore. “We meet with the counselor at five o’clock today. Okay?”

  He caught her shoulders in his hands and rubbed. “Laurie, I don’t know everything I’m supposed to do.”

  Her damp eyes glowed, her breath and words came fast. “Can’t we just love each other? I don’t mean pretend that you’re not going through something, pretend we’re not going through something. But can’t we simply love each other? Can’t there be moments we enjoy, times we talk about the baby? And if we cry, we cry. But we might laugh, too.”

  She closed her eyes, stood rigid and took a deep breath as he had seen weightlifters do. Her voice faded to a whisper. “I feel so disconnected from you. I have for weeks. Now I know why.” She opened her eyes, and looked straight to his soul. “But I can’t stay mad at you. Every time I pray, it’s like God says, ‘No, don’t concentrate on anger; be thankful you know what the problem is. Now you can fix it.’”

  “I do want to fix this, Laurie. For us.” He pulled her close, pressed his forehead to hers. “For our baby.”

  “Watching you cry last night, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help you. Then when we went to bed, I didn’t know what you were thinking, and I didn’t want to pressure you. We used to make love all the time before this happened. I feel like I need you even more now. I need the good times to balance out the bad. I always thought we could face anything if we faced it together. Can’t we just be together? Do your memories have to be a wedge between us?”

  He looked into her eyes as her tender hands traced his jaw line, his cheekbones, over his brows.

  Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

  The scripture swirled through his heart, as if bringing fresh air and sweeping through cobwebbed corners.

  They will become one flesh.

  The choice he would have to make over and over again for days, weeks, possibly the rest of his life, waited before him. To share his struggles with her as he had last night. He would be a better husband because of it. A better father.

  He covered her hands with his, kissed her fingers, and slid them from his face.
“Come back to bed with me.”

  He led her back to their room. “I don’t know why,” he said. “I don’t know why I pulled away from you, even after telling you what I remembered. In some ways it’s just as scary to be honest, but at least when I’m honest, I get to be close to you. And I have to be close to you.”

  ***

  There was no music, as Laurie had planned for last night’s reunion. No sexy nightgown and dim lights to camouflage her form. Instead, raw daylight wove its way around the blinds. She could hide nothing.

  Pierce had touched her silk-covered stomach last night, feeling their child inside her move. But he had not actually seen her belly for weeks. Until now.

  Her heart pounded as they stood facing each other by the bed. He kissed her. The baby kicked and rolled.

  With quiet reverence Pierce gently stroked her stretched skin. Laurie watched his expression as wonder changed to tenderness, then surrendered to possessiveness. She could almost read the words on his face, this is mine.

  “I love you, Pierce.” Her heart sighed with contentment. Had they ever been this open, this transparent with each other before?

  She lay on the bed and opened her arms to him in welcome. A shimmer of anticipation danced across her skin, followed by his hands, then his lips. How she needed his touch.

  By unspoken agreement, the pace stayed slow and intentional. She kept her eyes open, loved looking into his as grateful tears blurred her vision.

  Finally he braced himself above her. “I shouldn’t put my weight on you.” His breath danced across her mouth. “How do we …?”

  She smiled up at him. “I think we can figure it out.”

  Later, when she laid her head on his shoulder, she let her eyes drift closed and whispered, “Wake me at three o’clock.”

  Laurie thought she’d sleep, but she didn’t. Pierce relaxed, she heard his breathing go deep and even. But rather than rolling over and turning her back to him, she stayed beside him, her head on his shoulder, an arm draped across his chest, their unborn child between them.