The Spindle Chair

by Shellie Arnold

  “Pierce, we want to know, don’t we?”

  “What?”

  “We need to tell him if we want to know the sex of the baby.”

  He kissed Laurie’s cheek. “Sure.”

  “Let’s see.” Dr. John slid the device around, stopped and pressed more buttons, then did it all again. “I’d say you have a daughter.”

  Laurie’s high-pitched squeal almost burst Pierce’s eardrums, but he didn’t care. And there would be many more ear-splitting screams, from his little girl who would grow and play and call him Daddy.

  “It’s Hope, Pierce. Our little Hope. I can’t stop crying.” Laurie sat up, giving him a loud, smacking kiss, right in front of the young doctor.

  “Hope Elizabeth Crane,” she said. “I can’t wait to tell your parents.”

  ***

  Dr. John Bridges turned off the machine, handed Pierce and Laurie some black-and-white photos, and ejected the DVD they had brought so they could have their own copy of the sonogram. “Consultation Room 2 is right across the hall; come over after you get dressed.”

  He lifted her chart and paused at the door. The way they were looking at each other, he wasn’t sure they knew he was still in the room. “Mrs. Crane?”

  “Yes?”

  She still wasn’t looking at him. “Come across the hall after you’re dressed.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you. Oh, Pierce …”

  John exited the room, closing the door behind himself. With Laurie’s records in hand, he went straight to the empty employee lounge and chugged a coke in three big gulps. He needed caffeine. He needed air.

  He needed to think.

  When he’d first opened the door and realized who his patient was, he’d been grateful Laurie wasn’t quite ready. Giving her the extra minutes had also given him time to switch completely back into professional mode and make himself concentrate on his patient.

  He squashed the can and tossed it into the recycling bin. What had Laurie said? She couldn’t wait to tell Pierce’s parents.

  What if Pierce had never been told he was adopted? What if he didn’t know? What if he didn’t remember their father, the farm, or their mother?

  John flipped open her chart.

  Laurie Crane. Husband, Pierce Crane. The same man who had preached on Sunday at Rowe City Gospel Church, where John sat in the back with their weeping father.

  His patient’s husband was his own long-lost brother.

  There were only two options, weren’t there? Identify himself, or not.

  If he was on-call when Laurie went into labor, he would deliver his own niece. Would Laurie be comfortable with that? Would his brother look at him and see the person responsible for their mother’s death?

  He should say something to them.

  But first he had some investigating to do.

  John searched through Laurie’s demographic information, locating the emergency contacts. Daniel and Kay Crane were listed, Pierce’s adoptive parents. He’d call them as soon as he had a minute.

  He composed himself. Met with them like any other expecting couple. His little break had put him behind, so he caught up on patients, then closed himself in his office and called the Cranes.

  The call was answered by a female voice before the end of the first ring.

  “What is it, Laurie? Did you forget to tell me something? Daniel and I are thrilled it’s a girl. A girl!”

  “Mrs. Crane?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  A male voice belly-laughed in the background, the woman spoke away from the phone. “Hush, you.” Then back to John. “So sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Mrs. Crane, this is Dr. John Bridges. I’m an obstetrician at Dr. Jordan’s clinic. Is your husband available also?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Our daughter-in-law, Laurie Crane, is a patient at your office. She’s expecting our first grandbaby.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If I could speak with you and Mr. Crane.”

  “Just a moment.” Then he heard, “Daniel, it’s Laurie’s doctor. He wants to speak to us.”

  A gentleman came on the line. “This is Daniel Crane. My wife is Kay.”

  “Mr. Crane, this is Dr. John Bridges. I’m an obstetrician at Dr. Jordan’s clinic. Do you two have a moment?”

  “Certainly, Dr. Bridges. We’ve got you on speaker. How can we help you?”

  “Well, sir, and ma’am, does Pierce know he was adopted?”

  “Is something wrong with Laurie?” Kay asked.

  “No, ma’am. Laurie’s fine.”

  Daniel spoke next. “Dr. Bridges, exactly what is this about?”

  “Well, sir, ma’am, I just learned of Pierce’s existence … I’m Pierce’s brother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The phone rang right after Pierce and Laurie entered their home. Laurie opened the refrigerator. “I’ll make lunch.”

  Pierce lifted the receiver. “Hi, Mom. Oh. Sorry, Dad.”

  “Son, we received a call from Dr. John at the clinic just moments after you and Laurie left there. Dr. John Bridges,” his father said.

  Pierce sank against the counter. He suddenly remembered being a little boy, jumping out of the huge oak tree in the front yard and pretending to fly. With a towel tied around his neck, and a Superman figure in hand, he leaped off the branches—thrilling at the weightless feeling—and hit the ground running. He was a superhero. Invincible. Pain and peril couldn’t touch him.

  Both pummeled him at once.

  Pain. The face of his dead mother, dotted with traces of fresh blood, hung in his mind like filmy gauze. He couldn’t look at anything in that moment without seeing her.

  Peril. He had been found and was trapped. Like a child who had seen an approaching tornado and run for the cellar, only to find that when the storm passed, heavy debris blocked the doors from the outside.

  “He found our number in Laurie’s chart and called us first, concerned you might not know you were adopted. He’s your brother, Pierce. He and Luther came to church Sunday. He says he didn’t know about you until recently.”

  His father had been at church Sunday? And his brother. That’s where he’d seen Dr. John before.

  “He wants to meet you. He even asked if I thought you’d meet him for lunch, like, today. I don’t think you should wait on this, son. I believe this is an answer to prayer for you.”

  ***

  One look at Pierce’s paling face, and Laurie knew that her actions in this moment would have a lasting impact on her future. Their future.

  Like the day she’d arrived home from school and discovered a stray dog hiding under the back steps. She didn’t touch it, but simply backed away and scampered to the front door instead. Later, a neighbor had been bitten by that same dog, and contracted rabies.

  A second time was the night of her best friend’s sixteenth birthday party. Laurie had looked forward to it all week; she and her friends had planned a midnight picnic while camping at the nearby reservoir. But her friends, including the “birthday girl,” decided to swim in their birthday suits, when some boys showed up bringing liquor to share.

  Laurie had refused to participate, and instead locked herself in her best friend’s new car and slept in the back seat.

  One of the boys had drowned. The police found his body the next morning.

  This event—this happening and how she handled it—was a pivotal moment. Father, what should I do? What should I say?

  Carry each other’s burdens.

  She went to Pierce and wrapped her arms around him as he stood frozen with the phone pressed to his ear. She rubbed his back, gently moving her hands up and down, as his heart pounded against hers.

  Finally, he relaxed enough to breathe. He gulped air.

  “It’s all right. I’m here. It’s all right.”

  Dear God, please shroud my husband in peace. Give him strength, help him, and heal him. Give me wisdom to know what to do, what to say.

  “Yeah, Dad, I heard you. I’ll
talk to Laurie, let you know what I decide.”

  He replaced the phone in its cradle and clung to her.

  ***

  Pierce clutched Laurie tightly, desperate to hold onto her and his new perspective, the new vision of his family that God had given him during the sonogram.

  Laurie and their baby girl, Hope.

  He was not alone. He was five years old. On a bus—the likes of which he had never before ridden—clutching a small paper sack to his chest, his head bobbing against the bottom of the bus window’s hard metal frame.

  He was not curled up on and facing a dark-green seat, waking to find that his old life and everything he knew before was gone, swept away as unwanted dust.

  I know the plans I have for you. To prosper you.

  The adoption had been arranged before his mother died.

  God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.

  Daniel and Kay had been waiting for him at the bus stop.

  The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.

  Pierce remembered waking as Daniel lifted him in cradling arms and carried him down the bus steps to their car. Kay held him in the back seat as they drove home.

  She sang to him.

  Pierce was tinier than most five-year-olds, small-framed. He was dirty. He probably smelled.

  He remembered them taking him home, showing him this kitchen. His room, the one Laurie was now making into a nursery. Where the bathrooms were. Two of them, inside, with lights.

  Kay had continued to hold him while sitting at the table that day, Daniel sat next to them. In the quiet house, they spoke softly, coaxing him to eat.

  He remembered hearing the sharp crunch of a fat pickle in his own mouth. The tart smell of vinegar from a big, glass jar filled with them. The sticky juice that trickled to his chin.

  They had kept him and loved him and made him their own.

  If his father had kept him, would his life have had the same love, the same laughter, the same opportunity to grow up knowing God?

  Pierce doubted it.

  And there was the rub.

  “Laurie, do you believe I can be thankful for God’s provision of my parents, and still grieve my mother? What I mean is, I don’t have to be glad Mama died in order to be grateful for Mom and Dad, do I?”

  “Of course not. One doesn’t have to exclude the other.”

  “It’s work to think this way.” He paused. “You won’t believe what’s happened.”

  His brain spun as he told her about John. He watched her eyes go round, her face light up. When she bit her bottom lip, obviously torn between trying not to say words he might not want to hear, but probably needed to.

  “Tell me, Laurie.”

  “Okay.” An instant, huge smile appeared on her pretty face, and she tightened her hold on him. “If he’s your brother, he might be able to tell you everything we want to know. What happened to him, to your father, and how your mother died.”

  “I know how my mother died.” Pierce closed his eyes, tried to shake the image from his mind.

  Laurie lowered her voice. “We need to know the why behind the how—maybe there was something wrong with her, something that’s not wrong with me—so you won’t be scared I’ll die the same way.”

  She had just said aloud his biggest obstacle. That when she went into labor, he would stand helplessly beside her, unable to do anything except watch her die, as he had his own mother.

  Daddy hadn’t helped Mama. He had turned his back on her when she needed him most. When she called his name again and again. “Luther. Luther!”

  Yes, Pierce’s fear was irrational; it didn’t make sense in light of technology and reality and every other piece of common sense or fact he could think of. Still, it had control. After all he’d remembered, all he’d told Laurie, everything he’d discovered and discussed with Eric—fear spoke loud and clear: Run. Escape. Hide.

  Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

  “I want to be free, Laurie. But I don’t know how many more steps I have to take, or how to take them.”

  Laurie bracketed his face with her hands. “Pierce, open your eyes. Look at me.”

  He complied.

  “I am so proud of you. When our daughter gets old enough to understand, I want to tell her what a brave, godly father she has.”

  “I don’t feel brave. I feel desperate.”

  “Just take the next right step, Pierce.”

  “Right,” he said. “I have to go meet my brother.”

  ***

  Laurie wanted so badly to go with Pierce, she almost couldn’t keep from demanding he let her accompany him. But something inside her knew he needed to meet with his brother alone. She didn’t like it, but she knew it to be true.

  And what was she to do with herself after she prayed with him, prayed over him as he drove away from their home?

  How she wished her mother was near. Or at least available via phone.

  Kay. Laurie dialed her mother-in-law and got voicemail. Pierce had probably called them as soon as he left.

  She walked down the hall to her bedroom and lay on her side. Despite her husband’s fragile emotions, he continued to take baby steps every day. Still, how tentative those baby steps were.

  Dear God, couldn’t he have a little more time to get stronger? More sure of himself before he faced John?

  She’d thought they could simply concentrate on healing now. Rebuild. Continue their counseling with Eric, yes, but focus on each other, on their child.

  Lord, I’m trying to trust You. Couldn’t we have more than an hour to rejoice over having a daughter?

  She reached for her Bible. Opened again to Philippians 4:8. Whatever is true.

  Had her ideas and expectations—about marriage, about starting a family, her pregnancy—been based on misperceptions? In some ways, lies?

  You’ve measured every life event against those expectations, much as Pierce measured every life event against his past.

  No wonder her disappointment was so profound. And she’d fussed at God, hadn’t she. Fussed at Him because her life experience didn’t meet those Laurie-invented expectations.

  Dear Heavenly Father, I’m sorry. I know I need to give You my future, but I find that, just like Pierce, I’m afraid of what might be asked of me. Please, no matter what Pierce does, no matter what happens, help me do the next right thing.

  She dialed Kay again, and this time reached her mother-in-law. “Mom? I think I just discovered something about myself. I need to ask your opinion.”

  ***

  Pierce flexed his hands on the steering wheel as he drove to the Downtown Diner to meet his brother—the “cute new doctor”—again. How weird was that?

  During the sonogram, time had moved as slowly as thick molasses. The long moments coated with sweetness had spread, one after the other in a beautiful, long line. He had savored them, knowing he could hold onto them when life became difficult.

  But he hadn’t expected the difficulty to come so quickly, or to be of such monumental importance.

  Was he thankful or sad he hadn’t recognized his father and brother on Sunday? He had noticed them, but he hadn’t “known” them. They left as the service ended without him learning their names.

  Which might have been a good thing.

  Sunday wasn’t the right time.

  This morning Pierce had been in the same small room with John. Yet he’d felt no connection to the man.

  This morning wasn’t the right time, either.

  No, the time was now. In the next two minutes.

  Yet a part of him wished time would stand still. He wanted more minutes before seeing his brother, thinking anymore about his father, and becoming a father himself.

  Pierce pulled into a parking space and adjusted the sunglasses he hoped would provide a minuscule amount of privacy. Heaven only kne
w how many people would be at the diner, watching.

  He didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t think about it.

  He walked to the glass door. The familiar smell of grease, burgers, and fries, the expected clang of silverware against dishes and counters as patrons consumed their meals, all were muted by the nerves jangling in his head.

  Before he realized it, Milly Newman blocked his path. “Do you know what the baby is yet?” She clapped her hands together. “I’ve got to call Laurie and plan her baby shower!”

  Mr. Newman stood military-stiff behind his chair, tossed bills on the table. “Milly, let the man eat.”

  She hugged him. “Sorry, Pastor. We’re all so excited and happy for you.”

  She let him pass, but he knew others watched and wondered why Daniel wasn’t meeting him for their usual Tuesday lunch.

  Pierce stopped at the end of the booth. John stood and extended his hand. “Pierce, thanks for meeting me.”

  “Sure.”

  He supposed he expected a shock at the offered contact, but his hand met his brother’s without event. A small step.

  He should … sit.

  He sat.

  They should … talk.

  “Laurie says hi.” Could he possibly sound more ridiculous?

  “She seems like a great lady.”

  Silence stretched. The waitress approached with two small glasses of water in hand, took their orders, and left.

  He could do this. He could do this.

  “You married?”

  “No. Almost, once. But no.”

  Okay. What now?

  “Sorry, but I only have a short time before the next patient.” John shifted in his seat. “Have you had a good life?”

  How to answer that, when he was only beginning to recognize it himself? “Yes. Yes, my life is great.”

  “Because of Laurie?”

  Pierce gulped his water. “Yes. Laurie.”

  “I didn’t know you existed until a short time ago. Did you know Mr. and Mrs. Taylor?”

  Mrs. Taylor. Kind woman, quiet, who came to help when Mama died. She packed the paper sack with clothes, and bread wrapped in napkins. “I remember them.”