The Spindle Chair

by Shellie Arnold

  “Yes, and—”

  “I’m asking you to acknowledge that I wasn’t trying to put distance between us.”

  She turned to him. “But Pierce—”

  He kissed her softly then pressed his forehead to hers. “Do you remember why Eric encouraged us to learn the truth about my past? Do you remember what you said to me? That maybe some of my pain was based on lies.

  “I’m trying to let the truth do what Jesus promised. Set me free. I’m trying to let the images of a cruel father’s rejection be replaced with a caring father’s decision. He hurt me back then. He may not have meant to, but he did. Knowing that helps it not hurt so badly now. Since I wasn’t trying to pull away from you, and I did tell you when I was ready, can’t you do the same? Can’t you step back and let some of it go?”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes as the sea breeze tousled his hair. A part of her—the snarky part—told her he was getting away with something. She told that part to hush and shoved it aside. Why waste their time alone?

  “It’s a misunderstanding, Laurie. I wasn’t hiding things from you. I was thinking, and I was praying.” He kissed her again. “Please understand. I was trying to stand on my own two feet. Work with God myself, like I’ve seen you do to love me these past months.”

  “Like you’ve seen me do.” Shivers jolted along her spine as he nibbled her lips. Her breath caught.

  He grinned. “You’re my hero.”

  “Your hero.” She strained to keep herself from laughing. “In maternity clothes.”

  He wiggled his brow. “And out.”

  Her laugh rang out, then stupid, stupid tears filled her eyes. Would she be pregnant forever? Part of her almost wanted it to last longer, to give Pierce more time to deal with his past, but—

  “My feet ache. They’re swollen, and I have to wear soft, ugly shoes.”

  “Okay. You’re my hero even though you have swollen feet?”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Stretch marks have exploded across my stomach. My skin has reached its limit. Overnight. And I crave Snickers bars. I might actually kill for them. And fish sticks. Who in their right mind craves fish sticks?”

  “I don’t think it’s a question of ‘right mind,’ I think it’s just being pregnant.”

  “I’m gaining weight by the second. I’ll be wearing tents by the time our baby is born. Ugly, flapping tents special ordered from some tentmaker.” She sniffed and leaned against him. He put his arms around her. “I’ve been really trying to be loving and sweet and understanding.”

  “You have been. You are.”

  “I don’t think I can be much longer. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore.” She laughed again, wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. “There. I said it.”

  “I think every pregnant woman does at least once, right?”

  “Probably. I’ll be a terrible mother, eating Snickers bars and fish sticks. Our daughter’s life is ruined.”

  “At least we’ll know what caused it.”

  She laughed again. “I’m glad you’re praying about the dreams and figuring them out. But I think my extra-sensitive, pregnant feelings are still a little bruised.”

  “Let’s go check in, and I’ll apologize over and over and over again.”

  ***

  The room was divine, with its soft turquoise walls, whitewashed wicker furniture, and textured seashell pillows. The weather, perfect. Laurie couldn’t have asked for better.

  In dazzling morning light they strolled along a shore left bare by the outgoing tide.

  At midday, when hot storms rolled in to wash the heavy sea breeze farther inland, they fixed sandwiches in their kitchenette and ate in their room, where they laughed, and talked to Hope, and made love.

  By early evening, after dozing and whispering sweet plans against each other’s skin, they wandered to the water again. They strolled through the sand to Okey’s On the Water restaurant, and enjoyed a nightly seafood buffet with fried hushpuppies. Laurie ate them like candy.

  Since the classic movie channel featured Jerry Lewis all week, they got dessert to go, scurried back to the room like anxious teenagers, and ate gooey wedges of chocolate-chocolate-chip cake topped with warm fudge icing. They laughed at the absurd antics in Cinderfella and The Disorderly Orderly. They made love again and drifted to sleep without setting the alarm.

  A vacation from life, Laurie thought more than once. No pastoral responsibilities or doctor appointments, no constant reminders of John, Luther, and the distressing first few months of her pregnancy. They simply had fun.

  On the fourth night, she pulled Pierce’s arm around her as she always did.

  God, thank You for this. We needed this. I needed this.

  “Pierce?”

  “Yes,” he whispered against her neck.

  “I’ll be asleep in two seconds. I love you. If we can stay close like this, I’ll be as happy as I could ever be.”

  He kissed her shoulder. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

  Later, Laurie woke in darkness, her mind registering a little insistent pinch like school children give each other on St. Patrick’s Day. Something was wrong.

  Then she felt the dampness between her legs.

  She yanked back the covers, flipped on the bedside table lamp, and saw the dark red stain where her hips had been.

  Pierce’s eyes were still closed, lips smiling as he asked, “You okay?”

  She couldn’t hold back the tears as her heart and mouth sputtered.

  “I’m bleeding.”

  ***

  The small, local hospital stood only a few miles away, but Pierce couldn’t get there fast enough. He drove through the gray streets, passing rows of street lamps, watching for signs and swallowing bile. Laurie lay helplessly in the back seat. No matter what, he would be strong for her.

  He knew she was crying, praying, and willing their child to live. As he reached over the seat for her hand, he did the same.

  He pulled right into the emergency room’s ambulance bay, screeched to a stop. “Don’t move. I’ll get somebody.” He ignored the No Admittance signs on the double doors, barreled through and into a human wall of security officers.

  “Sir, you can’t park there.”

  “My wife. She’s pregnant. She’s bleeding.” He grabbed a nearby wheelchair.

  One of the officers called back over his shoulder. “Mary Rae, we got a mama in trouble!” The ensuing flurry of activity was incredible. Last time Pierce had taken her to an ER, he’d carried her bleeding body inside, begging for help as he went. This time he was shoved aside and could only watch.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Laurie Crane.”

  “Mrs. Crane, an OB is on the way. How far along are you? When did the bleeding start? Are you having any contractions?”

  They whisked her away. Mary Rae, a bustling drill sergeant of a nurse, ordered Pierce to sit in the chair directly in front of her desk. He sat and couldn’t help rocking himself. Oh, God. Oh, Jesus.

  Shivering from stress and adrenaline, he strained to hear Laurie, her voice, her cries, anything to reassure him that she and his child were still alive.

  ***

  Laurie hugged her belly, hugged her baby as they lifted her onto the bed.

  “Hope,” she begged as they stripped off her clothes. “Please save my Hope.” Tears streamed, filled her ears as she lay flat while nurses prodded.

  “Pressure 130 over 90.”

  “Lift your hips, Mrs. Crane. We need to get this monitoring belt on you.”

  The doctor burst in. “Mrs. Crane, when did the bleeding start?”

  “It woke me less than an hour ago.”

  “You were asleep?”

  She’d been dreaming of the baby. Holding the baby. Nursing the baby.

  God, I will love this baby if she has special needs, if she’s handicapped, just let her live. This can’t be another miscarriage. Can’t be just like Annabelle. Please, Heavenly Father.

 
“Mrs. Crane, were you asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any cramping or contractions?” He ran his gloved hands over her belly.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Is this your first pregnancy?”

  “No.” She told them about the previous miscarriage.

  A nurse secured a wide, black belt around her. “Fetal heart rate normal, sir.”

  “Okay. Let’s check her urine for amniotic fluid.”

  “What does that mean? Am I in labor?”

  “I need to do an exam, Mrs. Crane.”

  She nodded fiercely. “Yes. Anything. Please.”

  He completed the task, peeled off his gloves. The door opened and three more bodies in scrubs entered the room. Strangers surrounded her—a dozen hands touched her—but they didn’t speak to her, only to each other.

  “Please, someone tell me what’s happening.”

  A round woman with a raspy, colonel’s voice closed the door and cleared her throat. The mouths in the room hushed, bodies parted like the Red Sea. With hands on her hips she marched to Laurie’s side.

  “Mrs. Crane, I’m Mary Rae, ER Charge Nurse. Your exam was normal.” She threw a scathing glance at the doctor, turned on him. “Wasn’t it, doctor?”

  “There’s no indication she’s in labor.”

  “Here’s a pinch,” a voice said.

  Laurie winced as a nurse started an IV. “Please, where’s my husband?”

  Mary Rae answered. “He’s by my desk.” She smiled at Laurie, then lasered the doctor with her eyes. “And we’re going to explain everything that’s happening so you’ll know what’s going on.” Her voice became prim, and she batted her eyes at the physician. “Doctor, are you going to do a sonogram now? Check the placenta’s position?”

  The doctor was clearly perturbed at Mary Rae’s interference, but submitted to it. He leaned directly over Laurie, so close his breath touched her face. “Why are you so scared, Mrs. Crane? Have you had any other complications?”

  “Not this time. But like I said, I miscarried over a year ago. And, my husband’s mother bled to death while having her second child.”

  He turned his back on Mary Rae. “You’re no longer bleeding, Mrs. Crane.” He sighed and yawned wearily. “Listen. Let me do a sonogram, and we’ll set your mind at ease. Okay?”

  “And that’s your baby’s heartbeat.” Mary Rae waved her hand, indicating the soft whirring sound that Laurie could now hear. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

  Laurie gave a watery smile as her tears subsided. “A girl. We’re naming her Hope.”

  “Well, you’ll get to see how Hope’s growing and you’ll feel better. Now take deep breaths for me, try to calm yourself. You’re fine, your baby’s fine. You’re not contracting, this is not early labor, the bleeding’s stopped, and Hope’s heartbeat is strong. We couldn’t ask for better. Right, doctor?”

  The physician grumbled, barked at another nurse to watch where she stepped.

  Mary Rae huffed loudly. “Right, doctor?”

  “Correct.”

  “Good boy,” Mary Rae said and leaned down to Laurie’s ear. “Guess who just quit smoking and switched to decaffeinated coffee?”

  Laurie half-smiled at her. “My baby’s really okay?”

  Mary Rae nodded.

  “Thank you,” Laurie said. “Will you please tell my husband?”

  ***

  Pierce sat shaking. Mary Rae came by every few minutes, once with a warmed blanket, to give him updates on Laurie’s condition. Then she disappeared down halls and around corners through the maze of rooms. After several round trips, she returned and took his hand. “Mr. Crane, everything’s going to be all right. Come sit with your wife while she rests.” She patted his shoulder as she ushered him into a dull, quiet room.

  He followed her instructions, and sat beside the hospital bed where Laurie drifted in and out of sleep. He brought her hand to his cheek and pressed it there.

  God, this is too much. The bloodstain on the bed in their hotel room—just like the night his mother died.

  They’re not the same.

  No, but his mother had died.

  That’s what I said. They’re not the same.

  The toothpick-thin security guard who had first called for help, walked in and handed him a foam cup.

  “Mary Rae said to bring you some coffee.”

  Pierce tried to smile. “Thanks.”

  “It’s black, it’s hot. Not much more. Name’s Ed. First baby?”

  Pierce took a scalding sip. “Kinda.”

  Ed’s eyes flicked to Laurie. “Don’t get many couples in here like you two. Plain to see you love her.”

  Was love a big enough word? “She’s my life.”

  “Good. Just like me and my Mary Rae. Though God never blessed us with children. Do you know who’s giving you this baby, son?”

  Pierce almost laughed. “Yes, I do.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the nurse’s desk. “Does she boss you around at home?”

  “I let her think she does. Besides, she’s really cute in that old-timey nurse’s hat, ain’t she?” Ed opened the door. “Here comes the Doc.”

  They kept Laurie for observation, and tended Pierce like he was a patient, too.

  Mary Rae told Ed to bring a cot into Laurie’s room; he did.

  She told everyone else not to disturb them; they didn’t.

  So Pierce let Mary Rae tuck him in like a child, then he reached up for Laurie’s hand, and let the swish-swish lullaby of his daughter’s heartbeat ease him into sleep.

  He woke to the sound of muffled voices passing in the hall. Laurie slept on. He stepped out, closed the door behind him, and walked the long hall toward the nurse’s station, where Ed leaned against Mary Rae’s desk.

  Ed straightened. “Get a nap, young man?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “She still asleep?” Mary Rae asked.

  “She is.”

  Mary Rae stood and walked around to him, gave him a motherly pat and rub on his shoulder. “Stop worrying, Daddy. Ed, fill him in while I go check on our patient.”

  “Are they going to admit her?”

  “Naw. She’s gonna be fine, you just need to get that girl home.” Ed smacked his lips. “Mary Rae’s got you all fixed up. I’ve done been and picked up your stuff. My bride’s cousin works at your hotel and is married to the manager. One call got your belongings packed. I went off shift about an hour ago, scooted out and picked ’em up.” He pointed behind him with his thumb. “Everything’s in the security office. After she’s discharged, you can give me your key and hit the road.”

  Pierce looked away, humbled at the blatant kindness. “That’s quite a miracle you performed. How can I thank everyone?”

  “Send us a picture of that baby girl when she comes.”

  Pierce extended his hand. “I’ll do that.”

  Ed motioned with his head. “You better get back in there. Mary Rae’ll give you some orders about taking care of your bride.”

  He returned to the room, listened to Mary Rae’s instructions, then helped Laurie dress.

  In short order they had Laurie seated in a wheelchair for discharge. Pierce pulled their car up at a covered portico.

  “You take care of her and yourself.” Ed loaded their luggage into the trunk.

  “I sincerely appreciate all your help,” Pierce said.

  Laurie slid into the back seat and lay down.

  He drove away, toward their home and to Laurie’s doctor, his brother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Pierce, everything’s okay. I’m fine. Hope’s fine.” Laurie tried to reassure her husband as he drove. His technique oscillated between that of a near-sighted eighty-year-old, and a NASCAR driver.

  He answered with a grunt.

  The baby’s fine, she repeated to herself. “Did they get my earrings? My mom’s earrings? I left them on the nightstand.”

  “Mary Rae’s cousin found them. They’re wrappe
d in tissues, in a little plastic bag in our suitcase. Ed told me twice and had me say it back to him, because Mary Rae said she’d skin him if he didn’t.”

  She lifted her arm, reached over the back of the front seat to caress his neck while he drove. “Pierce. I really am okay. The baby, too. You saw the sonogram they did this morning. They’re just being careful.”

  Careful. She immediately regretted saying the word she’d used to describe Luther and Annabelle’s relationship after Pierce’s birth, when Luther avoided having more children.

  “The baby and I aren’t really in danger.”

  He shifted in the seat, as if uncomfortable with her light touch. “Laurie, I know what you’re trying to do. Just give me some time.”

  She thought she heard him whisper, “All that blood.”

  “What? Pierce, what did you say?”

  “I said I love you. Now please rest and let me drive. I can’t talk about this anymore right now.”

  ***

  In the global scheme of things, details like this didn’t normally affect Pierce. But this time, as he pulled into their driveway, he was certain God was laughing hysterically. Or at least winking in his direction.

  Their house had been painted. Green.

  It was a beautiful shade, if one could call the color green beautiful. Somewhere between olive and forest, much like the foliage of the woods where he so often walked and prayed. A richer, darker hue, covered the shutters, a soft cream accented the trim and porch. Their home now resembled a quaint, carefully tended dollhouse.

  Laurie met his eyes over the hood of their car. “How lovely. A little ironic, but very pretty.”

  Daniel and Kay descended the front porch steps and handed Pierce a note.

  “It’s from the church board.” Kay wrapped an arm around Laurie. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Daniel patted his shoulder. “They’ve got nothing but love for you, Pierce. Nothing but love.”

  He opened the note, read it for himself, then laughed derisively. “They want us to know that after much deliberation and discussion, the youth group settled on this color. It’s fade resistant, mildew resistant, liquid siding with a twenty-five year warranty, lovingly applied with an industrial sprayer by Gilbert and Angus Mann.” Pierce raised his head to meet Laurie’s laughing gaze. “We should never have to paint again.”