***
Laurie turned off the shower. A second later, the house shuddered, the unmistakable ripple of the front door opening and closing.
She stood in the tub in silence, knowing the house was empty, knowing she was alone except for the child she carried. Had Pierce gone to his woods to pray?
A chill forced her from the damp enclosure. In the steam, she donned a robe and sat on the lowered commode lid and tried to calm her pitching stomach. She slowly dried her hair and gingerly brushed her teeth to remove the bitter taste of vomit.
The doorbell rang. As she opened the bathroom door, a piece of paper flitted across the floor; she grabbed it, and headed for the front of the house. Her in-laws stood on her front porch.
She opened the door. “Mom, Dad, what’s going on?”
Daniel hugged her, released her.
Kay hugged her, and held on. “Good. You found the note. No arguments, we’re staying with you. No matter how long this takes.”
“What?”
Her eyes scanned the paper in her hand.
Ina Hood died … funeral … called my parents … flying to Florida …
But the last two lines most caught her attention.
I don’t know what the future holds for me. I don’t think I can be what you want and need.
Pierce had indeed left her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Pierce was thirty-five thousand feet above the earth, and he had never been lower in his life.
The short flight took a quick curve over the Gulf of Mexico and down the Florida peninsula to Orlando. He drove the rental car to Pastor Hammond’s home and arrived as the entire family—all eight of them—shared their evening meal.
He had known Isaac and Ella Hammond since beginning his pastoral internship at their church. Back then there hadn’t been quite so many of them in this mid-sized home. Over the years their brood had grown, yet the couple had obviously kept their relationship strong, their love fresh. On more than one occasion he wondered how they accomplished it.
“Pierce, how good to see you!” Ella hugged him tight as Isaac approached from his other side.
“Ella, you look great. Isaac.”
“I’ve got the key to the apartment at Ina’s. But you’re welcome to stay with us and visit for a while.”
“Sure,” he said, though he didn’t know why.
Ella tugged on his arm. “Come on. I’ll fix you a plate.”
He didn’t feel hungry, but he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. He followed her to the kitchen and picked at the plate she sat before him. After the meal, one by one the children left the kitchen.
“How do you do it? Keep up with them all?”
Ella smiled. “They’re ours.”
Isaac reached for his wife’s hand. “You’ll be getting a crash course soon enough. That first one changes your world, your focus.” He raised his wife’s hand to his lips, gently kissed it. “Until you become a parent, you really don’t know what love is.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that way for me.”
Ella raised an eyebrow at Isaac, then rose. “Coffee, Pierce? Dessert?”
“No, thanks.”
“Honey?”
“Did the kids eat all the ice cream?”
She opened the freezer. “Looks like we’ll get the last of it.” She set three bowls on the table and seated herself across from Pierce again as Isaac turned to him.
“Want to talk about it?”
Where to begin? Maybe the end. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a pastor.”
“You’ve prayed about this?”
Pierce didn’t respond.
Ella shifted in her chair. “Why?”
“I just learned something about myself, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“What does Laurie say?” Ella prodded.
Isaac gave her a look that said, Easy, honey, easy.
Ella smiled sweetly. “Well?”
“Look. I know you both mean well, but a Band-Aid won’t fix this. She’s thinking I’m a jerk and a coward.” He pretty much agreed with her. “My congregation deserves a better pastor. Laurie definitely deserves a better husband.”
“What if I told you that no problem you have is too big for God? You’d laugh, right? It’s what I’m supposed to say. You’ve told others; you’ve preached it. You’ve prayed with people who were devastated, encouraged them, told them God would work everything out.”
Isaac leaned back in his chair, polished his spoon with a napkin, and continued. “One of the biggest problems of being a minister, a Christian for that matter, is if you’ve been one long enough, you know all the answers.” He set his spoon beside his now empty bowl and leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Or you think you do, until something comes along that flattens you, leaves you lying in the dust with a big, fat footprint on your head. Until then, all you’ve done is repeat what you’ve studied. Only after facing your own battles can you truly empathize with others and minister from the heart instead of from some book or sermon you memorized.”
Pierce pushed his bowl away. “Are you telling me God’s allowing this, this, trial, so He can use it to help me minister to others? That’s a crock and you know it.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “No. I’m telling you that life is hard. Stuff happens. Trouble is always present, and God is always there. He always has enough, always is enough to help you overcome anything, so the hard stuff doesn’t control your life.”
Pierce stood, then paced, shaking an index finger at Isaac. “See? See? That’s where you’re wrong.” He didn’t want to be rude to his friend, but … “He doesn’t always help.”
“What help did you ask for that you didn’t get?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Did you know that Ella is my second wife?”
Pierce stopped and grasped the back of his chair.
“Get your attention? At twenty-one, I married a beautiful, petite blonde named Paige. We were so in love, or so I thought. Her dad owned a mortgage company and was training me as a loan officer. I thought we had it made. She got pregnant. Long story short, I was thrilled but she wasn’t. Turns out, she didn’t want to be a wife or a mother, or even alive for that matter. Instead of having the baby and letting me keep the child, she killed herself, taking my baby with her.”
Pierce watched Ella take Isaac’s hand, and remembered all the times Laurie had taken his, in love, in support, in comfort, or play. How much he would lose if he lost her.
“How did you get over it?”
“I don’t think you ever get completely over something like that. But it’s God’s love through Ella and my children—not amnesia or forgetting what happened—that helps heal me every day. Whatever you and Laurie are going through right now, you need to know that she is not the enemy. Sometimes God heals you through a person, and the life the two of you live together day in and day out.”
Ella got up and stood beside Pierce, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Pierce, why don’t you tell us what this is all about? I tell my children that if I don’t know what’s wrong, I can’t help fix it. But if you tell me, I might be old enough, smart enough, to know something that will help.”
The refrigerator hummed. The clock on the wall ticked.
Something cracked inside him. Suddenly he wanted to tell them. Isaac had been his first mentor, Ella had always looked after him and Laurie. And they had nothing to do with Alabama or his childhood.
“After Laurie’s miscarriage here in Florida, a nightmare I’ve had all my life became more frequent. The same dream, when my birth father sent me away to live with the Cranes. After we moved, I’ve had more dreams, which are really bits of memories.”
He grabbed Ella’s hand on his shoulder. “Then we learned Laurie was pregnant. I couldn’t figure out why I was so afraid. At first, I thought it was because of the miscarriage. But then, what, two days ago? I remembered my mother’s death.”
The words came like an avalanche. He’d
not watched Laurie’s expression when he told her his story. He couldn’t. It was too horrifying and he could barely get the words out as he described the sounds, the sights, the smells.
This was harder, telling it now to these friends. Seeing their faces, hearing Ella’s breath catch, watching Isaac shake his head in compassion as he ended with his ride on the bus.
Pierce crumbled, curling up in his seat.
Here was pain he had never imagined. Slicing, searing pain that scorched his lungs and blacked out the edges of his vision. If sorrow could kill, surely he had just taken his last breath.
“After going to live with the Cranes, I was thankful everyday for my new home, my new parents,” Pierce whispered. He took a deep breath and hung his head. “I was happy—Laurie and I were happy—before the memories surfaced. Now I’m not sure I know who I am. Or who God is. I don’t like the questions I have when I think about Him. And I’m paralyzed thinking of Laurie having my child. What kind of Christian and husband and pastor does that make me?”
“Quit thinking about Him and keep talking to Him,” Ella encouraged.
“The kind of trauma you faced can leave deep wounds,” Isaac said. “You can refuse to deal with the memories, and you’ll feel the same as you do now. Day after day. But if you want to hold on to Laurie and your love, if you want to hold on to God, you have to do it with both hands. Which means you have to let go of something else.”
Pierce looked up at his friends. “My head’s messed up, Isaac. I’m completely broken. I’ve wounded Laurie and I’ve been really stupid.”
“Mostly, you’ve been hurting,” Isaac said. “I’m curious. What did you preach about on Easter Sunday?”
“Change. How change is needed for breakthrough.”
“I’m guessing you used the passages about the Crucifixion. You should read them again, Pierce. Did you forget that our Lord was broken first?”
***
Our Lord was broken first. Our Lord, was broken first.
Pierce’s heart beat hard in his chest as he drove through dark, dormant Orlando streets to the apartment over Ina’s garage. He entered, flicked on the light, and remembered bringing Laurie to live here right after the miscarriage.
He sank to the floor, right there inside the door. His whole body ached as if he’d been beaten.
He’d been so scared when he knew his father was taking him away. So scared of what lay ahead.
But even worse was the rejection. The one person other than his mother he thought he could depend on, had betrayed him.
He grabbed his computer from his suitcase, accessed the Book of Matthew and read as Isaac had advised.
Afraid. Rejected. Betrayed. He’d missed it. He’d totally missed it.
He’d seen the change, seen the benefits of Christ’s work, but he’d overlooked the brokenness that preceded it.
You asked me for change.
He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness.
Now Pierce understood. The scripture wasn’t a threat, it held a promise. Everything that hid in darkness—even the darkness inside himself—would most assuredly be brought into the light.
Yes, he was broken. He’d always been broken. He’d simply been ignorant of that brokenness.
But being broken was the prerequisite to being changed.
He’d been ashamed of his brokenness. Ashamed of his pain. As if mistreatment by others somehow devalued him and made him less.
The shame became his prison. Keeping him in, and keeping others like Laurie out.
The fear, a whip. Fear is about punishment. Fear brings torment.
And he’d buckled. He’d buckled and cowered in the corner as if the remembering was an evil thing. He’d swallowed the lie that, since remembering caused pain, it must be bad.
He set aside his computer and lay face down on the cool ceramic tile.
“I repent.” The words bubbled from his heart like acid and scorched his throat. “Dear God, I repent. I should have known better. I know scripture, I knew this. But just like Isaac said, it wasn’t real yet inside me.”
He’d tried to figure out what was happening on his own, through research and reason. He’d tried to control his emotions with determination and willpower.
“I let fear punish me. I let it torment me. I let it slant the way I looked at my life, my marriage, and my ministry.
“I want this change. I want it. However you’ll give it to me.”
The weight was lifting.
More relief. Pierce wanted more.
“I give you everything, God. My past. Stuff I haven’t remembered yet. All the hurt I don’t even know is there.”
And a clean, refreshing presence filled the room.
“Take my fear. Fear I don’t even know I have.”
He raised to his knees. Lifted his hands.
His heart cramped and tears flowed. Lips trembling, he whispered. “Have thine own way, Lord, have thine own way. Thou art the potter, I am the clay …”
***
Pierce woke on the floor. But this time was different. He’d sung himself to sleep inside the apartment doorway. He had a kink in his neck, but his spirit was lighter than it had been in months.
He sat up. Checked the time. Three-thirty a.m. was not the time to call Laurie.
Who would have thought that now, after almost eight years of marriage, he’d be trying to win her back.
He stood. Love for his precious wife burst through him. He refused to give up and let her go. The desire to love her, to make her smile surged through his system, as if shocking his heart back to life.
But having left the way he did, how could he reach her? How could he begin to understand all the damage he’d caused?
The journal.
He dug the notebook out of his suitcase, stretched out on the couch, and opened to the first page.
***
Dear Pierce,
I’ve been praying about what you told me, trying to figure things out. I don’t think it’s the memories that cause you problems; it’s how they make you feel and how you think because of them.
You can’t see beauty in my delivering our child, so you won’t participate in the pregnancy with me. You pushed me away and pulled away from me at a time when we should be rejoicing over a miracle. I know you’re in agony. I don’t pretend to know the depth of it, but if you won’t talk to me, how is there any future for us? Please talk to me.
***
Hi, honey.
It’s early afternoon and a sunny rain shower has just stopped. It made me think of the day we met. Do you remember?
I was running to my dorm when a quick rain burst from the sky. You pulled me and my roommate Shawnie under the overhang outside the cafeteria. There was barely enough room for two, so you stood at the edge while a stream of water from a leaky gutter filled your backpack and ran down the back of your pants into your sneakers. I can still hear the squish-squish sound as you walked me to my room under a beautiful rainbow. Your books were ruined. Are we ruined now, too?
***
Dear God, I’m feeling the baby move regularly now. Pierce has only felt it once. When he did, he jumped away from me, repulsed and horrified. How could that look on his face come from feeling our baby? Every time I think I don’t have any tears left, more come. I love our baby. And I love Pierce.
How can a miracle cost me my marriage?
***
Pierce read page after page, over and over, until he thought his eyes might bleed. Memorizing parts and pieces, tucking them inside his own breaking heart and re-learning Laurie’s. Her tender, soft, compassionate heart, which he had fallen in love with long ago and depended on over the years. Knowing he had crushed that precious heart left him horribly ashamed.
“Dear God, I’ve been so messed up. And I’ve messed up so many things, I probably don’t see them all.”
He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
“Father,
wash my mind where these memories live, and my heart where my love for Laurie lives. Make my love for her strong enough. Help me depend on Your Spirit enough to do whatever You ask to fix my marriage and to heal.”
He set his alarm to call Laurie later that morning and fell asleep clutching her journal to his chest.
***
Laurie poured herself a cup of coffee.
Stars still twinkled outside her kitchen window as if everything in the world was as it should be. She stood in the silence, in the almost dark of the last minutes of night, and watched the sun begin its slow, determined rise.
Wouldn’t it be nice if she—like the sun—knew exactly what she should do, and exactly how to do it? Should she look for a job, in case Pierce didn’t return? Look for an attorney, in case Pierce wanted a divorce? She knew women, Christian women, who’d dissolved their marriages when faced with less than what she and Pierce now faced. What if, deep down, Pierce wasn’t as committed to their marriage as she? He’d already left her in every way that mattered. His going to Florida was merely a geographical manifestation of the condition of their marriage.
She heard Daniel groan from the sleeper sofa bed in the living room.
“What time is it?” he said.
“Quiet,” Kay answered. “Time for me to get out of this bed.”
“Sorry excuse for a bed, you mean. I might not be able to stand up straight until Wednesday of next week. I smell coffee. I need coffee.”
“Then you better start trying to stand up now, because we’ve got stuff to do today.” A quick smack of lips. “We’re making Laurie breakfast.”
When Kay rounded the corner, Laurie raised her mug. “Sorry, but it’s decaf.”
“He’ll live,” she said. “Sit, Laurie. I’ll make French toast and bacon.”
“Standing’s better for me right now.” If she sat, she might never move forward in her life again.
Daniel trudged to the table to sit. “Did I hear someone say bacon?”
Kay set two pans on the stove. “Some help you are.”
“I’m here for moral support.”
“You’re a mess is what you are.”
“Yes, but I’m cute.”
The Spindle Chair Page 13
