Homefires (48 page)

Kirk’s arms felt so wonderful wrapped tightly around me, shifting and squeezing as though hunting more to consume. His cheeks and lips caressed every inch of my face and neck in the first moments of our greeting. This, of course, after the kids scattered to sniff out home turf and phone friends.

We’d left for home immediately after visiting Chuck, arriving late afternoon, near evening church time. Toby immediately hopped on his bike and sped out the white sandy road that wound through the cemetery, private and perfect for him to blow out restlessness accumulated on the four-hour drive.

Kirk had pulled me into our room, kicked the door shut with his heel and sniffed out
me, his
turf. Now, he gazed into my eyes as though seeing me for the very first time. It took my breath, his passion. Like the young Kirk I’d parked with at Silver Lake. It sent a shiver of excitement over me, mingled with a tinge of apprehension. Of what, I wasn’t certain.

“Honey,” he said huskily, one big hand brushing hair from my cheek, his green gaze roaming desperately over my features, “Please, don’t
ever
be gone from me like that again...for that long.”

I pressed my face to his and inhaled, absorbed him. “Okay.”

I floated through service that evening, warmed by Kirk’s apparent need. A need that fed the benevolent-me, the one who thrived on giving.

“How was Mama?” Callie asked me immediately following the benediction. We stood in the vestibule, near Kirk, who’d kept me within whispering distance since my return. He was talking with Charlie and Kaye Tessner.

“She was beautiful, Callie.” I enjoyed seeing her chocolate eyes light up at my compliment. A sincere one. I’d discovered, overnight, that beauty goes way beyond skin or color or shape. Or hair texture. Beauty is spiritual
essence.
Not necessarily religious. Though it can be. I hugged Callie hugely and whispered in her ear, “Your mom said to pass this on to you.”

I saw tears in her eyes when I released her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I said gently.

“It’s not – you didn’t. I just miss Mama. She’s not well. I know you noticed. And things around here haven’t – ” She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes upward to stem tears, but they gathered anyway, forcing her to step to the foyer table and snatch a tissue from the ever present box there.

“What?” I asked, perplexed. “Things haven’t been going right here?”

She took her time wiping away tears and blowing her nose. I noticed the Tessners leaving at the conclusion of Charlie’s hilarious golf joke. Kirk, still chuckling, joined us.

I raised my eyebrows at Callie, who seemed deep in thought, faraway.

Kirk, too, watched her. Curiously – concerned, I was certain, that her face was red from tears.

“Well,” she straightened her shoulders and face, smiled and hugged me again. “Gotta go. Haven’t had dinner.”

I grabbed her sleeve as she turned away. “Come home with me and – ”

Her head already moved decisively from side to side. “Nope. Thanks, anyway, hon. Gonna go curl up with my kitty cat Ginger, eat a banana and peanut butter sandwich and turn in.”

“‘Night, ya’ll,” she tossed over her shoulder on the way out.

“What’s wrong with Cal?” Kirk’s query was low-key, quiet.

“She’s worried about her Mama, is all,” I said, wondering if that was
all
.

We were silent on the short walk home. After we snacked and retired to our bedroom, we remained so. Our lovemaking swept me back to when we first married. Fresh and thorough and
right.
A complete giving of ourselves to each other. Afterward, we spooned together, Kirk’s arms encircling me like a warm vise.

Could my being away have triggered this –
intensity
in Kirk?

As I drifted off, his plaintive plea floated through my mind...
Please, don’t ever leave me like that again...not that long.

I won’t, Kirk.
I burrowed my hind parts even cozier against him.
I promise.

Happiness filled and buoyed me and floated me into twilight. My last conscious thought was a buoyant, fuzzy
Kirk needs me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The nightmare of Moose’s disappearance was a thing we dealt with day by day, minute by minute. Kirk bore the burden of grief heavily. Not only his, but Roxie’s as well. Hers was a constant clawing distress that demanded my husband’s solace.

Before Chuck’s health crisis, I’d barely stayed ahead of the nipping-at-the-heels sensation Roxie generated. Not my heels. Kirk’s. My husband’s. Before being away, I couldn’t put my feelings into words, but since coming back from my brother’s bedside, I had no such problem.

“Callie,” I said, facing her across her receptionist’s desk outside the empty pastor’s office, “am I being foolish? For gosh sakes, it’s just
Roxie.
Flaky, silly Roxie.” I shrugged dismally. “I get these weird butterflies in my stomach when she gets near Kirk. Like – ” I took a deep huff of air and blew it out, “like
fear.
Sorta. Jealousy?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s stupid, isn’t it?”

Callie, solemn and closed-faced until now, sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “No. It’s not stupid at all.”

I gazed at her. This time, the thing that leaped through me was no mystery. It
was
fear. Callie saw it and tried to soften her features. “That’s – ” She stopped, gazed at the window for long moments, during which my heart stopped a dozen times before her brown eyes met mine. “Neecy – Roxie is after your husband.”

A physical force slammed my midriff, taking my breath. “Cal...why do you say that?” The words seemed to come from afar as emotions pummeled and disjointed me.

Callie started to say something then thought better. She continued to watch me as if weighing something precious. Finally, she said, “Neecy, I just think you need to keep your eye on things. Kirk’s up against something potent.”

“Potent?” I whispered and was on my feet, as in run.

“Aww, Neecy,” she leaped to her feet and rushed around the desk to gather me in her arms. “I don’t want to hurt you. Wouldn’t hurt you for anything.” Then she was shaking, holding me to her like I was a life raft or something. I pushed back and gazed into her face. She was crying.

“Don’t, Cal.” Don’t.
Please don’t let it be something I don’t want to know.

“I’m sorry....” She slapped her hands to her face as tears streamed down her lovely cheeks, peering at me over them with enormous chocolate
watering
eyes. Eyes that pitied me. She’s
sorry....

For what? I don’t want to know.
Please don’t tell me
. Why had my body gone numb? Where was the floor? I didn’t know I was weaving till Callie caught hold of me. “Here, sit down, Neecy,” she said gently. “Don’t pay me any attention.” She seated me and rubbed my hands, trying to give them warmth. “You know me, Neecy, ol’ motor mouth Cal. Always thinking the worst....”

The worst. What exactly
was the worst?

“What happened while I was gone, Cal?” I spoke through lifeless lips.

The question seemed to stun her. Her head moved from side to side. “Nothing, Neecy.
Nothing.”
She gripped my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake. “Nothing.”

Footsteps. Kirk appeared in the doorway. “Hey. What’s up?”

Then he saw me. “What’s wrong, honey?” Instantly, he dropped to his knees beside me and took my hands. “You sick?”

His voice was so loving, so concerned, I began to cry, then sob. Quietly, actually, but with such momentum I heaved until nearly blue then came up with a gasp and plunged into the next one. A reflexive thing. One I could not have stopped for the life of me. I was in the grasp of Hell itself. Only Kirk’s touch reached my soul. His soft voice. His concern.

Then, I was standing against him, in his arms, my face burrowed into his neck. “What happened?” I heard him ask Callie.

“She asked about Roxie.” The statement was flat.

“What about Roxie?” Flat, too.

“Just – she felt Roxie has crossed over a line – that she’s chasing you.”

Kirk’s arms squeezed me tighter as he gazed at Callie. So tightly I couldn’t have moved had I tried, which I didn’t. As long as my face connected to the warmth of his neck, felt his heartbeat, his energy, smelled his essence, I felt safe. “What did
you say to her?” Kirk’s question was almost casual. But I felt his tension.

The flailing inside me commenced again.

A long silence. “Look – you need to talk to her, Kirk. It’s not my place.”

“Your place to
what?
” Was his question a challenge?

I heard Callie move quickly to the door. “Sorry, Kirk. This is your thing.” Her footsteps abruptly faded into the sanctuary and out the vestibule. The front door closed firmly.

Thing?
I felt the impact of sickening panic building again and stiffened. The arms resisted my pulling away. Held me like a vise. “Stay here, honey,” he whispered. “Let me love you.”

I relaxed against him because I had no other choice. Kirk was my world.

He held me up until I gained enough strength to walk home with him. There, he gently undressed me and slid into bed beside me, lay touching me, his leg linked protectively with mine.

“Kirk?” I turned my face to his in the darkness. “Is there something between you and Roxie?”

I felt his gaze. “If you mean other than a pastor and flock member, no.”

I stared at the ceiling for long moments trying to believe that. Belief did not take. I had to know. Suddenly, I had to know for sure. I sat up in bed, reached to turn on my bedside lamp, then resettled beside him where I could see his face. It looked as miserable as I felt.

“Kirk,” I said slowly, gathering strength, “I want to know the truth. Is what you told me the truth?’

He gazed at me for long moments as I searched his features for signs of honesty – or dishonesty. What I saw was a man who wanted desperately to help his wife. I could not rely on reading his features because, in crisis, Kirk’s shuttered. I had to trust his word.

“Are you telling me the truth.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Only a heartbeat movement. Then it was gone.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m telling you the truth.”

Papa died suddenly the next week of a heart attack. Kirk, the children and I drove to Asheville, to the funeral. Daddy and Anne came, too. MawMaw wept on my shoulder, moaning, “I’m gonna have to depend on you’uns, Neecy. It’s gonna be hard without Papa, honey. Please...try to come as much as you can to see me. I need you now.”

It broke my heart to lose my jolly-clown, laughing Papa, who’d loved me so much. And it broke my heart to see my feisty little MawMaw so broken. She, the family backbone, now needed
me.
“I won’t let you down, MawMaw,” I whispered and kissed her wet cheek.

Gabe took Papa’s death hard. Because of diabetes, Gabe had not been able to sire children and it was particularly devastating to lose such a significant other as his lively, fun-loving father.

When we went back to MawMaw’s after the Pentecostal service and burial, the small house overflowed with church folk and kin. Daddy spoke to MawMaw, took her hand and tried to comfort her. She accepted his words with only a hint of wariness. It warmed me to see them communicate at last. Daddy then cornered me and took my hand. “You okay, Neecy?” he asked softly.

I nodded firmly. “Yes. Why?”

“You look – worried. Are you losing weight?” His gaze swept my features as they had throughout my life, seeing more, sensing more than I wanted.

“I’ve just been busy. And Papa’s death has hit me hard.”
Among other things. Things I still face.
Things I’d rather
die
than Daddy find out. I resolutely pushed away the thought.

He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me up to his side. “I know, honey. You loved him a lot, didn’t you?”

I nodded, my eyes puddling. Daddy pulled me into his arms.

It came late. Too late for Papa to know. But not too late for me to know.

Daddy cared.