Walls of Jericho

Even without looking Claire could tell that her husband was grinning as he spoke. It made her want to poke him in the rib cage.

“But I’d probably hate every minute of it.”

Relief washed over Claire like a wave. “You had me worried for a minute.”

“Sorry. I didn’t intend to.” He kissed her softly, first at the hairline and then on the lips, gently. “You know I don’t like worrying you. You worry too much as it is.”

“Who, me?” Claire batted her eyelashes at him, watching him smile.

“You’re the queen of worriers.” But the words were teasing and familiar, making Claire smile.

She didn’t feel cold anymore. But she was getting sleepy. “Want to turn out the light?”

Ben’s answer was to reach his free arm over to the nightstand and find the lamp. In a moment they were in the dark, with only the crickets and peepers for company.

Did those stupid frogs ever shut up? Ben lay awake in the dark, listening to them. Every spring Claire could hardly wait to open the windows in the bedroom while they slept. For him, it was four to six weeks of aggravation. When the pollen wasn’t killing him, the frogs were keeping him up. Still, Ben didn’t have the heart to ask her to sleep with the windows shut all year round. He got his way most of the time. What were a couple of nights of rocky sleep?

Besides, if he were truly honest with himself, it wasn’t the frogs that were keeping him up tonight. It was Claire’s question, and the look on her face when he answered. For a minute there, he thought she was going to lose it.

This was one of those times when a polite lie would have been better than the truth. But polite lies had never been what he and Claire told each other. Not for things that really counted.

Of course, there were his business worries. But the store was his problem. Definitely not something he needed to share with his wife. A good accountant, maybe. But the conversation they had just had was something different.

Running it through his mind, he was still confused. Even his more complex answer wasn’t what Claire had wanted. What was she really asking, anyway? It was harder to figure out his beautiful wife than to figure out some of his customers at the store—even the ones who came in with half a part missing from something, having no idea what they were looking for.

She had looked so beautiful today. He’d been struck in the church hall, watching her talk to Hank and Gloria, how little she’d changed in twenty years. If he closed his eyes a little he could imagine that the woman across the hall was wearing white satin and his freshly bought ring.

Now there was one of the things he’d do differently if he could. He would have bought Claire a diamond to go with that skinny little gold band. Not that there had been many times when he could have afforded a diamond. Certainly none in the first ten years they were married. And not really now, either.

But she deserved the diamond. That was the kind of thing he was talking about. And if they’d waited to get married, would he really be running the store now? Yeah, probably by now. Thirty-five was ancient in pro football. But surely he would have gotten his chance for a couple of years. Between college and running the store there might have been somebody willing to pay the big bucks.

Claire could have her diamond. There’d be college savings accounts for the boys. Maybe even a new house in one of those subdivisions outside town where the doctors and lawyers all lived, instead of her parents’ house, which was older than him or Claire. Who could say?

So many facets of life might be different if he hadn’t talked Claire into getting married when they were both still teenagers. And how many things would be different if he hadn’t been somebody’s daddy before his twenty-first birthday? Not that he had anybody to blame for that but himself. Trent had been as big a surprise to Claire as he had been to Ben. They both adored him, and Kyle, too. The boys were great. Still, Ben had to wonder what life would be like without kids, or at least without kids so early.

Claire slept peacefully beside him. He listened to her even breathing, felt the soft exhalations near his arm. She was so sweet, so lovely that it didn’t seem like twenty years could have passed since their first date in high school. Wasn’t she still a freshman?

Ben shook his head. No, afraid not. Their oldest son had just finished freshman year. And Ben himself was the guy responsible for putting food on the table to feed two growing boys, and keeping a roof over their heads. No time to lose sleep over daydreams of what might have been.

For a change he decided to really listen to the dumb peeper frogs. Maybe if he listened long enough, they’d bore him to sleep. This late at night, anything was worth a try.

The next morning Claire had to face the fact that her sister was going home to California. “Are you sure you have to go back so soon?” Laurel didn’t look happy about her decision, either. To Claire, Laurel seemed close to tears as she picked up the last suitcase.

“I don’t want to. When we made the reservations it made perfect sense to just come for the long weekend and then go back there,” Laurel said. “I’d forgotten how different it is here.”

“It has to be a change from California.”

Laurel nodded. “In so many ways. When Sam was around it made sense to stay there. I mean, where else does a screenwriter make a living? But now that he’s gone, it just doesn’t make as much sense.”

“You’d have a revolt on your hands if you tried to move back here, though, wouldn’t you?” They looked out to the broad asphalt driveway between the garage and apartment and the main house. Laurel’s gangly son Jeremy was showing his cousins another trick on his skateboard, while Trent and Kyle had their in-line skates on and the hockey equipment out. Neither side appeared to convince the other that their way was better, but both were having fun.

Each taking a suitcase, the women went down the stairs. They put the baggage on the pavement for the kids to load into the car in a few minutes when Ben came back. “You know it. Jer is a California kid. He can’t imagine anyplace else. But I worry about the influences out there, and the schools and everything. I miss my family, and I guess I’m just too practical for California.”

“How’s that?” Claire asked, still watching the boys banter on the driveway.

“We could probably get by on about a third of what we do out there, if we moved back to Missouri. Not that Sam left me hurting for money, but I want to keep everything I can in savings to send Jeremy to college.”

“I hear you. It’s scary to think they’re that close to going, isn’t it?”

“Not that Jeremy appreciates the idea.” Claire could hear the aggravation thick in her sister’s voice. “He says he doesn’t need to go to college to be a pro skateboarder, which is what he wants to do.”

“But think of how much money it would save you. Surely, that’s what he’s thinking of, isn’t it? Trent hasn’t even tried the ‘I don’t need college’ argument. He knows that Ben and I are both determined that he’s going to start—and finish. There’s going to be at least one Jericho with a four-year degree around here.”

Claire felt her sister’s hand on her shoulder. “I always thought that you would be first.”

She looked at Laurel. Her sister wasn’t teasing. “Really? What would I do?”

“I don’t know. Art. Fashion design. Something using all those creative talents. You always did better in school than I did, Claire. It didn’t bother Mom and Dad as much when I dropped out after one year of college. But when you and Ben insisted you were getting married right away, and he was the only one going back to school, I thought Daddy would explode.”

Claire shrugged. “He survived. And so did I. And it really was for the best, anyway. What would I do with a degree?”

“Something. You’ve still got the same wonderful talent and creativity. It shows up in almost everything you touch, whether it’s painting the bathroom or putting together an outfit for Dad’s wedding. And it’s certainly wasted on your family.”

Claire bristled and started to argue. Then she closed her mouth. No sense getting into an argument with Laurel when they only had moments before driving to the airport. Especially when her sister was more than half-right. She was aggravating as only a big sister could be, but on track.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. And I am about ready to do something different. What about you?”

Claire turned to her sister, surprised to see her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She hadn’t realized that Laurel was that serious about things. “Hey, we’ll both be okay,” she said, gathering her for a hug.

“I know,” Laurel said shakily, returning the hug. She pulled away, wiping one escaping tear off her cheek. “It’s just that everything is so hard sometimes. And I know what I want to do, but not whether I can do it.”

She looked back at the apartment. “Just don’t rent that out right away, will you?”

“I hadn’t planned to. Do you really think you could move back here?” The thought of having both her sisters close enough to visit with on a regular basis was a new and heady thing.

Laurel nodded. “I’m praying for change. And you know how dangerous that is.” Her use of one of their mother’s favorite phrases from their childhood made Claire smile. Ever the optimist, Susan Collins had told her daughters to pray for change, and then count on God to make it happen.

“But expect to be surprised.” Claire could hear her mother’s rich voice. “Because the Lord’s idea of change and ours isn’t always the same.” It hadn’t been in her mom’s case, that was for certain. Still, through six years of struggle with cancer and remission, and ultimately more cancer, Sue had found healing. It had always been there for her spirit, if not for her body in the end.

“Pray for some of that change for me while you’re at it.” Where had those words come from? Claire had surprised herself. Wasn’t she perfectly content with her life just the way it was?

No, she wasn’t. Her life was wonderful and fulfilling, but it was time for a change. Even in the warm June sunshine, the thought made her shiver.

Laurel saw her shudder, and put an arm around her again. It felt so good to have her comforting, annoying older sister this close. Maybe it would be a good idea to have her around all the time.

“We’ll pray for each other,” said Laurel. “For the most wonderful and dangerous changes we can think of. Now where is that husband of yours? It’s an hour drive at least to the airport.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Claire countered. “You forget how he drives. Still, I better go in and call.”

Claire went into the kitchen and punched in the familiar number. “Jericho Hardware,” said a friendly voice. It wasn’t Ben, which gave her hope.

“Hi, Pete. Great. Tell me you answering the phone means that Ben is on his way back here to get to the airport.”

“Uh, not exactly, Mrs. Jericho.”

Claire could feel her spirits fall. Not again. The young clerk sounded like he had bad news, or at least news he was reluctant to break himself.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes, please,” she said through tight lips. Pete put her on hold for a while. About the time she was ready to hang up, Ben finally came on the line.

“Hi. I’m not there, obviously. Something came up.”

It was all Claire could do to keep herself from scowling or saying something rude. If this weren’t a normal occurrence, she’d be pleasant. But it happened far too often lately. “Oh? Ben, you knew when you left this morning that you were supposed to be coming back to take Laurel and Jeremy.”

He sighed. “I know. But the person I’d set up an important appointment with, for tomorrow, just breezed in the door ten minutes ago. Apparently we got our days mixed up.”

“Can’t you just—” Claire started.

“No. I can’t do anything right now but stay here and be cordial.” Ben wasn’t leaving any room for argument or compromise.

That surprised her. Usually when this happened he tried to find some way to placate her. Not this time.

He went on, still sounding just as firm. “This is too important to do anything else. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Tell Laurel and Jer goodbye for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Claire hung up the phone and looked around the room for her keys to the truck. Great. It probably didn’t even have gas in it—not enough to get to St. Louis, anyway. At least it wasn’t rush hour.

“Looks like we’re on our own,” she told her sister.

Laurel made a face. “Lovely. Just promise me I won’t be explaining anything to the highway patrol. Although, I expect we could get Carrie to fix any ticket you got.”

“Not this month. I’ve already made my quota.” It was worth the teasing just to see the look on her sister’s face. Claire wondered what Laurel would say if she knew that her teasing had an edge of truth. She promised herself to watch the speed all the way to the airport. At least the boys were staying home, so there wouldn’t be anybody along to rat her out.

She called them to the truck to load the suitcases. If she was surrounded by big hulking males, might as well put those strong bodies to good use. No need to do everything herself, even if Ben was leaving her in the lurch. Again, a voice in her mind told her.

“Definitely pray for some change around here,” she told Laurel. “It’s about time.”

Chapter Three

Claire was almost glad Ben didn’t come home in time for supper that night. The dinner table was no place to argue. And she knew that given the chance tonight, she’d argue. It was easier to put together sub sandwiches and get the guys fed early, then get them to their respective activities.

Kyle was getting ready for Scout camp. He was old enough now that he went to Boy Scout camp without a parent, and he was excited about it. Claire was thankful that he’d reached the age of going with the Boy Scouts instead of the Cubs, because there was no way Ben’s schedule could have accommodated a week of camping. When had they all gotten so busy?

Trent was just going over to a friend’s house with his street hockey equipment for a quick game. It stayed light so long at this time of year, they could play for hours. Once both boys were dropped off, Claire could escape to the relative peace of her women’s fellowship at church. When Ben came home he’d find her note telling him where everybody was, and a sandwich in the refrigerator, so everything was taken care of.

After a weekend of activity, and seeing so much of her sisters, it was fun to be in the company of her church friends again. Many of them had been at her dad’s wedding, and had some comment about the flowers or the music. It was nice to remember her happy weekend instead of her aggravating day.

Finally Debi Baker, the head of the fellowship group, got everyone to settle down so she could get the evening’s program started. The woman she introduced looked so polished and put together that Claire felt a twinge of envy.

Granted, anybody presenting a program to a group wanted to look her best. But how long had it been since Claire had come to fellowship in something other than a denim skirt, or maybe a pair of khakis and a cotton shirt, if she’d gotten to the ironing? Her household priorities, and picking up the slack for Ben as often as not, made her own appearance last on the list quite often. This woman looked as if she’d just stepped out of a corporate meeting.

Debi introduced her, and the woman smiled at their welcoming applause. “Thank you. I feel like part of the group already. And that’s good, because I want to lay something on your hearts this evening. It’s June. Traditionally the season for graduations. And weddings. Who could tell me what they were doing in June, say, four or five years ago?”

A few hands went up. Claire could have told the lovely speaker what she was doing any June in the last fifteen years. And none of it involved the kind of glamour she was sure that this young woman had seen in life.

“As Ms. Baker told you before, I’m Nessa Hart, and I’m the regional director of The Caring Closet. And five years ago this June, I was a single mom with two small children, collecting public assistance while watching them grow up in a St. Louis housing project.”

There was a murmur through the group. Claire found herself backing up in her chair. This woman? Collecting welfare? It didn’t add up with her polished appearance and self-confidence. When Nessa Hart began to explain how the changes in her life had come about in five years, Claire felt a thrill go through her. Talk about dramatic change.

“Once I knew Jesus, my whole life changed. But it was harder to match the changes on the inside with changes on the outside, where people could see them,” Nessa told them. “I could change my life and become a different person. But that person needed schooling to do a job, and clothes to go to interviews and get that job. That’s where The Caring Closet came in. Obviously, I’m a believer in what they do.” Nessa was smiling as she spoke. “I passed up a promotion at another job to come and work for them. And I’ve never had any doubts that this was the right decision for me. It was the only thing I could do to give back, to launch somebody else on the same path I followed.”

While Nessa went on explaining The Caring Closet’s mission in outfitting women for the work world, a persistent thought began whispering over and over through Claire’s mind. You could do this. You could really do this. It wasn’t the sort of thing she had had in mind when she asked Laurel to pray for change. But maybe it was even better. She could hardly wait to get home and talk to Ben. She didn’t even stay for cookies after fellowship—and they were chocolate chip with pecans, her favorite.

Every light was on in the house when she got to the driveway. Ben’s car was parked, and Claire could hear the commotion of the guys in the kitchen as she got out of the truck and headed for the back door.

Trent’s hockey equipment nearly tripped her just inside. Kyle was digging into the closet in the mudroom, holding a piece of pizza in one hand. “Hi, Mom,” she heard him say from halfway in the closet. “Do you know where the rest of the tent stakes are?”

“Should be in a zipper pouch with the tent, Kyle. And either look for tent stakes or eat pizza, but not both at the same time.”

“Okay.” The hand holding the pizza disappeared inside the closet with the rest of Kyle. That wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but Claire decided to let it slide for now. She was so anxious to talk to Ben, she’d even let Kyle eat in the closet.

As she looked into the kitchen for him, an explosion rumbled from the table. It was the kind of noise that could only come from the gullet of a well-stuffed human male loaded with pizza and cola. “Ugh. What do you say, Trent?” she prompted.

“Nice resonance, Dad.” Her son’s reply brought Claire’s head up quickly.

“Benjamin Trent Jericho, you didn’t do that—did you?” His grin was all the answer she needed. “That’s terrible. What are you teaching these guys?”

“Nothing. At least, not on purpose. I’ve been on my feet for a good solid twelve hours, and I guess I ate dinner too fast. Sorry.”

Ben was pushed back from the kitchen table, tie loosened and shoes kicked off. His face showed signs of fatigue behind the grin. Claire came up behind him, not sure whether to stroke his dark hair or yank it out by the roots. The softness beneath her fingers convinced her not to pull.

“Okay, I guess I’ll let you off this once. But you didn’t have to bring home pizza. There was dinner in the refrigerator.”

Ben looked up into her face, seeming surprised. The motion pushed his head into her midsection, almost making her forget the exciting things she wanted to tell him about her fellowship meeting.

“Wow. You must want something. You don’t usually let me get away with anything that easy.” He quirked one eyebrow, questioning her.

The man knew her way too well. That was one of the downsides of marrying your high school sweetheart. Things got very predictable at times. “Maybe. Well, okay, yes. I do want something. Let me tell you about what I found out tonight.”

Ben held up a hand. “If it’s church gossip, I don’t want to know.”

Claire resisted the urge to really yank that beautiful wavy dark mane. “You know better than that. Do you want more of that soda to drink while you listen to this?”

Ben sighed. “Sure. But if you pour some for yourself, make it decaffeinated. You seem to have enough charge already this evening.”

Ben sat at the kitchen table, trying very hard to focus on what Claire was saying. It wasn’t easy. There was already so much other stuff bouncing around in his brain. And her enthusiasm made her glow. Both those things together made him want to scoop her up and take her upstairs, instead of having a serious discussion.

Claire really wanted this discussion, though, so he was going to have to put his thoughts on hold and pay attention. It was still hard for him to follow her train of thought.

“Now let me get this straight,” he said, when she paused for a moment. “This is something you really want to do on your own?” It just didn’t sound like Claire.

Claire nodded. “It really is. The women’s fellowship group is really excited about starting this community closet idea. And I could do it.”

“Sounds to me like a giant rummage sale with no profit.” At least it wasn’t going to cost him anything. Although knowing Claire, she’d find a way to make it cost him something.

Claire’s brow wrinkled. “Then you’re missing the point, or I’m not explaining things very clearly.”

“Must be me. We know you’re always crystal clear in your explanations.” That would probably get a coaster tossed at his head, but he couldn’t resist.

“Very funny. Let me try it again. Maybe I should start by asking what you don’t understand.”

“Why anybody would want to spend weeks, or maybe even months, sorting through a bunch of cast-off clothing, if you’re not going to either bale it up and send it someplace to a mission, or sell it to make a profit.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try to give you the short story that Nessa gave us. I did tell you about Nessa, didn’t I?”

Now it was Ben’s turn to nod. “And she must have really impressed you.”

“She did. And what she said was so simple, Ben. See, this program gathers good, gently used women’s business apparel. Then it recycles the clothing to people who need to go on job interviews, start an office job, whatever.”

Her eyes widened into dark pools again, bringing back Ben’s urge to hold her.

“Imagine it. You gather the skills to get your family off public assistance and finally be self-supporting. But when you go out to do interviews, nobody hires you because you don’t have a suit or nice shoes or a briefcase to carry your papers in.” Her eyes blazed. “Ben, that’s just not fair.”

“Of course it isn’t. Life in general doesn’t seem to be most of the time.” If Claire hadn’t figured that out by now, he must have been sheltering her even more than he thought.

“I know. But most things that aren’t fair, I can’t do much about. This I can.”

Claire pulled her long legs up in the chair with her, wrapping her arms around them. Then she started ticking off reasons on her fingers, while Ben tried to listen instead of just watching the dancing fingertips.

“I know how to organize things. I know who to get hold of to get the church a quality supply of gently used business clothes. And they’ve already got most of the space in the Sunday School building, so I wouldn’t even have to take up much room here.”

“Much room? We don’t have any room to run a thrift shop out of the house.”

There was that forehead wrinkle again.

“It’s not a thrift shop. I keep trying to tell you that. It’s a community service. And we wouldn’t do anything but sort a few things here, anyway.”

Ah, Claire and her enthusiasm. “Please, define a few of those terms. Like who ‘we’ would be, and what kind of ‘few things’ you would be sorting, whoever you are.”