Lynn Bulock - Walls of Jericho

To Claire, it was apples and oranges. To Ben, it was more like Golden Delicious versus Granny Smith.

“Claire? Now I’ve got to ask. You still there? It never takes you this long to answer.” He sounded amused and worried at the same time.

“I’m here. And thinking. Maybe if you put it like that, I’d have to answer the same way. Sure, I wonder what things would have been like if we’d waited. But I can’t imagine life without Trent and Kyle.”

“I can. We could afford vacations, have shrimp for dinner instead of hamburger, and I’d drive a convertible—”

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.”