Walls of Jericho

“So nice of you to consult me before deciding that.” Now Ben knew he was the one who sounded sharp.

“Well? Do you need it for anything?” Claire challenged.

“I might.” That sounded like the boys arguing. Maybe even less mature. “I guess it would have been nice to be asked before you made up your mind on all this. You didn’t tell them at church that you’d do it, did you?”

There was that snort again.

“I most certainly did not. Am I usually that impulsive?”

Ben shrugged. “Where good works are concerned, I have to say yes, sometimes you are.”

“Not on anything this big. This is a project that won’t be over in six weeks. Just setting it up will take that long or longer. And then whoever commits to leading the group will probably have to commit a year or more to the leadership.”

Ben whistled. “A year? As in twelve months, volunteer, just out of the goodness of your heart?”

“A year. Not full time or anything. Some weeks it would be only a few hours, some more like fifteen or twenty, depending on what stage of things we’re in. And yes, it would be all volunteer. This is a service, a ministry.” Her brow wrinkled again. “Besides, it’s not like anybody’s paying me now to do anything.”

“That’s true. But I thought that was the way you wanted things. The way we both wanted things.” This conversation was changing his whole opinion of his wife.

“It was. And it still is, for the most part. But I believe I can do this. More than that, I want to do this. It sounds like a really good fit for me. I just told Laurel to pray for change. I’m ready for a little change in my life.”

Great. So now this crazy scheme was the answer to a prayer. “So now if I protest I’m keeping you from doing what God wants you to.”

Claire bristled. “I didn’t say that. Is there something else you’d rather see me doing?” She looked so determined. And so appealing, eyes sparkling, lips in a decisive pout.

“Not really. It just seems like they’re taking advantage of your good nature in a big way. I mean, I wouldn’t volunteer to take on a project like this for anything. It would be stupid.”

Her mouth compressed. “Well, maybe that’s just the difference between us, then. I won’t make a decision tonight, anyway. I need to think on it, pray on it.”

“And sleep on it?” Ben tried not to sound suggestive. Claire knew how he felt, anyway. He was as hopeless in his admiration of her as he had been fifteen years ago. Why was he arguing against this crazy scheme? It would probably keep her from being interested in any changes he made at work in the near future. And that would be a very good thing.

“And sleep on it.” Funny, it sounded different when she said it. Like she actually intended to sleep. Ben tried not to sigh or look too wishful. That would just get her more stirred up than she already was.

On Wednesday morning Claire was still thinking and planning. She hadn’t given anybody an answer at church on whether she’d take over The Caring Closet, but she was pretty sure she would. It sounded like a lot of work, but interesting work.

In the long run it would be a project that helped so many people. Women who needed a way to improve their lives, and the lives of their children, would get help in a positive, encouraging way. And at the same time, a lot of people who had closets full of clothes they weren’t using could feel good about clearing those things out.

Claire thought about her own closet. There were several outfits that would be going to this ministry, whether she headed it up or not. That blue blazer she hadn’t worn since she stopped being president of the PTA. And there was that wool dress with the pleated skirt. Ben liked it on her, but she always felt like it made her hips look too wide. Besides, it was wool and it itched. She always felt like fidgeting or running her finger around the inside of her collar about halfway through Sunday School. Since she was always admonishing the boys not to wiggle, she couldn’t very well do the same thing.

She decided to get two things done at once: go through the closets for discards for church, and get a load of laundry done.

She thought best while doing things like that, anyway. Those dozens of little mindless tasks that had to be done around the house kept her hands busy, but not her mind. She could weigh the decision in front of her while she sorted laundry and matched socks.

Her side of the closet was easy. None of her dirty clothes ever got waylaid on the way to the hamper. She found the two things she wanted to set aside and laid them on the bed, then looked around the room.

There weren’t many of Ben’s clothes strewn around, for a change. If she had a nickel for every stray sock she’d picked up in sixteen years, she could probably buy a new washer. One pair of khakis was draped over the chair where he’d left them. Claire picked up the pants, looking them over for odd stains or rips. Ben was as hard on his clothes as were the boys.

The khakis seemed to be in one piece, and there were no obvious ugly stains like machine oil or paint or the other stuff he got into at the hardware store and then forgot to tell her about. Washing clothes was often an adventure around here.

As she put the pants over her arm to take to the basket in the hallway, Claire heard a rustle. She reached into the front pockets, checking for whatever Ben had left in there. There was a piece of paper, folded in quarters. It was nice business letterhead. There was a matching business card folded into the paper. Claire read it, wondering what it was all about. Going to the nightstand, she dialed the phone. Surprisingly enough, Ben answered himself.

“Hey. It’s me.” She balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear. “I’m doing laundry, and I found some papers in your pocket. Who’s Marcy McKinnon?”

“You remember her. From high school. Except she was Marcy Farley then.”

“Oh.” Marcy Farley McKinnon had been the prettiest blond cheerleader at Friedens High when Ben was a senior. She was the one people had always said Ben should have been dating instead of mousy, scholarly sophomore Claire Collins. Even Claire knew folks said that behind her back.

“Has she moved back to town, then?”

“No, still living in St. Louis. But she was my business appointment the other morning, when you ended up taking Laurel and Jeremy to the airport.”

“Oh.” She sounded like a broken record, but she felt stunned. “What kind of business were you discussing with Marcy McKinnon?”

There was a long pause on Ben’s end of the line. She could hear somebody ringing up a sale on the cash register, then the rattle of plastic bags as a purchase was handed over. It seemed like forever, and he still hadn’t answered.

Finally he cleared his throat. It was still a moment before he spoke. “I can’t tell you what I was discussing with her.”

“Not at all?”

She could almost feel him shaking his head in that slow, solid way he had.

“Not at all. Just put the papers on my desk in the living room, okay?”

Like a good little wife, his tone seemed to say. “I guess. Does this mean we’ll discuss this when you get home?”

She could tell that he was trying to sound light, but his voice sounded strained. “Afraid not. This isn’t something I can discuss with you. Not for the present, at least. But it isn’t anything to worry about. I’ll see you at dinner.”

With that the phone went dead. And Claire was standing in the middle of the bedroom holding a strange woman’s business card and feeling more confused than she had in years.

Chapter Four

Dinner that night was a strange event. It was a night on which everyone was home, which was usually cause for celebration. With Ben as busy as he was, and the kids constantly involved in activities after school, with friends or with their youth groups at church, it was rare that everyone was at the table together on a weeknight.

Claire knew it was mostly her own attitude that kept things from being party-like. She felt tense and brittle enough to break. Meanwhile, Ben sat at the table calmly. He seemed totally unaware that he’d upset her.

The boys seemed to sense the tense atmosphere, and concentrated on eating instead of talking. Dishes on the table emptied at a surprising rate. Finally in the silence, broken before only by the clink of cutlery, Kyle cleared his throat.

“Uh, Mom? I heard you talking about that closet thing at church. Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably. Why?”

Kyle shrugged. His shoulders were thinner, but the gesture looked so much like one of Ben’s.

“It sounds like a lot of work, is all. Don’t you have enough to do already?”

Claire wanted to shout her answer, but this was her sweet baby asking. He needed gentle education, even though she was feeling aggravation and frustration. “Most of the things I do, anybody could do around here. Cooking and cleaning and laundry aren’t just ‘Mom stuff’ as much as they are survival skills. And it’s probably time you guys knew a whole bunch more about them.”

Kyle groaned. “Now you sound like Aunt Laurel. Do you know that Jeremy does all his own laundry? He doesn’t do any cleaning, though.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because his mom doesn’t, either, doofus,” Trent chimed in. “They have somebody come in and clean. That’s how it’s done when you’re rich.”

Claire’s frustration was growing with the realization of her children’s attitudes. She breathed a silent prayer for help before going on. “I don’t ever remember saying that Aunt Laurel and Jeremy are rich. Or that what your cousin does or doesn’t do will matter in your chores—and don’t call your brother names.”

Trent glared at his brother, as if it were his fault somehow that Claire had corrected them both. He knew better than to say anything out loud. That was one area of discipline on which both his parents, even if they weren’t speaking much to each other, agreed.

Kyle seemed oblivious to any correction aimed at him. “Hey, does this mean Dad has to pitch in more on chores too, if we do?”

Trent snickered. “Sure. He can cook if Mom gets stuck at church doing the closet thing.”

Claire tried not to laugh. She wondered if Ben knew enough about cooking to get past boiling water or making toast. Everything would definitely be grilled if he cooked. “I’m sure we could find something for him to do. Cooking might not be the right thing.”

“Good. I’m too young to die.”

Kyle’s grin was a version of his father’s. And his reflexes were almost as good as his father’s, allowing him to duck quickly when Ben swiped a hand at his head in mock anger.

“Thanks, pal. I’ll remember you the next time I’m making burgers. One charred one coming up.”

“Great. And I can’t even feed it to the dog, because Mom won’t let us have one. I’ll bet we never get a dog if you do this closet thing at church.”

Trent looked honestly worried for a moment. “You’ll still do band boosters at school, won’t you? And drive me to hockey at Jeff’s?”

“I might not be available every moment,” Claire admitted. “But you guys know you won’t actually suffer from my taking on a project at church.”

“We’ll suffer if you make Dad cook,” Kyle muttered. “Can I be excused?”

Claire shook her head. “Go. Just remember to clear your dishes and stack them by the sink.”

He slid out of his seat and did what he was told. Trent followed, leaving the kitchen to the adults. Claire waited for a few minutes, wondering if Ben would bring up the cause of the silence between them.

He moved things around on his plate a little, staying quiet. Apparently he’d decided that the best way to avoid an argument was to say nothing.

Sometimes that worked. But tonight Claire couldn’t stand the silence for long. “I put those papers on top of your dresser. Did you find them?”

“Yes, I did. Thanks.”

Great. She was getting the condensed version. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Does this mean you still aren’t going to explain what you’re doing seeing Marcy McKinnon?”

Ben looked up, his brows pulled together in aggravation. “I am not ‘seeing’ Marcy. You make things sound so out of line. All the woman did was stop by for a business appointment.”

“Which you won’t explain to me,” Claire pointed out.

“Normally, you want me to leave the business at the front door when I come home.”

How could he be so perfectly reasonable when he knew it was only going to annoy her more? “‘Normally’ doesn’t include business appointments with the girl the whole high school paired you up with all of your senior year.”

Claire was immediately aware how juvenile that sounded. But it had disturbed her. How had their lives gotten so out of whack that Ben didn’t tell her something like this?

Ben’s expression was odd, almost bemused. “Did they really? That’s funny.” He straightened in his chair. “It’s also beside the point. Marcy was at the store on business. And it’s not business I can discuss right now without jeopardizing a deal that could mean something to us. It’s not like you’re normally involved in my business decisions, Claire.”

She couldn’t stand sitting at the table anymore. Claire pushed away and picked up an armload of dishes. She concentrated on setting things down on the countertop without banging them. No sense chipping the china just because she was mad at Ben.

“That’s what I’m getting at. I should be involved in those decisions, don’t you think? Just yesterday you got on me for not consulting you before I made a decision. And I hadn’t even made one yet.”

Ben was up now, following her to the sink. He put his hands on her shoulders, and Claire resisted the urge to shrug him off. She didn’t want to push him any farther away than he already was. She must have stiffened under his touch, because in a moment he let go on his own.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time for more of a partnership in the business. But Claire, that’s not what I’m used to. Our partnership has always been me at the store, you at home.”

Claire’s anger flared. “Only because we drifted into things that way. I didn’t finish college and get a business degree or anything that would help you. I had Trent instead, remember? And then Kyle came along, and there was always plenty to do here. Because we both wanted me staying home with them. Or, at least, that’s the way I understood things.”

He was still behind her. Claire could feel his warm breath near the back of her neck, and for a moment she wanted to lean into his comforting warmth. Ben was her rock, even when they didn’t get along. Fighting with him was never pleasant.

“That’s the way things were. But I just figured it was the way they still would be. Are you telling me you’re unhappy? That you want a change?”

“Maybe.” Claire stepped away, where his warm breath wouldn’t confuse her thoughts. “I guess I want to change the partnership a little. Diversify.”

She turned around and leaned against the sink. That could be a mistake, looking into Ben’s warm, dark eyes. If she weren’t careful, this argument would end the way of all their arguments, with him promising plenty, changing nothing and romancing her into complacency.

Except that when she turned around, the look on Ben’s face assured that she wasn’t going to be romanced into anything tonight. “I could just smack you, Ben Jericho. You’ve got that ‘isn’t she cute for using the big business word’ smirk on your face.”

Ben’s grin faded. “I didn’t mean to. But I can’t help thinking you might be a little out of your league with all this. Which is the major reason I can’t explain what I’m discussing with Marcy. And the major reason I’d like you to think about what Kyle calls ‘the closet thing.”’ He reached out toward her, and Claire scooted away.

“I look at you, and I still see the sweet thing I married. And I promised to honor you, protect you, cherish you.”

Now that sounded like a caveman. “Yeah, but you didn’t promise to treat me like a child or an idiot. And we’re both different from those two kids who got married back in the Dark Ages.”

“Not so different,” Ben began, heading toward her with his usual argument-winning tactics.

This time it wasn’t going to work. “Not tonight, Ben.” She planted a hand firmly on his chest. He seemed surprised that she would actually resist his charms. “Tonight I need to make it very clear to you that your sweet young thing is all grown up. And she’s got a lot more sense than you give her credit for.”

His brows pulled together again, and Ben moved half a step back. Her hand stayed on his chest, holding him at bay. It was difficult, but she was determined.

“I’ll give you a lot of credit, Claire. Running the house and raising the boys takes effort. But I still don’t think you’re up to business responsibilities at Jericho Hardware or running a huge mission project at church. Just as I don’t think I could do your job here.”

Now her anger really blazed. Claire drew back, planted one fist on her hip and shook the other at him in anger. “Is that what you see all this as? My job? Well, I’ve got news for you, housework and raising children are a lot more challenging than you think. And I’m more than half tempted to see if you could do ‘my job,’ just to show you how much you don’t know.”

Ben’s eyes sparked. “Is that a dare? Because if it is…”

The back of her neck prickled. “I think it is. Yes, that’s a dare. A double-dog dare like Harley Fox gave you to climb the flagpole during your senior year. I dare you to try my job for a month, Ben. And I bet you anything you like that you’ll be less successful at it than I will be at running The Caring Closet.”

“Anything I like? You’re on.” He moved in on her. Claire found herself no place to go to escape, having backed herself into a corner of the kitchen already. “And there’s only one way to seal this kind of double-dog dare bet.”

He leaned down and captured her lips before she could protest. Opening her mouth to argue would only intensity the kiss that Ben was giving her. Claire found her fingers twined in his rumpled dark hair.

Finally he broke the kiss and looked down at her. It took a moment for her to clear her head and gather enough air to speak. “Double-dog dare or not, I know you didn’t kiss Harley Fox,” she said.

“He wasn’t nearly as cute as you, even when you’re riled up.” With a wink and a grin, Ben walked out of the kitchen, leaving her to fume in silence at the outcome of another argument. Even though she’d gotten what she wanted, it still felt as if he’d won. It always felt like he won. How did he do that?

He was an idiot. A purebred fool. How could he have gotten himself into this much trouble all at once? Ben sat in his recliner, behind the newspaper, not really reading it, not paying any attention to the baseball game on television, either. He was using both as distractions from his problems. Neither was working.

Why didn’t he just go back into the kitchen and confess everything to Claire? That he was a miserable failure and he’d finally gotten to the point where talking to an outside business broker about selling the family business was the only option. That the broker happened to be Marcy McKinnon, whom he barely remembered from high school, struck him as a huge coincidence. That obviously was not the way Claire would see it.

From Claire’s perspective, he seemed to be planning something shady with another woman. That was the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d ever done that would give Claire any ideas in that direction.

Still, at this point he’d rather have Claire thinking that he might be flirting with another woman. It beat having her know that her husband was such a loser. Not that everything facing him was his fault. In fact, most of it was totally out of his control, which is what made him so mad.

The big discount and chain stores out on the highway took most of the hardware business these days. There was no way a little mom-and-pop like Jericho could match their prices on everyday stuff like tools or paint. And he couldn’t carry the inventory in his small building that the big boys did, either. If Ben wanted to survive in business, it was time to start from scratch.

But he couldn’t do that. Both his grandfather and his father had managed the hardware store in Friedens. Could he really call his dad in Arizona and tell him he was running the family business into the ground? He couldn’t even face telling Claire that, much less his father.

Maybe if he’d gotten a pro football contract he could have changed his father’s assumption that he’d take over the hardware store. But by marrying Claire and starting a family so young, he’d done in his college career as a ball player. And at that point he wasn’t such a standout that he could have gone pro. Without that option, he’d gone home and drifted into managing the hardware store the way his father had expected. Selling out now felt more like chickening out.

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