Potter Springs (16 page)

“I’ve had two,” Missy said. “Miscarriages, I mean.”

“You? But you’ve got the baby, the other children. And they’re all-”

“Healthy as can be. Doctor said one in four is a miss. Can be genetic, can be a fluke.” Missy wiped her watering eyes with
her free hand. “Didn’t feel like a fluke at the time, though. Felt awful.”

“I know.” And Amanda’s wasn’t a fluke. Her body was the fluke. Her womb, a failure.
Close to impossible,
the doctor had said. His eyes as cold as his hands.

But she couldn’t reveal that part. Not to Missy. Not to anyone.

“It took a long time for me to even get back to church.” Missy looked down. “See, we’d told everybody, and then when I wasn’t
pregnant anymore, I just didn’t know how to face them.”

Amanda couldn’t tell if her car mates were oblivious to the conversation, or were allowing privacy for kindness’ sake. Sound
traveled strangely in the Suburban. Hard to be sure. Still, she took comfort in their discretion, even as she kept her voice
low. “How did you?”

“Do what?”

“Start facing people?” Amanda wondered if she’d ever be able to face people again. To be herself and not the person hiding
behind the stucco.

“Oh, it started small, I guess. The ones who came to the house after I lost the baby. The friends who cried with me, who let
me talk about it. And then, of course, God helped. But not for a while. Right after it happened, I didn’t want anything to
do with God. Too hurt, maybe.” Missy’s voice ran in a rush. “I know that’s not the spiritual thing to say, to the pastor’s
wife and all.”

Amanda shook her head and nodded at the same time. “No, it’s okay. Go ahead.”

Missy’s chin thrust out. “It’s true. I was mad at God, and I didn’t want to pray or go to church or hear about his blessings
at all. ’Cause the way I saw it he’d stolen my blessing away. Coulda stopped it, but he didn’t.”

“So how’d you … you know … get over it?”

“I don’t think you ever get over something like that.”

Amanda’s heart shrank.
Not ever?

“I guess I just learned to get
through
it. Crying makes it better.”

“I can’t seem to stop crying,” Amanda confessed. “Over everything.”

“Talking helps too. That’s how I started up with God again, realizing he hadn’t forgotten me after all. He sent those women,
girlfriends, to walk me through it.”

“I haven’t been able to. Talk, I mean. The dates”-Amanda met Missy’s gaze and risked honesty-“they don’t add up right. For
a pastor’s wife.”

Missy chewed on her lip for a minute. “Jimmy and me, ours are that way too.” She blushed. “I won’t say anything. You can trust
me. And if you ever want to talk about it…” Missy tipped her head toward the other women, now belting out show tunes from
Oklahoma. “Oh, the cowman and the farmer should be friends
…”

“Other people will understand too. If you give ’em a chance. You might be surprised.”

Amanda eyed her fellow carpoolers. Yes, they might surprise her. Yet, life had taught her, she mused over the next few hours,
not all surprises were good ones.

THE COLORADO RETREAT
center resembled an old-time log cabin village, nestled amidst pines and mountains. The air thinned, and emerging from Shelinda’s
Suburban, Amanda felt lighter too. The late afternoon sun blazed high, yet the heat didn’t seem to reach the parking lot.
Amanda hugged herself against the cool, and drank deep of the scent of wilderness.

“We’re here!” Pam announced to no one in particular, unfolding from the vehicle.

Kendra Sue dug in her book bag. “I think they’ve got us bunked in the main cabin.” She pointed to a larger building.

“I hope we’re roommates.” Missy trailed alongside Amanda, juggling her pillow and a duffel bag.

“I’d like that.” They stepped into the warm hallway, already filled with women ready for the retreat. Some smiled and said
hello to Amanda as they walked past.

“Oh, here’s mine. I’m with Kendra Sue.” Missy smiled an apology, waved bye and disappeared across the hall. Next door, Pam
informed Shelinda that she needed the bunk by the bathroom as she had severe diarrhea that morning and would most likely be
up all night.

Amanda found her room-two matching name tags announced that her roommate would be Peggy Plumley. A nice surprise.

Shelinda shot a look and mouthed, “Wanna trade?”

Amanda grinned and shook her head no. Inside, she put her suitcase and pillow on the bed closest to the door. A picture window
framed the soaring mountains outside. Atop each single bed, covered in patchwork quilts, lay school-type paper folders. Hers
was green.

Inside, a stack of inserts detailed the weekend’s activities. She skimmed through the lists of sessions, meal schedules, and
noted the free time to go hiking or take a nap.

One sheet featured a caption,
DRAW NEAR TO GOD, AND HE WILL DRAW NEAR TO YOU.
Underneath it read,
Welcome to Lakeview Women’s Retreat. Start your special time here by writing a letter to yourself. What do you want from this
weekend? What are your hopes and prayers? What are you feeling, right now?

The rest of the page was blank, left empty for the answers. Except Amanda didn’t know the answers, and this felt like homework,
so she shut the cover and lay back on her pillow.

You need to go,
Mark had said.
For both our sakes.

She cracked an eyelid and stared at the mountains. “But I don’t want to,” she said aloud.

The mountains made no reply, so she sat up and opened the folder. After locating a pen in the nightstand drawer, she kicked
off her shoes and crossed her legs.

I feel…

The paper looked so white. The pen so dark. The loops of her handwriting naked against the page.

I feel… like an idiot.
She stared at that, then scratched it out.
I want
…

She figured she could keep it light, and no one would know the difference.
I want to lose five pounds. I want my hair to look halfway normal.
The ink flowed freely while she scribbled down her thoughts, her handwriting worsened the faster she wrote.
I want to not have to sit near or talk to Courtney Williams. I want to have a good time.

I want to go home.

Home.
The word gave her pause, and she thought of Mark, waving in the driveway as they pulled away. Planning this for her, making
the effort.

I want to be a better wife.
She used to be a good wife, she thought. They used to be so great together.

She paused, remembering. The earlier days when they flowed, connecting like hot honey and butter in a delicious, decadent
swirl.

When she could laugh, or make a face, and he knew her heart, her spirit. She didn’t have to explain herself. A time when neither
of them had to try so hard.

Her chest tightened and she slowed her breathing, the pen hovered over the page. She thought of his tenderness. The little
things he did for her, hoping she would notice. How he rattled around in the mornings, cleaning, driving her crazy as she
tossed in the sheets.

His puttering made her nervous, sensing he wanted to clean her up too. To make her all better. But, try though he might, he
couldn’t. And she didn’t know how to do it for herself.

The one thing she really wanted, she couldn’t have. She saw no use in putting it down on paper, to mock her.
I want a baby. I want
my
baby.

She considered the page again, picked up her pen and wrote one last entry.
I want to get better.

It was the first time she had thought that. The words swam before her and she put the pen down and let her tears run free.

The door opened and Peggy Plumley pushed inside with a suitcase the size of Dallas. “My Lord! Those stairs were a killer!
How are you, honeygirl? Make the trip all right?”

She nodded and brought quick fingertips to her eyes, brushing away the moisture.

Peggy unzipped her shoulder bag and tossed a small package of Kleenex to Amanda as if it were the most natural thing in the
world to find her roommate for the weekend in tears.

Of course, given their history as friends, the woman had every right to believe “in shambles” as Amanda’s most natural state.
She unwrapped the package, revealing pink tissues that smelled of powdered flowers.

“Isn’t it great we’re together?” Peggy hung her shirts, nearly identical to the one she already wore, in a neat row in the
closet. Finished, she heaved herself on the other bed and squished the folder there. “What’s this?”

“Some stuff we’re supposed to do before the sessions.” Amanda folded her letter and sealed it in the envelope.

“I can get to mine later.” Peggy stood, smoothed her top and braced her hands on her hips. “What do you want to do first?”

Amanda thought about it. Stay behind, have solitude, finish reading through her curriculum for the weekend. Maybe cry a little
more.
What do you want?

Laughter rang down the hall, and a succession of knocks sounded at the door. “Mandy! We’re hungry… let’s go eat!” Shelinda
peeked in. “Oh, hi, Peggy. Y’all wanna check out the cafeteria?” Missy and Kendra Sue stood behind her.

“Well? What do you say?” Peggy made for the hallway.

I want to get better.

She must start small, and do her part. If she had bootstraps, she’d tug them, but instead she retrieved her lace-ups from
the floor and smiled. “I’m in.”

M
ark checked his appearance in the mirror one last time before going to the dining room to wait. He smoothed a wayward cowlick,
huffed his breath in his hand to check for odor and swiped Chap Stick across his lips. He hoped for plenty of kissing later
on. Among other things.

A big surprise waited for Amanda’s homecoming, and he figured some been-away-from-home, you’re-the-most-amazing-husband-in-the-world
loving was headed his way.

When she called Friday, her voice had been giggly, girlish. Through the spotty reception, he detected something he’d almost
forgotten-happiness.

“Are you having fun?” He was almost too afraid to ask.

“Oh, Mark. We had to do these skits tonight. Skits! I haven’t done that since church camp. Shelinda played a policeman, and
I was-I was”-she broke up laughing-“a dog!”

“Sounds hilarious,” he teased her. When was the last time he teased her?

“Well, I guess you had to be there,” she admitted. “But I’ve been having the best time. The sessions are so good, and the
mountains … it’s just incredible. So beautiful.”

“Are you glad you went?” He couldn’t help prodding.

“You have no idea. I know you want to hear it, so I’ll just say it. You were right.”

“You didn’t have to say that.” He tried not to sound smug.

“I did too, and wipe that grin off your face. Yes, I’m having a great time, and yes, you’re the best.”

“Miss me?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Emphatic.

He liked the sound of it.

“In fact, when I get home, there’re some things I want to talk about. And things I want to … well, you know …” She lowered
her voice an octave. “Do.”

Heat raced through him at her tone. “I can’t wait.” But he had to. Two more long days, watching the pigs twirl around the
living-room clock. He checked the map again, figuring they should arrive within the hour.

Thirty minutes later, Shelinda’s silver Suburban pulled into the cracked driveway. Women piled out like clowns from a Volkswagen,
dropping pillows and purses and Lord knows what else. Mark made pleasant small talk, and tried to keep his hands off his wife.

“Here she is, safe and sound.” Shelinda grinned at the group. “Toldja we’d make it.”

“I never doubted you,” Mark lied.

Warmth and cinnamon filled his senses as Amanda ran at him, her hair flying into his mouth. Scratchy wool encased his neck.
“I missed you.”

His arms twitched in thankfulness.

“Ahwooo, lookee there! We need to let you two lovebirds alone!” A singsong voice shattered his desire fog, and he backed an
inch or two away from Amanda. But not more.

Pam Hart, in an eye-popping sweat suit, winked widely at the rest of the ladies. “Shoo, shoo, y’all. Get back in the car.
We’re not needed here.”

They collected themselves, took turns hugging Amanda and left in a cloud of perfume and fluttering hands.

Shelinda’s rear bumper scraped heavily on the inclined drive.
Honk, honk, honk,
the horn sounded a strange beat, like a feminine Morse code, as they turned the corner.

Women.

“I have so much to tell you. So much I want to talk about.” Amanda practically hopped up and down in front of him. “Good grief,
it’s cold. Did a front come through? Come on.” She tugged his hand. “Let’s go inside.”

He let her pull him close, dipped in to taste her willingness. He folded her in his arms, pressing her as close as possible
without being naked.

She held the back of his neck and ran her fingers, restless, through his hair.