Unlocked: A Love Story

  A series of sobs racked her body and she kept her face turned away from him. Only after several minutes did she look at him. The pain in her eyes scared him more than anything ever had. “I . . . I already had the baby.”

  “What?” John felt the floor fall away. The room seemed to start spinning and he couldn’t draw a breath. What had she said? She’d already had the baby? He looked around the room, desperate to see a crib or a bassinet, some sign of their child. “Elizabeth, what do you mean? You’re not due for another week, I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” He looked around once more. “Where’s the baby?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. They were still talking in whispers, still trying to control their emotions. The tears came harder until it looked like she would pass out from the grief that consumed her. “They . . . they took him. We had . . . a boy, John. He was perfect.”

  She’d had a boy. A son. They had a son. Their firstborn child was a boy. But John was too late, and now the baby was gone. He was gone forever.

  John’s heart raced so fast, he could barely think. He felt sick to his stomach, all the room blurred, the walls collapsing in on them. They had a little boy. So where was he? John helped Elizabeth sit up and he searched her eyes. “Who took him?”

  “The couple. They were from overseas, John. Missionaries.” She covered her face as another run of sobs shook her small frame. “I couldn’t stop them. My father made . . . he made the arrangements.”

  Arrangements.

  John stood and walked silently to the window. Arrangements? Like a funeral? And that’s what this was. A funeral for their little boy. John couldn’t exhale, couldn’t think, but it didn’t matter. He had to know where the child was now. He returned to Elizabeth and sat on the edge of her bed. “We can get him back. We have to.”

  “No,” she whispered. She shook her head. “I had him two weeks ago, John. The couple is back overseas by now.” Her face twisted into a sort of grief John had never seen before. “He was so beautiful. His face and eyes. John . . . I got to hold him for an entire hour.” She squeezed her eyes shut and worked to catch her breath. “He looked . . . like you, John.”

  His son had looked like him. The baby boy he would never know, never hold. Never teach to read or ride a bike. His son had looked like him, but now he was gone. The tears began to come for John, too. How could this have happened? How could her father have been so wicked?

  The shock was wearing off, the reality strangling the life from them both. He pulled Elizabeth to his chest and held her, just held her and rocked her while they both quietly wept. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. If I had only known.” He clung to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  They stayed that way for an hour, grieving over the futility of what had happened. When they were finally able to see through their tears, John asked her about the delivery. Other than the fact that the baby had come early, everything had gone the way she expected.

  “I wish I could’ve been here with you.” His anger was only beginning to grow inside him. Her father had done this to them, and one day he would pay. “I should’ve been beside you.”

  She nodded. “Every time I closed my eyes, whenever the pain was too strong, I thought of you. I knew . . . you would’ve been here. You wanted to be here.”

  And if he’d been here, they would still have their son.

  Elizabeth explained that she had been weak after the baby was born, so her father made plans with her houseparents to pick her up a few days from now. John shuddered at the news. If he’d waited even a little longer . . . or if Wilson Gage hadn’t been there to fix his car, he could’ve missed her.

  The fact stirred an urgency in John. “We need to leave. Now, Elizabeth. Before your houseparents wake up. Otherwise they’ll call your father, and he’ll stop us.”

  Fear darkened her eyes. “Okay.”

  A thought hit him. “You still want to come with me, right?” He kept his voice lower than a whisper. With tender care, he put his hands on either side of her face and tried to see the answer for himself. “You still love me?”

  “Of course.” She leaned her forehead against his. “It’s just . . . Where will we live, John? What’s going to happen to us?”

  “I have a plan. You can trust me, okay?” John moved his face back a bit so he could see into her eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth. I want to marry you. As soon as possible.”

  With every word he spoke, her fear seemed to lift. Her voice was barely audible. “I wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know when you’d come back or if you still wanted to . . .” She blinked away new tears. “I wasn’t sure, John.”

  “I’ll never leave you. Never again.” He told her how he had counted down the days and how he had barely made it because of his car. “I broke down in front of this guy’s house. He fixed my oil pan, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” The other details of his encounter with Wilson Gage could wait.

  They weren’t important now.

  “Marry me, Elizabeth. Let me take you back to Ann Arbor, and then as soon as you’re feeling well enough, we can go to a justice of the peace. We’ll have lots of children, and I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” He ran his thumb over her velvety cheek. “Will you marry me?”

  For the first time since he’d crept through her bedroom door, the hint of a smile played on her lips. She whispered her answer. “I will. As soon as we can, yes.”

  John felt his world right itself, just a little. “And one day . . . one day we’ll find our baby boy.”

  It was four in the morning when they packed her things and quietly set out. John took her to the Wesleys and the next evening the couple met with them and agreed to a plan. John and Elizabeth would get married and live there in John’s room, on one condition.

  They had to tell Elizabeth’s parents where they were.

  Neither of them wanted to make that call, but the next day John took the lead. He called her parents and told them what he’d done, that Elizabeth was safe with him. Then he advised them that the following Monday the two of them were getting married. On their own. No parents allowed.

  The first time he’d spoken with Elizabeth’s father, John had been nervous, embarrassed, and certain the man hated him. This time, John didn’t care. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t go back and protect Elizabeth’s innocence. But he could take care of her from this point on.

  It was no surprise that Elizabeth’s parents didn’t protest not being invited to the wedding. Elizabeth’s father shouted at John when he heard the news. “You have no right to take my daughter without my permission!”

  “She’s an adult, sir. This is what she wants.” John managed to keep his tone calm. His mind was made up and so was Elizabeth’s. There was nothing her parents could do to keep them apart.

  Her father yelled and screamed and said lots of things John didn’t really focus on. Bottom line was this: Elizabeth was disowned. Neither she nor John were allowed back to the house where she grew up ever again.

  They got married that Monday in a ceremony that was short and sweet. Elizabeth wore an outfit she’d been given by the houseparents while she was pregnant. A flowing white gauzy dress with long sleeves that flared at the ends. John wore a suit, and the justice of the peace took their picture.

  A photograph John would keep forever.

  It wasn’t until three weeks later that the Wesleys sat them down for another meeting. Space was tight. Money tighter. They gave John and Elizabeth a week to find somewhere else to live.

  That afternoon John drove Elizabeth to Independence Lake Park. The irony hit John hard as they pulled in. Independence. They were hardly independent, now that they were about to be homeless. And it was there—in a parking spot overlooking the lake—that John remembered everything Wilson Gage had told him.

  He shared the story with Elizabeth, and the whole time she never looked away, never did anything but nod and wipe an occasional tear. At the end of the story Elizabeth said only this: “I think he’s right,
John. We can’t do this without God’s help.”

  And suddenly, John could feel his heart open up for the very first time. Yes, they needed God. They would never survive the coming week, let alone a lifetime together, unless they had the help of God Almighty. A God that John believed in now, because without His help John’s car would’ve broken down somewhere else.

  It was as if God Himself cared enough about John Baxter to let the oil leak out of his car at exactly the right time. And to place him right in the living room of a man whose story would change the course of John’s life forever.

  There in the car that day at the park, John and Elizabeth asked Jesus to forgive them for what they’d done, for going against His ways and for making such a mess of things. They gave their lives to the Lord and asked Him that one day they might find the son they’d lost.

  Then John prayed one more thing.

  That God would give Elizabeth and him a marriage and family so beautiful all the world would want to know their secret.

  23

  Ashley stood at the edge of the kitchen table and studied the finished project. Cole had gotten an A on it. As she looked over the letters and photos she realized even now, with the interviews over, the story stayed with her. And when she was alone—the way she was this morning—it made her cry.

  So much of their lives had been shaped by that summer. The choices that led to heartbreak and the fact that after that season, her father had made a commitment. He would never drink alcohol again. He and her mother both.

  The Bible made it clear that getting drunk was wrong, and so was making someone else stumble. “Doesn’t leave a lot of reasons to have a drink,” her father liked to say. So none of the Baxter family drank. They didn’t want to.

  Besides, they’d seen firsthand how much fun a family could have without alcohol, how much laughter and happy times. All of it around a glass of iced tea or a mug of coffee or hot chocolate.

  A lifestyle that began because of that long ago summer.

  That wasn’t all, of course. In the days before she died of cancer, Ashley’s mother begged God for the chance to see her baby boy. Hold him and kiss his cheek. Let him know that she’d never stopped loving him.

  And in what could only be a miracle, that grown-up boy came to her. There in the hospital he found her and told her who he was. He had hired a private investigator to find his birth parents, since his adoptive parents had been killed in a single-engine plane crash over an isolated jungle.

  Later that day, Ashley’s mother and father talked about the meeting. Her mother explained that she’d met their firstborn son. Ashley’s dad at first thought she was delusional, that she’d had a dream perhaps. He didn’t believe their firstborn son had actually found her and made peace with her. But eventually the boy found Ashley’s father, too, and confirmed the story. The meeting had happened.

  Their firstborn was Dayne Matthews. A Hollywood movie star known by the whole world. He was a Christian now, too. Long gone were his days of wild living and partying. Now he was part of them, at every holiday and summer barbecue. Married with three children and still celebrating the miracle of their reconnection.

  Thankful to finally be part of his family. The Baxter family.

  And of course the most dramatic thing to come from that summer was the way her parents turned their lives to God. How they grabbed on to His Word and never let go, never again let religion or mean people stand in the way of their faith.

  Just like Wilson Gage had prayed that long ago night.

  Ashley wiped at a few tears on her cheeks. She ran her fingers lightly over the copy of the photo at the center of the project board. The one the justice of the peace took of her parents the day they were married. “Mom, you were so beautiful.” Ashley smiled through her tears. “I wish I’d known you back then.”

  Ashley had always known that her parents had made mistakes. Learning about Dayne’s existence made it clear that no one was without fault. Not even her parents. But not until Cole’s project did Ashley truly understand the details of what had happened.

  She only wished she’d known about all this when her mother was still alive. So they could’ve sat across from each other and talked about it. How her mother must’ve felt much the way Ashley did when she came home from Paris.

  They had so much more in common than Ashley ever knew.

  She grabbed a tissue from the counter and dabbed at her eyes. The Memorial Day barbecue was tomorrow. She had lots to do today to get ready. The younger kids were working with Landon this afternoon cleaning up the backyard. Landon’s way of giving her time with Cole.

  Today was the day she was going to tell him what he wanted to hear. The details of his story. Ashley took a deep breath and tried to pull herself from the display in front of her.

  She was still at the table a few minutes later when Cole came bounding into the room. “You ready, Mom?”

  “Yes.” Ashley turned to face him. She smiled and tried to still the anxiety building within her. The next few hours would be critical to her relationship with Cole. “The car’s out front.”

  They drove to Lake Monroe, the place the Baxters often came when they wanted fresh air and space to think. Together they hiked partway down the main path, and at the first bench they stopped. “How’s this?” Ashley smiled at him. Please, God, don’t let him see how nervous I am.

  “Great.” Cole sat down beside her.

  For a while they looked out at the lake and didn’t talk. Warm temperatures had hit Indiana that weekend, and combined with the sun on the water the day was beautiful. Ashley broke the serenity between them first. “You did a beautiful job on your project.”

  “Thanks.” Cole smiled at her. “I’m glad you were part of it.” He turned so he could see her better. “I’ll always remember going through that with you.”

  Ashley looked into his face, her handsome older son. “At the end there, all I could think was how they lost their baby. And how their pain made them so much more understanding when I came home from Paris.”

  Cole nodded. “You got to keep me.” His eyes reflected the light off the water. “Like, the saddest part of Grandma and Papa’s story—giving up their son—made it easier for you to keep me. Because Grandma understood what you were going through.” He paused. “That’s so cool.” Then he reached over and took hold of her fingers for a brief moment. “You’ve been the best mother ever.”

  The best mother ever? The last thing Ashley wanted to do was cry. This talk was for Cole and about Cole. She needed to keep herself together. But the words Cole had just spoken would stay in her heart as long as she lived. She could always look back and think herself a terrible person, an accidental mother without a clue how to raise her son.

  But because of her mother, Ashley had learned from the best. Cole’s kind words were proof. What better endorsement could she ever have than that?

  He got to grow up with her . . . and she was the best mom ever.

  Ashley sniffed a few times and closed her eyes. She could do this, she could get through the story and not break down. Her son was counting on her. Her eyes opened. She took a sharp breath and lifted her face. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

  “It’s okay.” Cole rested his elbows on his knees and looked deep into her eyes. “So . . . I guess my first question is easy. How did you meet him? My dad?”

  The breeze off the lake could do nothing to take the edge off her sick stomach. She could picture him, Jean Claude. The handsome well-known artist who welcomed her into his studio and raved about her paintings. The man who filled her head with dreams of becoming his protégée. Yes, she could still see him. After all, his face still looked back at her every morning over breakfast.

  Ashley blinked a few times. “His name was Jean Claude. He was a famous artist with a studio in the heart of Paris.”

  “Wait.” Cole looked confused. “Mom? What are you talking about?”

  The confusion became hers. She shifted so she could see Cole better. “
Your father. Isn’t that what you want to know?”

  “No.” A slight laugh. “Mom . . . not him.” Cole shook his head. “I want to know about my dad.” He raised his brow. “You know, the one you married?”

  Her mind raced ahead of her heart and an understanding began to dawn in her soul. Could it possibly be? All this time? “You . . . want to know about Landon?”

  “Of course. He’s my dad.” This time Cole’s laugh came more quickly. As if he were truly astonished at the turn of events. “You’re so funny, Mom.”

  “I am?” Ashley felt light-headed. She pressed her back against the wooden bench so she wouldn’t feel as dizzy.

  “Yes.” Cole took her hand again. “Is that why you’ve been so worried?” His laughter died and compassion filled his expression. “You thought I wanted to know about some painter in Paris?” He shook his head. “That man wasn’t my father. Never.” He released his grip on her and sat up, his tone light. “Now that we have that out of the way, will you please tell me about my dad?”

  It was Ashley’s turn to laugh, and she did so without reservation. Head tipped back, rejoicing for the turn things had taken. Thank You, God . . . How wonderful is this? When she could breathe again she looked at Cole and felt her joy double. She was going to talk about Landon. The way she had practiced. The way she had wanted to from the beginning.

  And for the next hour that’s just what she did.

  On the way home, Ashley’s spirit felt lighter than it had in a month. She had given Cole what he had asked for. The details of his parents’ love story. When they were still a few minutes from home it occurred to Ashley again the importance of that single meeting, decades ago, between her father and Wilson Gage.

  The man had written to Cole and the two had shared a conversation. The details made it into Cole’s project and Cole earned his extra credit. But more than that, the man told Cole that whatever good he’d done for John Baxter had now come around to do good for him. He didn’t elaborate, but he did tell Cole this: I needed a good dose of my own advice. Run to Jesus. I’ll never stray from Him again.