Where was God in all this?
Everyone who had ever mattered to him believed in God—the God of the Bible. But how was he supposed to connect with that God now, even if he wanted to? The woman he loved was out of his life forever, and the mother of his child was determined to party and club her way through her sixth month of pregnancy.
What was he supposed to do in the meantime? Look for baby furniture? Pick out names?
The breeze was cold against his face, but he didn’t care. No matter how he sorted the details of his life, one truth seemed to resonate in his heart: God had never been in his corner. He’d lost everyone who had ever mattered to him, and all of them had an amazing faith. His parents had been forced to give him away, his adoptive parents had died on the mission field, and Katy Hart had walked away believing he was little more than a playboy.
The summary of events made Dayne utter a quiet, sarcastic laugh. No, God had never really been on his side. But even so, here he was—lost and alone—and wondering the way he’d wondered his whole life whether God was real, whether it really mattered how a person lived his life. And why the nicest people always put their trust in a God they couldn’t see.
Dayne gripped the railing tighter.
In all his life, there was one person who should’ve felt the same way, someone who had shared his upbringing and yet came out on the other end with a complete understanding and love for God.
His best friend from boarding-school days—Bob Asher.
Without overthinking the idea, he went back inside, grabbed the phone, and called the Indonesian boarding school for his missionary friend’s number.
Eunice—the same secretary who had been there when Dayne and Bob were students—answered. “Ah, yes. Dayne Matthews.” She didn’t seem to know about his celebrity. “You and that Bob Asher were quite a pair. Thick as thieves, the two of you.”
Dayne had no trouble getting the phone number for Bob and his wife in Mexico City. The guy worked as a missionary, of course. Same as his parents.
Dayne dialed the number and waited.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end was groggy.
Dayne squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, man. Sorry. I forgot how late it was.”
There were muffled sounds, and Bob yawned. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.” Dayne winced. “How ’bout there?”
“Hold on.” Bob must’ve sat up to see his alarm clock. “Almost one.”
“Hey, let me call you back tomorrow.”
“Is this Dayne?” The fog was obviously clearing from Bob’s brain. “Dayne Matthews?”
“Yeah, but, buddy, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Dayne slipped out through the deck door and sat on the sofa, the one he and Katy had shared when he told her the news. “I’ll call later.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Bob chuckled. “I’m awake now.” His tone was easygoing, the way it had always been. “What’s up?”
Dayne raked his fingers through his hair, and for a moment he was too choked up to speak. “A lot.” He bent over his knees and stared at the slats on his deck. “I have questions, Bob. About God.” He drew a long breath. “About a lot of things, I guess.” He shaded his forehead and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples. “I’d sorta like to see you, man.”
“Okay . . .” Bob didn’t sound surprised or overly anxious. The two were boyhood friends. No amount of fame could change that. Bob thought for a few seconds. “What’s your filming schedule?”
“Wraps up mid-March, the premiere for Dream On is a few days later, then a week of edits and reshoots.” The schedule felt like a lead blanket across the back of his shoulders. “I’m open the end of March.”
“Why don’t you come here?” Bob sounded wide-awake now. “Rosa and I would love to have you. If you dress right, you’ll get a lot less attention here than in the States.”
The idea sounded wonderful. Besides, by then he’d know what Kelly had decided, whether she was willing to move in and try to work out something with him for the sake of the baby, or whether she had other plans—plans that would leave him a weekend father at best. His throat felt thick. “You serious?”
“Of course. You could roll up your sleeves and work beside me. That way we’d have all day to talk.” He sounded sincere and kind, but something in his tone suggested that he understood. The questions Dayne had were both troubling and serious. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has.”
They made plans to talk again in a couple weeks before they ended the call.
Dayne stood and stared out across the beach once more. With practiced ease, he punched the buttons on his cell phone until Katy’s number appeared in the window. He could push the Send button and be moments away from talking to her.
He wouldn’t do it, of course. It was too late, and she didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But it felt good to look at her number, to know that he was seconds away from her if he wanted to be.
What would she be doing now? Working on Robin Hood, the play she’d talked about at the deposition. But had someone new come into her life, someone who could give her the love and devotion she deserved? He stared at the phone a little longer and then snapped it shut and slipped it into his pocket.
Work would have to keep him busy until he could board a plane for Mexico City. Until the shoot wrapped, he would put in twelve-hour days at least. Then the premiere and the edits and after the end of March he still might not have answers about Katy Hart or Kelly Parker.
But if he spent a few days with Bob, maybe he would have something even better, even more life changing. For the first time since he started looking, since he’d found and lost interest in Kabbalah and since he’d known about the faith of the Baxters and Katy, maybe he would have the one thing Dayne could never quite find.
Answers about God.
Plans for the family reunion were coming together quickly, and Ashley couldn’t wait. The timing was a little crazy— the reunion was set for two weeks before her due date—but her doctor hadn’t seen any reason she should deliver early. No, she wouldn’t be playing Frisbee on the shore of Lake Monroe with the kids, but she could do just about everything else.
The reunion was six weeks away, and Ashley was glad they were all getting together for dinner at her dad’s house tonight. Landon worked at the fire station until seven, so he’d join them later. Ashley picked Cole up from school and hugged him close.
“That baby’s sure getting in the way.” Cole grinned at her. He was on the final stretch of first grade and acting older every day. He flung his backpack into the van and buckled himself into the passenger seat. “We’re going to Papa’s, right?”
“After my errands.” She snapped her own seat belt and pulled back into traffic. “Sunset Hills first, okay?”
Cole’s eyes lit up. “I love that place. Can we stay a long time?”
“Not real long. I want to say hi to Helen and Bert.” She rested her head against her seat and kept her eyes on the road. It had been nearly a month since she’d stopped by Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, long enough for the staff to get comfortable with whoever had filled the latest vacancy.
Her friend Edith had died in January. Dear old Edith, the former beauty queen, the one who had screamed every time she looked in the mirror, believing she was being chased by a witch. Not until Ashley had covered the mirror with a sheet did Edith find any peace. Even so, her Alzheimer’s kept taking its toll on her mind, her health. She died in her sleep, her big brown Bible lying open beside her.
Cole shifted so he could see her better. “I kicked a boy today.”
The announcement jolted Ashley back to the moment. “Coley!” She cast a glance at her son. Cole was one of the kindest boys she’d ever known. His teachers had always said so. “Why would you kick someone?”
“He needed a kick, Mommy. No one else would give it to him.” He shrugged. “So I did.”
Ashley was tempted to pull over. She fought to keep her cool. “Cole,
no one needs a kick. Why don’t you tell me the story.”
“Okay, well, you know that mean guy in fourth grade, the one named Brent?”
“Yes.” Ashley turned onto Main Street. She was just a few blocks from Sunset Hills. “Brent McHouston, right?”
“Right.” Cole didn’t look or sound ruffled. Whatever had happened, he felt justified. “So there’s this kindergartener named Micah, only he’s a little guy, Mommy. Littler than all the other kindergarteners, and he’s got forever crutches.”
“Forever crutches?” Ashley gave Cole another quick look.
“Teacher said Micah has crutches forever, ’cause he was born that way. You know, Mommy. Forever crutches.”
“Okay.” Ashley felt her heart begin to melt. “So there’s Micah with his forever crutches . . .”
“And me and the boys were playing soccer, but here comes Micah on his forever crutches, real slow ’cause that’s how Micah always comes. Real slow. Only right at that ’zact moment Brent comes up and grabs one of Micah’s crutches.”
“No! That’s terrible.”
“I know!” Cole’s voice rose a notch. “It is terrible, Mommy. ’Cause Micah fell, and Brent ran all over the playground waving the crutch in the air. And then finally he came back to Micah and pointed at him and laughed.”
“He did?”
“Yes, and pointing and laughing are two of the meanest things, Mommy. Case you didn’t know.”
The light ahead of Ashley turned red, and she eased the van to a stop. Then she looked at Cole. “That’s even more terrible, Coley.”
“I know. It is more terrible. And all us boys were there watching from behind, but no one did anything about it. So finally I asked myself what Jesus would do if He was playing soccer beside me, you know?”
“Yes.” Ashley stifled a grin.
“And I figgered it out! Jesus would walk right up behind that bad ol’ Brent and kick him in the leg.” Cole smiled sweetly. “That’s how come I knew he needed a kick.”
“So . . .” Ashley could see where the story was going.
Cole gulped. “I walked right up to that boy and kicked him hard in the back of the leg. He dropped Micah’s crutch right then, and he turned around. That’s when I kicked him again; only that time I started running.” Cole giggled. “I ran and ran, faster and faster, Mommy. That Brent isn’t very fast, I found out. He stuck his tongue out at me before we went into class.”
“Oh.” Ashley ran the details through her head again. “So you actually kicked him twice?”
Cole thought a minute. He held up one finger, then another. He looked a little sheepish. “Two kicks. That’s what I meant. He needed two kicks.”
The light turned green, and Ashley looked straight ahead. “Did the playground teacher find out? I mean, did you have to go to the principal’s office?”
“Sort of.” Cole squirmed a little.
“Sort of?”
“Principal and I had a nice visit. So I didn’t really think it was the sort of visit where children get in trouble. He told me just because it seems like someone needs a kick, sometimes they just need someone to tell a yard teacher.”
“Coley . . .” Ashley gathered her thoughts. “You know better than to kick someone. Even someone mean like Brent McHouston.”
“But, Mom—” Cole held out both hands—“he dropped Micah’s crutch! Don’t you see? The kick worked.”
“I see.” Ashley had mixed feelings. Again she hid her smile. “Son, it was very nice of you to help Micah, especially when someone stole his crutch that way. But it’s never okay to kick someone.”
They spent the next few minutes talking about the other ways Cole could’ve helped Micah. Then they pulled up in front of Sunset Hills.
They were halfway up the sidewalk when Cole puffed out his chest. “Know what Micah said, Mommy? After he had his forever crutch back?”
“What?” She loved the feel of his hand in hers. Especially now, when life was about to get so much busier for all of them.
Cole looked up, his blue eyes sparkling. “He told me I was his hero, and that made me smile. Know why?”
“Why?” They reached the front door, but Ashley hesitated so Cole could finish his story.
“Because Daddy’s a hero, and if I’m a hero that means I’m ’zactly like him.” He grinned so big she could see the space where he was missing a tooth on the right side. “And what could be better than that?”
Ashley stooped down and hugged him. “I love you, Coley. Know that?”
“I know.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “You have to tell me it was wrong to kick bad Brent ’cause you’re a grown-up.” He gave her a serious nod. “I understand.”
They both laughed and spent the next half hour visiting with Helen and Bert. Both were doing better than ever, though Helen still made a point of asking whether the two of them had been checked, a habit she’d had since Ashley worked there. Helen was convinced that spies were trying to invade Sunset Hills.
“We’ve been checked, Helen.” Ashley patted her hand.
Helen looked doubtful. She squinted at Cole and pointed a gnarled finger in his direction. “That one’s okay. I recognize him.” She waved at the woman working in the kitchen. “He’s a firefighter. Put out a fire here once.”
Ashley grinned and slipped her arm around Cole’s shoulders. Nothing ever really changed at Sunset Hills. Some of the residents had moved on to heaven, no doubt. Precious Irvel and now Edith. But the atmosphere in the home was very much the same.
Bert still spent hours each day shining the saddle Ashley had bought for him on eBay. He was talking more than before, sometimes launching into stories from the old days, back when he was one of the greatest saddlemakers of his time.
The visit was full of warmth and laughter. Afterward Ashley and Cole picked up ingredients to make chili for dinner at her dad’s house. They pulled into the driveway of the old Baxter house just as a silver sedan was leaving. Ashley slowed enough to see the driver.
It was Elaine Denning. The woman who had been her mother’s friend years ago, the one who was spending time with her father these days. Obviously more time than any of them knew about. Elaine waved, and Ashley did the same. As she did, she felt a strange twist in her heart, a feeling that bordered on betrayal.
“Who’s that, Mommy?”
“She’s, uh . . .” Ashley swung her van around and parked near the garage. “She’s a friend of Papa’s.”
“Oh.” Cole unbuckled his seat belt. “She’s pretty.”
Cole’s comment grated on her. Elaine wasn’t pretty, not really. Nowhere near as pretty as her own mother had been. Elaine was short and gray-haired. She looked ten years older than her father. Not that it mattered—her father and Elaine were friends, nothing more.
Ashley and Cole walked to the front door and found her father sitting on the porch swing. The space beside him was empty, as if . . .
“Were you sitting here with Elaine?” Ashley stopped and studied her dad’s face. She motioned to Cole. “Sweetie, go check Papa’s frog pond.” It was in the low forties, warm enough that the sound of frogs was back again. She pointed to the pond. “See if there are any tadpoles yet.”
“Hey, you’re right! The ice is melted!” Cole waved at her father. “See you in a minute, Papa.” He ran full speed toward the pond.
When he was out of earshot, Ashley put her hand on her hip. “Well, am I right?”
“Listen.” Her father raised his brow at her. His tone remained calm. “Elaine’s my friend, and, yes, occasionally she and I sit here on the swing and talk about our lives.”
“Dad . . .” Ashley gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t say the first thing that came to mind. But even as she hated knowing that Elaine had sat next to her dad, in the place where her mother had always sat, she knew she was wrong to be angry. None of them had wanted to say good-bye to her mother. But this was all they had left, life without her. Was her father supposed to live alone the rest of his days, withou
t even a friend?
“Uggh . . .” She felt the fight leave her. She set the bag of groceries on the porch and sank down beside him on the swing. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He put his arm around her. With the slightest move, he set the swing in motion. “Deep inside—” his eyes met hers—“I don’t like it either. But it’s a nice day, and neither of us felt like sitting inside.”
For a few minutes Ashley didn’t say anything. Elaine and her father had a lot in common—both alone without the spouses they’d been with for decades. She watched Cole, bent over the pond, his fingertips in the cold water. Lord, give me the right words. My dad deserves more than my anger. She reached for her dad’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Okay. I’m glad you have a friend.”
“Thanks.” In his voice she heard relief. He patted her abdomen with his other hand. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good.” She sighed. “Tired but good. I feel like a walking house.”
“Your mother always felt that way when she was in her seventh month.” His eyes grew soft. “She used to say I would have to roll her out of the house to the hospital by the time the baby finally came.”
Ashley pictured that for a minute. She would’ve been too young to remember much about her mother as a pregnant woman. But hearing this detail now made her feel closer to her mom. Closer and farther away at the same time. “I miss her so much.”
“Me too.” Her dad’s eyes looked wet. “Even now it’s hard to believe I won’t see her again this side of heaven.”
“I know.” Ashley drew a long breath. “It seems weird, planning a reunion without her.”
Her father smiled, and his eyes glistened. “She’ll be there.”
Ashley nodded. Her dad was right. They couldn’t possibly have a week with all the Baxters gathered in one place and not feel her with them too. Ashley swallowed back the emotion filling her throat. She allowed a few seconds transition. “Who’s coming tonight?”
“Everyone around here. Kari and Ryan, Brooke and Peter, and all the kids.” He smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”