Family

  Kari and Ryan, Peter and Brooke moved in closer, looking from Dayne to their father. John saw Kari shoot a silent question at Ashley, and Ashley nodded.

  Dayne looked at them, each of them one at a time; then he found John again. He pressed his wrist to one eye and then the other, and suddenly John understood why he wasn’t talking. He couldn’t.

  But John couldn’t either. How was he supposed to explain the situation now that Dayne was here? Would the others understand? Would they even believe it was possible that Dayne Matthews was their brother? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so instead of talking he closed the gap between him and his firstborn. Ashley stepped aside, and he hugged Dayne hard and sure. “Thank you . . . for coming.” John could barely get out the words.

  “I had to.” Dayne whispered the words, so only John could hear them. “My sister invited me.” When they pulled back, the emotions left them both speechless again.

  Ashley looked at Kari and then at Brooke. “Everyone . . . I’d like you to meet our brother.”

  Understanding seemed to dawn on Kari and Brooke at the same time.

  Kari gasped and looked from Dayne to John. “He’s our . . . ?”

  John still couldn’t find his voice. He only nodded and wiped at the tears on his cheeks.

  Brooke stepped up first. She went to Dayne and started to hold out her hand. Then she changed her mind and threw her arms around his neck. “Welcome, brother.” She held on several seconds, and when she let go, her face was wet too. “I’ve been praying we might meet you.”

  The shock faded from Kari’s face, and it was her turn. She, too, hugged Dayne. “Now we know—” she searched his face—“why you and Luke look so much alike.”

  “Yes.” He smiled, but John could see the loss in his eyes. The years they’d missed would always be a source of sorrow. Dayne looked from Ashley to Kari to Brooke. “I never thought this day would come.”

  Multiple conversations broke out, and in the background little Ryan started crying for his mother. Ashley’s baby was still asleep in his car seat a few feet up the hill, but the other children seemed to sense something big was taking place. They joined the circle as the men shook Dayne’s hand, welcoming him and making small talk.

  “Hey!” Landon broke free from the group and scrambled for his fishing rod. “I’ve got it! Look, for real this time!” His pole had been sitting against a log, his hook and bait in the water, same as John’s. As he reached the rod, he jerked it back, and like before, he dug in his heels and began cranking his reel at a record pace. Just as he pulled up another clump of driftwood, John’s rod began to move.

  “Here I come!” John held up his hand and began jogging toward his pole. All the grandkids followed him, like an impromptu Fourth of July parade. Even though John walked on the treadmill every day, he was breathless when he reached his pole and grabbed it, careful to keep the tension in the line. He reeled and reeled, while beside him his grandkids cheered.

  “Papa!” Hayley, who was walking better every day, clapped. “Big fishie!”

  “There’s no way you’ve got a fish on that line!” Landon tossed his rod on the ground and moved in closer.

  Behind them, John heard Dayne ask what was at stake, and Kari explained the contest. The tension built as John turned the reel again and again.

  “Wow!” Cole jumped four times in place. “Papa, you beat my daddy good this time.”

  John started to bring the fish in. It had to be eighteen inches long—more than twice the size of anything Landon had caught.

  Cole rushed up to help him unhook it and slip it into the bucket. “Fish tonight!” Cole raised his fist in the air. Then almost as quickly, his smile faded and he looked at Landon. “Sorry, Daddy.”

  Landon held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine.” He kicked off his shoes, cleared a path through the children, ran down the shore and into the water.

  The kids cheered and danced along the sandy beach, pointing at Landon and laughing.

  When Landon was waist deep, he flopped backward and disappeared underwater. A few seconds later he burst back through the surface, his face taken up by a huge smile. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “There,” he shouted, “I hope you’re all happy!”

  “Come get me, Daddy!” Cole stripped down to his bathing suit and scurried toward the water.

  John watched all the activity quietly. A long time ago, when he and Elizabeth first married, they took a trip to Fort Myers Beach. Not far from their hotel was a flower garden, and one day on their walk to the water Elizabeth picked a bright red rose. She stopped, the ocean spread out behind her, placed the rose between her teeth, and faced him. “Take it,” she mumbled through her clenched teeth.

  John remembered how his heart had melted. “What am I going to do with you?” He took the rose and held it close. “I fall more in love with you every day, Elizabeth Baxter.”

  “Then take a picture.” Her tone had been playful. She took the rose back from him. “That way you’ll never forget.”

  He’d laughed and raised his eyebrows at her. “One problem. I don’t have my camera.”

  “I know.” She made a silly face and put the flower between her teeth again. With her jaw clenched she managed to say, “Take a mental picture.”

  Take a mental picture.

  It was something the two of them had said to each other often through the years, raising their children and living everyday life. Whenever something happened that they wanted to remember forever.

  Now John looked at his older son—the child he never thought he’d meet—talking and laughing as if he’d always been a part of their family. They had a lot to work through. Erin and Sam and Luke and Reagan needed to know the news, and one day—hopefully one day soon—everyone would find a way to be together. But for now, he could hardly believe the scene playing out bigger than life before him.

  As the afternoon wore on and boats zigzagged across Lake Monroe in the distance, John studied Dayne and he could see the resemblance, the way he moved like Luke and laughed like Ashley. Everything else faded as he watched Kari put her hand on Dayne’s shoulder and whisper something close to his ear and Dayne chuckle as if whatever she’d told him was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He watched Ashley chatting with Katy, and that’s when he saw it. The ring on her finger. And he knew—he just knew—that Dayne had asked her to marry him.

  He watched Brooke and Peter chasing Hayley and Maddie along the damp sand and Brooke take hold of Dayne’s arm as she ran by, looping around him and using him as a decoy, and Dayne laughing hard as he joined in the chase.

  As John watched his family at play, his heart hurt for missing Elizabeth. She would’ve loved this moment. God, please let her see that it’s happening. Dayne’s really becoming a part of our family.

  He smiled because he could feel the Lord’s hand on his family, their relationships, and everything about the moment. There would always be trials—Jesus promised that much. But with his family together, they could get through anything. Then, his eyes never leaving the happy scene, he captured it in his heart and did what Elizabeth would do.

  He took a mental picture. One that would last until he drew his final breath.

  The picnic was over, and Dayne hadn’t had so much fun in all his life. Not at movie premieres or nightclubs or on location—not ever. Katy sat beside him as they drove out of the parking lot. They were headed to the Baxter house, where Landon had asked him to help light the kids’ sparklers.

  They rode in silence, not because Dayne didn’t have anything to say. More because Katy understood him, understood that this was something he needed to savor—the feeling he had after spending a few hours with the Baxters.

  He held Katy’s hand and couldn’t get the smile off his face. “It’s amazing.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have to ask what he meant.

  Every time they’d had a minute alone, Dayne had gushed about how wonderful they were, how funny and well connected.

&nbs
p; She would laugh at him because she’d known them first. “Of course they’re wonderful.” She’d give him a kiss. “They’re related to you.”

  There was a slight sorrow to the feeling of joy because this was what he’d missed. All those years alone, living in LA, he’d missed watching his siblings grow up and get married and have babies. He’d missed birthdays and Christmas mornings and graduations. He’d missed more than he could even comprehend.

  But he wouldn’t dwell on that. God had given him this day, and somehow God would give him tomorrow with the Baxters as well. He and Katy, living in Bloomington, spending summer afternoons here at the lake with Ashley and Landon, Kari and Ryan, Brooke and Peter. And their wonderful kids.

  Dayne still wasn’t sure how it would come together, how he would create a life with Katy and the Baxters and still fulfill his contracts with the studio, or how he would ever live a normal life—the way he’d lived it this afternoon. But he didn’t need all the answers. God would take care of that part too.

  Because being with his family had given him a feeling he’d never known before. He could hardly wait for the evening, setting off sparklers in the Baxters’ driveway, catching fireflies with the little girls, and sitting around getting to know his sisters and their husbands. The emotion was more than he could put into words.

  He was following Ashley and Landon’s Durango, and he wondered if maybe the sensation was one of freedom. Appropriate for an Independence Day celebration. Because he’d escaped the paparazzi for a few days. But as the Durango slowed, as it turned into a long driveway that cut through a vast grassy field and headed toward a beautiful country house, complete with a wraparound porch, he suddenly realized what the feeling was.

  It didn’t come from the freedom he was experiencing. The emotion came because for the first time he felt the sense of belonging, of being connected to people who cared about him, not because of what he’d done but because of who he was. The feeling of love and laughter and acceptance and encouragement—completely unscripted.

  Dayne smiled as he parked his rented SUV, as he squeezed Katy’s hand and looked through the windshield at the Baxter house.

  The feeling became more obvious with every heartbeat because it was something he’d longed for, for a lifetime.

  The feeling of family.

  A Word from Karen Kingsbury

  Dear Reader Friends,

  It gets harder and harder to write these books, because I know each one takes me closer to the last book—the last time I’ll write about the Baxters and Katy and Dayne and the Flanigans. I still have a while, of course. One more book in the Firstborn series, then four books in the Sunrise series—which will focus on the Flanigans but will include constant involvement with the Baxters and Katy and Dayne.

  The other day I was at a book event in Pennsylvania, meeting many of my reader friends, when one woman put it perfectly. “I love these books because the Baxters are family to me.”

  I guess I realized it then. The reason these series will be hard to wrap up is because the characters feel like family to me too. They sort of live in the recesses of my mind, and even when I’m not writing about them I can check in with them and see how they’re doing.

  I know . . . that sounds a little crazy. My husband always teases me about my close connection with these fictional people. He often says that when I’m old and forgetful, I’ll probably get our kids and my characters mixed up. “I can just hear you,” he says, “saying, ‘That Ashley! She never calls, never writes!’”

  We share a good laugh over it, but there’s a deeper truth that always stands out when we talk about these series—the importance of family.

  One of the key things I felt God wanted me to illustrate with the Firstborn series was that nothing compares to having a family. Not fame or success or wealth or popularity, not having the right job or the right car or the right clothes. All of that can get us by, and to the world we can look like we’re doing pretty well. But without family, it’s a lonely life we come home to.

  Now I know some of you reading this are thinking you’d give anything to have a family. Your lonely life has not come by your choosing. For you, I can only say hold on. God wants you involved with people. If your biological family has died or moved away, He wants you teaching a Sunday school class or attending a small group, joining an outreach ministry, or volunteering at the church library. Churches are supposed to be families, and whether you have one waiting for you at home or not, becoming part of a church family will make your life rich.

  That said, most of you do have a biological family—a group of ragtag people who don’t always say and do the right things but who gather around the dinner table with you each night or show up at birthdays and Christmastime. Think about those people. That’s something I did as I wrote this book; I spent a lot of time thinking about my family.

  God has put your family members in your life for a reason. They may not all be lovable, but they all need loving. Sometimes getting past the hurts and strained relationships that can come up in families is as simple as making a choice to love.

  And so I thought I’d share three things that our families need from us—whether children, siblings, parents, or distant relatives. These are things I’ve noticed while raising a family these past seventeen years. They need our time, our touch, and our testimony.

  Time is fleeting, no question. Around our house we smile and say, “Time is a thief!” and it’s true. I like telling how one spring day my husband and I dragged our kids from a quaint play area at SeaWorld and hurried them across the park to the sea lion show.

  Out of breath and a few minutes late, we hurried to the top of the stairs and searched for a seat. There was one row still open, about two-thirds of the way down. I pointed at it and took off, but there was a problem. The steps alternated in width—big, small, big, small—and while my foot fit nicely on the first step, I completely missed the second one.

  The tumble down those stairs caught the attention of the entire stadium—including the sea lions, who were already onstage. Many people turned their video cameras toward me thinking I was part of the show. To make matters worse, I had on a backpack full of our kids’ belongings, so as I rolled and fell and sputtered, things were preceding me down the stairs. Water bottles, combs, ChapStick, apples. I was truly a sight.

  As it turned out, I stopped rolling and falling right at the empty row. I stood up, waved off the crowd, and motioned for my husband—still standing shell-shocked at the top of the stairs—to bring the children and join me.

  Later, when I was certain I had no broken bones, I took stock of the fiasco and realized something. What was my hurry? It was supposed to be a day with the kids, time to make memories together and appreciate the sights at the park. Why didn’t I stay at the quaint play area and push my kids on the swings? Couldn’t we have caught a later viewing of the sea lion show?

  The ordeal reminded me that our families need time. National statistics say that most parents spend only three minutes each day having one-on-one time with their kids. Let’s make sure we spend more time than that with the people we love.

  Our families also need our touch. A pat on the back, a hand hold, a hug—these are very real ways to communicate love. A study on the power of touch was conducted at a Korean orphanage. Babies were split into two groups. The first received only nominal, standard care as was the practice at the facility. The second group was given fifteen minutes additional time in the arms of the workers. During that period, the babies were cradled and cooed at, their tiny arms and legs stroked by the workers.

  The results of the study were mind-boggling. The babies in the second group thrived beyond anyone’s imagination. They gained weight and height and head circumference and suffered 90 percent fewer illnesses. Though the study lasted just six weeks, the benefits could be seen in the babies until their first birthdays.

  Please . . . hug the people in your life. Let them know you care. My brother who died this past October was an amazing
hugger. He couldn’t always say the words, but I knew he loved me because of his hugs.

  Finally, the people you love need your testimony, your story. Every one of you reading this has a story, something you’ve overcome or a lesson you’ve learned. A journey of faith. Take time to work your history into the conversations you have with your families.

  My husband was one of those few young men who—when I met him—made it clear that he wanted to be sexually pure. His dedication to God turned my head and made me take a long look at faith. Eventually I gave my life to the Lord because of what I saw in him. Now it’s up to us to share that story with our children so they’ll understand purity in a very personal way.

  In some ways I see all of you as part of my extended family. If you’ve read these books, then you already know a great deal about my heart. When we connect through my Web site (www.KarenKingsbury.com) on the pages dedicated to discussion or prayer requests and through my weekly journal of happenings or at one of my events, I truly feel like I’m meeting a friend. I pray for you daily, that God would use the power of story to deepen your faith and change your relationships. How awesome is our God that He gives us these fictional people to teach us truths that can help us every day. They help me; I know that.

  By the way, I’m starting a new and ongoing contest. Each spring I will pick one winner and fly that person and a friend out to the Pacific Northwest for a summer day with me and my family. We’ll see the sights and share meals and laughter and make memories we won’t forget.

  Here’s how you enter.

  Share a Book—Spend a Day with Karen Contest

  1. Lend one of my novels to someone you know, someone who hasn’t read one before. This person can be a friend, a neighbor, a cashier at your local grocer, someone at church, or a family member. Even a stranger. Anyone who hasn’t read a Karen Kingsbury book. Life-Changing Fiction isn’t life-changing unless it’s being read.