Someday

  Luke pushed his toes deep into the sand. It was hard to believe this was really his life, practicing law from a beachfront movie location somewhere in Mexico. Away from home, things were better than he ever could’ve dreamed. He surveyed the others gathered in groups of two or three around the fire. A few members of the cast were roasting marshmallows, lost in quiet conversations. Dayne was talking about the TV show For Real and how it should be against the law to produce something so false and call it reality when they were approached by the movie’s director and one of the producers, guys Luke had met earlier.

  “Matthews, we were looking at dailies from earlier this week. Brilliant stuff, man.” The director put his hand on Dayne’s shoulder.

  “You got a minute, though?” The producer nodded toward the beach bungalow that was serving as the editing room. Luke had heard about it in a tour of the set before dinner. The producer made a concerned face at Dayne. “We want you to see something. The way the lighting’s falling on you, we might want a few retakes from the other day.”

  “Or maybe you’ll like it.” The director started walking up the beach. “Come take a look. It’ll just take a minute.”

  “You got it.” Dayne glanced at Luke. He leaned closer so no one else could hear him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Luke laughed, and he managed to sound relaxed. He gripped both armrests of the chaise lounge he was stretched across. “Come on.” He kept his voice low. “Be serious.” On the other side of Luke, Randi was talking to someone else.

  Dayne stood and gave Luke a wary look. “I am serious,” he mouthed. He waved his thumb in Randi’s direction and whispered, “She’s trouble.”

  Another ripple of easy laughter came from Luke. “Go get your work done.”

  The men were already several yards ahead of Dayne, headed to the bungalow. Dayne held Luke’s eyes a few seconds longer. “Be right back.”

  “Okay.” Luke turned toward the fire and tried to believe this was really happening, that he was really here rubbing elbows with top movie stars. More than that, he wasn’t a visitor or a fan on the set. He was part of the crew—the lawyer for Dayne Matthews.

  It was heady stuff but not nearly as heady as what had happened during dinner. Dayne had been talking to a few of the other crew members, and Luke was in line getting his chicken when Randi had walked up. She stopped inches from him and leaned close to his ear. “Sit next to me at the bonfire, okay?” She gave him a look that could only be described as direct. “You intrigue me, Luke Baxter. I want to get to know you better.”

  That was all, nothing more until someone lit the fire and a few guys set canvas chairs around the circle. Luke was walking over, Dayne right beside him, when Randi came up and linked arms with him. “Don’t forget, Luke. I’ve got the seat beside you.”

  But since they’d circled around the fire, Randi had seemed distracted by another conversation until Dayne left. Even before he reached the bungalow, Randi turned to Luke. She leaned her head back, and for a while she smiled at him, her face lit by the glow of the flames. She was sipping what was maybe her third glass of wine, and she looked a little more than relaxed. “We should’ve met a long time ago.” Her voice wasn’t slurred, but it was softer than before, meant for only him.

  “We should have.” Luke wasn’t sure what to say or how to take her. Was she coming on to him, or was this part of her act, how she treated everyone on the set? Or maybe her interest was just her way of making him feel welcome. He focused on the reason he was here. “As legal work goes, this is a great place for business.” He studied her face. “Dayne says you’re looking for a new attorney.”

  “I am.” Some of her over-the-top giddiness disappeared, and she looked more like a lost little girl than a famous movie star. She crossed her arms and stared into the fire pit. “That’s not what I meant.”

  A strange swirling began in Luke’s stomach. Butterflies tickled at his insides and made him shift in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

  He didn’t have to squirm long before Randi turned to him again. “Walk with me.” She held out her hand, and her expression was utterly innocent. “I meant what I said. I’d like to get to know you better.” She stood and gave him a gentle pull until he was on his feet. As she did, she looked over her shoulder toward the bungalow where Dayne was getting in a few minutes of work. “Don’t worry about what your brother said.” Her smile was sweet and a little shy. “I won’t get you in trouble. I just want to hear more about you.”

  Luke’s head was spinning, but he could hardly argue with her. After all, she wasn’t making any hidden or overt suggestions. She was merely asking him to take a walk. Her hand in his sent chills down his legs, and he thought about Reagan. “Well . . .” He released Randi’s fingers and casually wiped his palms on his shorts. He could take a walk with her, but he couldn’t hold her hand. Dayne could come out of the bungalow at any minute. If he saw Luke holding Randi’s hand, he’d chase them down and drag Luke back to his chair.

  They walked toward the water and headed up the beach to the right, where the stretch of sand was pitch-dark.

  When they were well out of visibility from the people around the fire, Randi hugged herself and slowed her pace. “We could walk for miles this way and not run into anyone.” She lifted her face to the sky and the millions of stars that were visible now that they weren’t near the light of the fire. “The location guys did a great job with this one. We’re supposed to be in the middle of nowhere.” She smiled at him, and again she looked shy. “And we are.”

  Luke swallowed. “It sure feels that way.” A part of him screamed that he should turn around, lead her back the other way, where they’d at least be closer to people. But a more compelling part wanted to play this out, to see what Randi wanted to talk about and why she felt the need to walk where the beach was more remote.

  They were another fifty yards down the beach, Randi making small talk about her love of Mexico and the warmth of the people, when the cell phone in her jean shorts rang. She stopped, and a concerned look flashed on her face. “My mom’s been trying to reach me. I better take this.” She pulled the phone out, snapped it open, and turned toward the water. “Hello?”

  For a few seconds, Randi stayed frozen that way, listening. Then she brought her fingers to her mouth and gave a few quick shakes of her head. “No, Mama, you can’t be.” Her breath caught in her throat, and she uttered a slight cry. “No . . . I can’t leave here this week. You know that. . . .” She managed a few more short sentences before she hung up and dropped the phone back into her pocket.

  Luke crossed his arms and hesitated, not sure what to say. “You wanna be alone?”

  “No.” She hung her head, her body still facing the water. “My mom . . . she has cancer. We lost my dad to it more than a year ago, and now . . . I can’t believe it.” She lifted one shoulder. There were tears in her voice when she tried to talk this time. “My mom says it’s very fast moving. She only has a few weeks. I have to get home as soon as possible.”

  An image of his mother lying in bed those last days before her death filled Luke’s mind. “My mom died of cancer.” He kept his distance, but he wanted her to feel his comfort. “It’s a terrible thing. She was in her fifties. Way too young to die.”

  “My dad was the same. Just fifty-seven.”

  Luke groaned. “I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to get through something like that.”

  “But you’ve been there.” Randi turned to him, studying his face as if she might find some answer to the pain in her heart. “You know what it’s like.”

  “I do.” He couldn’t help but move closer to her. She was hurting, racked by a type of pain Luke knew too well. With his thumb he brushed her blonde hair back from her face. “You and your mom are close?”

  “Not really. I was closer to my dad. He was the best man in the world.” She smiled at him, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Strong believer, great family man.” Without making any obvious move, she se
emed to be closer than before, just inches from him. “Before he got sick, he could always make me laugh. Even in the midst of my marriage falling apart.” She blinked and a pair of tears slid down her cheeks. “I always figured I’d get closer to my mom later, when we were both older. Only now . . .”

  Without giving his actions any thought, without meaning anything other than a show of comfort, Luke pulled her close and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Randi.” He allowed their embrace to continue, and as he did, she began to cry. The wine might’ve affected her emotions, made it easier for her to break down. But the moment wasn’t about being drunk or about a one-night stand or even a bit of flirting. It was nothing of the kind. Luke was merely there for her at the right time, right place. Offering Randi the very thing he had needed when his mother was dying.

  Someone who understood.

  Dayne wasn’t gone ten minutes, but as he returned to his place around the fire, his stomach fell to his knees. Luke was gone. Randi too. He didn’t want to draw attention to the pair, didn’t want some gofer to hear his concerns and alert the paparazzi. People on the set felt no guilt in passing tips to cameramen. The tabloids paid big money for insider information, and photographers representing all the major magazines were staying at a hotel a few miles away.

  No, Dayne couldn’t bring attention to the matter. Instead he walked slowly toward the water. What was wrong with his brother, anyway? The thing he loved about the Baxter family was that they were the kind of people Hollywood knew nothing about. They loved God and their families, and they found a way to make everyday life something worth seeking after, something worth finding, whatever the cost.

  But here was Luke Baxter, off somewhere with Randi Wells, while his wife and babies waited for him at home in Indiana. Dayne kept walking until he was out of the glare of the bonfire. Then he peered down the beach in either direction. But even as his eyes adjusted, he saw nothing, no sign of them.

  God, stop him from doing anything he’ll regret. Dayne breathed the prayer, but as he walked back up the sandy slope toward the fire, he felt more defeated than he had all week. He missed Katy. Tonight he would stay up as late as he had to in order to find a few minutes when they could talk. Dayne considered how the evening might go, and he realized a late night might be just what was needed. Not only for the precious few minutes with Katy, but so he could babysit his brother.

  He frowned as he dropped into his beach chair. Of course, that was providing Luke and Randi even found their way back to the bonfire at all.

  John had been this nervous only a handful of times. He and Elaine were driving to Red Lobster—nothing overly fancy, but John had reserved their favorite booth, the one in the corner of the back room. That way they’d have more privacy. But he wasn’t going to ask the question there of all places. After dinner he would take her to the Indiana University campus, and they’d walk. Somewhere along the way, he was praying God would give him the nerve to make his move.

  As he drove, he remembered how different things had been decades ago when he asked Elizabeth to marry him. By then they’d been through so much together, they felt like they’d been married five years. Elizabeth had gotten pregnant and had a baby, and she’d been sent away and forced to give up the child without either of them having a say in the situation.

  By the time she came home and they were allowed to be together again, the marriage certificate was more a formality. Nothing could’ve made them closer than the consequences of their actions already had.

  Tonight was entirely different.

  John was in his sixties, and a small voice kept insisting that the idea of remarriage at his age was ridiculous. But every time his thoughts took that turn, he remembered what Ashley had told him: “Mom would’ve wanted you to live. . . .” And then his mind would drift to one of the letters Elizabeth had written to him.

  He’d read it so many times that he knew the important parts; they played in his heart one more time as he focused on the road ahead. We’re not as young as we once were, she’d written, and I want you to know, whatever happens in the years to come, you must choose life. We both must. Every day we wake up with another twenty-four hours.

  “Lots on your mind?” Elaine had her hands folded neatly over her purse, which lay on her lap. She wore dark slacks and a pretty wool sweater woven with fall colors. Her hair looked nice, as usual, but he had a feeling she’d done something special with it today.

  “I guess so.” John reached out and took hold of her hand. His voice was gentle, and his heart beat hard in anticipation of all the night held. “You look pretty. I don’t think I told you yet.”

  She smiled, and with his hand in hers, she seemed to relax a little. “I had my hair done today.”

  “I thought so.” He surveyed her. “You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”

  “Credit the darkness for that.” She laughed and looked out the window. As her laughter faded, she turned to him again. “How are the repairs coming?”

  “It’s been eleven days since the fire.” John liked this, the diversion from the velvet box in his pocket. He focused on his answer. “A construction company’s already gutted the garage. Took it down to bare beams. Then a few days ago I had an electrician in. He’s rewiring the attic and the garage walls, but he’s checking the whole house too.”

  “It was squirrels, right? That’s what they found?”

  “Yes. There was a vent on the back side of the house a few feet from one of the old maple trees. Apparently there was a family of squirrels in the tree that probably got in through the vent last winter.”

  John explained how the electrician had taken him up into the attic and shown him the animal droppings and matted fur and the gnawed wires not far away. “It could happen to anyone. The electrician said people with attics should check them for animals a couple times a year.”

  “I need to have mine checked.”

  “Anyway . . .” They were almost to the restaurant, and John switched lanes. “They gave me an estimate of mid-November.”

  “Really?” Elaine sounded surprised. “That’s pretty fast.”

  “The main contractor’s a friend of mine. I helped his daughter when she had pneumonia a few years back.” He turned left into the Red Lobster parking lot. “He says this is his chance to make it up to me.”

  “That way you can have Thanksgiving with your family, everyone gathered at the Baxter house.”

  “Yes.” John fell quiet. Elaine had meant nothing deep by her comment, but it reminded him that this would be the very last time they would all gather at the Baxter house for Thanksgiving. He pushed away the thoughts, but they left a sting of sadness that stayed until he and Elaine were seated. Then, the way he’d done so many times lately, he reminded himself of the lesson God had given him the day of the fire. Memories didn’t need a house in order to be real. They could celebrate Thanksgiving just as easily in a new house, the one John intended to buy for himself and Elaine. If only he could get up the nerve later tonight to pull the ring box from his pocket.

  “You’re invited, you know. For Thanksgiving.”

  Elaine’s smile was shy and maybe colored with a hint of anticipation. As if she possibly had an idea about what might be coming after dinner.

  John couldn’t put too much thought into what she was thinking. It was all he could do to focus on the menu and order his dinner.

  When they were finished eating, when they were back in the car, John took a quick breath and rubbed his hands together. “It’s cold.”

  “Colder than it’s been. But not too bad.”

  John realized he probably sounded like a nervous teenager, but he couldn’t help himself. He was shivering more from nerves than the weather. “Remember that pathway across the campus I told you about?”

  “The one that stays partially lit all night long?”

  “Right. Lined with trees all decked out in reds and yellows.” John blew on his hands. “If it’s okay, let’s take a walk out there.”

  Elaine he
sitated long enough to smile. “Okay. I brought my coat.”

  “Me too. And I have a couple scarves in the back. In case it’s windy once we get on campus.”

  Her eyes danced. “You’re the most thoughtful man I know, John Baxter.”

  They drove to the campus and parked in the lot on the south side, near the entrance off 3rd Street. John climbed out and circled the car for Elaine. “Here.” He opened the back door, reached inside, and pulled out her long coat. “Get this on.”

  “At least it isn’t windy.”

  “No, but we can use the scarves anyway.” Anything to ward off the chills he was feeling. He grabbed the two red scarves from the backseat and handed one to her. “I picked these up downtown a few years ago.”

  “Mmmm. So soft.”

  Their hands touched as he helped her with the collar of her coat. John realized that his palms were sweaty. God, could You help me here . . . please? I feel like a kid on a first date.

  My son . . . I know the plans I have for you. . . .

  The verse whispered across his heart and allowed him to exhale. How good God was, caring about his nervous prayer in a moment like this. The Scripture was the exact one he and Elizabeth had shared with their children so often through the years. God had plans for them, good plans.

  Now the Lord was reminding him that the words didn’t apply only to his children, but to him too. They applied to the new life with Elaine that would start on this very night.

  With that in mind, John’s tension eased. As they set out on the path, he offered Elaine his arm, and she took hold of it with both hands. They wound their way up a small hill and then out onto the lower end of campus. “See . . . isn’t it nice here?”