Someday

  So what about the unborn babies of single mothers, babies of women who were frightened and not sure what to do next? The abortion clinic couldn’t be their only option. Suddenly with a determination she hadn’t felt since Hayley’s accident, Brooke knew what she had to do next. She had to make a difference. Ashley was right; the town needed its crisis pregnancy center open again, and she and Peter had the resources and connections to make sure that happened.

  Her heart kept time with the fast click of her heels against the tile floor. I want this, God. I want to make a difference for girls who think their only choice is—

  She stopped short, and her prayer dropped off. To her left were a wall of windows and a door leading to a terrace, where visitors could find fresh air and solitude after a hospital visit. It was empty, and Brooke moved slowly through the door toward the far corner of the space. She grabbed hold of the railing and stared into the grove of trees surrounding that side of the hospital.

  How many times had an abortion come at her recommendation when there was a poor diagnosis about a baby’s health or when the mother was certain she didn’t want a baby? Especially back in the days before she and Peter found the faith her parents had always shared. A parade of faces flashed in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Forgive me, God, for what I’ve done. Forgive me . . . please.

  The prayer became a tortured echo, reverberating through her heart and mind and soul. Brooke could hardly move forward in an effort to protect girls from the choice of abortion without first recognizing the role she’d played in making them happen. She tightened her grip on the railing. Lord, I didn’t understand life until Sarah. If I could only take back every time . . .

  A warm breeze blew across the terrace, soft against her face. Only then did she realize she had tears on her cheeks. She swiped at them and hung her head. How could she put her name to a crisis pregnancy center when people would know her former stance on abortion? She had viewed it as a medical procedure, a woman’s prerogative. Nothing more. She looked up through the trees to the blue beyond. God . . . are You there?

  A stirring started, first in her heart and then in the depths of her being. There was no audible answer, but the presence of the Lord was tangible. She was forgiven, because that’s what God’s Word promised. Christ had died for her sins—even the sins of sending women to an abortion clinic. Now . . . now it was time for her to move forward.

  Brooke took a long breath and then, with a new resolve from God alone, she turned and headed back into the hospital. As she walked to see her next patient, the feeling of God’s Spirit stayed with her.

  When her morning rounds were behind her, she walked back to her office and found a voice mail message from Ashley. “I had to call you back. I was reading the Bible, sitting in Sarah’s room.” Her voice was clear despite the heaviness of sorrow. “I stumbled onto Isaiah 43.” She paused. “Brooke, I know you, and if you’re considering my idea about the crisis pregnancy center, I know what you’re thinking. You always expect perfection, and . . . well, you can be pretty hard on yourself. Anyway, read verses 18 and 19. I think they’ll show you God’s heart, the way they showed it to me.” Another pause. “Love you. Call me.”

  There were years when Brooke wouldn’t have considered keeping a Bible in her office. But after the tragedy with Hayley, Peter had given her a leather-bound edition with her name engraved on the front. She pulled it from the nearest shelf and ran her fingers over the engraved silver wording at the bottom. Dr. Brooke West. Peter’s way of telling her he believed in her, that he would never again doubt her abilities as a doctor.

  She set the Bible on her desk and flipped to Isaiah 43. Moving her finger down the page, she came to the verses Ashley had recommended. Starting with verse 18, she began to read. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”

  Brooke blinked and read the verses again, more slowly this time. As she did, tears stung at her eyes. She really was forgiven. More than that, she was loved. Ashley’s call told her that much. What were the odds that Ashley would read this passage today? Or that she would call and say so? Brooke touched the page and let the words wash over her one more time. Then she pulled a pen from her desk drawer and underlined the verses. “See, I am doing a new thing!”

  On a day when she felt more conflicted than ever about her prior decisions, the verses seemed perfectly written for her. God, is this Your answer? She swallowed and imagined the crisis pregnancy center, the one Bloomington so desperately needed. The message from Isaiah was unmistakable. Let go of the past. . . . The Lord was doing something new in her life.

  Streams of life across a wasteland of regret.

  I hear You, Lord. I feel You. I won’t miss this opportunity; I promise.

  As she closed the Bible, as she glanced at her watch and collected herself for her next appointment, she became convinced of two things. First, she would talk to Peter later tonight about the need for the center. She would explain how God had led her onto the terrace and how He had forgiven her. And she would tell him about the verses in Isaiah.

  And second, when the center was ready to open, when the first girls began seeking an option other than abortion, it would have the only possible name. A name that would forever memorialize the tiny baby who had changed everything.

  The name would be Sarah’s Door.

  The moon splashed rays of light through the screen door in Dayne and Katy’s bedroom. Dayne rolled onto his side. They had just two days left before reality would crash in on them, and Dayne couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to waste a moment of it. He turned his attention to the digital clock on Katy’s bedside table—11:15. Not that late, really. And the breeze off the lake was warmer than usual. An Indian summer night.

  An idea began to form first in his mind, then deep in his heart, and Dayne couldn’t shake it. He touched Katy’s shoulder. “Hey . . .”

  When she didn’t respond, he tried again. “Katy.” He kept his voice soft. “Baby, wake up.”

  Slowly she opened her eyes, and as she did, concern filled her expression. “Dayne—” she was breathless—“is everything okay?”

  “Shhh.” He ran his knuckles slowly against her cheek. “Wanna take a walk?” He could feel the pleading in his expression. They needed this, needed to soak in every moment while they were still in Bloomington. Before life rushed in and left them with nothing but memories of this time.

  She was more awake now, and she rubbed her eyes as a smile began to lift her mouth. She propped herself up on one elbow and blinked a few times.

  Dayne sat up and eased his fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head. He kissed her long and slow, then breathed the question against her lips. “Please . . . walk with me, okay?”

  A soft laugh came from her and she sat up too, squinting toward the patio door. “It’s bright out.”

  “I know.” He slid his feet over the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t sleep, and then I got this idea.”

  “To take a walk?” She grinned at him, flirting with him in a way that said she was willing to find out what he had in mind. She checked the clock. “At 11:17 at night?”

  “Exactly.” He stood and reached for her hand. “It’s the perfect time for a walk.”

  She climbed out of bed, and they slipped into jeans and sweatshirts. They tiptoed downstairs. Once they were outside, Dayne slid his fingers between hers and led her down the path toward the water. The moon was full and hung over the lake like something from a movie set. Dayne brought a flashlight, but they didn’t need it.

  As they reached the shore, he guided her toward the canoe tied to the dock. They’d found the old vessel through an advertisement in the local paper their first week back in Bloomington. Since then, they’d been out in it a handful of times, including one afternoon when they tried to miss a large rock and instead both wound up in the water.

  But they’d neve
r taken it out at night.

  Katy hesitated and released Dayne’s hand. “The canoe? Now?” Doubt sounded in every word. “Is it safe?”

  “The lake’s empty.” He took her hand again. “We’ll be fine.”

  In the splash of moonlight, he saw her fears ease. “You’re crazy.”

  “I know.” He led her to the dock and then bent down to untie the heavy rope that held the canoe. As he did, he looked back at her. “But in a few days we won’t be able to be crazy without the whole world knowing.” He gave her a crooked grin. “So why not now?”

  She giggled, and the sound mixed with the wind in the trees. “You have a point.”

  He helped her get seated, and then with a single push, he set the canoe in motion and settled in just behind her. He picked up a paddle and eased it into the glassy dark water. Again they were silent, surrounded by the gentle lapping of the lake water and the distant cries from a pack of coyotes. When they were fifty yards out, Dayne laid the paddle inside the canoe.

  Katy gripped the bench seat and leaned back, her face toward the sky. Stars dotted the dark canopy but only the ones with the strength to stand out against the full moon. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Mmmm. Yes.” Dayne patted the spot beside him. “Come sit by me.”

  Careful not to rock the canoe, Katy shifted herself back so they were side by side on the middle bench.

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Can you feel it? The presence of God out here?”

  She breathed in, slow and steady. “On the set . . . it was like I forgot He was with me, forgot to talk to Him and ask Him for help.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Know what I mean?”

  Dayne nodded. “We can’t let it happen again.”

  “No.”

  He didn’t have to explain himself. They’d talked about their faith and how desperately they’d need to cling to the Lord in the coming weeks if they were to survive the scrutiny that lay ahead. But out here, in the quiet of the lake, the truth of how much they needed God and each other had never been clearer.

  “These past few weeks—” Dayne touched his lips to her cheek—“were like I dreamed it could be. I don’t ever want to leave.”

  “Me neither.”

  They’d made the most of their final days in Bloomington. They took long walks around Lake Monroe, stopping at the same spots where they’d first fallen in love what felt like a lifetime ago. There were trips to the farmers’ market with John and Elaine, and they made it to Cole’s soccer practice a few times. Ashley and Landon were handling the loss of Sarah as well as could be expected. But they still appreciated having family around.

  Dayne gazed into the night sky. Of course, no one wanted to be around family as much as he did. After a lifetime of loneliness, he finally had the kind of family everyone hoped for. If they didn’t have to leave, he and Katy would have been on the sidelines for every soccer game and in the front row for his young nieces’ dance recitals. They would’ve been there for Sunday dinners at the old Baxter house and each picnic at the lake.

  “You’re doing it again.” Katy’s voice was hushed, the barest of whispers.

  “Doing what?”

  “Borrowing trouble from tomorrow.” She made a half turn and searched his eyes. “No one can take this from us. Not if we keep God at the center.”

  Dayne nodded more slowly than before. His lips parted, and he was about to ask her how they were supposed to keep God at the center when they’d be filming movies thousands of miles away from each other. They could keep God in their own individual lives, but at the center? The center of what? They wouldn’t have anything but distance between them.

  But he changed his mind. She couldn’t know the answers any more than he could. Only by living out the next few months could they figure out how to survive. Whatever they did, though, she was right. Their faith would be key.

  Doubts danced around them and mixed with the shadows that fell on the edge of the lake. Before Dayne could voice them, Katy put her arms around his neck and moved her face close to his. “I love you, Dayne. More than I ever thought I could love.” She kissed him, a kiss that left no question about her intentions. “What happened a few months ago will never happen again. We learned our lesson.”

  He smiled at her and ran his thumb across her forehead. Ah, Katy, he thought, it’ll be harder than you think. Again he didn’t voice his concerns because all that mattered was her, the lake surrounding them, and the moonlight on her face.

  He returned her kiss, and after a few minutes he forgot his fears completely. There was only Katy and his pounding heart and the gift of love God had given them. She was right. They’d survived the glare of the media before; they could do it again. Their love was stronger now. And as long as they could make it back to the shore of Lake Monroe, as long as they could remember who they were and Whose they were, they would survive.

  Even if it took everything they had.

  Dayne paddled the canoe back to the beach. When they reached the top of the path and stepped onto their deck, he turned and took Katy into his arms. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” She put her arms around his waist, and together they swayed ever so slightly. The passion from earlier was still in her eyes, still thick in her voice.

  “For trusting me . . . that a canoe ride was the perfect way to spend the night.”

  A wisp of wind washed over her, catching her hair and freezing the moment forever in Dayne’s mind. Katy framed one side of his face with her hand. With her other hand, she touched the place over his heart. “Whenever you’re afraid . . . when you’re somewhere on the beaches of Cabo, Mexico, and I’m on a bus in rainy London, remember this.” She hesitated, her eyes looking to the deepest part of his soul. “Keep it here in your heart. So you won’t forget what’s waiting for us back home.”

  Somehow, still cloaked in the magic of the night, her words were enough to erase all fear, eradicate all doubt. He kissed her once more, and then he did something they’d done daily since they’d been back in Bloomington. He pulled her close, and in a voice clear and quiet, he prayed.

  “God, guide us through the coming months. Help us avoid the headlines and focus only on what is good and right and true, whatever is excellent and honorable. The way Your Word tells us we should think.” He held Katy a little closer. “Don’t let anything separate us, Lord. And as we set out to our different locations, help us find You together, no matter how far apart we are. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  As Dayne finished, he looked at Katy for a long time, at the way the moon reflected off the water and sparkled in her eyes. “You’re beautiful, Katy.”

  A shy grin played on her lips. “And you, Mr. Matthews.”

  Then, without saying another word, he led her back to their room. An hour later, after sharing with each other the love that would have to keep them through the next season, she fell asleep, her head on his shoulder.

  Dayne’s last thought was a simple one. They had much to look forward to once they survived the next couple of months: magical nights like this one and love without the glare of cameras, get-togethers with the Baxter family, and a regular place in church each Sunday. All of it would be waiting for them back home.

  Now it was a matter of counting down the days until then.

  Dayne felt sick to his stomach from the moment the private jet touched down in Los Angeles. It was just before two o’clock, the day after Labor Day, and Dayne had dreaded the coming night for months. This, after all, was the day he and Katy left Bloomington at least until Christmas. If that weren’t enough, it was the day For Real debuted, the show that would take their already public lives and most likely make them a complete and utter spectacle.

  A Town Car met them on the tarmac and whisked them off to their home in Malibu, the one they had kept closed for several months. It would be a busy week, not only because of the reality show and the buzz of attention it was bound to bring, but because this Saturday was the premiere for But Then Again No, the movie he
and Katy had filmed together. The one where the camera crew for the reality show had mercilessly captured every offscreen moment.

  They carried their things into the house with little fanfare. The paparazzi didn’t know they were in LA yet, but they would. The movie premiere would be attended by every photographer in town. Not until they had unpacked and stepped out onto their back deck did Dayne realize how quiet he’d been.

  He moved closer to Katy so their arms were touching. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

  “Borrowing trouble? Acting different?” Her eyes held none of the tension he was already feeling. “Yes, you’re doing it. But I understand.” A relaxed pause filled the space between them as she stared out at the Pacific Ocean. “The storm’s just ahead.”

  Dayne followed her gaze and watched a series of waves break against the Malibu shore. The stretch of sand was dotted by only a handful of tourists and the usual surfers. He looked beyond the waves to the horizon, and something caught him by surprise. “There was a time when I didn’t think I could live without this—the ocean view, the serenity of the beach.” His voice was quiet, and a calm settled over the moment. “No matter what my day was like or how insane the celebrity thing got, the ocean was always the same.” He lifted his chin a little, letting the feel and smell of the salty ocean air surround him. “It still is.”

  “Yes.” Katy breathed in slowly through her nose. “I love it here.” She smiled at him. “Until the cameras start clicking.”

  “It’s amazing, for sure.” He turned his attention toward her. “But the day my contract is fulfilled, I’ll slap a For Sale sign out front and never look back. Malibu Beach can’t compare to Lake Monroe.” He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her near. “This will never be home after the last few months in Bloomington.”