Longing

  Ashley could’ve jumped up and hugged her dad. His words were exactly what Landon needed to hear, and they would only serve to validate Landon’s determination to be joyful in light of his new life and new limitations. Her dad looked across the room at her sister Erin. “Changing lives is the reason Erin and Sam put their family first, and the reason Luke practices law, the reason all four of them believe in adoption. All so that we might make a difference.” He sat back and smiled at Elaine and then the others. “The way Cody made a difference this year.”

  Again the group was quiet, caught up in the gift their dad had just given them, the gift of his powerful affirmation. But the silence didn’t last long. Janessa pointed to the kitchen. “‘Nana pie, Mommy. ‘Nana pie?”

  “Banana pie,” Devin patted her tiny wrist. “It’s called banana pie.”

  The adults gathered everyone back to the table. Erin and Brooke had each brought something to share for dessert. Erin made her mother-in-law’s famous chocolate cake, and Brooke pulled a huge casserole of deep-dish apple pie from a warming bag. “Mom’s favorite.”

  There was a time when a statement like that might’ve caused an awkward silence, a moment when people might look at Elaine and wonder if she was bothered by the reminder of Elizabeth Baxter. But they had moved past that sort of moment years ago. Elaine moved toward the dish with a pie server. “Your mom would slice apples all day, removing every bit of peeling.” She smiled at Brooke. “Perfect choice, sweetheart.”

  By the end of the night, they were caught up on everyone’s lives and happy to have spent this Sunday before Christmas with each other. Each family packed up their presents and empty dishes, and after a long round of hugs and picture taking, the house was finally quiet again. Landon helped Ashley tuck the kids in, and sat with her while she gave Cole a brief backrub during their goodnight prayers. This time — for the first night in a long time — Landon led the prayer. The way he used to.

  “Lord, thank You for this Christmas celebration. The chance to get together with our family and remember once again the love of the Baxters and the way it has changed all of us over the years.” He opened his eyes just long enough to swap a look with Ashley. “Thank You that Christmas has come again, and thank You for being in our midst. We know that the greatest gifts of all are those that cannot be wrapped, cannot be placed under the tree. And so we thank You for life and second chances and healing.” He paused, his tone rich with emotions that knew no end. “Thank You for love. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  When he opened his eyes he told each of the kids that he loved them, and Ashley did the same. As they left the boys’ room, Devin said one last thing.

  “I love you too, Mommy and Daddy. I mean it for real.”

  Landon smiled at Ashley as he looked back at their youngest son once more. “Thank you, buddy. I love you for real too.”

  They put Janessa into bed in her room down the hall and walked back to the family room a few minutes later. Ashley held tight to Landon’s arm, pressing in against him as they headed for their room. For a long moment she wished she could go back in time and thank Job — a man she hadn’t thought much about before today. For the truth was, Job’s faithfulness in the face of utter devastation had given them all hope this special Christmas season. And that hope had given them love.

  As real as it had ever been.

  Eleven

  HIS WORK ON THE SET OF THE NEW MOVIE WAS BETTER THAN anything Brandon had ever done. He could feel the difference with every scene, every take. As if God had allowed him to raise his game despite the fact that his image remained squeaky clean. If his management team thought he needed the bad-boy reputation to be taken seriously, then God would help him prove otherwise.

  The days blended one into the other, and the nights were a string of beautiful moments with Bailey until finally it was Christmas Eve. Neither he nor Bailey could get away to celebrate. Bailey had a show every night including Christmas, and his shooting schedule allowed only Christmas Day off. Since they couldn’t be back in Bloomington with her family, the two of them made plans to spend Christmas dinner with Bob and Betty.

  Brandon wrapped up the last scene of the day, a chase through the streets of the financial district. Police had closed off Wall Street just after three that afternoon so they could film without distraction. By then most of the business people had gone home to celebrate Christmas Eve. Brandon’s workouts with his trainer had been intense, but good for him. He could see the difference in the definition of his arms, and he could sense it in the way he could run faster without getting winded.

  The way he had to run for this scene.

  “Okay, let’s go through it one more time.” The director was a perfectionist, a man who typically got what he was looking for from his actors without having to do a dozen takes. This shot was no exception. They’d run it three times, and already Brandon felt like they’d gotten amazing footage. The director clearly agreed. Through the megaphone he shouted, “I think we have what we need, but I’d like to be sure.”

  Brandon loved this role. A college kid who has the chance to turn his life around by helping the government bring down a terrorist cell in the heart of New York City. He was the last guy they would’ve expected to be spying on them, the last person any terrorist would’ve thought might be relaying information back to authorities. He was too young, too fresh looking. His smile too sincere.

  But that only gave him greater permission to be where he might never otherwise have been. In this scene he had information that needed to get in the hands of the government, but finally one of the terrorists was onto him. It was one of the final scenes of the movie — something they’d shot out of order because this was the best day to close down Wall Street.

  “Places!” The director held up both hands. “Quiet on the set.” He laughed into the speaker. “As quiet as we can get it.”

  The sounds of city traffic never let up, but people found their places and at the director’s cue, Brandon began running. He looked over his shoulder — first one way, then the other, running faster, faster … until suddenly one of the terrorists stepped out right in front of him and grabbed his shoulder. “Not this time.” The man gave Brandon a violent shake. “You know what happens to people who tell on us?”

  Brandon looked like he might give up, but then at the last possible moment he kneed the bad guy in the crotch and sped off even faster than before down a side street. When he was out of sight the director yelled again. “Cut! Best take yet.” He paused. “Okay, everyone. Go celebrate whatever it is you celebrate.”

  A smile flashed across Brandon’s face. The director was a self-proclaimed atheist. But around Brandon he seemed softer toward the idea of God. Especially since it was Christmas.

  He said goodbye to the cast and decided to walk back to his place at the Ritz. The beard he sometimes used as a disguise would work as long as he could slip out the back of the trailer and into another couple trailers before heading toward Central Park. Fans had gathered around the movie location most of the day, but Brandon made his move to the food trailer quickly and hung out there for a while before slipping into the beard and a ratty jacket. He topped off the look with a worn derby hat, something actors from the forties might have worn.

  “That should do the trick.” Dennis Sceptor played the lead FBI official. Dennis had been a much sought-after actor back in the day, and even still he had the ability to draw screams from the crowd in New York City.

  “I hope so.” Brandon grinned at him and tugged on the beard. “As long as no one does this to me.”

  “Here.” Dennis stood and led the way to the door. “Get your things. Leave with me. They’ll figure you’re an assistant producer or a grip. Someone behind the scenes.”

  Brandon loved the idea. He gathered his things and slung his bag across his chest. “Let’s do this.”

  The gruffness of Dennis Sceptor gave way to a lighthearted chuckle. “You make the rest of us feel young again.”

  “Come on,
Dennis. What are you? Like twenty-nine? You’re one of the youngest guys here.”

  “Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too.” He laughed again and with that they walked out of the trailer.

  The key to making this work was Brandon’s ability to carry himself confidently, not like someone slinking off down a side street. He held his head high, the beard tickling his neck. As they came into view, a couple dozen diehard fans let up a murmur, and then in a sort of chain reaction they recognized Dennis and began calling his name. The actor made a big show of stopping to shake Brandon’s hand, pat him on the shoulder and wish him a loud Merry Christmas. “Back at work on the twenty-sixth. You’re the best editor in the business … better get ready for some major editing!” Dennis practically shouted as he took a few steps away from Brandon and toward the crowd.

  Brandon laughed to himself as he waved. “I’m ready!”

  With that he moved easily toward the street and the sidewalk, his pace even and unrushed, head high. For the first ten yards he held his breath, wondering if they would actually buy the act. But with Dennis headed their way and ready to sign autographs, the crowd didn’t look back at the guy they assumed was an editor.

  Brandon would have to thank his friend later.

  For now the ruse allowed him the freedom to walk along the streets of New York City like any other business guy or tourist. Someone walked past without so much as a second glance. Brandon breathed deeply, loving the anonymity. As much as he enjoyed acting, as greatly as God had blessed his time in Hollywood, he hated that he couldn’t go anywhere unrecognized without a huge effort. It was part of his life, but even so he relished moments like this.

  The solitude allowed him to think about the one thing that was never far from his mind: his feelings for Bailey Flanigan. Lately he’d taken to using a phrase when it came to their time each night, the way they kept in touch through the day. They were doing life together.

  The most normal things — having lunch and talking about his contracts, getting together for dinner after her show, or watching a movie. These were the details that made up other people’s relationships. But they hadn’t been possible until now for him and Bailey. All of which led him to think even deeper as he walked toward Central Park this Christmas Eve.

  In a few weeks the movie would wrap and he’d head back to California. And what then? Would Bailey’s time on Broadway continue or would the show run its course and close down? Whatever happened, Brandon knew this much. He wanted to do life with Bailey long after he went back to LA.

  Father, I love her … I want her to be a part of my life forever.

  The prayer lifted from his heart, and Brandon waited. But no answer spoke to him. None except a sudden crazy impulsive idea. It was Christmas Eve, after all. He’d bought Bailey a diamond bracelet—something simple and classy and understated — perfect for her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t buy her another gift, right?

  He picked up his pace and dug his hands deep into the pockets of the raggedy jacket. They were old enough. The love they shared was something they both felt strongly about. So why wait? Why put themselves through years of dating and struggling to find times on the same coast? He could ask her tonight and then sometime next summer they could get married.

  Is there a reason, God … a reason why I shouldn’t ask her to marry me tonight? On Christmas Eve?

  Again he waited, and again there was no response. But as Brandon walked a light snow began to fall. He stopped and looked straight up. The snow had to be a sign. God was blessing his idea, setting the stage for the most amazing night ever. The night he would ask Bailey Flanigan to be his wife.

  It wouldn’t be hard. He could go to Tiffany’s on the way home, look for their most beautiful ring — the only one fitting for a girl like Bailey. He would use his debit card and then if it wasn’t what she wanted, they could come back and pick out what she liked better. He could get a horse-drawn carriage and take her to the Empire State Building again. And this time instead of talking about the view he would wait until they were alone on the top floor and he’d drop to one knee.

  A hundred years would never be long enough with her, so why would he consider leaving New York without asking the question? The one question that had drifted through his mind nearly every time they were together lately. Especially now, after she’d had her big conversation with Cody. If she could do that, and if she could still return to him completely sure of her love, then she had to be ready. She was twenty-two and he was twenty-four. The perfect age to make this decision — perfect for the two of them, anyway.

  His heart pounded to the rhythm of his feet against the wet pavement. The snow wasn’t sticking yet, but it would. The temperature was supposed to drop into the twenties tonight, making the promise of a white Christmas all but guaranteed. He didn’t notice anyone who walked past him, barely noticed the stoplights and street signs. Instead he saw only the colors of Christmas — the displays and brilliantly decorated trees and sparkling garland — as if all of New York City was throwing a Christmas party to celebrate his decision.

  He walked quicker than before. Tiffany & Co. was just a block ahead. The timing was perfect. He would carry the ring with him to her show and afterwards … well, afterwards every moment would be like something from the best love story ever filmed.

  He pressed ahead and then just when the plan seemed beyond destined, he reached the front door of Tiffany’s. It took a minute to understand why the lights were off, why the door was locked.

  “No!” He groaned the word out loud. “Come on!” He knocked on the window. “You can’t be closed. Not tonight …”

  In the movies, of course, Tiffany & Co. would stay open until midnight on Christmas Eve. But here on Fifth Avenue, the staff clearly had real lives. The place must’ve closed at four o’clock, like most boutiques on Fifth Avenue. He slumped against the door and peered through the darkened glass. The place was empty.

  “Really?” He gave the door a final single knock. “It isn’t supposed to work like this.” He stepped back and looked up into the snow, into the darkening sky. “What next, God?”

  He leaned his back against the pale brick that made up the outside of the jewelry store and waited. This time an answer formed deep inside his soul, an answer that seemed to come up time and again in his Bible reading lately.

  Be still, my son … be still and wait on me.

  Brandon felt the disappointment to the depths of his heart. He didn’t want to be still and he certainly didn’t want to wait. As he slipped his hands in his pockets and as he started out, a noise sounded at the door behind him. He turned, and from the dark store came a handsome, elderly man. The scene felt almost surreal, snow falling on the empty New York City Fifth Avenue, the kind-looking man stepping out of what moments ago had seemed like a deserted Tiffany’s.

  “Hello.” The man’s eyes were full of light. He studied Brandon, shielding his face from the falling snow. “Were you the one knocking?”

  “I was.” Brandon hesitated because this was about the time when most people would recognize him and react. Even before now. But the man seemed to see him only as an unfortunate customer. Brandon exhaled. “You must work here?”

  “I do.” He smiled, unhurried. “I’m the assistant manager.” He looked over his shoulder and then back at Brandon. “You were looking for a Christmas gift?”

  Brandon enjoyed this, the chance to be like any other customer. “An engagement ring.”

  “Hmm.” The man’s eyes sparkled. He reached out and shook Brandon’s hand. “I’m Bill Dillman. The guards have gone home. I’ve locked everything and set the alarm. Otherwise I’d let you take a look.”

  “Brandon,” he introduced himself in return, skipping his last name. “And that’s okay.” Brandon leaned his shoulder into the brick wall, and brushed the snow off his arms. “It was sort of an impulsive decision.”

  “Ahh, yes.” Bill nodded, his expression more lit up than before. “Do you love her? The young lady?”
r />   “I do.” Brandon didn’t need to think about his answer.

  “Then God will let you know when the time is right.” The man looked well beyond retirement years. He had a head of white hair and weathered skin, but he was the picture of health. Vibrant and sharp as anyone half his age. “Love is an amazing thing, young man. I’ve been married to my bride Barbara more than sixty years now. We’ve followed God from one season to the next.” He winked at Brandon. “Now that I’m off work, I suppose I can say that.”

  “I’m a Christian also. So’s the girl I love. Her name’s Bailey.”

  “Bailey.” Bill smiled. “Pretty name.”

  “She’s a pretty girl. Inside and out.” Brandon wasn’t in a hurry either. Besides, how often did he have the chance to talk to a man married six decades, a Christian man? “So … what’s your secret? Being happily married so long?”

  The man leaned on the point of his umbrella, using it like a cane. “Keep Christ at the center.” His eyes grew distant, like he was seeing the love of a lifetime play out in his mind. “I’ve always been in sales.” His smile warmed his face again. “Barbara used to say I could sell snow to an Eskimo.”

  Brandon laughed quietly at the picture, appreciating Bill Dillman more with every passing minute.

  “But it was never the sales that made life beautiful. It was serving as a deacon at church and singing in the gospel quartet. Sharing Bible studies with my dear Barbara and standing beside her when …” His smile waned. For a long moment he was quiet and in the fading snowy twilight tears gathered in his eyes. “When I began to lose her.” He found Brandon’s eyes again. “Alzheimer’s struck early, but she’s still my love. As long as God gives us today.”