“We have received confirmation that earlier today actor Dayne Matthews was in a serious car accident. Though details are sketchy, reports are that Matthews is in critical condition and might not survive the night.”
Luke kept his eyes on the floor of the subway. His first reaction should’ve been shock and grief. He should’ve jumped up and called his dad or Ashley or one of his other sisters. Instead, for the ugliest minute, he’d felt something closer to relief. If Dayne was out of the picture, so be it. The Baxter family could carry on, same as always. No threat of national attention, no figuring out his place in the family now that he wasn’t the only Baxter son, none of the awkwardness that was bound to come from having a movie star at their Thanksgiving celebration or Christmas dinner.
It had taken a few minutes for Luke to catch himself, for him to realize that his attitude was not only ugly but selfish and petty and downright sinful. He’d called Reagan into the room and told her the news.
She reacted the way he should’ve. She gasped and sat down slowly on the sofa. “That’s terrible!”
“I know,” he finally said. Only then did he reach for the phone and leave messages for his father and Ashley. As it turned out, neither of them checked their messages and Randi Wells got word to them first. In the meantime, he’d talked to Brooke, Erin, and Kari. They were appropriately concerned, praying for their older brother constantly.
So what was wrong with Luke?
The subway rumbled through Lower Manhattan, up along Broadway toward Midtown. He and Reagan weren’t getting along, and Hannah from work had stopped smiling at him. One time since seeing her in Central Park he had approached her and asked if she wanted anything from Starbucks. She declined and said, “Luke . . . I’m not interested. I have to be clear on that.”
Which only made him feel like more of a loser. Because if his subconscious interest in the receptionist was that obvious, then he was betraying Reagan. Even if only in his thoughts.
He pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth. He and Reagan were still barely holding more than functional conversations—whatever it took to feed and dress and bathe the kids and the usual formalities that were expected of each other.
Reagan blamed the change on the bar exam, the stress of preparing for it, taking it, and now waiting for the results. But if he was honest with himself, there seemed to be a deeper connection with the situation regarding Dayne. The feeling overtaking him from the inside out was one of emptiness, uncertainty. As if he no longer felt comfortable in his own skin. The confident Luke Baxter he’d always been was now just another guy trying to figure out his life.
In some ways he felt the way he had after 9/11. He’d turned his back on God and his family and moved in with a coed who laughed at the idea of Christianity. But after Ashley helped him find his way back to Reagan and Tommy and even their parents, everything seemed right again. He had been there—the rock for his sisters—when their mother died, and often he and Reagan talked about moving back to Indiana.
The subway stopped. A swarm of people rushed to the exit while others, jostling briefcases and backpacks, found their way onto the car and took seats. It was crowded today, stuffy and stale smelling. A dozen people stood, holding on to the ceiling straps, their eyes tired and vacant.
Was that what Luke had become? Another New York commuter trying to get through another day? Where were the thrill and excitement that had marked his existence a few months ago? And where was the passion he had shared with Reagan? Were the kids wearing them out, leaving both of them with nothing left for each other? He worked his gum, but already the mint flavor was wearing off.
The answers had to be somewhere. Luke leaned back against the window and stared at the ceiling. God . . . I’ve never felt like this, so out of sorts. Even after 9/11, I had a purpose and a passion. The wrong one, yes. But I didn’t feel so lost. The vibrating window hurt his head, so he leaned forward and planted his elbows on his thighs. He covered his face with his hands. I feel disconnected. Help me find my way back, Father. He opened his eyes and studied his shoes. Life means nothing without family, and everywhere I look my connection with family is falling apart. I don’t know. Just help me. I can’t figure it out alone.
He would’ve liked an answer, a response echoing somewhere in the distant recesses of his soul or a kind word from a stranger. Something to make him know God was listening. But there was nothing.
Luke sat up straight, and five minutes later the subway rattled to a stop at his station. He gathered his attaché case and checked that his cell phone was in his pocket. But as he walked up the stairs, he moved slower than usual. The hardest part of the day was just ahead.
The part where he had to face Reagan and the kids.
Reagan and her mother had been talking about Luke’s attitude for several weeks. Her mother’s opinion was clear. Luke’s conflict was with himself. Now they sat at the dining room table waiting for Luke to return from the office. Reagan had Malin in the high chair beside her and Tommy in a booster seat on the other side.
Her mother sat across from them, her expression sympathetic. “He’ll come around, honey. Luke’s from a good family. Guys like him always figure it out eventually.”
“But he’s taking it out on us.” Reagan was losing her patience with the situation. For the past few days she’d allowed herself to think the unimaginable. If Luke wanted out, fine. He could get his own apartment or go back to Bloomington. She and the kids didn’t need to be around someone so defeated all the time.
Her mother’s tone was gentle. “Men have a lot to figure out. He’s young, and after taking the bar his career is kind of on hold.” She paused. “Your father went through something like this.”
Reagan put a spoonful of green peas on Malin’s high-chair tray. “How’d you survive?”
“By loving him.” She smiled, and her eyes held the distant sadness they would always hold when she thought about her lost love. “By praising him, finding ways to build him up.” She refocused on Reagan. “Men need that. Even when you don’t feel like doing it.”
“But you’ve been down on Luke too. You thought he’d find us a place to live by now.” She turned to Tommy and tore his slice of bread in half. “Take small bites, okay?”
“’Kay, Mommy.”
Tommy’s toothy grin melted her heart. Her little boy looked so much like Luke; the resemblance was always striking. It made her smile even now when she was so angry with her husband.
“I thought you’d have your own place, yes. But I didn’t think he’d put so many hours into getting his law degree.” Her tone was measured. “Actually, after you had Tommy, I sort of pictured Luke going into sales. I thought he’d give up on the dream of law school.”
Malin pounded on her tray. “Mama . . . Mamamama.”
Reagan handed her a sippy cup of milk. Her daughter took it with both hands and tipped it bottom side up.
“She’s a good eater,” Reagan’s mother said. “Not like you. I had to work to get anything down you.”
“She’s a blessing, for sure.” The adoption had gone through more quickly than they’d expected, and Malin’s transition from China into their home had been going well for the most part. But something her mother had said surprised Reagan. “So you’re saying you’re proud of Luke?” She felt the puzzled look on her face. “I thought you were frustrated with him.”
“How could I be? Everything he’s worked for is to give you and the kids a good home.” She sighed. “The early years of marriage are often hard. The key is to learn how to love. And for a woman, that means making her husband feel special, important.”
Reagan was about to ask how she could do that if Luke wasn’t even willing to be responsive when they spoke, but at that moment he walked through the door.
When he saw her and her mother at the table with the kids, a defeated look flashed on his face. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No.” Reagan stood and walked halfway across the room
. “I thought I’d have the kids fed before you got home. That way I could get them down earlier. So we could talk.”
“Oh.” He gave a weary nod and waved at Reagan’s mother as he headed for their bedroom. “I’ll change clothes and be back out in a few minutes.”
Reagan’s mother’s advice stayed with her. Maybe she was right. Luke might be feeling unneeded, useless. He wasn’t making much of a living yet, and nothing would change until he passed the bar.
But Reagan had another suspicion. Maybe the trouble with Luke stemmed from the fact that Dayne Matthews had appeared in their lives. It was one thing when the guy was a client at the law firm, someone Luke could help out during a big, splashy Los Angeles criminal trial, the way he had last spring. But now that Dayne was his brother, the oldest Baxter sibling, Luke seemed almost jealous of him. Which was ridiculous, because no one could ever take Luke’s place in the Baxter family. The group was way too close for that. Still, Reagan figured Dayne’s role in the family might have something to do with the changes in her husband.
Reagan and Luke finally settled down on the sofa near the front window, the one overlooking the boulevard. The kids were in bed, and Reagan’s mother was watching a movie in her bedroom. They were as alone as they’d ever be.
At first neither of them said anything. Reagan looked out at the rooftops of the buildings across the street. New York City had been hot and humid today, and the break in the weather that came in the fall still felt a long way off.
“So . . .” Luke folded his hands and leaned over his knees. “You wanted to talk?”
“Yes.” Reagan pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. “I need to know what’s wrong with us.”
Luke sighed, and it sounded as if it came from deep within him, from a place he no longer allowed her access to. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
For a moment Reagan waited. What had her mother said? Compliment him, build him up. Fine, she would do that, but not until he told her what was wrong. “You go first.”
“I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Nothing feels like it used to. Nothing feels right.”
Anger breathed its hot breath on her, and she clenched her teeth. If she was going to get to the bottom of the situation, she needed to speak her mind. “You know when all this nonsense started?” She kept her voice low, but her tone was uncharacteristically sharp. “When you found out that Dayne Matthews was your brother.”
“He’s not my brother.”
“He is your brother.” Reagan was on her feet. She glared at her husband and exhaled hard. “See, I’m right! That’s what this is all about. You’re jealous because Dayne’s part of the family now.”
“Listen—” Luke’s voice was louder than before—“just because my dad and Ashley are in contact with the guy doesn’t mean he’s part of the family. He’s a Hollywood star, for heaven’s sake.” He jabbed his finger in the air. “He doesn’t know the first thing about being a Baxter.”
“Well, you know something, Luke?” Reagan felt herself losing control. “Lately neither do you.” She spun around and stormed a few steps in the opposite direction. Then she whirled and pointed at him. “When I first met you, that’s when you were a Baxter. You were devoted to God and kind to your family, and you treated me like a queen. That’s the Luke I fell in love with.”
He stood. “And you’re saying I’m not that same guy anymore?”
“You were when we first got married. But not lately.” She waved her hand. “One-word answers, stalled conversations, hardly any time with the kids.” There was a cry in her voice. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
“So what are you saying?”
Everything her mother told her fell by the wayside. The way Luke was acting wasn’t fair. “I’m saying grow up.” She spat the words at him. “I’m the one who gave up my college dreams, and I’m the one working part-time and still taking care of the kids.”
Reagan moved a step closer. The intensity in her voice ran through her veins. “Maybe we can stop sitting around trying to understand why poor Luke isn’t feeling right, why nothing feels the same.” She gestured toward the door. “You’re the one out there working for your dream and coming home and treating me like a stranger.” She felt like breaking down, but the anger inside her wouldn’t let the tears come. Not yet.
For a few seconds it looked as if that last line might break Luke. Rather than the walls that had dulled his eyes recently, his look was transparent, full of pain. But instead of apologizing, he only returned to the sofa, sat down, and let his shoulders sink. “I’ll move out if you want me to. Until we can figure something out.”
“What?” she shouted. Just as quickly she lowered her voice. “Is that all I mean to you? Just some problem to figure out? Even if it means walking away?”
“I’m just saying maybe we need a break.”
“No!” She backed up a few steps. “What we need is for you to remember who you are, Luke Baxter, before you come home one day and I’ve changed the locks.”
That last statement brought the walls flying back up again. Luke looked at her, disgust written in the lines on his forehead. Then he stood and stalked out of the room.
At the same time, the phone rang. Reagan could feel tears building, but she refused them. She went to the phone and saw the name John Baxter in the caller ID window. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but she also didn’t want her mother picking up the phone. If her mom and John talked, her mother might leak the fact that Reagan and Luke weren’t getting along. News like that should come from her or Luke, not her mother.
She didn’t hesitate another moment. She picked up the receiver, hit the Talk button, and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Reagan, dear, how are you?” Luke’s father sounded serious—the way he’d sounded often since Dayne’s car accident.
But the question released every ounce of emotion Reagan had been holding in. A lump formed in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped slowly to the nearest chair.
“Reagan?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to speak. “Yes. I . . . I’m sorry, John.”
“Something’s wrong?” The man’s voice was thick with concern. “Is it one of the kids?”
“No.” She couldn’t do this to him. He’d heard this much, so she needed to explain herself. “It’s Luke and me. We’re . . . we’re not doing very well.”
John let out a breath, but it sounded like a sad groan. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The tears came in torrents, as if all the emotions she’d been feeling for the past month were trying to find release in that single moment. “He hasn’t been himself, and now—” she covered her eyes with her free hand—“he’s talking about a separation.”
“Oh, Reagan.” Luke’s father had never sounded so distraught. “I had no idea.”
“Maybe . . . maybe you could talk to him.”
“I will. Definitely.” His voice changed from shocked to weary. “I was calling to tell him there’s no change with Dayne. He’s still in a very deep coma.”
“Oh.” Reagan pressed her finger to her upper lip. “I’m sorry.” She thought for a few seconds. Should she share how she was feeling? “I think Luke . . . he has a problem with the whole Dayne thing. I’m not sure I understand it.”
John made a frustrated sound. “I think you’re right. Listen, I promise I’ll talk to Luke. In the meantime, I guess I can only ask you to have patience with him.”
“I’m trying.” Another wave of tears strangled her heart. “I’m not sure he wants to work things out.”
“He does.” John’s tone was kind but adamant. “I know my son. He would never leave you or the kids. Whatever’s going on must be eating him alive.”
“Yes.” She wiped at her eyes. “Should I tell him you’re on the line?”
“No. I want to pray about this first. I’ll let the two of you have you
r space tonight, and I’ll talk to him when he gets home from work tomorrow.”
They said good-bye. Reagan laid her head on the table, the receiver still in her hand.
The troubles in their marriage were Luke’s fault, not hers. Her mother meant well, telling her she could improve things by building up her husband and making him feel important. But the fact was, the changes were the result of some difference in Luke—a difference in his attitude and tone of voice and desire to make her feel loved. They hadn’t been intimate in nearly two weeks, which meant what? That he’d lost interest in her? Was she that undesirable?
No, the solution wasn’t up to her. It was up to Luke and God and whatever conversation John might have with his younger son tomorrow night. If that didn’t work, then maybe Luke was right. Maybe the only option facing them next was the one they had never dreamed possible.
A separation.
It was dusk in Bloomington, and John hadn’t been able to shake Reagan’s terrible news. He was taking the walk around his property, the one he and Elizabeth had taken thousands of times before. Only this time—as was often the case lately—Elaine was at his side. He’d already caught her up on the latest news concerning Luke, and he was desperate for her insight.
Elaine glanced at John. “You agree with Reagan?” Their steps were slow, the fading sunset filling the air around them with a sort of quiet comfort. “That all this might be about Dayne?”
“It’s possible. I haven’t had a good conversation with Luke since he found out that Dayne’s his brother.”
They weren’t far from the fishpond. When they reached it, Elaine crossed her arms. “Every time we’re out here I can picture Cole, crouched down looking for frogs and fish.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “The way I picture Cole, anyway. From his photographs.”