Someday: 3 (Sunrise) (21 page)

“Reagan thinks Luke’s having an affair.” Ashley sounded heartbroken. “He’s in New York much more often than before, and several times he’s been out to see plays with some woman from the office.” A cry sounded in her voice. “We have to do something, Dad.”

John sat very still, the pain of his sons’ choices sharp within him. Both his sons, struggling in their marriages . . . both dabbling with outside relationships that threatened to destroy the commitments and promises they’d made. Anger toward the enemy of their souls rose up inside him. Dayne and Luke were Baxters, after all. It wasn’t the Baxter way to disregard marriage, to treat so cavalierly the bond between a husband and a wife.

So John would do what he’d done so many times in the past—he would fall to his knees and beg for God’s help, for His Spirit to intervene and His life and light to reign in the situations with both sons. John stood, pushed in his chair, and lowered himself to the carpeted area between his desk and the sofa against the wall. As he hit his knees, he remembered key times when he’d done this before.

A decade ago, when Ashley left for Paris, a rebellious young woman searching for thrills she couldn’t find in Bloomington, and when she came home, pregnant and alone, so ashamed that John and Elizabeth wondered if she’d ever connect with their family again.

He’d fallen to his knees when Kari’s first husband moved out to live with one of his college students and again when a jilted boyfriend of the young woman stalked Kari’s husband and killed him. Kari was weeks away from delivering Jessie, and without seeking God, without prayer for strength, John was certain none of them would’ve survived with their faith intact.

He had prayed this way after the tragedy of September 11 and again when it became clear that Reagan had lost her father in the collapse of the Twin Towers, and he’d prayed when Luke chose to leave home and live with a girl who was opposed to everything that had once mattered to him.

Always John took his pain and fears and brought them to this place, his private office. Here, on his knees, he could feel the Spirit of God beside him, sense His presence and know for certain that his Lord would answer. One way or another, He would answer.

John took a deep breath.
I’m here again, here on my knees, humbled before You. My sons are struggling, Father.
He closed his eyes and pictured the photograph on the cover of the magazine. Dayne could deny what was happening between him and his costar, but the picture told the story. He sighed.
I think Dayne’s in denial, Lord. He’s so far from family, so far from the kind of support that could help him in his faith. Open his eyes and let him see that what he’s doing is wrong and that by denying the truth he’ll only make things worse. And Luke, Lord . . . convict him of his actions and bring him back to a right life. Help him make amends with Reagan. Please, Father, hear my cry today.

He stopped because over the years he’d learned one very important lesson whenever he sought God this passionately, this fervently. He needed to do more than ask; he needed to listen. He hunched over his knees, waiting. Listening.

Then in the stillness of the room, a Scripture came to him, filling his mind with truth and peace. The verse was from Colossians, something John had read a few days ago.
“In him lie hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

My son . . . heed My words. I know all things. . . . I will show you in time
.

A holy presence came over the room and the place where John was kneeling. What did the Scripture mean here, in light of John’s troubled heart for his sons? He let the words run through his mind again and again, and finally a picture began to take shape. Today things with his sons and their wives seemed hopeless, beyond repair. But God alone knew all things. His wisdom and knowledge were indeed very great treasures.

John wasn’t sure what hidden wisdom and knowledge might come from the incident with Dayne and Randi or with Reagan’s suspicions, but suddenly he had no doubt. Some truth was going to come to light, and when it did, healing could begin. That was what God wanted him to understand, and the realization flooded John’s soul with an indescribable joy.

No matter how great his love for his sons, God loved them more. And God knew all things, which meant John could lean on the Lord and know that Dayne and Luke were being shaped and molded by God alone—however terrible things seemed at the moment.

He spent another twenty minutes kneeling on the floor, praying about his daughters and their families, asking God to protect their marriages and to strengthen their faith. As he was nearing the end of his prayer, God granted him another piece of wisdom, making one thing very clear: John needed to send the scrapbooks to his children as soon as he was finished with them so their mother’s message of love, her words on marriage and commitment and family, would reach them as soon as possible.

Before it was too late.

Her mother’s funeral was over, and Randi was trying to find the strength to make her way out of the church. She walked next to her daughters, gripping every other pew as she moved up the aisle toward daylight, toward the rest of her life without either of her parents.

She was home now, in British Columbia, where it didn’t matter that she was a famous American movie star. Two more days and she’d be back on the set, back in the place where she was praised and held up as an icon of fame and celebrity. But here, people were far more taken by her parents and the legacy of faith and community involvement they’d left behind. The packed church this morning was because of her mom’s friendship to others and because of her father’s generosity, his quick smile and helping hand. If someone needed something, they could turn to Louie Geer and know that he would come through.

“Put God and family first, little girl, and all the rest will fall into place,” he used to tell her.

Randi’s youngest daughter tugged on her jacket. “Mommy . . .”

“Yes?”

She tilted her face up, her brow furrowed. “Is Grandma gonna stay in the pretty box?”

Randi took hold of her hand, then turned to the side and reached for her older daughter. She could feel the truth from her childhood rushing into place. She gave her little one a sad smile. “Grandma’s not in the box, baby. She’s in heaven. With Papa.”

When they walked out into the bright midmorning, Randi put her sunglasses on. Across the street from the church was an old park, with a grove of evergreens and a number of stunning aspens. It was the last day of November and the leaves had long since fallen, but that didn’t matter. In a single glance Randi could see the way the park looked in any season. The place called to her, offering the familiarity she was longing for.

“Let’s go to the park.” Randi waited for a clearing in the traffic and then crossed the street.

The girls were quieter than usual, but once they reached the swings, they skipped off together and started playing.

Randi sat on the nearest bench, and a million memories danced to life. Here, after church, was where she’d sit with her daddy when she was too tired to swing, when her sisters, Jamie and Kelly, were busy playing on the slides and Randi simply needed time with her father. Even back then she was a daddy’s girl. That’s why today was so hard. She didn’t have more than a handful of really good memories with her mother, and now she was gone.

Randi leaned back against the park bench. The memory faded, and she stared up through the barren branches to the sky beyond. “How can you and Daddy both be gone?” She’d cried so much already; she wasn’t sure she had more tears left. But now, alone with the past, her eyes filled once more. Her voice was a broken whisper. “How am I supposed to live without you?”

The answer came over her slowly and brought with it a shame Randi had denied ever since leaving home for Hollywood. Her parents had taught her to love God first, no matter what. A mountain of guilt pressed down on her shoulders and made her squirm in discomfort. She had taken none of her parents’ advice, and still they had loved her. Right to the end, in their final conversation, her mother had stressed only one concern. “I don’t know how you really are, sweetheart, but please come back to Jesus.” Her skin was clammy and pale, death only hours away. “I love you, Randi. . . . I don’t want to be without you.”

Now the words washed over and over Randi again.

The possibility that maybe she had misunderstood her mother all these years grabbed hold of her and pressed in against her chest. She tried to fill her lungs, but she couldn’t draw a complete breath. As loving as her father had always been, as much as Randi and her sisters had been his princesses, her mother had loved them too. If Randi didn’t find her way back to the Lord, she would miss out on heaven. That was the message of the Gospels, after all. Randi remembered that much.

A shiver ran over her arms, and her teeth chattered. She was having an affair with a married man. She and Luke Baxter had come together quickly and passionately on the beach that night, as if there were no one else in the world but the two of them. In the five weeks since then, they’d sent each other text messages and shared quiet conversations. When she returned to Los Angeles, they had plans to meet up once a month, if possible.

And Luke was hardly her first detour from the path her parents had lived. She couldn’t count the number of men she’d been with—all of them connected to the entertainment industry one way or another. Some were married; some weren’t. During her own brief marriage, she’d been faithful until she caught wind of her husband’s outside interests. After that, neither of them had been faithful.

A sob caught in Randi’s throat, and she felt consumed with a new and sudden fear. If she died today, the Lord wouldn’t recognize her. He could hardly welcome her into heaven to spend eternity in the place where her parents were.

Randi stared at the bench and ran her hands over the smooth wooden slats. For the first time in a decade, she could see herself for what she was—filthy and wretched and without hope. She was walking down a path of destruction, and if she didn’t let the death of her mother change her, nothing ever would. She gripped the arm of the bench and closed her eyes tight.

I’m sorry, God. I’ve failed You in every possible way. I’m dirty and tired and ready for a change. Right here, Lord. Forgive me and make me clean in Your sight
.

She wasn’t sure whether to expect an answer or not, and there was no audible response. But as she finished praying, she remembered something else her father had told her. “Whenever you’re ready, whenever you let go of yourself and grab hold of God, He’ll welcome you with open arms.”

The mountain lifted, and her next breath filled her lungs with a new peace and assurance. There was no time to waste on making her next move. She had chosen Luke because he looked and acted so much like Dayne. But how wrong she’d been. She couldn’t have Dayne or Luke, and maybe God wanted her to be alone, without a man at all. Maybe the Lord wanted to be the only one in her life for a while. She steeled herself toward the possibility and pulled her cell phone from her purse.

The entire country had seen the photo of her and Luke, and they’d pinned the indiscretion squarely on Dayne’s shoulders. Immediately after the picture ran, Dayne had confronted her about it. “You know that isn’t me!” He seethed with anger and fear she’d never seen in him before. “You can clear this up, Randi.” His eyes had been wildly desperate. “Call the tabloids. Tell them the truth.” He threw his hands in the air. “How can you not care? My marriage is on the line.”

Randi had only mumbled something about how the guy in the picture should’ve been Dayne, and then she’d walked away. In the weeks since then, Dayne had been the consummate actor, professional in all things as they continued shooting the film. The director had never even once asked if things were okay between them, never mentioned the possibility that their chemistry had taken a blow. But it had, of course.

Randi figured Dayne could handle the heat; he was used to it. Luke was a private guy, she told herself. It was more important that his identity be kept a secret when it came to their affair.

The wind rustled through the evergreens in the small park. Luke needed his privacy? Was that the only thing that had motivated her? Randi felt disgusted with herself. She couldn’t lie anymore—not to herself and not to the world. Her real hope had been that the photo might break up Dayne’s marriage, and then . . . finally . . . she would have a chance to win him over, the way she’d always tried to win him over.

Again she felt dirty, but then she remembered her prayer and the certainty of God’s forgiveness. With that in mind, she had no time to waste. She punched in a series of numbers on her cell phone and waited, her breathing quick and shallow with anticipation. This was the first of several calls she needed to make, but this one was the most important.

It was a call she should’ve made five weeks ago.

Katy was tired nearly all the time, and twice she’d talked to Stephen about how she was feeling. She had no symptoms, really. Nothing other than a lack of energy and a struggle with getting out of bed each morning. Her director pegged the problem right away, since what else could be wrong with her?

She was depressed, and if not for the distraction of the movie, she might’ve tumbled into the throes of a depression so great she’d need to check in to a facility. That might come later. For now she had just a few weeks until they wrapped up the movie, a few weeks until she could return to Bloomington.

Katy was in her trailer, searching for the energy to get back out to the set. Their break would be over in five minutes, and there wouldn’t be another chance to rest until lunchtime. They’d been working since six this morning because they needed sunrise shots. Now it was eight o’clock, and Katy would’ve been happy to sleep another ten hours.

She and Dayne talked every few days, but their conversations were always short. Early on, he’d told her that he had a suspicion about who the guy in the photo might actually be.

“Come on, Dayne.” She didn’t raise her voice. It was too late for that. “Who else could it be?”

He told her he’d had an idea, but then that fell through. “So maybe it’s a stuntman or a lighting guy.” His tone pleaded with her. “It wasn’t me; that’s all I know.”

In the weeks since then, the magazines had taken the story and run with it. There were reports of partying on the set, beer flowing freely, and a romance between Dayne and Randi that couldn’t be denied. One week a popular tabloid headline took Dayne’s approach. “Dayne Doesn’t Remember Affair!” it shouted in big, bold letters. Katy had read the article late at night in the privacy of her hotel room.

“So much drinking and partying is happening on the set of Dayne’s current film,” the story started out, “that Dayne doesn’t remember his wild affair with costar Randi Wells!”

Dayne denied that also. He hadn’t drunk anything on the set, and he’d definitely never acted without knowing what he was doing. “We need to talk, Katy. Let me fly there so we can have a day together. Please.”

“No.” Katy didn’t want to talk about the affair here in London. The tabloids would go wild over the idea of a confrontation on the set of Katy’s film. “It can wait. We don’t need to make any decisions yet.”

In that way, she was able to keep him from flying out to see her. They were both busy, both shaken by the events surrounding them. The best choice was to lie low, finish their films, and return to Bloomington. There, on the deck of their lake house, they could talk about what the future held.

And what it didn’t hold.

She heard a group of people walk past her trailer, their conversation loud, their laughter bright and cheerful. Katy moved to the small mirror on the wall near the trailer door. How long had it been since she’d laughed? She thought about what day it was, and she knew the answer.

Stephen had talked to her several times about taking a break, leaving for a few days, and working things out with Dayne.

But she had refused the offer. “What would it help?”

“I don’t know.” Stephen seemed frustrated with the changes in his leading lady. “He’s telling you he didn’t do it. Maybe you should hear him out face-to-face.”

Even Ian Walters encouraged her to go. But she couldn’t leave the set now, not when she was a part of nearly every major scene in the film. Besides, her personal life hadn’t spilled over into the movie more than a couple of times.

Right after she first saw the photo of Dayne and Randi, Katy had struggled with getting back into character.

Stephen had pulled her aside and explained her choices. “Either you take a break and get some help, or you find the strength to make this your best performance yet.”

The story was about a woman battling depression, whose sorrow was so great it nearly sent her over the edge. Stephen had a point. If Katy could transfer what she was feeling about Dayne to the character she was playing, then not only would she give a strong performance, but she could delay dealing with her real life until she and Dayne could be together again.