Someday: 3 (Sunrise) (4 page)

Finally it was just Ashley, Landon, and the boys, standing near Sarah’s casket. Landon had Devin in his arms, and without saying a word, he reached out and touched the edge of the wooden box. “Good-bye, Sarah,” he whispered. Then he carefully took one white rose from the bouquet and brought it close to his face. For a moment he closed his eyes, and pain darkened his expression.

Ashley, too, took a rose and opened her other hand gently against the smooth casket top. “Someday, baby . . . someday we’ll see you again.” Ashley felt the tears on her cheeks, but otherwise her heart was numb. She wanted only to be home with her family, away from this terribly sad place.

Cole had been watching them, making circles in the grass with the toe of his shoe as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say. But now he moved to the headstone adjacent to Sarah’s plot. “This is where Grandma’s buried, right? It says Elizabeth Baxter.”

“Yes, Coley.” Ashley touched his shoulder. “They’ll be together here.”

Cole nodded. He stared at the gravestone for a few seconds, then touched the lettering with his fingers. “Together, like in heaven.”

“That’s right.”

Landon prayed, and the four of them stayed a few minutes longer. After that, they returned to the new truck and drove home.

Ashley didn’t make her way to the nursery until after Landon and the boys were asleep. Earlier, Landon had urged her to take a nap, and she’d managed to get a few hours. But now she couldn’t sleep. How different this night might have been, the hours spent rocking Sarah and laughing about their lack of sleep.

Ashley tiptoed down the hallway past Devin’s room. Before Sarah’s diagnosis, they had tossed around a couple of options for the baby’s room. They could move Devin in with Cole—something both boys were in favor of. But the house was older, the rooms barely big enough for a twin bed and a dresser. Even bunk beds would’ve caused the boys to be crowded in one room.

Instead, they settled on turning Ashley’s art room into a nursery. She usually painted at her dad’s house, and she could move her paintings there. That way each of the kids would have their own space. Before she completed her third month of pregnancy, Ashley had pulled the bassinet from the garage and cleaned it, found the sheets and pastel skirt that her mother had given her when Cole was born. She boxed up her paints and put her easel in the closet and dreamed about whether the room would be blue or pink themed.

But after the news about her baby’s birth defect—even when she told herself month after month that it was a mistake or that God would give her a miracle—Ashley couldn’t bring herself to work on the nursery. As if some small part of her subconscious knew better. There were times when she went by the room and stopped, her eyes locked on the sight of the pretty bedding, her heart hoping beyond hope that her daughter would sleep there. When the truth about Sarah became painfully clear, neither she nor Landon found the strength to take down the bassinet.

The house was quiet. Still weary from the emotional cost of the day, Ashley entered the room and leaned against the inside wall. They’d planned to move the rocking chair from Devin’s room into this one, since he could use the extra space for his toys. But that never happened, and now the room looked sparse and cold and lonely—all except for the bassinet.

Ashley went to it and rested her fingers on the frilly hood. Sorrow welled up inside her, and she slid her fingers down to the soft flannel sheets that covered the thin mattress. The spot where Sarah should’ve been sleeping this very moment.

I hardly knew her, God
. Ashley stared at the empty little bed.
But . . . but I miss her so much. . . .

Ashley closed her eyes, and her daughter’s face came into view—her delicate features, her big blue eyes, her sweet baby lips. How long would it be before the brief image of Sarah, the one-day memory of her, faded into little more than a distant dream? She held her breath, and for a moment she could almost smell her daughter, feel her velvety soft skin.

I trust You, God; I do. But why her? Why Sarah?

The heartache tore at her because there was no way to bridge the distance between her and Sarah, not in this life.

Ashley gripped the side of the bassinet with both hands, and as she did, a voice sounded, clear and calm, like an intercom to every room of her heart.
Be still, My daughter, and know that I am God. . . .

Relief flooded Ashley’s soul, and with it came more tears.
Yes, Father, help me be still. Help me understand. . . .

Again the response was distinct.
My daughter, I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth
.

Ashley let the words wash over her, stirring her thoughts and bringing a dawning of new understanding. She hadn’t really focused on the last part of the verse, just the beginning, because what more did she need at a time like this than to know that she had only to stand, that God would be God, and that she was only responsible to be still?

But now the last part of the verse practically shouted at her with significance. The scene from the hospital room shone brightly in her mind. Her entire family gathered around her hospital bed and the certain feeling that Sarah’s brief life and peaceful death had brought with them a number of changes in the people she loved—miracles that might otherwise not have happened.

In that time and place, the strain between her brother Luke and his wife, Reagan, had seemed gone entirely, the two of them holding tight to each other and their precious Tommy and Malin. The hurt feelings and distance that separated Ashley from her sister Brooke had faded with every photograph Brooke took, every minute of video footage, every teary-eyed look they shared.

And most of all, there was her newly found older brother, Dayne, and his wife, Katy. Never mind what the tabloids and stress of celebrity had done to them in their first months of marriage. While they stood in a room full of family, sharing the precious life of little Sarah, Ashley had no doubt they’d survive. All of them would survive, and they would do so with love and laughter and the faith that every moment of life is precious.

That would be Sarah’s legacy. But now, as the Scripture stayed in Ashley’s mind, she realized it wouldn’t only be Sarah’s legacy; it would be the Lord’s as well. Through the heartbreak of losing Sarah, God wanted all of them to understand something: He would be exalted. As relationships changed for the good around them, their heavenly Father would be exalted. In Dayne and Katy’s case, if they survived the onslaught of media attacks bound to take place in the coming months, God would be exalted the whole world over.

Just like the verse promised.

Chills ran down Ashley’s arms, and some of her sorrow was displaced by overwhelming joy and determination. Joy because of what God had started yesterday in the crowded hospital room. And determination because she suddenly knew how she’d survive the sadness of losing her newborn daughter. In the Lord’s strength, she would play peacemaker to the relationships that seemed most touched by Sarah’s few hours. She would make herself available and reach out as often as she could. She would pray for Luke and Reagan, for Brooke and herself, and for Dayne and Katy, and she would know two things for sure.

God would be exalted. And Sarah’s death would not be in vain.

John woke up early Wednesday morning and rolled over in bed. He stretched his hand across to the empty place where Elizabeth should’ve been. Most days now he could get through the morning and not think about her and how badly he still missed her. But this was different.

Today would’ve been their thirty-ninth wedding anniversary.

Can You let Elizabeth know how much I love her?
He stared out the window. The sky was deep blue, same as it had been all week. When he’d looked ahead to this day, he figured he’d take a trip to the cemetery, because her body was there, and somehow it seemed right that he pay his respects.

John sat up and stretched his back. The problem was, he didn’t think of Elizabeth when he was at the cemetery. He thought of her here in their bed. Or in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea in her hands, a smile shining from her eyes. He thought of her in the rocker, the one next to his recliner in the living room across from the fireplace, with the mantel that held a framed photograph of each of their kids, including Dayne. He saw her across from him at the dining room table—no matter who was sitting in her chair—and he remembered her every time he walked along the path behind their house.

No, he wouldn’t go to the cemetery to mark the day when he and Elizabeth had made the best decision of their lives. He would make the oatmeal she loved with the egg whites and fresh blueberries. Then he’d go out back and take a walk, take in the changes life had brought and the changes still ahead.

Later maybe he’d work on the scrapbooks for their kids. He wanted to hand them out at Christmas because a collection of letters from their mother was the best gift he could possibly give them. Of course, by then he and Elaine . . .

A suffocating sadness came over him, and he drew a slow breath and stood. He couldn’t think about Elaine this morning. They had plans for tomorrow—breakfast out and a trip to the farmers’ market. She had something wrong with her trash compactor, so later in the day he planned to go to her house and try to fix it. She would make her special lasagna, and the hours would be full.

But today belonged to him and Elizabeth. It wasn’t something he and Elaine had talked about, but she knew it was his anniversary. Like last year on this date, she wouldn’t call.

John glanced at the photo of Elizabeth and him on the dresser, but he didn’t linger. Not at the picture and not at the top drawer that held a small velvet box he’d brought home one evening last week. He didn’t want to think about what lay inside the box or what future anniversary days would be like if he carried through with his intentions.

Instead he made his oatmeal, and after he’d done his dishes, he pulled on a Colts cap and went in the backyard. For a few seconds he didn’t move, didn’t do anything but breathe in the sweet smell of morning and countryside and the hint of roses in full bloom from the garden where Elizabeth planted them some twenty years ago.

He started walking and lifted his gaze to the blue beyond the trees that rimmed the back of their property. “I know I shouldn’t ask, God.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and kept on. “But I still don’t understand why. Why do You need her up there with You?” His voice was quiet, barely loud enough for him to hear. “She should be right here beside me.”

And she should have been. They would’ve talked about Katy and Dayne and whether the pressures of the reality show and the movies they were making might be too much. They’d share their concerns about Luke and Reagan and their sorrow for Ashley and Landon. They’d celebrate Kari and Ryan’s growing family and their gratitude about Brooke and Peter’s healed marriage. And they’d pray that Erin and Sam might move closer.

Elaine cared about his kids, but talking about them with her would never be the same because Elaine didn’t share their past. She had grown children of her own, after all. She hadn’t been there to grieve with him when Dayne was given up for adoption, and she wasn’t the one beside him rushing Brooke to the hospital for fifteen stitches the day she fell off her bike when she was in first grade. She hadn’t been there for birthdays or first days of school, for graduations or great vacations, for broken bones or broken hearts.

He took the footpath over the bridge, the one he’d improved a year ago so he and Cole would have a place to study the fish and catch frogs with the old net John kept in the garage. On the other side, he walked a little slower, following the path around a bend and out to the bench, where he and Elizabeth had sat together and talked more times than he could count.

Not only would he have to let go of the memories he and Elizabeth shared and the traditions that marked each holiday and the funny stories handed down over the years. But if he married Elaine, they’d have to find someplace to live. He sucked in a full breath and gripped the edge of the bench. As he did, he studied the back porch and windows of the old place. Elaine wouldn’t want to move into the Baxter house. She couldn’t compete with the memories of Elizabeth, and John wouldn’t want her to try. He wasn’t ready to move into her house either.

A wave of anxiety moved through his veins. He’d thought about selling the house before, and he always dismissed his concerns. But now, with the velvet box upstairs in his top dresser drawer, the time had come to think about the reality. They would have to live somewhere.

God, the whole thing makes me feel old and tired
. He leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. It would be easier to turn Elaine away. Stay here in the Baxter house surrounded by his kids and grandkids and his memories. The memories most of all.
I had everything with Elizabeth, Lord. . . . Where am I supposed to go from here?

John waited, and at first there was no answer, just the sound of a robin moving about in the trees overhead and the rush of water in the nearby stream.

But then, like the softest breath against his skin, John felt a verse come to life in his heart.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

The words felt like water to his soul, and they breathed life into his heart. Matthew 11 was a section of Scripture John had come back to many times in his life. When Elizabeth had cancer the first time and when Luke went through his rebellious season after the tragedy of September 11.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. . . .”

The words expanded and filled his mind. There was always a reason why God placed a certain verse on his heart, and today was no exception. He was tired and weary. The burden of the decision before him was more than he could bear, especially on his anniversary.

He opened his eyes, and the message seemed clearer than the late-summer sky. If the thought of marrying Elaine was too much for him, then this wasn’t the time to make that move. Instead he needed to focus on the Lord, on God’s great and mighty power to lead and guide and grant wisdom wherever it was needed. To think about God’s faithfulness. In doing so, he would be taking on the Lord’s yoke and allowing God to dictate his next step.

For the most wonderful few seconds, John could almost feel Elizabeth sitting beside him. The memory of her was that strong. “Thirty-nine years . . .” He felt the sting of tears, but he blinked them back. A smile started in his heart and ended up tugging at his lips. Because when it came to Elizabeth, he couldn’t do anything but feel the joy of all she’d been to him and the kids.
Thank You for her, God. I’m so grateful.

He stood and gathered the strength he’d need to face the day. As he did, he heard the words once more.
“Come to me, all you who are weary. . . .”
He’d spend the day looking at pictures and calling his kids and reading the Bible, and he’d do it all with Elizabeth’s favorite CD of hymns playing in the background. But before too long, he’d do what he needed to do in order to be fair—both to himself and to Elaine. He’d call her and cancel their plans for tomorrow. Because until the Lord cleared up the questions clouding his heart, he had no right taking things further.

Even with the engagement ring sitting upstairs in the velvet box.

Katy was grateful for the going-away party at the Flanigans’ house because it was a diversion. Rhonda Sanders—her longtime friend and assistant CKT director—was moving to Cleveland to be near Chad Jennings, who had filled in with the production of
Godspell
when Katy stepped down. The two were full of energy, in love, and excited about the future. They were leaving tomorrow, and Rhonda would live with one of the CKT families near the Ohio theater. The couple would work on two productions and then get married sometime next spring.

Katy pulled a package of frozen hamburger patties from the freezer and watched Rhonda and her fiancé, the way her friend’s eyes sparkled when she looked at Chad and the way he hung on everything she said.

A hint of jealousy colored the moment, and Katy looked away. Rhonda and Chad would have everything Katy and Dayne could never have. Anonymity and privacy and a world where the people who watched would cheer them on, believing in them and supporting them.

Dayne stepped out of the pantry with two enormous bags of hamburger buns. “Where does Jenny want them?” He was halfway to Katy when he must’ve seen something different in her expression. He set the buns on the granite countertop and came to her, gently touching her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She found a smile and looped her arm around his waist. “Sorry.” She glanced at Rhonda and Chad again. In the living room someone was playing a song from
Beauty and the Beast
on the piano. By the sound of it, a roomful of kids provided the vocals. She let the noise around her fade. “Just wishing.”

Dayne followed her gaze, and he seemed to understand at almost the same time. “That we could be them . . . ?”

“Not really.” She turned back to Dayne. “For someday.”

A dozen kids ran past, squealing and laughing and chasing a handful of others.

Dayne didn’t seem to notice. He touched Katy’s cheek, and a longing filled his expression. “It’ll come.”

“I know.” Katy nodded, but neither of them seemed very convinced. She set the frozen meat on the counter just as Jenny hurried in from outside.

“The barbecue wouldn’t light. Can you believe it? We must have the world’s biggest grill out there, and with fifty kids waiting for burgers we couldn’t get a flame.” Jenny rushed by Katy and Dayne and washed her hands in the sink. “Jim had to get a match and light it the old-fashioned way.”

Katy rolled up her sleeves and grinned at Dayne. Again she was glad for the chaos of the moment. “Well, if you’ve got a flame, put us to work.”

“Take the tray from the bottom drawer and spread the burgers across it.” Jenny looked slightly frazzled but brimming with joy, the way she always looked at one of her parties. She rattled off directions to Dayne, telling him where the condiments were and how many tomatoes to slice. “Once you’re outside, I’m sure Jim could use your help. He likes a teammate for megameals like this.”

The burgers were perfect that night, and the kids took their full plates and found places at the patio tables. Katy and Dayne sat on the outdoor sofa and watched the scene, how the veteran CKT kids blended with the younger boys and girls.

“Seeing them like this, I can almost picture them the way they are onstage, their costumes and lines. Everything.” Katy set her burger down on her plate and gazed across the pool to the table on the other side where Tim Reed was sitting. He was a freshman in college this year. If the drama program had been able to continue, this would’ve been Tim’s last year. There were other kids too. Bailey and Connor Flanigan, the precious brother and sister who had been family to Katy all the years she lived in their apartment over the garage. The Shaffers and the Picks, the Schneiders and the Larsons.