He arrived at the lake before her, parked, and sauntered down the hilly path to their table. It was the spot where the Baxters had their family picnic every August, the place where he and Ashley had stayed late one night talking about her time in Paris, the details she’d never shared with anyone else.
Damp leaves lay across the table’s surface. Landon brushed them off, climbed up, and sat on the tabletop facing the shore, his feet on the bench. The lake was choppy, a cool breeze playing across the top of the water. Rain was forecast for the middle of the week, but the afternoon sky was crystal clear, a brilliant blue that splashed light through the still-bare trees and made the whitecaps on the lake shine like so many diamonds.
Would life always be like this with Ashley? Each doctor’s appointment a stoplight of sorts, flashing red until another test or an experimental drug might give them a green light and allow them to journey on together until the next stop?
Landon stared at the sky and tried to see beyond it. This was what Ashley had tried to protect him from, the uncertainty that came with her diagnosis. He gritted his teeth and dug his elbows into his knees. All the more reason why he’d be strong for her today, whatever the news. So what if their lives were dotted with a dozen doctor’s appointments every year? At least they had today.
Hearing a car in the lot behind him, he turned around. After a minute, Ashley appeared. Dressed in thin cotton sweatpants and a bulky sweater, she spotted him and stopped. Then a smile appeared, first in her eyes and then across her face. “Landon!” She ran lightly down the path until she was standing in front of him, breathless, her eyes dancing.
For the first time since her phone call Landon considered an outlandish idea. What if the news hadn’t been bad or neutral? What if the news had been good? He gave a quiet laugh. “Whatever the doctor said, I didn’t think you’d run down the hill laughing.”
She gripped his shoulders and searched his eyes. “Landon, the test was negative.”
He felt his face go blank. “What test?”
Her smile faded and she took a step closer. “I don’t have HIV. The doctor explained the whole thing to me. They . . .” Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.
Landon’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. What had she just said? She didn’t have HIV? He brushed his fingertips beneath her eyes and pushed her tears up along her cheekbones into her hair. She didn’t have HIV? Did that mean she had full-blown AIDS, or something different? It couldn’t possibly mean she was . . . his thoughts jumbled and he couldn’t make sense of them. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“It’s true, Landon.” She sniffed and made a sound that was mostly laugh. “The other tests—both of them—were false positives. I’m not infected. The doctor explained everything. I guess it happens a lot—false positives.” She eased her hands along his arms. “I’m not sick; I’m not going to get sick.” A sob escaped and she moved closer, hugging him, holding on to him. “I’m free, Landon. We’re both free!”
The truth worked its way through him, and he held her so he would somehow believe he wasn’t dreaming. This was really happening, wasn’t it? Ashley was standing in front of him telling him the entire situation with HIV was behind them, right? He drew back enough to see her eyes, to search them and know for sure she was being straight with him, that there wasn’t some part of the story she was leaving out. “You mean it, Ash? That’s what he told you?”
“Yes.” She pulled away, threw her head back, tossed her arms straight up, and did a victory shout. “Yes . . . yes . . . yes! Thank you, God!” Then she rushed into his arms again.
“You know what this means?”
“Yes.” She did a series of small jumps and clung tight to him again. “Everything’s going to be okay!”
“Not that.” Landon nuzzled his face against hers. “It means we have to set a date.”
“A date! Of course.” Ashley’s voice grew softer, more seductive. “How ’bout tonight?”
“Mmmm.” He kissed her until both of them were breathless. Then he gave her a gentle push. “Okay, come on. I can’t remember my name when you kiss me that way.”
She grinned. “That’s the plan, Sam.”
“Tell me about it.” He chuckled under his breath and felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t wait to marry her, to love her the way he’d longed to love her. A slow breath filled his lungs. His desire would have to wait. “I’m serious, Ash. It takes time to plan a wedding.”
“My mom will help me.” Ashley angled herself sideways and leaned against him, taking in the view of the lake. “She’s great at planning weddings.”
“So what’s the date?”
“How ’bout July?”
Landon had the Saturdays throughout summer memorized. “July 5, 12, 19, or 26?”
Ashley laughed. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”
“Of course.” His tone grew serious and he searched her eyes. “I want it to be everything you ever dreamed of, Ashley.”
She thought for a moment. “Let’s have it July nineteenth; that way it won’t be too close to the Fourth.”
“When should we tell your family?”
“Let’s tell them tomorrow night!” Ashley glowed with the realization. “I forgot until now. Dad called and invited us for dinner. Kari and Brooke and their families will be there. It’ll be perfect.”
“Cole’s going to be so excited.” Landon ran his fingers down the length of her arms, his cheek next to hers as they stared at the shimmering water. “I can’t believe it’s all really going to happen.”
“Me either.”
He savored the feel of her body against him, the way she leaned into him almost as if he alone could keep her safe, shelter her, celebrate with her whatever the future held. A thought occurred to him, something that hadn’t hit him yet. Because of her HIV, they had agreed not to have more children, that Cole would be enough. But now . . . “I wanna have a dozen babies, okay, Ash?”
Her answer took a long time. “Okay.”
She was quiet, and he wondered if maybe she didn’t want children after all. But then he saw her cheeks. She was crying, soft tears that fell despite the partial smile that played on her lips. “We can have children, Landon. Can you believe that? God is so good. . . .”
“Yes. Now if only it were July eighteenth.” He snuggled against her again, the truth about the news finally feeling real. “It’s going to seem like forever.”
“For both of us.”
“And Cole, too.”
Ashley laughed. “He’ll ask us every day, ‘How many months, Mom? How many weeks and days and hours?’ ”
A jet passed overhead, and the honk of Canadian geese sounded in the distance. “I love you, Ashley Baxter.” He turned so he could see her eyes again. “I didn’t need this news to love you. But now . . . now look at what tomorrow holds.”
Ashley looked straight to the deepest part of his soul. “Landon . . . in the painting that is our lives, all we’ve been through together to this point is only the backdrop. Today—” she sucked in a deep breath—“this moment . . . is the first stroke, the beginning of the most beautiful picture. A picture even I can’t imagine.”
She kissed him once more. Landon savored it because this time it wasn’t the kiss of longing and passion but of a love both tested and true. A love that would see them through a lifetime of highs and lows, the way Hank’s love had seen Irvel through, even to her dying day.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth usually took quick showers. Just long enough to shampoo her hair, wash up, and shave her legs. The whole time, her mind would race in a dozen different directions. Whether Cole was coming for the afternoon, how late John had to work, which errands had to be run, and what she’d cook for dinner.
But this was late Sunday afternoon, and dinner was already simmering in a Crock-Pot downstairs. John was in his study, working on patient files, and in two hours her family would arrive. By the end of the evening, they would all
know the truth about her diagnosis: that she would be having a double mastectomy on Monday morning.
The hot water ran down her frame. Elizabeth reached for a fresh washcloth, her favorite one, a thick, soft white cotton cloth she’d bought in New York City last December as part of a set.
She intended to enjoy her last shower before surgery.
The soap was new also. A fragrant lilac bar she’d gotten as a gift for Christmas. Funny how she had let it sit, unopened, beneath her sink all these weeks. Too busy to open it and use it, when the plain green soap did the job just fine.
She rubbed the soap into the washcloth, and the lather filled her senses. She set the bar down and slowly worked the sudsy cloth across her chest.
She brought her right elbow up over her head, and her breast lifted to where it had been before children and time had taken its toll. No, they weren’t much by the world’s standards, but they were hers, a part of her. The part that had so often been the source of passion between her and John, the part that had brought nourishment and comfort to each of her five kids. The part that had filled out a sweater or a dress or a bathing suit.
Even after her first bout with cancer, she had taken her breasts for granted. Every time she looked in the mirror they were there, giving her a feminine shape and softening her thin frame.
She shifted the soapy cloth to her right hand and raised her left elbow over her head. Tomorrow they’d be gone, the part of her that had made her feel like a woman. She studied them, willing it all to be a mistake somehow. They didn’t look diseased, did they?
The surgery would be brutal, barbaric. A surgeon’s scalpel would press to her sides, leaving grotesque scars and mutated shallow valleys where once lay the curves of her chest. Was that all the further they’d come in cancer research? It was the twenty-first century and still the best option for cancer was to cut it out?
Elizabeth ran the cloth over her chest and willed herself not to cry. Of course cancer treatment had progressed. They had new medications now, treatments that ten years ago wouldn’t have been an option. It was those types of treatments, and medications like the one Elizabeth had been taking, that had probably kept the cancer away for so long.
She finished washing the rest of herself. She thought about how strange it would be not to have her breasts, to move about without the gentle weight of her chest as part of her being.
Again she looked at herself and wondered. How would John see her after the surgery? Of course he’d told her a number of times that it wouldn’t matter; after all their years together his love went far deeper than her looks, her figure. But still . . . he’d loved that part of her, hadn’t he? And now, even if she wore prosthetics, he would know they were gone, the same way she would know it.
If only she could stay here in the shower, hot water running over her body, her figure still whole and complete. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the pounding stream. For a long while she let it wash over her face.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe she was crying. Maybe mixed in with the water flowing down around her still-curvy body were more of her tears. They certainly came without warning since the diagnosis.
Time was getting away from her. She shampooed her hair and wondered if she’d have any of it left after the chemotherapy. It was still thick, still dark and shiny the way it had been when she was a teenager. Some gray had worked its way into her temples and near her forehead, but for the most part it was still dark.
Elizabeth thought about God, the Lord and Savior she’d spent a lifetime worshiping. Being a believer meant there’d be times like this; wasn’t that what she’d learned over the years? Times when nothing made sense and all she could do was dig her fingernails into her faith and hold on for dear life.
It was the way she’d felt all those years ago when she and John found themselves in trouble, the way she’d felt when Kari’s husband was killed, and again when Ashley was diagnosed with HIV. It was the way she’d felt when Hayley fell into a backyard pool last summer and came out a changed little girl.
And it was the way she felt now.
God . . . heal me. Let them open me up and find that it’s all a mistake, please, God . . . She hesitated, the whisper of a prayer still on her lips, the stream of water washing the shampoo down her back. If not, God . . . then give me the strength. Please give me the strength.
Ever since the diagnosis, she’d finished her prayers that way. Not only because she needed strength to face the surgery and the cancer and her family tonight as she told them the news. But because every time she prayed, God gave her the same overwhelming sense. A sense that the cancer was worse than any of them realized, that the double mastectomy would only be the beginning.
And that sometime in the not-too-far distance, she would be leaving the people she loved so much.
It was a thought that terrified her beyond words, beyond her ability to take even a single step toward tomorrow. So she prayed for strength now as much as she’d been doing, and she was sure the Lord was listening. Because somehow she was able to turn off the water, step out of the shower, and dry off.
Knowing that every step led her closer to Monday and whatever the future held.
* * *
Kari was practically bursting with the news.
She held Jessie’s hand as the two of them walked toward the football field. Jessie jabbered about the grass and the flowers and the birds overhead. “Mommy, see that birdie?”
“I do. He’s pretty, isn’t he?”
“He’s a robin, Mommy.” Jessie sounded like a cartoon character, her singsong voice small and petite the way everything about her was. “See his red. He’s a robin.”
“You’re right, honey. Very good.”
“Robins come in spring, Mommy. Pretty red robins, right?”
“Yes, honey.”
Kari chuckled to herself and kept them moving. Jessie was still a towhead, but her blonde hair was getting darker all the time. At two years old she looked like a miniature Kari, but she was every bit as intellectual as her father had been.
Kari gazed at the blue sky and wondered again. If Tim could see his daughter, he’d be so proud. But the truth was, his mark on her life was all but gone. She was far more Ryan’s little girl, a child full of life and light and her daddy’s precious faith.
“Daddy!” Jessie pointed at a tall figure on the sidelines of the football field. She pulled her hand from Kari’s and ran toward him, her yellow sneakers lighting up with every step. “Daddy . . . here I am, Daddy!”
Ryan was holding a practice with a few of the quarterbacks. Spring passing leagues would begin in a few weeks, and the guys had asked him to come out and throw a few balls around. It was Sunday afternoon, but Kari didn’t mind. She’d been more tired than usual, and after church she and Jessie had spent the morning cleaning Jessie’s closet, while Ryan headed for the school.
It wasn’t until they’d finished cleaning that Kari had the idea.
She needed supplies at the store, so why not pick up a pregnancy test? Her period had been due a week ago, and her body just didn’t feel right. She and Jessie had done their shopping, and when she got home she took the test to the bathroom and stared at it. The last time she’d taken a pregnancy test, she’d dreaded the results. This time would be different.
She and Ryan had wanted another baby, but month after month her period would come. They’d talk about what they might be doing wrong, how maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe she needed vitamins, or perhaps something was wrong with him, something left over from the football injury years ago.
Whatever it was, their concern was beginning to demand some sort of plan. They had agreed to see a doctor this summer if Kari didn’t get pregnant by then, and they’d even discussed the worst-case scenario. What if Kari couldn’t get pregnant? Since Ryan still had most of his NFL earnings in a savings account, money wasn’t an issue. They would do whatever they could to have a baby. In vitro fertilization, embryo implantation, whatever
techniques were available.
Kari picked up her pace so she could keep up with the fireball who was their little daughter. “Wait for Mommy, honey . . .”
Jessie didn’t turn around. Her ponytail flopped as she ran. “Daddy, here I am!”
This time he heard her. Out of all the noises on the field—a dozen voices, and the sounds of whistles and footballs being thrown and caught—he heard her and turned around. Even from fifty yards away Kari saw his face light up.
He dropped his clipboard and ran to meet her, arms out. “Hey, what’s my Jessie girl doing out here?”
“Pretty robins, Daddy!”
He winked at Kari and caught Jessie as she jumped into his arms. Twice he twirled her around as fast as the wind; then he hugged her close and rubbed his nose against hers. “You and Mommy decided to get out, huh?”
“We’re going swinging.”
“Perfect.” Ryan kissed her on the forehead and set her down. As big as he was—the tall former NFL tight end—Ryan Taylor couldn’t have been more gentle with her or with Jessie.
He took the extra few steps to Kari. “You’re gonna stay for a while?”
“Yes, but—” Kari gave his arm a light tug—“come here for a minute. I have something to tell you.”
A pained look flashed in his eyes. “Honey, I’d love to but—” he looked back at the field—“the guys can only stay another thirty minutes.” His eyes found hers. “Can it wait?”
“Sure.” She smiled, determined to be agreeable.
“Thanks, Kari.” He gave her a quick kiss. “You’re the best.” He gave a light tug on Jessie’s ponytail. “Go play with Mommy now, okay? I’ll be done in a little while and we can all swing together.”
Jessie clapped her hands. “Goody, Daddy. You can swing with me!”
Disappointment ripped at Kari as she and Jessie turned toward the swings, but she refused to let it change her mood. She could wait half an hour, couldn’t she? “Ready to swing, Jessie?”
Reunion Page 6