Reunion

by Karen Kingsbury; Karen Kingsbury

  “Hurry, honey. I can’t wait.”

  “Okay . . . just a minute.” Ashley grinned at herself. Who would’ve ever thought she’d see herself in a dress like this? The back was covered with more appliqué and a row of delicate satin beads that served as buttons from the nape of her neck to her waist. Her mother would have to help her fasten them.

  She shook out the train, opened the closet door, and presented herself to her mother. “Ta-da!”

  Her mom took in the sight, and her lips parted. The color that had been missing from her cheeks returned in a rush, and she made a quiet gasp as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Ashley . . . you are absolutely gorgeous.”

  Ashley felt the glow from the center of her soul. She locked eyes with her mother and breathed in the smell of roses and springtime. As long as she lived she would remember this moment, cherish the fact that her mother had been the first to see her in her wedding dress, that despite her poor decisions and crazy choices, despite the times she’d broken her mother’s heart, this glorious moment was one between just the two of them.

  “You like it?”

  Her mother held out her hand. “You are a vision, my dear. Landon won’t be able to say a word with you looking like that.”

  Ashley gave her mother’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Look at the back.” She turned around and spread out her train. “Isn’t it something?”

  “Yes, dear.” Outside the open window, a flock of birds settled in the old oak tree and began to sing. The sound only added to the magic of the moment. “And that train . . . my goodness, it’s breathtaking.”

  Ashley turned back toward her again. “I’ll need help with the buttons, of course, but not right now. You get the idea.”

  “Come here.” Her mother held out her hand again. “I can handle a few buttons. Let’s see how it fits when they’re all fastened.”

  Despite the color in her mother’s face, Ashley wasn’t sure. She looked too weak to do much of anything. Still, the glow in her eyes told Ashley she wanted to try. “Okay.” Ashley turned the chair sideways and sat down, her back to her mother.

  One at a time she felt the buttons come together, but when Elizabeth was halfway finished, Ashley felt her mother’s hands drop away.

  “Ah, Ash, I hate this.”

  Ashley spun around and saw tears in her mom’s eyes. “It’s okay.” She stood and leaned closer, hugging her mom for a long time. Her tone hid the shock she was feeling. If Elizabeth was worn out after only a few minutes of buttons, then how could she be getting better? The answer shot a dart of fear through the moment.

  “I’m sorry.” Elizabeth wiped at her tears. “I don’t have the strength for anything today. I almost fell asleep in the bathroom after I threw up.”

  The picture made Ashley shudder. She drew back and smiled at her mother. “Don’t worry about the buttons; I told you we don’t need to do them up today. Anyone would get tired with so many of them.”

  The door opened and Cole flew into the room. In his hand was a colored page from the book he’d been working in. He stopped and stared at Ashley. “Mommy!”

  She grinned and did a small spin for him. “You like it?”

  “Is that your wedding dress?” Cole’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

  “Yep.” She fluffed out her train once more. “Whadya think?”

  Cole came closer, circling her first one way then the other. “I think you look like a princess, Mommy. A fairy princess.”

  Elizabeth coughed a few times and then held her hand toward Cole. “What do you have there?”

  “A picture for you, Grandma. So you’ll feel better.” Cole took a few steps toward the bed, but he kept his eyes on Ashley the whole time. He held the colored page out. “Here. You can keep it on the wall by your bed.”

  Ashley watched her mother admire the picture. At almost the same time, she felt Cole’s fingers against her back, and she jumped. “Hey, mister, your hands are cold.”

  “How come it isn’t buttoned, Mommy?”

  “Because . . .” A lump formed in Ashley’s throat. Cole’s interruption had made her forget for a minute how sick her mother was. “Because Grandma was buttoning me up when you came in, but she got tired.”

  Cole’s face lit up. “I’ll finish it. I’m a good buttoner, right?”

  “Yes, you’re a very good buttoner.” Ashley took Cole’s hands in hers and checked them. He’d washed them after lunch, and they were still clean. “Okay, just go real slow, all right?”

  “All right.” He stood behind her and with her mother giving a few tips, he had the hang of it in no time.

  “I can’t reach the high ones.” Cole was on his tiptoes, but she could feel his body wavering as he struggled.

  “Sorry, buddy.” She bent her knees. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect.” He worked a minute more and she felt him back up. “There you go. All buttoned up.”

  “Good work, Cole.” Her mother’s voice sounded happier, less defeated.

  “Yes. This is just how it’ll look for the wedding.” Ashley paraded around the room in a slow procession until she was a few feet from them. “Well?”

  “It looks better now, Mommy. I’m glad we did the buttons.” Cole’s face was serious. “You’d get cold if you left them open for the wedding.”

  Ashley bent and slipped one arm around Cole and the other around her mother. The coloring in her mother’s face was gone again, her complexion gray and lifeless. Hard times lay ahead for all of them; Ashley felt it in her bones. But here, now, with her mother and her son gathered around her, dressed in the gown she would wear when she became Landon’s wife, Ashley wished just one thing:

  That they could keep this moment for a lifetime.

  Because in the months ahead, perfect days like this one might be hard to find.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kari was out shopping for dinner, making sure she had plenty of food for that night. Jim Flanigan, his wife, Jenny, and their children were finally coming over for dinner.

  But instead of concentrating on the menu, Kari couldn’t stop thinking about her mom. It was Friday of Memorial Day weekend, the last week in May. Her mother’s first batch of chemo was finally finished. Dr. Steinman had seen her, but so far they didn’t have the test results back.

  Not that they needed test results to see how she was doing. She was wasting away before their eyes. Her strength—which should’ve come back at least in part by now—was at its lowest point since the surgery. None of it looked good, but no one could seem to give them an answer.

  She was halfway to the market when she made a right turn and headed for her father’s medical office instead. Maybe he’d heard something this morning. It was worth a try; besides, she wanted to talk to her father alone.

  Ten minutes later the receptionist ushered her back to her father’s small office at the end of the hall. The woman had known the Baxters for years, and usually she was bright and cheerful. Not today. Her smile was sad, pained. She barely nodded at Kari and when she left, her voice was heavy. “He’ll be right with you.”

  Kari sat in a hard-backed chair, stiff and straight. She was three months pregnant, starting to feel tight around her waist. Her doctor said the baby looked perfect, very healthy with a strong heartbeat. Kari clutched her purse to her waist and drummed her fingers on the soft leather. She willed him to hurry up, to have some kind of answer so she could stop guessing that her mother was doing badly.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and her father’s muffled voice. He opened the door and stopped when he saw her expression. “Hi, Kari.”

  “Hi.” She stood and hugged him. “I had to go to the store and I thought I’d stop by.”

  He nodded. “Have you been over to the house today?”

  “Not yet. Ashley’s there. I called and she said mom was more tired today than yesterday. Coughing more, too.”

  “Yes.” John led her back to the chair, waited until she was seated, and then took the spot behind
his desk. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Dad . . .” Kari waited until she had her father’s complete attention. “Be straight with me, please. Why isn’t she getting better?”

  Her father gripped the arms of his chair, his eyes narrow, pensive. “We’re still waiting for the results, Kari. We won’t know anything until then.”

  “But you’re a doctor, Dad.” She huffed, the frustration spilling into her tone. “You must have an idea. Isn’t she supposed to be getting better?”

  For a long time John said nothing, just sat there and looked at her. His eyes began to shine and then tear up. He shrugged and gave a shake of his head. “It doesn’t look good. I’m . . . I’m worried about her.”

  For the first time since hearing the news about her mother’s cancer, Kari realized something. This wasn’t merely another bout of cancer, another battle on the timeline of her mother’s life. It was her life. Her very life was at stake, which meant that if something good didn’t come of the tests, if she didn’t start showing signs of improvement, she might die.

  “Dad . . . I’m so afraid.” Kari was too choked up to talk, so her words were a tinny whisper. She stood and moved around the desk. Then, like she’d done since she was a little girl, she sat on her father’s lap and looped her arms around his neck. “We can’t lose her.”

  “I know.” Her father stroked the back of her head, her hair, and rocked her. “We have to keep praying, keep believing.”

  “Believing for what?” She wasn’t being sarcastic, just matter-of-fact. “I keep asking God to heal her, but she’s worse than ever.”

  John closed his eyes and blinked back the wetness. “Pray for a miracle, sweetheart. A miracle bigger than anything God’s given us before.”

  A series of sobs lined up in her throat, but Kari refused them. She couldn’t cry, not now when they still had a chance for good news. She clung to her father a little while longer, and then stood and faced him. “Let me know when you hear something, okay?”

  He rose and hugged her. “I will.”

  “In the meantime I’ll pray for a miracle.”

  * * *

  Dinner was better than Kari had expected.

  After the conversation with her father, she hadn’t felt like entertaining. She wanted to go to her mother, crawl in bed beside her, and wait for the miracle they were praying for. But life had a way of moving on, even when hard times were at hand.

  Ryan found her an hour before the Flanigans arrived. “You don’t have to do this.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. “I know you’re thinking about your mom.”

  Kari nodded. She loved Ryan, loved the way he always knew what she was thinking and just what to say to make her feel better. They’d known each other so long, he’d loved her mother almost as long as she had. She kissed him back and smiled. “It’s okay. I want to meet Jim’s family, and besides . . . having something else to think about will be good for a change.”

  The Flanigans arrived at six o’clock and almost instantly, the atmosphere in the house changed. Kari hadn’t realized how gloomy she’d been over the past few days until the light and love and laughter that made up the Flanigan family spilled through the front door.

  Jessie stood close to her and Ryan, batting her eyelashes, not sure what to make of the commotion.

  Ryan welcomed them. “Hello!”

  “We’re here!” Jim and Jenny were first, Jenny balancing an oversized salad bowl in one hand and a gallon of apple juice in the other. Jim held a grocery bag full of what looked like potato chips. “Hi, everyone!”

  They kept pouring in.

  A striking girl followed Jim and Jenny, and Kari guessed her to be fourteen or so. She smiled sweetly at Kari and Ryan and Jessie. “I’m Bailey.”

  “Hi, Bailey.” Kari patted the girl on the shoulder. “Come on in.”

  Next were a series of boys, each stopping and shaking first Ryan’s hand and then Kari’s. “Hello, ma’am; my name’s Shawn.” A small brown-skinned boy held out his hand and grinned at her. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Next came Connor and BJ and Justin and Ricky.

  Half of them were Haitian, half of them Jim and Jenny’s biological kids. Every single one of them made a proper introduction. Kari hoped there wouldn’t be a test. She would be lucky to remember half their names.

  Dinner was a riot.

  Kari served lasagna while Ryan poured apple juice for the kids and Jim and Jenny set about preparing plates. Two bags of rolls were ripped open, and Jim had them buttered at a speed that Kari was sure set some sort of record.

  “Two rolls or three?” he yelled out.

  The boys lined up as if they were used to getting their food this way. As they filed past Jenny, they took a heaping plate of lasagna and held up two or three fingers for Jim, depending on how many rolls they wanted.

  Kari watched the entire process with her mouth open. She came alongside Jenny and leaned close enough so she could whisper. “You do this every night?”

  Jenny laughed. “Only if we want to eat.” She handed out another plate. “It’s a circus, but we love it.”

  Finally, when even little Jessie was served, they sat at the table. Ryan had added two extra leaves for the occasion, and with the addition of the folding chairs from the basement everyone fit around the table.

  Ryan prayed over the meal. A half dozen quiet conversations began as soon as he was finished.

  “Pass the salt, please, Shawn.”

  “I’m gonna use it first, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Jim took a big bite of lasagna, chewed twice, and swallowed. “We love lasagna in men’s town. Lasagna and beans and spaghetti. Those are the best, right, guys?”

  The five boys giggled.

  Across the table, Kari saw Ryan stifle a chuckle. “Kari doesn’t know about men’s town.”

  “Believe me—” Bailey rolled her eyes and grinned at Kari—“you don’t want to know.”

  “I don’t?” Kari tore a roll into small pieces for Jessie. “Okay, someone give. What’s men’s town all about?”

  Connor was the oldest Flanigan boy. He put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Sometimes when Mom and Bailey are gone shopping or if Mom has a writers meeting and Bailey’s at her friend’s house, we have men’s town.” He giggled and looked at his brothers. “Dad makes frozen lasagna or beans and we . . . well . . .”

  Jenny raised her eyebrows at Connor. “And the dinner table takes on a locker-room atmosphere,” she concluded. “Let’s just say we need a can of air freshener to get back in the house.”

  “I see.” Kari covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She shot Ryan a look. “Glad we don’t have men’s town over here, right?”

  Ryan tried to look serious. “Right, honey. Couple town, that’s us.”

  “That’s okay, Taylor.” The men were sitting next to each other, and Jim elbowed Ryan. “You can join us in men’s town anytime you like. Okay, boys?”

  Cheers went up around the table.

  Bailey gave a slight shake of her head. “Brothers are disgusting.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Ricky was the youngest. He was a towhead with big blue eyes like his mother’s. “Then how come you always wanna give us yucky kisses, huh?”

  “Look out!” Bailey pretended to get up from the table. “I might come over there and give you one right now.”

  Everyone laughed. Jim suggested they play a game. “Any suggestions?” He looked from Kari to Ryan.

  Jessie took a drink from her sippy cup. It was the quietest Kari had ever seen her.

  “Games?” Ryan’s face was blank. “A dinner game?”

  “Sure.” Jim looked at his kids. “Pick one guys; we’ll teach the Taylors how to play.”

  “The alphabet game,” someone shouted out.

  “No, the what-am-I? game.”

  A round of agreements followed and Jim waved at them. They were quiet instantly. “Okay, the wha
t-am-I? game it is.” He looked around the table. “You all know the rules. You give us a bunch of clues and we have to guess what or who you are. Whoever guesses gets to go next.”

  BJ went first. “I’m thinking of something brown and flat and roughish.”

  Hands shot up around the table, with some of the kids so anxious to be picked, they bounced up and down in their seats.

  BJ picked Justin, who proudly exclaimed, “You’re a tree.”

  “Nope.” BJ pointed at Bailey. “You pick.”

  “A picnic table?”

  The boys giggled, as if only a girl might give such a lame answer. “Definitely not.” BJ looked at Connor. “You.”

  “Brown and flat and roughish . . .” Connor scratched his forehead. “The roof of a house?”

  “No, not a roof.”

  “Come on, BJ, give us more clues.” Bailey took another bite of her lasagna. “You can’t expect us to get it on that.”

  BJ grinned at the others. “Give up?”

  A general consensus passed around the table that they had, indeed, given up. “The answer is me!” BJ pointed proudly at himself.

  “That’s my brother over there.” Bailey pointed her thumb at BJ. “Captain Obvious. Brown? Flat? Roughish? Of course it’s himself. How could we have missed it?”

  Wild laughter and loud moans went up around the room, and Jim rubbed his knuckles on BJ’s head. “Brown and flat and roughish? Come on, BJ, you forgot to mention the stinky-socks part.”

  “Dad . . .” BJ was still laughing. “I’m brown and flat.” He patted the top of his head. “And when I forget lotion, my elbows and knees are roughish.”

  “Of course.” Jim smacked himself on the forehead. He looked at Ryan and shrugged. “Now you know how to play the what-am-I? game.”

  The joy and laughter continued until the meal was over and Jim excused the kids. Each of them cleared his or her own plate and thanked Kari for the dinner. Bailey held out her hands to Jessie, who grinned and went along without a complaint.