Reunion

by Karen Kingsbury; Karen Kingsbury

  When they were gone, Kari stared at Jenny, awed. “That was absolutely amazing.” She looked to Jim and back at his wife. “I’ve seen polite kids and I’ve seen silly kids, but I’ve never seen both. Your kids are wonderful.”

  Ryan leaned back and crossed his arms. A smile had hung on his face for the past ten minutes. “I told you they were great.”

  “How in the world does it work so well?”

  “What? The numbers?” Jenny pushed herself back from the table and crossed her legs. She chuckled and reached across the table for Jim’s hand. “I know it looks crazy, but we have a good time.”

  “The numbers, the manners, the laughter, the adoption . . . all of it. I’ve never seen a family like yours.”

  “The adoption was easy.” Jenny winked at her husband. “Well, not completely easy.”

  “It was three months of adjusting, because the boys spoke Creole. But after that, it was great.” Jim shrugged. “I feel like we’ve always had them.”

  Kari was dying to know more. “What led you to look at Haiti to adopt?”

  “We didn’t start there.” Jenny took a sip of water. “We wanted to adopt domestically, but we had young kids in the house.”

  Jim nodded. “It’s sad, really. So many of the kids you can adopt in the U.S. are physically abused in a number of ways. Our social worker told us it wouldn’t be safe to bring them home until our biological kids were older.”

  “Then someone told us about this orphanage in Haiti. We went online, checked it out, and sent away for the video.”

  Kari slid closer to Ryan and took his hand in hers. Their story was fascinating.

  Jim picked up where Jenny left off. “The video came and we waited until the kids were in bed to watch it. There were all these kids, laughing and singing and hugging each other. It looked like our family.” He flashed a crooked grin. “Well, sort of.”

  “We didn’t say a word through the whole video, and when it was over Jim turns to me and says, ‘Looks like we need a bigger house.’ ”

  “Hmmm.” Ryan leaned closer to Kari. “Amazing. Weren’t you worried about the culture differences? What if they got here and felt too strange to ever adjust?”

  “We could tell from the video that everything would work out.” Jim looped his arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “Besides, whenever we prayed about it we got the same feeling. Those kids would be different, for sure. Different color, different country, different culture. But we would all have the same Christ. In the end that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

  They went on to talk about the adjustment period.

  “The worst day was when I took them in for shots.” Jenny let her head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. “I wasn’t sure any of us would survive.”

  “What happened?” Kari could already feel herself beginning to laugh.

  Jenny looked at her. “I get the bright idea that they should all three get shots at once. Our own youngest, Ricky, isn’t in school yet, so he can come with me. Just to help keep them occupied when it isn’t their turn.”

  Jim chuckled, apparently remembering the recap of the day, and picked up the story. “They get in the car and Ricky starts to get sad. ‘Mommy, are they going to get shots today? Why, Mommy?’ That sort of thing.” He laughed again. “So here’s these three boys who don’t speak a word of English, but they know Ricky’s their brother. They start patting Ricky on the arm and comforting him, because for some reason, Ricky’s not happy like before.”

  “They had no idea what was happening even after we got into the doctor’s office.” Jenny shook her head. “They were so excited, pointing at the artwork on the walls and the floating model airplanes in the doctor’s office.”

  “Right up until the nurse walked in with a tray of needles.”

  “In the blink of an eye it became the craziest scene you could ever imagine. Shawn started screaming in Creole, ‘Y Bondye, Y Bondye?’ which means ‘Why, God, why?’ ”

  The story got funnier the longer it went on. By the time the shots were given, all three boys—each between the ages of five and six at the time—were sobbing and holding their arms and straggling in a show of angry defiance. Ricky was crying, too, out of pity for his new brothers.

  “People were staring at me like, ‘Come on, lady, can’t you control your day-care kids?’ ”

  Kari laughed out loud. She could’ve sat there all night listening to stories, but the mood changed when Ryan asked Jim about Cody Coleman, one of the football players on Ryan’s team.

  “Is he living with you?” Kari leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder but directed her question at Jim and Jenny.

  “He never was, really.” Jim’s eyes grew softer, and Kari could see a pain there that defied the silly side of the man she’d seen earlier. “He slept on our couch for a few nights, but then he went back home and we haven’t seen him since.”

  Kari was struck by the sorrow in both Jim’s and Jenny’s eyes. Almost as if they cared as much for Cody as they did for their own kids.

  Jenny caught her attention. “He dropped out of the passing league at school; we think he’s drinking again.”

  “I hate that.” Ryan pursed his lips and gave a hard shake of his head. “The kid’s got so much talent, so much inside him.”

  “He needs the Lord, but I think right now God scares him.” Jim exhaled hard. “As if he knows God’s chasing him, and he’s determined to run until he hits a brick wall.”

  “Exactly.” Ryan leaned back and stretched his legs. “Anything we can do?”

  “Pray for him. Pray he’ll trust us enough to come back and listen.”

  The conversation shifted again, this time to the twenty-seven-year-old woman who had moved into their house a few months back. “Her name’s Katy Hart.” Jenny smiled. “Isn’t that pretty?”

  Kari nodded. “She’s here to start a Christian theater? for kids?”

  “Actually, she’s already got it up and running. Sixty kids auditioned for the first play—Charlie Brown. The show will be sometime in July.”

  “That’s great.” Kari thought about Jessie, how dramatic she already was. “Kids need something like that.”

  “Our kids sure do.” Jim gave his wife an easy smile. “The four youngest boys are sports crazy, but not Connor.”

  “Since he could walk he’s wanted to be on Broadway, singing and dancing and entertaining an audience.” Jenny looked over her shoulder. The kids were watching a movie in the next room, so she continued. “He’s wanted to be part of a theater group forever, but many of the options are downright frightening. The Christian Kids Theater puts on three plays a year, and Connor’s determined to be in every play until he’s too old to try out.”

  “And the fun thing is that Bailey’s interested, too. She sees how much fun Connor’s having, and she’s already decided to try out for the next play.”

  Kari thought about Katy Hart. “How’d she wind up living with you?”

  “For months before she got here, the folks at our church who helped organize the theater group were asking for someone to give her a room. Back then we were too caught up in getting settled. We didn’t even know she was coming out.” Jim paused. “The position doesn’t pay much, if anything, and she didn’t know a soul in Bloomington. We have an apartment over the garage, so as soon as we realized she needed a place, we volunteered.”

  “She’s a delightful young woman, beautiful and great with kids,” Jenny added. “Quirky enough to make the commitment fun for everyone.”

  “No guy in the picture, huh?” Kari always imagined a love story when she heard about someone single doing something crazy like moving to Bloomington to start a children’s theater.

  “No guy.” Jenny gave a few slow nods of her head. “She left something behind in Chicago. I’m sure of that. But so far she hasn’t shared whatever it was.”

  Connor came running into the room, his eyes bright. “Guess what? They have Fiddler on the Roof; isn’t that great?” He lo
oked at Kari. “That’s one of the greatest musicals ever.”

  “See—” Jim motioned to his oldest son and grinned—“I told you.”

  They talked a while longer, but then it was time to go. Jim made the announcement and without a single complaint, the kids slipped their shoes back on and thanked Kari and Ryan for having them over.

  “Let’s do this again,” Jenny said, hugging Kari as she left. “Next time you come to our house.”

  Kari smiled. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see where all these kids sleep.”

  The couples said good-bye to each other. After the Flanigan family was gone, Kari put Jessie to bed and found Ryan in their bedroom. “They were just like you said. What a great family.”

  “They have their struggles. Yesterday the athletic director told Jim he can’t pray with players anymore if he wants to keep coaching at Bloomington High.”

  “You’re kidding?” This was the first Kari had heard of the situation.

  “No, but neither of us is worried. As long as the kids lead the prayers, no athletic director can stop us. Besides . . .” He made a funny face and pointed to the wall where his NFL plaques hung.

  “Yes, you’re right.” Kari laughed. “He could hardly get rid of two former NFL players. The community would have a fit.”

  “Yeah, Jim’s a great guy. I knew you’d love his family.” Ryan came up to her and pulled her into his arms. He searched her eyes and she felt the familiar tickle in her stomach, the feeling he had given her since she was twelve years old and met him at a backyard barbecue.

  She kissed him and drew back, enjoying the closeness. “Now I know what you mean.”

  “About what?”

  “When you picture us down the road, you picture us like them.”

  “Mmm.” His lips found hers. “Exactly.”

  “They’re sort of like we were, us Baxters, growing up.”

  Ryan thought about that. “They are, aren’t they?” He nuzzled his face against hers. “No wonder I like them so much.”

  It wasn’t until an hour later, when they were both falling asleep, that Kari realized just how wonderful the evening had been. Not only because she’d had a chance to meet the Flanigan family, to witness their loving children and hear some of their funny stories, but also because for an entire evening she didn’t have to worry about the one thing that stayed with her night and day.

  Whether or not her mother was getting better.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Erin had found a substitute teacher to take over the rest of the school year for her. Now that she had a baby, a daughter, the last thing she wanted was to place her in day care. Her principal wanted to know whether she’d be back in the fall, and the answer was an easy one.

  “I’ve wanted to be a Mommy ever since I got married,” she told the woman. “Next time you see me looking for work, my hair will be a lovely shade of gray.”

  Being a mother to Heidi Jo was a greater experience than Erin had ever imagined. Heidi was a happy baby with olive skin and eyes that were already turning green. Erin had settled into a wonderful routine, one that included hours of feeding Heidi, changing her, and standing over her crib while she slept. Twice a day she put Heidi in a stroller and walked her through the neighborhood.

  But most of all, Erin loved sitting with Heidi in the old Baxter rocking chair and singing to her. The way her mother had said she used to sing to each of them.

  Often, when Heidi fell asleep, Erin would call her mother and marvel over the amazing feelings her tiny daughter evoked in her. “It’s like this is what I was created to do,” she told her mother this afternoon, the first Monday in June. “Did you ever feel that way?”

  “Always.” Her mother paused. “Every time I brought a baby home from the hospital I felt that this was the reason God had given me life. So I could raise my babies and give my family a life they would always remember, a life that would teach them to do the same thing for the people they loved one day.”

  The answer seemed to sap the energy from her mother, and Erin wondered, as she had often in the past week, how well she was really doing. “Did you get your test results?”

  “No.” Her answer came quickly. “We should hear any day.”

  “But how do you feel, Mom? Isn’t that the real test?”

  The silence at the other end made Erin stop rocking. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like her mother was crying. Not loud sobs, but a soft kind of tired weeping that would’ve been easy to miss over the phone lines.

  “Mom?” Heidi was asleep, so she held the phone between her shoulder and cheekbone, and laid her daughter down in her crib. She waited until she was out of the nursery to ask the next question. “Are you okay?”

  Her mother made a few light sniffs. “I’m okay.” She sighed and it sounded almost like a sob. “I hate feeling tired all the time. I never got my energy back and Dr. Steinman is worried. Everyone’s worried.”

  Erin hated this, being so far away and not having the chance to look at her mother, to see for herself how bad off she was. She’d asked her sisters and always the answer was the same: “Mom’s battling it, Erin. She’s fighting back. She’s praying for a miracle.” But unless Erin could see for herself, she’d never know for sure.

  She stared out the window at the storm clouds gathering in the distance. “Should I come, Mom? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, dear.” The sorrow shifted just a bit, and Elizabeth uttered a sad laugh. “Don’t get on a plane. You’ll be coming in four weeks. Better to wait until that angel of yours is a little older, anyway.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’m fine. It’s probably just my age. Anyone would have a hard time coming back after eight weeks of chemo, but at fifty-four it’s bound to be tougher.”

  “Fifty-four is young, Mom. Especially for you.” Erin hesitated. “Is your hair growing back?”

  “Actually, it is.” Her mother laughed again, and this time her tone sounded lighter. “I look like a porcupine, pokey pieces of dark hair sticking straight out from my bald head.”

  Erin didn’t smile. She couldn’t stand the thought of her mother looking anything but beautiful. “At least it’s growing back.”

  “Yes. Now, dear, go get some rest. You know the adage . . .”

  “ ‘When the baby sleeps, you sleep.’ ” Erin relaxed some.

  “Right. That was especially true for you, Miss Erin. I swear you didn’t sleep more than two hours at a time until you were a year old.”

  “Heidi’s a lot better than that. She gives us six-hour stretches every night, but you’re right. I’ll go lie down for a while; Sam won’t be home for another few hours.”

  “Okay. Call me tomorrow if you get a chance.”

  “Mom . . .”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you.” A sudden rush of emotions made it hard for Erin to speak. “These past few months, before Heidi and especially now, I feel closer to you than ever. I just . . . I want you to know how much these talks mean to me.”

  Her mother didn’t respond, and Erin understood why. Neither of them knew how many of these talks they had left. Finally her mother coughed several times and in a small voice racked with emotion, she said, “Thank you, Erin. I love you too.”

  Erin hung up and drifted down the hallway to their bedroom. Things were so good here at home. Not just with Heidi and the light she’d brought into their lives. But with her and Sam and their faith and everything about their new lives together. Only two black marks smudged the perfect picture, and as Erin lay down she determined to pray about both of them.

  First for her mother, that God would give them the miracle they needed and let the test results be hopeful. And second, as she had every day since the awful call from the social worker, she prayed for Candy and her baby.

  A little girl Erin still thought of as Amy Elizabeth.

  * * *

  The screaming was incessant.

  Ever since she’d brought the kid home, all
she’d done was scream, the same way she was screaming now. Candy went to the cupboard, found a cracked bottle and a nipple that looked clean enough. Then she mixed up four ounces of formula and shoved the bottle in the microwave. Fifteen seconds—that oughta be long enough to heat it up.

  She pulled it out, shook it up, and then noticed something she hadn’t seen before: a perfectly good joint sitting on the edge of the ashtray at the center of the coffee table. How great was this? She hadn’t gotten high in three days, mostly because money was tight. But people must’ve come by last night, because sure enough, someone had left a marijuana cigarette just lying there.

  Candy set the bottle down and looked across the room at the dresser drawer in the corner that was doubling as a crib. “Just a minute, crybaby. I’ll get ya . . . I’ll get ya.”

  She took the roach, lit the end with a lighter sitting nearby, and inhaled until her lungs wouldn’t hold another bit. The longer the hold, the better the high, so Candy held in the smoke until she was about to pass out. Slowly she exhaled, and already she could feel the buzz, feel the way it clouded every bad thing about her life.

  The screaming wasn’t as loud now, but it was still going on.

  Candy looked around the room. Where had she put the bottle? In the refrigerator? She stood and walked around the apartment until her trail led her back to the still-smoking joint. She pinched it between her fingers, held it to her lips, and lit the end again. This time she sucked in even more of the sweet, pungent smoke.

  The feeling was working its way through her body, numbing her, lulling her into a rhythm that would take her away from the rotten apartment and empty refrigerator, to a place where she couldn’t care less if the kid was screaming.

  Candy put the roach down and looked across the room again. The kid. She’d almost forgotten. Her eyes made a lazy circle around the room and there, a few feet from her on the very same coffee table, was the bottle. It was probably cold by now, but so what? At least the kid wouldn’t be hungry.