Reunion

by Karen Kingsbury; Karen Kingsbury

  She dropped down to his level. “Maybe they’re still asleep.”

  “Who’s here?” Cole was whispering now, but his excitement still ran through him.

  “Aunt Erin and Uncle Sam and their girls are in the guest rooms upstairs; Uncle Luke and Aunt Reagan are sleeping with Tommy in my old room. Everyone else is still at their own houses.”

  “Oh.” Cole took a few steps toward the stairs. “Can I go wake up Aunt Erin’s girls? I think they wanna play.”

  Ashley was just about to tell him no, that they’d watch something quiet on TV and head outside to wait for people to wake up, when her father walked into the room. He had obviously showered and shaved, but he looked weary. As if he’d been up all night.

  “Papa!” Cole shouted his name, but then dropped his tone to a loud whisper again when his grandpa smiled and held his finger to his lips. “What’s everyone doing?”

  He hugged Cole to his leg and ran his fingers over his hair. “Hi, Cole. Everyone’s up.” His eyes met Ashley’s. “They’re just trying to keep quiet for Grandma. She didn’t feel good last night.”

  “Oh.” Cole’s expression fell. “Does she have a tummy ache?”

  A sad smile tugged at the corners of her father’s mouth. “Something like that.”

  “Can I watch cartoons?” Cole looped his hands around his grandfather’s forearms.

  “Yes, Cole. That’s a very good idea.” He took Cole’s hand and got him situated in front of the television set.

  Ashley watched her father and son, touched. With Landon marrying her, Cole would have a father now. Something he’d wanted as long as she could remember. But Cole’s time with her father, with his “papa,” would diminish some. The thought was both comforting and sad. Her father had never intended to raise a grandson, but during the early years, until Cole was four, her father had treated Cole like his own.

  The idea that their relationship might change had never hit Ashley before.

  Once Cole was distracted, her father gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. “Some tea?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Ashley leaned against the island countertop and studied her father. Something was wrong, worse even than yesterday. She waited until she had his full attention, until he was leaning against the opposite counter, looking straight at her. “You’re supposed to be at work; what’s going on?”

  The sigh that came from her father rattled every nerve in Ashley’s body. “She’s worse, Ash. She’s in a lot of pain.”

  Ashley clenched her teeth and stared out the kitchen window. “Why all of a sudden? Why would cancer do that?”

  “Because . . . it’s spreading so fast her body can’t handle it.” Her father crossed his arms. “I called Dr. Steinman today and he said . . .” He was choked up, unable to speak.

  She crossed the space and stood beside him, arm to arm. Her heart raced just beneath her T-shirt, and she wasn’t sure whether to cover her ears or ask more questions. “What, Dad?” She laid her head on his shoulder. “What did he say?”

  “I told him her symptoms, about the blood and the cough and the pain.” Her dad looked at the floor. “He said she doesn’t have long.”

  “But we know that already.” Ashley bit her lip and willed him to make eye contact. “Three or four months, right?”

  “No, Ashley.” His arm came around her shoulder, the way he used to hold her when she was a little girl. “It could be much faster. Weeks, maybe.”

  Ashley met his eyes, as shock and panic took turns kicking her in the gut. “Weeks?”

  “She doesn’t have long, Ash.” He drew in a shaky breath. “And since we don’t know, we need to think about the wedding.”

  Ashley couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. She closed her eyes. God . . . what’s happening? Help me, here, please. “Dad . . .” She looked at him again. “You’re that worried? You want me to postpone the wedding?”

  He released his hold on her and took her hands in his. “Yes, I’m that worried.” He looked straight into her heart, more serious than he’d ever looked. “But I don’t want you to postpone it. I want you to consider moving it up. Getting married this weekend instead of next.”

  Ashley’s head began to spin. Her mother was so sick she might not survive another ten days? Was that what her father was telling her? And how could they move the wedding up a week? “From the nineteenth, to the twelfth? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes.” John dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment. When he looked up, it was clear he was trying not to cry. “Your mother has spent years wanting to see you and Landon get married. I couldn’t—” he struggled with his composure—“I couldn’t stand the thought of her dying before your big day, Ashley. She has to be there.”

  Ashley was too shocked for tears. The idea of shifting the wedding was overwhelming, but nothing to the awful realization that her mother had such little time left. She wanted to run from the kitchen, down the hall, and into her mother’s room. Wanted to crawl into bed with her and hold on to her so she couldn’t ever leave them.

  But the matter at hand was too pressing to do anything but face it. “How, Dad? We’ve spent all this time getting ready. How would we change it now?”

  “I called in to my office and told them I wasn’t coming in for a month or so. Your mother needs me, so I’m staying home. I can help.” He took a slow breath. He’d been thinking about the idea of changing the wedding date for some time; that much was obvious. “I figure everyone will be here today; most of us have cell phones. We can call Pastor Mark at church and then the banquet coordinator at the lake club. I’ve been praying about this all night, Ash. I have a feeling God will open the doors and let us do this. Even at the last minute.”

  Ashley nodded, dazed. She felt like she was dreaming, going through the motions, that her heart and soul and mind were really only on autopilot. “So we start there, and then call the florist and the bakery and the tuxedo places? the alterations woman and the band we hired? the photographer and video guy? All of them?”

  “All of them.” Her father sounded more determined the longer he talked. “You and I can make a list and split it up when everyone’s here.”

  Even though it felt overwhelming, the idea was starting to make sense. “What about the guests, Dad? We have more than two hundred and fifty people coming. People can’t switch their plans this late, can they?”

  “If you explain the situation, you’d be surprised.” Regret and sorrow mixed in his voice. “For something like this most people will go to amazing lengths to do their part to help.”

  “So we break up the list of guests and call each one?”

  “Right.” He reached across the counter, took the kitchen phone from its base, and handed it to her. “The first call is to Landon. He needs to know what’s happening.”

  It wasn’t until Ashley heard Landon’s voice that she broke. Emotion welled up in her heart and throat, and all she could say was his name.

  “Ashley . . . what is it?” His concern was immediate. “Honey, is it your Mom? Tell me.”

  “Yes.” She allowed two sobs, and then she took control again. The tears could come later; there was too much work to do to break down now. “Mom’s sicker than we thought, Landon. Dad wants us to change the wedding date.”

  She explained the situation, how they would divide the phone calls and pray for a miracle—that somehow everyone involved could change their plans so the wedding would take place in five days. Landon was completely agreeable, of course, and worried enough that he wanted to come over.

  “No, Landon. Stay there at work; we’ll make the calls.” She hesitated. “Could you make one call, though?”

  “Anything, Ash.” His tone was filled with sadness, and she wanted to hold him more than she wanted her next breath.

  “You made the honeymoon plans, so could you call the travel agent?” It was a part of the arrangements that would be most difficult to change. The pa
rt that would make the nightmare more real than any other. She still had no idea where Landon was taking her, but now maybe it would be better to cancel the trip.

  “When—” Landon paused, his tone heavy—“when should I reschedule it?”

  Ashley couldn’t think of an answer. Giving him a date meant guessing when her mother would be dead and gone. Finally she found her words. “Let’s cancel it, Landon. We’ll take a honeymoon later, okay?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. We can’t pick a date.”

  Her father had cancelled the trip to Sanibel Island and gotten a full refund. Hopefully Landon would be able to do the same thing. She walked to the family room with the phone, where Cole was still watching TV. “Maybe we could take a trip on our one-year anniversary.”

  “I like that.” Landon’s voice was tender. “I’ll get off work as soon as I can and meet you there, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be praying, Ash.”

  “Thanks. Me, too.”

  But as she hung up she realized something. In the past twenty-four hours her prayers had changed from asking God for a miracle healing to asking him for a different kind of miracle for her mother. A miracle wedding. Because at this point, all they could ask the Lord was that the wedding and its many details be changed to the twelfth, and that her mother be well enough to attend.

  That, then, would be miracle enough.

  * * *

  Elizabeth still wasn’t afraid.

  As sick as she was, as awful as she felt, fear was not one of the emotions running through her heart and mind. Instead the feelings inside her were familiar ones. Like those she’d felt when she and Kari took a trip to New York City the summer before Kari’s senior year of high school.

  In the weeks before the trip, Elizabeth had felt a slow buildup of nervousness and concern, a sense of wanting to be ready and at the same time a commitment, a knowing that once they stepped foot on the plane there would be no turning back. At the gate the feelings had been more intense than ever, and when John had taken them to the airport she felt a sorrow and longing and yes, excitement, mixed with the other feelings. Not because she was afraid; she was never afraid to fly.

  But because the journey would separate John and her for a season.

  Somehow dying was like that. A sense of nervousness and finality and sorrow because for a season, they wouldn’t be together.

  It was just before noon and John was helping her get dressed. She didn’t care about the pain or the coughing or any of it, as long as she spent the days with her family. She sat forward as John lifted her hand, placing it through the arm of her sweater. It was supposed to be eighty-five degrees this afternoon with almost as much humidity, but she was freezing cold.

  “Is everyone here for the picnic?” She winced as he helped her slide the sweater over her frame. Bruises had started appearing all over her torso, another sign of the progression of the disease.

  “Yes.” John gave her a pained look. “They don’t mind coming in here to visit. Maybe you should rest.”

  Elizabeth wanted to get frustrated, but the action would take too much effort. Instead she kept her tone patient. He meant well; he just didn’t understand her urgency. “No, John. Get my beret, please, and then let’s get out there.”

  He did as she asked, and together they made their way toward the family room. “Are they making the calls?”

  “Yes.” His steps were slow, and she could sense a helplessness in him. John Baxter, strong in every sense of the word, the one whose faith and character had been a rock for this family since its beginning, couldn’t do anything about her cancer. Couldn’t pray it away or will it away or fight it with knowledge and determination.

  She could tell by his tone, his frequent sighs and edgy mannerisms, that the fact was taking its toll on him.

  When they reached the family room, Ashley rushed to her side. “You won’t believe it!” She had a list in her hands. “The church and reception are both moved to this Saturday. The church was open and the banquet coordinator was able to move a few smaller parties to other rooms, so the main dining hall is ours.”

  Elizabeth squeezed John’s hand and smiled at Ashley. “God’s working with us; he knows what we need.”

  The others stopped what they were doing and watched her. The looks of fear and concern in their eyes were almost more than Elizabeth could handle. She let John help her to the overstuffed chair, the one that was most comfortable for her now. Her eyes traveled around the room at her five children and Ryan. “Where are the kids?”

  “Upstairs.” Ashley glanced around the room. “They’re watching a movie, sort of a quiet time. I told them they could run through the hose later. Sam’s trying to get the babies to sleep in the other room.”

  Elizabeth nodded. John took a few steps back, and the silence around her grew more awkward. “Thank you for doing this.” She met the eyes of each of them. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

  “Mom, don’t be sorry.” Erin came to her and took tender hold of her shoulder. “We’re worried about you; that’s all.”

  “Well, don’t worry.” Elizabeth ran her tongue over her lower lip. Her mouth was constantly dry lately. “I’m actually feeling a little better.”

  It was a lie, and she could see by their faces that all of them knew it. But it was enough to let them, one at a time, return to the job of making phone calls. Elizabeth watched them pouring their energy into helping Ashley, and the love she felt in that one room was so strong it was a physical force.

  She hated being the reason they were changing the wedding. Everyone would know, and she would have as much attention at the ceremony as Ashley and Landon, maybe more.

  But inside she was secretly glad they’d made the change, glad she’d at least be able to be there. That evening when they discussed the day over pizza, the reports were all good. The band had another event scheduled, but they recommended a wonderful disc jockey who happened to have a cancellation for Saturday.

  The florist couldn’t switch his date, but he worked out a deal with a competitor who had the day open. Nothing about the floral arrangements would change at all, and neither the original company nor the new one would charge them for the confusion.

  All the guests but four could make the switch or were willing to rearrange their schedules to accommodate the new plan. Along the way, well wishes and promises of prayer were passed on to Elizabeth from everyone. The group was exhausted as they turned in or returned to their separate homes for the night, but it was a good kind of exhaustion.

  The Baxters had done what Baxters do: they’d faced a hard situation and pulled together.

  That night Elizabeth’s pain was worse than ever. Tylenol was the strongest drug she would take, but she ached everywhere her body made contact with the bed. She tried thinking about the wedding and the way her family had worked so well together today, but still she couldn’t fall asleep.

  Finally she had an idea.

  She allowed herself to go back in time to the night at the University of Michigan mixer in 1967, and from that point on, she worked her way through the years, reminding herself of every miracle God had ever granted her. Her plan was to be so comforted by the host of blessings she’d been given that when she reached the current day she’d be able to fall asleep.

  But sleep took her much sooner than that, for one very wonderful reason.

  The list of miracles in the Baxter family history was so long and detailed, one night never would’ve been enough time to recall them all. Very simply, God had always been faithful to them. Even now, in her final days, Elizabeth had just one request, one crazy prayer that she lifted day and night before the Lord.

  That one day her firstborn would know her, or know of her. That he would understand deep in his being how much he was loved, how she had longed for him all of her life—even during the years when she had promised not to talk about him with anyone.

  And somehow, as Elizabeth fell asleep, the pain dimmed f
rom the joy of her memories. She was certain deep in her heart that one day—when God knew the time was right—he would answer her prayer about her oldest son, the one whose name she didn’t even know.

  God had been faithful time and time and time again. That was the type of God the Baxters served. No, they didn’t always get the answers they wanted. But they always got the right answers, even now with her cancer.

  If her firstborn needed to know about the Baxter family, God would direct his steps until that happened. God was always faithful.

  He would be faithful in this, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ashley was not surprised when she looked out the window the morning of her wedding day. The skies across Bloomington were bluer than she’d ever seen them. As if God himself had peeled back the cloud layers so the angels would have a better view of today’s events.

  She lifted the window and breathed in the sweet summer air. Most of the time she did her praying at night or while she painted. But the slow and wondrous realization that today she would marry Landon Blake, that her mother would be at the ceremony, that all of them would be there together, was more than she could hold in her heart.

  There was nothing she could do but drop to her knees, and she did so, staring into the blue and knowing that every moment, every second of that day would be forever etched on her soul.

  God . . . you did it. All those weeks and months when I thought I couldn’t have Landon, when my past hung over us like a dark cloud, and yet here we are. You and me, God.

  Tears filled her eyes, tears of joy and certainty and a glorious feeling she’d never known before. She’d always wondered about heaven, and as she stared into the sky she thought about Irvel. Was she watching even now? Did she have a front-row seat to watch Ashley give her heart to Landon the way she, Irvel, had once given her heart to Hank?

  Ashley hoped so.

  She liked thinking that people in heaven had a window to earth, a way to see what they needed to pray about, but through the tearless veil of heaven’s understanding. If that was the case, then her mother was certainly not going to leave them one of these days. She would watch over them forever. Not in the way of an angel, of course, because people and angels were entirely different. But in a prayerful way that would stand as a reminder to each of the Baxters that their mother could go, but she could never quite leave.