Landon kept walking.
A hundred scenarios could have played out in that meeting room. He could’ve been under scrutiny for failing to file a report, or he could’ve messed up on protocol at one job or another. They might have wanted his opinion about a certain call or asked questions about the way a rescue had gone down.
They could’ve even hinted at a promotion.
But captain? And a shot at one day becoming chief of the department?
All when hours earlier he’d practically heard God tell him to relax, rejoice, because the Lord’s plans for his life were set for him? It didn’t feel even a little possible that the timing of today’s events was a coincidence. Landon let his eyes fall to his feet, the way he was attacking the path despite his cramped uniform dress shoes.
“Hey, fireman!” The voice belonged to a young woman a ways behind him. “Wait up. . . . I wanna get your autograph. Hey, fireman!”
Landon didn’t look back. Since September 11, firefighters in New York City had maintained a hero status. Usually he did his best to accommodate requests from the public, but not today. He made a right turn and kept walking, his mind focused again on the matter at hand: God’s plans for his life, the way he’d heard God speak to him about plans hours before the meeting with the department brass.
The conclusion was easy.
God wanted him to stay in New York City. Take the promotion to captain, serve to the best of his ability, and work his way to the top of the ladder in a way that would bring the Lord glory. That had to be it, right?
The thought rattled around his heart like a crushed pop can.
If he stayed in New York, he could never have a life with Ashley and Cole. She would never move to Manhattan, not in light of her health. He knew her too well for that. She wouldn’t even work with the Midtown Art Gallery after all. Too stressful, too fast-paced. She needed to concentrate on staying well.
The problem was, all his life he’d known the Bible verse about God’s plans, the fact that the Lord had a road map for his life, good plans, plans to give him hope and a future. But always—from his teenage days—he’d believed those plans would include Ashley Baxter.
Now, though, God had allowed an opportunity to present itself that had nothing to do with Ashley. One that could easily take him headlong into a life where he would have no choice but to find his way without her.
Was that what God wanted? For him to move on and forget the hold she’d always had on his heart?
He thought about his last conversation with her. She’d done everything but tell him not to call again, going on about how he deserved someone better, someone healthy, and insisting that she didn’t want him thinking about her.
A park bench stood a few feet ahead, separated from the path by a thick hedge. Landon slowed his pace, sat down, and laced his fingers behind his head. Ah, Ashley, where are you now? After all we’ve been through, we really haven’t come that far, have we?
He would always care about her, of course. And no matter whom God brought into his life in the years to come, he would never love any woman the same way he’d loved Ashley. Even now he would’ve traded everything about his future with the FDNY for a chance to marry her. But the facts were easy to sort through.
If she were part of God’s plan for his life, something would’ve gone right for the two of them in the past few years. Something. Instead she’d sent him away more times than he could remember, and even though her health problems didn’t worry him, they caused her to refuse everything about him.
Even his ring.
Landon sucked in a slow breath through his nose and stared through the brilliant red and orange leaves to the blue sky beyond. As long as Ashley was pushing him away, he’d been determined to keep trying. But this . . . this offer of advancement and promise of a future in the department, this seemed straight from God’s office desk.
And if God wanted him to let go of Ashley Baxter, what choice did he have?
He realized then that his mind was already made up. He would tell Captain Dillon in the morning. The offer had come for a reason, even if it wasn’t the plan he would’ve chosen for his life. He should be excited, of course. Any of a thousand firefighters given his opportunity would’ve been well into planning a celebration by now.
But for Landon, the celebration could come later.
First he had to grieve the idea that for the first time since he was a fresh-faced high school sophomore, his future plans no longer seemed to include the only girl he’d ever loved. And more than that, they didn’t include her son.
A boy he would carry in his heart until his dying day.
Chapter Nine
Luke was grateful to be in New York City with Reagan and their baby son, but a piece of his soul was back in Bloomington. Back in the hospital room standing guard over his blue-eyed little niece. He’d stayed as long as he could, and by the time he left for Manhattan, Hayley was stable.
Now they knew more, of course. The child who had been the brightest sunbeam in the Baxter family was blind. Blind and brain-damaged.
Luke found relief the same way he had in Bloomington, back when he’d chosen to be distant from his family. He spent hours staring out the window thinking. He wouldn’t start school until January, so the next ten weeks were a gift, really. A chance to bond with Reagan in a controlled setting and help her with little Tommy.
But he still needed his window time.
He was there now, sitting adjacent to a glassy picture window, his legs pulled up on the bench seat beneath the sill. It was his favorite spot in Reagan’s mother’s apartment, and the view was breathtaking. The distant skyline of Lower Manhattan and enough of the park to make Luke want to sit there for hours.
Sometimes when he looked out that window, he imagined the place where the twin towers stood, the place where Reagan’s father had taken the two of them that summer day more than a year earlier. The man would’ve been disappointed about Reagan’s pregnancy, but he would’ve gotten past it. Tom Decker had been a godly man, a forgiving father who would’ve loved the boy named for him.
Luke understood better now about the tragedy of September 11. God had helped him with that a month earlier when he’d finally taken the steps to make things right with his dad. He’d been wrong before, thinking God allowed what happened that day or that he condoned it somehow. The truth was much simpler standing where he was on this side of it. Life was tragic, and God . . . God wasn’t the problem.
He was the answer.
All of that made sense, but there was still something that didn’t: Why was Hayley lying in a hospital bed with a damaged brain? If it was her time to die, fine. God could take her, and yes, they’d miss her like crazy. But at least she’d be free to run and laugh and play in heaven.
Instead, she was trapped in a body that could do none of those things, with a brain that couldn’t function well enough for her to recognize her own mother. At least that was the last update he’d heard.
“God, I’m back again . . . I still don’t understand. . . .”
“Don’t understand what?” Reagan’s voice was feathery soft, whispered against the side of his head in a way that had an instant soothing effect on him.
He leaned backward, nuzzling his face against hers. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“Tommy’s awake.” She moved in front of him and lowered her chin, studying him. Her long blonde hair fell like satin sheets down her shoulders and back. The sparkle in her eyes was one Luke was familiar with. She wanted something, no question about it. “Let’s take him to the park.” She lifted her brow and looked out the window. “Winter will be here soon, but today’s too beautiful to stay inside.”
She was right. Besides, the fresh air would do him good, maybe help clear the cobwebs from his heart. “Okay.” He worked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “C’mere.”
For a long moment, his lips met hers and he felt the familiar desire, the anticipation that in a few short months he could love her c
ompletely, the way he was dying to love her.
“You taste good.” She gave him a slow smile and caught her breath.
“You look good.”
Another smile. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad your mother’s in the next room.” He brought his fingers up to her face and worked them over her cheekbones and into her hairline.
“You know . . .” Reagan let out a quiet giggle. “She’s pretty much always in the next room.”
“Yes.” Luke held his breath for a moment. “And that’s a good thing, believe me.”
Reagan straightened and studied him, her face angled in a way that made her look irresistible. “Can we?”
Luke reached for her again. “Can we what?”
“The park, silly.” She gave his chest a playful push. “Let’s take Tommy, okay?”
A low moan sounded from Luke, and he worked his hands down his thighs to his knees. “Okay.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Switch gears, Baxter . . . switch gears.”
She was still giggling as she left the room.
At least once a week they took Tommy to Central Park.
Luke liked that it gave them time alone, time to talk about the wedding and the crazy twists their lives had taken in recent months. It also allowed them the chance to talk about the counseling. The pastor at Reagan’s church had arranged premarital counseling for them, something Luke hadn’t been sure they needed.
But now, two weeks into it, he was grateful.
He wanted the type of marriage his parents had, one where he and Reagan would become so close it was impossible to see one without seeing the other. A marriage that would survive illness and tragedy, wayward children, and a lifetime of change. In counseling they would talk about expectations for intimacy and philosophies on child rearing, finances and faith and frustrations that were bound to come. Dozens of scenarios that could play out in their lives and how they would handle them together with God.
Always with God.
The cab pulled up at the east side of the park. Luke hopped out and went straight for the trunk. A quick flick of the wrist and he had the stroller out on the sidewalk and locked into the open position. At the same time, Reagan unfastened Tommy’s car seat and eased him from the backseat. They had a routine now, and to people passing by they probably looked like any other young married couple. It was impossible to tell what they’d been through that past year.
Reagan enjoyed the exercise, and Tommy would take his bottle, mesmerized by the changing colors in the trees. Now that Reagan was recovered from having the baby, she’d started jogging again on her mother’s treadmill. A jogging stroller was on her Christmas list.
The mid-October sun was still warm enough that Tommy didn’t need a blanket. He was four months old, and he enjoyed being propped up for his walks.
Reagan bunched up two blankets and eased them behind his back and neck. “There you go, little guy. Enjoy the view.”
Luke watched, taken by her gentle way with their son. “You’re good at this.” He grinned at her as he set the stroller in motion.
She covered one of his hands with her own and returned the smile. “Thanks. You, too.”
He was quiet then, still caught up in the thoughts that had troubled him before she found him at the window.
“You’re distant today.” She kept her eyes straight ahead, their pace slow and easy.
“Hmmm. Yes.”
She waited a few minutes. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not sure, really.”
Another minute. Reagan gazed up at the changing leaves and narrowed her eyes. “Remember what the counselor says?”
“About silence?” He gave her a side-glance and stifled a grin.
“Yes. Troubled silence.” Her eyes shone. “Remember? There are two ways to handle silence from your spouse.” She looked straight ahead again. “Allow it, and hope it doesn’t become a pattern. Or push a little and find a way to talk about it.” She deepened her tone to sound more like their counselor. “ ‘And only by talking will your relationship grow.’ ”
“Okay.” Luke chuckled and slipped his free hand into his jeans pocket. “I’m sorry.”
“So . . .” They walked another ten yards. Her tone wasn’t as easygoing as before. “What is it, Luke? I hate when you get like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . like quiet and distant.” Her smile was gone, but she kept moving, keeping in step with him. “It makes me think you’re mad at me.”
“Mad at . . .” An understanding dawned in his heart. He slowed to a stop and faced her. “You think I’m having doubts about the wedding?”
For the first time that morning, a shadow fell across her face. He looked straight into her soul and saw the fear she kept hidden there. “Sometimes.” She shifted her eyes to the path beneath their feet. “I’m sorry.” Reagan angled her face so she could see him again. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know. It all happened so quick, and . . .”
“Reagan.” He placed his hands alongside her cheeks and searched her eyes. “I’m more sure about marrying you than I’ve been about anything in my life.” He pulled her into his arms and held her while the occasional businessperson or jogger passed by. After a while he drew back and kissed first her right eyebrow, then her left. “We’ve been through this.” He paused and flexed the muscles in his jaw. Please, God . . . let her see how much I love her.
Reagan’s eyes glistened and she gave a few quick nods. “I know. I’m just being stupid.”
“Not stupid.” He kissed the tip of her nose this time. “Forgetful, maybe. But not stupid.”
She sniffed and uttered a frustrated laugh. “Okay, so I have a bad memory.” Her eyes danced and she looked all the way to his heart. “Tell me again, Luke . . . so I’ll know for sure.”
“Reagan . . .” He wanted to pull her into his arms again and never let go, never leave her worrying for a single moment that he wasn’t sure about the commitment they were about to make. “I don’t feel guilty or obligated or pushed into marrying you.” His words were softer than the breeze, meant for her alone. In the stroller, Tommy cooed and then went back to his bottle.
“You don’t? Really?”
“Really.” Times like this Luke understood better how hard the past year must have been on her. Reagan Decker had always been the picture of confidence, the only girl who hadn’t fallen over herself when he asked her out. But now . . . now she needed his reassurance, and he was glad to give it. “I don’t feel rushed into marriage; I feel grateful. Because you, Miss Decker—” his lips met hers and lingered for several seconds—“are the love of my life. And I can’t wait to be married to you.”
“Me, too.” Her expression eased, and she gave a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. “Just checking.”
They began walking again, and Luke narrowed his eyes at a play structure far in the distance. “I guess I’m thinking about Hayley.”
“Oh.” A breeze picked up and swirled a handful of leaves onto the path before them. Reagan adjusted Tommy’s bottle and exhaled in a tired sort of way. “What’s the latest?”
“My mom calls every few days, but so far she’s about the same. Awake but struggling. Stiff . . . hard to console . . . they’re certain she’s blind.”
Reagan had heard the news before, but she winced all the same. A minute passed before she said, “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s what I was thinking.” He kicked at a loose bit of gravel and let his eyes fall to Tommy’s face, his perfect hands. “It doesn’t make me doubt God, the way I doubted him after the terrorist attacks.” He looked at her. “But it makes me wonder.”
She looped her arm through his as they kept walking. “It makes us all wonder.”
“I mean, God could take her, right? Take her to heaven where she could be the Hayley we all knew and loved.” Something caught his attention, and he looked to the right, where a little girl was doing cartwheels for an older woman sitting on a bench. As
Luke studied her, he could almost see Hayley’s face on the child, doing something Hayley would never be able to do. He looked at Reagan again. “But now . . . now she might never get out of bed. It’s hard.”
“The timing is interesting.”
“Yep. If it had happened six months ago, I might never have found my way back to God. Too many reasons to be angry at him.”
“You don’t feel that way now, do you?”
“Not at all.” He tightened his grip on the stroller. “Now I can see the truth for what it is. God has a plan for her, even if we don’t understand it.”
“Right.”
“But still . . .”
“Still we have to pray for a miracle.” Reagan gave him a sad smile. “Nothing is impossible with God, remember?”
“Definitely.”
He was quiet again. “Watching Brooke with Hayley, the patience she shows, the way she massages Hayley’s stiff arms and legs for hours at a time.” Luke shook his head. “It was a picture of love, you know?”
Reagan stopped this time. “You, Luke Baxter—” she locked eyes with him and tapped his collarbone with her fingertip—“are also a picture of love.”
“Aw, shucks . . .” He grinned. “Only when my hair’s combed.”
“No, silly.” She poked at his ribs. “Even if you didn’t have a stitch of hair at all.”
“Really?” He was teasing her. The mood between them had lightened, and he felt his heart lift ten feet because of it.
“Yes.” She poked at his other side. “Even when you’re a hundred and one I’ll still go to bed every night amazed that we found each other again.”
“Thanks to Ashley.” He raised his eyebrows at her.
She grinned. “Thanks to Ashley.”
“And God.”
“Mostly God.”
Luke hugged her close again, keeping his face back far enough so he never lost sight of her eyes. “Makes me think of something my dad told me last year, back when I didn’t want to hear anything he said.”
Reagan tossed her hair over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
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