Luke stopped writing and looked out the window at the endless blue, at the sky’s distant floor of cotton-ball clouds. One detail about that night would haunt him always. Reagan’s father had called when the game was over. His call went to voice mail because neither of them wanted to stop. In the message her father had been excited about the game. He talked about hoping to see her soon. At the time, Reagan had insisted that they didn’t need to stop, didn’t need to take the call. She could call him back in the morning. But in the morning, while Reagan and Luke were in separate classes stunned by the guilt and regret of their choices the night before, terrorists attacked New York City. Reagan’s dad worked at the top of the World Trade Center, and before she had time to call him or tell him good-bye, he was gone.
Reagan wouldn’t talk to Luke after that. She sat in her apartment too shocked to cry or speak or move. As soon as she could, she flew home to New York City, and after that she wouldn’t take Luke’s calls. Luke was devastated, of course. His entire world forever changed in a day. Several times Luke thought about going to New York, finding Reagan and demanding she talk to him. He was sorry for what had happened the night before 9 – 11, sorry he hadn’t been stronger. But he still loved her. The silence between them could do nothing to make things right.
Reagan’s complete severance of their relationship sent Luke into a tailspin that almost killed him. Later that fall he took up with a radical girl from one of his classes at IU, and not long after he moved in with her. Luke found his place on the letter again.
I’ve never seen you like that before or since, Dad. You were relentless. Like you would’ve walked over fire or broken glass or laid down your life to get me home again. You told me I’d believed a lie, and you were right. I can’t calculate the sort of grief I caused you that year—mocking our faith, living with a girl I barely knew, and throwing out everything I previously believed to be true and right.
Through it all you never, ever gave up on me.
Again Luke stopped and this time he rested his head against the back of the airplane seat. It was still another hour at least before they landed, long enough to remember how much his family loved him. Not only his dad, but Ashley. The sister he had persecuted the most. The one he had judged and thought ill-equipped to be a Baxter. If it weren’t for Ashley and their dad, everything about Luke’s life as it was today would be different. The thought was horrifying.
Because what Luke didn’t know when she left Indiana for New York City that fall was that Reagan had been pregnant. The following May she gave birth to a baby boy and named him Tommy, after her father, but even then she made no attempt to find Luke. In her mind they’d done the unforgivable. And because of their sin, she’d missed the chance to talk to her dad for the last time. It was more than Reagan could bear, and she assigned it all to her relationship with Luke.
The whole while, Landon Blake was in New York City working as a firefighter, but not until Ashley went to the City to see him did she spot Reagan and the baby. Which was how Ashley became the liaison between Reagan and Luke and facilitator of their eventual reunion. Even then it wasn’t until his family’s annual Fourth of July picnic that Luke fully returned. By then God had taught Luke much about pride and humility. No one had sunk further and faster than he had, so never again would he have room to judge. People fell. They sinned and made mistakes and acted out crazy decisions that went against everything they knew to be true.
And even then there was room for redemption.
Once more Luke returned to the letter. I’ll always remember the way your arms felt around me that day. I had it in my mind somehow that I was too dirty, too messed up to come home. I was worse than all my siblings combined. Yet there you were, tears on your face, holding me like I’d never done anything wrong. Then and now, you showed me what love looks like, what it means to forgive and extend grace to people.
His dad’s wisdom and love had come into play again and again over the years. Your advice always worked, Dad. When Reagan and I have struggled, your words have brought us back to love again. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.
Luke wrapped up his letter and smiled. It took two whole pages, which was okay. Ashley hadn’t given him a limit. He could have easily written more. His dad had been the first to encourage them to adopt from China, and the first there to celebrate when he and Reagan brought Malin home. And when they adopted again — this time from a local agency — no one had been more supportive of their decision than his father. The fact that the baby turned out to be the son of Andi Ellison — friend of Bailey Flanigan — was an amazing reality that still boggled Luke’s mind. But he would always hold in his heart the joy on his dad’s face when they told him what they were going to name their newborn adopted son. John Baxter. Little Johnny.
The plane was about to land and he’d said what he needed to say. Good thing, since the party was tomorrow. If his letter had been difficult in places he could hardly imagine the letter some of his siblings had to write. And in that moment he felt a deep sadness for one of the six of them. The one who had missed the most growing up. The brother they knew nothing about until a decade ago.
Dayne Matthews.
Seven
JOHN BAXTER HAD A FEELING SOMETHING WAS UP. HIS SEVENTIeth birthday was approaching, and on this early Friday morning as he finished his devotions in Galatians, chapter 5, and put down his pen after journaling about the fruit of the Holy Spirit, he couldn’t help but smile at the way Ashley had been acting. She’d invited him and Elaine over for a barbecue on Saturday — a few days before his actual birthday. But she must’ve asked him three times this past week whether he was indeed coming, and verifying the time and insisting they didn’t need to bring anything.
If John knew his daughter, she was planning some sort of surprise party. At least for the local members of the family. John closed his journal and his Bible and checked the time. Often at this early hour he would get a call from Erin. She woke up earlier than most of them, the only way she could find time with the Lord, she would say. No matter who might be at the barbecue Saturday, he would miss the fact that Erin couldn’t be there. She’d already told him that she couldn’t make it out to Bloomington this summer. Finances were too tight, and Sam couldn’t get the time off work.
John unplugged his cell phone from the charger and found Erin’s number. He had gotten good at texting. It was the favorite means of communication for most of the grandkids, and even for his grown sons and daughters. At this hour it was the best way to see if Erin was awake without actually waking her. He tapped out a quick message.
I read Galatians this morning, like you suggested last time we talked. Such a great book. Today’s reading was about the fruit of the Spirit. I read the list … love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, thoughtfulness, and self-control … and all I could think about was you kids when you were little. The atmosphere of our home. So grateful we had God guiding us through the years. You awake?
Elaine was already up making coffee in the kitchen. By the time John made the bed, his phone began to ring. John hesitated, enjoying his new ringtone. “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” A hymn that had meant so much to him and to the Baxter family over the years. He smiled when he saw Erin’s picture in the screen. He picked up the phone and clicked the Talk button. “Hi, honey. How’s your morning?”
“Great so far.” She sounded a little distant, like it was windy wherever she was. “Isn’t Galatians amazing? I’m on Ephesians now. So much the Lord is teaching me.”
“I love that.”
“Me, too.” Again she sounded like she was in the middle of something. “How’s the weather in Bloomington?”
“Sunny and cool now … but it’ll heat up later.” He laughed a little. “Supposed to be in the nineties tomorrow.”
“Hmm. I miss it.” There was the sound of the girls’ voices and at least a few giggles.
“What’s going on over there?” John loved the way Erin parented. Her kids were so happy
, so sure of the way they were loved.
“Oh … just a little morning cleaning.” She paused and more laughter filled the phone line. “Right, girls?”
They all seemed to say yes at the same time. John laughed, picturing them. “Tell them I said hi.”
“I will.” She hesitated again. “Your papa says hi!”
“Hi, Papa!” He could hear Clarissa’s voice the loudest. But then that was nothing new. The girl was a spark plug for sure. And growing up way too fast.
“I wish you could be here tomorrow. We should’ve flown you and the girls in, since Sam couldn’t get the time off.”
“That’s right … your birthday’s this week. Seventy, right?”
“The calendar says so, but I don’t feel like it. Elaine and I have been bike riding along with our regular walking. I feel half that.”
“Good, Dad. I’m so glad you take care of yourself.” The laughter left her voice. “I wish I could be there, too. But it isn’t only Sam. The girls have swim team this week, and Heidi Jo has soccer.” A loud bit of laughter sounded in the background. “Are you having a birthday party? I haven’t heard any plans.”
“Not really.” John suddenly wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. If Erin didn’t know about it, then maybe it wasn’t happening. “Ashley and Landon are having us over for a barbecue tomorrow. I guess I kind of thought … more of the family might show up.”
“I wish we were there.” Her tone was more serious than before. “Keep praying for Sam to get a job in Bloomington or Indianapolis. And pray for the girls and this whole thing with Candy.” The worry was strong in her voice. She had kept him up-to-date about Candy’s release from prison and the woman’s interest in visitation rights. “We’d all rather be there than here.”
“I will.” John sat on the bench at the foot of his bed and looked out the window. The small tract home where he and Elaine lived was much smaller than the Baxter house, where he and Elizabeth had raised their family. But the view from the master bedroom looked out over a field and half a dozen horses. It made him feel like they were still in the country. He pictured his youngest daughter, busy with her family. “Hey, Erin … I want you to know something.”
“What’s that?” The girls were still giggling hard enough to be heard.
“I’m very, very proud of you. Supporting Sam’s decision to move back to Texas … doing everything you can to help your family get on track financially. And being such a great mom to those girls.” He smiled, even as tears gathered in his eyes. “I miss you all so much, but you’re doing the right thing. Maybe we can Skype sometime this weekend.”
“That’d be perfect.”
“Anyway, that’s it. Just wanted you to know how much I love you.”
“Aww, Dad … I love you, too. I wish we could all be there for your birthday. Really. I’m who I am today because of you, because of the faith and love you and Mom taught me.”
John’s heart swelled. “Thanks, honey. That means more than you know.”
After a minute, the call ended and John sauntered to his closet and the box on the top shelf. It was where he kept everything from Elizabeth. Her favorite sweater, her special earrings and the things the kids had made her over the decades. Pictures of her, and a scrapbook of the letters she’d written to them. He pulled it down and set it on a dresser top at the far end of the closet. From inside he pulled out a framed photo, one he had always loved. It showed her when she was in her midthirties, surrounded by the five kids, her face glowing with joy and laughter.
Of all the girls, Erin looked most like her. And of all the girls, Erin had been closest to her. It was like the others all found their place socially and academically a little more quickly than Erin had. She was smart enough — she had a degree in education and she’d taught kindergarten before adopting the girls. But growing up she was always happiest with Elizabeth.
The reality of his approaching birthday hit him. Seventy years. Even though his precious Elizabeth had been gone for nearly ten of those, the time with her would forever stand as the greatest part of his life. Loving Elizabeth, raising their kids together. Yes, he loved Elaine and he treasured the time God had given him with his second wife. She was kind and considerate and she loved his family as if they were her own. But nothing could compare to the days with his first love. He never tried to pretend otherwise.
John stared at the photo and remembered again the grief and heartache when Elizabeth was diagnosed with breast cancer a second time. She’d battled it and won when the kids were younger, and she’d been free of the disease long enough that they all thought she was cured for good. But cancer was an unrelenting monster, pursuing every healthy cell and looking for an opportunity. Once it found one a second time with Elizabeth, its course was swift and deadly.
They all took her loss hard. Only the letters she’d written to them over the years and the faithfulness of God Almighty got them through it. Especially for poor Erin. Her siblings had all lost their mother, and the most important woman in their lives.
But Erin had lost her best friend.
When he began his courtship with Elaine, when it looked more and more like he might marry her and spend his remaining years with her rather than alone, Erin had been among the grown kids most affected. One time she pulled John aside with tears in her eyes.
“Dad, it’s not that I don’t want you to be happy. You know that, right?”
“I do, honey.” He stroked her hair, understanding her pain. “Of course.”
“It’s just that …” a quiet sob slipped from her throat. “I don’t want us to forget Mom. And I’m afraid … if Elaine’s here all the time we won’t be able to talk about her. Like it’ll be awkward.”
John had spent the next half hour explaining that nothing of the sort would happen. “Elaine was one of your mother’s closest friends. She wants you to talk about your mom, honey. It’ll never feel strange or awkward, I promise you.”
The conversation seemed to help Erin get through the next few months and the reality of John’s remarriage. And like he promised, Elizabeth came up often after that and even still today. Elaine remained deeply sensitive to all the Baxter family had lost when they lost Elizabeth, and she enjoyed talking about the memories of when she was alive.
Yes, God had worked through all the details, helping him hold on to his love for Elizabeth even while loving Elaine. John ran his thumb over the picture of Elizabeth and he remembered a sermon he’d heard once about love. The preacher had stated that there were several types of love. An all-encompassing love for mankind, and a romantic love, and a more surface love for all things enjoyable. But John disagreed. In his experience there were as many kinds of love as there were people. Love between two hearts, two souls was never the same from one person to the next.
And so it was still true that he would never love anyone the way he had loved Elizabeth. They had been through most of life together, after all. The fall they’d gone through before they were married, and Elizabeth’s unplanned pregnancy. The awful decision on her parents’ part to send her away and insist that she give up her baby up for adoption — the way that sort of situation was handled back in those days. Their longing for their firstborn son all the years while they raised their family, and their determination to not talk about him sometimes for whole years in a row. The way they’d been advised by the counselor at the hospital not to talk about him.
John was still grateful beyond anything he could put into words that Elizabeth’s prayer had been answered, that in her final hours she’d had the chance to meet Dayne and see that he knew about her. The heavenly reunion between them all one day would be sweeter than anything any of them could imagine.
John slipped the photo back into the box and returned it to the top shelf. There would be more time for remembering in the days to come. He needed that, and Elaine understood it. Especially in light of this birthday.
Before he left the bedroom he prayed, talked to God like he did every single day at thi
s time. There in his closet he slowly dropped to his knees. Something about the feel of the floor beneath his knees reminded him of his place before the Lord, the relative smallness and insignificance of anything he might face in comparison to the grandeur and love of God.
Father, You know my youngest daughter, Erin, and You love her. She misses family so much, Lord. Please help Sam find permanent work here in Indiana so we might all be together. And please protect those girls from their birth mother, if she’s still a risk. If she is, please expose her, Lord. John forced himself not to feel anxious about the situation. God would go before them, the way He always had. He continued his prayer. Father, if Erin could be here this week, she would. We all know that. But a permanent reunion could only come through a miracle, Father. That’s what I’m asking for. The best birthday present ever would be to know that Erin could be surrounded by family once more. He went on to pray for each of his adult kids, for their spouses and children and for the Lord to bless them in their talents and time, for Him to help them with whatever challenges they faced in this season.
When he finished praying, he stood, his heart full. However much he loved his family, however grateful he was for the way they walked with God and shared with their families the love they’d been raised with, John was most comforted by this single thought. The Lord loved them even more than he did. Whether it was a job situation or a health crisis or a tragedy of some sort, God had always seen them through. And that was the comfort he’d learned to live in now that he was almost seventy years old. There was nothing to worry about where his family was concerned.
God had everything in control.
Coming Home: A Story of Undying Hope Page 7