Kari recalled in her letter the way her dad had rushed her to Ryan’s side when he was injured. “You always knew what I needed, Dad. Even before I knew myself.” She thanked him for standing by her decision to love Tim, her first husband, even after his affair. “But then, I wouldn’t have expected anything less. You have always told us that love is a decision, and you’ve lived that out with Mom and with each of us here. Thank you for still being that example, Dad. I love you.”
John squeezed Elaine’s hand before walking to Kari and pulling her close. “I love you, too.”
Ashley cleared her throat and unfolded her letter. “Dear Dad, I told this to Landon the other day, and I can say the same thing to you. Through the years I was never easy to love. At least not in my younger days.” She went on to thank her father for standing by her no matter how great her rebellion. “I came home from Paris with a jaded heart and a little boy.” She stopped and smiled through her tears at Cole. His eyes held a depth beyond his years as they shared a look.
Ashley blinked, trying to see the paper in her hand. “I brought shame on the family and difficulty to all of you. But Dad,” she looked up for a few seconds, “you stood by me even then. You and Mom treated Cole like he was your own son, and over time you loved me back to God. You really did. I’ll always be so thankful for that. Otherwise I might never have let the walls of my heart down enough to love Landon Blake. Like Brooke, I can’t imagine who I’d be without you. Your love made me who I am.”
Ashley started to cry as she finished reading. Because of that, the hug between John and her lasted longer than the others. When she found control again, and as she sat down, Amy took hold of her arm again and Janessa scurried over and sat in Ashley’s lap. “It’s okay, Mommy. You don’t have to cry.”
Again the laughter was greatly needed, and the atmosphere in the room lightened immediately. Ashley hugged her little girl, and put her other arm around Amy.
It was Erin’s turn, and a few awkward seconds passed while Luke opened an envelope and pulled out his letter. “I titled it, ‘The Prodigal,’“ he smiled at John and then began reading. His letter recalled how growing up he had thought his parents were perfect. “And so I tried to be perfect, too. I thought that’s what Baxters were supposed to do.”
He went on to explain that when he fell, he fell hard because he didn’t think there was any way back. “I was no longer perfect … So, I guess I figured I wasn’t part of the family.” The others were quiet, listening. Except for Dayne, all of them had watched Luke make this journey. But hearing him talk about it was insightful for all of them. “I don’t know if it was learning about Dayne or the talk you had with me that night, but I learned something through my fall. I learned I was never perfect before, and I would never be perfect at any time in the future.”
He stopped and lifted grateful eyes to John before looking back at his letter once more. “Being a Baxter means we celebrate each other’s victories, and we pick each other up when we fall down. It means never letting someone go. The way you never let me go, Dad. You and Mom gave us the greatest gift with this family. Now I want to take that legacy and make that same sort of wonderful life for mine.”
John hugged his youngest son and thought about the time a decade ago when he would cry out hourly for his return, for his restoration and redemption. God was faithful above all things, even in this. The knowing after all these years that his refusal to give up on Luke was what eventually led him home again.
They were finished, but there was something none of them knew about. The reason John had learned about the letters before anyone mentioned them this afternoon. He sat slowly down and Elaine handed him a tattered piece of paper. John took it carefully and looked at the others. “I was given Erin’s purse after the accident. A few days ago I went through the mess inside and I found this.” He held up the piece of paper. “The letter Erin had written for my birthday.”
A slight gasp came from Kari and Ashley. Even the kids seemed to sit a little more still in light of the revelation. “I’ve already read it. Alone, where I could hold on to this … last message from Erin to me. But I thought I should share it with all of you.” He gave Ashley a sad smile. “The way she would’ve done a week ago if … if things had gone differently.”
John drew a full breath and began to read, “Dear Dad … I can’t believe I’m going to see you in just a few days. I like to think that’ll be one of the best parts of your surprise.” His voice caught, and he stopped. He looked at the faces of his grown kids, their tears and breaking hearts. He shifted his attention to Amy. She had her face tucked close to Ashley’s arm, but even now she wasn’t crying. As if it was too soon to have any idea what it meant that her family now lived in heaven, or the way her entire existence had changed so drastically in a single instant.
He somehow found the strength to continue. Erin had written about missing the family and sometimes feeling different than the others. “Growing up, I never quite fit in with my sisters. But you and Mom were always there for me, always encouraging me. And because of the way you loved me, Dad, eventually I stopped feeling sorry for myself.”
John looked from Brooke to Kari and then Ashley before he found his place again. “When that happened, I found a friendship with my sisters that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. It’s why I hate living so far away.” She finished her letter asking him to pray that somehow their family would find a way to make a permanent move back to Bloomington. He felt more tears in anticipation of the way Erin’s letter ended. He steadied his hand so he could see the words. “For now, I’m just so glad to celebrate your birthday with you … so glad we’re coming home. I’ll love you and admire you always, Erin.”
As the others rose slowly to their feet and crossed the room toward him, as they stood once more in a group hug, their tears and hearts joined the way they would forever be joined, John was struck by the only thought that could possibly bring him comfort now. Erin was right about coming home … that’s exactly what God had planned for her and Sam and the girls. Right now they would be celebrating and remembering and enjoying each other’s company. The reunion must’ve been beyond description because they were indeed home.
Just not the way the rest of them had expected.
For the rest of his life, John would hold close the memories of the past hour, the kind words from his kids and the ways they felt loved or helped or changed by having him as their father. His greatest accomplishments had been shared one at a time, and he would be grateful always for their desire to tell him. In a way it was a snapshot of his entire life, all seventy years.
Summed up in six beautifully written letters.
Twenty-Four
IN THE PREDAWN DARKNESS, ASHLEY CREPT THROUGH THE house and kissed each of her kids good-bye while they slept. First Cole then Devin, Janessa, and finally Amy. It was Tuesday, the day before the hearing in Texas, and Landon was about to drive her to the airport. She lingered near Amy’s bed. Dear Lord … please let her open up to me. I haven’t found a way to really reach her. Ashley hesitated, but there was no audible answer. Just the truth her dad had always lived out.
Love was a decision.
She had promised Erin she would love Amy, and she was committed to keeping that promise. Whether that meant fighting it out in court tomorrow or patiently waiting for Amy to show some kind of emotion. Tears or anger, frustration or questions … anything that would give Ashley a window to what the girl was feeling.
A sigh came from the deepest part of Ashley’s soul as she hurried down and grabbed her bag. Ten minutes later they were on the way to Indianapolis, and Landon put his hand on her knee. “I’m proud of you … fighting for Amy like this.”
“I have to.” Ashley felt cold, even though the temperatures hovered around seventy degrees. “I made a promise.”
For a few minutes neither of them said anything. Landon was the first to break the silence. “Have you thought, Ash? What if we don’t get to keep her?”
She wanted to come back with a qu
ick answer, a certain belief that of course they would get to keep her. But Luke had called again last night and said the same thing. Now she stared at the dark empty highway in front of them. “It could happen. Luke says he’s worried.”
“Me, too.” He slid his fingers between hers. “You care so much about this, but we have to go in with a realistic approach.”
“You know what I’d rather do?” Ashley turned and looked at him, her voice tender. “I’d rather ask God for a miracle.” She paused. “Erin said in her text that she had proof. We just have to figure out what it is.”
Landon seemed about to say that they didn’t have long to make that happen. But he stayed quiet. “I think you’re right. We all need to pray for a miracle.”
“I called everyone. They’re all praying.” She leaned her head back against the seat. The call with Luke last night had gone later than she intended. Now she was exhausted. “Everyone knows we need a miracle.”
The one who understood the least, of course, was Amy. Ashley had taken her for a walk around the property yesterday and explained that she was going to Texas to talk to Candy Burns. “You know who she is, right?” Ashley’s tone was gentle, the conversation unrushed.
“Yes. She gave birth to me and my sisters.” She turned frightened eyes toward Ashley. “My mommy didn’t want us to see her.”
“I know, sweetie. That’s why I’m going to Texas.”
But there was no possible way to help the child understand how high the stakes were for tomorrow’s hearing. She would’ve had to go to the hearing if she hadn’t been injured. In no time they were at the airport. Landon took her suitcase from the car and set it on the curb, then he wrapped his arms around her and held her. “I wish I could be with you.”
“Me, too.” She kissed him, drawing strength from him. “The kids need you.” Ashley had asked the social worker if Landon could sign the paperwork later, provided they win custody. She had agreed, but again she had warned Ashley that the case didn’t look good.
At least Landon would help the kids miss Ashley less, help keep things normal. Even Cole hated that she was going away. Since the accident his good-byes even when she went to the market were more drawn out. As if he was more aware that there were no guarantees beyond the moment.
Landon kissed her once more. “I’ll pray constantly.” He smiled, his eyes still concerned. “Keep me posted.”
“I will.” She took her suitcase and pulled it behind her as she headed for the door. She stopped just once to look back and wave. And once she was inside and had her boarding pass she met up with Luke at the gate.
He’d been practically going crazy trying to find the proof Erin had referred to. “I’ve talked to a number of people at her church, and even some of the neighbors near Candy Burns’s mother’s house. I’ve checked with the local police, in case Candy made some sort of threat and Erin documented it.” He frowned. “I’ve spoken with Naomi Boggs ten times a day this past week and neither of us can come up with anything.”
Then — and only then — did it hit Ashley how critical the situation was. Yes, Luke had been telling her things didn’t look good. But suddenly the reality was at hand. They could lose tomorrow’s hearing, and in a matter of days Amy would suffer one final blow. She would have to be sent by plane to live with a woman who once tried to sell her. A woman who, at least according to Erin’s understanding, was far from rehabilitated.
“There has to be a way.” Ashley was quiet the rest of the time at the gate. Seated beside her, Luke continued to check his phone, then Erin’s phone, then his list of notes. As if he was searching everything he knew to be true about Erin’s patterns and contacts and history to figure out what she must’ve meant when she told the social worker she had proof.
Proof that would make all the difference in Amy’s future.
THE HEARING TOOK PLACE IN A nondescript paneled room, not much bigger than a classroom. The judge sat at the front behind a long built-in desk. Her hair was curled and she wore a floral dress. She looked more like someone on the potluck committee at church than a certified judge.
But whatever her background or political bent, she was about to make a decision that would change Amy’s life. The room held just four rows of seats. Ashley sat next to Luke on one side of the front row. At the other end of the row, a public attorney sat with two files open on his lap. He looked focused.
Right in the middle sat Naomi Boggs. She, too, had a file open on her lap.
Ashley remembered to breathe. Please, God … we need a miracle. Decisions like this one happened every day in cities all over the country. How could they let the judge know that this wasn’t any other case? She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at her brother. He’d been texting up until a minute ago. “Anything?”
He shook his head. The frustration and concern in his eyes darkened his expression. “We’ll have to use her text. That’s all we’ve got.”
Erin believed she had proof that Candy Burns intended to use the girls as a means of extortion — same as before. No, Ashley and Luke didn’t have proof. But the fact that Erin believed she had seen such a thing, had to count for something.
At least that’s what they were praying.
Luke had Erin’s fully charged phone in his possession. He hoped to have the chance to let the judge hold the phone in her hands and read the text for herself. But even then Luke had been up front about the gravity of the situation. “It’s really not proof at all,” he told Ashley before the hearing. “Just keep praying.”
Candy Burns took the stand. She was thin and weathered, but for the occasion she wore what must’ve been one of her best outfits. Polyester dark pants and a matching dark blazer, over a white blouse. Even with her worn-out look, she seemed at first glance absolutely fit to be a mother.
Ashley clenched her jaw as the woman took her seat on the witness stand. Where are You, God? Please … help us. We’re going to lose if we don’t have Your help.
I will never leave you or forsake you, my daughter. Never.
The words echoed across her heart and brought a comfort she needed. But they weren’t a guarantee. She narrowed her eyes, studying the Burns woman. Ashley wasn’t a psychiatrist, but as an artist she had learned to read people, study them. Candy Burns was nervous, no doubt. And something about her eyes looked guilty. But again that wouldn’t matter compared to the court’s assessment that between parenting classes and drug rehabilitation the woman was safe to resume custody of her daughter.
Naomi had assured them that Candy had filed for full custody the day after she learned about the accident. “I think she smells an insurance policy.” Naomi looked like she was angry with the system. “If Erin said she had proof Candy wanted money, I believe her. But we need something tangible.”
Candy was stating her name for the court. Once that was done, the judge turned to Candy’s attorney for an explanation of the case.
The man stood. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five. “Your Honor, Ms. Burns’s mother participated in an open adoption of her three daughters after she was sentenced to prison many years ago. As you know, open adoptions include terms agreed upon by both the birth mother — in this case the grandmother — and the adoptive parents.” He walked over a copy of the open adoption contract and handed it to the judge. “I’d like you to read the clause in item number 14-A. It allows that if something happened to Erin and Sam Hogan — the adoptive parents — then Ms. Burns’s mother would regain custody of the girls.”
Ashley couldn’t believe Erin and Sam would sign something like that. They must’ve been desperate for the girls, certain nothing would ever happen to them while the girls were still young. Besides, the adoption probably hinged on the clause. Her heartbeat struggled to find a rhythm anything close to regular.
Up front the lawyer paced back to his seat and sorted through another file for a moment. “Unfortunately, the Hogan family was in a terrible car accident ten days ago. The adoptive parents and three of their adopted
daughters were killed. Only Candy Burns’s daughter, Amy, survived.”
Without any sense of ceremony, without the depth and seriousness befitting the stakes of this case, the man simply said, “Candy has been through parenting classes and she’s rehabilitated from her drug use. She’s out of prison now, and since the adoption agreement allows for it, she wants to step in instead of her mother and regain custody of the child.” He hesitated and looked from the judge to Naomi Boggs and back again. “If there are no objections, your Honor, I believe the court has other matters more pressing than this one.”
“Can I say something?” Candy’s voice was a mix of shrill fear and anger.
The judge turned and stared at her. Then she looked back at the woman’s attorney. “You can question your client, council, but your client cannot yell out.”
“I’m sorry, your Honor.” The man looked frustrated, like he hadn’t intended for this to be such a big ordeal. “I’d like to question my client.”
The judge waved her hand like she was shooing a fly. “Please.”
Candy looked outraged at the man. She smoothed her shirt and straightened her back. As if she wondered how dare he consider ignoring her thoughts on the matter. Her attorney approached her. “You’ve been through parenting classes. Tell me why you want to be a mother now.”
Candy cleared her throat. “I’ve always been a mother. I mean … I always wanted to be a mother.” She lifted her chin and looked at Ashley. “I’ve had it rough, you know? Like it’s never been easy, but now …” She looked at the judge, and pointed back at Ashley. “Now that family gave the okay to have my little girls’ organs donated!” She glared at Luke. “Without my permission, by the way. And then two of my babies were buried in Indiana! When they should be here in Texas with me!”
The judge held up her hand. “The question was why,” she lowered her brow and a V formed between her eyes. “Why do you want to be a mother now?”
Coming Home: A Story of Undying Hope Page 24