Forever (21 page)

The conversation tonight

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T WAS DUSK in Bloomington, and John hadn’t been able to hake Reagan’s terrible news. He was taking the walk around his )roperty, the one he and Elizabeth had taken thousands of times )efore. Only this time-as was often the case lately-Elaine was It his side. He’d already caught her up on the latest news contrning Luke, and he was desperate for her insight.

Elaine glanced at John. “You agree with Reagan?” Their steps were slow, the fading sunset filling the air around them with a ort of quiet comfort. “That all this might be about Dayne?”

“It’s possible. I haven’t had a good conversation with Luke ince he found out that Dayne’s his brother.”

They weren’t far from the fishpond. When they reached it, laine crossed her arms. “Every time we’re out here I can picture :ole, crouched down looking for frogs and fish.” She looked )ver her shoulder at him. “The way I picture Cole, anyway. :rom his photographs.”

John felt something strange stirring inside him. Did she mean omething by the comment? Something deeper? He opened his mouth to ask her but changed his mind.

The conversation tonight

162 wasn’t about the two of them. It was about Luke. He linked hi arm through hers and led her up the walkway toward the hoti, They sat in the porch swing, and Elaine was quieter than ustid I “More than anything, I think Luke’s struggling with himsel

Who he is and who he’s becoming.” John narrowed his eyes looked out over the grassy fields that spread across the land

scape. “I remember feeling that way halfway through ni( school. You’re trying to support a family, and you wake up on day and wonder if all the work’s ever going to pay off.”

“He’s your son, John.” Elaine lifted her gaze to the darkeniii:,, sky. “He’ll figure it out. Tell him how you and Elizabeth worked through things.” She smiled at him, but there was a distance in

“I will.” He set the swing gently in motion. “Dayne’s still in “She is. Now she’s spending the nights at the hotel across the “Do you think he has a chance to pull out of it?”

John hated thinking about the situation. “Every day the odds “But the God we serve isn’t interested in odds.” She looked at “So true.” They rocked for a while before he spoke again. “Odds were the tabloids would smear our names across a dozen A bat dipped low in front of them and flapped off into the shadows. The first mention of Dayne’s accident had hit the tab-bids the Monday after they returned from Los Angeles. The news that he was in critical condition made the covers of every magazine that week. Details of the accident and the arrival of Katy Hart at the hospital along with her constant bedside vigil FOREVER

them. It was about Luke. He linked hi

d h r up the walkway toward the hoti, Ting, and Elaine was quieter than ustid I , I think Luke’s struggling with himsel becoming.” John narrowed his ey s aihl assy fields that spread across the land cling that way halfway through ni(

support a family, and you wake up on(

e work’s ever going to pay off.”

” Elaine lifted her gaze to the darkeniii:, Tell him how you and Elizabeth worked -tiled at him, but there was a distance in xing gently in motion. “Dayne’s still in you that.”

,Tith him?”

ending the nights at the hotel across the we. Not for anything.”

; a chance to pull out of it?”

ibout the situation. “Every day the odds ler.”

e isn’t interested in odds.” She looked at led that much.”

:ed for a while before he spoke again. would smear our names across a dozen at didn’t happen.”

front of them and flapped off into the :ion of Dayne’s accident had hit the tabthey returned from Los Angeles. The ical condition made the covers of every „tails of the accident and the arrival of 11 along with her constant bedside vigil story.

her eyes. “That should help.”

the coma. I guess I told you that.” “Yes. Katy’s staying with him?”

street. But she won’t leave. Not for anything.”

of his recovery get smaller.”

the sky again. “I’ve learned that much.”

covers last week. But that didn’t happen.” “Perfect example.”

were the focus of every story.

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But there was only a small boxed sidebar inside three of the rags that mentioned Dayne’s biological family. “Mystery Family Members Accompany Katy Hart” one of the headlines read. The story said only that records showed Dayne Matthews was adopted, and sources confirmed that he’d located his birth family in recent months. The article questioned whether the two people who entered the hospital with Katy Hart might in fact be members of his biological family. End of story.

Even Katy had come out of the paparazzi frenzy fairly unscathed. The articles played on the sympathy of readers, painting a picture of the sweet, innocent Katy Hart, previously known as Dayne Matthews’ mystery woman, now grieving beside him as he fought for his life. Sources were quoted saying that Dayne had never loved anyone the way he loved Katy, and if there was any power in love, having her by his side would help him pull through.

Indeed.

John gave the swing a soft push. “There’ll probably be more about us in the weeks to come.”

“I’m sure.” Elaine’s words were shorter than usual. Clipped. “You’ll survive, though. You always do, you Baxters.”

A whip-poor-will cried as it swooped low over the far field. John caught Elaine’s expression in what remained of the daylight. It was definitely strained. “Something wrong?”

She didn’t answer at first, only raised her chin an inch and kept a strong front. But the way she pinched her lips together told the story. Something was wrong, and John realized it was the first time since they’d struck up a friendship that she’d kept him guessing. Always before, if she was struggling with one of her kids or troubled by a sick grandchild, she would say so early in the conversation. This was different.

After half a minute, she exhaled in a way that made her sound beyond tired. “You ever wonder, John … how come we talk about everything else?”

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His mind raced. First the comment about Cole, then the remark about the Baxters always surviving, and now this. “Everything else?”

“Your kids, my kids, your GRAND KIDS, mine. We talk about faith and fish and frogs.” Slowly she looked at him. “But we never, ever talk about us.”

The word hit John like a two-by-four. All this time, all the morning walks around the farmers’ market and the strolls around his property and down by the stream behind his house. The hours they’d spent sitting in the porch swing and building their friendship, and through all of it he’d wanted nothing more than to avoid that one word.

Us.

Because as far as John was concerned, the word us could only represent two people: him and Elizabeth.

He grabbed the swing chain and squeezed it with all his strength. “You and I . .

. we’re friends, Elaine.” He tried to hide the hurt in his heart, tried not to let her hear it in his voice. In that moment he ached for his lost wife more than he had in days, months. The smell of jasmine hung in the breeze. He turned to Elaine, searching her face. “I never meant to make you think it was more.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she gave a quick nod and forced a smile. “I know.” She stood and with both her hands took hold of his free one. Almost the way she might greet a stranger, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I need to go.”

“Elaine … why? What’s changed?”

A single tear fell onto her cheek. -Nothing.” Her smile faded. “That’s just it.”

Without saying good-bye, she turned and walked to her car, her back straight.

She never once looked over her shoulder at John. She stopped at her car door, but even then she hesitated only a few seconds. Then she climbed in, started the engine, and drove away.

When he could no longer see her car making its way down the 165

country road that led away from his house, John sucked in a long breath and released his hold on the swing chain. God, I don’t understand.

“I know the plans I have for you … plans to prosper you and not to harm you.”

The verse nearly knocked the wind from him. It was the one he and Elizabeth had used so many times in talking to their children. When Kari was heartbroken over Ryan Taylor’s football injury, when it looked like Brooke wouldn’t get into med school. Erin’s struggle with having children, Ashley’s health scare, and Luke’s frustration with God after 9/11. Always they’d told their children the same thing. Jeremiah 29:11-God has plans for each person. Good plans. The key was to walk with Him, step by step, so the Lord could reveal those plans to each of them.

Only now God had brought the verse to mind for John as he watched Elaine’s car drive out of sight. Was Elaine part of the plans God had for him in this, the autumn of his life? Elizabeth had been gone over two years, and Elaine had been a widow for more than ten. Was it time he adjusted his definition of the word us to include Elaine? The thought made him ache, because deep down he knew that his friendship with Elaine was headed somewhere. And because he never intended to hurt her. Never.

But most of all because he still missed his dear Elizabeth.

He struggled to his feet, the weight of his sorrow like a chain around his neck and shoulders. Inside, he went to the one place where he could still see her, still feel her with him. Her rocker next to his recliner in the living room.

Countless nights they would sit here together, side by side, talking about their kids, studying the pictures of them on the mantel.

He made it over to her chair, and with all that remained of his strength, he did what he did only once in a rare while. When the pain of losing Elizabeth threatened to stop his next breath. He

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took hold of the back of the rocker, the place where she would lay her head when her eyes were tired and the night grew late. He held it as if he were holding her, clung to it as though he might somehow bring her back to him even for a few minutes.

“Elizabeth.” Her name was as right and real, as familiar as his own heartbeat.

He tightened his jaw and barely squeezed out the next words. “God … I miss her so.”

Standing there, gripping her chair that way, he could almost hear her voice, smell the subtle sweetness of her perfume. Gentle, loving, honest Elizabeth. How could she be gone, and how could another woman be wondering about her future with him? He hadn’t realized it until now, but tears were hot against his cheeks. He held on tighter, willing a little of Elizabeth’s strength to find its way into his heart.

Dayne was still in critical condition, Luke’s marriage was in trouble, and Ashley was feeling the strain of balancing her life at home with her increased duties at CKT and her desire to get the lakeside house fixed up for Katy Hart.

“Elizabeth, if you were here…”

“Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the battle is not yours, but God’s.”

Yes, God, I hear Your voice. The Scripture was from 2 Chronicles 20, where he and Elizabeth had always gone when times got tough. The battle belonged to the Lord. In the hardest times, the only way through was to remember that much. Part of the text reminded God’s people to take up their positions and stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord would bring.

I need that now, Lord. In so many areas.

At that moment, more than anything, John needed strength to stand, to once more let his dear Elizabeth go, the way he’d had to let her go a thousand times since her death. She’s Yours, God. I know that. Help me walk this journey without her.

I am with you, son.

Slowly, painfully, John released his hold on Elizabeth’s chair 167

Then, with a peace and strength that were not his own, he trudged upstairs to their room and into the closet, where her box of letters still sat on the upper shelf. Times like this, he could always take the box down and find something that would bring him comfort, a piece of Elizabeth’s heart that she could share with him even from as far away as heaven.

He sifted through the envelopes, and partway through the pile he felt one that was heavier than the others. Over the last two years John had discovered that once in a while Elizabeth had written a letter and made copies of it-one for each of the kids. It was why he knew he had to sort through all the letters one day. Because within them was a wealth of memories and wisdom that Elizabeth meant for her children. He was doing them a disservice not to make her words available to them.

He lifted the heavier envelope from the others and looked at it. Scrawled across the front in her own delicate handwriting were the words that graced the fronts of many of the letters: My dearest John.

The words soothed his heart and reminded him of all they’d shared. The idea that he might find that kind of love twice in a lifetime was absurd, and he needed to acknowledge that fact. He couldn’t duplicate with Elaine what he and Elizabeth had shared. Not even if it meant losing Elaine’s friendship.

He slid his finger carefully under the flap of the envelope, and sure enough, inside were several sheets of paper. He spread them on the bed. The top page was a letter to him. He lifted the paper to his face and breathed in long and slow.

It wasn’t his imagination. He could still smell her perfume on the pages, even after two years. Elizabeth had always kept her stationery in her perfume drawer-something her mother had taught her. And so the pages-though old-carried the smell that would always be hers alone.

He found the top of the page, the place with the date from ten years ago, and began to read.

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My dearest John,

Today I was volunteering with Elaine.

John’s heart skipped a beat. He almost dropped the page. 01 all the letters in the box, he had picked one in which Elizabeth mentioned Elaine? He stared at his friend’s name and felt a chill pass over him. God, is this a sign somehow? Am I supposed to remember that Elaine was Elizabeth’s friend first, so she should neve t be more than a friend to me?

He wasn’t sure, and maybe it didn’t matter. God wouldn’t be giving him a message about Elaine now. He dismissed the entire idea. Instead he continued reading.