Forever

by Karen Kingsbury

  Until Dayne.

  Luke stood and ambled along the path, slower now. What was the hurry? Reagan would be at home with the kids, warming up a bottle for Malin and fixing dinner for the rest of them. Her disgust with him would linger long after a talk like this one, clouding the air in the apartment and suffocating him, reminding him that he and Reagan might never have the lives they had separately dreamed about.

  He was almost to the part of the walkway where he would veer off to find the crosswalk, five minutes from home, when he spotted the new receptionist from the firm. She was jogging in his direction. He watched her and felt the attraction. She was tall with dark hair, twenty-one or twenty-two at the most. Hannah, right? Wasn’t that her name? She wore pink nylon running shorts and a T-shirt. He slowed his steps even more.

  All the guys in the office were talking about her, how she was unattainable, a rare beauty even in a city like New York. Luke swallowed hard and glanced at the shrub ahead on the right, the one that signaled his path home. Then just as quickly he looked at Hannah again.

  She didn’t notice him until she was a few yards from him. Then her eyes lit up like Times Square, and she bounced to a stop. “Hey . . .”

  “Hey.” Luke forced himself to keep his gaze at eye level. “You’re one of the brave ones, huh? Jogging with the tourists on a weekend.”

  Her forehead was damp from running. She wiped the back of her hand across it and laughed. “I guess so.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got worship practice tonight at church, and I’m busy tomorrow—singing at both services.” She gave him a shy smile. “It’s hard to get my workouts in now that I’m at the firm. I never have any free time.”

  He held out his hand, almost as an afterthought. “I’m Luke. I’m not sure we’ve met officially.”

  She smiled. “I know who you are.” She took his hand but didn’t linger any longer than was appropriate. “I’m Hannah. Nice to meet you officially.”

  Without thinking, he took a step back. He’d caught her eye more than once since she started working, and always they exchanged a smile. If he slid his chair to the far side of his desk and leaned to the left, he could see her at her workstation. Once when his door was open, he overheard Hannah’s coworker saying that Luke Baxter was the one who looked like Dayne Matthews. Hannah’s cheeks had been red for ten minutes after that. But something in her eyes had always told him that she wasn’t looking for a backstreet affair or a friend to flirt with. Now he knew why. She was one of the good girls. The kind of genuine girl he might’ve asked out on a date if his entire life wasn’t already decided for him. “Well, hey . . .” He took another step back. “I’ll let you get back to your run.”

  “Luke . . .”

  He stopped.

  “Are you married?” Her eyes were enormous, transparent. The sort of eyes a guy could get lost in.

  “I am.” He sensed a discomfort he wasn’t familiar with. Somehow knowing that his intentions toward Hannah hadn’t been right from the beginning.

  Something changed in her eyes—the raising of a wall maybe. “I wasn’t sure.” No visible regret, no obvious curiosity over whether Luke’s marriage was a happy one. No mention of his resemblance to Dayne Matthews, movie star. Just a closed door. Period. She wiped her forehead again and lifted her lips in a sensible smile. “See you at the office.” With that she jogged away.

  Luke realized something. He’d been holding his breath. Barely taking in enough oxygen so he wouldn’t faint right there in front of her. He exhaled and headed for the path that would take him home. With each step his heart thudded hard against his chest, chiding him, warning him, shouting at him. Not because he’d done anything wrong or given Hannah even the slightest hint of impropriety. He hadn’t winked at her or let on about the troubles he was wrestling with, and he hadn’t asked her anything personal. He made no insinuation whatsoever toward an affair.

  No, his heart was pounding for another reason. Because for a few minutes on a blazing-hot Saturday afternoon he had done the one thing he never imagined doing.

  He’d considered it.

  Jenny Flanigan was scraping a spatula through a pan of scrambled eggs when Bailey came running down the stairs. It was the end of August already, and they were half an hour from leaving for CKT teen camp, the first one Bailey and Connor could attend together.

  “I have nothing yellow!” Bailey made an exasperated sound. She tore through the kitchen toward the downstairs laundry room. “I’m on the yellow team, and I don’t have a single yellow T-shirt.”

  “Bailey, wait!” Connor came running down the stairs. “I found the box of costumes. There’s tons of yellow in there.”

  “Really?” She spun around and jogged back through the kitchen and up the stairs behind him.

  Katy rounded the corner at the same time. “I can’t believe it.” She grinned at Jenny. “I’m actually packed before Bailey.”

  “Yeah, but your color’s blue.” Jenny giggled. “Practically everything you own is blue.”

  “Good point.” Katy laughed. She pulled a loaf of bread from the fridge. “I’ll make the toast.”

  “Thanks.”

  Like always, once they checked in at teen camp the kids would meet with their teams. Then throughout the week they would share games and Bible teaching and grueling rehearsals. At the end of the week they’d perform a shortened version of a Broadway musical. This year the show was The Wiz. Jenny had already talked to Bailey and Connor about the casting, same as she did before every CKT show. Just because Katy lived with them didn’t mean they’d have a better shot at a lead part. And placement in the ensemble was often more fun than a starring role. Neither of her oldest kids seemed too worried about the casting.

  Jenny flipped a section of eggs and diced it with the edge of the spatula, then turned off the heat. Her kitchen sink butted up against an enormous window that overlooked the backyard. She peered out and smiled. Jim and the four younger boys were out back working on the old gazebo, a worn-out structure that Jim had intended to restore ever since they moved in. Finally, yesterday Jim bought the supplies he’d need—paint, roofing shingles, a few spindles, and a box of nails. The boys started work early since the day threatened to be one of the hottest of the summer.

  Jenny angled her head, studying her husband as he supervised their sons. Each one had a piece of sandpaper and was stationed at a section of the railing that made up the lower part of the gazebo.

  You’re so good at keeping Jim busy, Lord. Thank You.

  Just last night Jim had been restless again, sorting through the messages from half a dozen pro football teams looking to hire him. This time of year the routine was always the same. NFL teams in need of a new coach would sift through the list of retired or out-of-work coaches and see who was interested.

  Every year the offers were more tempting.

  “It’d be good for the boys, seeing pro football up close like that,” Jim had told her. “Every one of them is interested in football.”

  “Not Connor.”

  Jim had been quiet for a moment. “No. Not Connor.”

  “Honey—” she entered these waters carefully—“Bailey and Connor would be lost without CKT, and we both know there are only a handful of states that offer the program.”

  “I know.”

  “Connor has five more years. Then we can talk about it, all right?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “It’s just, the other boys would love it.”

  “They love what you do now.” She’d kept her tone gentle. “Have you seen them on your sidelines, Jim? Clear Creek High’s the big time, and you’re their biggest hero.”

  He smiled. “It’s not that. . . .”

  “I know.” She’d kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll be back in the NFL someday. And we’ll say good-bye to everything here in Bloomington and move ahead with full hearts.” She kissed him again. “Just not yet, okay?”

  The excitement in his eyes had dimmed a little. “Okay.”

  But when she w
oke up, Jenny had the sense that it was harder for Jim to say no to the pro teams this time. That’s why the gazebo project was a good one. She gave Jim a last look. At the same time, she heard someone enter the kitchen and turned around.

  Cody Coleman waved at her and Katy. “How are you ladies this fine morning?”

  “Running ragged.” Katy had buttered twelve pieces of toast. She didn’t look up, and her next comment was directed at Jenny. “The boys haven’t eaten yet, right?”

  “Right.” Jenny kept herself from smiling. Katy was doing a good job discouraging Cody’s recent advances. She had told Jenny privately that Cody’s flirting sometimes got on her nerves. Jenny had agreed to have Jim talk to the young man about his behavior. “So—” Jenny wiped her hands on a kitchen towel—“how’re the wedding plans coming?”

  Cody clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Here we go again.” He planted himself a few feet from Katy. “How can you marry Dayne Matthews—” he thumped his chest—“when you could have me?”

  Katy took her plate and sat several seats from Cody. “It’s hard to imagine.”

  Cody shrugged and snagged a plate. “Have it your way. I’ll be here waiting when things don’t work out.”

  Bailey darted down the stairs again, Connor close behind her. They had sleeping bags slung over their shoulders and were heaving duffel bags along in front of them. “The costume box worked!” She dumped her things at the foot of the stairs and hurried into the kitchen. “Connor’s brilliant.”

  “Yeah, only now she’ll have better stuff for the color-wars contest than me.” He made a face. “Me and my big mouth.”

  Bailey set her phone on the counter and hurried to grab a plate and some eggs. “We can’t be last; I’ll get the worst bunk.”

  Cody set his fork down. “You two make me dizzy.” He grinned at Katy. “I thought camp was supposed to be fun.”

  Jim walked through the back door, the four younger boys in tow, just in time to hear Cody’s comment. “Fun? Are you kidding?” He chuckled. “Two-a-days start next week, Coleman. Let’s see what you think about fun after that.”

  Cody exhaled hard. He looked at Connor. “About that big mouth of yours? I can relate.”

  Jenny leaned against the kitchen sink and studied her family. The boys were diving into the eggs, heaping their plates, and Bailey and Connor were deep in conversation about the games most often played at CKT’s teen camp. Jenny smiled. Her home was overflowing with conversation and kids and more love than she could’ve imagined once upon a time.

  She set her dish towel down and walked around the counter to the spot between her two oldest kids. “Toothbrushes?”

  “Check,” Bailey and Connor answered in unison.

  “Pajamas?”

  “Check.” The tone in their voices told her they were used to the last-minute list of necessary items for a trip.

  “Bibles?”

  “Definitely.” Connor raised his finger and smiled at her. “I’m winning the sword drill, hands down.”

  “He has no idea.” Bailey turned and made a face in Katy’s direction. “Newbies never win the sword drill.”

  “Sword drill?” Cody swallowed a mouthful of eggs. He raised his eyebrows, curious. “Someone wanna clue me in here? I thought it was a drama camp.”

  Jim laughed. He took his plate and sat next to his star football player. “Christian groups have these contests. See who can find a Bible verse first. As long as I can remember they’ve called it a sword drill.”

  “Oh.” Cody took a bite of toast.

  “Let’s just say it’s a good thing Dad doesn’t have sword drills for the football team.” Bailey lifted her chin and shot a haughty look at Cody. “Otherwise you’d be running lines from morning to night.”

  “Bailey.” Jenny kept her tone lighthearted, same as the mood in the kitchen. But she understood. There was a little more to Bailey’s statement than simple teasing. Ever since Cody had been paying attention to Katy, Bailey had been put out. The digs she sent Cody’s way were nearly constant. Jenny waited until she had Bailey’s attention and used her eyes to convey the deeper seriousness of her warning. “Be nice.”

  “Yeah, be nice.” Cody leaned around Jim and stuck his tongue out at Bailey. “Some of us didn’t spend our summers at church camp, okay?”

  Bailey glared at Cody and returned the gesture.

  Before Jenny could continue the checklist, Bailey’s phone sprang to life, and a song began to blare from the tinny speaker. Something about holding on to every moment. Bailey snatched her phone and hurried out of the kitchen into the dining room to answer it.

  Jenny wanted to follow her, to listen to her end of the conversation, but she resisted. Lately Bryan Smythe had been calling, showering Bailey with flowery compliments and brazen proclamations. Last night after his call, Jenny had found Bailey lying on her bed. Jim was in the living room with the boys, talking to them about fall sports and whether they wanted to play soccer or football.

  “I’m so confused.” Bailey sat up. Her shoulders sagged forward. “I’m dating Tanner, and I still like him. I’ve liked him since fourth grade. But every time we talk, I wait for him to ask me about dance or drama—something that’s interesting to me.”

  “Hmm.” Jenny didn’t want to steer her daughter in any one direction. But she needed to help her see the whole picture. “Tanner’s never seen you dance, honey. He’s never been to one of your shows.”

  “Exactly.” She exhaled hard.

  “But . . . you’ve never invited him to a performance either.” Jenny sat cross-legged on the bed and leaned her elbow on her knee. “Right?”

  “Of course not.” Bailey had looked horrified. “I’d be so embarrassed having Tanner in the audience. He’s used to seeing me in a cheerleader’s uniform, not in a costume acting onstage.”

  “Okay, so all I’m saying is you can’t judge him for not asking about dance and drama. Not when you haven’t allowed him a window into that part of your life.”

  She ran her fingers along the bedspread between them. “True.”

  “So which part’s confusing?”

  Bailey lifted her chin. “The Bryan part.”

  “Bryan Smythe from CKT?”

  “Yes.” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality. “He’s tall and dark and broad shouldered. And no one can sing like Bryan. No one.”

  “He called you again, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” She fiddled with the promise ring on her left hand, the ring Jenny and Jim had given her on her thirteenth birthday as a symbol of her determination to stay pure. “Tim Reed’s flitting around talking to every girl he comes across, but Bryan . . . Bryan’s crazy about me, Mom.”

  Jenny reminded herself not to react too strongly. She enjoyed these talks with Bailey, and she couldn’t jump to conclusions. But to Jenny something about Bryan Smythe didn’t feel genuine. “What did he say?”

  “Well, he asked me if I was still with Tanner, and I said I was. Then he told me that one day—even if he had to wait a long time—I would see the light.”

  “See the light?”

  “You know, like dump Tanner and go out with him. He said he’d be right there waiting for me, because one day—” her eyes got big—“he’s going to marry me, and then I’d belong to him forever.” She leaned in, her voice full of excitement. “Isn’t that amazing?”

  Jenny winced. She wanted to tell her daughter the entire conversation was ridiculous. Bailey and the guys she knew were too young to talk about anything so important. But if it felt real to Bailey, Jenny knew better. She had to take the discussion seriously. “Dump Tanner? I don’t know. Something about it sounds awfully callous, honey.”

  “I know.” She straightened, more serious again. “Those were his words. I’m just saying, at least he’s pursuing me. My talks with Tanner are so . . . I don’t know . . . so simple. ‘How’s baseball?’; ‘Good.’ ‘How’s your family?’; ‘Fine.’” She groaned. “Where’s his passion? It’s like he�
�s barely alive sometimes.”

  Jenny’s memory of last night’s conversation faded as Bailey returned to the kitchen. Her eyes shone brighter than before, and there was a spring in her step. She looked at Katy. “Bryan’s going to teen camp too. I guess he signed up at the last minute.”

  “Good.” Katy stood and rinsed her plate in the sink. “The more guys, the better the show.” She looked over her shoulder at Bailey and Connor. “I think it’ll be a strong cast.”

  “Great,” Connor mumbled. “Tim and Bryan in the same show? There goes my chance at a lead.”

  Katy pretended not to hear him, but Jenny stepped in. “That’s the wrong attitude, buddy.”

  Connor rebounded quickly. “I know. Sorry.” He cleared his plate, rinsed it, and stuck it in the dishwasher. His tone improved almost instantly. “You’re right. Anyone can win a part on any given day.”

  “Exactly!” Katy grabbed her suitcase and sleeping bag. “The kids and I will load the Suburban.”

  “Five minutes and I’ll be out there.” Jenny watched them grab the gear and head out to the garage.

  Cody finished at the same time and headed for his room downstairs. “Workouts at ten today, right, Coach?” he called over his shoulder.

  “Ten and two for you, Coleman. After last year, your two-a-days can start this week.”

  “Ugh.” He disappeared down the hallway toward his room.

  Jenny came up behind Jim and put her arms around his shoulders. “You doing okay?”

  He swiveled his barstool to face her. “About the coaching stuff?”

  “Yeah.” Jenny eyed the boys. They were busy at the far end of the bar, comparing notes on who’d eaten the most toast. She turned her attention back to her husband. “If it’s really on your mind, we can talk about it.”