Forever

by Karen Kingsbury

  I love you.

  Dad

  Again Reagan was touched. The man was so open, so involved in his kids’ lives. Her mother was involved that same way. She gave advice like she’d done a few weeks ago—reminding Reagan to look for ways to encourage Luke. But she kept her distance much of the time, so Reagan had assumed, as Luke had, that she was disappointed in the time it was taking them to find their own place.

  Most of the time the fact that Reagan’s mom kept her distance was probably a good thing, especially since they all lived together. She and her mom were close, and her mother was always quick to help with the kids. If she gave advice only once in a while, then that was okay.

  Reagan lowered the first page to her lap and opened the second. It was a copy of something Elizabeth had written. At the top it said Ten Secrets to a Happy Marriage—from Mom.

  Her eyes clouded with tears. Reading the words made her long for her father. Between her parents, he had been the more emotional one, the one she could go to when a boy broke her heart or when she had a misunderstanding with a friend. But he hadn’t been a writer. He had left behind no priceless treasures like the one she was holding.

  She read the list slowly.

  1. God has you here to serve one another. Love acted out is serving.

  2. Women need respect and nurturing. Love your wife so she knows you’d lay your life down for her. Continue to date her and admire her. Share a hobby—find something you can do to have fun together.

  3. Laugh often.

  Reagan stopped there and wiped her eyes. If she was keeping score, Luke would be batting zero. He rarely helped with the kids, and they hadn’t gone on a date since before he started studying for the bar. Months ago. There was nothing funny anymore, and the only thing they did together was make the bed each morning. If Elizabeth was right—and clearly she was—no wonder their marriage was in trouble.

  She dabbed at her eyes again and kept reading.

  4. Be patient. Love crumbles quickly under the weight of unmet expectations.

  Reagan stared at the line. Conviction poked pins at her conscience. Okay, so maybe she had to take some of the responsibility.

  5. Spend more time trying to fix yourself than your spouse.

  6. Keep short accounts. The Bible says, “Do not let the sun go down while you are angry.” Make it a habit to forgive.

  7. Determine up front that divorce is not an option.

  8. Learn about love languages. Not all people show love or receive it the same way. You want a back rub and your spouse wants a clean kitchen. The love languages are fairly simple: acts of service, time, physical touch, gifts, and words of affirmation. Learn them. Love is better received when it’s in the language that person speaks.

  9. Words of affirmation are a love language for all men.

  10. Men are born to be leaders. He cannot lead unless she gives him the confidence to do so. If you love your husband, build him up. Confident men do not seek love outside the home.

  Reagan reread the list. Tears streamed down her face as remorse settled like a heavy blanket around her. Those last two were the exact things her own mom had been telling her. But she’d ignored her advice completely. Now, though, Reagan was seeing the suggestions in a new light.

  Sure, she’d been thinking herself a terrible wife. But not really, not in the way of changing. More because it made her a victim, a martyr.

  No matter how hard her mother had tried to convince her of the same thing, not until she read Elizabeth’s words did she realize all the ways she truly had let Luke down. In her mind, she didn’t need fixing. Luke had the bad attitude. Luke was the one who had changed.

  She moved the paper back toward her knees so her tears wouldn’t get it wet. She’d kept long accounts, if she was honest with herself, and when they talked about a separation, she could almost see herself divorced and moving on to someone better, someone kinder with a gentler attitude. And love languages? Reagan had never even considered such a thing.

  The tears slowed, and she dried her cheeks. What was her love language? Not gifts. She didn’t care about material things. Sentimental things, yes. But not enough to consider that her way of loving. She read through the list again. If she had to pick one, it would be physical touch. She loved holding hands with Luke and cuddling with him, feeling close to him. It was what had led to their rocky beginning in the first place. And next would be time—having Luke beside her when it came to working with the kids or taking a walk and having him listen to her. Knowing he was there for her.

  But according to Elizabeth, it was more important to know Luke’s love language. If his mother was right, then Reagan had never made a conscious effort to love Luke the way he was made to be loved. Words of affirmation? The exact thing her mother had told her weeks ago. She handled things the opposite way, asking questions much of the time. She could hear herself. “Why are you late? When are they going to give you a raise? Why can’t you help more?”

  Another layer of tears covered her eyes. Statements like that would only serve to bring a guy down. But why hadn’t she listened to her mother? Why had it taken until now to click in her heart?

  Reagan blinked, clearing her eyes so she could see through her tears. What else for Luke? The answer came to her almost immediately. Acts of service, of course. Luke loved it when she ironed his shirts or typed a brief for him when he had to bring his work home.

  Something else came to mind. Just last week Reagan had snapped at him for being distant and insensitive. Her mother was out, and Reagan’s day had been rougher than usual. There was no dinner ready when he came home. He didn’t get mad, but after he changed clothes he spent the next hour making chicken and rice and then cleaning it up. He went so far as to take apart the stove-top burners and wash each individual part.

  By then she had the kids in bed. She found him in the kitchen and stared at him. “Thanks a lot.”

  Luke turned, his expression baffled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She scowled at him. “It means I’ve spent the whole night with the kids, same as I spent most of the day with them. And where are you?” She motioned to the kitchen. “In here by yourself.”

  Her heart sank at the memory. If Luke enjoyed being served, then cleaning the kitchen might’ve been his way of loving her. Maybe they were falling apart because they were speaking to each other in foreign languages.

  But it was the last one on Elizabeth’s list that made her throat thick with sorrow. Luke had been scrambling toward solid footing since they got back together. He was the guy who had gotten her pregnant, the one who had bolted into the arms of another woman after her greatest loss. Much of that had been her fault, of course. He’d tried to call, but she wouldn’t answer, too panicked over the loss of her father and the realization that she was pregnant.

  Still, she had found no reason to compliment him back then. Rather she’d been more reluctant. Sure, okay . . . we can give it a try. That sort of thing. And after they were married, he was automatically behind a lap in the race of life. A full-time student, married with a baby, and living with his wife’s mother. How often had she asked him when he would graduate or how long before he could take the bar or when he’d become a full-fledged attorney? He kept running and trying, but he couldn’t catch up to save his life. Not by her standards. That was something else. She let Luke blame her mother for thinking he wasn’t living up to their expectations. But really they’d been Reagan’s expectations all along. What had her expectations and criticisms done to Luke?

  She placed the pages one on top of the other, the way they’d been in the envelope. Then she set them down on the table beside her and drew her knees close to her chest. Marriage was so hard, so much work. Lately she didn’t even like Luke. So putting Elizabeth’s secrets into practice would be tougher than if she’d known about them from the beginning.

  But she loved Luke, and she believed that God had a plan for them, plans for a beautiful marriage and a wonderful life in which every day
was better than the last. Change could come only if she acted out of love for Christ, believing that in the process He would give her the marriage she dreamed about.

  She took a mental inventory of the life they’d been living and the pressures Luke had been under. All without any real encouragement from her. No wonder he was frustrated about the discovery that Dayne was his brother. He had worked hard for the past few years with only a rare bit of approval from Reagan. And now here came news that his biological brother was a multimillionaire movie star.

  A memory ran through her mind. She and Luke visiting her father at the top of the World Trade Center that long-ago day. Luke had been so sure they’d do everything right, so confident. He wanted to have an office just like her father’s someday, he told her. Maybe right next door.

  Oh, Luke . . . you had such high aspirations, such a positive outlook for the future. What happened to you?

  And like that, the answer was clear. Sin happened to him. Not just to him but to both of them. They had gone against God’s plan, and at least some of what they were dealing with was a result of their poor actions. That could be why she struggled with giving him praise. Secretly she might still be blaming him for derailing her plans—plans to finish college as an all-star athlete. Plans to date and travel and get married later when the timing was right.

  Reagan sniffed and stood, carrying the letter back to the kitchen. They would live a lifetime with the consequences of their choices. But God had a better future for them than the one they were living. She surveyed the situation. It was three o’clock, and the kids were still sleeping. Luke wouldn’t be home for two hours. That meant there was time to take action now. Today.

  Before the weight of her unmet expectations caused love to crumble completely.

  Luke couldn’t concentrate.

  He was still getting flak from the guys in the office about his newfound fame. Admiring women from other floors of the office had heard that he was Dayne’s brother, and two of them had sent interoffice mail his way asking if he was interested. Word got around, and the guys couldn’t resist poking fun at him.

  “Can I have your autograph, Dayne . . . er, I mean, Luke?” Then they’d burst into laughter as if the whole situation was beyond funny.

  Luke’s boss, Joe Morris, was the only one not laughing. The moment he saw the story, he called Luke into his office and smacked the magazine down on the desk between them. “What’s this?”

  Luke had to think quickly. He tried for a casual tone. “The guy chased me down.” He leaned back and shrugged. “Blew the whole thing out of proportion.”

  “So what’s it mean, your comment?” Joe wasn’t angry, but he was on the verge. “I don’t care if Dayne’s your brother. He’s one of this firm’s top clients.”

  “Obviously I realize that.” Luke tried a lighthearted laugh, but it fell flat. “What I meant was I can’t give any information about Dayne. He didn’t grow up with the rest of us, you know?”

  The lines around Joe’s eyes eased some. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “That part about being a Baxter—” he gestured toward the magazine—“only means that finding a brother this late in life doesn’t give you a whole lot in common.”

  Joe nodded thoughtfully. Then he took the magazine and shoved it in a file. “Let’s just be a little more careful what we say to the press from now on.”

  That was four days ago. Things were fine with Joe, but the incident clearly wasn’t going away and neither was the dilemma Luke faced with his family. In the past week Luke had seen the same photographer again, and this time he handled it better. If the guy wanted his picture, fine. He could take it. He would take it anyway. Luke put up nothing to block the way and didn’t turn toward the sounds of questions and a clicking lens. Instead he ignored the man and kept walking, staring straight ahead. The photographer wouldn’t catch Luke Baxter making a fool of himself again; that much was certain.

  Luke studied the file on his desk. It was a corporate takeover case, and he was supposed to find a truckload of varying precedents for the petitioner, who was a big client. He was working with the client’s corporate lawyer, but progress was tediously slow.

  His call to Reagan earlier hadn’t lightened his mood any. Seemed like all the kids did lately was scream and cry. And Reagan wasn’t much better. He pushed his chair back from his desk. Maybe if he got a coffee he’d have a better chance of getting through the afternoon. He was about to stand up when Joe opened his door and stepped inside.

  “Luke—” his boss was smiling—“we need to talk.”

  “All right.” Luke sat back and gestured to the chair across from him. The man didn’t look nearly so ominous when he was in a good mood.

  Joe ignored the offer of a chair. He came closer and leaned his free hand on the desk. With the other, he held up an envelope. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

  Luke blinked. He had absolutely no idea what Joe was talking about or what could make him look so pleased. He waited for him to continue.

  “So I’m sitting in my office yesterday wondering how we can take on the ten clients knocking on the door without hiring another attorney, and I get a call.” Joe chuckled. “Guess who it is?”

  The question made him lower his brow. “No idea.”

  “Dayne Matthews’ agent! The guy tells me I’ll be getting an overnight package from him, so keep an eye out for it.”

  Luke had no idea how the story might involve him. He crossed his arms and tried to look appropriately interested.

  “Anyway, it gets delivered to my office a few minutes ago, and I open it. Inside’s this letter.” He waved it at Luke. “It’s a written request made by Dayne before his accident. You ready for this?”

  “Uh, I think so.” Luke gulped. Back then Dayne couldn’t possibly have thought Luke felt any ill will toward him.

  “Okay, listen.” He searched Luke’s face. “Once you pass the bar, he wants you to consider moving to our Indianapolis office and working exclusively on his contracts and holdings.” He straightened and slapped the letter on Luke’s desk. “It’s all in here. He wants the firm backing you, but he wants exclusive access to your services.” He chuckled again. “And get this. He wants your salary at about twice where we would’ve started you. He’ll pay it.” He let his arms hang at his sides in a way that said he was too shocked to say anything else.

  Luke’s world tilted hard and began spinning out of control. He must be daydreaming, right? The Friday afternoon doldrums had finally gotten to him. Joe Morris couldn’t possibly have just said that. Luke squinted at his boss. “He wants me to think about transferring to Indiana?”

  “Exactly. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying for the last year? That you’d like to get back there?”

  “Yes, I . . .” Luke rubbed the back of his neck and tried to find a modicum of clarity. Dayne wanted to increase the rate he paid the firm so that Luke would net twice the standard starting salary? He searched Joe’s eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course.” Joe’s laugh came easily. He took a step back and propped himself up against the wall. “We’ll miss you around here, but it allows us to keep a top client happy and justify hiring two attorneys full-time to help with the workload around here.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Everyone wins.”

  Joe picked up the letter. “I’ll make a copy for your file. It’s legal verbiage, something his agent drafted.” He took a few steps back toward the door and paused. “Now that Dayne’s out of the coma and making a recovery, I’ll need you to let me know as soon as possible. Dayne’s willing to start paying your salary November 1, which means you could wrap things up here in the next few weeks and spend November with your family—waiting for results on the bar exam.”

  Spend November in Bloomington with his family? Leave the city and have the salary to buy a house less than an hour from his dad and sisters? The news was beyond anything Luke could’ve imagined.

  Joe moved toward the door. “Hey, Baxter . . .
”

  “Yes, sir?”

  He grinned at Luke over his shoulder. “Good thing you didn’t mean those things in the tabloids. Sounds like Dayne’s taking the whole brother thing pretty seriously.”

  The words hit Luke like a machete. Joe closed the door behind him, and Luke sat back in his chair, dazed. What about the tabloids? Dayne was awake, so he was bound to see them. Luke hadn’t talked to Ashley or his dad about Dayne’s progress. For all he knew the offer was already pulled off the table.

  But even if it was, that wasn’t the point. Here was Dayne, reaching out to him the only way he knew how—by offering him his dream job on a platter. Dayne, who hadn’t lived a Christian life until lately, had shown himself to be the better man by far.

  Luke considered the spread in the tabloids. What had made him so mean, so ready to lash out? Dayne had done nothing to earn his spite and venom. Shame filled him, suffocated him. He’d been raised to believe that love was always the answer, that the people sitting around the dining room table would always be his closest friends. How could he have behaved so badly?

  Ten minutes passed while he beat himself up, blow after blow after well-deserved blow. Then, like the crack of dawn, gradually he began to see things differently. No one had called to tell him Dayne’s offer had been pulled. So maybe he hadn’t seen the magazines, or maybe someone had explained them to him in a way that didn’t upset him. Either way, it might not be too late. He could call Dayne and apologize about the tabloids, try to make him understand that it wasn’t anything personal. And they could talk about Dayne’s offer.

  He called the hospital on his way home, but a nurse informed him that Dayne had requested no phone calls while he was in rehab. She took a message and promised to get it to him.

  Luke snapped his phone shut, disappointed. He would fly to LA if it meant clearing things up with Dayne. He’d acted horribly, and the strange bitterness and jealousy he’d been feeling weren’t Dayne’s fault.

  Luke was still sorting through the possible scenarios when he walked through the door of his apartment that evening. “Reagan, I’m—”