Summer

by Karen Kingsbury

  She headed for RJ’s room, still thinking about the exchange with Brooke. She placed her hand on her stomach, where her own little girl was growing healthy and sound. She and Ryan had come up with a name, though they hadn’t told anyone yet. Anne Elizabeth—after Ryan’s mother and her own. They would call her Annie.

  Kari reached RJ’s room and swept her little boy into her arms. Ashley’s baby might end up being healthy too. The two cousins could become the best of friends, the way she and Ashley had dreamed they might be. Then the entire dialogue would wind up a waste of time. She kissed RJ’s cheek. “Hungry?”

  RJ stuck his fingers into his mouth and nodded.

  As she carried him into the kitchen, she thought about Brooke’s certainty. If the test showed anencephaly, then there was no mistake or getting around it. The possibility was a real one, of course. Either way, maybe the entire situation had come to them for one reason alone.

  So that Brooke would never again recommend an abortion for one of her patients no matter what. And so that she would come to understand the truth about life—that it was God’s to give and God’s to take.

  No matter how difficult the circumstances.

  As she drove back to her office, Brooke gave an angry swipe at her cheeks and the tears that had fallen there. No one understood her. She wasn’t advocating abortion for the sake of having a choice. She was offering the same medical advice she’d give any of her own patients. But Kari and Ashley were determined to make her the bad guy, the one Baxter sister who didn’t understand God’s plan for life or His truth.

  She grabbed a tissue from the console of her van and blew her nose. The worst part was that they were making her doubt her own advice.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she focused on the green light just ahead. Many babies with such defects would naturally abort through a miscarriage. Undergoing an abortion for severe fatal defects, then, was like taking care of a pregnancy that the body should’ve eliminated but failed to do so.

  Right? Wasn’t that what she’d always told herself?

  The light ahead of her turned red, and she slowed to a stop. God, I’m not trying to go against Your truth. Surely You know that.

  Daughter, all life is Mine. . . .

  The words rang loud and clear in her heart, in a way they rarely had before. Her sisters had talked about hearing God, and in the days after Hayley’s near drowning, Brooke had on occasion heard what she thought was the Lord’s response. But over time she’d doubted that, because lately when she prayed the conversation seemed to be one-sided.

  Still, there was no denying the words that had echoed in her heart just now. Were they Kari’s words lingering? Or was God Himself trying to speak to her? Of course life was His, and of course He was capable of miracles. Her little Hayley was living proof. But anencephaly? Babies simply didn’t get healed from that. Other situations played in her mind, times when a patient would start bleeding and be sent to the hospital for a procedure that would in effect complete the miscarriage, ridding the woman’s body of any remaining tissue from the pregnancy.

  Wasn’t that all an abortion would do at this point? Remove from Ashley the life that was already dying inside her?

  Brooke returned to work, but her heart wasn’t in it. Two of her nurses asked her if she was okay.

  “I’m fine,” she told them. “Just distracted.”

  She needed to talk to Peter. He’d been a doctor longer than she had, and in the past year or so he’d spent far more time reading the Bible each morning than she did. He could shed light on the subject, especially since they’d talked about it that night after the prayer meeting at her father’s house. Peter had been noncommittal then, but he’d promised her he would think more about it, pray about it. Maybe now he’d have an answer.

  That night after dinner, when the girls were sitting at the table in the playroom coloring in their new Easter coloring books, Brooke found Peter parked in front of the television. She came up and stood a few feet from him. “Can we talk?”

  Peter hesitated, then took the remote and flicked off the TV. “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” She sat down on the other end of the sofa, leaving enough space between them so she could read his expression. “I tried to have lunch with Kari today.”

  “Tried?” Peter shifted so he was facing her.

  Brooke launched into the story of how she’d gone to Kari’s house hoping to convince her about Ashley’s need for an abortion. “Kari talks to Ashley more than I do.” She sat cross-legged, her back to the arm of the sofa. “I figured she might have more influence.”

  Peter frowned. “What happened?”

  She told him how quickly things had escalated and how she’d left without eating. “It’s like everyone in my family has a one-track mind when it comes to abortion. Even when it’s medically the best option, like it is for Ashley.”

  Brooke expected Peter to nod in agreement and spout off a list of statistics as to why she was right. All day she’d known that if she could only have his validation, she wouldn’t have to doubt herself. But instead he rubbed the back of his neck, stood, and took slow steps toward the window. The sun had already set, but it was dusky outside, the silhouette of tree branches sharp against the not-quite-dark sky. He raised his arm and rested it on the glass.

  “Peter?” She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest.

  After several seconds, he turned, and his face showed the brokenness he must’ve been feeling inside. She’d seen him look this way only one other time. After Hayley’s accident, he’d allowed himself to get hooked on pain pills. The quick and certain addiction nearly split them apart, but at the last moment he arranged to meet her at a spot where they’d hiked over the years. There he confessed that he was sorry and that he wanted to work on their marriage. His expression then was the same as it was now—all confidence and self-assuredness gone.

  Peter shrugged, and it was clear that his answers were still taking shape. “I’ve thought about this every day since that night at your dad’s house.” He leaned on the windowsill and rubbed his neck again. “I’ve always seen things the way you’re seeing them. That sometimes abortion is the most necessary and smartest choice to make.”

  “That’s changed?” Alarm filled her heart.

  “Maybe.” He sighed. “I’ve recommended abortion several times. This week I thought about those cases and whether the abortion actually served its purpose to help the mother.” He gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m not sure it ever really did. I’m not sure they had closure.”

  Closure? Brooke’s head was spinning. She eased her legs over the side of the couch, her eyes locked onto her husband’s.

  “But more than that, there’s the Bible.” Peter walked back to her and sat on the edge of the sofa. “Life is a blessing and a gift from the Lord. Not once does Scripture show an example of eliminating a life out of convenience or for medical reasons.” He took hold of her hand, his voice tender. “I’ve looked, Brooke.”

  She thought about that, and inside she felt her convictions begin to crumble. But at the same time she realized something. If she were to allow Peter and Kari and Ashley to change her mind now, then what did that say about the abortions she’d already recommended, the ones that had already taken place? She shuddered at the ramifications, and her resolve doubled.

  Her eyes held his, and she hoped her smile was enough to hide her fear. “We might have to agree to disagree about this one.” It was what they’d been told when they’d gone for counseling after Peter’s treatment for the pain medication addiction. Sometimes in a marriage it was better to agree to disagree on the things that didn’t matter specifically to the marriage. This was one of those things. At least it seemed that way at the moment.

  Peter gave her hand a soft squeeze. “God speaks to us all at different times, in different ways. I’m only telling you how He’s been speaking to me.”

  The alarm in Brooke’s heart returned with a vengeance. God had been speaking to Pe
ter? The way He’d spoken to her in the van on the way back to the office earlier today? She brushed her hair away from her face and stood. “Okay, well . . . thanks for understanding. I’ll go check on the girls.”

  She was glad Peter didn’t chide her or ridicule her, glad he didn’t ask her to change her way of thinking. She’d spent years in med school, years developing the standards by which she practiced medicine, the advice she gave her patients. The things Peter had decided were good for him didn’t always apply to her. He must’ve thought the same thing, because he didn’t try to change her mind, didn’t condemn her.

  Before she left the room, a realization struck. Their differences in the area of medical abortions must’ve been harder on Peter than she first thought. Because as she left the room, she looked back at him one more time. He wasn’t reaching for the remote or getting comfortable on the sofa again.

  His eyes were closed, his head bowed in silent, unmistakable prayer.

  Luke was still thinking about the office and several complications with a handful of Dayne’s contracts when he walked through the door of the rental house they were living in for a few more months until their new home was ready. The moment he stepped inside, he tripped on a toy truck. He bit his lip and stopped just inside the entryway. Plastic dinosaurs were lined up along the hallway with an occasional toy Jeep or race car.

  In a room at the other end of the house, he could hear Malin crying. She had another ear infection, and Reagan seemed overwhelmed most of the time. He gave the toy truck a light kick and dodged the dinosaurs on his way into the living room. There was a load of unfolded laundry on one chair and a dirty plate on the arm of the sofa. The place was a mess. Again.

  “Reagan?” He could hear the frustration in his voice as he set down his briefcase. It wasn’t like she had a job outside the home. She only needed to deal with the kids and keep the house clean. He stretched his neck one way and then the other. Calm, he told himself. A sick kid makes for a tough day. Especially with Malin, who cried more than any baby he’d ever known.

  “Back here.” Reagan’s voice rose above the sound of the crying.

  At that moment, Tommy came running from the back hallway, a T. rex in his hands. “Rooooaaaar!” he growled and raised the dinosaur toward Luke. “I’m a T. rex, Daddy!”

  “Yes.” Luke bent down and kissed the boy on his head. There was a bandage on his pointer finger. Luke caught his hand and studied it. “What happened here?”

  “Malin’s door got me.”

  Luke straightened. “Oh, boy,” he muttered. “Come on—let’s go find Mommy.” He took hold of Tommy’s good hand, and the two padded down the hallway to Malin’s room.

  Reagan was sitting in the rocking chair, patting their daughter on the back. “She’s got a fever.”

  Luke leaned against the doorframe. “What did the doctor say?”

  “He gave us more antibiotics and told me to take her to a specialist. She probably needs tubes in her ears.”

  “They’ve said that before.” Luke felt worn-out. He’d battled with studio executives and flawed contracts all day, and every hour he’d looked forward to this moment. Now he almost wished he’d stayed late at the office.

  “They’re serious this time.” Reagan whispered a hushing sound into Malin’s ears, but the child was still whimpering. “This is her third ear infection this year.”

  “It feels like the tenth.” He gave her a weak smile.

  “Tell me about it.” She set the rocker in motion again. “It’s not her fault, though.”

  “And Tommy?”

  The boy was on the floor now, moving the dinosaur through the plush carpet, making growling sounds.

  “Well, this morning when I was putting drops in Malin’s ears, he got into the freezer and pulled out a box of frozen sausage. The cooked kind, thankfully. He was on his sixth sausage by the time I found him.”

  “He ate frozen sausage?” Luke looked down at his son.

  Tommy cast him an impish grin. “I like sausage.”

  Reagan raised her brow. “Yes, and then he found the crayons in the kitchen drawer and drew a large, expressive picture of a T. rex on his bedroom wall.”

  “I’m a painter.” Tommy was still on his hands and knees, and he turned in a tight circle, the dinosaur sounds louder than before. “T. rex looks very mean.”

  Luke felt his frustration rising. The house wasn’t theirs. Whatever damage they did would be deducted from their deposit. “Did you punish him?”

  “Sure; I gave him a time-out.” She leaned her head back against the chair. “But before his time was up, he went to Malin’s room and started playing with her door.”

  “Where were you?”

  For the first time, Reagan’s expression grew angry. “Doing my nails, Luke.” She sighed. “What do you think? I was making lunch. I can’t follow him around every minute of the day.”

  “So he slammed his finger?”

  “Of course, it’s not enough for him to open and shut the door like a regular person.” Reagan gave their son a stern look. “He had to hold it with both hands spread wide apart.”

  “’Cause I’m a dinosaur, Daddy.” Tommy looked as innocent as an angel.

  “Yes, and then our little dinosaur pinched his finger near the hinge so hard I thought we were going to need a trip to the emergency room.”

  Luke knelt next to Tommy. He took hold of the boy’s hand but kept his eyes on Reagan’s. “Was it bad?”

  “It split the skin on either side of his fingernail. It bled a lot, but I don’t think it’ll need stitches.”

  “Band-Aids are good dinosaur claws!” Tommy waved his bandaged finger around and made another roaring sound.

  Malin’s crying grew loud again, and Reagan raised her voice so she could be heard. “On that note, how was your day?”

  Every phone call and legal document he’d taken care of today came to mind, and he opened his mouth to share some of it. But at the same time, he thought about the day Reagan had just painted and started to chuckle. He rose and took slow steps toward his wife. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Reagan looked slightly confused by his laughter. “It does.” Her voice was softer than before, barely understandable against the backdrop of a wailing Malin. “Just because my day was crazy doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about yours.”

  “Let’s just say this.” He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “It was a whole lot easier than yours.”

  He took Malin from her and rocked his daughter until she calmed down. By then Reagan had made Tommy clean up his mess, and she had ground beef cooking on the stove. Sanity of the bedtime hours was within reach, and even over dinner Tommy was quiet enough that they were able to talk.

  “I’ve been thinking about Ashley.” Reagan’s concern showed in her eyes. “We’re supposed to pray for a miracle. But what if God doesn’t want a miracle for this baby?”

  “All babies are a miracle.” It was something Luke’s father had said over the years, and the words came easily off his tongue. “No matter what condition they come in.”

  Reagan thought about that. “I guess so.”

  “But I know what you mean.” Luke put his fork down. “I’ve been thinking about her too. She’s been quiet.”

  “She has. I talked to Kari this morning. She says no one’s seen Ashley since the meeting at your dad’s house.”

  Luke’s heart ached at the thought. “I need to call her.”

  “Kari says that Brooke’s sure about the test. If the ultrasound showed that kind of birth defect, then Ashley’s baby has it. No doubt.”

  Luke remembered something his mother had said back when he was sure he would never find Reagan again, never make things work with her. “God loves to spoil the understanding of mere mortals.” He smiled and reached for his fork. “God has a plan for this child, same as any other. That’s the part I’m going to hang on to.”

  The conversation shifted, and after dinner the nighttime routine began. There were bath
s for both kids, with Reagan taking special care to make sure no water got into Malin’s ears.

  Tommy took his T. rex into the tub with him, and Luke sat on the edge holding the dinosaur. As he did, he silently thanked God for the chaos of his home and the life that they were living. Malin might need tubes in her ears, but overall his family was healthy and happy. He couldn’t imagine what Ashley must be feeling and how she would handle the coming months if indeed her baby lived only a few days. He would call her tomorrow to encourage her.

  As for his reaction when he came home from work, he was sorry and told Reagan so when they finally fell into bed that night. He had no right to be angry or frustrated with the bedlam that sometimes marked his home. This was the life of having young children. Someday they would look back and smile at this time, wondering at how fast the years had disappeared and wishing for the sound of a crying child or the parade of dinosaurs across the kitchen floor.

  And the growl of a blond, blue-eyed T. rex who would only be little for so long.

  It was Saturday, the middle of April, and the warm weather had given way to a few days of thunderstorms. John didn’t mind. He loved Indiana’s thunder and lightning, as long as the storms didn’t spin off tornadoes. And there were none in the forecast.

  Now it was late afternoon, and the sun was out again. He and Elaine were walking on the path that wound around the downtown park, the place where their friendship had first taken root. He preferred the park to the path behind his house. Especially now that things were moving forward with Elaine. Since he’d made his feelings known, it didn’t feel right walking with her on the same path he’d once walked with Elizabeth.

  The conversation today was about Ashley, a subject they’d tried to avoid in the past week. Every time it came up, one of them would respond in the same way. There was nothing to talk about, no sick baby to cause worry. Never mind the medical statistics. God was in control. Ashley had asked them to pray for a miracle, to believe that the test was wrong or that her baby would be healed. It seemed wrong to do anything else.