Summer

by Karen Kingsbury

  Cody seemed more in control now. As the group moved toward the front door, he put his arm around Bailey’s dad’s shoulders. “Thanks for everything.” He stopped and looked her dad in the eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’ll do the same thing someday for someone the Lord puts in your life.” Her dad patted his shoulder. “Now go get the job done.”

  The last thing Cody did before he walked through the door was come to Bailey. He hugged her once more, and this time he almost seemed to cling to her. The feelings his embrace released in her were more than she could understand, more than she could describe.

  He took a step back and locked eyes with her. “Bye, Bailey. . . .”

  “Bye.” She held up her hand and watched as he grabbed his things and hurried down the walkway to the waiting car. Two guys sat in the front, and the driver popped the trunk and motioned for Cody to toss his bag in. Cody did, then climbed into the backseat. He gave one last look in the Flanigans’ direction, one final wave. And in that moment, as his eyes locked onto Bailey’s one last time, and as the car he was riding in pulled down her driveway, turned right, and disappeared up over the hill, Bailey understood the strange and overwhelming feeling.

  Her heart was breaking because Cody Coleman was gone, and nothing between them would ever be the same again.

  Cody watched the Flanigan house until he couldn’t see it anymore.

  “You okay, Coleman?” The guy driving let out a loud chuckle. “Old Buck here had a meltdown when he said good-bye.”

  Cody wasn’t about to admit to anything. He yawned. “I’m fine. Hey, guys, I’m getting some shut-eye before we hit the airport.”

  “Okay.” The driver chuckled again. “We’ll leave you alone.”

  He wanted to tell the guy to quit being a jerk, but he couldn’t. The three of them would be together on the plane ride and all through boot camp out in Washington State, where they’d been assigned. He might as well try to get along with them.

  Besides, the guy probably figured that Cody wasn’t really tired. He needed an excuse to close his eyes so the others wouldn’t see his tears. The Flanigans were the first family he’d ever really had, so maybe he shouldn’t have enlisted. Maybe he should’ve taken Jim’s advice and gone to community college. He could’ve played another couple years of football and stayed with them.

  For a minute Cody thought about telling the driver to turn the car around and let him off. He didn’t want a stint in the army or boot camp or anything that would take him away from the love he’d found here.

  He took a long breath and held it. What was he thinking? He’d gone round and round with himself, and he always came back to the same thing. He’d made a mess of himself in high school, drinking all the time and using one girl after another. This was his chance to become a man, to do something worthwhile and earn a college education in the process. He loved being an American, and fighting for his country seemed like the right thing to do. Even if it practically killed him to leave.

  Besides, if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t the whole Flanigan family that was hardest to walk away from.

  It was Bailey.

  Cody hated lying to her, but he could feel her falling for him, and the last thing he’d wanted in the days before he left was for her to see the truth. That he’d fallen for her first. He thought about her constantly, dreaming of what life might be like if he were one of the good guys, a Tim Reed or one of the guys at CKT who never struggled with drinking or sex or anything more than getting a passing grade in chemistry.

  That was the sort of guy Bailey deserved, and he had no doubts that one day that was the sort of guy she’d fall in love with. Her feelings for him weren’t love—they were a crush. A crush that had come from laughing together and talking late into the night. Bailey was good for him; he’d figured that out early on after his brush with death. But he wasn’t good for her—him with his ugly past and laundry list of troubles.

  Once in a while he would catch a look from Jenny or Jim, and he could almost read their minds. Be our daughter’s friend, they seemed to tell him, but don’t ever let it become something more. They’d brought him in as a project—not as a young man suitable for dating their daughter. Cody exhaled hard and squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. But all he could see was Bailey. In the last ten days, things had been especially difficult. He’d convinced her that his feelings for her were only those of a brother, a friend. Nothing more. And he applauded himself on the effort. But the lie had done nothing to change his feelings. If anything, they’d gotten stronger as his last day drew near.

  Now and then he’d even find himself daydreaming about the future, how he would put in a few years with the army and maybe become an officer. He’d make something of himself and then come back and tell Bailey how he felt. How he’d felt since that first night when she cried on his shoulder about her troubles with Bryan Smythe.

  In his imagination, Bailey would feel the same way, and they’d get married and raise a family like hers, full of kids and love and laughter.

  Right now though, with boot camp starting on Monday and every mile taking him farther from the Flanigans, his dreams didn’t feel romantic or inspiring or even the least bit like they might come true. They felt impossible.

  But impossible or not, if God would let him hold on to one thought in the months ahead, one that that would push him to stay safe and do his best, it would be this:

  The way he felt with Bailey Flanigan in his arms.

  It wouldn’t be long now. Landon was aware of that fact more with every passing hour. It was the fourth Sunday in July, and Ashley preferred to stay close to home. Tonight the dinner dishes had been cleaned up for an hour, and country music played softly in the background.

  Once in a while they watched a movie together, but mostly Ashley wanted to play Yahtzee or Scrabble or checkers. She could beat Landon pretty handily, but Cole almost always gave her a fight.

  Tonight it was Pictionary, and they all sat around the kitchen table watching Cole. He was lost in concentration, his tongue curled up around his lip as he tried to draw for them. It wasn’t a conventional game in the sense that Devin didn’t really count and they needed four people to have two teams. They were playing their own version where if the person drawing could get someone to guess his picture before the sand in the minute-long timer ran out, then both the drawer and the correct guesser would move ahead three spaces. If not, no one moved until the next round.

  “Come on.” Cole turned his pencil upside down and tapped the eraser on his picture. “Don’t you see it, guys? It’s right there.”

  The picture was of two soft-looking, roundish objects with spots on them.

  “Potatoes!” Ashley jumped in her seat, clearly certain she had the right answer.

  Cole smacked his forehead. “Ugh!”

  “Not potatoes?” Ashley sat back in her seat, perplexed. “Swiss cheese?”

  “Come on, Mom. That’s the best you can do?”

  “At least she’s guessing.” Landon rested his forearms on the table and studied the drawing. “I don’t know . . . planets?”

  The sand ran out, and Cole gave the picture a few quick taps with his pencil. “High-heeled shoes. They’re right there, plain as sight.”

  Cole was learning about clichés and metaphors. But often he didn’t get them right. Landon didn’t bother to correct him. Plain as sight worked maybe even better than plain as day, anyway.

  Devin toddled around the table, his pacifier in his mouth. He looked sleepy, and when he grew bored of the action in the game, he sat down a few feet away, where Ashley had spread a bin of Mega Bloks for him.

  The game continued until eight o’clock. At that point they declared Ashley the winner, and they packed the game back into the box.

  “Let’s read down here tonight.” Ashley stood and stretched. Her face looked thin, but her stomach was bigger than Landon could remember it being with either of the boys. She waddled over to the sofa and dropped t
o the middle seat. “Get Horton Hears a Who! okay, Landon?”

  They kept a bookcase of their favorite stories downstairs for moments like this. Landon found the book and handed it to her. He stood behind her and massaged her shoulders. “Want a cup of tea?”

  “Mmmm. That’d be perfect.”

  Landon enjoyed waiting on her. She didn’t ask for much, and she never complained. But he knew she was suffering inside. However great the loss of little Sarah was, Ashley would feel it more than any of them because she was closest to their baby, feeling her every move and kick and sleep cycle.

  He made her a cup of chamomile tea and brought it to her, setting it carefully near the middle of the coffee table so Devin couldn’t reach it. The boys were already cuddled next to her, one on each side. He took the spot next to Cole and nodded to Ashley.

  “Horton Hears a Who!” She smiled at the boys. “‘On the fifteenth of May, in the Jungle of Nool, in the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool . . .’”

  Landon could recite the book by heart. Ashley had read it to Cole a hundred times when he was younger. But then the book got put away for a few years. Only in the past weeks had Landon found it up in Cole’s room, dusted it off, and brought it downstairs, where they’d read it more often.

  Ashley went on about Horton hearing a noise and the noise coming from a dust speck and how Horton was the only one who heard anything at all.

  “The people were too small to see, right?” Cole liked to ask questions.

  “Yes, Cole. That’s right.” She put her arm around him and kept reading.

  Landon watched, amazed. Before this pregnancy, Ashley would sometimes get the slightest bit frustrated with Cole’s interruptions. But now her patience seemed limitless, and Landon wondered if that was because of little Sarah. Every day felt more precious because of her.

  Conflict entered the story when the Wickersham Brothers made a pact to get the dust speck and destroy it. But Horton remained faithful, determined to save the Whos and reiterating to anyone who would listen that a person was indeed a person, no matter how small.

  Devin plucked his pacifier from his mouth and pointed at the picture of the Whos. “Baby!”

  He was talking a little more each day, and now his exclamation was more fitting than he could’ve possibly known.

  Cole leaned around Ashley and patted Devin’s hand. “That’s right, Devin. The Whos are like babies. Too small to see, but they’re still people. Just like you and me.”

  Ashley exchanged a look with Landon, one that seemed to express her gratitude for Cole, whose compassionate heart was a reflection of the best in both of them. She took a breath and finished the story. After she closed the book, none of them got up.

  Cole put his fingers on Ashley’s abdomen and patted it. He leaned close. “Hi, baby Sarah. Whatcha doing in there?”

  Ashley hadn’t said much about the baby moving that evening.

  Landon put his hand on her shoulder. “Is she awake?”

  “A little.” Ashley put her hands on either side of her swollen stomach, and after a few seconds she smiled. “I felt something. Maybe she heard Cole’s voice.”

  “Little Sarah, did you like the story about Horton?” Cole used his best singsong tone, talking to her the way he’d talked to Devin when they first brought him home from the hospital.

  Landon tried not to think about the obvious. That the conversations between Cole and this special daughter would for the most part be limited to whatever happened in moments like this.

  “Know what I think, Sarah?” Cole laid his hand flat over Ashley’s stomach. “I think you’re like the Whos, and maybe, if we keep you very, very safe, you’ll live a really long time. Like me.”

  Ashley was still smiling, but her eyes were wet.

  Cole sat up a little, still watching Ashley’s stomach, waiting for a response.

  Then, as if the baby was listening to every word and anxious for more, Ashley’s belly shifted.

  Cole gasped. “She’s snuggling against me, Mom!” His eyes were full of shock and wonder. He moved close again. “Hi, baby Sarah. I’m your big brother Cole. I love you, baby.”

  Devin watched, curious. He had his pacifier back in his mouth and was happy simply to cuddle up against Ashley.

  Landon put his hand alongside Cole’s. It was just like Cole said. Little Sarah was pressing against their hands, as if she was trying to get closer to wherever the voices were coming from.

  After a while, she stopped moving, and Cole turned to Landon. “Is it too late for God to fix her?”

  “No.” Landon’s tone was tentative. Cole asked these sorts of questions often, and Landon had done nothing to discourage him. Children processed tough situations differently than adults. If Cole was curious, they would give him the freedom to say what was on his mind.

  “Really? So it’s not too late?” Cole’s eyes lit up.

  Landon tried to think of the right way to expand on his answer. “It’s not too late, but right now it seems like that isn’t God’s plan for Sarah. Maybe He wants her to live in heaven instead. The way we talked about at the lake that day.”

  “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped a little, but there were no tears. “I guess.”

  Devin’s eyelids were getting heavy, and Landon could sense that Ashley was tired too. “Okay, boys. Time to brush your teeth.”

  Cole stood and wrapped his arms around Ashley’s neck. “Night, Mom.”

  “Night, Coley.” She kissed him and he did the same to her.

  Then he stooped down and kissed her belly. “Night, Sarah.” He patted her. “Sleep good.”

  Landon lifted Devin into his arms, and with Cole at his side, they headed upstairs. When teeth were brushed and flossed and prayers were said, Landon hit the lights in both rooms and came back downstairs. He found Ashley still sitting where she’d been earlier, only now she was sipping her tea.

  “It’s good, honey.” She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “Did you hear from Kari?” Landon took his spot beside her. “Last I heard she was having contractions.”

  “That was this morning. I need to call her before I go to bed. Kari always has long labors, but you never know.”

  Landon loved this, the intimacy of being close to Ashley without anything but the thoughts in their hearts to keep them busy. “How are you?”

  “Good.” She met his eyes. “Sad.”

  “Hmmm.” He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers.

  “We only have a little more than two weeks left.” Ashley sighed. “I keep wishing I could stay pregnant forever, that Sarah might never have to come out. She’s fine as long as she’s inside me.”

  They hadn’t yet talked about a funeral or burial. Neither of them could bring themselves to broach the subject. But Landon had a plan—in case Ashley was too overwhelmed to help him come up with one after Sarah was born. There were several open plots in the cemetery near where Elizabeth Baxter was buried. A number of them belonged to John, so Landon was sure he could purchase one for Sarah. Maybe one near the end of the row by the trees that ran along the edge of the cemetery.

  Landon shivered. It was wrong, completely wrong, to be thinking about cemetery plots as part of getting ready for the birth of a child. The very idea turned his stomach.

  “What’s the matter?” Ashley craned her neck and studied him.

  He was thinking of an answer when the phone rang. “Hold that thought.” He bounded into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Landon, it’s Ryan. We have a baby daughter. Anne Elizabeth.” There were tears in his voice. “She’s beautiful. Kari wanted me to call you.”

  As painful as the path ahead of them would be, Landon felt nothing but pure joy for his brother-in-law. He grinned, and as the baby’s healthy cry filled the phone line, Landon felt the sting of tears. “Hey, friend . . . congratulations! What’re the statistics? Ashley’ll want to know.”

  “She’s twenty inches long, six
pounds, three ounces. Checked in just after six o’clock. She came earlier than we thought, but she’s perfect.”

  Another surge of joy filled Landon’s heart. “We couldn’t be happier for you.” He got a few more details, like the fact that Kari was going home tomorrow morning, so if they wanted to visit, they should stop by the house and not the hospital.

  When the call ended and Landon returned to the living room, he looked at Ashley and his heart felt ripped in half. She had her hands over her face, her shoulders shaking. He took his place by her side. “Ashley, honey?”

  She dropped her hands, and even through her tears, she allowed a short laugh. “I’m so happy for them. Tell me about her.”

  Landon gave all the details he knew. At the same time, he stroked her hair, letting her cry.

  “She sounds beautiful. She would’ve been . . . the perfect cousin for Sarah.”

  Landon understood her tears then. She wasn’t crying because she was jealous or because the situation at hand wasn’t fair. She was crying for the precious little Anne Elizabeth, who would never know her cousin, never share adventures to the park or the first day of school with her. Never go to dances with her or find a best friend in her.

  “They were supposed to be closer than sisters.” Ashley covered her face again and let her tears come.

  “I know, baby.” He thought about the two girls—one so healthy and whole, her life just begun, the other with only days left to live. “I know.”

  The loss was vast and great, and maybe worst of all was this: every time Landon and Ashley looked at Anne, they would see their precious daughter. When she played in the nursery, they would see Sarah in the empty spot beside her. And on the first day of kindergarten, they would see their daughter in the seat next to Anne—no matter who occupied the chair. At the Baxter reunions, there would always be an emptiness next to Anne Elizabeth. It was inevitable, really.