The gift of Anne’s life would be celebrated and prized in a way that left no room for sorrow over what might’ve been. But she would also be a reminder of all they’d lost with Sarah. Even if they admitted that to no one but each other.
Ashley spent an hour the next day with Kari. Annie—as they were already calling her—was beautiful, and Ashley couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between the infant’s profile and the one they’d seen on the ultrasound of their own daughter. She held the baby, and she ached for the chance to hold Sarah.
Then, just as quickly, she chided herself. When they placed Sarah in her arms, she would have almost no time left with her. And so there was no rush, no rush at all.
The guys left Ashley and Kari alone to coo at baby Annie and marvel at her. Also to cry, the way they did after only a few minutes.
“Ashley, you’re so strong.” Kari held Annie close to her chest and rocked her. “I can’t believe you came.”
“Of course.” Ashley swallowed back the ocean of sorrow welling inside her. “Every time I see Annie, I’ll think of Sarah. And that’s okay. It’s a good thing. A blessing from God.”
Ashley wasn’t sure how she’d stayed so positive during the visit, but when she and Landon reached the van, when they buckled Devin into his car seat and headed off to pick up Cole at the neighbor’s house, she felt the darkness all but consume her. For a long time she was silent, staring out the window.
Landon gave her space, keeping quiet and leaving the radio off.
Before they got home, Ashley looked at him. “I want her buried near Mom.”
“Okay.” Landon glanced at her and then back at the road. “I’ll talk to your dad.”
Ashley nodded and fell silent again. There was no way now to view her pregnancy as anything other than what it was—the last few weeks with a daughter they would never know, never have the chance to raise. The most certain thing about her birth was her death, so Ashley was glad they at least had a plan.
The rest of the afternoon, Ashley stayed to herself, and before dinner she found Landon out back with the boys. She motioned for him, and when he jogged over, she bit her lip. “Would you care if I went to the cemetery? Just for half an hour?”
He hesitated. “I’ll go with you.”
“Next time.” She made a hopeful face. “Okay?”
His expression told her this was different from the last time she’d gone, when she’d left the house in a rush without telling him where she was going. He took a step back, his eyes confident. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Ashley was in the van and out of the garage in a couple of minutes. Once she was on the road, she rolled down the window and let the air wash over her face. She had a few questions for God, and she wasn’t sure if there was any place she’d rather ask them than at the cemetery. The place where all of life had a way of coming into focus.
On the way she kept one hand over her baby. She left the radio off and sang one of her mother’s favorite hymns. “‘O Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds Thy hands have made . . .’”
As the song grew and built, Ashley’s voice didn’t waver. She’d never been much of a singer, and during her rebellion against God for so many years, she hadn’t sung at all. She never had a reason in France or after she came home single and pregnant and ashamed.
She could argue that she didn’t have a reason to sing now, but what choice did she have? These were her baby’s last days. She wanted Sarah to hear her voice, hear her praising God even in the darkest of days. And she wanted to see her daughter’s burial place firsthand, picture how it would look and how close it would be to her mother’s.
The song lasted until she parked the van, and as she walked between the tombstones, she kept humming. This was a cemetery, but she wouldn’t let the song die. Sarah would be frightened if she stopped singing, if she sensed the way Ashley was more tense, more heartbroken with the reality of death surrounding her.
When Ashley reached her mother’s stone, she stopped and looked around. Her dad owned several plots, right? Wasn’t that what he’d told them when they buried her mother? She tried to remember what he’d bought. Certainly the spot next to her mother would belong to him one day.
A thought caught her off guard.
Or would it? He’d been spending most of his free time with Elaine, and neither Ashley nor any of her siblings would be surprised if he remarried. But what would happen to the plots at that point? Would her dad want to be buried near Elaine or near their mother? She felt her stomach twisting and turning, and she forced the thought from her mind. Cemetery plots weren’t for the dead; they were for the living. So of course Dad would be buried near Mom.
Ashley dismissed the idea and took a few steps closer to the bench—the one where she’d come from time to time when she needed to think, when she needed to remember her mother’s voice and wisdom and gentle touch. Now she looked to the side of the bench where the land was open. If her father owned that area, the spot would be perfect for Sarah. That way Ashley could sit on the bench and be close to both of them. Even though she knew they wouldn’t be here.
She dropped down onto the bench and exhaled. She was more tired than before, her body preparing itself for the coming birth. At the same time, she was getting her heart ready for the greater inevitability.
Her daughter’s death.
The back of the bench was hard on her spine, but she leaned against it anyway. Clouds gathered in the sky, and thunderstorms were in the forecast. She rested her hands on her stomach, and the questions that had been plaguing her came to the surface once more.
“All along I’ve prayed for a miracle.” Ashley narrowed her eyes and stared at the building clouds on the horizon. “I understand, Lord . . . that my baby won’t live long. And I understand that almost certainly her organs won’t be used to save the life of another baby. She’ll be too sick for that.” Her whispered prayer was tinged with just a little anger. “Your Word tells me that in all things You work for the good of those who love You.”
She hadn’t wanted to cry, but suddenly the desperation of the situation was more than she could take. “All things, God!” Her whisper became a cry, and she clenched her fists. “But where’s the good in this?” She was angry, but she didn’t care. The cemetery was empty except for her and God and little Sarah. The thought of her daughter made her bring her voice down. She didn’t want to scare her baby, not ever.
“What I’m asking, Lord, is where’s the miracle?” Tears choked her voice, and she massaged her throat. “And why this baby?” She looked at her mother’s tombstone. As she did, a quiet answer seemed to stir in her soul.
Daughter, My promises are faithful and true . . . but you must look for Me in the gentle whisper.
The gentle whisper? Ashley sat up straighter, struck by the certainty of the still, small voice inside her. She’d read something a few months ago about the gentle whisper. Something from First Kings. She made a note to check it later. Was the miracle of Sarah’s life going to come in the gentle whispers?
She couldn’t imagine what that could mean, but at least she’d done what she’d come to do. She looked one last time at her mother’s stone, then walked back to her van.
On the way home Ashley hummed the hymn one more time through. “‘How great Thou art! . . . How great Thou art! . . .’”
Sarah liked when she sang, so Ashley did it as often as she could. Also it felt good to praise God—even when the answers were slow in coming.
When Ashley got home, she found Landon barbecuing hamburgers, and she slipped her arms around his waist. She wanted to tell him about the gentle whisper, but she had to check her Bible first, needed to read the story one more time for herself.
“I did it.” Her eyes were dry as she looked at him. “I asked God my questions.” She leaned close and rested her forehead on his chest.
Now it was up to God to show her the answer.
The way maybe He’d already done
.
John wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this discouraged. He wanted to be strong. He was the patriarch, the father of all the adult kids looking to him for some kind of sign, some superhuman strength. But the impending loss of Ashley’s first daughter was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit.
It was two days before the scheduled delivery of Ashley’s baby. In a few minutes John would leave for Elaine’s house so the two of them could go shopping. The trip had been her idea.
“Regardless of the outcome, we should celebrate this baby’s birth the same as any other.” Elaine’s voice had held a level of emotion that was uncommon for her. “We didn’t have a shower for Ashley. But I want to buy something special, something pink and satiny and soft and pretty. Her baby deserves that sort of welcome, don’t you think?”
Actually, John hadn’t thought about it until Erin arrived from Texas. She was downstairs now, she and her girls inside making breakfast. Sam had stayed behind, busy with work. But Erin had brought a gift. A pink and white handmade blanket crocheted with lamb’s wool. Erin had tears in her eyes when she lifted it from her suitcase. “I hope . . .” She bit her lip, clearly struggling. “I hope she lives long enough to use it. Even once.”
Now that the birth was forty-eight hours away, John had never felt more right about anything. Of course they needed to get Sarah a gift. Her birth was a celebration, and it would be one they would remember forever. Even if John would have to work to hide his discouragement.
He told Erin good-bye and drove to Elaine’s. She was waiting for him, her smile lighting up her eyes as much as her face. When she climbed in the car, she leaned over and kissed him. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Me too.”
Most of the way to the mall they talked about Katy and Dayne. “I can’t seem to shake the feeling, this discouragement deep inside me. Maybe it’s more about Dayne and Katy than Ashley’s baby.”
“They’re dodging a lot of dirt. That’s for sure.” Elaine folded her arms and leaned against the door so she could face him. “How long have they been back in town?”
“Since Saturday. The director let them have a few extra days in light of the situation.” He paused. “They’re coming for dinner tonight, same as everyone else.”
“Even Brooke?”
“She says she’ll try.” John gripped the steering wheel and shook his head. “Maybe that’s what has me down. Brooke and Ashley.”
“Added up, there’s a lot to be down about.” She reached for his hand. “But out of everything ahead of us, I think the situation with Katy and Dayne is the most frightening.”
“Me too.” The traffic was sparse, the way John expected it to be on a weekday morning. He turned the car into the local mall and found a parking space near the entrance to Macy’s. “I’m afraid for their marriage.”
“And they’re both doing films after this?” Elaine took off her sunglasses and slid them into her purse. They climbed out and headed for the door.
“Different films, different continents.” John stopped once they were inside. “Any idea where the baby stuff is?”
“Come on.” She smiled and looped her arm through his.
They went down a series of aisles, and sure enough, Elaine knew where she was going. The pale pinks and blues of the baby department lay spread out before them. They moved into a small alcove beneath a sign that read Newborn.
Sorting through the soft pink gowns and receiving clothes stirred hope in John’s soul. Ashley’s baby would look beautiful in any of these outfits. They spent nearly half an hour looking before John spotted one that was far more special than the others. It was a gown in the softest pale pink cotton he had ever run his fingers across. It was trimmed with white and pink satin, and it came with a matching hat and booties. Best of all, it matched the blanket Erin had made for the baby.
Elaine touched it and studied it closely, both inside and out. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
A lump formed in John’s throat, and he swallowed so he could find his voice. “Then it’s perfect for little Sarah.”
“I found this, too.” She held up a sterling silver frame. Our Precious Baby Girl was engraved across the bottom. Elaine blinked back tears, but her smile remained. “I thought this could be from me.”
It was something John hadn’t thought about. Photos. Someone would need to be in the delivery room, capturing the moment, taking pictures so Ashley and Landon would have something to remember Sarah by. Something to prove that her brief life had counted. “Yes.” He gave a little cough to help clear his throat so he could speak. “They’ll love that.”
They were in line paying for the gifts, asking that the outfit and the frame be wrapped so they could give the presents to Ashley and Landon tonight after dinner, when John’s cell phone rang. He was distracted, searching his wallet for his debit card.
He opened the phone with one hand and held it to his ear with his shoulder. “Hi . . . just a minute.” He finally found the card and slid it across the counter. Then he repositioned the phone. “Hello? This is Dr. Baxter.”
“John, it’s Landon.” There was panic in the young man’s voice. John pressed his finger to his other ear so he could hear better. “Ashley’s in labor. We’re at the hospital right now. They gave her something to stop the contractions, but Dr. McDaniel wants to take the baby in a few hours. As soon as everyone can get here.”
“Okay.” John felt his heart skip a beat. “I’ll call the others. Don’t worry about a thing, Landon. Just be there for Ashley.”
“I will.” He hesitated. “And pray, will you? There’re still so many things that could go wrong.”
“I’m with Elaine. We’ll both be praying. And we’ll see you soon.”
He closed the phone and stared at Elaine.
The cashier was finishing the transaction. She grinned at them, and in a cutesy voice she said, “Sounds like someone’s in labor!”
John found a smile for the woman. “Yes.” He looked at Elaine again. “My daughter.”
The woman beamed. How could she know that the celebration of this baby’s birth would be short-lived?
With his eyes he told Elaine there was trouble. “You stay here while they gift wrap, okay? I need to call the others.”
Elaine’s face was tight with fear. John had already shared with her why the baby wasn’t supposed to come early, the dangers of contractions on a baby with anencephaly. If the doctor didn’t stop the labor, the baby could be stillborn.
John hurried outside and began with Kari, who offered to call Erin and Luke. Next John called Dayne, but there was no answer. Finally he dialed Brooke.
“Listen, could you or Peter bring a camera?” He could hear the urgency in his voice.
“Video or still?” Brooke sounded as desperate to help as any of the others, and John wondered if a breakthrough might yet lie ahead for his two daughters today.
“Both if you have them.”
“Okay. I’m at work, but I’ll run home. I know where Ashley is. We’ll see you there.”
Elaine hurried out the door just then, the packages in a bag. “I have an idea. I’ll watch the kids in the waiting room. That way you won’t be distracted when you get to meet Sarah.”
John froze, and for a moment he could only stare at the woman he’d come to care so much about. “You would do that?”
“Of course.” She looked for traffic and stepped out toward his car. “Let’s hurry. We’ll go to my house and get my car; then we’ll go to yours. I’ll follow you and Erin and the girls over to the hospital.”
John was amazed. He wasn’t sure he would’ve thought of that—the fact that Erin and the girls needed a ride. His mind was racing in circles with only one thought shouting any sense at him. Ashley was about to give birth to her daughter, and then they might have only minutes to tell her hello. And minutes more to tell her good-bye.
Elaine was a gift from God, and after today he was certain he couldn’t imagine his life without her. His cell ph
one rang again as he backed out of his parking space.
“Dad, it’s me, Luke. I’m at work, but I’m leaving right now. I’ll get Reagan and the kids, and we’ll be at the hospital in a little more than an hour. Please . . . make them wait if it’s possible.”
“I will. Drive safely.”
Other calls came streaming in. Kari hadn’t been able to reach Ryan, probably because he was on the football field doing conditioning with his team.
“That’s okay.” John kept his voice calm. This was when his family needed him. He didn’t have time to feel discouraged now. “I’ll swing by the field and see if he’s there. You get the kids ready. That way you’ll be able to leave as soon as Ryan gets home.”
“Thanks, Dad.” There was a cry in Kari’s voice. “I have to be there. I just have to be.”
Elaine nodded at the slight change in plans. “It’s on the way. Take me with you. We can go by my house afterwards.” She had the bag of gifts on the floor near her feet. “What about Dayne?”
Dayne! John still hadn’t gotten ahold of him. “They hardly ever answer their phones.”
“Try.” Elaine opened his cell phone and handed it to him. “If they don’t answer, I’ll find them myself.”
John’s heart raced, and he made a conscious effort to keep from speeding. He had Dayne on speed dial, so once more he punched in the number seven and hit Send. On the other end a phone began to ring.
Come on, Dayne. . . . Pick it up. We need you there. The phone kept ringing. After the fourth one, Dayne’s voice mail came on.
At the beep, John left another urgent message. “Ashley’s in labor. It’s eleven-fifteen in the morning, Monday. The doctor will be taking the baby by C-section sometime around one o’clock. Please, Dayne . . . you and Katy need to be there. Hurry.”
Summer Page 30
