Sunset

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Yes.” Cole’s shoulders sank. “I liked him a lot. He was really nice.”

  Ashley put her hand on Cole’s shoulder and turned to Landon. “Is there a service?”

  “Something small and simple. It’s set for Tuesday morning. We can catch a flight out Monday and come home Wednesday.”

  “Good.” Ashley sat back in her seat and buckled her belt. “I’d like us all to be there.”

  “Me too.” Landon put the van in drive and turned out of the parking lot.

  Ashley covered his hand with her own. “We can skip the opening night party if you want.”

  “It’s Cole’s big night.” Landon glanced over his shoulder at their son, and even with his damp eyes, his voice was filled with pride. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  The party lasted until nearly midnight. After they were home and the boys were in bed, Ashley found Landon sitting in the dark living room alone, staring out the front window. Quietly she took the seat next to him, nuzzling up against him, her arm around his shoulders. This was one of those moments when love didn’t need words.

  Ashley tried to imagine being married for seventy-six years. Andrew and Effie must’ve been so close, their hearts so tightly woven together that when one breathed in, the other felt life in his or her bones. Andrew had been well when Effie died, well enough that he wanted that last night in their bed together. But with his Effie dead and buried, life had slowly begun to ebb from Andrew. His broken heart could be alone for only so long.

  “He wanted this.” Landon turned to her. “The moment Grandma was gone he wanted heaven.”

  “His body wouldn’t let him stay here without her.” Ashley studied her husband; then she put her hand alongside his face and kissed him. A kiss that told of love and longing and heartbreak. A kiss that understood there would never be enough time together in this life. But even so, God had a happy ending right around the corner for those who believed. Ashley and Landon knew the lesson personally, as Andrew and Effie had. Or as Ashley’s grandmother used to say, “All this and heaven too.”

  The kiss lingered, and even in the shadow of great loss, Ashley felt herself smile.

  All this and heaven too. Indeed.

  Luke woke up to sunshine streaming through the window of his old bedroom on the second floor of the Baxter house. The play last night had offered a glimmer of hope between him and Reagan, but still here he was. He rolled onto his back and stared at the off-white ceiling. It could use a coat of paint, but it didn’t matter now with the house on the market.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. Reagan had at least agreed to bring the kids and meet him at the play. Luke drove by himself, straight from work. Mostly because he wasn’t sure she’d actually come and he had promised Cole he’d be there to see his first performance. So when Reagan showed up, Luke took the action as a good sign. But other than polite, functional conversation, she didn’t talk to him once during the play, and when it was over, she seemed uncomfortable.

  “You’re staying at your dad’s?” Her question sounded more like a statement. She had Tommy by the hand and Malin in her arms.

  Tommy tugged on her coat sleeve. “Are we sleeping over at Papa’s? Huh, Mommy, are we?”

  “Shhh.” Her tone was just short of harsh. She shot their son a look and then turned back to Luke. “I’m taking the kids home.” Her eyes were empty and cold. “I thought the space could do us good.”

  Luke was about to argue with her, but his anger wouldn’t let him. How dare she bring the kids to the show as if she were willing to take a positive step forward in their relationship only to turn around and basically tell him that her trip to the theater had nothing to do with him?

  He kicked his legs over the edge of the bed and sat, slouched. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall and cringed at the dark circles under his eyes, the defeat in his face. Anyone could see he was a broken man. Part of it was that sleep didn’t come easily these days. Reagan was hinting about getting a divorce a little more every time they talked. Any week now she was going to stop hinting and simply serve him with papers.

  That’s where their marriage was headed.

  He stood and stretched, then slipped on his T-shirt and sweatpants. He went to the window and looked out at the familiar landscape, the basketball court, where he and Ashley had played all those pickup games when they were kids. Maybe if he could find a way to buy the old Baxter house, he could bring Reagan and the kids here, and by the very virtue of all the happy times the walls in this house had seen, they would find love again. How could a family not be loving and happy here in this place?

  Luke blinked and gradually dismissed the thought. He opened the window and lifted his gaze to the blue beyond the trees. I’m losing everything. I don’t know how to stop it from happening.

  A breeze rustled the branches outside, but there was no distinct answer, no clear direction that might help him avoid the carnage ahead. What kind of kid would Tommy grow up to be if they got divorced? And what about Malin? Had they adopted her from China to bring her up in a broken home? Splitting time between Reagan and him, the kids were bound to feel lost and rejected. Especially compared to their cousins.

  I’m at the end of myself, God.

  There was no quiet whisper or shouting voice telling him which way to turn. But he had the overwhelming sense that he should go downstairs, that in the early morning hours he might find his father at the kitchen table. He brushed his teeth and headed down, feeling the weight of his loneliness and failure with every step, every breath.

  Sure enough, his dad was at the table drinking coffee and reading the Bible.

  Luke was in his socks, and his steps had been quiet. His dad didn’t see him there at the bottom of the stairs, which gave Luke the chance to study him. Really study him. A sad, silent laugh rattled around in his chest. He was asking God for help, but when was the last time he’d spent a morning like this? up before anyone else, exploring God’s Word and seeking wisdom for the day? He leaned against the stair railing. This was the exact picture his dad had always made in the early morning. No wonder Luke had been raised in a home of goodness and grace, love and laughter. His dad’s deep devotion to God had created that type of home for his kids.

  “Luke!” His dad’s smile was full and welcoming, without any of the disgust or discouragement that he would’ve been justified in having. “You’re up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” He rubbed his head and padded over to the table. “You sure I won’t disturb you? I can come back in a little while.”

  “Not at all.” He patted the spot on the table across from him. “I finished a few minutes ago. I was just looking up a few verses.”

  “Oh.” Luke sat down and rested his forearms on the table.

  “Want coffee? There’s more in the pot.”

  “No thanks.” Lately coffee made his heart race. Probably because he was in a near constant state of anxiety already. The last thing he needed was caffeine. “You have a minute?”

  His dad chuckled in a tender sort of way. He eased his fingers around his coffee cup. “It’s not quite seven in the morning. My schedule’s pretty open.” His smile faded. “You didn’t say much about Reagan last night.”

  Luke felt his anger at the situation rise again. “Not much to say. She didn’t talk about it.” He lifted his hands, discouraged. As he sat back, he put one arm over the back of the chair next to him. “The show ended, and she told me she was taking the kids home. She thought it’d be better if I came here. So we’d have more space between us.”

  Concern creased his dad’s forehead. “Then things aren’t any better.”

  “They’re worse.” He held his breath for a few seconds and then released it slowly. As he did, his anger left him. The seriousness of the situation was suddenly glaring. “I’m losing her.”

  “Son.” His dad folded his hands on the table in front of him and looked at him. “A marriage isn’t something you lose. It’s somethi
ng you work to keep . . . or it’s something you willingly let go.”

  “Where does that leave me?” Luke wanted his dad’s advice, but how could he understand something like this? “I don’t want to let go, but Reagan’s finished.” He worked to keep his frustration from spilling into his voice. “Things are a mess.”

  “They are.” His dad’s answers were slow and thought out. “Maybe you need to go back a ways . . . to where the knots first began.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes. “When we moved to Indiana?”

  “No.” His dad paused, his gaze kind but intense. “September 10, 2001.”

  “Dad . . .” The last thing Luke wanted was to rehash the past. “We’re over that. We made a mistake. We moved on.”

  His dad took a long sip of his coffee and then set the mug back on the table. “Moral failure is more complicated than that.” He folded his hands again. “You think you’re past it, and in some ways you are. God forgave you. You moved on. But if you took a walk back to that time, you’d see there were probably aspects you didn’t deal with.”

  Luke wasn’t sure he was tracking with his dad. “I apologized to her, if that’s what you mean.”

  For a moment, his dad looked out the window, his eyes distant. As if he were seeing a scene from long ago. “I know about moral failure. Obviously.” He set his jaw. “The whole time your mother was pregnant with Dayne, those months when she lived at the girls’ home, I must’ve apologized a dozen times. I felt like it was all my fault. It wasn’t until after your mother came home, after she’d been forced to give him up, that I took her for a drive and asked for her forgiveness.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “No.” His answer was kind, but it came quicker this time. “You give an apology. Forgiveness can only be given by the person you’ve hurt.”

  The words swirled around in Luke’s head and hit their mark. Suddenly he could see the events of that fall even more clearly than he’d seen them back then. Monday night—when he and Reagan crossed lines that had defined them—was too late for anything but regret. And the next day he was trying to think of how he could face her when the news came screaming across the campus. New York City was under attack, the Twin Towers on fire.

  Luke closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had been shocked like everyone else, and as the towers collapsed, the last thing on his or Reagan’s mind was their compromise from the night before. A sharp breath filled Luke’s lungs, and when he opened his eyes, he felt different. “I never thought about it like that.”

  “I hadn’t either.” His dad picked up his coffee mug and held it with both hands, his elbows planted on the table. “Not until I needed to.”

  Since his marriage began falling apart, since the tangles became bigger and more complicated than either of them knew what to do with, Luke had often imagined himself in the middle of a pitch-dark tunnel. The kind that winds for miles underground, with twists and turns and a limited amount of oxygen. Often Luke felt like he’d never see daylight again.

  Until this moment.

  Adrenaline pushed through his veins, and he worked to keep from being too hopeful. “You think it would help if I asked for her forgiveness?”

  “Think about all Reagan lost after that day.” His dad’s tone was gentle, but he seemed to have thought this through before today. “Her purity, which she intended to keep intact until her wedding day. She went from being a single college coed to a single mother and all the stigma that comes with.”

  Luke could hardly argue.

  “She lost her independence, and in the process of having Tommy, she lost her ability to have more children.”

  Each bit of loss hit Luke like a hammer to his stomach. And his dad hadn’t even touched on another sad truth. Reagan also lost what would’ve been her last conversation with her dad. Because that was when . . . when everything went wrong.

  “I know you were both responsible for what happened that night. Moral failure rarely happens in a vacuum.” His dad set the cup down and pushed back from the table a little.

  “But I had a responsibility.” What was wrong between him and Reagan was clearer than ever. “I never should’ve let things get out of hand. So maybe this is what we’ve been missing. Because I never asked her to forgive me.”

  His dad stood and motioned for Luke to follow. “I need to move the sprinkler.” He opened the door between the dining room and kitchen, and once they were out back, Luke fell in beside him. The day was already warm, and though a few puffy white clouds hung along the horizon, the sky was clear. Like Luke’s thoughts.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” His dad slipped his hands in his pants pockets and glanced at Luke.

  “Please.” Luke was kicking himself for not having this talk with his dad sooner. The man had so much wisdom. But then, it was a wisdom born of experience.

  “Don’t rush home and ask for her forgiveness.” He stopped next to the rosebushes Luke’s mother had so dearly loved. His dad absently pulled off a few dead leaves and ran his fingers over the buds, each bursting with life. They continued walking. “Be thoughtful about your words so Reagan knows how much her forgiveness would mean to you. Maybe take her someplace, somewhere away from home. Since you’ve been fighting a lot there.”

  “Okay.” Luke’s mouth felt dry. He didn’t want to blow this chance. “What about until then?”

  “That’s easy.” He smiled, and as they walked he put his arm around Luke’s shoulders. “Serve her. Encourage her. Be kind even if she isn’t kind in return.”

  Luke had to be honest with himself. As cold and distant as Reagan had been, that part would be harder than asking for her forgiveness. He looked over his shoulder at the rosebushes, and he could almost see his mother, almost feel her walking on his other side. He allowed a quiet laugh. “That’s what Mom would say. Basically, love her.”

  “It is.” His dad stopped and nodded slowly. He too looked back at the roses. “I miss her so much.”

  For a few beats they stood there. Days like this, Luke still couldn’t believe she was gone. As if he almost expected her to be waiting for them back in the house. They set out toward the far edges of the yard, and once his dad had moved the sprinkler, they took the same path to the house again. “You’re really going to sell it.”

  His dad stopped again and seemed to survey the property. “I’ll miss everything about it. The way it looks in the glow of a sunrise and the way the shadows fall against it at sunset. Every memory, every room.” He gave Luke a sad smile. “The smell of your mother’s roses coming through the open windows and mixing with whatever was cooking in the oven.”

  Luke swallowed the emotions building inside him. “Maybe I should try to buy it, move Reagan and the kids closer to the rest of the family.”

  They started walking again. When his dad finally responded, his voice was thoughtful, filled once more with that familiar seasoned wisdom. “The house is wonderful, but it isn’t walls and windows that make a home. I learned that from the fire.” He glanced at the corner of the house near the garage, the place where last fall’s blaze had started. “Go see about making things right with Reagan. That’s where you’ll find your home.”

  For a few more minutes they talked about the different buyers who had come through and made offers and how the soft market wasn’t helping. “The buyer’s out there.” His dad opened the back door and held it for Luke. “It’ll all happen in God’s timing.”

  Like everything about life, Luke thought.

  He took half an hour to gather his things and chat a little longer with his dad, and then he headed home. Reagan wasn’t expecting him until late Sunday. The time apart was good for them; at least that’s what they had agreed. But if he was going to find ways to serve and encourage her, he needed to go back today. Before another minute passed.

  As he drove, one bit of advice from his dad kept replaying in his mind. “Go see about making things right with Reagan. That’s where you’ll find your home.” At the time, Luke meant to ask
exactly what his dad meant. A home was made of memories and magical moments, seasons shared and years of love and laughter. What did making things right have to do with that?

  Luke stared out the windshield at the road ahead, trying to relate the two. Then, as if God had dropped the answer straight to his heart, the connection was obvious. Part of what made up the memories in a family were times like this when everything was falling apart. Some of the best memories made in the Baxter house had come from the days when he and Ashley found their way back to being not only brother and sister but friends. Times when his mother was sick and his father cared for her around the clock.

  The family meetings when they were little, when their dad would sit them down to talk. Luke and the others always dragged their feet as they came together, but at one time or another they all admitted how much better life felt once they worked through their differences. Looking back, those discussions were part of what made the tapestry of their lives so rich, so memorable.

  With God’s help, if he could find the words to ask Reagan for her forgiveness, then one day years from now this terrible time in their marriage would be only one more streak of color across the picture of their past. Part of the richness of life together.

  He looked at the clock on his dashboard. He would be home in less than ten minutes, and for the first time in months the thought didn’t discourage him. He and Reagan could love again, couldn’t they? If there was true forgiveness? He imagined for a moment how it would feel walking the hallways of his house without the tension he felt there now or what it would be like to sit down to dinner and look into the eyes of his wife, knowing what they’d survived.

  So his father’s words made perfect sense. Luke didn’t need the Baxter house to have a sense of love and shared memories and a history rich with hope and healing. He needed to go to Reagan and take his father’s advice.

  And in that way, one day the place he was headed wouldn’t be merely the house he shared with Reagan and the kids.