Love Story

by Karen Kingsbury

  That very quote was in Cole’s project.

  Cole was singing along to a Colton Dixon song from his phone’s playlist. Ashley smiled to herself, her eyes on the road. Wilson Gage had taught Ashley something very important. She could never underestimate the power of a single conversation with a stranger. The importance of sharing God’s love with someone who needed it, the way Wilson Gage had shared with Ashley’s father that night.

  The man could never have known—without Cole’s project—the impact of his words. How her father would go on to find faith in Christ. How when given the choice between four cities where he could finish his internship as a doctor, her father had chosen Bloomington.

  Because it was there on that single night that his life had changed forever.

  Her dad had tried to look up Wilson Gage through the years, but eventually he figured the man and his Scarlett must’ve moved on. It took Facebook and the determination of Cole to find him.

  Ashley let the wonder of it all stir her heart and stay with her.

  The most incredible detail of the whole story was the prayer Wilson Gage had prayed before her father left the man’s house that night. Everything he had asked God for had happened. Especially the last part. Because the Baxters were absolutely that family everyone looked to and everyone wanted for their own.

  And now Ashley knew the reason why.

  • • •

  THERE WAS ONLY one place John wanted to be, one place where he could finish the rest of the story. The love story he shared with Elizabeth. He pulled into the cemetery and took his time walking to the plot where her body lay.

  John had been here more times than he could count. On special occasions, in the early morning hours before a birthday or anniversary. The anniversary of her home-going. But this Memorial Day morning was different. He was still in the story, still caught up in the details, still listening for her voice. He could feel her in his arms, even now.

  The bench where John always sat was there, waiting for him. But somehow he expected her to be there, too. His Elizabeth. Looking for him, smiling in his direction. Where have you been? she would ask. I’ve been waiting for you.

  John breathed deep the sweet summer air and took his seat. He looked at the stone, engraved with her name. “Elizabeth, my darling, I’m here.”

  There was no response, of course. No word from God or whisper in the wind. Elizabeth was gone. She was not here beside him. This side of heaven, she never would be again. John leaned back on the bench and lifted his eyes to the blue sky. She wasn’t here, but she was there.

  He smiled, in case she could see him.

  Then he let the rest of the story come. Not in great detail like before, because there were too many moments, too many beautiful years and decades to relive. He would have to spend the rest of his life trying. And that wouldn’t be fair to anyone—not his family and certainly not Elaine.

  He thought back to those long ago days once again. He married Elizabeth in a civil ceremony with only the Wesley family in attendance. She wore a simple white dress and he, a plain dark suit. It didn’t matter. Even now John could see the hope in Elizabeth’s eyes that day.

  John sighed and leaned forward, his eyes on her tombstone. After the wedding, the two of them begged God for a solution to their housing situation.

  The next day one of John’s professors offered them a garage apartment.

  It was a beginning, and John completing his medical degree was another. Years later after Erin was born, John was offered positions at two different hospitals. One of them was in Bloomington. The city where John’s car broke down, where he met Wilson Gage.

  The place where his life was changed forever.

  The decision was easy. Their family moved to Indiana and found a beautiful house in the country, along with a church where they could watch their family grow.

  A week later Elizabeth received a letter from her mother seeking reconciliation. It was an answer to years of prayers, and finally . . . finally they had healing over the heartache of the past.

  All except the loss of their firstborn son.

  At the time of his birth, the social worker had told Elizabeth not to think about her baby boy. Don’t talk about the adoption or tell anyone about it. She was to act like she’d never given birth. Like none of the terrible, painful ordeal had ever happened.

  “Try to forget,” the woman had told Elizabeth.

  Here, still, John’s eyes stung at the pain of that time. Forgetting about that little boy was as impossible as forgetting how to breathe. For both him and Elizabeth. But the years played out anyway, in the most beautiful way. Brooke was born, then Kari, and a few years later, Ashley and Erin. The Baxters’ own little women.

  And with every girl that joined their family, John rejoiced. But he still thought every day about his firstborn. His son. The years passed and John and Elizabeth were in love with their family of girls. They were chatty and tenderhearted, helpful with their mother and silly. They danced and sang around the house and they loved their daddy more than words could say.

  And then God gave them Luke. Their youngest . . . their second son.

  The fact that Elizabeth overcame her first bout with cancer when Luke was in elementary school was a miracle John would always be thankful for. It allowed them seasons of learning and growing in their love for God and each other. A dozen Christmases they would have otherwise not had.

  But then the cancer came back.

  His eyes shifted to her tombstone again. “How good is our God, to let you meet Dayne before you died.”

  The wind picked up around him and played in the trees that lined the cemetery. All his life there had been one thing John wanted to give his precious Elizabeth, one thing that was completely out of his control. The chance for her to hold that baby boy one more time. To hold him and love him and whisper in his ear the precious truth: That she had never—not one day since he was born—ever stopped loving him.

  And that week before she died, God again did what only He could do. He brought Dayne to Elizabeth. She died knowing the goodness of a God who answers prayers.

  John lowered himself to his knees and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. The letters on the gravestone needed polishing, so he ran the cloth over each one. As if he were etching her name on his heart once more. When he was finished, he stood and breathed in deep. “I miss you, darling Elizabeth. I always will.” He looked to the heavens again. For a single moment he could see her once more, dancing in his arms that first night.

  You have to teach me how to swing!

  John smiled. Oh, how he still missed her.

  Before she died, Elizabeth said something to the entire family, something John remembered now. She would always be with them. In Ashley’s paintings and Cole’s laugh . . . in Kari’s kindness and Luke’s gentle spirit. She would always be with them.

  And so she was.

  John brushed off his knees and walked back to the car. He would go home and meet up with Elaine and he would take her in his arms. The story had played itself out. He belonged to Elaine now, and he would tell her so. Something else hit him. Maybe Elaine might need time, too. Time to remember her first husband, the man who had died long before Elizabeth did. They would have to talk about that. Then later today the two of them would go to Ashley and Landon’s for the big barbecue.

  They were going to be okay.

  Still, as he climbed in his car, as he took a last look in the direction of her tombstone, John couldn’t help but think one thing. Someday he would take his last breath here, and the next he would be there, with her again. Not like it was on earth. But he fully believed the first thing he would see when he got there was a bench, much like the one on the U of M campus.

  And there she’d be, his Elizabeth. Smiling at him, looking for him. Her pretty hair pulled back in a ponytail. There you are, Elizabeth. You get more beautiful every time I see you.

  He could almost hear her words.

  Come sit with me, John. I’ve been
waiting for you.

  • • •

  WILSON GAGE PULLED into the driveway of the pretty farmhouse just outside Bloomington and for a minute he stared at the place. Just took it in. If he understood Cole Blake, this was the house where it had all happened.

  The place where John and Elizabeth Baxter raised their family.

  Now the house belonged to Cole’s parents. And today was the family’s annual Memorial Day barbecue. Far as Wilson knew, Cole hadn’t told anyone he was coming.

  “Let’s surprise my papa.” Wilson had given Cole his phone number and the boy had called him last week. “I’ve been looking for a way to thank him. For taking time to tell me his story.”

  Wilson liked the idea then, and he liked it now. The driveway was filled with cars, and as he inched closer to the house, he rolled down his window. He could hear laughter coming from somewhere inside. Tears stung his eyes.

  He had a feeling Scarlett would’ve loved the Baxters.

  His steps weren’t as fast as they once were. Old war injuries got worse with every sunrise. But that wasn’t going to stop him from being here today. From seeing if what Cole had said was true.

  That somehow on a single evening his actions had affected this family forever.

  He straightened his Vietnam veteran pin, the one he wore on the lapel of his sweater whenever he went anywhere special. Then he knocked on the door and waited. Footsteps and then the door opened and a man answered. A man not a whole lot younger than him.

  “Hello.” The man looked kind and happy. He smiled. “Can I help you?”

  Just then a teenage boy ran up. “Papa . . . this is your surprise.” The boy stepped forward. “I’m Cole Blake. And you’re . . . ?”

  “Wilson.” His eyes moved from the boy’s to the man’s. “Wilson Gage.” He grinned. “You must be John Baxter.”

  “Yes!” John’s eyes filled with recognition. He laughed a few times, like he was completely caught off guard. “Come in, Wilson. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Cole stepped up and shook Wilson’s hand. “I know it was a long drive. But thanks for coming.” He grinned at his papa. “You and my papa have a lot to catch up on.”

  Which is just what they did. John welcomed Wilson into the house and introduced him to all the family. Like he was a hero.

  And maybe that was part of the miracle, after all. Wilson smiled to himself.

  As John bid Wilson goodbye a few hours later, they hugged and John looked at him, real deep like. “Do you remember that prayer? The one you said before I left your house that night?”

  “Yes . . . Yes, I remember praying.” Wilson fiddled absently with his veteran’s pin.

  “You said something I’ve never forgotten.” John hesitated, his eyes shining. “You prayed that faith would see me through every hard thing ahead . . . and that God would give me a marriage and a family so beautiful all the world will want to know the secret.”

  Wilson blinked back tears. “I guess that was my prayer.”

  “Yes.” John laughed. “It happened just like that, Wilson.” John smiled. “It’s not every time that a man gets to thank his hero.” He hesitated and an early summer breeze drifted through the front door to the place where they stood. “Thank you, Wilson. That night changed my life.”

  Wilson couldn’t find his voice. He nodded and gave John the slightest salute. Then he waved and walked to his car. The tears didn’t come until he was behind the wheel. God had a purpose for him after all.

  Him. Wilson Gage.

  An old vet he figured no one would ever care about again. But God cared. He cared so much He brought him here to John Baxter and his beautiful family and He reminded him that a single prayer can change a life. Amazing grace, indeed. Wilson’s tears came for all that, but they came for another reason, too. He looked at the rearview mirror and the pin on his lapel, and a smile stretched across his face.

  For the first time since the war, someone had called him a hero.

  24

  Andi hadn’t lived in California for a year, but she knew exactly where she was going. Knew it like she knew her own name. She gripped the steering wheel of the rental car and took the next exit.

  Cody’s townhouse was two blocks away.

  She’d taken the trip as soon as she could. Her mind was made up that this was the thing to do. Especially after her last conversation with Bailey. Since then she’d come to understand the truth. God hadn’t told her to stay away from Cody.

  Fear had done that.

  A fear that was understandable given their history, but one she had to stand up to all the same. Every day after talking to Bailey she thought about picking up the phone and calling Cody. Telling him she was sorry for making him leave . . . sorry for not hearing him out. But always she came to the same conclusion.

  This conversation would be better in person.

  She would’ve come sooner, but she had to wait for the floodwaters to finally dry up. Had to wait until she was sure Caleb wasn’t the guy for her. He was nice. But he wasn’t Cody Coleman. He never could be.

  It took time, but in the last few weeks the people in the temporary tent housing found places to live, apartments or homes. Some moved in with friends or relatives, others found situations arranged by the city.

  Only then could Andi take her month off for a job well done. Not once did Andi have to wonder where she was going to spend her time, or who she would spend it with.

  As soon as she was released from her duties she caught the first flight out. She and her puppy, Max. The owners never came to claim him. Her supervisor was pretty sure the mama dog and puppy belonged to an old man killed in the flood. Andi glanced at the seat beside her. Max was in his travel crate sleeping. She smiled at him. “You’re going to like Cody’s dog, little guy. He’ll be your friend.”

  Max yawned and settled into a deeper sleep.

  Two more turns and Andi pulled up in front of Cody’s house. It was late afternoon. Cody had to be out of school for the summer by now, which meant he was probably home. Unless he was out running errands or hiking with Riley.

  Andi stepped out of the car and headed up the walk. How many times had she come here? Nights when he made her dinner or the two of them watched a movie. Always he was sure to get her home before it got too late.

  Not once had Cody put them in an uncompromising situation. Even when both of them were tempted, they never gave in. We’re going to do this God’s way, he would tell her. And so it was. Cody was strong like that.

  She reached his front door and knocked. After a few seconds she heard footsteps. For days she’d been thinking about what she would say when this moment came, and now Andi wasn’t nervous. She simply couldn’t wait to be in his arms.

  The door opened, but before Andi could run to him she took a step back.

  The man at the door wasn’t Cody.

  “Can I help you?” He waited.

  Andi shook her head. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I’m looking for Cody Coleman.”

  “Oh.” The guy was in his thirties, maybe. Balding with glasses. “I worked with him at Oaks Christian. I’m staying here through the end of his lease.”

  Knots began to form in Andi’s stomach. “The . . . end of his lease?” She tried to make sense of what was happening. If Cody wasn’t here, then . . . “Where is he?”

  “He moved.” The man’s expression grew more serious, like he was just understanding the situation. “You’re a friend of his . . . I thought you must know.”

  “I didn’t hear.” Andi felt like she was floating above herself. This was a nightmare, that’s what it was. It had to be. She forced herself to focus. “Where did he go?”

  “He took a job in Montana. Left last week.” The man shrugged. “Sorry I don’t have more details.” He hesitated and then seemed to get an idea. “His mother still lives in town. She might know.”

  His mother! Yes, that was it! Andi knew exactly where Cody’s mother lived. She smiled at the stranger in Cody’s doorway as she
backed away from the porch. “Good idea. Thank you.” She waved and like that she was down the path and back in her car.

  She was at Cody’s mother’s doorstep five minutes later. As soon as the woman opened the door, Andi didn’t hesitate. “Mrs. Coleman!”

  “Andi.” Cami Coleman looked shocked to see her. “What in the world . . . ?”

  They shared a quick hug. Andi didn’t have time to wait. She needed answers. Now. She searched the woman’s face. “I made a terrible mistake. Cody came to find me in Louisiana and I sent him away.”

  A knowing look came over his mother’s face. “I heard about it.” There was no accusation in her tone, no finger-pointing. Just a sadness that reflected the way Andi felt. “Cody told me. You didn’t get to hear his story, his explanation.”

  “No.” Andi felt terrible. What had she been thinking, not to at least hear him out? Especially when she still loved him so much?

  “Come in, Andi.” Mrs. Coleman stepped to the side. “I’ll pour us some coffee.”

  “I’d love to, but . . .” She looked back at her rental car. “My puppy’s sleeping, and I need to get to Cody. As fast as I can.”

  The woman nodded. “Let me get the address. For the school in Montana. It’s a ranch for boys with severe emotional issues.”

  Andi wasn’t surprised. It sounded like exactly the type of place Cody would be drawn to work. Her heart surged with hope. She was about to have an address! A quick drive back to the airport and she’d be on the next open flight to Montana. Even if it cost her half a month’s salary to get there.

  Mrs. Coleman returned and handed her a slip of paper. “Here you go.”

  Every minute counted, but suddenly Andi hesitated. She looked into the woman’s eyes. “Cody will tell me the details later, but . . . what was the reason? Why did he act so distant after we got engaged last time?”

  For a moment it looked like Mrs. Coleman wasn’t going to say anything. She started to shake her head, and then she caught herself. “He can tell you more. But I’ll tell you this.” She hesitated. “It was his PTSD, Andi. He had terrible episodes after your second engagement.”