Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  Katy didn’t want to be a downer, but if she was going to talk about Dayne, the conversation was bound to turn sad. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to open up, but she needed to share what was going on in her heart. She missed Dayne more with every breath, and at the very least she needed Ashley and Rhonda to pray for her. Otherwise she might go the rest of her life never finding the right man, always comparing every guy she met with the one she could never have.

  They settled in with their drinks. Ashley sat next to Katy, and Rhonda was directly across from them.

  Rhonda started in. “Okay, so what gives?” She planted her elbows on the table and gave Katy a sympathetic look. “We’ve been dying to hear about Los Angeles.”

  Katy smiled. “I guess I had to leave Narnia first.”

  Ashley stirred her iced tea with a straw. “Tell us about Dayne.” There was a depth in her voice that seemed to cut through the small talk. A depth and a longing, as if she had a deep concern over whatever Katy’s answer might be. “What happened during the trial?”

  For a moment Katy studied Ashley. Could she know? Could she possibly have found out somehow that Dayne was her brother? Ashley’s expression, her voice, everything about her seemed poised to hang on to every word, almost desperate for her answers about Dayne. So did she know?

  Katy let her gaze fall to her hands, tightly folded in her lap. No, it was impossible. Dayne hadn’t told them, and she hadn’t said a word to anyone. Even Jenny knew only that Dayne was adopted and that his birth parents lived in Bloomington, not that they were the Baxters. There’s no way the topic had come up in the few minutes while she’d been scrambling to get ready.

  Katy lifted her chin and looked from Ashley to Rhonda. “It’s over between us.” Her voice threatened to give her away, to crack and release the dam of emotion built up behind it. “Dayne and I, we decided it could . . . it could never work.”

  She spent the next half hour telling them what happened in LA, how she and Dayne had struggled to find a minute alone, and when they did, how it never was long before the photographers found them. She told them about his faith, how sincere it was and how determined Dayne had become to live for God, which led to the details about the trial, the beach house Dayne’s attorney had found for them, and how even that hadn’t been safe from the tabloids. Finally she told them about the near accident.

  Again, Ashley seemed more intense than she’d been before. “Did he say anything about that being a close call or whether he’s had near accidents before?”

  “He said it could happen anytime. The photographers are always chasing him.” Again Katy wondered about her interest in Dayne, in his welfare. Ashley couldn’t know; there was no way. Not unless her father told her, and from what Dayne had said, John Baxter was committed to wait until Dayne had made up his mind about the timing and whether it would ever work for the Baxter siblings to know about the identity of their older brother.

  “That’s terrible.” Ashley had finished her tea. She was definitely swept up in the story. “So that’s why you ended things?”

  “What choice did we have?” Katy stared at the last of her latte. It was too cold to taste good. “I guess that’s why I wanted to tell you. So you’d pray for me.”

  Then Rhonda told her story, how she’d gone out with a guy and how he’d called himself a “believer” and how he’d been a perfect gentleman all night. “Until we drive past a Christian bookstore, and the guy starts laughing.”

  “About what?” Katy had no idea where Rhonda was headed with this story.

  Rhonda raised her hands and let them fall to the table. “About Christians. He says, ‘I can’t believe anyone really buys all that garbage about faith.’”

  Ashley remained quiet, but Katy felt Rhonda’s frustration. Were there no good guys left, none that would make the kind of husbands Jenny and Ashley had found? No one committed to faith and family? No one real, anyway? She waited for Rhonda to finish.

  “Turns out the guy’s a believer all right. A believer in atheism. Studied science all his life, bought every politically correct line of rhetoric any teacher or textbook ever told him.” Her eyes grew flat from the irony of it. “The first guy I’ve met in a month who isn’t a regular at some bar, living at home with his mother, or without intimate knowledge of deodorant.” She frowned. “And the guy’s an atheist.”

  They laughed, but they did their best to cheer Rhonda up, to convince her there’d be other guys, even if Katy struggled to believe the possibility herself.

  When they finished, Ashley drove Katy home. Halfway there, they were at a stoplight and Ashley turned to her. “I think you’re making a mistake.” Her tone was kind, sympathetic. But there was no mistaking the seriousness in her voice. “You and Dayne both.”

  “Walking away, you mean?” This was the sort of deeper conversation she’d wanted to have at the coffee shop. But Ashley had been quiet, and the conversation had shifted to Rhonda’s dismal date.

  The light turned green. Ashley nodded and turned her attention back to the road. “Sometimes life makes love feel next to impossible. It was that way with Landon and me. But Dayne . . . I don’t know, he seems very special.” She hesitated. “I’ll bet you know a side of Dayne that no one else knows, no matter how many times his picture runs in the tabloids.”

  Katy looked out her window and closed her eyes. She could hear the ocean waves one after another hitting the shore, feel Dayne sitting beside her, sense his pain at knowing the Baxters but not being able to contact his siblings. Her eyes opened, and she leaned her head against the cool glass. She turned to Ashley. How strange it was that here beside her was Dayne’s sister. The entire situation was almost more than she could take in. “Yes, I know Dayne very well.”

  “Okay, then.” Ashley’s words came faster now, more determined. “You can’t let go, Katy. You can’t give up just because he’s in show business. There has to be a way to make it work.”

  “That’s what I told myself all those months.” She felt her throat thicken, felt the sorrow building inside her. “But look where that got me.”

  “Does he still call you?”

  “Once in a while. But both of us know there’s no point. He has to live there and make movies, and I have my life here.”

  Ashley looked as if she were about to say something else, but she stopped herself. As they pulled up in front of the Flanigans’, she added only one more thing. “If you love Dayne, you need to beg God for a way.” Her tone was kinder, softer than before, and her eyes glistened with empathy. “That’s what I did with Landon, and look at us now.” She smiled. “Really, Katy, don’t give up. With God at the center, you’ve got to find a way to bridge the distance.”

  Katy nodded. “Pray for us, okay?”

  “I will.”

  She squeezed Ashley’s hand, thanked her, and climbed out of the van. As Ashley backed down the driveway, Katy couldn’t get past the feelings tugging at her subconscious. What if Ashley knew the truth? Could that be why she was so adamant, why she’d brought up Dayne again and made the strong push for Katy to never give up?

  Ashley’s last words rang in Katy’s head as she headed up the steps to the front door: “With God at the center, you’ve got to find a way to bridge the distance.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Ashley’s van as it moved out of sight. Now the question was a simple one, really. Was Ashley referring to Dayne and Katy?

  Or Dayne and herself?

  Ashley was on the cell phone calling her dad as soon as she dropped off Katy. For the past hour she had barely been able to catch her breath. Every time her mind tried to run unbridled toward the wild possibilities, Rhonda or Katy would shoot a question her way, and she’d have to stay in the moment. Yes, it was too bad about the paparazzi; no, she hadn’t known about the near accident with the cameramen chasing them; yes, she understood Rhonda’s thoughts about the difficulty of finding a good guy.

  But all the while she’d wanted to stand up and shout, look Katy in the eyes,
and say, “Tell me the truth . . . is Dayne Matthews my brother?”

  And he had to be, didn’t he? Every piece lined up. Especially his call to her father during the trial. Luke never would’ve forgotten his cell phone—he was way too detail-oriented for that. What had her father said? That he was talking to their older brother often, right? So Dayne had probably called to catch their dad up on the details of the trial.

  Of course Dayne was their brother. It would’ve been why he was in town when he met Katy, why he had chosen Bloomington for his location shoot, and why he’d given her a ride home. If he was her brother, he would’ve been anxious to spend time with her, curious about her life, her family.

  She’d been dying to ask Katy about it through most of the morning. If Rhonda hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But during the ride to the coffee shop, the shock had been too great, and by the time they were headed back to the Flanigans’ house, Ashley had changed her mind. If Katy knew the truth, Dayne would’ve asked her to keep quiet about it, at least until he figured out how to handle the situation. Putting that responsibility on Katy wasn’t fair. Besides, if Dayne was her brother, she didn’t want to find out from Katy. She had Dayne’s number, after all. She could call him or her father.

  That was the answer. She needed to talk to her dad. All her life, Ashley had never been one to mince words. Never had she tiptoed around an issue when the straightforward method was so much more effective. She could call her father and have the answer in a matter of seconds.

  His number was on her speed dial, so it took no time to call his cell. But after three rings, the call went to a message center. The whole time her father’s voice was giving instructions about leaving a message, her mind raced. Should she ask on the phone? Should she hang up and try later?

  Finally she decided on a cross between the two. When the beep sounded, she cleared her throat. “Dad . . . it’s me.” She held tight to the steering wheel with her free hand. “I have a question about our older brother. I found out something today, and I think . . . maybe I know who he is. Maybe not, but maybe.” She tried to breathe, but her lungs wouldn’t fill up. “Call me, Dad. Please.”

  Only after she hung up did her body find a way to inhale. She called the Baxter house and left the same message there. He must’ve been in with patients, that or he was meeting with the other doctors. They were forever having meetings. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. Not quite noon.

  Landon would understand. He’d help her make sense of the information, for sure. She turned into their driveway, parked the van, and rushed inside. Cole was sitting in front of a half-played game of checkers in the family room, but Landon wasn’t around. She dropped her purse on a chair and grinned at him. “Hey, sweetie . . . where’s Daddy?”

  “Putting Devin down.” Cole jumped up and quietly ran to her. “Sorry for shushing you earlier, Mommy. Sometimes us guys get carried away with cowboy movies.”

  “I know, honey.” She stooped to his level and kissed first one cheek, then the other. “That’s okay.” She stood and looked beyond him. She had to talk to Landon. “I’ll be right back.”

  But before she could get down the hall to meet him, he walked into the room. “Hey! How was coffee?”

  She gave Cole a nervous look, then shifted her gaze to her husband. “Can we talk in the kitchen for a minute?”

  Landon’s smile faded. “Sounds serious.”

  Cole skipped back to his checkers game. “I’m ahead, whenever you’re ready for me to beat you!”

  “Okay, buddy.” He kept his tone light, but his eyes never left Ashley’s.

  She hated the look of worry in Landon’s eyes. Where the two of them were concerned, a serious conversation could mean just about anything—and usually something that threatened their relationship, their lives, or both. She tried to give a shake of her head, something to ease the fear in his expression, but the concern only grew as he followed her to the small table near the kitchen’s bay window. The spot where they’d held many conversations.

  “Ash . . . what is it?” He took her hand as they sat in chairs next to each other. “Honey, tell me.”

  “It’s nothing about me or us.” She put her free hand on his cheek. “It’s about my brother. My older brother.” Relief made his shoulders relax, and she watched it work its way through his body. He smiled. “As long as you’re all right.”

  “I am.” She winced. “Sorry for worrying you.”

  “I’m a little fond of you. I can’t have anything happen to you, Ash.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay, now tell me about your brother.”

  She had to make him understand it the way she did, so he could see the possibility. “So I’m at the Flanigan house, and I’m talking to Jenny because Katy’s laundry got all mixed up with Bailey’s and that cost Katy at least ten minutes’ time.” The story picked up speed. “And Jenny tells me Katy’s been sort of down and that she’s really surprised Dayne Matthews didn’t go to opening night because he’s gone before, and it was especially surprising because his birth parents live in Bloomington.” She held out her hands. “Landon, can you believe that?”

  He looked confused, as if she’d been speaking German. “The Flanigan house? Is that the coffee shop?”

  “No.” She tried not to sound as exasperated as she felt. “The Flanigans’, where Katy Hart lives in their garage apartment.”

  The concentration on Landon’s face was the kind usually reserved for puzzles and brain teasers. “Okay, and something about Katy’s laundry, which I think wasn’t the point.”

  “No.” She breathed out hard. “Dayne! The point is Dayne Matthews.”

  “The movie star.” Landon sounded pretty sure of himself, but he couldn’t see the connection.

  “Yes.” Ashley hesitated, willing herself to calm down. “Katy told Jenny that Dayne’s birth parents live here. In Bloomington.”

  Slowly, like dawn on a winter day, the light began to shine in Landon’s eyes. He pointed at Ashley, his brow slightly raised. “And you think . . . you think Dayne might be your brother because his birth parents live in Bloomington, Indiana?”

  “Yes.” She broke free from him and stood, her hands on her hips. “Of course I think that. He looks just like Luke, and during the trial I answered my dad’s cell phone one time and it was Dayne! Calling for my dad!” She impatiently waved her hand in a circle. “Sure, he had some story about calling to pass on a message from Luke, but that doesn’t even make sense.” She made an exasperated sound. “Of course I think he’s our brother. What else could it be?”

  Landon rose, took both her hands this time, and led her back to her chair. “Ashley . . . there’re probably thousands of adoptive parents in the Bloomington area. Thousands.” He brought her fingers close and kissed them. “A lot of guys look like Dayne Matthews. That’s his appeal, sweetie. All-American good looks. And the cell call . . . I don’t know. But you have to admit Luke was there at the trial. It makes sense that Dayne might do him a favor.” He paused. His eyes were full of empathy, but they held no doubt. “Honey, the idea of Dayne Matthews being your biological brother is just, well . . . it’s crazy.”

  “But he must be someone’s biological brother, right? If his birth parents had kids, anyway.”

  “Don’t you think if Dayne was your biological brother that someone would’ve told you by now?” He released her hands and ran his fingers along her arms. “Ash, sweetie, the guy’s been in town because of Katy Hart, and okay, because of his family. He’s probably been meeting with them. If he were your brother, Katy would know and she would’ve told you.”

  Ashley didn’t want his kindness. She wanted him to believe in her, to acknowledge that she wasn’t crazy, that maybe—just maybe—Dayne really was her brother. “But listen.” She searched his eyes, willing him to understand. “Dayne looks just like Luke. Haven’t we all said that? And we know that whoever our older brother is, he has some sort of different life, a life where it could be difficult for him to connect wi
th us, right?” She leaned in closer. “Landon, it’s possible. I really think it is.”

  For the first time, Landon had no easy answer. He sat back and blinked a few times, then made a puzzled face. “Hmm. I forgot about the strange-life thing.” He pondered for a moment. “I guess . . . I guess you could be right.” He looked out the window for a moment and then back at her. “It’s possible. It just sounds crazy.”

  Ashley felt the surge of victory. “It sounds crazy to me too. But the pieces line up.” She stared at the floor near her feet and thought. Suddenly something else hit her. “His birth date! That would tell us something, wouldn’t it?”

  “Before you go that route, how ’bout you call your dad? You said he’s been talking to your brother, so he’d be the one to know.”

  “I left him a couple messages.” She stood and paced to the kitchen stove. “I can’t wait, Landon. I have to know right now.”

  “Daddy . . . ,” Cole called from the next room, “it’s your turn.”

  “Okay, just a minute.” Landon rose and headed toward his checker game. He looked at Ashley before he left. “Wait for your father’s call, Ash.” His smile told her how much he cared, how badly he wanted her to find the answers she was looking for. “You’ve waited months to find out about this. Another few hours won’t hurt.”

  Landon was right. She breathed out and felt the excitement leave her body. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

  But afternoon slipped into evening, and dinnertime led to baths for the boys and stories for Cole. All the while she could think of just one thing: Dayne Matthews might be their brother! By the time the boys were both down, it was nine o’clock.

  Landon pulled her close and kissed her. “I’m going out for milk and bread.” He rocked her slightly, swaying with her the way he sometimes did when he held her. “Do we need anything else?”

  “Sliced cheese.” She drew back and studied him. “Haven’t I waited long enough?” Her voice held a subtle whine. “Landon, I need to know. I have Dayne’s cell number; shouldn’t I just call him?”