Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  This stretch of roadway was one of his favorites, a great place to think, a place where paparazzi didn’t bother to chase, what with the two narrow lanes and the sharp curves. Always it was a great place for sorting through and prioritizing, for thinking over life’s choices.

  But tonight . . . tonight Dayne had only questions. He grabbed a piece of mint gum from the console, unwrapped it, and popped it between his lips. There was no one in the canyon, so he moved faster than usual. God . . . what are the answers? Every day I’m tempted to get on a plane and leave all this behind. So, tell me . . . if I’m supposed to let go of Katy and the Baxters, how do I convince my heart?

  He paused, wanting the gentle voice, the quiet stirring in his soul, the assurance that God would help him figure things out. At that moment his cell phone sprang to life, vibrating from where it was plugged in to the cigarette lighter. With practiced ease, he unhooked it from the cord, flipped it open, and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Dayne . . . it’s Bob.” The connection was clear, unusual for Malibu Canyon. “How’re you doing?”

  Bob Asher, his missionary friend. The one who had known him longer than anyone. The one who had led him to Christ during a street service in Mexico City a few months back. “Your timing’s amazing, friend.”

  “Good.” Bob chuckled. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was either call or lose a perfectly good night of sleep.” His tone was relaxed. “What’s going on?”

  Dayne groaned. “My heart and body, man. They’re living in different time zones.”

  “Hmm.” The line remained clear, even in the heart of the canyon. “I wondered about that. I went online and saw some of the tabloids. Katy Hart, she’s back in Bloomington, right?”

  “Right.” Dayne pressed his lips together. He came up behind a slow delivery truck and eased off the gas. “We’ve got four days off, and all I want to do is get on the next plane to Indiana.” He made a sound that was more frustration than laugh. “But then what? All the things that have taken us in different directions would still be in place.”

  “True.” The lightheartedness in Bob’s voice faded. “I had a feeling about this, once you told me about the near accident. She doesn’t want to be at the center of a tabloid spread, right?”

  “No.” Dayne heard anger creep into his tone. “I don’t want her there either. It’s not her.”

  “And the Baxters?”

  Dayne was at the part of the canyon where cell calls were almost impossible, but still the connection was clear. “I’ve been talking to my dad, and then one of my sisters calls. She wants me to come to Bloomington on the Fourth of July. Only all I can picture is that the lives they’re living will never be the same again if I do. All because of some curiosity we have about meeting each other.”

  For a while, Bob said nothing. When he spoke, his words were slow and measured. “It’s more than a curiosity, Dayne.”

  “I don’t know.” He worked his gum a few times. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because—” Bob paused—“last time we talked you called him John.”

  Dayne frowned. What was Bob talking about? He rounded a corner and saw the familiar straightaway ahead and Pacific Coast Highway beyond that. “What did I call him this time?”

  “You called him Dad.”

  An awareness dawned in Dayne’s heart. His friend was right. He’d been thinking that way lately. A conversation with John Baxter would play in his head, and he’d think of him as a father, not merely a man who had a part in bringing him into the world. His throat tightened. “See?” He forced a laugh, but only so he wouldn’t cry. “I’m more confused than even I know. More questions than answers, no matter how much I pray.”

  “Okay, listen.” Bob exhaled hard. “Your director gave you four days off, right?”

  “Right.” Dayne eased his foot onto the brake and took the left turn at PCH. His house was only a mile or so south of the busy intersection.

  “Matthews, you’ve got all the money in the world. Ditch the paparazzi and get on a plane to some beautiful remote beach. Do it tomorrow. Spend two days staring at the water and making a list.”

  “A list?” Dayne shifted in his seat, open to the possibility.

  “Yes. A list of what matters most in your life.”

  “Okay.” He pictured himself taking two days on a beach to think things through. The idea was sounding better with every heartbeat. “So I figure out what matters most and then what?”

  There was a smile in Bob’s voice. “Then you spend the rest of your life going after it.”

  The plans came together quickly, and Dayne was still tempted to switch gates and board a plane for the Midwest, instead of one to Mexico. But he’d found a rental house south of Cancún, a luxury three-bedroom far from the touristy areas.

  He pulled out one of his disguises for the travel day—a baseball cap with straggly blond hair sticking out along the back. Kelly Parker had given it to him as a prank gift, and he’d never worn it. What was the point? It would buy him only a day or two of sanity. But if he wanted to be alone, there was no time like today to wear it.

  Between that, his worn backpack, brown earthy sandals, and his oversized sunglasses, he managed to maneuver Los Angeles International Airport without being recognized. He slept most of the way to Cancún and hired a taxi to take him to a grocery store and then to his rental house.

  He put away his food, and the moment he stepped out onto the beach he knew. Bob Asher was right. This was where he needed to be. No cell phone, no connection to the world back in Hollywood. Just God and him and his own private stretch of paradise.

  He wore a loose tank top and a pair of shorts, and for the first evening—until sunset—he found a chair on the beach and read his Bible. Psalm 119 and the importance of God’s word, His truth. Then he read Matthew chapters five through seven, the entire Sermon on the Mount. With the gentle lull of the surf in the background, he suddenly felt like he was there, watching Jesus, listening to His powerful words.

  Finally he read Ecclesiastes. Again he felt himself connecting. King Solomon was one of the wisest men of his day. Maybe ever. And still he pondered the fact that wealth and success and the trappings of life were meaningless.

  Dayne returned to the house, ate halibut and salad, and slept hard that night. When morning dawned—the sky the bluest ever—he woke with a purpose.

  It was time to make the list.

  He found his spot on the sand and set his Bible, notebook, pen, and a bottle of water on a towel beside him. For an hour he stared at the open sea. God, bring me into Your presence, fill me with Your Holy Spirit so I can know my priorities. My career, my commitments? Or the woman I love? My visibility as an actor or a relationship with the Baxters?

  The longer he prayed, the more he felt God stirring his heart, changing his soul. What was fame, anyway?

  A string of situations paraded across his mind, aspects of being a celebrity that he didn’t want to dwell on. A month ago, one of his actor buddies spent an evening with a well-known millionaire heiress. They went to a movie premiere and were just leaving, just making their way to a waiting limousine when five hooded figures ran up and threw sacks of flour at them.

  Tabloid photographers—always on hand—caught the entire incident on film and ran the pictures in all the tabloids later that week. Police at the event caught the perpetrators and later announced that they were members of an activist group determined to make a statement about Hollywood’s use of animal fur for coats and clothing.

  The heiress hadn’t been wearing anything with fur, and certainly Dayne’s actor friend hadn’t killed an animal for its coat. Still, they’d borne the brunt of the attack. Together with Dayne’s stalker incident, the truth was chilling: celebrities were always potentially in danger, the same way their friends and spouses were in danger.

  It was the reason so many of his friends were hiring bodyguards. One very visible couple—neighbors of Dayne’s—had two kids and another on th
e way. As the woman’s due date neared, the couple had hired additional bodyguards. Dayne had asked the guy about it once. “Looks like you’ve got the Raiders’ offensive line following you around.”

  “You know why?”

  Dayne was pretty sure he did. “You don’t want flour thrown in your face?”

  “No.” His friend’s voice sounded strained. “I could take that. It’s the kids I’m worried about.”

  “The kids?”

  “We’ve been getting threats. From different people.” The actor sighed. “Kidnappers figure we’d pay millions to get one of our kids back.”

  A team of bodyguards so their kids wouldn’t get taken? The thought made Dayne sick. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s reality. We’ll spend way over seven figures on bodyguards this year.”

  Reality? Dayne shuddered. Living in Malibu, working in Hollywood, having cameras forever clicking, and spending more than a million dollars to live life from inside a circle of bodyguards?

  For the next several hours, through lunch and into the afternoon, Dayne thought about the life he’d been living since his first big movie. His agents and the studio, the directors he worked for—all of them would say that being a movie star was important, that it belonged somewhere high on his list of what mattered.

  But then he pictured himself sitting next to Katy that long-ago afternoon high in the stadium at Indiana University, golden sunlight shining in her hair. He could win an Oscar, but it wouldn’t compare to the way he felt with her that day, the way he felt with her every time they were together.

  Even so, he could never, ever put her life in danger because of his job.

  Dayne scanned the sea and saw a pair of dolphins break through the surface, push high into the air, and dive back down. The sun was slipping behind the house, and shade covered most of the beach, making the ocean sparkle brilliantly in contrast.

  Suddenly God’s presence around him felt more real than the sugary white sand beneath his feet. This was what Jesus did, wasn’t it? He drew away and found a quiet place to pray, to think.

  Dayne grabbed the notebook, opened it, and reached for the pen. Then, as if a floodgate of common sense had been released in him, as if God Himself were moving his fingers, he began to write. Peace filled him, sharpening his thoughts and clearing his vision. The list wasn’t that hard really. Here in the solitude, what mattered most was obvious. In fact, it was as clear as the blue green Cancún waters.

  As he finished his list, a deep resolve came over him, and he made a decision. He didn’t need another full day alone in Cancún. The list he’d made required action and phone calls, finality and determination. In the days to come he’d need to have conversations that would change his life, no matter how difficult they might be. He stood and tucked the notebook under his arm. He’d made the list Bob had asked him to make.

  Now it was time to spend the rest of his life going after it.

  Ashley was quiet on the ride to her father’s house. Landon seemed to sense her feelings, and without saying a word he covered her hand with his and gave her a concerned smile.

  In the backseat, Cole was talking to baby Devin. “I’ll catch extra frogs for you, Devin.” His voice wasn’t as singsong as it had been a year ago. Being an older brother had changed him, made him take a giant step toward growing up.

  Ashley listened, filled with a combination of pride and sadness. She was awed at how well he’d taken to his new role, but watching Cole grow up would never be easy.

  Devin cooed from his car seat.

  “I know.” Cole’s tone was earnest. “I like frogs too. But wait till your legs work and you can see the fish in Papa’s pond! They’re amazing!”

  Next to her, Landon smiled. “I love listening to him.”

  A soft laugh played on her lips. “Me too.”

  Landon turned onto her father’s street. “You’re quiet today.”

  “Yes.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at the farmland that stretched on either side of the two-lane highway. “Dayne hasn’t called.”

  “Mmm.” He patted her hand. “I thought it was that.”

  Ashley spotted the old Baxter house. She shook her head. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing. We don’t care if he’s a movie star. Big deal. He was a Baxter long before he was a celebrity.”

  Landon looked like he wanted to say something, but he held back.

  “What?” She kept her voice down, but she heard the cry in it. “He was a Baxter. Don’t you think so?”

  “In some ways.” Landon drove up the driveway and parked in his usual spot. He turned off the engine and looked at her. “If you’re talking bloodlines, yes, he’s a Baxter.” There was empathy in his eyes, empathy and a caring that came from the core of who he was. “But, honey, Dayne Matthews isn’t a Baxter the way you’re thinking. He’s had . . . well, a completely different life from any of the rest of you.”

  Ashley remained quiet. She loved this about Landon, that he could see deep inside her and kindly call her way of thinking into question.

  He glanced at the boys. Cole was talking about how to bait a fishing pole. His eyes met hers again. “He’s concerned about all of us losing our privacy, right?”

  “Yes.” Ashley wanted to add her thoughts that Dayne was wrong to worry about privacy and that she doubted they’d even have issues with the tabloids, but she wanted Landon to finish.

  “Okay, so maybe he’s decided the trade-off isn’t worth it. Risking our privacy all so he can meet up with us a few times a year and realizing every hour he’s with us that he has none of our shared memories, no understanding of the trials and tragedies and triumphs this family has been through.” Landon brought his fingers to her face and gently touched her cheekbone. “All so maybe he can come to the tougher realization. In every way that matters, he’s not really a Baxter at all.”

  “Landon . . .” Ashley felt her eyes grow wide. “Is that what you think? That he wouldn’t fit in? That he wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t feel accepted by us?”

  “No.” A still greater kindness shone in his eyes. “Not at all.” He hesitated. “But maybe that’s what Dayne’s thinking.”

  She breathed out long and slow. “Oh.” Defeat danced across the waters of her heart. “I guess I can’t believe he’d really think that.” She looked at her lap, trying to imagine the possibility.

  “Honey, your dad’s waiting for us.” He made a move toward the door. “Let’s talk about it later.”

  She swallowed her sorrow and disappointment. If only Dayne would call. Even though it was almost the end of June, it wasn’t too late. He could jump on a plane without notice, because he’d done it before. Whenever he needed to talk to Katy.

  They helped the boys out of the car. She placed Devin in his stroller while Cole bolted for the front porch.

  Before he reached it, Ashley’s father stepped out. “Cole, my boy!” He held out his arms.

  Cole ran, and the two came together in a swing-you-around-in-a-circle hug only her father could give.

  Landon pushed the stroller and met them as they headed into the yard toward the pond. “Come on, Devin. Let’s see if Cole can catch you a frog.”

  Ashley moved slowly toward the porch and sat in the swing, the one her parents had always shared. The place where she’d come late at night when the trauma of being a teenager was more than she could take. She set the swing in motion and watched the action near the pond.

  She thought about Katy and how she knew the truth now. They’d gone walking a few days ago, and Ashley had told Katy about her talk with Dayne. Ashley closed her eyes, and the moment returned. They’d walked around the track at Clear Creek High School, Ashley pushing Devin in the stroller. At first she’d only hinted, wondering if Katy would pick up on where the conversation was headed.

  Finally Ashley figured it was better to be straightforward. When there was a break in the conversation, she drew a deep breath. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

 
They kept walking, but Katy looked at her, probably surprised by her tone. “Okay.”

  Ashley took a few more steps, then stopped. “I know Dayne’s my brother.”

  The moment she said it, Katy came to a halt. She swayed, and for a moment it looked as if she might fall to the ground. But then Katy swallowed hard and blinked. “How . . . did you find out?”

  “Jenny.” Ashley smiled and explained the situation.

  When she was finished, Katy looked dizzy. “I thought you were acting strange that day.”

  “I could barely breathe.” Ashley pushed the stroller, and the two of them started walking again. “Once I knew Dayne was adopted and that his birth parents lived in Bloomington, I remembered the phone call.”

  “Phone call?” Katy still looked a shade paler than before.

  “During the trial. Dayne called my dad’s cell, and when I answered, he made something up, something about calling to pass on a message from Luke.” Ashley tossed up one hand. “I saved his number, of course. Because you never know when you might need Dayne Matthews’ cell phone number.”

  Katy giggled. “You didn’t!”

  Ashley explained about her call to Dayne and how it felt to finally know the identity of her brother.

  Katy apologized for not saying anything, but Dayne had asked her not to. “Besides, I only found out who his family was the week of the trial.”

  They spent the rest of their walk talking about Dayne and the way his lifestyle had trapped him. Ashley didn’t mention her invitation to Dayne for the Fourth of July or the fact that he seemed determined—for Katy’s safety and privacy—to walk away from her as well as from all of them. Those issues needed to be worked out between the two of them.

  Ashley opened her eyes, and the memory lifted. She gave the swing a light push with her feet and found her guys by the pond. Her father looked twenty years younger than he had a year ago, and Ashley wondered. He knew that she’d talked to Dayne. An hour after she hung up the phone with her older brother, she finally got ahold of her father and told him about the call.