Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  2. Next, contact me at my Web site, www.KarenKingsbury.com. E-mail me with the subject line: Shared a Book. In the body of the e-mail, tell me the first name of the person you shared my book with and why you felt compelled to share it. Also include your contact information. This will enter you into the drawing.

  What you win:

  1. A trip to the Pacific Northwest, where you and a friend will spend a day with me and my family.

  2. A collection of autographed Karen Kingsbury books.

  By doing these two simple steps, you will automatically be entered into a drawing. If you share one of my books with more than one person, please feel free to enter each time. I will choose a winner each March until further notice. You can check www.KarenKingsbury.com to make sure this contest is still ongoing.

  I pray this finds you healthy and happy and drawing closer to the families you’re a part of. As for me, I’m taking time to play some Frisbee with my kids today. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to hug them a little in the process.

  Until next time, in His light and love,

  Karen Kingsbury

  From

  Forever

  by Karen Kingsbury

  Chapter One

  There were moments when the sun shone so brightly on her life that Katy Hart could barely stand beneath it. Moments when she would be getting ready for a day of Christian Kids Theater rehearsals or folding laundry or filling her tank with gas and she’d have to check her ring finger. Just to be sure it had really happened.

  Dayne Matthews had asked her to marry him.

  She opened the door to her apartment, stepped inside, and exhaled. She’d spent the afternoon and evening with the Flanigans, first shopping with Jenny and then having dinner and watching a movie with the family. Now she wanted to be upstairs when Dayne called, the way he called every night around this time. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a minute.

  Overnight God had taken her life from foggy uncertainty to crystal clear panoramas. She and Dayne wanted a simple wedding on the shore of Lake Monroe. He had already met with a wedding planner in Hollywood, a woman known for her brilliance at pulling off secret ceremonies, events the paparazzi never figured out until they were over.

  The job would be a tough one, and Katy had resigned herself to the possibility that the press might find out, that helicopters could circle overhead and cameramen could infiltrate the trees along the lake to get a picture. Whatever. They’d already dragged her name across the cover of the tabloids.

  She was marrying Dayne Matthews. Soon the whole world would know anyway.

  They hadn’t picked a date, but spring seemed perfect. Bloomington was beautiful in April and May. Dayne would have time to film one more movie by then, and it would allow enough time to find a wedding dress and figure out the reception, time to fly to Chicago and talk to her parents about the plans. Dayne had told her they didn’t have a budget, but Katy wanted something simple and elegant, something she could find in Indianapolis as easily as in New York City.

  It was the third week of July, which meant they had eight or nine months. Not much time considering how busy they would be in their separate lives over the next few months. Dayne was working six-day weeks filming his current movie in Los Angeles, the romance film with Academy Award–winning actress Randi Wells. And Katy needed to sort through the scripts for the lineup of plays slated for CKT’s coming year. Sometimes she felt dizzy with everything that had happened in the last two weeks.

  Katy sighed. Yes, the sun was shining brighter than ever in her life.

  She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. As she headed for bed, the phone rang. She darted across the room, grabbed the receiver, and bounced onto the mattress. The caller ID told her what she already knew. It was Dayne. She hit the Talk button. “Hey.”

  “Mmmm.” He sounded tired, lonely, but even so she could practically see his eyes dancing. “Do you know how good that feels?”

  “What?” An intimacy filled her voice, one that was reserved for him alone.

  “Hearing you, knowing you’re at the other end of the line.” He drew a slow breath. “I look forward to this minute all day long.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  They talked about his day, and eventually that led to Dayne’s recent conversation with his missionary friend Bob Asher. “God’s making it all so clear—the future and how it’s supposed to play out.”

  Katy thought about the weeks and months when the future had seemed anything but clear. During Dayne’s involvement with Kabbalah or his time with Kelly Parker. “There were days I didn’t think we’d ever be here.”

  “I know.” He was quiet for a moment. “I thank God every night, Katy. Every night.”

  The topic shifted again, and he told her about the movie he was making. The director still believed they had a major hit on their hands, and a buzz had started that maybe this was the film that would earn Dayne his first Academy Award. That led to talk about the paparazzi and how a reporter for Celebrity Life magazine was getting closer to the truth about the identity of Dayne’s birth family.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Katy leaned back against her headboard. “They’ll find out one day anyway.”

  “Not now, though. Not before the wedding.”

  They talked about the Baxters, how Ashley had accepted the role of assistant director for CKT’s coming season and how the other Baxters were excited about Thanksgiving, when the whole family would be together for the first time.

  Dayne steered the conversation back to the two of them. “Have you found it?” His voice held depth and tenderness, a tone that told her how much he missed her.

  “What?” She glanced at a photo of them on her nightstand.

  “Our house. I keep thinking you’ll call and tell me you found it.”

  Katy sat up and crossed her legs. “You’re serious?”

  “Of course.” An easy laugh came from him. “If you like it, I’ll like it.”

  “But . . .” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Shouldn’t you be here?”

  “You find it and I’ll fly out and take a look. How’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” If he were any other guy, she’d ask him about their price range. But that wouldn’t be an issue with Dayne—something else that would take adjusting to. “I know we talked about it before, but really, Dayne, you should be here. You said near the lake, but do you want acreage or a smaller place closer to town?”

  “Not near the lake.” He chuckled. “On the lake. A big yard and a sweeping porch.”

  She grinned. “I told you . . . lakefront property is almost nonexistent. Something near the lake, maybe. But on it?”

  “I can dream, can’t I?” He laughed again. “Okay. Eventually I want to be on the lake, but for now it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you we can pitch a tent in the Baxters’ backyard. Which we might have to do if you don’t start looking.”

  “All right, I get it. I’ll look.” She gazed at her ring and adjusted her left hand so the diamond sparkled in the light. “I’ll start tomorrow. I have a CKT meeting at Ashley’s house; then I’ll drive around the lake and see what’s for sale.” The task ahead still felt daunting, but if Dayne trusted her, that was all that mattered.

  “No pressure, Katy. As long as we’re in Bloomington . . .” She could almost see his smile over the phone line. “Although . . . I have this props job I’m interested in, so I should probably be pretty close to the theater.”

  She giggled. Gone were the sad, drawn-out conversations between them. Instead they were always laughing, always playing. She tried to sound more official. “If the director hires you, you mean.”

  “True.” He paused. “But see, I know her. Got her wrapped around my finger.”

  “Is that right?” She held the phone closer. If only they didn’t have so long to wait until they were together again.

  “Yep.” His tone changed just enough to let her know this next part was serious. “Bu
t not nearly like I’m wrapped around hers.” He hesitated. “By the way, my director says I’m more convincing than ever.” Dayne’s voice filled with tenderness. It felt like he was sitting beside her. “Can you believe that?”

  “Must be Randi Wells.” Katy was teasing. Dayne obviously wasn’t interested in his costar, though at first the tabloids questioned an offscreen romance. He had kept things so platonic that after a few weeks of filming, the gossip rags did an about-face and hinted at feuding between the two.

  “You know what it is, right?”

  “What?”

  “It’s you.” His tone changed, and she could almost hear his beating heart. “I’ve never been in love before . . . so how could I have been convincing?”

  She sighed. “How am I going to survive until I see you again?”

  “If you figure it out, let me know.”

  Katy opened her mouth. She was about to suggest that maybe she could come out for a weekend, stay at a local hotel, and at least share a few days with him between weeks of filming. But the last time she’d been in Los Angeles the paparazzi had chased them and nearly caused a major collision. Dayne had made it clear: until they were married, they needed to do their visiting in Bloomington. She would’ve suggested he break away for a visit, but during filming there was often weekend work. They’d have to wait until his film wrapped up.

  They talked for another half hour, dreaming out loud about their wedding and the days ahead.

  When the call ended, Katy turned off the light and lay back on her pillow. For a long time she stared into the dark, replaying the conversation and missing Dayne. Maybe she would fly to Los Angeles anyway. Show up on his set and surprise him. If they didn’t run from the paparazzi, maybe they could avoid a chase. She was still thinking about the possibility when she fell asleep.

  It was Saturday morning, a few minutes before eight, and Dayne had three paparazzi cars on his tail. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. He had tried the usual tricks, turning into a couple gas stations along the way and taking side streets. But nothing worked. They were on high alert today—probably bored. All of Hollywood’s A-listers were minding their manners and staying out of the limelight. The tabs were rabid for a story—any story.

  And this morning, the story was Dayne.

  Halfway to the diner he gave up and fell in line with the rest of the traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. His packed bag was in the back of his Escalade, ready for his quick exit on the private jet. No question he wanted to lose the photographers by then. If they figured out he was using private air travel, they’d find out where he was going. And that would ruin the privacy he wanted between now and the wedding.

  He parked in the diner’s lot, climbed out, and shut the door. Behind him he heard the squeal of tires as the three cars raced into the parking lot. Dayne didn’t turn around. Instead he spotted Randi sitting on the restaurant’s patio overlooking the ocean. She wore a wide-brimmed hat and oversize white sunglasses.

  He lowered his head and made his way through the restaurant out onto the patio. He took the spot opposite Randi and let out a frustrated breath. “The scavengers followed me.” He planted his elbows on the table and stared at the menu in front of him. “Not a minute’s peace.” He looked back at the door. “Maybe we should eat inside.”

  “No.” She smiled. “They’ll think we’re hiding something.”

  “True.” His frustration ate at him.

  “Hey—” she touched his arm—“don’t worry about it. They think we’re fighting, remember?” She looked over her shoulder at the cameramen.

  They were out of their cars, resting on their back bumpers or sitting on their trunks, camera bags open, already aiming lenses in their direction.

  She looked back at Dayne. “What are they going to say? ‘Dayne and Randi Back on Good Terms’? That could only help the film, right?”

  “I guess.” He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. The weather forecast was clear, which meant it should be a smooth flight. Just a few hours and he’d be in Bloomington with Katy.

  They’d talked last night, and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. “You’re going to love the show,” she’d told him. “Bailey finally got serious. She’s amazing. Wait till you see it.”

  Dayne gritted his teeth and lifted his eyes to Randi. “Don’t they ever get tired of chasing people, capturing their every move for the tabloids?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.” Randi took a sip of her water and maintained her smile. Anyone whose face was in the magazines on a weekly basis knew better than to frown when a camera was pointed at her. Randi was a professional. If she had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t let them catch her coughing or sneezing or frowning. She rested her forearms on the linen-covered table. “We’ll keep our hands to ourselves, and everyone will win.”

  Dayne felt himself start to relax. She was right. The press thought he and Randi were fighting. Why not share a public breakfast on the beach, let the cameras catch them laughing and talking like old friends? Pictures like that would be good for the film.

  The conversation shifted as they ordered and waited for their food. Dayne looked for an opening, a chance to bring God into the conversation. Randi was talking about her husband and how the two of them had planned to have a monogamous relationship, but that had changed after the kids came.

  “I had a feeling six months ago that there was trouble.” She lowered her chin and poked at her omelet. Egg whites and spinach, no cheese. The sort of breakfast that kept Randi in her size-two jeans. “He told me he was considering an affair.”

  Dayne felt sick to his stomach. “He told you that?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Randi lifted her glass and took hold of the straw with her lips. After taking a sip, she swirled the ice in small circles. “He said sometimes an affair brings new life to an old marriage.”

  “Old . . .” Dayne turned his head for a moment and gave a sad laugh. As he did, he noticed the commotion in the parking lot. The three paparazzi cars had easily become a dozen. Every photographer had a camera trained on the two of them. Even with the backdrop of crashing surf and seagulls, he could hear the constant clicking. He tried to put it out of his mind as he turned back to Randi. “Old? You’ve been married four years.”

  “I know.” She sounded defeated.

  “Do you know how many guys would love to be in his spot? Guys who would love you the rest of your life?”

  Randi leveled her gaze at him, and through her lightly tinted sunglasses he could see the depth in her eyes. “Not you, though, right? You’re off the market.”

  “I am.” He refused to let the conversation turn toward the two of them. “But your husband’s wrong. Having an affair isn’t the answer.”

  She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “What is?”

  Here was his chance to be a light, like he’d read about in the Bible earlier that week. He took a swig of his coffee and set his cup down. “The answer is God, Randi. Placing your faith in Him.” His tone was serious. He was tired of dancing around the truth. If Randi didn’t understand, so be it. At least he would’ve done what he was supposed to do. “Forever’s what God’s all about.”

  “Hmm.” She looked like she might reach across the table and take hold of his fingers. But then she glanced at the parking lot and stopped herself. She lowered her hands to her lap and smiled at him. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” She paused, studying him. “You’re a strange one, Dayne, but here’s what’s funny: I think you really mean it. About God.”

  He felt a surge of joy. She was listening, really listening. He kept his composure. “I do. Even here in Hollywood you can find that faith. I’ll help you.”

  She nodded. “I might just take you up on that.”

  They ate the rest of their breakfast, both of them doing their best to take small bites and maintain their smiles, acting as if they couldn’t see the cameras following every move they made.

  “We should
’ve had breakfast at your place,” she said.

  “Yeah, that would look good. Randi Wells, struggling in her marriage, spends the morning at Dayne’s beach house. The press would have a field day.”

  “Sometimes I think we care too much what the press thinks.”

  “I do too. I read the other day how some top model stopped and gave a bunch of photographers a box of Popsicles. Every rag in town ran the story.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So maybe that’s the answer.” Dayne settled back in his seat and checked the time. “Hey, I have to run.”

  “I’ll follow you out toward the airport. That way I can take a sharp turn before you get there. I’m the one with the rocky marriage. If they have a choice, they’ll follow me.”

  “You might be right. They’ll think I’m headed home.” He stood and left a couple twenties for the bill. If the photographers hadn’t been watching, he would’ve hugged her. The conversation had gone better than he hoped. Randi cared. And someday maybe she’d give her life to God.

  They walked out of the restaurant to their vehicles, and Dayne waved at the throng of photographers. “Nice morning, huh?”

  “Does this mean you and Randi are friends again?” one of them shouted over his camera.

  “What about your husband, Randi? Does he know you had breakfast with Dayne Matthews?”

  Randi laughed and shrugged in Dayne’s direction. Then for the sake of the photographers, in a loud voice she said, “So you’re going home?”

  “Yeah. I need an hour in my home gym. You?” He loved this, the chance they had to trick the tabloids.

  “I have that meeting.” She pretended to look upset, as if she’d let something slip that never should’ve slipped with paparazzi listening.

  The photographers jumped on the moment.

  “What meeting?”

  “Are you seeing someone else already?”

  “Is it the film’s director?”

  “Does your husband know?”

  Randi held up her hand and gave a look of mock frustration. Then she turned to Dayne. “Thanks for breakfast.”