From the time he and Elizabeth bought this house, they’d been grateful for the fire hydrant. There weren’t many along Dillman Road, but the one the firemen were using now sat right at the end of his driveway. Without it, the firefighters would’ve had to connect hoses from two or three houses away, and they would’ve certainly lost the Baxter house in the process.
One after another his kids began arriving. Ashley must’ve called Kari and Brooke, and in no time the whole family knew, the way they always knew about any event that affected one of them. The looks on their faces broke his heart. They huddled in a small bunch—Ashley and the boys, Kari and Ryan and their kids, and Brooke. Peter had stayed home with the girls, and Luke was away on business again. Reagan called, though, and John promised to let her know how things turned out. Ashley took care of calling Dayne and Katy and Erin and Sam and leaving them messages.
“Has anyone been inside?” Ashley had tears on her cheeks. “Tell me we can still save it.”
Smoke hung thick in the air, and before John could answer her, Landon trudged over. He had smears of soot along both cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. “God was with us. I could feel Him today.”
John was afraid to ask, but Brooke stepped up and searched Landon’s face. “Is any of it salvageable?”
“Yeah, Daddy.” Cole had his arm around Ashley’s waist. His eyes were wide with fear and admiration for his father. “You saved it, right?”
Despite the exhaustion in his expression, Landon’s face lit up with the most wonderful smile. “We sure did, buddy.” He turned to John. “We contained it completely. When the house was built, someone used firewall material to separate the attic from the garage.” He wiped his hand across his brow and coughed a few times. “It was an inferno in the attic, and the garage is flooded. But the rest of the house only has minimal smoke damage.”
The words washed over him. Minimal smoke damage? The entire place had looked like an inferno when he pulled into the driveway. John wanted to close the distance between himself and his son-in-law and wrap him in a big hug. But Cole and Ashley and Devin surrounded him, and Landon was already backing up, needing to return to the other firefighters. Instead John stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned at Landon. “You know what this means?”
“Yeah . . . I get first dibs on bait this Saturday.”
John laughed. “Exactly.”
After the fire trucks left and the other family members had gone home, John and Landon went into the house and moved from one room to the other, opening windows. Miraculously, Landon’s assessment was accurate. The smell of smoke was strong in the house, but nothing was charred and there was no permanent damage.
“You can get a cleaning crew out here, and the place’ll be as good as new.”
“That and a new roof and attic.” John shook his head, astounded at all the firefighters had salvaged. “Who made the call?”
“The neighbor on your right. Mrs. McCarry. She was canning blueberries when she looked out the window and saw smoke.”
John reminded himself to visit Edna McCarry and thank her.
Landon was explaining the rest of the story. “If she’d been another few minutes later, we would’ve lost the whole house. It was that close.”
“What caused it?” John couldn’t imagine how a fire would’ve started in his attic. He hadn’t been up there for a year at least.
“Looks like a wiring problem. Probably a few squirrels in the attic. Once they start gnawing at wires, the situation gets dangerous pretty quickly.” Landon directed John back outside and around the house to the side where the damage was the greatest. “You’ll need new siding on most of this wall, but mostly because of smoke and water damage to the exterior. Of course, you’ll need a new interior on your garage.”
“But the insurance will cover that.”
“Tell you what . . . how about you get your things and stay with us tonight. You’ll need a few days for the smoke to clear from the inside.”
Emotion welled up in John’s chest, and he studied Landon, overwhelmed. This time he hugged him hard, the way men hugged each other after surviving a battle together. John had cared about Landon long before Ashley let down her guard enough to love him. Suddenly as he held tight to Landon, John could see the young man again the way he’d looked in the hospital room years ago, the day he went into a burning house and saved the life of a little boy. Landon had nearly died, but God had other plans—plans for Landon to marry Ashley, to be a father to Cole, and to raise a family with her.
And even plans for him to save the Baxter house.
John stepped back and found his voice again. “You go ahead and join your family. I’ll be over in half an hour.”
When Landon was gone, John stood outside and studied the section of his roof that had been destroyed by the flames. In a month, with new paint and roofing, new drywall in the garage, no one would ever know the fire had happened. Tears stung his eyes for the first time that night, and he covered his face. Thank You, God. You spared my home, my memories.
A voice clear and distinct whispered deep inside him, My dear son, all good things are from God. . . . Your memories are not contained in a building. They are a gift you carry with you.
Gradually, a certainty filled John’s soul, and he stayed there, his face covered, while the answer worked its way through him. He’d been fretting almost constantly about his home, wondering how he could move forward in his relationship with Elaine when to do so might mean giving up the old Baxter house.
But now, on the evening when the place almost burned to the ground, God had given him wisdom to understand what the walls and ceilings and flooring really meant. He dropped his hands to his sides and moved to the edge of the house. Then he put his fingers against the siding and ran his thumb along the rough painted exterior. Wood and cement and glass and roofing tile. That’s what the place amounted to.
He gripped the piece of siding and closed his eyes. God wanted him to understand something today. His memories did not need a house in order to stay vibrantly alive. They would live inside him as long as he had a heartbeat. If the Baxter place had burned to the ground, his memories would not have gone up in smoke. They might lose photographs, but the pictures Elizabeth had trained him to take—the mental pictures—would live on as long as he had the ability to remember.
No kitchen table was needed to see the look on Elizabeth’s face when she returned from taking one or another of their kids to their first day of kindergarten. And John didn’t need the front door to see her breezing into the house, her arms full of groceries, her eyes dancing with light and life. The house was warm and lovely, and he was fond of it the way he might be fond of a best friend. But suddenly, with every cell in his body, he knew he didn’t need the wood and beams to be happy.
He needed his children and grandchildren. And he needed the woman who had become his dearest companion. He patted the piece of siding and took a few steps back. He would ask Elaine to marry him. Then, if she said yes, he would do what he’d been dreading for months.
He would put the Baxter house up for sale.
Dayne had been in Mexico for nearly two weeks when the one-day break in action happened. Now he was in a rented Suburban, driving back from the airport with Luke riding shotgun next to him. His brother was in high spirits, and Dayne was looking forward to their time together.
“This is the life.” Luke’s window was rolled down, and he breathed in deep. “You can smell the ocean air from here.”
“It’s so much warmer than it is in LA.” Dayne felt a lazy grin tug at his lips. “Makes me want to bring Katy back here when the movie wraps.”
Luke leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, how are things with Katy? I mean, really?”
“Not as bad as the tabloids want you to think.” The laughter left Dayne’s voice. It was like this every time he had a conversation with someone he knew well. Especially family. Everyone wanted to know what truth—if any—was in the stories dominating the headlines. Trying
to convince everyone all the time got old, like everything about his role as a celebrity.
“I sort of wondered.” Luke made a nervous face. “I mean, it can’t be easy telling Randi Wells you’re not interested.”
Dayne lowered his brow. Luke’s comment seemed strangely out of place. After all, he was a Baxter. He’d been raised to be a man of God, a faithful husband. “It’s pretty easy when you know where your priorities are.” Dayne glanced at him. “Put yourself in my place.”
Luke shook his head and gave a dramatic huff. “That’s what I mean. I wouldn’t want to be in your place. Way too much temptation.”
Dayne kept his eyes on the road ahead, but he had a sinking feeling that Luke and Reagan might be in even more trouble than he’d guessed. Before he could bring it up, Luke asked another question, keeping the attention on Dayne. “So how often do you talk, you and Katy?”
“The goal is several times a week.” Dayne was distracted by Luke’s attitude. “It’s tough because it’s seven hours ahead in London. I finish shooting for the day, and it’s usually the very early hours of the morning there. By the time she’s up and moving around, I’m usually in bed.”
“But she’s . . . you know, she’s okay with all the stuff people are saying about you and Randi?”
Dayne was beginning to feel irritated. “Let’s get one thing straight.” He peered out the window at the blue sky and puffy white clouds, at the swaying palm trees and expanse of ocean. “This might feel like a paradise island, but to me it’s a movie set. Randi and I have nothing going on.” He allowed a sarcastic laugh. “The director’s worried we don’t have enough chemistry.”
“But . . . you and Randi . . . you used to date, right?”
“That was a lifetime ago.” He held his breath and released it in a rush. “The tabloids think this movie shoot will be the death of my marriage. But it won’t be. Katy and I are stronger than ever.”
“The magazines run photos of you and Randi every week.”
“Of course.” Dayne laughed so he wouldn’t yell at Luke before their visit even really got started. “We’re starring in a movie together. Every time we stand next to each other someone takes our picture.” He lifted one eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean we’re having a thing.”
Luke stopped the rapid-fire questions after that. The ocean came fully into view, and the warm, humid air from the gulf washed over them. “I could spend ten weeks here, no problem.”
Dayne gave Luke another strange look. “If I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t believe that was you beside me.”
“Don’t close your eyes.” He nodded at the road ahead of him. It was a single lane and gravel. “That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
“I’m serious.” Dayne could hear an edge of anger in his voice. “Maybe the better question is, how are you and Reagan?”
The sound of the Suburban’s tires crunching over the gravel was all they heard for more than a minute. Finally Luke exhaled like someone utterly defeated and looked at Dayne. “We aren’t good.”
“Yeah . . . I had a feeling.” Dayne patted his brother’s knee. His anger faded. If things weren’t good between his brother and his wife, then no wonder Luke was acting so strange. “Tell me about it.”
The gravel road opened up to an unpaved parking lot. Dayne pulled the Suburban into one of the first spots and killed the engine. He turned so he could see Luke better.
“I don’t know.” Luke wore sunglasses, so there was no reading his eyes. But his tone sounded more heartfelt than it had since Dayne picked him up at the airport. “I want things to be like they were, but . . . with the kids and our hectic pace, it doesn’t seem like there’s any way back.”
“You said you were traveling more?” This was strange to Dayne because Luke worked exclusively on Dayne’s interests. The job shouldn’t have required much travel, unless Dayne needed him during times like this.
“It’s the higher-ups in New York. They treat me better since you’re my client. I get invited to seminars and big meetings, that sort of thing.”
Dayne rested his elbow on the steering wheel. “Trips like that are optional. You should know that.”
“Not really, not if . . .” Luke’s voice trailed off. He removed his sunglasses and stared at Dayne through eyes that looked dead and closed off. If the eyes were windows to the soul—and Dayne knew they were—then Luke’s windows were sealed shut. He turned his gaze to the windshield. “You’re right. I don’t have to go.”
“Is that what you tell Reagan?” Dayne hated where this was headed. “Because that’s not fair, man. I mean, she’s probably wishing I’d cut you some slack.”
Luke said nothing in response, which told Dayne he was right.
“Look, I’m sorry things aren’t great.” Dayne put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “We can talk about it more tonight, okay?”
Already it was nearly time for dinner, and Dayne had to check back in. He was finished shooting for the night, and he had tomorrow off, but there were always dailies that needed viewing. The director was working with Randi in the afternoon, but she’d asked if she could meet Luke. Apparently since her divorce, her husband had kept their attorney, and she needed a new one.
Dayne had planned to introduce them over dinner. The catering company was barbecuing chicken on the beach tonight. But as they walked into the camp, Randi was talking to the director, and she turned and spotted them. She wore a peach-colored bikini top with a flimsy white gauze shirt unbuttoned over it. Her black shorts were skintight and just long enough to not be considered part of her bathing suit.
While they walked, Dayne caught a glimpse of Luke checking out Randi in a way that even a single guy shouldn’t. “Put your eyes back into your head,” he said quietly. “I’ll introduce you; then I’ll show you to your room.”
“Sounds good.” Luke swung his overnight bag onto his shoulder and stayed at Dayne’s side while they went down the path toward Randi and the director.
“Dayne! You’ve been gone too long. I have a hundred questions for you.” Randi ran to him and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek. She glanced over her shoulder at the director. “You have questions, right?”
The young man was from Spain and had a brilliant eye for making unforgettable films. He looked at his clipboard and flipped a few pages. “Not really.” He winked at her. “You answered all of them.” He moved up the path a ways to a group of assistants.
Dayne knew that Randi had noticed Luke the moment they stepped out of the Suburban. But she waited until now to turn her attention to him. A look of surprise crossed her face. “Dayne, you didn’t tell me your brother was a twin. Introduce me already!”
“Right.” Dayne felt suddenly awkward. “Randi, this is my brother, Luke Baxter.”
“My, my.” Her smile was demure and subtle, but her interest in Luke was clear. “You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.”
Dayne studied his brother, watching for inappropriate behavior. Thankfully, Luke didn’t react overtly to her flirting. Instead he nodded politely. “And you’re Randi Wells.” His eyes held hers maybe a beat too long, and he smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yes.” Randi shook his hand and kept his fingers tucked in hers. “Tell me you’re a new addition to our cast.” Then she raised an eyebrow. “Wait! You’re the lawyer Dayne’s been talking about!”
Luke smiled, as if he were used to receiving this attention from Hollywood stars. “I am.” He kept his cool. There was no gushiness, none of the awestruck fan attitude he’d exuded earlier in the SUV. Now he was calm, beyond collected. “I handle Dayne’s affairs.”
“Lucky you.” She sent a teasing look Dayne’s way. “I’ve tried handling Dayne’s affairs a number of times.” Her tone took on a mock disappointment. “But he won’t let me.”
Dayne was sure Randi wasn’t talking about legal affairs. She was too bright to make that innuendo unintentionally. He averted his eyes and kept all his attention on his brother. “Luke’s a good lawyer. Ha
ndling everything just fine.”
Randi looked from Luke to Dayne and back again. “You two seriously could be twins.” She touched Luke’s arm. “Hang around here very long and they’ll make you a body double for Dayne.” She tilted her face, studying his features. “You might even be the better-looking brother, Luke Baxter.”
A slightly strange silence followed, and Dayne could read the interest in Luke’s eyes, even if he wasn’t saying anything.
“Well—” Randi crossed her arms, her eyes still locked on Luke’s—“let’s sit together at dinner. Give me your best pitch. Maybe you could handle my affairs too.” She touched Luke’s arm once more, and her eyes held a deeper meaning. With that, she took a few steps and waved at Luke. “See you in an hour . . . out on the beach, okay?”
Luke shrugged, uncertain, but his face lit up with his smile. “Sure. See you there.”
After she was gone and out of earshot, Luke set his bag down and let his shoulders slump forward a little. He breathed out, as if he’d been holding his breath since she walked up.
Dayne started walking down the path again. He wanted to scream at Luke, tell him he’d looked way too friendly, too inviting. But he swallowed his frustration. “Come on. I need to get you to your room.”
Luke hadn’t really crossed any lines. Besides, Dayne wouldn’t let Luke out of his sight, so there was no real danger anything would happen between him and Randi. Even so, this was one more bit of trouble Dayne hadn’t asked for. One more trial. No question, before he went to bed he’d need to do something he hadn’t done in a week.
Reread the verses about joy.
If he was honest with himself, Luke hadn’t thought about Reagan or the kids more than a few passing times since he arrived at the set. He’d been excited about meeting Randi Wells—mostly because she was a beautiful celebrity, and now he—Luke Baxter—had access to that world. But he hadn’t counted on Randi being interested in him. Not in his wildest dreams.
It was after nine o’clock, the sky long since dark, and he was seated between Randi and Dayne at what had become a beach bonfire. He was barefoot and wore khaki shorts, a white T-shirt, and Dayne’s Baja California baseball cap, the one he’d borrowed earlier when the sun first started setting. Dayne had told him to keep it. The cast and crew had all received a hat when they checked into their rooms at the beginning of the shoot.
Someday Page 16
