Landon looked dazed, as if Ashley had suddenly and certainly become a crazy woman. “You drove through a snowstorm?”
Ashley glanced out the window and dismissed the weather with a flip of her hand. “It just hit. It’s not that bad.” She gripped his shoulder and took hold of Devin’s hand with the other. Together the three of them sat down on the edge of the sofa. “This is huge, Landon! God wasn’t finished yet, remember? Like you said the other day.”
Devin moved from her lap onto Landon’s. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and stared at Ashley. “Happy!” His singsong voice was slurred, but clearly he was enjoying the moment.
“Yes, baby . . . Mommy’s very happy,” Ashley cooed at him. If only her mother could see what a darling little boy he was growing up to be.
“No one could ever accuse you of lacking passion, Ash.” Landon was used to slowing Ashley down, and now he grinned at her, shaking his head. “Wait, so who’d you talk to?”
“Reagan called me this morning. You won’t believe it.”
Landon tucked his arm around Devin’s waist and settled back into the sofa. His eyes were warmer than a summer day on the lake, but they were also laced with humor. “I’m sure I won’t.”
Ashley could feel her eyes dance, but she ignored his teasing. Instead she plunged into the story, starting at the beginning, the way she’d had to with Katy the other day. “Okay, so I’m making Devin breakfast this morning and Reagan calls. Apparently Luke finally opened his copy of the scrapbook with Mom’s letters. He took it home to his little apartment, sat at the kitchen table, and read the whole thing. Cover to cover.”
The details spilled out, with Ashley taking only the necessary breaths. Reagan’s voice had been tearful, and it took half an hour for her to get to the point, but Ashley didn’t mind. This was about her brother, one of her best friends in the world.
After Luke finished reading the scrapbook, he’d gotten in his car, driven straight to his house across town, and knocked on the door. When Reagan answered, she saw him on her front step crying. Weeping, even.
“He told her he was so sorry and that he wanted them to get counseling.” Ashley’s eyes were wide. “He told her he needed help but he needed her too, and guess what she said?”
“What?” Landon was bouncing his knee, keeping Devin entertained.
“It wasn’t altogether good, but it was better than silence.” Ashley pushed her dark hair back from her face. “She told him she hadn’t been innocent either, but she’d been thinking about little Sarah. She didn’t want to waste the days and months and years in her life hating Luke or being haunted by bitterness.” She held out hands. “Can you believe that? From a woman who a week ago wasn’t willing to make a phone call to save her marriage.”
Landon smiled, a joyful knowing on his face. “That’s amazing.”
She explained how Luke didn’t hesitate, even when Reagan admitted that she’d been guilty too. Instead he hugged her for a long time, with snow falling around them. “Reagan told me they weren’t ready for happily ever after, but get this. . . . Luke’s moving back home this weekend! Isn’t that so great?”
“He is?” Landon stood and let Devin down on the floor. Their toddler beelined across the room, with Landon hurrying after him. “That’s half of what we prayed for, right?”
“Right.” The reminder cast the slightest shadow over the thrill of the moment. Luke and Reagan were back under one roof, but Ashley still hadn’t heard anything from Katy and Dayne. Even if they were trying to fly home from their separate locations, they might not make it. The Indianapolis airport was predicting a shutdown sometime tomorrow because of the blizzard moving in. Ashley frowned as she watched Landon and Devin chase each other across the floor of the firehouse. If they’re trying to fly home, please, God, let them make it. They need to be together. Then and there Ashley committed herself to praying all day and into the next for her older brother and his wife. Whatever it took, because she believed so completely in seeing Sarah’s miracle take place. The entire miracle. Which meant they needed to keep praying until they heard from the couple.
Because Christmas was only one week away.
Katy’s was the last plane allowed into Indianapolis before the blizzard shut down the airport to all travelers. They touched down at five in the morning Wednesday, and Katy caught a Town Car back to Bloomington. She was grateful, and as she climbed inside, she prayed for safe travel. She had to reach Dayne, even if it meant walking through snowdrifts.
She was practically bursting with the news, but she wouldn’t call him in Los Angeles until morning his time. That would give her the chance to get home, unpack, and catch her breath. The whirlwind of emotions that had surrounded her since Ashley’s phone call was something she would have to work to put into words.
Getting out of the airport was an ordeal, and Katy winced as the driver swerved and nearly hit someone in the adjacent lane. She closed her eyes, exhausted and anxious. God . . . get me home. That’s all I want now. Please get me home.
I am with you, daughter. . . . Fear not.
The words came right from Scripture, from a number of verses where God wanted His people to be comforted by the most obvious truth—He was with them in the storm, the way He’d been with His disciples on the stormy lake or when all hope seemed lost at the house of his friends Mary and Martha. He was with Katy and she needn’t be afraid. Even here, on a wintry ride across Indiana.
Katy sank back into the plush leather seat and pulled her Bible from her bag. She wasn’t sure what was happening, why Dayne hadn’t tried harder to reach her or how she could’ve missed the signs. But God was up to something big, and Katy had resigned her pride on the matter. If Dayne was innocent, so be it. They needed to talk and make a plan.
But she couldn’t write her marriage off that easily. Especially not in light of the news she’d just learned.
She turned to 2 Chronicles 20. Growing up a Christian, Katy had many times heard people tossing around the idea that the battle belonged to the Lord. A nice thought, she used to tell herself. It gave her a picture of handing her troubles over to God and letting Him deal with them.
But when she was in college, she stumbled upon 2 Chronicles and the Bible story behind the wonderful truth. Jehoshaphat and God’s people were in big trouble, facing the most terrifying battle of their lives. In many ways, it seemed that they should give up, turn themselves over to the enemy, and pray for fewer casualties that way. But God told them otherwise. Katy’s favorite part of the story came in verse 15: “Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s.”
Wasn’t that exactly how she felt? The media and public opinion formed a vast army directly opposed to Katy and Dayne. But the two of them belonged to God, which meant they didn’t have to fear the outcome. God would fight the battle for them.
Katy read past the battle scene to the most exciting part. While the people were singing and praising God, He set traps for the approaching army, and the enemies of His people were defeated. That last part always struck her, maybe because of her years with CKT, performing musical theater.
She closed her eyes and pictured the way her CKT kids used to gather in the basement of the theater before each show, holding hands and singing “I Love You, Lord” a cappella. The group had accomplished some remarkable feats—forgiving the young drunk driver who had taken the lives of their friends and forming friendships that defied stereotypes.
And of course. Because God’s Word made it clear that His people can find victory in the praising and singing.
Katy stared out the window at the rolling snowdrifts on the side of the highway. The victory came through praise, but why was that? The question stayed with her. How did the act of praising God set a person free from the battle she faced? She pondered the possibilities, and as she did, she began to hum her favorite hymns quietly, so only she could hear them. “Amazing Grace,” “How Great Thou Art,” and half a dozen others, until finally
the answer presented itself clearly.
While she hummed, while her mind was taken up with the lyrics of the old hymns, she was unable to worry or doubt or fret in any possible way. A truth rose to the surface of her heart. Praising God was an act of trust, a way of putting aside the cares and troubles of this world and looking to God alone. No wonder that’s where the battle was won.
She returned to the Bible, switching to the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5. The words seemed to move straight off the page and into her soul, as if by reading them she could rid herself of every sad and lonely moment from the past few months. She drank in the Scriptures like a person dying of thirst—every truth restoring a little more life to her.
The trip took three hours, much of it spent at barely a crawl. By the time they reached the city limits, the sun was out and highway workers had cleared the major streets. Katy straightened in the backseat and savored the familiar sights of Bloomington, even though it was buried under three feet of snow. Thank You, God. . . . Thank You for getting me home.
Christmas lights were strung along the streets, wreaths tacked to the doors of most of the businesses leading into the city. She could hardly wait to see Jenny and Jim and their kids and to begin soul-searching about what was next for her now that CKT didn’t have a theater.
The thought pierced her heart with a fresh sadness. Why hadn’t she and Dayne tried harder to keep the place from closing down? Okay, so the theater wasn’t a moneymaker unless it was torn down and replaced with condominiums. But did everything have to make a profit in order to be worthwhile?
Katy narrowed her eyes, wishing she could ask the driver to take a detour past the downtown area where the theater had stood. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. Jenny had told her that the demolition was scheduled for Monday. Katy figured it might be a month before she had the courage to drive by the empty lot.
The roads leading up to their lake house were more slippery, and again the driver took his time. When he finally pulled into the driveway, she felt a rush of relief. Not that she’d been afraid—after God had breathed the reminder of His peace and presence into her soul, she had no fear. No, the relief came only because she was finally where she belonged.
Home on Lake Monroe.
She paid the driver, and he helped her get her bags to the front door. If he recognized her as Dayne Matthews’ wife, he didn’t say so, and she was again grateful. She wanted only to get inside and start thinking about what she’d tell Dayne first, how she’d let him hear her news without breaking down midway through the first sentence.
Dayne was in LA now, where he’d be until Christmas Eve. That meant she would wait until ten to call him—seven his time. Hopefully he’d be up by then.
She lugged all three of her bags inside. With the winter storm, she’d expected the house to be freezing. After all, it had been months since either of them had been home, and they hadn’t asked anyone to open the place while they were gone. They had no pets to feed or plants that needed watering.
But as soon as she drew her first breath, Katy smelled fresh coffee. “What in the . . . ?” She set the last bag down and moved toward the smell. She rounded the corner and stepped into the spacious kitchen; it was empty but the coffeemaker was half-full. She might’ve just been blanketed with peace, but the idea of someone breaking into her house and brewing coffee was enough to make the blood drain from her face.
“Hello?” she called as she walked to the coffeepot. It was warm to the touch. Someone had indeed been here and made coffee. She looked up, her pulse thudding through her body. There were only two options—either they were still here, or they hadn’t been gone long.
She opened a drawer at the end of the granite counter and snatched a small can of pepper spray. Dayne had given it to her for when she might be out here at the lake alone and need some way to defend herself. She twisted it into position and held it straight out in front of her.
Slowly, cautiously, she tiptoed down the hall. “Hello . . . who’s here?” Her voice echoed against the walls, then faded. The house was deathly silent. “Hello?”
Katy reached their bedroom and aimed the pepper spray sharply around the corner. When no one jumped out or grabbed her, she poked her head into the doorway and peered around the room.
It was empty. But there, on the neatly made bed, was a piece of white paper. Katy blinked and lowered the pepper spray. What was this? Had someone broken in, made coffee, and left her a note? The idea seemed ludicrous. She crossed her room with steps that were more normal, less like something from a horror flick.
She picked up the note and the room tilted. It said, Katy, meet me at the theater. Dayne.
What? She blinked and read the note again. He was home? He was supposed to be in Los Angeles, unless somehow she’d lost a week. As she stared at the note once more, confusion rocked her soul. If he’d been home, why hadn’t he called her? And why would he want to meet her at the theater, when the building had already been torn down? She lowered herself to the bed to stop the room from spinning. Was this happening? Had he really come home before her?
The truth settled into place gradually, and the pieces began to come together. The coffee was Dayne’s doing, not the work of a stranger. But was he serious? He wanted her to drive through the snow and meet him at the place where the theater once stood? What was he up to?
Then the reality of his nearness overwhelmed her. Dayne was here! Home in Bloomington! And in just a little while she could see him again, hold him. Yes, they had differences to work through, but she understood now, and suddenly she couldn’t wait to see him, to tell him what she’d found out. She stood and grabbed a pair of boots and her thickest coat from the closet. Her car was in the garage. If Dayne wanted her to come, she would come.
Now if she could only make it to the theater.
Dayne sat at the center of the old wooden stage, the same place where Katy had been the first time he saw her. He’d contacted Stephen Petrel yesterday and learned that Katy was flying home today, arriving early in the morning. Dayne tracked her flight online and knew that she’d landed safely. He wasn’t sure how long it would take her to make it to Bloomington, but this was where he wanted to be when they first saw each other again.
Here, at the Bloomington Community Theater, where it all started.
His idea had come off without a hitch, and ten times an hour he asked himself why he hadn’t done it sooner. The reason, of course, was that he and Katy weren’t going to be around. Without Katy there to run CKT, if the theater was sold, then maybe it was God’s way of shutting a door. Ending a season.
The place was drafty, and in the hour since he’d arrived here this morning he’d walked around and found a long list of things that needed upgrading or replacing. No investor would tell him he’d been given a deal on the place, but Dayne didn’t care. He folded his hands and rested his forearms on his knees.
He could still see the face of the lead developer when he ran up and asked the crew to stop. At first the police had been angry, thinking him an insane citizen or some maniac intent on stopping progress. It took only a few seconds for them to realize who he was, and once he was able to explain himself, the police officer had introduced him to the developer.
“It’s about making money, right?” Dayne looked intently at the guy.
Hanson Development was well liked and respected throughout town. The organization donated to every charity in Bloomington and was a huge supporter of the local schools. No one blamed the developer for wanting condos where the theater stood. The townspeople were the ones who should’ve risen to the occasion long before now. If the city would’ve held an emergency meeting and purchased the building as a landmark, the situation never would have gotten this out of hand.
The developer had given Dayne a hesitant smile. “I’m a businessman, Mr. Matthews. Of course it’s about making money. But look . . . our plans are already in motion. We’ve invested a lot of money into making this project happen.”
“I realize that. I want to buy the theater.” Dayne took his checkbook from his pocket. “I’ll cover any of your expenses also.”
The man’s mouth hung slightly open, and it took a while before he summoned his team around. They agreed that if Dayne was serious, they could put off the demolition and move the meeting somewhere warm and dry. At least to talk about the possibility.
Dayne smiled at the memory. They’d come to terms before lunch, not only on the theater but on the buildings that stood on either side that were also slated for demolition. The price tag was high but nothing compared to what Dayne made per film. In the end, the developer was actually glad to have the theater off his hands. The paperwork had been a nightmare, and now Hanson Development was cash poor. With money from the sale they could start acquiring property for a new housing tract.
“We were about to be the bad guys,” the developer had told Dayne as they finished their meeting. “I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to the day.”
Now Dayne was beginning to dream up big plans for the buildings, ways for the adjacent spaces to house tenants and make money so that the theater could be self-sufficient. A fifties diner on one side and a coffee shop on the other, maybe. They would widen and pave the parking lot to connect all three sites, and by the time they were finished, the price would feel like a bargain.
Dayne hadn’t stopped dreaming about the project since the developer handed him the keys. He straightened and pulled them from his pocket. Keys were a funny thing; an entire world could be opened with the right one. He slid his fingers over the cool metal and was putting them back in his pocket when he heard a car pull up outside.
Normally, with the traffic from downtown, he wouldn’t have noticed. But today, everyone in Bloomington was home getting ready for Christmas, enjoying the snowstorm and making the most of a day inside. Everyone but the one person he couldn’t wait to see. Dayne sucked in a quick breath and stared at the back door of the theater, the one Katy always used.
Someday Page 28
