Someday

by Karen Kingsbury

  The world could write Dayne off, complain that he had walked away from a brilliant career and more fame than a person had a right to. But in this moment the label people wanted to tack onto him was right in every possible way. Dayne truly had it all, for one wonderful reason.

  Someday was finally here.

  Ashley nestled back into her father’s sofa and surveyed the chaotic Christmas Eve scene taking place around her. Everyone was here, including Erin, Sam, and the girls. At the last minute, Sam had gotten permission from his boss to take a trip to Indiana to figure out where they would live once they moved here in June and to spend a few days meeting with the management in the Indianapolis office.

  The timing couldn’t have been better. Last week’s storm had left a blanket of white across Indiana, and even now flurries added to the magic of the night. During dinner, her dad announced that he and Elaine had set their wedding date for the last Saturday of June, six months from now.

  Ashley looked across the room to where her dad and Elaine sat at the dining room table, catching up with Erin and Sam on all the excitement surrounding their impending move. At the far end of the kitchen counter was an enormous bag of wrapping paper from the gift exchange they’d had before church.

  And stacked on the counter next to the bag was today’s newspaper, with the article that had run on the front page. CKT was back in business. Katy had reported that nearly all the kids had contacted her, thrilled with the news. Auditions had been set for the last part of January, after Katy and Dayne returned one last time from Los Angeles.

  All the pieces had come together, everything Ashley and Landon had prayed about. Now she couldn’t think of anything better than watching the snow fall outside the window and seeing her entire family gathered together for Christmas. Everyone except Luke and Reagan.

  The house fairly shook with the sounds of love and laughter, the way the Baxter house was supposed to sound. Ryan, Landon, Peter, and Dayne were in the TV room, watching the NFL highlights from the week. Every few minutes one of them would let out a shout or a loud “Can you believe that?” The guys were close friends, and Ashley was sure that Sam was looking forward to being part of the group again.

  They’d all gone to the Christmas Eve candlelight service together, even Luke and Reagan. But afterwards, Reagan had told Ashley that they needed to run an errand before joining the others. Ashley passed the word on to her dad and the others, and she figured her brother and his wife would be here any minute. She smiled at the picture they’d made earlier today at church and a few weeks ago when the entire Baxter family had caravanned to Indiana University for the Chimes of Christmas, the annual choir production that half the town turned out to see.

  When their voices joined for a haunting final refrain of “Silent Night,” Ashley surveyed the faces around her and hoped—as she’d done so often before—that her mom had a window. The way Christmas was coming together would’ve made her mother so happy.

  Ashley looked around the room, from the warm flames dancing in the fireplace to the spots on the floor where her sisters were playing a card game of spoons with the older cousins. Ashley was too tired to play this round. Now, snuggled beneath an old throw her mother had crocheted twenty years ago, she found herself glad for the quiet.

  “Coley has s-p-o-o.” Maddie gave him a concerned look. “It’s not seeming that good for you.”

  “I can still win.” He raised his brow at Kari. “Right?”

  “You can.” Kari and Brooke swapped a quick smile. “It just means you’re out of chances.”

  The hand began with cards passed around the circle at record speed. Ashley watched as Brooke quietly took the first spoon from the pile in the middle. Maddie took one next, and then Clarisse, Chloe, and Jessie grabbed one apiece. Kari and Katy were the last ones to get spoons, maybe half a second before Cole shot his hand toward the middle. With no spoon left to grab, he dropped his cards and shrugged.

  “You lost, Coley.” Maddie used her sweetest voice. She tossed her long honey-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  Ashley’s sisters tried equally hard not to laugh. None of Cole’s cousins loved him as much as Maddie did, but none of them teased him as much either.

  Cole studied Maddie, and he seemed to understand—maybe for the first time—that he could still walk away a winner as long as he downplayed the importance of the victory. A smile suddenly replaced his frown. “Oh well; that’s okay, Maddie. Now I get to sit with my mom.”

  Maddie looked confused, as if she should make some kind of retort. But she only frowned and turned her attention back to the game.

  Cole giggled. Then he popped up, crossed the room, and snuggled on the couch beside Ashley. “Can I share the blanket?”

  “Of course.” Her heart melted at the way her little boy was growing up, how his legs hung over the sofa and onto the floor now. She fanned the blanket out so they each had half. “How’s that?”

  He rested his head on her shoulder. “Perfect.”

  “Good.” She ran her hand over his hair.

  “Whatcha thinking over here, anyway?” He reached out and took hold of her hand.

  “I don’t know, about Christmas and family. How blessed we are.”

  “Oh.” He sounded pensive, the way he sometimes got. “I thought maybe you were thinking about Sarah.”

  The grief that was never too far away poked at Ashley’s heart. She swallowed, curious about what was on Cole’s heart. “How about you? What are you thinking?”

  “About Sarah. How much I miss that little sister.” He snuggled closer. “Especially when Annie’s around.”

  The tears in Ashley’s eyes were more from joy than sadness. How wonderful that for now Cole remembered Sarah, that her brief life had made a difference to her oldest son.

  “I know.” Ashley looked across the room at the baby swing set up in the corner. Annie was tucked inside, nuzzled against her blanket, sound asleep. “Annie makes me miss Sarah too.”

  “But at least we have Annie.” Cole peered at her. “Plus, Sarah’s safe with Grandma in heaven.”

  “Right.”

  Cole relaxed against her again. “I think I’ll go see if Papa wants a piece of chocolate from the candy dish.”

  “Papa or you?” She tickled his ribs, and the sound of his laughter erased the sorrow from a minute ago.

  “Okay . . . okay.” He stood and kissed her on the cheek. “Maybe both of us.” He waved at her as he turned and scampered off. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” Ashley stood and stretched. The younger kids were at the kitchen table coloring their Christmas story books with the pictures of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in a manger. Already her dad had gathered all the kids around and shared the Christmas story from the book of Luke, the way he did every Christmas Eve.

  She wandered into the kitchen and came up behind Devin. He was using oversize baby-safe crayons, coloring long lines of red across the three wise men. He looked up and grinned at her. “Mama, see!”

  “Yes, baby. Very nice.” She moved around the table admiring the pictures being created by RJ, Heidi Jo, and Amy. Last she came to the picture Hayley was working on.

  It defied odds that Hayley was alive, let alone sitting at the table coloring within the lines. She smiled at Ashley. “Hi.” Her eyes were bright and innocent, the way they always would be. Every few months she reached another milestone. This year in school she was writing her alphabet, learning to spell words, and making her first attempts at reading. Things no doctor—even Ashley’s dad and Peter—ever thought she’d be able to do in the early days after her near drowning.

  “Hi.” Ashley put her hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “Tell me about your picture.”

  Hayley was coloring the manger scene. All the animals were brown, and the people were blue, the lines not quite neat and tidy. But the sky around Bethlehem was a brilliant, solid yellow. She talked about each of the animals and about Mary and Joseph and Jesus. Then Hayley pointed to t
he yellow sky. “A miracle happened that night, Aunt Ashley. So that part’s all goldy.”

  Ashley could hardly argue with the logic. She was about to ask if any of them wanted another Christmas cookie when she heard the front door open.

  “We’re here!” Tommy burst into the room. He was wearing glasses now, and combined with his short, spiked haircut he looked like an adorable cartoon character. He raised his hands and curled his fingers in his best impersonation of a dinosaur. Then he let out a roar that filled the house.

  “Yes, we’re definitely here.” Reagan blew at a wisp of her bangs as she carried Malin into the room. “Nothing says Christmas like the roar of a T. rex.”

  Conversations broke out across the house, and everyone gathered near the Christmas tree.

  Brooke waved her hands until she had everyone’s attention. “You know what time it is, right?”

  Ashley grinned at Kari, and a few of the men rolled their eyes.

  “That’s right, all you scrooges out there.” Brooke’s voice was lighthearted, the joy in her expression undimmed by the slight sarcasm from the guys. “It’s time for the cousin photo!”

  Every year they tried to find a way to put all the Baxter grandkids into one picture. This time, Ashley had a feeling it was going to take all the adults working together to pull it off. The men moved a few chairs close to the tree, while Ashley and her sisters fussed over their kids, making sure hair was in place and vanilla icing was rubbed off their sticky cheeks.

  The older kids stood behind the chairs, their backs to the tree. Elaine stepped in and helped arrange the little ones in the chairs in the front. Annie was awake now, and Kari set her gently in Jessie’s arms. When it looked like everyone was in place, Ashley and the others darted out of the picture and grabbed their respective cameras.

  For the next few minutes, each of them took a handful of shots. If they were lucky, there might be a single image between them with every one of the kids open-eyed and smiling.

  With the photo behind them, the kids were ushered into the TV room for the traditional showing of the cartoon version of the Grinch. Once the movie was going, the adults returned to the living room.

  Ashley and Landon were the last to join the others, and a hush fell over the room. Ashley looked at the faces surrounding them. She wagged her finger at them, teasing. “Okay . . . stop telling secrets.”

  Reagan stood and walked to her. In her hand was a small red gift bag. She smiled, but there was something very deep in her eyes. She handed the bag to Ashley and gave her a long hug. “Luke and I had one more gift for you. Something I made for you. Of course—” she smiled at Luke—“our life being what it is, we didn’t get a gift bag until half an hour ago.”

  Landon looked puzzled. Ashley had to assume that he too was in the dark about this unexpected gift. All eyes were on her as she took the bag and gave Reagan a tender smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know.” She motioned for Luke to join her, and he did, carefully dodging the crowd around the room and making his way to Reagan’s side.

  Then he pulled Ashley into a hug. It took her back to their growing-up days when the Baxter house had only a fraction of people around the tree on Christmas Eve. Back to the days when her little brother was her best buddy. He eased back to his place by Reagan and locked eyes with Ashley. “It’s something we both wanted to do.”

  Ashley didn’t waste any more time. She pulled the tissue from inside and handed it to Landon. Then she lifted out the most delicate Christmas ornament. It was handmade, with precious white lace and a single red ribbon woven around the circle. In the center Reagan had embroidered the words Our Little Miracle and beneath that the year.

  “Turn it over.” Reagan moved a little closer to Luke.

  Ashley did, and tears sprang to her eyes instantly. On the other side was a photo of baby Sarah. A beautiful shot, one that captured her perfect features and her precious blue eyes. Ashley looked at Reagan. “How . . . how did you know?”

  “I just thought you needed something on your tree.” Her voice cracked. “So no one ever forgot about her at Christmastime.”

  “No, but . . . how did you know that’s what we were praying for? That God would work a miracle out of Sarah’s life?”

  Reagan’s face went blank and she shrugged. “I didn’t know that part.”

  Happy tears spilled onto Ashley’s cheeks. Of course Reagan hadn’t known about the prayer she and Landon had lifted to God every day since Sarah’s birth. But God knew.

  Ashley pulled Reagan, Luke, and Landon into a group hug, and beside her she could feel tears on Landon’s face too. “Thank you, Reagan,” she choked out in a strained whisper. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

  The others stood and circled around, waiting to pass the ornament and remember again the face of the baby they’d known for such a brief time. The scene reminded Ashley of the way they’d shared Sarah for the few hours of her life, passing her from one to another.

  This, then, was the final part of the miracle of Sarah’s life. Not only had God used her to soften the hearts of Dayne and Katy and Luke and Reagan, but none of them would ever forget the tiny daughter and granddaughter and cousin who had not lived long enough to share a Christmas with the Baxter family. And in that way she would live on, not only in heaven with their dear, sweet mother, where someday they would all join her.

  But here in their hearts.

  Ashley realized that she hadn’t completely let go of Sarah, hadn’t reached a point of thanking God for her short life when what she had really wanted was for her daughter’s life to outlast her own.

  At the far end of the circle, Ashley’s father slipped his arm around Elaine’s shoulders and began to sing. “‘O Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder . . . consider all the worlds Thy hands have made . . .’”

  It was a praise song like none other, and Ashley met the eyes of Katy standing next to her. Katy had told her the revelation God had given her, about how victory was found in singing.

  The ornament was back in Ashley’s hands, and she looked down at it, at the sweet face of her little girl.

  Around the room, a few others joined in the singing, with her father’s voice the loudest and steadiest of all. “‘I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder . . . Thy power throughout the universe displayed.’”

  As they reached the chorus, everyone in the room sang, “‘Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee . . . how great Thou art! How great Thou art! . . . Then sings my soul . . .’”

  Ashley closed her eyes and sang for all she was worth, praising her God and King for the miracle of Sarah’s life and for the goodness that He alone had provided. He had been exalted through the miracle of Sarah, after all. Not just for her and Landon but for all of them.

  As the song ended, Ashley felt a release, and she knew deep within her soul what it was. The battle was over; Sarah belonged to God fully, completely. She reached out and joined hands with Katy. This was the beauty of the Baxter family, that they came together in times of great sorrow and times of great joy and that they were stronger because of each other.

  Ashley didn’t want to think about next Christmas, when the Baxter house would likely belong to strangers. Her father was right. They didn’t need walls and windows to be part of the Baxter family. They needed God and each other.

  The song ended, and in the other room came the faint refrains of the Whos in Whoville singing without any presents at all. Ashley smiled. Dr. Seuss had gotten the message right. Victory came in the song.

  In the years ahead, when they got together they would laugh and look back at the years gone by. And always they would sing praises to their mighty Savior, and when they did, they would win—no matter what defeat they’d faced that year. They’d have victory because with God they could stand up to any battle that came their way. And someday in heaven they would experience the greatest victory of all.

  A reunion like none of them had ever dared dream about.

  A Wo
rd from Karen Kingsbury

  Dear Friends,

  What an emotional journey it’s been, trying to bring to a close my series on the Baxters. Especially this installment, which was written in the weeks after my dad’s death. My dad always told me that one day everyone would know what a wonderful writer I was. But having him in my life made me know for certain that life was about so much more than writing.

  My dad was a firm believer in life. I told you that last time. But he was also a believer in miracles. That’s why none of us were overly shocked when he survived his heart attack in what could only be described as a miracle. You can read about it on my Web site at www.KarenKingsbury.com.

  Clearly because of what we went through with my dad, the idea of miracles was on my heart like never before. I’ve heard from thousands of you who told me how glad you were that Ashley’s baby didn’t receive a miraculous healing at the end of the last book, Summer. It wasn’t that you wished bad things for poor Ashley. But you wanted a real story, a way of seeing God’s hand at work even when life doesn’t go the way we want.

  I’m glad you were happy with that ending. It was the only one I could’ve written, knowing the powerful God we serve and the very real certainty of heartache all around us. And so in this book, I had the chance to bring to light the fact that even in death, God can work miracles. We’ve seen that a number of times in people close to us and in our community. With the passing of my dad, we saw it personally.

  God is at work, even in our storms.

  The story of Ashley and Dayne and Luke all finding their someday by the end of this book was also one in which I felt compelled to talk about the battles of life. The deaths and illnesses, the broken relationships and ruined finances. God tells us in 2 Chronicles that we don’t have to fight our battles alone. He’ll go before us.