Hearing the emotion in Ryan’s voice only confused her, made her desperate for his presence, his arms around her.
His kiss.
And that made her feel like a wicked, unfaithful woman who would cheat on a husband dead not even six months.
“Hey.” She massaged her eyebrows with her thumb and forefinger. “Thanks for calling.” She hesitated. “I’ll understand if I don’t hear from you for a while. Once camp starts, you’ll be too busy to eat.” Kari ached from missing him, hating herself for betraying the memory of Tim.
“I might be too busy to eat.” He waited a moment. “But as long as I’m breathing, I’ll find time to call.”
A sense of relief filled her soul before she could stop it. “Okay.” She let loose a soft bit of laughter. “You know where to find me.”
When they hung up, Kari stood and gripped the windowsill again, staring out at the clear blue sky. Was she crazy? Her conversation with Ryan had been seeped in deeper meaning and innuendo. Here she was, trapped in the pain of losing Tim and convinced that grieving his loss was something she needed to do alone. Yet she couldn’t go a day without thinking of Ryan Taylor.
She drew a slow breath and narrowed her eyes, willing herself to focus on God’s presence, to hear his voice above the roar of emotions battling for position in her heart. Lord, all of this confusion could have been avoided if only you had let Tim live. Sadness came over her like a bad cold. Jessie would never know him, never hold his hand, never run into his arms. It’s so unfair, God.
Her knees grew weak, but almost at the same time she felt herself standing straighter, being held up by invisible hands.
I am with you, daughter. Even now. I know the plans I have for you.
The voice was quiet, a mere whispering in her soul. But the words were familiar; they had sustained her throughout the past year. And Kari was sure they were true. God was with her; he had great plans for her. But what about Tim? Why hadn’t God been with him when he went to that woman’s apartment? If God had kept Tim safe, she wouldn’t be here wondering about Ryan, dreaming of when she might see him again and feeling guilty for every moment of it.
Kari opened her mouth. The near silent words that came out were soaked in pain. “You could have saved him, Lord.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We were . . . we were supposed to be a family.”
A Scripture verse came back to her, one that had been on a dozen sympathy cards she’d received after Tim’s death, one that seemed to appear in sermons and devotions at least once a week since then.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
They were words she had heard all her life, but they had seemed empty and trite after Tim’s murder. What good could come from losing her husband—and just months after the two of them had survived the greatest test of their marriage? What good was there in watching a little girl grow up without her father?
As hard as the past five months had been, she had recovered at least enough to believe that things would get better. Somehow . . . someday. What was it her mother had said? Beauty from ashes. Yes, that was it. God would honor the truths laid out in the Bible, truths that Kari believed completely, even if they didn’t seem to make sense. But still, her belief didn’t ease the pain of daily living, the uncertainty of what tomorrow held.
No, she didn’t struggle with whether God would deliver on his promise to make something beautiful out of the shattered remains of her life.
She struggled with when.
Chapter Seven
Ashley was never nervous.
But as she made her way through the hospital lobby and up the elevator to the third floor, she could barely keep her hands from shaking. It was time to talk to Landon, time to find out what was eating at him and why weeds of tension had shot up between them these past few days. Time to find out if what she guessed was true.
The dinner party at her parents’ house had been hard to leave. Conversations about Erin’s move had blended into talk about Luke and Reagan, which had led to more discussion about the blood bank at St. Anne’s Hospital. Apparently it was lower than it had been in a decade, and Brooke, the oldest of the five of them, was willing to take up the cause.
Ashley leaned hard against the elevator wall. Of course Brooke was willing. She was a doctor, after all—she and Peter both. By spearheading a blood drive, they would make the mighty John Baxter happy. They would be in tight, following in his footsteps, deserving his praise. Even if they didn’t go to church or believe in God.
Normally at a family gathering, Ashley would have been anxious to leave. But tonight she had taken it all in, studying the people who made up her family, wondering why she didn’t fit in, why she wasn’t like them. Before she left, the conversation had turned to Alzheimer’s. She told them Lu’s advice about keeping the patients in the here and now.
But Brooke had disagreed. “That works sometimes, but doctors today are talking more about distraction. That’s the preferred treatment now.”
“Distraction?” Ashley had been ready to leave, but if Brooke knew something that could help her at work, she was interested.
“Yes.” Brooke nodded, then added in her official doctor voice, “The moment an Alzheimer’s patient veers off the course of reasonable normalcy, distract them. Change the subject, introduce an idea or an activity, anything to deter them from their delusion.”
The idea sounded better than arguing with the old folks. “Why can’t I just agree with them, let them think their husbands are alive or that they’re visiting for a few hours instead of confined to a home for sick people?”
“That would never work.” Brooke’s laugh made Ashley feel stupid. “It’d be like pouring gasoline on the flames of dementia.”
The memory faded, and Ashley crossed her arms.
If anyone should be leaving town, she should. Certainly no one would be broken up about that the way they were by Erin and Sam’s leaving. That was something else. Ashley had actually felt sad at her sister’s announcement. She would miss seeing Erin once a week at the family dinners. Erin had always been the quietest Baxter, the simplest and the plainest. But Erin was genuine as a summer sunset, her smile enough to light the room. Ashley had visited her kindergarten classroom a few times and been amazed at the handmade decorations on every wall, the attention to detail in the learning environment her sweet sister had created for her students.
Erin was a stabilizing force, really. She looked like their mother, acted like her, and had the same calm demeanor. Erin’s life—even when she was younger—had never been anything but normal and good. At least it had always seemed that way. Erin’s presence in their lives was something Ashley had always taken for granted.
The same way she’d taken Landon Blake for granted.
Ashley closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t upset by her lack of emotion. Maybe he’d fallen in love with someone else or had plans he wasn’t willing to share—that could be the reason he was acting so stiffly toward her. Whatever it was, Ashley knew she couldn’t wait any longer to find out.
She exited the elevator and nodded to the nurse on duty. They all knew her by now—Dr. Baxter’s daughter, the one who couldn’t stay away from the injured firefighter. Ashley was sure the nurses had created a marvelous love story in their minds, marrying the two of them off before Christmas.
That was fine. People could believe what they wanted to. She and Landon knew the truth. Despite their history, and despite the attraction they felt for each other, a romance between them would never work. It couldn’t. They were simply too different. Regardless of how things looked to her family and friends or even to the nurses at St. Anne’s Hospital.
Ashley walked down the hall and turned into room 312. Landon was sitting gingerly in bed, keeping his weight off the bandages that covered his burns, staring at the television monitor anchored near the ceiling. A baseball game played silently on the sc
reen.
“Hi.” She smiled at him, clutching her crocheted bag to her waist. She sat in the chair beside his bed.
“Hey, I didn’t think you were coming.” His eyes met and held hers. What was it she could see there? Regret? Anger? Uncertainty? Ashley wasn’t sure, but something was definitely wrong.
“It’s Erin’s birthday.” Ashley leaned back in the chair and set her bag on the floor. “Baxter dinner parties can run pretty late.”
Landon’s smile did not erase the distance in his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Ashley studied him. “You look good.” There was more color in his face. “How long before they let you go?”
“Not sure. No skin grafts, so that’s good news. They want my lungs to function better.” He grinned. “I have a strict doctor.”
“You’re telling me.” Ashley rolled her eyes, a smile tugging on her lips. “I grew up with him.”
They were quiet, and Ashley looked at the television again. This was the moment, her chance to ask him what he was thinking. But before she could find the words, Landon broke the silence.
“Why, Ash?”
Her eyes returned to his. “Why, what?”
“Why are you here?”
She shifted positions, her heart thudding against the wall of her chest. She couldn’t back out now. “I’m worried about you.”
“I get that.” He motioned toward his monitors. “But I’m not in danger now. I haven’t been for twenty-four hours.” He looked at her, his gaze working its way deep into her soul. “So why are you here?”
What should she tell him? Had he heard the words she’d spoken when he was near death the other day? Was he waiting for her to say them now, to his face? She bit the inside of her lip and searched desperately for the answers. “I’m your friend, Landon. I care. That’s why.”
Landon let his head fall back against his pillow. For a moment he watched the ball game again, staring at the screen while a burly batter missed two pitches and hit the third out of the park. Ashley watched, too, not sure what to say.
When the game broke for a commercial, Landon used his remote control and clicked the Off button. The screen went black.
Once more Landon turned his attention to her. “I heard you.”
Ashley felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”
“The first night, when I was unconscious.” Landon peered at her through eyes laden with emotion. “I heard everything.”
“You . . . you couldn’t even breathe. What do you mean you heard everything?”
“Look, Ashley, as far back as I can remember I’ve tried to figure you out.” He tossed out his hands, his eyes darting about the room, looking for answers that had long since eluded him. “What would Ashley want? What would Ashley think? Why doesn’t Ashley want me?” His gaze met hers again. “God’s given me everything I’ve set my mind on, Ashley. Everything . . . except you.”
The heat in Ashley’s cheeks felt strong enough to warm the entire room. He had heard her, just as she’d feared. And now they were both too confused to know how to act, what to say, how to move ahead from here. Her tone was soft. “What did you hear, Landon?”
“No, Ashley.” He worked the muscles in his jaw. “You tell me. Tell me the same thing you told me that night. Then tell me what you meant by it, so I can have some form of sanity here.”
“Please, Landon.” Ashley wanted to shout, but instead she pleaded with him, begging him to understand. “I thought you were dying.”
A single exasperated laugh came from Landon’s lips. “As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Ashley Baxter. Why I let you get under my skin all those years ago, I’ll never know.” His face grew softer, more serious. “Tell me, Ashley. Tell me what you told me when you thought I was dying.”
No! She couldn’t tell him!
A hundred thoughts ricocheted off the walls of Ashley’s mind, vying for position. Love between her and Landon could never work, never amount to anything more than heartache for both of them. He needed a sweet, Christian wife—someone who would sit at home waiting for him to return from the firehouse, someone who would pray for him every time sirens rang out across Bloomington. Someone quaint and cute and conservative.
Ashley was none of those things. Especially after Paris. She could never love a man unless she had the freedom to tell him what happened that year in France. And if there was one person she could never tell, it was Landon Blake. No way. He was moral and righteous, a man of the highest standards—a hero, no less. She couldn’t stand having him think of her as dirty and cheap.
What point was there in loving him now?
Ashley blinked. Yet, that’s what she’d told him, wasn’t it? That she loved him.
Landon coughed twice and took a sip of water. Then he looked at her again. “I already know, Ashley. Tell me.”
Like an avalanche, Ashley felt the walls of her pride give way. Her shoulder slumped forward, and when she spoke, there was none of the fierce independence that usually rang in her voice. She locked eyes with Landon and told him the truth, the way she felt still, even if it was the craziest feeling in all the world.
“I . . . I told you I love you.” She leaned forward, her voice barely audible over the ticking of the clock. “I didn’t want you to die without knowing.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Landon’s eyes welled up, and his face twisted into a mask of confusion. “But I couldn’t believe it. Not until now. Not until I heard it from your own lips.” He searched her face. “Why is it so hard for you, Ashley? To tell me how you feel? When you know how I’ve always felt about you?”
“Because . . .” Ashley felt like a person falling from a cliff. “. . . I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
Landon leaned forward, stiff, as though someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his hospital gown.
“I . . .” Ashley crossed her arms and dug her fists into the knots in her stomach. “. . . I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, Landon. You know, like I wanted something between us. A relationship or something.”
The pain that flashed in Landon’s eyes sliced straight through her. But it was gone almost instantly, gathered back into a closet of his heart where she clearly wasn’t allowed.
He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “Of course not, Ash.” Gone was the intimacy of a moment ago, and in its place was the protective veneer, the casual friendship she’d grown accustomed to. The one she was more comfortable with. “I would never think that. Not of the mysterious Ashley Baxter.”
“Landon . . .” Ashley wanted to kick herself. This was going all wrong. Yes, she had feelings for Landon. But where could they possibly lead? “I didn’t mean it like that; it’s just . . .”
Landon held up his hand. “It’s okay.” Resignation was written across his face. “I understand.” He drew in a deep breath and held out his hand to her. She reached up and took it, allowing him to weave his fingers between hers. “I have something to tell you.”
Ashley wanted to think straight, but the feel of Landon’s hand in hers was almost more than she could bear. She forced herself to focus. “What?”
“I’m moving.” He worked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I was looking for a chance to tell you before I got hurt.”
Ashley was unable to breathe for a moment. Landon was kidding, lying. Trying to get back at her for not loving him the way he loved her. She felt suddenly awkward holding his hand. Her fingers eased free, and she crossed her arms again. “Moving where?”
“New York.” Peace came over Landon, and he settled back against his pillow once more. “Jalen’s there. I told you about him, right?”
Jalen? The name was vaguely familiar. Ashley’s mind raced. She was struck by how little she’d really listened to Landon since she’d been home from Paris. She’d been so determined not to fall in love with him that she’d barely heard him. “Vaguely.”
Landon smiled. “Jalen and I met at the University of Texas as f
reshmen. He’s the one who convinced me to get on the volunteer fire department in this little town outside Austin. When we left school he went to New York City. I came home to Bloomington to train and get in the department here.”
Ashley felt sick to her stomach. “But New York, Landon? Isn’t this kind of . . . I don’t know . . . sudden?”
“Not really. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He shrugged. “Jalen and I talk once a month or so, and he’s always in the thick of things. Saving people, rushing into burning high-rises, that kind of thing. In New York City, fighting fires is a passion. Here in Bloomington it’s more of a pastime.”
“So you’re moving to New York to fight fires with Jalen because there’s not enough excitement here? Is that it?” Ashley gestured at the cast on Landon’s leg, the bandages on his back and thighs. “Haven’t you had enough excitement for a while?”
“It isn’t the excitement, really. It’s making my life count.” He stared at her and, for an instant, he allowed his emotions to surface as they had before. “After hearing your voice when they brought me in here, I actually had doubts about going. That’s why . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Why you’ve been so quiet?” It all made sense finally—the awkwardness she’d been feeling, the strange uneasiness between them. Landon was moving. He had been looking for a way to tell her, but then he’d been hurt. And as he lay near death, her words of love had made him wonder if he was making a mistake by going.
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’m sorry, Landon.” She reached for his hand again. “I had no idea.”
“I know. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have read so much into what you said. It’s just . . . when you told me you loved me, I had to know what you meant. Because if you meant it—well, if you meant it the way I’d hoped, I could never leave.”
There it was again. Landon’s true feelings laid out before her like an open gift. If only she could love him the way he loved her. “Sometimes I wish I were normal. Like other girls.”
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