Ashley pulled back some, searching Landon’s face. “Want to know the worst part?”
Clearly, Landon knew what she was going to say, but he waited.
“Coming home.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “I was always a little different before. You know?”
Landon gave her a crooked smile. “I know.”
Ashley held his gaze. “But when I came home, everything was worse. I wasn’t just the girl who gave my parents more trouble than the rest. I was the black sheep. No one knew what to do with me. ‘Poor Ashley.’ Her tone became quietly sarcastic. ‘Runs off to Paris and comes home pregnant. What’ll we do with her?’ ”
Ashley spread her fingers across her chest. “Everything they said only made me feel worse. Like none of them could ever accept me or love me or care about me again. Especially Luke.” She bit her lip. “He was the worst.”
“I’m sorry, Ashley.” Landon cupped her face with his hand.
“In here”—she made a fist and pressed it to her heart—“I was still just a girl, Landon. A girl who’d had her dream of painting ripped apart by one of the most popular new artists in Paris. But when I got home and realized what everyone thought of me—what I thought of myself—I knew my life would never be good again. Because . . .” She covered her face with her hands as a new wave of tears came.
Once more Landon circled her with his arms. “Because what?”
“Because . . .” She looked up at the blurred image of his face. “. . . I wasn’t worth anything. Not as an artist or as a person. I wasn’t . . . worth loving anymore.” She used the blanket to wipe her tears again. “There.” She sat up straighter. “Now you know.”
“Ah, Ashley.” Landon reached for her hands and held them in his own. “You don’t even know what you’re worth.”
“And Landon . . .” She had something else to say, and the pain of it tore at her heart. She’d told him the truth. Now it was time to let him go, to dismiss him from any obligation he might think he owed her. “You can let go of your silly dreams about me because I’m none of the things you thought I was.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. There was no point crying. The two of them would never have worked out anyway. Landon was pure and upright and good, and she was. . . . She sniffed again. “You deserve someone better than me.”
“Ashley, no . . .”
She squeezed his hands and let go, crossing her arms tightly against her body. “Don’t worry about it, Landon. I don’t expect you to call or come see me. Just make your plans and move to New York. Make a life for yourself, the kind of life you deserve.” Ashley blinked so she could see more clearly. “But when you remember me . . . remember the person you thought I was, okay, Landon? Not this.” She motioned to herself. “Not the truth.”
Landon’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “Don’t say that.” His voice was intense, filled with conviction. “I’m here, Ashley. I know the truth about you, and I’m not running. I’ll never run.”
She hung her head, and with tender fingers he lifted her chin. “No.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. “Don’t.”
“Come on, Ashley.” He brushed his thumb against her jaw. “Look at me.”
“I can’t.” Ashley’s heart raced within her. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Everything about her was wrong for him. She was about to jump up and run away when suddenly she realized what he’d just said.
“I’m here, Ashley. I’m here.”
Realization dawned in her heart. It was true, wasn’t it? He had cared enough to ask her about Paris the other night. And he cared enough to be here now while she told him the truth. How easy it would have been for him to pat her on the back and apologize, then bid her good-bye and go his own way.
Instead he was here. Even though he knew the ugliest things about her, he was here.
Slowly she turned her face toward him and opened her eyes.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Thank you.” His expression relaxed, and he sounded calmer than before. “What happened to you in Paris could have happened to anyone. You were young. You had a dream. Maybe you didn’t make the best choices, but I believe God redeems even the—”
“That’s another thing.” She studied him. “I was told that God loved me, God had a plan for me.” Ashley had never voiced these thoughts before. “But God’s plans are supposed to be good. And there was nothing good that came from that time in my life. Nothing.”
“That’s not true, Ashley.” Landon lifted his other hand so that her face was cradled in his warm fingers. “God does love you. He does have plans for your life. And even out of the darkest days of all, he gave you something wonderful.”
“What?” Ashley gripped Landon’s hands. “What good did God give me?”
Landon’s voice was barely loud enough to hear. “He gave you Cole.”
His answer was like a physical jolt, as though her perspective had in a moment’s time been altered forever.
Of course. Cole was the good that had come from Paris. Her beautiful, kindhearted little boy.
All these years, she’d thought of him as an embarrassment to her family, a consequence. She loved him, sure. But she also pitied him—the boy with no father, the boy with a mother who was often gone, often too preoccupied with her own guilt and shame to see that right there, sleeping one bedroom down the hall, was a child who loved her more than life. He was more than a painful reminder of all that had happened to her in Paris. He was a precious child, a treasure from God himself.
“Oh, Landon,” Ashley cried out loud. She stood and took three steps down the beach. Then she hung her head as a million memories came to mind of times when she had failed to see Cole as the gift he truly was.
He would bring her a rock or a feather or some other prize and hand it to her. “Here, Mommy, it’s for you.” His smile would light the room. But she wouldn’t be thinking about her love for Cole and how fortunate she was to be his mother. She’d be thinking that one day he’d know the truth about how he came to be. And then he’d hate her, like Luke did.
Of course, no one hated her as much as she hated herself. And that’s really why she hadn’t been able to receive Cole’s love. Hadn’t been able to receive anyone’s love—not even Landon’s.
Especially not Landon’s.
Ashley gritted her teeth. How many years had she wasted, refusing to allow herself to be close to Cole? or to anybody? Tears spilled from her eyes to the beach below.
Landon waited, giving her time to grieve. After several minutes she felt him come up behind her. He eased his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “You thought I wouldn’t love you if I knew about Paris? Is that it?”
“Who would blame you?” She let her head fall back against his chest. They were both facing the lake, staring straight ahead. “You thought I was like Kari or Erin or Brooke. A Baxter girl. But that’s not me; it never has been.” She sighed, tired of crying. It was too late for tears. Everything that had shaped her life had already happened. “I’m not the person you thought I was, Landon.”
With care, he turned her so she faced him. He kept his arms linked around her waist. “Yes, you are.”
Ashley’s hands fell loose to her sides. She lowered her brow. What was he saying? She wiped the wetness from beneath her eyes. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“Ever since I met you I’ve known who you are, Ashley—independent and daring, passionate and emotional. A girl with the guts to go to Paris alone and follow her dream. No, you’re not like your sisters. I never thought you were. Inside you beats a heart with more depth than any woman I know.” He searched her eyes. “Paris didn’t change that.”
Ashley’s head began to spin. Why was he telling her this now? How could he say such kind things after all she’d just told him? This was the part where he was supposed to say good-bye and be rid of her. “You don’t have to say that.”
“Look”—Landon exhaled hard—“I’m telling you the truth. It kills me, the things th
at man did to you. But your past doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is that you’re here now, safe and well and ready to let me see your heart.” His features softened. “Even just a little.”
Ashley looked deep into Landon’s eyes. Did he really love her that much? There, in the most secret places of his heart? So much that not even the truth about her past could sway his feelings for her?
“Landon, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
His eyes danced. “Don’t you see, Ashley?”
“See what?”
“For years I’ve prayed for this moment. You’ve already told me exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“I have?” Her tone was softer than before.
“Yes.” Landon leaned down and kissed her. Not the slow, tentative kiss of attraction like the ones they shared the other night at his house, but a kiss of longing that swept away a mountain of doubts and left nothing unsaid. When he came up for air, he was breathless. “Ashley, sweet Ashley . . . you trusted me with your past.” He dusted his lips along her cheekbone toward her ear, his voice a whisper. “And trust is the only way we’ll ever find out what tomorrow holds.”
They came together once more, their kiss longer, almost desperate. The feeling was more wonderful than anything Ashley could imagine—being wrapped in Landon’s arms, believing he loved her. Not just the outside part of her or some imaginary inside, but all of her. Every tainted back alley of her heart.
They were both trembling when Landon finally pulled away. “Okay.” He took her hand. “I need a break.” He pursed his lips and exhaled hard. “Let’s take a walk.”
Ashley laughed, and the sound of it danced across her mind. Never had she guessed this night would end with her and Landon kissing, laughing, holding hands as they walked along the shore. Even if Landon changed his mind about her after tonight, she would never regret telling him the truth. Not after what it had taught her about him, about herself.
And about Cole.
They were only partway down the beach when they saw a star shoot across the Indiana sky. The sight of it made them both stop in their tracks.
“Make a wish.” Landon squeezed her hand.
“Okay.” Ashley closed her eyes. She dreamed that someday, when Landon was finished fighting fires in New York City, they might have another night like this. Just one more night. She blinked her eyes open and shifted her gaze from the stars to the rugged outline of his face in the moonlight. “Your turn.”
Landon looked at her a long while, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I already made mine.”
They walked a little more, collected their beach chairs, and made their way back to the parking lot.
That night Ashley let Cole stay in her bed. Long after he was asleep, Landon’s words about her son stayed in her mind. Just before midnight, she leaned up on one elbow and stared at Cole, his small features and wispy blond bangs.
Then she did something she hadn’t done—not once since the day she’d found out she was pregnant.
She thanked God for her child and prayed that she would never again think of him as anything other than what he was:
The most precious, prized gift God had ever given her.
Chapter Seventeen
The discussion was going nowhere.
It was the tenth of September, minutes before eight o’clock, and anyone knew what that meant: Football season was about to begin. The first Monday Night Football game of the season was on television that night, and Luke had no intention of missing it. The problem was he’d agreed to play a late softball game with Reagan and her friends.
“Football, Luke?” They were standing outside her apartment. Reagan grinned at him and leaned against her car. She had a duffel bag of equipment slung over her shoulder. “The team needs you. We never have enough guys.”
Luke ran his fingers through his hair. The game was set to start in a few minutes. “Look, Reagan. You don’t understand. This is Ryan Taylor’s coaching debut. The Giants first regular game of the season. They’re at Denver, and anything could happen.” He hesitated and bent his leg, lifting it slightly off the ground. “Did I mention my ankle’s hurt?”
“Luke!” Reagan threw her hat at him. “Be serious.”
“No, really. I turned it playing hoops.”
“Luke . . .”
“Okay, tell you what.” Luke searched for a compromise. “I’ll play in the next five games. Just stay back tonight, and watch the game with me. Besides, it’s dark. No one plays softball this late.” He shot her his best smile. “Please?”
“The Giants?”
“Yes!” Luke took two steps back toward the building. There was no way he could miss this game. “New York’s finest!”
“Well . . .” Reagan was teasing, playing with him, and suddenly Luke was certain he’d won. “The Giants are my dad’s favorite team. Ever since my folks moved back to New York, he calls me after every game.”
“Exactly.” Luke waved one hand. “How can you have a meaningful father-daughter talk about your team if you miss the game?”
“Okay.” Reagan laughed. She let her sports bag slip off her shoulder, then tossed it to Luke. Reagan was an athlete in every sense of the word. She’d come to Indiana University from North Carolina on a volleyball scholarship. But she could just have easily done so on her softball talent. “The next five games? You promise?”
“Absolutely.”
He hefted her bag, grabbed Reagan’s hand, and pulled her at a jog up the stairs, down the hallway, and into her apartment. Suddenly he froze as he remembered Reagan’s roommate. “Is Wendy home?”
Reagan shook her head. “Not until Wednesday. She’s at a family reunion in California.”
“Good.” Luke dropped the bag and flipped on the television. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Yes, she does.” Reagan shoved him, her voice light and playful. “She just doesn’t like guys in the apartment.”
The announcers were just giving the starting lineup.
“Yes!” Luke dropped onto Reagan’s old sofa. “It hasn’t started.”
“Sometimes it’s scary”—Reagan tossed her baseball cap on the counter and sat down beside him—“how much you and my dad have in common.”
“He’s a good man.” Luke kept his eyes on the screen. “Hey, look!” He was on his feet, pointing at the picture. “There’s Ryan. See . . . right behind that guy with the clipboard!”
“With the dark hair?” Reagan had only heard about Ryan. She’d never seen him until now.
“That’s him.” Luke sat back down. “He’s so cool. Strong Christian, really loves God. Before he got hurt, he had the best set of hands in the NFL.”
“Hmmm.” Reagan grinned. “Not bad-looking, either.”
“He’s taken.” Luke elbowed her in the ribs. “Ryan Taylor will never love anyone but my sister Kari. Too bad for you.”
“Hey . . .” Reagan crooked her arm around Luke’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m just kidding. Besides, why would I be interested in some football coach when I’ve got you?”
Luke turned his head in her direction and brought his lips to hers. For a moment, the football game was forgotten. Then Luke pulled free of her embrace and pointed to the screen. “Come on, Reagan.” He elbowed her again. “Don’t distract me.”
“Fine.” A sigh slipped from her lips. “I’ll make sandwiches.” She stood and turned the corner into the kitchen.
When she was gone, Luke realized something. They were breaking their own rule. As a way of avoiding temptation, he and Reagan had decided never to be alone in her apartment for more than a few minutes at a time—and definitely not at night. Normally, Reagan’s roommate made the rule easy to keep.
But tonight . . . well, tonight he’d have to be very careful. Her kiss was a strong reminder of the reasons why.
He settled back against the sofa and thought for a moment. Why was he worried? This was different, wasn’t it? They weren’t here to be alone together. In fact, he would have g
one home to watch the game if it hadn’t been so late. But by the time he made it out to Clear Creek, where he lived with his parents, the first quarter would have been half over.
No, nothing would happen between them tonight. He’d just watch the game and be on his way. God was faithful. He wouldn’t let them be tempted on a night like this, a night when both their intentions were completely innocent.
The first half went quickly, with the Giants trailing fourteen to seven at halftime. By then they’d eaten their sandwiches. Luke sat at one end of the sofa while Reagan stretched out along the length of it, watching the game. She wore sweats and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Luke glanced at her occasionally, admiring her long legs and narrow waist.
There was something so real about her. Athletic, but at the same time better looking in a dress than a girl had a right to be. The combination drove him crazy, and though Luke had dated several girls before her, he hadn’t been joking that day in her father’s office. He could definitely see this relationship lasting. They shared the same viewpoint on every issue that mattered—including their faith. Every day Luke spent with Reagan, he fell more in love.
When the network broke away for a commercial, Reagan shifted and rested her feet across Luke’s lap. “I’m tired.”
“I can see that.” He cast her a wry glance and tapped her feet. “Are you comfortable?”
“Mmm, yes.” A smile made its way up Reagan’s cheeks, and she closed her eyes. “Good thing we didn’t play ball tonight. I wouldn’t have lasted three innings.”
“I guess not.” He tickled her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you can take up the whole couch and leave me squished at the end.”
“Hey!” She kicked him, giggling hard. Sitting up, she reached over and pulled him down beside her. “We can share.”
“Finally!” He laughed as she slid toward the front edge of the sofa, leaving room for him to stretch out behind her. The announcers were back, breaking down the game and analyzing how the Giants could tie the score.
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