“At any rate, that’s where Irvel was when Krista returned.” Lu was clearly devastated by the details of the story. Telling it appeared to have sapped her strength. “By that time, Irvel was writhing on the floor in pain, and her arms were already discoloring. Krista heard Belinda say, ‘Serves you right, you crazy old bird. You better get to your chair and stay there. You try to leave again, and next time it’ll be worse.’ ”
Ashley was horrified. If Belinda had been there, she would have gladly pulled the woman’s hair out and thrown her through the window. “What happened then?”
“Let’s just say Belinda was very surprised to see Krista. She stumbled over her words and finally explained that Irvel had fallen.” Lu exhaled hard. “Krista had the good sense to find a private phone and call me with the story. I called the police and met them in the living room fifteen minutes later. A doctor was here within the hour.”
Ashley shook her head, her fists tight. “I barely recognized Irvel this morning.”
“The doctor says her wounds are mostly superficial.”
“Right.” Ashley huffed. “Did you see the fear in her eyes? She’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“I know.”
There wasn’t much else either of them could say about the incident. Lu went over the details of Ashley’s new job title and pay increase. She had hired a bookkeeper who would begin the following Monday. Until then, Lu would stay each day and run the office.
By eight-thirty, Ashley and Lu were finished talking, and Ashley set about making breakfast. Edith and Helen joined her at the table and introduced themselves. Before the meal was over, Ashley remembered the bathroom mirror. She slipped away, covered it with a sheet, and returned to the table.
Ashley spent the next two hours bathing Irvel and the others and making sure everyone had tea. Then, when the residents were all napping, Ashley went out to her car and brought in the saddle and sawhorse. At lunchtime she lugged them down the hallway into Bert’s room. He was nibbling crackers and sipping soup from a small bowl, and he looked up when she entered.
“Hi, Bert.” Ashley slid the sawhorse across the room and positioned it near the foot of his bed. “I’ve got something for you.”
Bert said nothing and directed his attention back to the soup.
Ashley took hold of the saddle and swung it over the sawhorse. Then she reached into a bag and pulled out an oilcloth. She sat on the edge of Bert’s bed and waited for him to finish eating. Every day for the past two weeks she’d regretted not being able to carry out this plan. Now that she was here, no one could stop her.
Ashley couldn’t wait.
Finally, Bert finished and pushed his tray aside. As he struggled to his feet, Ashley came alongside him. “Look, Bert. I brought you a saddle. I wondered if you could shine it for me.”
Bert stared at the floor and resisted some. But after a moment, he allowed Ashley to lead him to the sawhorse. She positioned him directly in front of it, facing the saddle. Then she tucked the oilcloth into his hand, lifted it, and set it squarely in the middle of the saddle. “There, Bert. You can shine it now.”
All the time she’d worked with Bert, he’d never expressed any emotion whatsoever. Not anger or sorrow or loneliness. Nothing. Now, as Bert felt the oilcloth connect with the saddle, he stood utterly still. Ashley took a step back, staring at Bert’s hand, holding her breath while she waited to see what he would do next. She half expected him to sidestep the sawhorse and return to the edges of his bed, where he’d been making circles as long as anyone could remember.
But he didn’t move.
He fixed his gaze on the saddle, and then it happened. He began to rub small, tender circles up and down the length of it. After a few seconds, his other hand came up and gripped the saddle. His fingers moved over the worn leather in a practiced manner, as though they were coming to life after years of being dormant.
Ashley could barely keep quiet. Bert understood what the object was! He recognized the feel of the saddle beneath his hands. With each passing minute, his shoulders grew straighter and his movements less trancelike, more purposeful.
She was still staring at the saddle, watching Bert’s hands as they rubbed circles on the leather, when Ashley saw a tiny water drop hit the surface. Then another. What was this?
She shot a look up at Bert’s face. Only then did she understand exactly how much Bert had needed a saddle. His eyes told Ashley everything she needed to know.
Because now, as he rubbed a saddle for the first time in decades, Bert was doing something Ashley had never seen him do before.
He was crying.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ryan Taylor had made his decision.
Now he stood in the middle of the Giants’ practice field and stared at the stadium’s lighted American flag billowing at one end. It was twenty-two degrees that night, and the skies were clear. Still, the winter wind cut at Ryan, and he wrapped his parka more tightly around his neck and face.
What a ride it had been, coaching in the NFL—minicamps and summer camps, the preseason and every hard-fought game since then, the emotional jolt of being so close to Ground Zero after September 11, then a disappointing season that had left them a dismal seven and nine in league.
Ryan studied the flag. No matter what the record showed, the New York Giants were winners. And so were their fans—the people of New York City. Long after wins and losses were forgotten, the tragedy of September 11 and its horrifying impact on the people of this town would resonate deep in Ryan’s heart. He would never again look at an American flag without seeing the tattered one that had been pulled from the rubble of the twin towers, never hear mention of the terrorist attacks without picturing the way those flaming buildings looked through the window of his own apartment.
In fact, even as late as three weeks ago, when the Giants were on a winning streak, Ryan had spent hours wondering how he could convince Kari to move to New York and tag along behind him while he coached.
He had kept his thoughts to himself whenever he and Kari talked, careful not to bring up the subject. What could he say when most of the time he’d been too confused about the future even to guess at what he wanted to do?
I love Kari, God. He would pray the same way several times each day. Show me what I’m supposed to do. Tell me where you want me and whether the timing’s right for us.
In the end, the decision had been made for him. Ryan smiled and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. Not by the coaching staff—although it appeared that way—but by God himself. The Lord had peered into his heart and known there was only one way Ryan Taylor could be happy. Even now Ryan was certain that what happened at the end of the season had been a direct answer to his prayers.
“We’ll be making some coaching changes.” That was how the Giants’ head coach had put it to him.
Ryan had understood what the man was saying. Because of his constant praying, he hadn’t been angry or disappointed. The turnover rate was higher in professional coaching than in just about any other field. It was the nature of the job—win or else. After the Giants’ losing season, coaching changes were inevitable, as were the offers from other teams. The moment Ryan was officially released from his contract with the Giants, half a dozen other teams had wanted to interview him. Denver, Oakland, Detroit, Chicago—for a week after the season ended, the list had seemed to grow each day.
Now it was mid-January, and Ryan had spoken with owners from every team that called. But only this afternoon had he made the decision to contact each of them with his answer.
Ryan sucked in a breath of freezing air and took one last look. Then he headed out the side entrance to his car and home to an apartment, where he planned to spend the evening packing.
After a year in the NFL, Ryan Taylor was walking away.
Not to a position with another team. Not to a spot in the analysts’ booth for one of the networks—another offer that had come his way last week.
But to Bloomington, Indiana, and to a
woman who’d captured his heart when he was barely more than a boy.
* * *
Kari opened her door and smiled at the familiar young woman on her front step. “Hi, Erin. Come in.”
At first, Erin had been terrified to learn that the person she’d be studying with was her very own sister. But Kari had promised her anonymity—the same as if they hadn’t known each other. Now, several weeks since they’d begun meeting together, they were finally getting to the heart of the issues.
The problem wasn’t surprising. Erin didn’t want to move away. She didn’t trust Sam or love him enough to follow him to Texas. And when she and Kari first began meeting, she had no plans to change her opinion.
They had spoken about Erin’s male friend, and Kari had convinced her sister that such a relationship could only get her in trouble. After that, she had finally given Erin an assignment.
“I want you to remember why you fell in love with Sam.” Kari had handed Erin a booklet. “There are some examples in here, but let’s go over some simple things you can do.”
Kari explained that Erin could read cards and letters Sam had written her back in their dating days or watch their wedding video. Photographs could help her remember special times when love was new. Then, when the memories were fresh, Erin could write a list of things she’d appreciated about Sam back then.
“Remembering why you fell in love with your husband is like training your heart to look for those same qualities in him now.”
Erin’s response was fairly typical. “What if he’s changed?”
Kari smiled. She’d felt the same way back when she and Tim were in counseling. “Believe me”—Kari patted her sister’s hand—“those things you liked about Sam are still there. Even if you have to look harder to find them.”
“Then what?”
“Honor him . . . compliment him. Build him up so he knows you still love him.”
Erin had been skeptical at first. But now, as she stood on the step, a rare smile lit her face. Before she even came in, she opened her arms and hugged Kari close. “Thank you so much, Kari.”
Kari felt her heartbeat quicken. She pulled back and searched Erin’s eyes. “Thank you for what?”
“It worked!” Erin moved into Kari’s living room, pulling Kari behind her. “It was the best week we’ve had in years.”
“You mean because you remembered why you loved him?”
“Yes! I thought it was crazy—outdated, one-sided, whatever. It didn’t make any sense to me at all. But nothing else was working, so I figured I’d give it a shot. Two days later, Sam and I went a whole evening without fighting. He became a completely different person. Kari, I’m serious. Whatever else you have to say, I’m ready to listen.”
Kari couldn’t contain her joy. She giggled, grabbing Erin’s hands and squeezing them. “You know why, don’t you?”
“I don’t know why. I just know it works.” Erin blinked back tears.
“Because it’s from God.” Kari breathed a silent prayer, thanking God for Erin’s breakthrough. “God wants us to remember our first love—both with him and with our spouse. When we remember that way, we’re better able to honor the person we’re unhappy with. After that, everything else falls into place.”
Kari opened her Bible and spread it out on her lap. “Today we’ll go a little deeper. . . .”
* * *
Kari shivered as she walked out of church that Sunday morning.
It had been a moving sermon. Pastor Mark had encouraged the congregation to examine their lives and then move forward. “Aim for the high road, the place where God wants you,” he’d told them. “And don’t let anything get in your way.”
No regrets, he’d said. Make the most of every opportunity so that when life was over, that one statement would be true.
During the message, Kari had glanced down the row at Ashley. Her younger sister was nodding and taking careful notes. Was it possible that just a year ago Ashley would have laughed at the thought of even going to church? Yet here she was, growing in her faith—sold-out to Christ.
Kari’s study with her sister Erin had continued, and although Erin and Sam still had their differences, their marriage grew stronger every week. Erin had confided to Kari that she was pretty sure she would be moving to Texas with her husband when the time came.
Brooke and Peter continued to attend church—though Maddie had been sick again lately, and they’d missed some Sundays. Still, the impact of September 11 remained with them, convincing them they needed God.
All the Baxters were where they should be. Everyone except Luke.
Kari remembered the look on her father’s face when she’d asked him earlier that morning if Luke might be coming. Cole was going to sing a solo in church with the kids’ choir, and Ashley had invited Luke.
“I don’t think so.” Her father’s eyes were heavy with pain. “He told Ashley he didn’t think it would be appropriate.”
How had her brother’s views become so twisted? Kari didn’t know, but she would make a point to call Luke that week and talk with him. Maybe if she reminded him that he was loved and prayed for . . .
She reached her car and shifted Jessie to her opposite hip so she could use the keys. Her daughter was eight months old now and jabbering constantly. Although the rest of her life still hung in an uncertain balance, Kari was deeply grateful for her little girl. She opened the back door and buckled Jessie into her car seat. Then she pulled a bottle from her bag and handed it to her.
“There you go, sweetie. We’ll be home in a few minutes, and you can take a nap.”
Kari moved to the driver’s door but stopped short. An envelope was pinned beneath her wipers.
Strange, Kari thought. She glanced at the other cars around her. Hers was the only one with something on the windshield. The envelope was damp, so she opened it slowly, careful not to rip the letter inside.
The moment she unfolded the paper, her heart skipped a beat. The handwriting was Ryan’s. But Ryan was in New York. In fact, he’d been so busy with meetings he hadn’t called her for several days.
Her eyes scanned the short note:
Dear Kari,
Meet me at Lake Monroe in an hour. I’ll be at our spot waiting for you.
There was no name, no signature, nothing but the handwriting to convince her that the note was from Ryan. Kari stared at the words again—the way the circles didn’t quite come together and the loops looked almost like straight lines. It was his, wasn’t it? Could it have been someone else’s?
No, it wasn’t possible.
Ryan was the only person she knew who wrote like that.
Kari was still studying the note, trying to figure out what to make of it, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around. “Dad!” She was breathless. “You scared me.”
Her father’s eyes held a twinkle. “Sorry.” He grinned. “Your mother and I were just wondering if we could watch Jessie this afternoon.” He cooed at the baby. “We, uh, thought you might need the help.”
Kari clutched the note but let her hand drop to her side. “Help for what?”
“Oh, you know,” her mother’s voice teased, “in case you need a few hours to yourself this afternoon.”
John nodded. “To hang out at the lake or something.”
At the lake? Kari looked at the note in her hand once more. “Wait a minute! You guys know about this?”
“Hmm.” Her father’s eyes grew wide with mock innocence. “My goodness, what’s that?”
Kari’s mom grinned. “Looks like a note!” Her parents nudged each other. “Wonder who could have left it on your car?”
Kari grabbed her mother’s arm. “Mom, if you’ve seen Ryan, you have to tell me. Come on! I need to know.”
Her dad shrugged. “All I know is a little bird . . .” He looked at her mother again.
“A big bird, actually.”
John nodded. “Okay, a big bird told us you might need help with Jessie this afternoon. Somethi
ng about a visit to Lake Monroe—wasn’t that it?”
“Yes, I think so.” Her mom pointed to Kari’s car. “How about you follow us back to our house, get Jessie comfortable in her crib, and find an extra coat and some gloves.”
“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.” Her father made a zipping motion across his lips. “We’re really not.”
Kari laughed. There was no point pushing the matter. She did as her parents said, followed them back to their house, and changed into something warm to wear. When Jessie was down for her nap, she set out for Lake Monroe. The whole time, her heart soared with happiness. The note had to be from Ryan. Somehow he’d already talked to her parents and arranged for them to watch Jessie. But why the mystery? And why Lake Monroe, when they could have visited just as easily at her parents’ house?
She pulled into the parking lot exactly one hour after finding the note and peered down toward the edge of the water. There—sitting atop a frozen picnic table—was Ryan. She would have recognized his profile, his build, a hundred yards away.
The moment he heard her car, he turned and grinned. It was him! He had come and turned a cold, wintry Sunday into the warmest day in weeks. With careful steps she made her way down the slick bank. He stood and waited, his eyes fixed on hers.
When she was only a few feet away, she stopped and studied him.
“I see you got my note.”
“I did.” She took another step toward him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
He held out his hands, and she came to him willingly, unable to wait another minute to be in his arms, to feel his warmth against her. “You’re really here. I can’t believe it, Ryan. I knew it was your writing, but still . . .” She snuggled her face against his shoulder. “I thought it might be weeks before you could get away.”
“Well . . .” He drew back, and their eyes met and held. “I had this question I couldn’t ask you on the phone.” His eyes shone with a love so real and true it warmed Kari to the deepest places in her heart. “I figured the only way to ask it was to come here and do it in person.”
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