Unlocked: A Love Story

by Karen Kingsbury

  He had to find her first.

  5

  A stack of old photographs sat on the kitchen table, a monument to all that had once been. John filled the coffeemaker with water and tried not to look at the pictures. Today was the day. The first interview. Cole and Ashley would be here soon.

  John glanced at the clock on the wall. The one Elizabeth had bought for him on their tenth anniversary. Because time is our greatest gift, she’d told him. John had kept it because, well, he and Elaine needed a clock. No sense getting another one. And none of the kids wanted it. A clock on the wall seemed no longer a necessity what with phones and watches and computers and microwaves.

  The time was everywhere.

  But today the clock practically screamed at him, reminding him of one very special truth: Though time had moved on, today it would take him back. All the way back to the beginning. John clicked the brew button on the coffeemaker and sauntered toward the old clock. It looked a little crooked. He adjusted it one way and then the other until it was perfect.

  Can she see me, God . . . my Elizabeth? Does she know the journey I’m about to take? He paused. Would You tell her I miss her, Father. Please, would You do that?

  John turned away from the clock and sat at the table. The stack of photographs contained images of some of the happiest moments he’d ever known, from the first time he locked eyes with Elizabeth to the birth of Brooke. That was all Cole needed. He had only asked about the beginning of their love story. How it all started. After Brooke, the story became always and ever happier.

  Until Elizabeth’s cancer.

  A sigh worked its way up from John’s heart. He’d been through every single photo. These were copies of the best of them—starting with their first picture together. The one someone had shot at the mixer, the dance where they met.

  Elaine walked into the kitchen and smiled. He’d almost forgotten she was here, working on one of her handmade quilts in the next room.

  “Coffee smells good.”

  “Thanks. I made hot chocolate for Cole.”

  “Good idea.” She came to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s chilly. Nothing like a warm drink and a good story.”

  John studied her, looking for any sense of bitterness or jealousy. He saw none. “I want you to be part of the story. Stay, would you?” He took her hand. “Please.”

  “You know I want you to do this, right?” She took the seat beside him, a bit weary.

  “Of course. You told me to do it.” His heart beat faster and alarm filled his soul. Where is she going with this? “Are you changing your mind? Elaine . . .” He took hold of her hand. “Cole and Ashley will be here in ten minutes.”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” Her voice was kind, but her eyes held a pain John had never seen before. “It’s just . . . you’ve been distracted this week. Like you slipped back into some other time and sort of, I don’t know . . . forgot about me.”

  “Elaine . . .” John felt a physical ache. He didn’t want any of this to hurt her. “I’m so sorry. I never meant . . .” He wasn’t sure what to say.

  She was right.

  John had spent much of the week going through the photos, remembering the beautiful and painful times that made up his and Elizabeth’s story. “I’m sorry.” His mind raced for something to say, something that would help ease the uncomfortable feeling between them. “If you stay . . . maybe this can be about us sharing the story. Not just me. You’d feel more included.”

  “John.” Elaine angled her head and gave him a doubtful look, the sort of disbelieving look she might give if John had said he was going to sprout wings. “There’s no way I can be included in your story. It’s yours and Elizabeth’s. Period.”

  This hadn’t happened since John had married Elaine, a reason to go back and relive once more the details of his story. He searched Elaine’s eyes. “I don’t want this to come between us.”

  “It won’t.” She picked up the photo at the top of the stack—the one of John and Elizabeth at that first dance. Elaine looked at it for a long time and then turned to John. “You think I can be here while you go through these photos? While you talk about how young and beautiful she was, and how you would’ve gone to the moon for her?” Tears welled in her eyes.

  John felt terrible, but there was nothing he could say. If he was honest with himself, now that she’d given him her blessing on this project, John was looking forward to spending time in the past. Where Elizabeth’s memory still lived. “It all happened so long ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Elaine set the photo down. She was quiet for nearly a minute, as if she was choosing her words with great care. “John . . . I love you. But I can’t be here.” For a brief moment a shadow of sadness seemed to fall over her. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find things to do, and this will pass.”

  He hoped so. But that’s exactly what John was worried about; how long it would take to find his way back to the place he’d been before all this. The easy way of living and thinking and following God with Elaine by his side. The life they’d lived before Cole came by last week.

  Life with Elaine was happy. Their days were beautiful and meaningful. Sure, he thought about Elizabeth every now and then. Her memory was a part of him. He could see her in the faces of their children. But he didn’t live in the past.

  After the next month, he wasn’t so sure.

  Elaine stood and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to Margaret’s. She’s working on a quilt, too. We’re going to stitch together and catch up.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. He could tell she wasn’t angry.

  “I understand.” This was all John’s fault. He’d have to work to remember her feelings, to not be consumed with the story he was about to tell. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “It’s okay.” Again, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I want you to talk freely. Like I said before, Cole deserves this story.” She smiled. “After four Thursdays I’ll probably have three quilts. Which is fine by me.”

  He stood and brushed his knuckles softly against her face. “You’re amazing. If I haven’t told you lately.”

  “Mmmm. Even if you have, I like it.” She didn’t seem in a hurry. They still had five minutes until Cole and Ashley would be there. She moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a covered plate of fruit. “Have you heard from Kendra lately?”

  “This morning.” John was thankful for the connection his family had with Kendra Bryant. She was the recipient of his daughter Erin’s heart, and last Christmas Eve she and her husband, Moe, had met the whole Baxter family. The meeting hadn’t been easy, but since then Kendra called once a week, just to update John. “She and Moe found a church they like. Their marriage is doing much better.”

  “How amazing.” Elaine looked happier now, more like herself. They would get through these weeks and everything would be okay. John followed Elaine as she gathered her purse and the fruit and her bag with the unfinished quilt. When they were at the door she turned to him once more. “We have to keep praying for them. Kendra and Moe.”

  “Definitely.” John heard the sound of a car and looked out the door in time to see Ashley and Cole pull up. “They’re here.”

  Elaine waited long enough to greet Ashley and Cole. John watched her, the easy way she had with both of them. Elaine and Ashley had come so far from the days when Ashley was so very troubled by John remarrying.

  When Elaine was gone, Ashley cast John a wary look. “Is she okay?”

  “She is.” John moved toward the oversized chair beside the fireplace. He put the stack of photographs on the end table. “Elaine thinks this is important.” He smiled at Cole. “I do, too.”

  “Good.” Ashley’s smile was marked with empathy. “I’ve been thinking about her. This can’t be easy.”

  “It’s not.” John hugged her. Cole was rummaging through his backpack. Only Ashley could hear him. “We’ll get through it. We talked this morning.”

  Ashley hugged him aga
in. “Thanks for doing this. It means the world to Cole.” She met his eyes. “And to me.”

  “Same here.” John smiled at her, as they both took their seats. Cole pulled a notebook, pen, and a single piece of paper from his backpack. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” He sat down and opened the notebook. “I printed a list of questions.”

  “Great.” John’s heart beat a little faster than before. “Where should we start?”

  Cole positioned his pen over his pad of paper. “First, I forgot to ask you about an ancillary character.” He looked up at John. “That means secondary.”

  John smiled. “Got it.”

  “I need at least one ancillary character to get an A.” Cole raised his brow. “Someone besides family.”

  “Okay.” John thought for a second. “Well, near the end of the story you’ll hear about this one man, he was a Vietnam vet. He could be an ancillary character.”

  “Wow!” Cole checked his notes again. “That sounds perfect. We get extra credit if we interview that person.”

  “Hmmm.” John could still picture the man, the deep lines in his forehead, the way he had been full of life and zeal for God. As if he’d never been a part of the war at all. “I lost track of him a very long time ago. But you could try!”

  “Yeah, maybe Facebook.” Cole took a deep breath. “All right, Papa. How bout we start at the beginning? Like when you first met Grandma.”

  A quick laugh. “Good idea.” John leaned forward in his chair.

  Where do I begin, Lord? Memories and thoughts swirled in his head. Nothing about their beginning had been easy—for John or Elizabeth.

  Ashley sat next to Cole on the couch across from John. She hugged a pillow against her stomach, the way she used to do during family movies when she was a teenager. Her eyes looked nervous, like she wasn’t quite sure what was coming.

  And she wasn’t. John was positive about that. Ashley and her siblings knew only the basic time line of their parents’ story. They knew nothing of their crazy sad love story or how their beginning was so painfully difficult. Or how easily they could’ve missed coming together at all.

  Cole was perched on the edge of the sofa, pen poised over the open notebook. “Okay. Ready.”

  An idea hit John. He had planned to start with the dance, the night he first met Elizabeth. But that wasn’t really the beginning. It wasn’t the place where their stories started. John’s mind raced. “Maybe I should talk about our early history. My life and your grandmother’s life—before we met.”

  Cole stared at his notes for a minute. When he looked up his eyes brightened. “I’d like that. My teacher wants context. I can’t write about your beginning without knowing the stuff that came even earlier.”

  Ashley leaned back, her arms still folded over the pillow. She was here as a spectator, clearly glad for the up-close seat to any story John might tell. Any reservation Ashley had shown before must’ve been linked to her concern for Elaine. Now that the story was about to begin, she was as interested as Cole.

  “Well, neither of us had it easy in the years that led up to us meeting.” John could see that better now. His kids and grandkids had never known the hardships he and Elizabeth had lived through. He was grateful to God for that.

  John drew a deep breath. “My parents were both dead by the time I met your grandmother. And I had no siblings.” John could remember how he felt, living without a family. “My dad died in the Korean War when I was just nine years old. My mom passed away about three years later from pneumonia.” He paused. “But everyone said she died of a broken heart.”

  Cole was writing as quickly as he could. After half a minute he looked at John. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Me, either.” Ashley stared at John. “Or maybe I knew. But I didn’t realize you were so young.”

  “So . . .” Cole checked the notebook. “You were just twelve and both your parents were gone?”

  “Yes.” John could still feel the isolation of being an orphan. He had no aunts or uncles, no one to take him in. He leaned over his knees and folded his hands. “There was this one family, they lived across the street. Their kids were younger than me, but when the parents heard I was about to be a ward of the state, they stepped up and became my guardians.”

  “Wow.” Again Cole was writing as quickly as he could. “What were their names?”

  “Wesley. Jeff and Joan Wesley. Their boys were Bill and Steve.”

  Again Ashley sounded surprised. “The state just let them take you? With no home study from social services?”

  “Things were different then.” John nodded. “They were great people. Really. They became my family. And they were Christians. I’d never really heard much about God before that.”

  “You didn’t believe in Him?” Cole looked shocked.

  “My parents didn’t believe. I’d never been to church.” John shrugged. “But even after I moved in with the Wesleys, I didn’t believe. I went to church with them, but I couldn’t get past the obvious.”

  “If God was real, why did He take your parents?” Ashley sounded sad. “That’s awful.”

  John nodded. “So that was me. Living with this family I had come to love, not a believer, and determined to get my medical degree. It felt like a way to make my life matter. Becoming a doctor.”

  “Hmmm. That’s exactly the sort of context I need.” It took Cole a minute to catch up with his note-taking. “What about Grandma?”

  “She was younger.” John lifted his gaze to the window, to the blue sky beyond. “Only nineteen.” He hesitated. This next part was sad, too. “Your grandma’s parents were very strict. They wouldn’t let her date or dance or listen to popular music. And she certainly couldn’t spend time with boys. Not at all. Those were their rules and nothing could change their minds.”

  “So did Grandma believe in God?” Cole looked up from his notes.

  The boy’s question was a good one. “Not really.”

  “What!” Ashley straightened in her seat. “Are you serious? I never knew that!”

  “It’s true.” This was only the beginning of what Ashley didn’t know. “Your mother went through the motions. But her parents had made faith so unattractive that Christianity was just a religion to her. A system.” He paused. “Not a relationship with God, the way Jesus describes it in Scripture. Like it’s supposed to be.”

  “Wow . . . so sad.” Cole looked at his list of questions. “Okay, then . . . how did you and Grandma meet?”

  How did we meet? John’s heart skipped a beat. He could see the dance hall and hear the music. The dusty smell off the old wood-planked floor filled his senses again. He reached for the picture on the top of the stack. For a few seconds he stared at it. Then he looked at Cole. “It was the fall of 1974. I was a second-year medical student at the University of Michigan.”

  Cole looked up. “U of M? The Wolverines?” His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t know you went there, Papa.”

  “I did.” He felt a sense of satisfaction. This wouldn’t only be a time to relive his past with Elizabeth. These hours would teach Cole more about who his grandparents had been. Details Cole could tell his kids and grandkids one day.

  “So that’s why you’re a Michigan football fan.” Cole shook his head. “I guess I should’ve known.”

  “I have a number of favorite teams.” John chuckled. “It’d be easy to miss the fact that Michigan is my alma mater. Undergrad and med school.”

  “I told you a long time ago, Cole.” Ashley gave Cole a quick smile. “You must’ve been too young to remember.”

  “Probably. Anyway . . .” Cole looked at his notes. “So you were a med student at U of M.”

  “Yes.” John glanced at the picture again. “Technically I shouldn’t have been there that night. The dance was for underclassmen. But Bill Wesley asked me to go, so I did.” He laughed again. “Five minutes after I got there, I was ready to leave when your grandmother walked in. Honestly, she was . . .”

  As John spoke,
he easily fell into the story. He was no longer sitting in the living room fifty years later. He was back at that dance hall once more, cup of punch in his hand, worn-out suit hanging from his thin frame.

  And like that, the decades disappeared and the memory of that night came to life again. The way John had known it would. He didn’t fight it, didn’t work to stay in the here and now. If he was going to go back, then he wanted to relive it. All of it.

  He breathed in deep and let the story come.

  6

  The Big Bopper belted through the tinny music system that night in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Tucked near the back of campus, the dance hall was a favorite spot for students. Dances were always packed and the hall stayed open till midnight. U of M held mixers there every other Friday night and this was the first of the school year.

  The rule was the same each time. Only underclassmen could attend the dances. Period.

  The idea that John might go to the dance came from Bill Wesley, a freshman that year. Bill begged John to come, mostly because Bill didn’t think the night would go well if he attended by himself. That year, Bill was a skinny kid with bushy blond hair and pale skin. A few years and he would grow into his lanky frame, but still back then he was probably right about needing John.

  Since Bill was like a little brother, John agreed.

  He didn’t doubt himself until he walked through the doors and saw the students. “That’s it. I’m too old.” John turned toward the door. He had to get out of there before one of the administrators saw him. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”

  “No one cares.” Bill grabbed his arm. “Everyone says it’s a dumb rule. No one enforces it.” He talked loud enough to be heard over the music. “Besides, you can’t leave. You’re my secret weapon. My ace-in-the-hole. The girls won’t look twice at me if you’re not here.”

  “The girls will find you. Have you looked in the mirror, Bill? You’re a regular Casanova.” John reached into his pocket for his car keys. “I’m out.”