Unlocked: A Love Story

by Karen Kingsbury

  “My daughter?” He shook his head. “We’re not interested. She’s not interested.” He stepped back to shut the door. “Besides, she’s too young to date.”

  Elizabeth had reached the place where she was almost standing next to her father. “Daddy . . . he needs to talk to you.” She put her hand on his arm, but he jerked away. They’d come too far for either of them to turn back now.

  “Sir, if you’d let me in.” John waited. He didn’t want to have the conversation on the porch.

  “Please, Daddy.” Elizabeth sounded stronger than John had ever heard her before. “We need to talk to you and Mama. Both of us.”

  Her father’s scowl worsened. “I have no interest in speaking to this boy, whatever he has to say.” He hesitated. “Leave this house now, you hear me? Leave or I’ll—”

  Elizabeth’s mother had come up behind her husband. She must’ve caught the gist of the conversation, because she put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s hear the young man out.”

  The woman didn’t look any happier than Elizabeth’s father. But at least she was willing to listen to what John had to say. What they both had to say. An awkward few minutes later they were seated in the family living room. John and Elizabeth together on one sofa. Her parents beside each other on the other.

  Another person could’ve sat between them for the space John was careful to leave. He started the conversation. “I realize you don’t know me. But I’ve been dating your daughter for the past several weeks.”

  It was a bad beginning to the conversation, and things went downhill from there. John explained that the two of them had fallen in love and then John said something he hadn’t planned to say. Not yet anyway.

  “I want to marry your daughter, sir.” His eyes found those of his nemesis across from him. “I’d like your permission for her hand.”

  The yelling began then. “You’re out of your mind, boy.” Her dad was on his feet. “Get out of my house.” He pointed toward the front door. “Now!”

  At that point Elizabeth was on her feet, too. “Daddy! Sit down! Please! John’s not going anywhere.” She looked at John, and despite the anger and tension of the moment, her eyes told him yes. Yes, she wanted to marry him. As much as he wanted to marry her.

  “What’s this all about?” Her mother slid to the edge of the sofa. Uptight didn’t begin to describe her expression. “Elizabeth, you sit down. And don’t ever take that tone with your father.”

  All of them sat once more, and John had no choice. He swallowed hard. “Sir, this is complicated.”

  Elizabeth reached over and took John’s hand. He had never loved her more. “Daddy, I’m pregnant.” She took a quick breath. Again, John could see her heart beating at the hollow of her throat. “John and I are going to have a baby.”

  No matter how hard John tried he couldn’t remember everything that happened next. For nearly an hour, everyone took turns yelling and crying and making sweeping statements about what the plan of action should be. But the bottom line was simply this:

  John couldn’t take care of Elizabeth. He was a medical student, not a doctor. No matter how he might be able to support her in the years to come, he wasn’t there now. And her parents made it very clear that the two weren’t welcome to live with them.

  Then Elizabeth’s father produced an ultimatum. She would withdraw from school and leave for a home for unwed teens. Perhaps in Minnesota. Or maybe Wisconsin or Illinois. Somewhere far enough so John couldn’t find her, couldn’t see her.

  Elizabeth would go away and have the baby, and then she would give the infant up for adoption. At that point, she would return to Ann Arbor and start school again.

  As if nothing had ever happened.

  Elizabeth told John later that she had wanted to scream or throw something, gather her belongings and run out the door all the way to his house. But what were her options? John certainly understood why Elizabeth felt trapped.

  She explained everything to him the next day before class. Her parents were making the call to withdraw her later that afternoon. John figured the two of them had just one last chance. He went home that day and told the Wesleys. They weren’t angry or demeaning. They admitted these things happen.

  But even if John and Elizabeth married that week, there was no way the two of them could move in with them. Not enough room. “It was one thing to take you in.” Mr. Wesley was kind as he gave his answer. “We cannot take in you and your wife and a baby. I’m sorry.”

  And that was that.

  John could do nothing to stop the chain of events that followed. He felt like a statue, his heart more stone than flesh. He was powerless to change things, unable to be with Elizabeth or even talk to her. The day after the Wesleys told him no, John went to her English class and waited for her.

  But she never came out.

  Like her dad had promised, she’d been pulled from school. So he drove to her house the next night at two in the morning. Her parents wouldn’t be awake then, he figured. He was right. John tapped on Elizabeth’s window, and she slipped out. She was wearing a long flannel nightgown, and she began crying as soon as she saw him.

  “You came!” Her voice was a tortured cry.

  “Shh . . .” She was in his arms now and he whispered into her hair. “We can’t let them hear us.”

  “Right.” She stifled the sound of her sobs and clung to him. “I’m so scared, John. I leave in a week. I don’t even know where I’m going. Somewhere in Illinois. That’s what I heard my father say.”

  For a long while they held each other. Time was short, so John got to the point. “We need a plan. They can’t keep us apart forever.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Her beautiful eyes were so afraid. “Like what?”

  John’s mind raced, desperate for a solution. “Try to find out where you’re going. You can tell Betsy and she can tell me. Then I’ll come to you, Elizabeth.”

  Her tears came harder. “What about the baby?” She put her hand on her stomach. “I don’t want to lose our child, John. It’s not fair.”

  John had wrestled with this, too. Her father was right about one thing. Elizabeth was young. She deserved the chance to finish her education. Until now John hadn’t known whether she wanted to raise the baby or not. “So . . . you’re saying you do want to get married? Keep our child?”

  “Of course. School can come later. Or not at all.” She used the palms of her hands to wipe her tears. “I want us to be a family.”

  John had never felt more helpless. “We have nowhere to live, no money.” He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “I’ll find a way to make it work, Elizabeth. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  They kissed goodbye, both of them desperate to see a light at the end of their tunnel. John almost wished he had a faith in God. Because he needed help now more than ever. Instead, as they were kissing a light came on at the back of the house. Elizabeth jerked away. “I have to go.”

  “I love you.” John helped her up and through her window.

  “I love you, too. Come tomorrow, John. Please.”

  He was moving away now, heading for the street. He’d parked several houses down. “I will. I promise.”

  His feet pounded a rhythm keeping time with his heart as he made his way to his car and drove off. Over the next few days he couldn’t call her, didn’t know how she was feeling or what she was doing or where her parents were about to send her. That night he waited up until two in the morning and again he went to her house.

  But this time she wasn’t there. He could see her bed through a crack in the curtains. It was empty. John took a few steps away from the window, shocked. What was he supposed to do now? Where had they taken her? Just then the front porch light flicked on.

  “I knew that was you last night.” Her father spat the words in his direction. “She’s gone, John Baxter. We moved her to a place where you can’t find her.” He took a couple menacing steps in John’s direction. “Don’t come here. Not ever again.”

  There was not
hing John could say. Nothing he could do.

  The next day he talked to Betsy. “Find her for me. Please.” He must’ve sounded desperate because she looked almost alarmed. His voice broke. “I have to see her before she leaves.”

  By then Betsy knew about the pregnancy. “I’ll try, John . . . Her dad would kill me if he knew I was talking to you.”

  He thanked her but after a few days Betsy got back to him. Elizabeth was gone. Betsy had no idea where her parents had moved her. There was nothing more she could do to help.

  And then John had no choice but to live his life. Wake up each morning and go to class, study for exams, write papers, then come home and fall asleep, only to do it all over again the next day.

  All while he felt like he was dying.

  Nights were the worst. John would lie in bed, eyes open, trying to imagine where she was or how she was feeling. He missed her so much most days he felt like he was suffocating. He’d dream at night about falling into a raging river and never having the strength to get to the bank. Just tossing and turning helplessly through the churning water.

  Waking up from the nightmare didn’t help.

  As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months he did research on the progress of her pregnancy. What she must’ve been feeling, what her body was going through, how the baby was growing.

  When the semester ended, he got a call from Betsy. She met him at a park halfway between their houses.

  “I have the address. Here.” She handed him a folded few pieces of paper. “She wrote you a letter, too.”

  He thanked her, and long after Betsy was gone, John sat at the park in the freezing cold and stared at the letter. Her words kept him warm. Over and over again he let his eyes wander the length of the page. Then he’d start over again at the beginning.

  Dear John,

  I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. They moved me to my aunt’s house at first, and then a few days later my father drove me to Illinois. I live in a house with five other girls. Pregnant, like me. All of them sent away. Most of us want to keep our babies, but none of us know how to make that happen.

  John, I ache for you every day, every hour. I want you to know that. But I couldn’t write until now. My father left strict instructions with the houseparents that I wasn’t supposed to write letters to anyone.

  Yesterday, he called me to tell me the final adoption plan and I begged him to let me write to Betsy. I still can’t believe he agreed. I guess he thinks you’re out of the picture. Out of my life—just because we haven’t seen each other.

  Anyway, I’m sending you the address. You can’t write to me, unless you give the letter to Betsy and have her send it. That would work, I think. For now, anyway. Until my father figures out what we’re doing.

  I still don’t want to give our baby up, John. But I don’t see any other way. It’s harder every day without you, every day watching my belly get bigger and knowing that I’ll never see this child grow up. If only there were something we could do.

  I love you always,

  Elizabeth

  John couldn’t get enough of the precious few pages. And by the next day—despite everything working against them—he had something he hadn’t had since they’d gotten news of the baby.

  He had a plan.

  17

  Not all their date nights were spent wandering the streets of downtown Bloomington. Ashley was spending this one helping Landon go through old boxes in the garage—something he’d wanted to do for a very long time. The boxes stood floor to ceiling taking up a large area of the garage—things her dad had left behind when he married Elaine and moved out. The year Ashley, Landon and the kids moved in.

  “Look at this.” Landon chuckled and gazed at the stacks of boxes that made up one end of the oversized garage. “It’s a firetrap, for sure.”

  Ashley winced, hands on her hips. There had to be thirty boxes along with some broken furniture. “I can see what you mean.” She bent down and read the writing on the nearest one. “Old Dishes.” She allowed a soft laugh. “My sweet mom. She didn’t throw away a single thing.”

  “That’s what your dad said.” Landon found a folding table from the other side of the garage and set it up. “We can use this to go through everything.” He pointed to a large trash bin near the open garage door. “And that . . .”

  “That . . .” She couldn’t agree more. “We’ll use that to throw away anything we don’t—”

  “Absolutely need!”

  They finished the last part together. Then Landon grabbed the first box and set it on the table.

  This one was full of Erin’s schoolwork, hundreds of pages of math, spelling, science and English, along with art projects from kindergarten through high school. Ashley knew this task would be emotional at times. But she didn’t expect the first items to belong to Erin. She spread stacks of the documents across the table. A’s decorated the tops of many of them. “She and Brooke were always the best at school.”

  Landon smiled at her. “Except for art. You had to be the best at that.” He always knew how to make her feel good. Even in these recent days when she so badly doubted herself.

  “Possibly.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.” A colored page caught Ashley’s attention and she picked it up. It was an art project Erin had done when she was in second grade. Ashley could tell because of the teacher’s name at the top. Mrs. Isaacson. All the Baxter kids had gone through second grade with Mrs. Isaacson.

  “What is it?” Landon came up beside her.

  The picture showed a color drawing of the entire Baxter family—everyone except Dayne, of course. Their parents, and the five siblings who had grown up together. At the bottom of the piece, Erin had written: “My family is the best in the whole wide world.”

  “She sure loved being a Baxter.” Landon eased Ashley closer to him. “I can’t see throwing that away.”

  “No.” Ashley blinked back her tears. “I’ll save these for Amy. My dad has a box of Erin’s journals he’s going to give her when she graduates from high school. Otherwise . . . Dad said to get rid of it. There’s only so much you can save.”

  “Mmm.” Landon took the drawing from Ashley and set it on the table. Then he pulled her to himself. “You don’t know how attractive that is, Ash. A woman who wants to get rid of stuff that’s been sitting here gathering dust for years.” He kissed her and grinned at her with flirty eyes. “Let’s get this thing done!”

  Progress on the first few boxes was slow. But then they found an assortment of old towels—all of which had gotten moldy over the years. And suddenly they were making a dent in the pile. While they worked, Ashley gave Landon a rundown on the rest of the family.

  Dayne and Katy and their family were planning to spend the summer in Bloomington. “They’re between films, so this is perfect.” Ashley opened the lid of the next box and peered inside. Tablecloths, maybe. Or moving blankets from who knows how far back. “Goodwill.”

  “Nice.” Landon pointed to the empty spot next to the trash bin. “Start a fresh stack.”

  The conversation continued. Brooke and Peter were celebrating their anniversary next week, and their girls were ready for summer vacation.

  “Especially Maddie, right?” Landon smiled in Ashley’s direction. “She and Connor Flanigan still dating?”

  “They’re taking a break.” Ashley raised her brow. “This summer should be interesting for sure. Brooke thinks Maddie and Connor will get back together. If she’s right, how amazing would that be if they got married someday? The Baxters and Flanigans, forever connected.” She brushed her hair from her eyes. “I love it.”

  Ashley remembered how the two families came together so long ago. It was through Bloomington’s Christian Kids Theater. Ashley had volunteered to paint sets and in doing so she became friends with Katy Hart—a young teacher at the theater. Katy lived with the Flanigans and was like part of their family.

  And of course, now Katy was married to their brother Dayne. So in some wa
ys the Baxters and Flanigans would always be connected.

  Over the next hour, Ashley talked about her sisters and brothers and all of their kids. Everyone would be busy this summer. Especially Kari and Ryan’s son, RJ, who had been chosen to play baseball for a competitive team from Indianapolis. The drive wouldn’t be fun, but RJ’s coach believed he had potential to one day play in the big leagues.

  “What about Luke? He’s coming to the Memorial Day barbecue, right?” Landon lifted another box up onto the table and dusted off his hands.

  “Their whole family’s coming.” Ashley couldn’t wait for the celebration. Times when they were all together were less often these days, now that the nieces and nephews were so busy. But they were more special than ever. “Luke’s been handling some interesting religious freedom cases in the city. It’s becoming a crime to pray in public.”

  Landon shook his head. “Our founding fathers would be furious.”

  “Exactly.” She opened another box. “You’ll have to ask Luke about it when he’s here.” She peered into the container and hesitated. What was this? Broken dishes? “Landon, look.”

  He helped her lift several dishes and glass pitchers from the wrapping. All of them had—at one time—been very beautiful. But now they all had one thing in common. They were broken. Broken and patched up.

  Ashley took a pitcher from the box and ran her hand over it. There was something very familiar about it. She studied it, the beautiful white-gray porcelain and the designs woven into it. Where had she seen it before?

  A large chip had fallen from the mouth of the vessel and at one point the handle had broken off. Somewhere along the journey of raising their family, Ashley’s mother must’ve bought glue and put the thing back together again.

  “Your mom was the most amazing woman.” Landon admired the restored pitcher. “Anything to save a dollar for the family.”