A strong sense of certainty filled her heart as she finished her silent prayer.
She had learned long ago not to ask God for anything unless she was willing to believe it could happen. And that’s how she felt right now. She had placed the situation in God’s hands. Her father had found their older brother. Her brother knew about them-so the biggest obstacles were behind them. God could change the guy’s mind, and He would.
Somehow, some way … He would bring their brother to them.
Now it was only a matter of waiting.
John thought about Ashley’s request through the afternoon and into the evening.
Landon and Brooke and Peter and the girls had joined them. Kari and Ryan and their kids had dinner with the Flanigan family. Ryan still coached football with Jim Flanigan at Clear Creek High School. Spring passing league was about to start, and Kari had said she was ready for an entire evening of visiting with Jim’s wife, Jenny.
Even without Kari at the house tonight, the plans for the reunion were shaping up quickly and easily. The enthusiasm and anticipation for a week of being together were growing every time they talked about it.
But now, with the house empty again, John could think only of Dayne.
He’d told Ashley the truth. He’d tried everything since his con 150
versation with Dayne’s agent. Despite the man’s harsh words, John had called the agent twice more, asking him to get word to Dayne. The last time the talk between them was painfully short and strained. The man had been almost rude with him.
“I gave him your last message,” the man snapped. “Look, Mr. Baxter, I’m asking you to let this go. Dayne isn’t interested.”
That had been a week ago, and John was convinced more than ever before. He’d been to the cemetery twice and begged God for more than a dead end. But it wasn’t happening, and he had to believe that God was giving him a sign. That perhaps knowing his oldest son would be worse for them-for all of them-than the shut door they were facing now.
But in light of Ashley’s words, Elaine Denning’s advice came back to him: “Don’t give up, John. Please try again. Maybe contact Dayne apart from his agent.”
He could still hear her voice, see the earnestness in her face. That, combined with the conversation with Ashley, convinced John that he had no choice but to write a letter to Dayne and send it to the studio that produced Dream On. That way John could bypass Chris Kane. Not that he doubted the agent. But maybe if Dayne read a letter straight from him-from his birth father-God would change something in his heart.
John wandered to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the box of stationery Elizabeth had kept there. Like so much in the house, it hadn’t been moved since her death. As long as he lived here, her touch would remain. The way she’d arranged the furniture and the dishes and the books in the bookcase. Her curtains and tablecloths and dried-flower arrangements.
She was everywhere still, the way she always would be.
He took a piece of stationery and a pen and sat at the kitchen counter. There were so many layers of heartache where Dayne was concerned. The fact that he hadn’t met Elizabeth, that he’d changed his mind hours before meeting her. The relationships he’d missed out on with Brooke and Kari and Ashley and Luke 151
and Erin. John’s heart felt heavy. Even worse, Dayne may have missed out on their faith and the faith of his adoptive parents.
If for no other reason he had to push for contact with his older son so he could do his part to help Dayne find the Lord in his life. Nothing could be more tragic than knowing they’d given Dayne up only to sacrifice his eternal destiny.
John stared at the blank page and decided he wasn’t only going to send a letter.
He picked up a stack of duplicate photographs sitting on the counter beside him.
Elizabeth had a few small photo albums lying around, maybe in the upstairs closet. He’d use one and arrange the photos in order of Dayne’s siblings, oldest to youngest.
Photos that started with one of Elizabeth and himself and moved on to Brooke and Peter and their kids and so on. They were beautiful pictures, two dozen of them in all. Whatever emotions and love John couldn’t manage to squeeze into the letter would come loud and clear from these photographs he’d found. He had no doubt.
He looked at the stationery again and positioned his pen near the top. Okay, God, give me the words. He sucked in a slow breath and began to write.
Dear Dayne …
He filled an entire page before he signed his name and reread it. At the bottom of the letter John added his three phone numbers-home, work, and cell. He also included his address-though he figured Dayne probably already had it if his own PI had done a thorough job.
He found the photo album in the closet, carefully printed the information on the back of each photograph, and filled the album with the pictures. Then he stuck it and the letter into a padded envelope. He decided to address it to Dayne in care of Mitch Henry, the director of Dream On.
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A director would know Dayne well, maybe even on a friendship basis-especially after they had just finished a movie together. Not only that, but if he sent the mail to the studio without the name of someone who worked there, it could get lost on a secretary’s desk somewhere. Perhaps Henry would forward the mail on to Dayne.
The next day John took the package to the mailbox at the corner near his office, but before he dropped it in the mail slot he held it with both hands. This was it, his last chance at making contact with his firstborn son. If he didn’t hear from him after this, he would have to respect Dayne’s wishes and let him go.
He ran his thumb along the envelope, along the handwritten letters that spelled out his son’s name. God… go with this package. If You don’t want a meeting between us, I’ll respect that. I’ll consider it Your will. I’m asking only this, Father-please let it reach Dayne. Let him open it and read it. That’s it, God.
His gaze lingered a few seconds more before he dropped the package in the box.
There. He’d done it. The package would reach Dayne, because God would make sure it reached him.
After that, John’s connection and future relationship with the firstborn Baxter son would be completely and utterly up to Dayne.
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They were two weeks into rehearsals for CKT’s next production, Narnia, and Katy could feel herself finding her rhythm again. She only thought about Dayne every few hours, rather than every few minutes the way she had before. His sweatshirt was folded in a drawer now-where it would stay. Although things hadn’t worked out with Terrence C. Willow, she and Rhonda had shared a good laugh.
Katy had also gone over every detail of the date with Ashley Baxter Blake when they took a walk around the track at Clear Creek High School later that week.
Ashley was trying to walk a little bit every day, so she’d have an easier time with her delivery. Though they’d laughed at things Terrence had said and done, the conversation had grown serious as Ashley talked about being married to Landon.
“He’s everything I ever dreamed,” Ashley had told her. “I mean, sure, we have our down days. But I can’t imagine anyone else for me.” She looked to a line of trees in the distance, seeing
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images of Landon in her mind, no doubt. “Our hearts and souls are knit together.
I’m not sure where I end and he begins.”
Katy had thought about that line every day since.
A love so right, so real that she would blend perfectly in the arms of that man, a love so heaven-sent it would be impossible to tell where she ended and he began. That was the sort of man she was waiting for, the sort that God certainly had for her somewhere out there.
“Hey.” Rhonda ran up to her. “What’re you thinking about?”
They were at Bloomington Community Church, halfway through the first full-company rehearsal. Katy pinched her nose and rubbed her thumb across her brow. “Just drifting.” She grinned at her friend. “You didn’t tell me about Elevator Guy.”
Rhonda blinked. “Elevator Guy?”
“Yeah.” Katy was sitting at the table at the front of the sanctuary, the one that gave her the best view of the stage. “You know, the guy from your apartment. The one you met in the elevator.”
Rhonda smiled. “You remember that?” She took the chair next to Katy and faced her.
“Of course. You and he and a bunch of people from your apartment got stuck in an elevator.” Katy lowered her chin, teasing her friend. “At the time you said it was the closest you’d been to a man in months.”
“Oh, that. Right.” She gave a quick nod. “That’s him.”
“So … you went out last night, didn’t you? How’d it go?”
Rhonda shrugged. “I didn’t get out of practice here until after nine, so it wasn’t a big deal. We met at the coffee shop near the university.”
“And…”
“Well, he’s six years older than me. Lived with his mother until two years ago.”
She tilted her head. “He says he believes in God, but I could tell by his language that it must be a kind of distant belief.”
“Oh.” Katy felt her face fall. “One of those.”
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“Yeah.” Rhonda managed a discouraged smile. “He asked me back to his place for a drink afterwards. If that gives you any idea.”
“Hmm. Okay, so cross him off the list.”
“I already did.” Rhonda pulled her choreography notes closer to her and stared at them. Her tone was heavier than before. “I joke about it, Katy, but seriously …” A lost look filled her eyes, and all her usual humor faded. “I was driving here this morning, and you know that little white church across from the park?”
Katy nodded. “St. Joseph’s.”
“Right.” She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “There were cars everywhere, and a limo was parked out front. Just as the light turned red a bride stepped out, and half a dozen bridesmaids surrounded her.” Rhonda stopped, a faraway look in her eyes. “The look on that bride’s face defined love, Katy. It did.” Her eyes were damp, and she made a sound that tried to be a laugh. “Look at me, all sappy.”
“That’s okay.” Katy touched her friend’s elbow. Rhonda could laugh, but Katy knew there was nothing funny about the scene. An early spring wedding … a glowing bride and pretty bridesmaids.
“I guess I just wanted to ask God when … when will it be my turn.” Rhonda allowed another sad smile. “You know?”
This time she reached out and hugged Rhonda. “Only too well.”
The break was winding up, and Katy had to take control of the kids. Outside, clouds were gathering, but thunderstorms weren’t expected until later this afternoon. Katy was glad. This spring was supposed to have some of the most violent storms and tornadoes in recent history. The last thing she needed was that kind of drama while she had sixty-two CKT kids running about the sanctuary.
She touched Rhonda’s shoulder. “Let’s talk about it later.” She climbed the three stairs to the stage and did the CKT clap.
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Instantly the cast repeated the clap and hurried back to the base of the stage for instruction.
“Okay.” Katy brought her hands together, surveying the group. The cast was talented, and Nancy and Al Helmes were back to help out with music. “I want to start blocking the battle scenes.” She pointed to Al and Nancy. “Give us a little bit of the music, please.”
Al was at the piano. He played several bars of intense melody, while Katy watched the reaction on the faces of the kids. A few raised eyebrows, and others nodded along. Katy had spent a few hours going over the score. For the most part, the songs were haunting and beautiful-especially when Asian, the lion of Narnia, is killed. But during the battle scenes the music would have the people in the audience on the edge of their seats.
The music stopped, and Katy clapped. “All right, see? The reason Narnia is such a powerful story is because it’s a battle-a battle between good and evil.”
She had just said the word evil when the rear door opened. A man came in and took a seat in the last row. Katy stared at him; suddenly she felt her heart flip-flop. It couldn’t be … not now. Not after so much time had gone by. A few of the kids looked over their shoulders, but the man seemed to be looking at something on the floor. Rhonda was still at the table going over her notes, so she hadn’t noticed Katy trying to recover.
“Okay, so listen.” Katy gulped and regained her composure. “Mr. Helmes, could you tell the kids what happens after Asian’s death? Why the battle is so important?”
“Certainly.” Al didn’t miss a beat. Whether or not he knew how badly she needed his help, he graciously stofed and the cast turned toward him. “All the forces of evil figured they had claimed victory as the lion of Narnia lay dead.”
Katy was hearing only part of Al’s explanation. Her knees shook, and she couldn’t exhale. She faced Al, but her eyes were on the man in the back. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, a baseball
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cap, and sunglasses. There was no way to tell his hair or eye color or even to make out his face. But that didn’t matter. Katy would know him anywhere, know the easy walk and round shoulders, the way he slid down in his seat so he’d be less obvious. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t look anywhere near the stage.
Still, no matter how many times she shot a glance toward him, the image of the man didn’t disappear. She wasn’t seeing things.
The man was Dayne Matthews.
She wanted to freeze time, ask everyone in the sanctuary to leave so she could rush to him and ask him why. Why in the world was he here? But she couldn’t. She had to at least get the kids positioned onstage before she could consider going to him. She pursed her lips and blew. Adrenaline was shooting darts through her bloodstream, and she could feel a fine layer of perspiration on her brow.
Al was winding up his explanation. “In fact,” he was saying, “it isn’t until Asian comes back to life that the forces of evil know for certain they are defeated.” He looked at his wife and then back at the kids. “That’s what makes this one of the greatest battle scenes in all of theater.”
Whatever he’d told them, the cast was absolutely gripped by the story. Good thing. Katy’s heart was only barely finding its normal rhythm. She waited until Al was finished before she took center stage. God … get me focused here.