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anyone had a right to earn. Altogether, the commitment would take nearly three years.
More than two more years of living and working in LA, being chased by photographers, who watch his every move, every expression, looking for even the slightest bit of dirt. He’d asked Chris about the timing, if there was a way to space the movies out so he could spend half a year somewhere else.
The answer was no, of course. The studio wanted two hit films a year starring Dayne Matthews. A hot star was a busy star, and if Dayne wasn’t hot, the films he starred in wouldn’t be either. The formula was pretty simple.
He would go home, spend an hour on his balcony reading his Bible. The one Katy Hart had given him. He hadn’t heard from her since he’d sent her the flowers.
But she knew about the change in his life, the understanding he’d reached about God. There was no reason to badger her. Besides, he would see her in a few weeks when the trial started.
Dayne dropped to the sand and leaned back on his elbows. The setting sun burned away what was left of the fog, and the warmth felt good on his stomach. The trial was something he prayed about often, every time the thought hit him. No matter what his legal team did, they wouldn’t be able to keep Katy Hart’s name from the media. Her part in the trial would become public record.
Depending on how deep the paparazzi wanted to dig, there was no limit to the type of stories they could write. He shuddered at the thought. God … protect her. Protect the friendship between us.
Sometimes when Dayne prayed, he could almost sense an answer, hear the small whisper of God’s response echoing somewhere in his soul. But now he only had the overwhelming knowledge that God was here … with him, inside him. And if that was all the answer he ever received again in his life, it would be enough. He remembered the tornadoes then, the storms that were supposed to hit Indiana tonight.
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It was Saturday, so Katy would’ve had Narnia practice this morning-the story with the message that had frightened Dayne before his trip to Mexico City. He smiled and sat up. He needed to get home, but he couldn’t shake the sudden strange feeling in his heart, an uneasiness he couldn’t explain.
Storms came through the Midwest all the time. This night wouldn’t be any different … or would it? Not long ago he’d watched a special on TV about tornadoes, about how an F-5 or an F-4 could level a town. Drop it to the ground, so that all that was left of the town’s existence were piles and piles of rubble.
What if a tornado like that went through Bloomington?
He had the urgent feeling that he needed to talk to Katy, maybe call her when he got home. Or maybe not. Maybe this was God’s way of reminding him to pray, not just for her but for everyone in Bloomington who mattered to him. But not here, not on the beach with paparazzi probably closing in on him again.
He slipped his shirt on and began jogging toward his house. If he could will it, he’d be there now, in Bloomington, taking cover with the rest of them. In fact, he’d be at the Flanigans’ house, talking with Katy and Jenny and Jim and the kids and perhaps even making plans to visit the Baxters.
Thinking of his biological family always raised the same questions. Would they ever connect? Could there ever be a time when his presence in their lives wouldn’t ruin things for them? He jogged faster, pushing himself until his sides heaved.
Not until he was home, not until he was out on his deck with his Bible in his hands did he do the thing he was dying to do.
He bowed his head and prayed with all his heart for the people he loved in Bloomington-people he might never have in his life, but people who mattered to him more than anyone or anything else. He prayed that they would be safe and that they’d find shelter tonight.
No matter how terrible the storm about to descend on them.
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Tornadoes were dropping all over southern Indiana.
John Baxter had kept the battery-operated radio nearby, and when the tornado warnings came again he made the decision. Everyone would move to the basement.
They could stay there and play board games, and if the lights went out, they could use flashlights and keep the kids calm.
As soon as the decision was made, his kids snapped into action. Kari and Erin and Brooke gathered food for the downstairs refrigerator, and the guys moved the cribs and high chairs to the basement. The big kids made a number of trips down with sleeping bags and blankets and pillows-in case they all had to spend the night. When that was set up, the guys moved a number of cots down. Landon was concerned that Ashley have a place to stretch out, a way to get comfortable.
Overall the atmosphere was calm and controlled. But the news coming through the radio was not encouraging. Tornadoes had left a path of devastation in a town just twenty miles south of them, and more were expected to touch down in the 264
next few hours. It was a phenomenon weather experts called an outbreak. Dozens of tornadoes spawned from a single series of storms. People were being told that conditions were ripe for a major twister, an F-3 or an F-4. The warnings were repeated every few minutes.
John hadn’t stopped praying.
It wasn’t until they were all safely in the basement that the wind began howling in earnest. Minutes later the electricity went out. His kids were smart; they engaged their children in games and conversation, but even by the glow of half a dozen large flashlights, he could see the fear in their eyes. They’d spent time in the basement during tornado season before-but tonight’s warnings seemed more ominous than anything they’d ever faced before.
They all had places to sit, either on the old sofas already in the basement or on the cots. The younger children were asleep except for Malin. Reagan was trying to get her to quiet down by pacing along one wall of the room, giving her a bottle.
At one point, Luke came up to John, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear it. “Any updates?”
“There’re tornadoes everywhere. They’ve spotted four in Bloomington alone.”
Luke looked around the basement. “Are we … are we safe here?”
“Yes.” John had no doubts. “A tornado could tear the house from the foundation, and still we’d be okay.” He thought back to when he and Elizabeth built the house. The door leading to the downstairs was stronger than usual, a storm door.
But it was the one at the bottom of the stairs that would save them in an F-5
tornado. It was made of steel, and it bolted in six places to steel posts on either side. John felt himself relax just thinking about it. “Your mother and I built this basement to withstand any tornado.”
“Good.” Luke breathed a sigh, and relief filled his voice. “What about Ashley?
Any more labor pains?”
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“She hasn’t mentioned any.”
“Let’s pray that baby holds off. At least until the storms pass.”
“I am.” John gave his son a troubled smile. “Believe me, I am.”
Time passed slowly. The big kids settled in finally, hunkering into their sleeping bags and falling asleep while their parents whispered reassuring words to them, patted their backs, and stroked their foreheads.
By ten o’clock, the radio announcer confirmed that at least two more tornadoes had touched down in Bloomington.
A moment later the news got worse. Landon made his way around the sleeping children and took hold of John’s arm. “She’s in labor, Dad. She didn’t want me to say anything until she was sure.”
The doctor in John came to life, pushing his fears aside. “Let’s keep her calm.”
He walked a few feet to the nearest wall and the small window well. Through it he could see the trees bent nearly in half and lightning zigzagging across the dark sky. He could hear the wind screaming through the branches. John looked at Landon, his voice quiet. “We aren’t going anywhere. Not in this storm.”
Landon’s face was tight, his expression worried. “What are we supposed to do? I don’t want her to have the baby here.”
“Listen-” John took hold of Landon’s shoulder-“you’re a trained medic. I’m a doctor. Brooke and Peter too. Combined we’ve delivered hundreds of babies.”
For the first time in half a minute, Landon drew a breath. “True.” Alarm flashed in his eyes. “But that’s at a hospital. Here in the basement? We can’t have her deliver here.”
John cast another look at the storm outside. “We can’t have her deliver out there either.”
“So what do we do?”
“Landon, you already know the answer.” John heard the calm in his own voice, felt himself relying on a power far greater than anything he might’ve possessed.
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For a moment Landon looked unsure. But then slowly peace returned to his expression. They would do the only thing they could do. They would pray. It was then that John heard a crackling on his radio. He moved the few steps to the box and held it to his ear.
The news was still worse, bigger even than Landon’s announcement that Ashley was in labor. An F-4 tornado had been spotted on the outskirts of Bloomington. If the announcer was right, they were about to find out if the storm door would hold the way it was supposed to.
The twister was headed straight for them.
Ashley knew she was in trouble, both her and the baby.
While the winds outside built and the house above them shook, her contractions came at her full force. Landon was timing them, and so far they were twelve minutes apart. That part wasn’t bad, but they were lasting nearly a minute each, and even between pains Ashley couldn’t catch her breath. The experience with Cole had been nothing like this-at least she didn’t remember it this way.
She lay on one of the cots and clutched Landon’s hand, blowing out, trying hard to empty her lungs so she could take a full drink of air. “Why … why am I…
so out of breath?”
“Honey, it’s the pain. Sometimes it can do that.” Landon was doing all he could.
Every minute or so he took her pulse, and even now he seemed to be watching her for signs. “I’ll be right back.”
He went to her father, and the two spoke in whispers. But at least once Ashley heard the words high blood pressure and racing heart. She willed herself to be calm. She didn’t need either of them to tell her what the next step should be.
If they were worried about high blood pressure and a racing heart, then it was time to take her to the hospital.
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But the sounds outside were like something from a horror film, creaking and groaning and pounding. Sounds she’d never heard in all her life in Bloomington.
Whatever was going on with her body, she knew they couldn’t go to the hospital now.
Landon and her father returned to her side. Her father checked her vital signs.
“Hang in there, Ash,” Landon said. “Please …”
“I am.” Another contraction hit. She tightened, her back lifting off the cot as she tried to survive the knifelike pain slicing through her body. When it was over, she felt a rush of panic. She couldn’t catch her breath, not a single one.
“Help me… Landon, help.”
He squeezed her hand and leaned over her. “Breathe out, little breaths.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Father God… we need You now… please!” The intensity of his words told her just how worried he was.
Again she considered that maybe this was more than a difficult delivery. Maybe she and the baby were facing a life-or-death situation. She couldn’t bear the thought. She wanted to grow old with Landon, live a full life of raising their family and watching their kids become adults. She wanted what her parents had, what dear sweet Irvel from Sunset Hills had with Hank, her lifelong love-decades and decades of memories, enough to last into life’s very darkest midnight.
God … help me. Hold me! I don’t want to die!
Landon was still praying, his voice urgent. “Calm Ashley, Lord. Help her breathe. Right now, I beg You.”
Kari and Brooke and Erin must’ve heard him, because she noticed that they’d gathered with their dad, holding hands and praying. She made a circle with her lips and pushed out the smallest bit of air.
“That’s it, Ash … blow out. You have to blow out.” Landon hovered over her, his eyes more serious than she’d ever seen them. “God, help her … please.”
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She could feel her heart racing inside her. In the background the wailing wind reached another level of intensity. It no longer sounded like a storm but more like a freight train bearing down on them. Ashley wasn’t sure if it was her contractions or her fear that was making it so hard to breathe, but she closed her eyes.
Focus. God, give me Your peace.
And then, despite her terror, she heard His voice-still and silent yet louder than the wind and storm combined. Daughter, I am with you. Do not be anxious about anything. Peace I leave. My peace I give you.
For the first time in four minutes, Ashley felt herself fully exhale, felt the supernatural peace flood her body, and felt the air slowly filling her lungs.
“There.” She wanted to shout for joy. “I got a breath.”
“Thank You, God.” Landon breathed the words against her skin. He gently kissed her forehead, his concern not one bit less than before. “Keep breathing out, Ash. Please.”
“It’s the Lord, Landon.” She could sense Him. “He’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
They held on that way as the sound of destruction filled the air outside. Her contractions were getting closer together, and she heard Landon and her father talking. If they couldn’t get her to the hospital soon, they might have to stage the delivery here. In the basement. With twenty people gathered around.
The sound of breaking glass mixed with the screaming wind and pounding thunder.
The kids were awake now, sitting up and whimpering. Then-in a way that seemed impossible-the intensity grew.
Kari and Ryan had their two children and Cole between them. In between the blinding white-hot contractions, amidst efforts at exhaling, Ashley caught glimpses of him.
Cole looked scared to death, and each time she looked his eyes were glued to hers. He mouthed the word Mommy. Once he even held his little hand out to her.
“Mommy.”
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Kari rubbed his back, and now and then she would lean close and whisper something in his ear.