Sunset: 4 (Sunrise) (18 page)

Carol stepped away from her son and gave Landon a hug. Bobby shook Landon’s hand and uttered a quiet thank-you. He was polite, but he seemed embarrassed by the moment. He moved off to talk to a few girls near the snack stand.

Tom shook his head, his brow lowered from the obvious intensity of his feelings. “You risked your own life for my son. We sent you a letter to the firehouse, but . . . we always wanted to find you and thank you.”

Ashley’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked so she could clearly see the boy. Bobby from the show was the one? that boy? The fire had been one of the most dangerous in Bloomington history, affecting an apartment complex and threatening the lives of a dozen people. Landon had found the boy unconscious on the second floor. For a while he’d tried to buddy-breathe. He would take a gulp of air from his mask, then place the mask over the boy’s face and repeat the pattern. But eventually the smoke and heat were too much for Landon, and he passed out with the mask firmly over the boy’s face.

The resulting smoke inhalation nearly killed Landon, but his heroism did three things. First, it saved the life of the shy twelve-year-old standing a few feet away. Second, it brought Ashley back to Landon. If he hadn’t been near death after that fire, she wouldn’t have held a vigil at his hospital bedside, and she wouldn’t have allowed herself to admit what had been true forever—that she loved Landon Blake.

A chill passed down her spine. The third thing was just as dramatic. Landon’s injuries in that blaze delayed his ability to move to New York City and fight fires with his buddy Jalen. And because of the delay, Landon wasn’t where he would’ve been—trudging up the stairs of the South Tower in lower Manhattan on September 11 when the whole thing collapsed.

They talked for a few more minutes and then headed for the van. Cole was singing “One More Angel in Heaven,” one of the play’s funnier songs. But Ashley and Landon hadn’t said a word to each other since the family walked up to them. Not until they had the boys belted in and they took their seats did Landon lean back and stare straight ahead. He made no move to start the engine.

“I don’t even know what to say.” He looked at Ashley, his jaw slack. “God used me to save that kid, but afterward He saved me twice. Know what I mean?”

“I do.” Her voice was somber, filled with awe. “His ways are far too complicated for us.”

“Yeah.” Landon pulled the keys from his pocket and slipped them into the ignition. A sad smile tugged at his lips. “Because not everyone comes out alive.”

He was thinking of Jalen, of course.

Jalen’s parents had let Landon stay in Jalen’s New York apartment over the several months after 9/11 when Landon worked almost without stopping looking for his friend’s remains in the rubble of Ground Zero. He sifted through ash and human remains right up until the afternoon when Jalen’s body was discovered. After that he came back to Bloomington wanting only one thing. A relationship with Ashley.

She was about to ask whether Landon had heard from Jalen’s parents lately when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. His expression darkened as he opened his phone and held it to his ear. “Mom, what’s going on?” The engine was running, but he still hadn’t moved the van. Now he rested his forearm on the steering wheel. “A few hours ago, then?”

Ashley crossed her arms and watched him. The news couldn’t be good. Landon’s grandpa Westra was still very sick from his heart attack, clinging to life in the ICU. The family was planning a trip there as soon as the show run was finished. Now watching Landon’s part of the conversation, Ashley was pretty sure that this was the call they’d been dreading.

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks for letting me know. . . . I love you too.” Landon turned to Ashley as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He hesitated, his chin quivering. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, Landon.” She closed the distance between them and hugged him. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened, Dad?” Cole poked his head between the two front seats. “Is something wrong?”

Landon sighed and eased back from Ashley. His eyes were dry, but the heaviness in his voice was heartbreaking. “Grandpa Westra died.” He managed a weak smile for Cole. “Remember him?”

“Yes.” Cole’s shoulders sank. “I liked him a lot. He was really nice.”

Ashley put her hand on Cole’s shoulder and turned to Landon. “Is there a service?”

“Something small and simple. It’s set for Tuesday morning. We can catch a flight out Monday and come home Wednesday.”

“Good.” Ashley sat back in her seat and buckled her belt. “I’d like us all to be there.”

“Me too.” Landon put the van in drive and turned out of the parking lot.

Ashley covered his hand with her own. “We can skip the opening night party if you want.”

“It’s Cole’s big night.” Landon glanced over his shoulder at their son, and even with his damp eyes, his voice was filled with pride. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The party lasted until nearly midnight. After they were home and the boys were in bed, Ashley found Landon sitting in the dark living room alone, staring out the front window. Quietly she took the seat next to him, nuzzling up against him, her arm around his shoulders. This was one of those moments when love didn’t need words.

Ashley tried to imagine being married for seventy-six years. Andrew and Effie must’ve been so close, their hearts so tightly woven together that when one breathed in, the other felt life in his or her bones. Andrew had been well when Effie died, well enough that he wanted that last night in their bed together. But with his Effie dead and buried, life had slowly begun to ebb from Andrew. His broken heart could be alone for only so long.

“He wanted this.” Landon turned to her. “The moment Grandma was gone he wanted heaven.”

“His body wouldn’t let him stay here without her.” Ashley studied her husband; then she put her hand alongside his face and kissed him. A kiss that told of love and longing and heartbreak. A kiss that understood there would never be enough time together in this life. But even so, God had a happy ending right around the corner for those who believed. Ashley and Landon knew the lesson personally, as Andrew and Effie had. Or as Ashley’s grandmother used to say, “All this and heaven too.”

The kiss lingered, and even in the shadow of great loss, Ashley felt herself smile.

All this and heaven too. Indeed.

Luke woke up to sunshine streaming through the window of his old bedroom on the second floor of the Baxter house. The play last night had offered a glimmer of hope between him and Reagan, but still here he was. He rolled onto his back and stared at the off-white ceiling. It could use a coat of paint, but it didn’t matter now with the house on the market.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Reagan had at least agreed to bring the kids and meet him at the play. Luke drove by himself, straight from work. Mostly because he wasn’t sure she’d actually come and he had promised Cole he’d be there to see his first performance. So when Reagan showed up, Luke took the action as a good sign. But other than polite, functional conversation, she didn’t talk to him once during the play, and when it was over, she seemed uncomfortable.

“You’re staying at your dad’s?” Her question sounded more like a statement. She had Tommy by the hand and Malin in her arms.

Tommy tugged on her coat sleeve. “Are we sleeping over at Papa’s? Huh, Mommy, are we?”

“Shhh.” Her tone was just short of harsh. She shot their son a look and then turned back to Luke. “I’m taking the kids home.” Her eyes were empty and cold. “I thought the space could do us good.”

Luke was about to argue with her, but his anger wouldn’t let him. How dare she bring the kids to the show as if she were willing to take a positive step forward in their relationship only to turn around and basically tell him that her trip to the theater had nothing to do with him?

He kicked his legs over the edge of the bed and sat, slouched. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall and cringed at the dark circles under his eyes, the defeat in his face. Anyone could see he was a broken man. Part of it was that sleep didn’t come easily these days. Reagan was hinting about getting a divorce a little more every time they talked. Any week now she was going to stop hinting and simply serve him with papers.

That’s where their marriage was headed.

He stood and stretched, then slipped on his T-shirt and sweatpants. He went to the window and looked out at the familiar landscape, the basketball court, where he and Ashley had played all those pickup games when they were kids. Maybe if he could find a way to buy the old Baxter house, he could bring Reagan and the kids here, and by the very virtue of all the happy times the walls in this house had seen, they would find love again. How could a family not be loving and happy here in this place?

Luke blinked and gradually dismissed the thought. He opened the window and lifted his gaze to the blue beyond the trees.
I’m losing everything. I don’t know how to stop it from happening.

A breeze rustled the branches outside, but there was no distinct answer, no clear direction that might help him avoid the carnage ahead. What kind of kid would Tommy grow up to be if they got divorced? And what about Malin? Had they adopted her from China to bring her up in a broken home? Splitting time between Reagan and him, the kids were bound to feel lost and rejected. Especially compared to their cousins.

I’m at the end of myself, God.

There was no quiet whisper or shouting voice telling him which way to turn. But he had the overwhelming sense that he should go downstairs, that in the early morning hours he might find his father at the kitchen table. He brushed his teeth and headed down, feeling the weight of his loneliness and failure with every step, every breath.

Sure enough, his dad was at the table drinking coffee and reading the Bible.

Luke was in his socks, and his steps had been quiet. His dad didn’t see him there at the bottom of the stairs, which gave Luke the chance to study him. Really study him. A sad, silent laugh rattled around in his chest. He was asking God for help, but when was the last time he’d spent a morning like this? up before anyone else, exploring God’s Word and seeking wisdom for the day? He leaned against the stair railing. This was the exact picture his dad had always made in the early morning. No wonder Luke had been raised in a home of goodness and grace, love and laughter. His dad’s deep devotion to God had created that type of home for his kids.

“Luke!” His dad’s smile was full and welcoming, without any of the disgust or discouragement that he would’ve been justified in having. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He rubbed his head and padded over to the table. “You sure I won’t disturb you? I can come back in a little while.”

“Not at all.” He patted the spot on the table across from him. “I finished a few minutes ago. I was just looking up a few verses.”

“Oh.” Luke sat down and rested his forearms on the table.

“Want coffee? There’s more in the pot.”

“No thanks.” Lately coffee made his heart race. Probably because he was in a near constant state of anxiety already. The last thing he needed was caffeine. “You have a minute?”

His dad chuckled in a tender sort of way. He eased his fingers around his coffee cup. “It’s not quite seven in the morning. My schedule’s pretty open.” His smile faded. “You didn’t say much about Reagan last night.”

Luke felt his anger at the situation rise again. “Not much to say. She didn’t talk about it.” He lifted his hands, discouraged. As he sat back, he put one arm over the back of the chair next to him. “The show ended, and she told me she was taking the kids home. She thought it’d be better if I came here. So we’d have more space between us.”

Concern creased his dad’s forehead. “Then things aren’t any better.”

“They’re worse.” He held his breath for a few seconds and then released it slowly. As he did, his anger left him. The seriousness of the situation was suddenly glaring. “I’m losing her.”

“Son.” His dad folded his hands on the table in front of him and looked at him. “A marriage isn’t something you lose. It’s something you work to keep . . . or it’s something you willingly let go.”

“Where does that leave me?” Luke wanted his dad’s advice, but how could he understand something like this? “I don’t want to let go, but Reagan’s finished.” He worked to keep his frustration from spilling into his voice. “Things are a mess.”

“They are.” His dad’s answers were slow and thought out. “Maybe you need to go back a ways . . . to where the knots first began.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “When we moved to Indiana?”

“No.” His dad paused, his gaze kind but intense. “September 10, 2001.”

“Dad . . .” The last thing Luke wanted was to rehash the past. “We’re over that. We made a mistake. We moved on.”

His dad took a long sip of his coffee and then set the mug back on the table. “Moral failure is more complicated than that.” He folded his hands again. “You think you’re past it, and in some ways you are. God forgave you. You moved on. But if you took a walk back to that time, you’d see there were probably aspects you didn’t deal with.”

Luke wasn’t sure he was tracking with his dad. “I apologized to her, if that’s what you mean.”

For a moment, his dad looked out the window, his eyes distant. As if he were seeing a scene from long ago. “I know about moral failure. Obviously.” He set his jaw. “The whole time your mother was pregnant with Dayne, those months when she lived at the girls’ home, I must’ve apologized a dozen times. I felt like it was all my fault. It wasn’t until after your mother came home, after she’d been forced to give him up, that I took her for a drive and asked for her forgiveness.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No.” His answer was kind, but it came quicker this time. “
You
give an apology. Forgiveness can only be given by the person you’ve hurt.”

The words swirled around in Luke’s head and hit their mark. Suddenly he could see the events of that fall even more clearly than he’d seen them back then. Monday night—when he and Reagan crossed lines that had defined them—was too late for anything but regret. And the next day he was trying to think of how he could face her when the news came screaming across the campus. New York City was under attack, the Twin Towers on fire.

Luke closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had been shocked like everyone else, and as the towers collapsed, the last thing on his or Reagan’s mind was their compromise from the night before. A sharp breath filled Luke’s lungs, and when he opened his eyes, he felt different. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I hadn’t either.” His dad picked up his coffee mug and held it with both hands, his elbows planted on the table. “Not until I needed to.”

Since his marriage began falling apart, since the tangles became bigger and more complicated than either of them knew what to do with, Luke had often imagined himself in the middle of a pitch-dark tunnel. The kind that winds for miles underground, with twists and turns and a limited amount of oxygen. Often Luke felt like he’d never see daylight again.

Until this moment.

Adrenaline pushed through his veins, and he worked to keep from being too hopeful. “You think it would help if I asked for her forgiveness?”

“Think about all Reagan lost after that day.” His dad’s tone was gentle, but he seemed to have thought this through before today. “Her purity, which she intended to keep intact until her wedding day. She went from being a single college coed to a single mother and all the stigma that comes with.”

Luke could hardly argue.

“She lost her independence, and in the process of having Tommy, she lost her ability to have more children.”

Each bit of loss hit Luke like a hammer to his stomach. And his dad hadn’t even touched on another sad truth. Reagan also lost what would’ve been her last conversation with her dad. Because that was when . . . when everything went wrong.

“I know you were both responsible for what happened that night. Moral failure rarely happens in a vacuum.” His dad set the cup down and pushed back from the table a little.

“But I had a responsibility.” What was wrong between him and Reagan was clearer than ever. “I never should’ve let things get out of hand. So maybe this is what we’ve been missing. Because I never asked her to forgive me.”

His dad stood and motioned for Luke to follow. “I need to move the sprinkler.” He opened the door between the dining room and kitchen, and once they were out back, Luke fell in beside him. The day was already warm, and though a few puffy white clouds hung along the horizon, the sky was clear. Like Luke’s thoughts.

“Can I make a suggestion?” His dad slipped his hands in his pants pockets and glanced at Luke.

“Please.” Luke was kicking himself for not having this talk with his dad sooner. The man had so much wisdom. But then, it was a wisdom born of experience.

“Don’t rush home and ask for her forgiveness.” He stopped next to the rosebushes Luke’s mother had so dearly loved. His dad absently pulled off a few dead leaves and ran his fingers over the buds, each bursting with life. They continued walking. “Be thoughtful about your words so Reagan knows how much her forgiveness would mean to you. Maybe take her someplace, somewhere away from home. Since you’ve been fighting a lot there.”

“Okay.” Luke’s mouth felt dry. He didn’t want to blow this chance. “What about until then?”

“That’s easy.” He smiled, and as they walked he put his arm around Luke’s shoulders. “Serve her. Encourage her. Be kind even if she isn’t kind in return.”

Luke had to be honest with himself. As cold and distant as Reagan had been, that part would be harder than asking for her forgiveness. He looked over his shoulder at the rosebushes, and he could almost see his mother, almost feel her walking on his other side. He allowed a quiet laugh. “That’s what Mom would say. Basically, love her.”

“It is.” His dad stopped and nodded slowly. He too looked back at the roses. “I miss her so much.”

For a few beats they stood there. Days like this, Luke still couldn’t believe she was gone. As if he almost expected her to be waiting for them back in the house. They set out toward the far edges of the yard, and once his dad had moved the sprinkler, they took the same path to the house again. “You’re really going to sell it.”

His dad stopped again and seemed to survey the property. “I’ll miss everything about it. The way it looks in the glow of a sunrise and the way the shadows fall against it at sunset. Every memory, every room.” He gave Luke a sad smile. “The smell of your mother’s roses coming through the open windows and mixing with whatever was cooking in the oven.”

Luke swallowed the emotions building inside him. “Maybe I should try to buy it, move Reagan and the kids closer to the rest of the family.”

They started walking again. When his dad finally responded, his voice was thoughtful, filled once more with that familiar seasoned wisdom. “The house is wonderful, but it isn’t walls and windows that make a home. I learned that from the fire.” He glanced at the corner of the house near the garage, the place where last fall’s blaze had started. “Go see about making things right with Reagan. That’s where you’ll find your home.”

For a few more minutes they talked about the different buyers who had come through and made offers and how the soft market wasn’t helping. “The buyer’s out there.” His dad opened the back door and held it for Luke. “It’ll all happen in God’s timing.”