Forgiven (35 page)

She breathed out and realized that her heart was pounding.

“Ashley…” It was Landon, calling from another room. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” she yelled, all the while staring at the letter, barely able to breathe. “Just a minute.”

Panic and fear sat on either side of her, poking at her, laughing at her. This is ridiculous. She set the letter down on the bedspread and felt her curlers.

They were cool now; she could take them out. If she sat here long enough her imagination was bound to run away with her. It was what made her a good artist.

She would put the letter back in her purse, give it to Brooke tonight, and never think about it again. Her legs tightened and she started to stand, but instead she dropped back down on the edge of the bed. Was her father hiding the letter?

She picked it up again and held it closer to her face, trying to see past the white envelope. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to read it, even Brooke. Maybe that’s why it had been in his room with the other letters.

She recalled her father’s reaction, the way he’d sounded stern when he found her in their closet looking through her mother’s letter box. Maybe this firstborn letter was the reason he hadn’t wanted her looking around her mother’s letters in the first place. All because of something terribly important, terribly private that she’d written to Brooke.

Was there something shocking surrounding Brooke’s birth, something none of them knew about? Even Brooke? Ashley slid the tip of her fingernail beneath the sealed flap. What would she

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want Brooke to do if things were turned around, if Brooke held a possibly ominous letter intended for her? In that case it might be better if Brooke read it first. That way, whatever the letter held, her sister could break the news to her gently.

No, Brooke would never buy that argument.

Ashley bit her lip. Of course, she could hardly hand Brooke a letter with Cole’s graham-cracker crumbs smeared across it. Even if it did have their mother’s handwriting across the front. The letter needed a proper, clean white envelope, an envelope like the kind they kept downstairs in the computer desk. She worked her fingernail beneath the flap, just enough to lift a small curl of paper.

Brooke wouldn’t want a letter from her mother in a dirty envelope. And, oh yes, she’d read the letter in the process.

The moment it all came together, nothing in the world could’ve changed her mind.

She ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. Her heart was galloping now, taking her imagination with it. But before she could think up another reason why her mother would write a letter to only Brooke, Ashley unfolded it, held it out, and began to read.

My dearest firstborn, my son,

My son? Ashley stopped there. What was this? All this time she’d thought the letter was from her mother, but maybe not. Obviously not. Her mother’s firstborn wasn’t a son; it was Brooke. In an instant, her gaze darted down the full page of text to the signature at the end, and only then did the room begin to tilt.

In her mother’s handwriting, the letter was signed Your mother, Elizabeth Baxter.

Ashley couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t make her lungs work right. She looked at the first line again and frowned at the piece of paper. Maybe her mother was delusional when she’d written it, that’s why she’d written something so crazy.

She let her eyes find the beginning again.

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My dearest firstborn, my son,

If you are reading this, then you have found me ….

The room tilted harder. Ashley gripped the edge of the bed.:! with her free hand and squeezed her eyes shut. The words were. far too lucid to be a mistake or some kind of delusional rambling. It was an actual letter written by her mother to a firstborn son, someone who apparently was looking for her. So that meant it wasn’t a mistake. Ashley wasn’t dreaming or trying to find her way out of a nightmare.

But then it must be a mistake; it had to be. Her mother didn’t have a firstborn son. Of course not. Ashley bent over her knees and forced the air from her body.

After three tries, she was able to suck in a quick breath. If the letter was accurate, if it was really written by her mother, then…

The information hung over her like a shifting hillside, the small pebbles slipping, sliding in around her feet. It didn’t make sense, couldn’t make sense.

She was shaking, adrenaline speeding through her veins, alerting her sinews and fibers, every muscle and nerve, of the certainty that nothing, nothing in all of life—would ever be the same after this single moment.

But even if the information buried her, she had to know, had to read the letter and understand the details for herself. There would be no moving forward otherwise. Her body permitted her another small bit of air, and she held the letter up again. When her hand shook too hard to read the words, she lowered the paper to her lap and hunched over it.

My dearest firstborn, my son,

If you are reading this, then you have found me. Or you have at least found the others. Son, I have prayed for the chance to tell you this information in person, but time is running out. I can’t go peacefully to be with the Lord until I make every effort to reach you, Even if the only way I can do that is through this letter.

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Each word was another small rock, falling and tumbling around her, making it difficult to move, to think, or even to fathom the gravity of what might lie ahead. The first part of the letter could lead to just one conclusion, but it was a conclusion Ashley didn’t dare consider, wouldn’t let herself think about.

Instead she tightened her grip on the edge of the bed and forced herself to continue.

Your father and I have thought about you with every passing year. Every birthday and Christmas, the fall when you must’ve started school, the year you would’ve graduated. You were always in our hearts, just a mention away. We had no choice about what happened, dear son. My parents sent me away, and a woman took you from me even when I screamed for her to bring you back. This is the part you must know. We never wanted to give you up. Never.

What? Ashley blinked twice and read the words again and then another time. This is the part you must know. We never wanted to give you up. Never.

The avalanche came then.

This new definition of the past, this new reality about who and what the Baxters were came tumbling and sliding, burying her beneath it, suffocating her, leaving her no way out.

When it was finally over, when the earth had stopped crumbling in around her, she knew this much: the landscape that made up her life—all of their lives—would forever be changed. An eerie silence filled the room, a silence where Ashley couldn’t move or think or feel her heartbeat. God, how do I deal with this? Help me. Please, God.

I’m here, daughter. Run to Me.

Ashley leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He was here, God Himself. His Spirit was around her, helping her, holding her. You’re here. I can feel You, God. I want to run to You. Lift me out of this; carry me, Lord. I can’t do it without You. And at that in

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stant, she felt her heartbeat slow a little. God was the answer in all of this, wherever the rest of the letter took her. Wherever the rest of her days took her. He was all-knowing, all-seeing, Her mother’s letter wasn’t taking Him by surprise. No, the earth could break apart and swallow her whole, and He would be waiting to catch her.

The only way out was to trust God, believe that He would help her hold on. And that meant grabbing hold of the most obvious detail and never letting go, no matter how much it hurt.

The detail was this: her parents didn’t have five children. They had six.

She looked at the line again. We never wanted to give you up. Never. She held on to the idea and continued reading:

After you were gone, they told me to forget about you. They said I’d be better off if I convinced myself you had never been born. Your father and I prayed that you would be adopted by a Christian family, people who would raise you to share the faith that has always been so important to us. We tried to convince ourselves that you belonged to God, that He had found a family for you, and that somehow the social workers had been right. You were never ours in the first place. But we were wrong. My deepest regret in all my life is that I didn’t fight harder to keep you.

Two tears fell onto Ashley’s jeans, and she dabbed the backs of her hands against her cheeks.

The way you felt in my arms the day you were born is something I will never forget. Your fuzzy blond hair and blue eyes, wide and alert, as if you knew our time was short. I didn’t think I’d ever know that feeling again, the warm weight of my newborn son against my chest. But God gave us more children. Five more.

And last of all He gave us a son, a boy we named Luke. Watching Luke grow up has always filled my heart with a mix of joy and sorrow. Because he looked just like you. When he turned one and learned to walk, I knew what you would’ve looked like as a toddler. It was

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the same when he lost a tooth and learned to ride a bike and graduated from high school. Every milestone was a reminder of all I’d lost with you. All I’d missed.

Sobs built up in Ashley’s gut, and she pressed her free hand to her stomach.

That could’ve been Cole just as easily. If her parents had forced her to give away her firstborn son, she would’ve felt the same. No wonder her mother had always had a special love for Coley.

“Ashley… honey, what’s taking so long?”

She couldn’t answer Landon. Instead she found her place in the letter and blocked out everything but her mother’s words.

And so I’ve begged God for just one thing. That somehow in the midst of my final days I might have the chance to see you again, to hold you one more time. One last time. I want to know that you’re okay, that you were placed in a warm and loving home. If you have a wife and kids, I want to know about them.

I was sick one other time, and I tried to find you. The records were sealed, and we were turned away. So I know that it’ll take a miracle now, but that’s okay.

The God we serve is in the miracle business. Our lives have been a testimony to that.

My prayer for you is that you would know God, that you would have a relationship with Him. Also that you would know the love of family–our family. You might belong to other people, but you will always belong here with us too. Because whenever I think of my precious children, I don’t see five—I see six.

I always will. I love you, Son. If I don’t get the chance to hold you here, then I have to believe God will let me hold you in heaven. And there we won’t ever have to say goodbye again. Your mother, Elizabeth Baxter

Ashley heard footsteps as she finished reading, and when she looked up, Landon was in the doorway.

“Ashley?” His voice was softer, without even the slightest bit 296

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of impatience. “What is it, honey?” He walked to her and hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Where could she begin? She wiped at her tears again and held out the letter.

“I…” She shook her head. “Read this.”

Landon looked confused, but she couldn’t think of how to explain it to him. She slid over and he took the letter, lowering himself to the spot beside her.

“It’s from my mother.” She sniffed and took hold of his elbow, leaning her head on his shoulder. “The envelope says Firstborn.”

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he was going to ask questions, try to get the story out of her. But something in her expression must’ve convinced him to read the letter, and that way, whatever he might want to know would somehow be answered. He held the letter in front of him and started to read it to himself. After only a few seconds, he stopped and let the letter drop a few inches. He stared at her, his mouth open.

“Yes.” Ashley sniffed. “Keep reading.”

Landon did. He read the whole thing, and then he put the letter on the bed and took her in his arms.

She felt safe there, and she wished she could hide in his embrace and never have to face the things she’d learned in the last fifteen minutes. But even now God was giving her strength, helping her climb out of the rubble of truth. She sat up and found his eyes. “Can you believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” Landon looked out the window, his expression flat, shocked. “Your parents are pillars, Ashley. As long as I’ve known them, they never even fought.” He gave a single laugh. “I mean, they were having Bible studies for kids back when we were in high school.” He put his hand on her knee.

“And they never told you?”

“They never told any of us.” She massaged her forehead. “I have two brothers, Landon. Somewhere in the world I have a full-fledged brother I’ve never met.”

Landon picked up the letter again. “It sure looks that way.”

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She did a sad distant-sounding laugh. “No wonder.” Her gaze shifted to the framed photograph of Cole sitting on the dresser. “I couldn’t understand why Mom never gave up on me.” She narrowed her eyes, seeing back to seven years ago. “I was the black sheep, but she never had anything but love for me.”

“That’s how she was.” Landon’s words were soft, a caress that soothed the tremors in her heart.

“But it was more than that.” She looked at him. “Don’t you see, Landon? She was the black sheep too. She was just like me.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “Maybe that’s why she was so compassionate. Because she’d been there.”

“And it’s why she was so wonderful with Cole.” Her voice cracked. “Because she had to give her little boy away. When I got back from Paris I told her I wasn’t thinking of doing that.” She shook her head. “Mom never said another word about it. She helped me every way she could, the way her parents didn’t help her and Dad.”

“I’m sad for her.”

Ashley looked at Cole’s picture again. “She never found him, her firstborn.”

Another trail of hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. “It was her last prayer, but it never happened. She didn’t get to hold him again, didn’t get the miracle.”