Forgiven (36 page)

The sadness of that drew them together, and Landon hugged her close again. “I’m sorry, Ash.”

She kept her crying quiet, deep inside her. Eventually she found control again, and she drew a series of quick breaths. “Landon—” she nuzzled her cheek against his—”maybe we’re supposed to find him for her.”

“Maybe.” He picked up the letter, studying it. “Where’d you get it?”

“In my dad’s room.” She raised one shoulder. “I thought it was for Brooke. I took it to give to her. As a favor, to save him the trouble.”

“Hmmm.” He winced. “Did you tell him?”

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“No.” She raised her hands. “I forgot about it until just now.”

He took hold of her fingers and searched her eyes. “What’

you going to do? ….

“Well… I have a thousand questions.” She felt her determination building. It wouldn’t really be a confrontation. More of check, another way of letting this new picture of her par, I, reality ents’ past become believable. She eased the letter from Landon’s ::’i hands. “But right now there’s only one thing I can do.”

“What?”

She held up the letter. “Get this back to my dad.”

Dinner passed in a blur. When the meal was finished, they put the telephone in the middle of the table, dialed Luke and Reagan, and placed the call on speaker mode. The couple was cheery and upbeat as they caught everyone up on the latest with Tommy. Luke’s tone changed some when he explained that they couldn’t come for Christmas like they’d hoped, but that the reason was a good one.

“We’re bringing Malin home from China earlier than we thought!” Reagan squealed.

She and Luke had decided to adopt a little girl from Beijing. “We just found out yesterday. She’ll come home in late December or January.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.” Ashley’s father moved closer to the speaker. ‘Maybe all of you can make it back to Bloomington for spring break. By then you’ll be adjusted to each other.”

“Yes, Dad. Definitely.” Luke’s voice was thick, more emotional than usual. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

“Well—” her dad grinned in a way that stilled his trembling chin—”Tommy will make a wonderful big brother.”

Ashley added her congratulations, but she was barely listening. She kept watching her father, trying to see past his happy smile and joyful eyes. Had it always been so easy? Keeping a

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secret the size of an elephant from all of his kids? Weren’t there times when he looked around the table and wondered where his firstborn was? how he was doing?

Ashley swallowed back the questions. Of course there were times like that—there had to be. He’d just kept them hidden, same as her mother.

The phone call came to an end, and they placed one to Erin and Sam. Their four girls were thriving, advancing in every area at their own pace.

“We’re all getting over colds around here.” Erin laughed. “We can never have just one or two sick kids, but all four have to get it at once.”

“I remember those days.” Her father gave a sympathetic laugh. “You kids were the same way. The worst was when you all had chicken pox. Your mother was a saint.”

Ashley studied him again, and her thoughts ran far beyond the moment. A saint, Dad? Mom was never a saint and neither were you. None of us ever are, right? All any of them could do was try their best and let God make up the difference.

Erin announced that their family was coming for spring break, same as Luke and Reagan. “He called me the other day.” Excitement sounded in Erin’s voice. “They should have their little girl by then, so we’ll all be together.”

Ashley stared at the black phone in the middle of the table and thought of her brother, the one she’d never met. Not all of us, Erin. Not all of us.

The call lasted another few minutes, and when it was over, Brooke and Peter pushed back from the table and talked about needing to get up early for Hayley’s physical therapy. The child was still making progress, and Brooke was particularly happy about the way her speech was coming along. Verbalization was the last step to recovering after a brain injury, Brooke explained, and Hayley could say ten or eleven words now.

Kari and Ryan agreed that it was best to get going too. “Little Ryan is sleeping through the night now.” Kari put her arm

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around Ryan and gave him a crooked grin. “We don’t want to mess that up, do we?”

It took another ten minutes for the group to gather the kids’ sweaters and shoes and say their goodbyes. Ashley worked alongside her sisters, helping Cole with his new hiking boots, the ones he had insisted on wearing, just in case they took a hike after dinner.

But neither she nor Landon had any intention of leaving yet. When the others left, Landon took Cole into the family room. “Cole and I need a little ESPN.

Sunday nights aren’t the same without Chris Berman’s NFL Primetime.”

Her father was standing in the entrance, leaning against the far wall where he’d stood while he said goodbye to the others. Now he gave Ashley a curious look.

“I thought you needed to get home?”

She had the letter in her back pocket, where it had been all night. “No, Dad.”

She nodded toward the stairway. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” At first his lighthearted demeanor remained. But then she was almost sure something deep and anxious flashed in his eyes. “My room?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He led the way upstairs, and when they were inside, Ashley shut the door. The box of letters was on the dresser, right out in the open. He dropped down on the corner of the mattress. She thought about sitting down beside him, but she couldn’t. She could barely breathe or move until she got past this.

Her father’s face was lined with concern now. Whether he knew what was coming or not, Ashley couldn’t tell, but he was worried. No question about that. He studied her. “This seems serious.”

“It is.” She took a few steps closer, so she stood right in front of him.

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Some of the color left his face. “You’re okay, right? Everything with the baby’s fine?”

“I’m fine.” She reached back, pulled the letter from her pocket, and held it out to him. “I found this in your room a few weeks ago. It was in an envelope marked Firstborn.”

He stared at the letter and then lifted his eyes to hers. She noticed him take hold of the bedpost, steadying himself. Fear and anger crossed his expression, but anger won out. He narrowed his eyes. “I asked you not to go through your mother’s letters.” Pain threw itself in the mix of emotions racking his voice.

He pointed at the box. “Those belong to me, Ashley. It was very important that no one else go through them.”

She had expected this, so she didn’t react. Instead she stood there motionless, watching him, waiting.

He snatched the letter from her hand. “Where’s the envelope?”

“Back at my house.”

“You took it from my room and opened it?” He hesitated, shocked. “Why, Ash?” The anger was fading. Panic took the lead, and his breathing grew faster, shallower.

“Why’d you come in here and take one of her letters when I clearly asked you not to?”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was indignant. Maybe she was wrong to take the letter, but that’s not what this moment was about. “I was getting Chap Stick, and I saw it as I walked past. The letter said Firstborn.” She looked past her father’s pretense and fear and shock. “I thought it was for Brooke.”

“So…” He swallowed hard and seemed to hold his breath, probably desperate to learn that somehow she hadn’t actually read the letter. He slumped a little, his voice quieter than before. “Did you.., did you read it?”

For the past hour Ashley had pictured herself being mad at him or, if not mad, at least hurt. How could her parents have kept this secret all their lives? And how was it fair that none of

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the Baxter kids had ever had a chance to know about their los brother, let alone meet him?

But now, watching him, she felt no anger or pain, except for him. He’d never intended for her to find out, so this was as much a shock for him as it was for her. She put her hand on his shoul der. “I read it, Dad.”

He held her eyes for a moment and then opened the letter. In a hurry he scanned the page before lowering it to his lap. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were full. “You know…”

“Yes.” Her knees felt weak. “We have an older brother.”

Her dad placed the letter on the bed beside him. Then he made a fist and brought it slowly to his forehead. “He was sup posed to be our secret.”

“Mom… she wanted to find him.”

A shaky sigh came from him. “I know. I’m… I’m trying.” The lines around his eyes and mouth made him look five years older than he had at dinner. “I’m talking to private investigators.” De feat filled in the crevices along his forehead. “Did you tell the others?”

“Only Landon.” Her own anger was still absent. She hadn’t expected him to look so broken. “They have to know, Dad. You need to tell them.”

He reached out and took her hand. “I want to find him first.” His tone was quietly intense, begging her to understand. “Then I’ll get everyone together and tell them. Can you let me do that?”

Ashley hung her head. He was asking her to keep the truth a secret from her siblings, something she hadn’t expected. Now that she knew, she figured he’d tell them right away. Tonight even. “Wouldn’t it be easier if everyone was looking for him?” Her voice was thick, her throat tight. “Helping Mom get her last wish?”

“No.” He picked up the letter and pressed it to his heart. “This part of our past belonged to just the two of us. I want to find him 303

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for her. Just me.” He looked at the box of letters. “I’d already decided I was going to do it. That’s why the letters were down.”

Defeat joined the other emotions vying for Ashley’s attention. “You could spend your life searching for him. Brooke and Kari and Erin and Luke… they all need to know.” A sob filled her throat, and she waited until she could find the words. “He’s our brother, Dad. One of us. We should’ve found him a long time ago.”

His expression twisted and without any words he pleaded with her. “We’ll all be together at spring break. I’ll tell them then.”

“Even if you haven’t found him?”

“Yes, no matter what.” He gave a small shrug. “We always thought it would hurt less if you kids didn’t know about him.”

Ashley shook her head, her words more of a quiet cry. “It hurts more.”

In all her life, she’d seen her father cry only a few times. When each of them got married, when it was clear Mom wasn’t going to make it, and when they lost her. But now, tears filled his eyes and spilled onto his leathery face. He never blinked, never took his eyes off her, and twice he swallowed, struggling as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“Ashley.” His voice was a choked whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Her legs couldn’t hold her up another minute. She took the place next to him on the bed and put her arms around his neck and held him. She hadn’t expected to cry, not when she had so many questions. But the questions didn’t matter as much now. She—and one day her siblings—would have a lifetime to talk about the answers, to hear the details of their parents’ past: how they’d gotten in trouble, how they’d survived the ordeal of being apart, and how they had given up a child.

Right now, if she could find the strength to speak, she needed to tell him something else. Because if anyone could understand what her parents had been through—why shame

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and regret and pain would’ve kept them quiet about the so many years—it was her.

He was saying it again. “I’m so sorry, Ashley. We never meant to hurt you kids with this.”

“I know, Dad. It’s okay.” She rested her forehead on his shoul der. “I love you.

We’re all going to be all right. God will help you find him. I have to believe that.”

Her father’s tears came harder, and Ashley understood the reason. Now, in addition to everything else ripping at his heart, he was feeling relief. All his life, he and her mother must’ve wor ried about how their kids would handle the news about their older brother if they ever found out. And now she was letting him know that nothing could tear at the soul of the Baxter family.

Not even something this big.

As she held him, Ashley was struck by the fact that this was what her parents had done for her seven years ago. They had held her and welcomed her and let her cry about the past. They had forgiven her. Now, in some ways, the tables were turned, and she knew what to do because it was what they would’ve done. What they had done. This wasn’t a time to push him or criticize him or force him into a decision he didn’t want to make.

It was a time to forgive.

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THE DRIVE TO THE STORAGE UNIT was a long time coming.

Dayne had thought about going there ever since Katy had brought it up at the lake that day. The thought had been on his mind through the rest of the location shoot in Indiana and during the long days of filming back at the studio. Every night he told himself that the next day he would drive to the San Fernando Valley, to the rented space where his past was boxed up and locked away. The spot where one box contained the paperwork and documents associated with his adoption, along with a framed photograph of Elizabeth Baxter.

But every day he’d found another reason to stay away. Too busy or too distracted or too much to think about. He was good at convincing himself that another day would work better.

Now, with filming of Dream On almost completed, he had no choice but to go. He’d accused Katy Hart of running, but he’d been doing the same thing ever since he returned from Bloomington. Running from his relationship with Kelly Parker 306

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and from the shallow conversations on the set. Definitely running from the people at the Kabbalah Learning Center. They must’ve remembered his schedule, because the calls started coming a day after he returned home.

“We know how anxious you are, Mr. Matthews,” one teacher told him. “We’re looking forward to having you in class. The upper world isn’t something you can reach without the teachings; you know that, right?”