Remember (11 page)

“Sure.” Reagan lifted one shoulder. “We have all day, right?” She looked at Luke.

“Right.”

“And we’re seeing
Riverdance
tonight—is that what’s on the schedule?”

“It is.” Reagan lowered her chin and gave Luke a warning look. “And no complaints from you guys, okay?”

Luke stifled a grin and held his hands up. “Not me.”

“Luke likes men in tights.” Mr. Decker gave him a light punch in the arm as he rounded his desk.

“Especially Irish tights.”

They could still hear Reagan’s father laughing as he closed his office door and headed down the hallway.

Luke stared at Reagan. “Can you see it?”

“What?” Her eyes danced. She leaned against the window, facing him.

“Me. In an office like this.” He gestured to the oversized leather chair behind the desk. “Working right next to your dad.”

“I guess.” A quiet ripple of laughter sounded on her lips. Luke closed the gap between them. She was so beautiful, and she seemed so happy spending this past week with her parents. In fact, these last few days with Reagan and her family had been enough to convince him.

One day—maybe one day soon—he would ask Reagan to marry him. They could have such a wonderful life together, maybe right here in New York. And no matter what hard times might come, the life of faith they would share together would feel like nothing but blue skies and sunsets. Day after day, year after year.

He wanted to kiss her, to take her in his arms and pull her close the way he’d longed to since they’d left Bloomington together. But her constant nearness was getting to him. If he wanted to keep his thoughts pure, they needed space between them—as often as possible, anyway. He backed up a few steps and fell into her father’s chair. Kicking his heels up on the corner of the desk, he linked his fingers behind his head and grinned at her. “Know what I want?”

She rested her back against the window and angled her head. “A pair of Irish tights?”

“After that.”

This time she let her head fall back, gentle laughter spilling from her like a song. “Okay.” She caught her breath. “Tell me what.”

“I want a position at the firm here . . . and an office down the hall from your father. That way”—he gave his voice a haughty sound—“I can support his daughter in the manner to which she has become accustomed.”

Reagan batted her eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s that or the glass slipper.” Luke grinned at her. They’d been dating for less than a year, and their discussions about forever were never very serious. But he was close to crossing the line here. “You know the score, Reagan. One way or another, I want you in my life.”

“Really?” She was teasing him, feeling him out.

“Really.” He held out his hand, and she came willingly. When she was close enough, he pulled her onto his lap and brought his nose up against hers. “You like New York, right?”

“I like glass slippers too.”

Suddenly the moment changed, and Luke’s words got stuck in his throat. He wove his fingers through her hair and kissed her until they heard footsteps in the hallway outside.

“He’s coming!” Reagan breathed the warning against Luke’s face and jumped back to her place by the window.

At the same time, Luke flew out of the chair and tried to strike a casual pose a few feet away. They were both out of breath when the door opened.

“Meetings!” Mr. Decker gave them each a quick glance and circled back behind his desk again. He set down a portfolio and clapped his hands together. “Okay . . . you two hungry?”

Luke glanced at Reagan. The man had no idea. He turned back to Mr. Decker and shrugged. “Sure.”

“All right, then. Windows on the World it is.”

When they passed by the office next to Mr. Decker’s, Luke pointed to the nameplate, shot a glance at Reagan, and mouthed, “Luke Baxter.”

And in that moment, he had no doubt that one day it would be true. Not just the nameplate, but everything—the job, the wedding, the place in New York City.

Even the glass slipper.

Chapter Eleven

God was honoring her.

As Kari walked to Pastor Mark Atteberry’s office that Tuesday afternoon, she had no other way to explain her feelings. Days had passed since she’d stayed up late into the night, dreaming of how to use her painful experience to help other women. And her heart had felt lighter every day since.

In the weeks after Jessie’s birth, there had been times when Kari cried with joy—and other times when fear and loneliness loomed large. Her husband was dead, after all, and somehow she would have to survive. Even with her faith, even with her family nearby, there were entire days when the task felt daunting—or worse.

And her feelings for Ryan Taylor complicated matters. It was a good thing he lived in New York. At this season in her life it would have been unbearable to see him on a regular basis, to shoulder the constant reminder of all she and Ryan had once shared. Just thinking about him made her feel unfaithful, like she was cheating on Tim’s memory.

But now that God had planted new purpose in the soil of her life, Kari could talk to Ryan and enjoy herself. She no longer depended on a phone call from him to ease the burden of grief at the end of a day of caring for her fatherless child. Indeed, God had taken her to a separate place, a place away from the pain and anguish. Away, even, from the brief flashes of pleasure she felt when she spoke with Ryan.

Her place now was clear and close and constant, as though God had drawn her into his very being. She’d read in the Scriptures about the Lord being a mighty fortress, a tower, a hiding place. But only now was she realizing those truths in her own life. She was there now, safe in a place she had longed to find since she was a young girl.

But she never would have guessed the ticket there would cost so very much.

Kari rounded a corner in the church hallway and held Jessie’s infant carrier against her body, careful not to disturb her tiny sleeping daughter. Jessie was nearly three months old now, and Kari could see a routine developing in her sleep patterns. If the routine held, Jessie wouldn’t wake for another hour.

Pastor Mark’s door was open.

“Kari, come in.” He stood and gave her a side hug as he positioned himself behind Jessie’s carrier. “Let’s take a look.”

Kari beamed, letting her gaze follow that of the pastor’s. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Oh my.” A soft breath came from Mark’s lips. “She’s beautiful. No question she has her mother’s face.”

The corners of Kari’s smile softened some. “And her father’s eyes.”

“Yes.” Pastor Mark nodded, squeezing Kari’s shoulders once more. “I was going to say that.” He gave her a glance. “You doing okay?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Kari moved to a small sofa a few feet away and sat down. She set Jessie’s carrier on the floor nearby, rocking it gently.

“So . . .” Pastor Mark returned to his desk chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “How’s your family?”

“Good.” Kari smiled, reminding herself to be patient. She had known this wouldn’t be a short discussion. “Mom got a good report from her doctor last week. Still no cancer. It’s been nearly ten years now.”

“That’s wonderful. I hadn’t talked to your father yet. He was worried.”

“He was?” Her father hadn’t said anything about being troubled by her mother’s test.

Pastor Mark shrugged. “He’s always worried when your mom goes in for tests. Anytime people battle cancer, there’s a chance they’ll have to battle it again.”

“Well . . .” Kari pushed the thought from her mind. “Her doctors say she looks great.”

“Good.” The pastor crossed his legs. “How about the others? Brooke, Erin, Ashley, Luke?”

“They’re fine. Brooke’s little girl is still sick a lot, and Erin and Sam are moving this fall. Ashley took a job at Sunset Hills—that small adult care home off South Walnut.”

“Yes, we’ve had church members wind up there on occasion.”

“Heaven’s waiting room, Dad calls it.” Kari tilted her head. “Sweet people, from what Ashley says.”

“She must be glad Landon’s okay.”

“Yes,” Kari sighed. “I think God has something special planned for those two.”

The pastor cast her a curious look. “So she’s finally decided to let him catch her?”

“Ashley?” Kari laughed quietly. She stopped rocking Jessie and leaned back. “Not my sister Ashley. She’ll do everything the hard way, including falling in love. She cares for Landon, but she’d be the last to admit there’s any kind of romance.”

“What about Luke?” Pastor Mark stroked his chin. “I haven’t seen him around for a few weeks.”

“He’s in New York City visiting Reagan’s family.”

“Reagan?” The pastor raised a single eyebrow. “So it’s serious, huh?”

Kari grinned, picturing her brother and Reagan. “They’re beautiful together. They study and laugh and pray. The two of them remind everyone watching that love is still a good thing.” She nodded. “I’d say it’s serious.”

“Is she from New York, then?” Conversations with Pastor Mark were always like this—several minutes of Baxter news before anything serious could be discussed. It wasn’t small talk to the pastor. It was news the man actually cared about, as though he, too, were part of the Baxter family.

“Her parents lived there a long time ago; then they moved to North Carolina. Last year her father was hired by a big accounting firm in the city. He works in the clouds, from what Luke says. Near the top of the World Trade Center.”

“Must be an amazing view.” Pastor Mark smiled. “Nothing quite like it in Bloomington, I’m afraid.”

“Luke’s getting the full tour this week.” She smiled. “The other night my sisters and I figured out the whole scenario. Luke will graduate, marry Reagan, and the two of them will move to New York. Then Luke can have an office right up there in the sky beside Reagan’s father.”

“Could happen.” The pastor winked and drew a slow breath. “But I don’t think that’s what you came to tell me.” His eyes grew deeper, more intent. “It sounded important when you called the other day.”

“It is.” Kari could feel her eyes come to life. She’d been wanting to talk about this since that night. “Okay.” She held out both hands. “I know what God wants me to do with the rest of my life.”

“Well”—the pastor’s kind chuckle filled the room—“that’s more than most of us can say.” His eyes narrowed in a thoughtful way. “Tell me about it.”

Kari tried to sit on her enthusiasm. She would need to be calm and concise in order to give Pastor Mark a clear picture of her vision. “I’m thinking there are other people like me in the church. I mean, people who are hurting. The walking wounded. Am I right? I’m not the only one?”

A sad smile punctuated the pastor’s expression. “You’ve been bugging my phones.” He leaned back in his chair a few inches and raised his brow a notch. “There are more wounded people than most care to guess.”

Kari bit her lip. “That’s what I thought.” She drew a steady breath. “Before Tim died . . . before he told me he was having an affair . . . I pictured the two of us working with married couples, people struggling to make it work.” She uttered a rueful laugh. “People like Tim and me, I guess. Obviously, that didn’t work out.”

Jessie cooed lightly and stretched a tiny fist. Kari leaned over and set the carrier gently in motion once more. “Anyway, last week I practically felt God tap me on the shoulder and tell me there’s still something he wants me to do. Women who are hurting—I mean
really
hurting—won’t necessarily seek help from a weekly Bible study.” She locked eyes with Pastor Mark. “What they need is, well, sort of a mentor. Someone who will meet with them one-on-one, study the Scriptures with them, cry with them,  and listen when they bare their soul. Sort of an anonymous friend who can keep their secrets. Someone who can look them straight in the eye and say, ‘I made it through the fire, and you can too.’ You know, to bridge the gap between pain and progress.”

Kari spread her fingers across her chest, her voice soft but filled with holy passion. “Someone like me.”

Pastor Mark nodded. “Hmmm.” His eyes filled with understanding. “People trapped in their pain, you mean? Sort of an anonymous way to find help and support.”

“Yes.” Kari’s heartbeat quickened. “From someone who’s already walked that road. At least in one form or another.”

The pastor snagged a pen and paper from his desk and began jotting something down. “I can think of a woman right now who would jump at the chance to meet with you. Her husband’s on the verge of an affair. He’s already talking divorce. She’s a very private person. Doesn’t want anyone at church to know.” He tapped the pen on his knee, staring at his notes. “Meanwhile, she’s wasting away spiritually. If I called her and told her about your offer, I’m sure she’d be interested.” Then he put down the pen and turned toward Kari. “But something tells me it’s a bit soon.”

“Soon?” She gave a polite sniff. “My feelings are fresh enough to make a difference.”

“But they could be
too
fresh. I think you might need a little more time to heal before you start counseling someone else.”

The excitement leaked from Kari’s heart like air from a punctured tire. She fell back against the sofa.

“Healing takes time, Kari. It takes remembering—sorting through the pieces of your past and savoring what was good, learning from what wasn’t. In that way you honor your yesterdays. After that”—he smiled—“I have a feeling God will use you to help more people than you can imagine.”

“You really think so?” Hope stirred within her.

“Definitely. But it’s crucial you don’t rush this, Kari. You and God have a lot to work through before you can take on a ministry.”

At the end of the hour, Pastor Mark wrote a list of books Kari could read, studies on healing and learning from the memories of a painful time or difficult loss. They prayed together, committing Kari’s dream to God and asking for his guidance in the coming months.

Kari left the pastor’s office with a renewed peace and a purpose that filled her from her ankles up. Maybe this wasn’t the time to start helping other women. But that time would come. How glad Tim would’ve been to see where God was taking her—first through the memories that made up her past and then into a future where all her remembering would help in the lives of other women.