Remember (31 page)

He could picture his friend Jalen, how he must have looked in the minutes after getting the call to the World Trade Center. His blue eyes would have been serious, heart racing as his hook and ladder made its way to the scene. Jalen would have been one of the first ones up the stairwell, one of the first to reach the victims. He’d probably made it to the top of the tower before the building collapsed. No doubt he’d been helping people down the stairs even as the floor gave way.

“Why, God?” Landon shouted the words and balled his hands into tight fists.

Minutes passed, and suddenly Landon felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and locked eyes with a kind, black man whose energetic smile was known across the country. The man was an author and speaker, a regular at Promise Keepers and other national conferences. Someone Landon deeply respected.

He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

The man knelt beside him. The two of them were still the only people near the cross. “I saw you over here.” He gave Landon a sad smile. “You’re a believer, aren’t you?”

Landon nodded, speechless.

“What’s your name?”

“Landon.”

The man reached out his hand and introduced himself—as if that were necessary. “May I pray with you?”

Landon’s heart was beating hard. “Sure.”

The man took Landon’s hand and bowed his head. “Lord, this is a dark time for our nation, but particularly for those who serve, those who honor America with their dedication, sometimes with their lives.” He drew a quick breath. “Please comfort Landon, meet him in this place, and remind him of his first love. It’s easy to be distracted here among so much death. But please, Lord, restore life to Landon’s heart and help him see you, help him feel your touch. Even here at Ground Zero. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Before Landon had time to ask questions, the man was gone, off to find another hurting person to pray with. Dumbfounded, Landon stared up at the cross. His heart felt like it had been brought back to life.
God, you heard me. You knew what I needed, and you sent someone I could trust.

Landon remembered the man’s prayer.
“Remind him of his first love. . . . Remind him of his first love.”

That was it, wasn’t it? His hours at Ground Zero had been so taken up with death that Landon had forgotten to fill his mind with thoughts of life. Thoughts of God, of his goodness and plans for his people. Every good thing he knew to be true about God, every promise and divine truth, had been covered in ash—all but unrecognizable since he’d arrived in New York City.

Yes, he’d forgotten his first love. Not just God but Ashley as well. Someday when this nightmare was over, he would go back to Bloomington. And when he did, he would find Ashley and convince her beyond any doubt that they belonged together. Whether that was a month or a year from now didn’t matter. Time wouldn’t change the way he felt about her.

The last thing he did before returning to the line was pull the card from his pocket, the one with the blonde’s name and phone number. He ripped it in half and stuffed it deep into the layer of debris near the base of the cross. Then he dusted off his hands and headed back to work.

This time he no longer felt alone. He could sense the Lord at his side, his presence as real as if the two were walking shoulder to shoulder. He stepped into the line and grabbed hold of his first bucket of rubble, suddenly knowing what he would do that night—if not that night, then sometime soon. He would make the call he should have made a long time ago.

Not to the blonde stranger, but to a girl who was in his blood no matter what life dealt him. A girl he prayed would one day recognize God as her first love also.

That afternoon while he worked, Landon prayed for Ashley as he’d never done before. Constantly and with fervor, hour after hour.

Let her find you, God, please. Meet her where she is and let her know you’re real. Nothing I can say or do will ever bring her close to you. But you, God—you can reach her. I know it.

Just before dark, a peace came over Landon, almost as though the Lord had hugged him. Landon wanted to raise a victory fist in the air. The peace could mean only one thing: His prayers had been answered. One day—however far off—Ashley Baxter would give her heart to God.

Whenever that day came, Landon had no doubt that she would feel as strongly for him as he did for her.

Now it was a matter of surviving until then.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Thanksgiving Day was quieter than usual.

By three o’clock the dinner was ready, and John Baxter called everyone to gather at the table for the blessing. He glanced at the circle of familiar faces and wondered why the atmosphere was so subdued. Certainly Luke’s attitude played a part; he’d spent the entire day holed up in his room. It was Erin and Sam’s last holiday season before they moved—that must have been on the hearts of some of them.

But most likely his family’s mood was a direct reflection of their nation’s. In light of September 11, most Americans had a greater sense of appreciation for their faith, their families, their freedom, but also a deep sense of sadness, of mourning. The Baxters were no exception.

The country was at war with Afghanistan, and that, too, made for a more somber atmosphere. Reports were coming in daily about bombing missions and the potential for ground troops to be  deployed. The Baileys down the street had a son serving on the USS
Theodore Roosevelt
in the Arabian Sea. The boy was a friend of Luke’s, a fighter pilot. He hadn’t had a day’s rest since the war began.

Everyone held hands as John surveyed the group. Pastor Mark and his wife, Marilyn, had joined them for the second straight year. Everyone was present except . . .

John stifled an exasperated sigh. “Luke!” His voice carried through the house, and the others turned toward the stairs. “Time to eat.”

There was a pause, and then they heard a bedroom door open. “Go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

A knot formed in John’s stomach. Luke had been hiding in his room lately. His absence made John’s few conversations with him tense and brief. John had shared his concerns with Pastor Mark, and now the two men exchanged a knowing glance. Around the table, several others did the same.

Next to John, Elizabeth squeezed his hand and nodded—her way of saying she would make the next attempt. “Luke, come down.” Her voice was pleasant but firm. “It’s Thanksgiving. We’re waiting for you.”

Everyone in the circle seemed to hold their collective breath as they heard his bedroom door open again. This time Luke said nothing, just bounded down the stairs. John wasn’t surprised that he responded to Elizabeth. For some reason, most of Luke’s recent animosity seemed directed at him.

“Sorry.” Luke took his place in the circle between Ashley and Cole. His expression was one of bored tolerance, but at least he wasn’t pushing the issue.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth smiled in his direction, but he only nodded and stared up at the ceiling.

John studied him for a moment. Whatever was wrong with Luke, he hadn’t been himself since the terrorist attacks. John wanted to order him to change his attitude, force him to be polite, the way he had when Luke was little. But Luke was older now, and this wasn’t the time or place.

The others had their eyes closed and were ready for the prayer. John bowed his head. “Lord, thank you for this meal you’ve provided. Thank you for the blessing of family and good health, for watching over us this past year. We pray for those struggling with losses this Thanksgiving. . . .” Images of Reagan and Landon flashed in John’s head, and for a moment he was too choked up to speak. “We remember them now, Lord, and we ask that you remember them also. Comfort them, and comfort those fighting for our freedom overseas. Most of all, Father, we thank you for the gift of living in America. Your goodness surrounds us, and we are grateful beyond words.”

The meal was unhurried, punctuated with quiet conversation and occasional bouts of silliness from the children. Erin and Sam announced they’d postponed their move until the summer. Uncertainties at Sam’s company had led to layoffs. Though management still wanted him at their Texas location, the arrangements had been delayed. Erin seemed relieved, but she was clearly still concerned about the move.

Ashley gave them an update on the residents at Sunset Hills. “I needed a few things for Bert’s room—you know, to make him more comfortable. I found one of them on eBay. It should get here any day.”

Kari finished a bite of mashed potatoes. “I love eBay, especially when I’m busy.” She looked behind her and checked on Jessie. The baby was sleeping peacefully on a blanket in the family room. “You can find almost anything.”

“By the way”—Peter set his fork down and looked at Pastor Mark—“we really enjoyed your message last Sunday. You’ve got us thinking.”

John shot Elizabeth a quick wink. The greatest thing to happen to the Baxters since the terrorist attacks was that Brooke and Peter and even Ashley were attending church. Peter was a private man, an accomplished young doctor with a history of relying on himself. Brooke was private too, for that matter. Only an event as life-changing as what happened September 11 could have moved them to enjoy a Sunday sermon.

“Thanks.” Pastor Mark shrugged. “That’s my job.”

Peter glanced at Brooke and then back to the pastor. “Actually, we’d like to meet with you one evening next week if that works for you.”

There was silence around the table, as though none of them knew what to say or how to react to Peter’s statement. Then Pastor Mark’s smile lit the room. “Sounds good to me. Let’s talk about it after dinner.”

Next to him, John could feel Elizabeth’s joy. How many years had they prayed for Brooke and Peter, that the two of them might realize life could not be explained by textbooks and scientific knowledge alone?

“Mommy, I’m done.” Four-year-old Maddie, who never ate a lot, was squirming in her booster seat. “Can I go play?”

“Yeah!” Cole piped in. “Let’s build a Lego fort!”

“Me too!” Little Hayley’s eyes grew wide, and she tugged on Brooke’s sleeve. “Go play.”

Brooke grinned. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“By the way”—Pastor Mark’s wife looked at Brooke as she helped Hayley down from her seat—“how’s Maddie doing? Last I heard, she was still fighting a virus or something?”

Brooke’s features hardened some. For all their medical training, neither Brooke nor Peter had been able to explain their daughter’s strange fevers. It was a topic Brooke didn’t like to talk about. “She’s well now.” The corners of Brooke’s mouth lifted, but the fear in her eyes remained. “We’re”—she shot a quick look at Peter—“we’re praying for her.”

Praying for her?
John worked to contain his surprise. It was one thing to see Brooke and Peter interested in church and meeting with Pastor Mark. But to have them talk so openly about praying? John silently thanked God. Quiet or not, this was a Thanksgiving he’d never forget.

The meal continued, but Luke said little. When the conversation turned to the war in Afghanistan, he stopped eating and stared at his plate. He dragged his fork through the sweet potatoes, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“I think they got Osama bin Laden.” Sam buttered another roll and looked at the others. “If he’s dead in one of those caves, no one will find him for months.”

“I don’t know.” Peter’s eyes grew thoughtful. “The man’s pretty resourceful.”

“Pretty evil, you mean.” Kari passed the fruit salad to Elizabeth. “I can’t believe he had terrorist camps set up right here in the United States. It’s too awful.”

Pastor Mark focused on Ashley. “What do you hear from Landon?”

All her life Ashley had worked to be aloof, different from the rest of them. But John knew her too well. The emotions that flashed across her face at the mention of Landon’s name told him one thing clearly: She loved Landon Blake. For the first time since the two of them had known each other, she actually loved him.

Ashley drew a quick breath. “He hasn’t called.” She let her gaze fall to the half-eaten food on her plate for a moment. “I think he’s planning to stay there for a while.”

“Is he still working at Ground Zero?” Marilyn’s question was innocent enough, but John could see by the tilt of Ashley’s chin that it was difficult for her to answer.

“His mother says he is. He’s . . . he’s still looking for his friend Jalen.”

“Jalen?” Marilyn paused, her expression curious. “The fireman, right?”

“Right.” Tears formed in Ashley’s eyes, and she blinked them back. “He was working in one of the twin towers when they collapsed.”

With that, Luke set his fork and napkin down and pushed back from the table. “Excuse me.” He flashed a practiced smile at the rest of them, turned, and headed up the stairs. “I’ll be in my room.”

A nervous silence mixed with the warm smells of dinner and hung over the table for a moment. Ashley wiped her mouth. “Luke doesn’t like talking about Ground Zero.” She shook her head and gave the Atteberrys a sympathetic smile. “It’s not your fault. He’s just—he hasn’t heard from Reagan since she left. The whole thing’s been hard on him.”

John stared at Ashley. How did she know? Luke hadn’t been sharing his feelings with John or Elizabeth, but apparently he had been very open with Ashley. John thought about that for a moment. It was probably a good thing. Though Luke’s silence toward him hurt, John couldn’t be anything but grateful for the renewed friendship between Luke and Ashley.

“I’m sorry.” Marilyn took her husband’s hand. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Pastor Mark raised an eyebrow in Ashley’s direction. “I’m leading a group at church for people struggling with what happened September eleventh.” He looked at the others. “Lots of folks have questions. The group gives them a chance to talk through their feelings. Luke might be interested.”

Ashley took a sip of water and nodded. “I don’t think he knows about it.”

John let his gaze fall to his plate. Of course Luke didn’t know about it. He had been to church just once since the attacks.

“Okay.” Ashley took another slice of turkey. “I’ll tell him.”