Remember (8 page)

“Hi.” She smiled at him, clutching her crocheted bag to her waist. She sat in the chair beside his bed.

“Hey, I didn’t think you were coming.” His eyes met and held hers. What was it she could see there? Regret? Anger? Uncertainty? Ashley wasn’t sure, but something was definitely wrong.

“It’s Erin’s birthday.” Ashley leaned back in the chair and set her bag on the floor. “Baxter dinner parties can run pretty late.”

Landon’s smile did not erase the distance in his eyes. “I’m sure.”

Ashley studied him. “You look good.” There was more color in his face. “How long before they let you go?”

“Not sure. No skin grafts, so that’s good news. They want my lungs to function better.” He grinned. “I have a strict doctor.”

“You’re telling me.” Ashley rolled her eyes, a smile tugging on her lips. “I grew up with him.”

They were quiet, and Ashley looked at the television again. This was the moment, her chance to ask him what he was thinking. But before she could find the words, Landon broke the silence.

“Why, Ash?”

Her eyes returned to his. “Why, what?”

“Why are you here?”

She shifted positions, her heart thudding against the wall of her chest. She couldn’t back out now. “I’m worried about you.”

“I get that.” He motioned toward his monitors. “But I’m not in danger now. I haven’t been for twenty-four hours.” He looked at her, his gaze working its way deep into her soul. “So why are you here?”

What should she tell him? Had he heard the words she’d spoken when he was near death the other day? Was he waiting for her to say them now, to his face? She bit the inside of her lip and searched desperately for the answers. “I’m your friend, Landon. I care. That’s why.”

Landon let his head fall back against his pillow. For a moment he watched the ball game again, staring at the screen while a burly batter missed two pitches and hit the third out of the park. Ashley watched, too, not sure what to say.

When the game broke for a commercial, Landon used his remote control and clicked the Off button. The screen went black.

Once more Landon turned his attention to her. “I heard you.”

Ashley felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”

“The first night, when I was unconscious.” Landon peered at her through eyes laden with emotion. “I heard everything.”

“You . . . you couldn’t even breathe. What do you mean you heard everything?”

“Look, Ashley, as far back as I can remember I’ve tried to figure you out.” He tossed out his hands, his eyes darting about the room, looking for answers that had long since eluded him. “What would Ashley want? What would Ashley think? Why doesn’t Ashley want me?” His gaze met hers again. “God’s given me everything I’ve set my mind on, Ashley. Everything . . . except you.”

The heat in Ashley’s cheeks felt strong enough to warm the entire room. He had heard her, just as she’d feared. And now they were both too confused to know how to act, what to say, how to move ahead from here. Her tone was soft. “What did you hear, Landon?”

“No, Ashley.” He worked the muscles in his jaw. “You tell me. Tell me the same thing you told me that night. Then tell me what you meant by it, so I can have some form of sanity here.”

“Please, Landon.” Ashley wanted to shout, but instead she pleaded with him, begging him to understand. “I thought you were dying.”

A single exasperated laugh came from Landon’s lips. “As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Ashley Baxter. Why I let you get under my skin all those years ago, I’ll never know.” His face grew softer, more serious. “Tell me, Ashley. Tell me what you told me when you thought I was dying.”

No!
She couldn’t tell him!

A hundred thoughts ricocheted off the walls of Ashley’s mind, vying for position. Love between her and Landon could never work, never amount to anything more than heartache for both of them. He needed a sweet, Christian wife—someone who would sit at home waiting for him to return from the firehouse, someone who would pray for him every time sirens rang out across Bloomington. Someone quaint and cute and conservative.

Ashley was none of those things. Especially after Paris. She could never love a man unless she had the freedom to tell him what happened that year in France. And if there was one person she could never tell, it was Landon Blake. No way. He was moral and righteous, a man of the highest standards—a hero, no less. She couldn’t stand having him think of her as dirty and cheap.

What point was there in loving him now?

Ashley blinked. Yet, that’s what she’d told him, wasn’t it? That she loved him.

Landon coughed twice and took a sip of water. Then he looked at her again. “I already know, Ashley. Tell me.”

Like an avalanche, Ashley felt the walls of her pride give way. Her shoulder slumped forward, and when she spoke, there was none of the fierce independence that usually rang in her voice. She locked eyes with Landon and told him the truth, the way she felt still, even if it was the craziest feeling in all the world.

“I . . . I told you I love you.” She leaned forward, her voice barely audible over the ticking of the clock. “I didn’t want you to die without knowing.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Landon’s eyes welled up, and his face twisted into a mask of confusion. “But I couldn’t believe it. Not until now. Not until I heard it from your own lips.” He searched her face. “Why is it so hard for you, Ashley? To tell me how you feel? When you know how I’ve always felt about you?”

“Because . . .” Ashley felt like a person falling from a cliff. “. . . I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Landon leaned forward, stiff, as though someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his hospital gown.

“I . . .” Ashley crossed her arms and dug her fists into the knots in her stomach. “. . . I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, Landon. You know, like I wanted something between us. A relationship or something.”

The pain that flashed in Landon’s eyes sliced straight through her. But it was gone almost instantly, gathered back into a closet of his heart where she clearly wasn’t allowed.

He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “Of course not, Ash.” Gone was the intimacy of a moment ago, and in its place was the protective veneer, the casual friendship she’d grown accustomed to. The one she was more comfortable with. “I would
never
think that. Not of the mysterious Ashley Baxter.”

“Landon . . .” Ashley wanted to kick herself. This was going all wrong. Yes, she had feelings for Landon. But where could they possibly lead? “I didn’t mean it like that; it’s just . . .”

Landon held up his hand. “It’s okay.” Resignation was written across his face. “I understand.” He drew in a deep breath and held out his hand to her. She reached up and took it, allowing him to weave his fingers between hers. “I have something to tell you.”

Ashley wanted to think straight, but the feel of Landon’s hand in hers was almost more than she could bear. She forced herself to focus. “What?”

“I’m moving.” He worked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I was looking for a chance to tell you before I got hurt.”

Ashley was unable to breathe for a moment. Landon was kidding, lying. Trying to get back at her for not loving him the way he loved her. She felt suddenly awkward holding his hand. Her fingers eased free, and she crossed her arms again. “Moving where?”

“New York.” Peace came over Landon, and he settled back against his pillow once more. “Jalen’s there. I told you about him, right?”

Jalen? The name was vaguely familiar. Ashley’s mind raced. She was struck by how little she’d really listened to Landon since she’d been home from Paris. She’d been so determined not to fall in love with him that she’d barely heard him. “Vaguely.”

Landon smiled. “Jalen and I met at the University of Texas as freshmen. He’s the one who convinced me to get on the volunteer fire department in this little town outside Austin. When we left school he went to New York City. I came home to Bloomington to train and get in the department here.”

Ashley felt sick to her stomach. “But New York, Landon? Isn’t this kind of . . . I don’t know . . . sudden?”

“Not really. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He shrugged. “Jalen and I talk once a month or so, and he’s always in the thick of things. Saving people, rushing into burning high-rises, that kind of thing. In New York City, fighting fires is a passion. Here in Bloomington it’s more of a pastime.”

“So you’re moving to New York to fight fires with Jalen because there’s not enough excitement here? Is that it?” Ashley gestured at the cast on Landon’s leg, the bandages on his back and thighs. “Haven’t you had enough excitement for a while?”

“It isn’t the excitement, really. It’s making my life count.” He stared at her and, for an instant, he allowed his emotions to surface as they had before. “After hearing your voice when they brought me in here, I actually had doubts about going. That’s why . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Why you’ve been so quiet?” It all made sense finally—the awkwardness she’d been feeling, the strange uneasiness between them. Landon was moving. He had been looking for a way to tell her, but then he’d been hurt. And as he lay near death, her words of love had made him wonder if he was making a mistake by going.

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry, Landon.” She reached for his hand again. “I had no idea.”

“I know. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have read so much into what you said. It’s just . . . when you told me you loved me, I had to know what you meant. Because if you meant it—well, if you meant it the way I’d hoped, I could never leave.”

There it was again. Landon’s true feelings laid out before her like an open gift. If only she could love him the way he loved her. “Sometimes I wish I were normal. Like other girls.”

Landon laughed and leaned over, gently brushing his fingers across her brow. “You could never be like other girls, Ashley. It would be wrong to try.”

“You have a job there? In New York, I mean?”

“I flew out for an interview a month ago. They ran me through a week of tests and drills.” He shrugged. “I made the cut. I was supposed to start the first of August.”

Ashley looked again at the cast and the bandages. “That’s three weeks from now.”

“I know. I called them this morning.” He grimaced. “They’ve rescheduled my start date for November. That way I’ll have my cast off and time to get my leg back in shape.”

A wave of acceptance washed across the shore of Ashley’s heart. “So you’re really moving to New York?”

“Yep. It’ll be Jalen and me, fighting fires and saving lives right there in the heart of the Big Apple. Action and more action every day we’re on duty.”

Ashley nodded, suddenly concerned. “How long will you stay?” She had no right to ask. But still, she wanted to know.

“Maybe a year, maybe forever.” Landon gave her a crooked grin. “Jalen says fighting fires in New York gets into your blood. Makes you never want to leave.”

A thread of fear sewed its way through her, leaving her in knots. She remembered back when Landon had left for the University of Texas. Somehow she had always known he’d come back to Bloomington. But this time . . . this time he might not. Maybe never.

She blinked back the tears. “I know I’m weird. About relationships and stuff. But don’t forget something while you’re out there fighting fires with Jalen.”

“What’s that?” Landon took hold of her hand again and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers, his smile light and easy, the seriousness long gone from his expression.

Ashley slid to the edge of her chair and spoke words she hoped would take root squarely in his heart. “I do love you, Landon. Maybe not the way you want me to. Maybe not the way I should. But I love you. I always have.”

Ashley stood and leaned partially over him. She hugged him close, clinging to him, dimly aware of a new, curiously intoxicating effect his body had on hers. “Can you remember that when you’re far away in New York City?”

“Always, Ashley.” Landon nuzzled his face against hers and whispered into her ear. “Always.”

Chapter Eight

The idea hit just before midnight.

After talking to Ryan at her parents’ house, Kari had gone home with Jessie and spent the night praying, begging God to show her some small bit of good that might come from the sadness in her life.

And now, suddenly, her course of action was clear.

For years she’d dreamed of helping married couples—praying with them, counseling them, working with them so they might not become another statistic. But when Tim moved out with his girlfriend, Kari figured any dreams of her helping married people had been destroyed right along with her wedding vows.

True, in the end she and Tim had trusted God and found a way to make their marriage work. But their story wasn’t really much of a success. In the end, Tim’s affair had still cost him every chance at a happy ending. It had cost him his life, after all.

But as Kari sat in the darkness staring out the window at the streetlight, she realized something she hadn’t before. With God’s help, she had survived first Tim’s affair, then his death. How many women at Clear Creek Community Church were battling similar situations? Maybe their husbands hadn’t moved in with a girlfriend—or been murdered. But if God had brought her through those trials, he could bring other hurting women through their trials, whatever they were. Even better, maybe Kari could be part of that healing process.

A picture began to develop in Kari’s mind. The longer she sat there, the clearer it got. She could start a ministry for the walking wounded, for women who thought their marriages were over, who had no idea what to do next in order to save their relationships or their sanity. Women just like her.

Pastor Mark Atteberry had been telling her for weeks that God had something special planned for her. All the time, Kari had wondered in the back of her mind if that something might be a relationship with Ryan Taylor. She felt terrible for thinking it, but she’d thought it all the same. Not that Pastor Mark would have meant that. He was merely sharing his impression with her. When he prayed for her, he’d been given the strong sense that God was up to something big.