Sunset: 4 (Sunrise) (10 page)

Ashley grabbed her car keys and stepped out back where Landon and Cole and Devin were sorting through a bucket of nails. She smiled at the picture they made—Landon, the dad Ashley had always known he would be, loving and kind, strong and tenderhearted.

He grinned at her. “This time we’re finding the strongest nails in the bucket.”

“Good idea.” She laughed and walked a little closer. A thunderstorm had come through last night, and the winds had ripped down a section of the boys’ tree house. It was Saturday, and Landon had the day off. He and the boys planned to spend a few hours not only fixing the tree house but making it better than before. She stepped into the shade from the tree and peered up at the broken branch that had done the damage. “The winds were stronger than I thought.”

“Not to me.” Cole looked up, his hands plunged into the bucket of nails, his blond bangs pushed to the side. “That’s why I brought Devin into your room.”

Ashley tried to keep from grinning. “Yes, Coley . . . so nice of you to look out for Devin.” The truth was, Cole had scurried to her room during thunderstorms since long before she and Landon married five years ago. Now, though, since he was a big nine-year-old, he liked to say he was looking out for his little brother. Ashley didn’t mind, and neither did Landon. Storms were the perfect time for kids to sleep in the middle.

“You’re going to your dad’s to paint?” Landon brushed his hands off on his jeans. The smears of dirt on his cheek only accentuated the ruggedness of his face, and Ashley felt the familiar attraction, the way his nearness caused her breath to catch ever so slightly at the back of her throat.

Instead of answering him, Ashley slowly touched her lips to his. “You look good with dirt on your face,” she whispered close to his ear. “You always have.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes sparkled. “Maybe I’ll cut back on my showers.”

She tried to think of something witty to say, something to keep their little game going, but she began to laugh. “You’re a goofball; you know that?” She kissed him again.

“Goo-ball!” Devin toddled over and tugged on Landon’s hand. “Up, Daddy!”

Landon chuckled and swung Devin onto his hip. “Where were we?”

“Painting.” Ashley put her hand on Devin’s back and then touched his soft, downy hair. “Just for a few hours. I have an image I can’t stop thinking of.”

“Well, go paint it.” Landon nodded to the tree. “We boys have our work cut out for us.”

“We might make another floor if we get the time.” Cole came up and hugged her around the waist. “When you get back, come out and see it.”

“I will.” Ashley looked at Landon again. “Thanks.” She hesitated, loving the depth and emotion she saw in her husband’s eyes.

“For what?”

“For letting me paint.”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned and kissed her one last time. “Painting is like breathing for you. If you didn’t want to go, I’d drive you there myself.”

A question rushed at her. Where would she paint when her father sold the Baxter house? Would he include a room at his new house, or would she simply have to find another place, a corner of the living room or a spot in the garage maybe? But she couldn’t bring herself to share her concerns. While the house remained on the market, at least for now, she could still return to her old bedroom, where her easel stood and images came to life without effort.

Ashley bid them good-bye and headed for her van. They were under a tornado watch today until noon. After that the sky was expected to clear up, the way it often did in mid-March. She held tight to the wheel but instead of making the turn to her dad’s house, she went left and headed for the cemetery.

She’d been nauseous for days leading up to the weekend, but this morning for the first time she felt well enough to be out, strong enough to take stock of her feelings and fears. They’d had their first ultrasound, and the baby’s heartbeat was fine. Same as Sarah’s had been. Now they would have to wait two weeks until the next appointment, when the test would show whether this baby was developing normally or if . . .

The thought hung in her mind, unfinished. She stared up at the sky and refused to give in to her fears. The clouds were already breaking up, the threat of a tornado waning. She thought back to the headlines this morning and the follow-up story about the Bloomington tornado two years ago. The town had come back, the article said. Houses were restored and memorials set up for those who lost their lives. The article even talked about the infant who had been found unharmed in her crib on the front lawn of her home, her family’s sole survivor. The child had been adopted by a local couple and was doing well.

Ashley sighed and leaned back into her seat. She kept one hand on the wheel and the other tenderly against her stomach. She’d spent a little longer than usual reading her Bible this morning, and a verse from Psalm 130 had jumped out at her: “Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.”

That’s what God planned for His people. No matter what the difficulty or loss, whatever the sin or moral failing, full redemption was possible in Christ. It had been true for the town of Bloomington after the devastating tornado and true for the Baxter family time and time again. No matter what the health of her unborn baby, His redemption would be true for Ashley too.

She pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. Cemeteries were reflective and quiet and necessary. But so sad at the same time. She watched a middle-aged couple standing arm in arm near a tombstone marked by a small American flag. Had they lost a son or daughter in the war, or were they visiting the grave of a parent, a military veteran?

Ashley turned away and stepped out of her van. She walked slowly, taking several minutes to reach the bench near the graves of her mother and her infant daughter. She stooped to brush the dirt from the flat stone that covered Sarah’s grave. “Hold her close, God . . . please.” She stopped herself from asking that the baby inside her might not go through the same ordeal or that the child might be a girl. God knew these things, and there was no end to the prayers they were sending up on behalf of their baby. But here death was so real and present that Ashley could barely remember to breathe. Her voice was strained by the swell of sorrow inside her. “Hold my little girl. And tell Mom I miss her.”

The only answer was the verse again: “Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.”

Ashley stood and regarded her daughter’s tombstone a moment longer. For those who believed, there could be no place where the hope of salvation was felt more than at a cemetery. Christ died to redeem those who loved Him and so to promise an eternal life where His people would be reunited once more.

Therein lay the ultimate hope of redemption.

She moved a few steps to the left, bent down again, and brushed off the dirt from her mother’s stone. Her dad’s wedding plans were moving forward, the June date set. Elaine was wonderful; there was no denying that fact. Ashley agreed with her siblings that the marriage was the best possible option for their father. In some ways their relationship was another example of God’s unfailing love. The same way the picture of Landon with the boys at the base of the old oak tree was.

She stood and pressed her hand to the small of her back. She was definitely showing now, enough that her jeans no longer fit. Today she wore comfortable clothes she could paint in—knit pants and a button-down cotton shirt over a long-sleeved shirt. She gave a last look at the graves and then turned back to the van.

The sunny blue sky was proof that the tornado danger had passed. She slipped on her sunglasses as she pulled out of the cemetery parking lot. All the while she was consumed by the Scripture, by the truth and certainty of God’s redemption. If a theme had run through her life, that would be it. Not just for her but for the whole Baxter family.

Ashley was halfway to her dad’s house when another idea hit her. She took the next right and worked her way through a residential neighborhood until she arrived at the Sunset Hills Adult Care Home. How much time had passed since she’d been here, since she’d checked in on her old friends, if any of them were even still alive? She’d been busy with Devin and then dealing with the impending loss of Sarah, and life had gotten too busy for the sweet people at Sunset Hills.

She parked, and halfway up the walk, she noticed the window Irvel used to look out when she was watching for her forever love, Hank. Irvel had found redemption, no question about it. She had loved God and Hank until her dying day, and now . . . now the two of them were probably sitting on the bank of some heavenly river, basking in the glow of God’s love and light.

Ashley’s heart soared at the possibility. She reached the door and knocked quietly since it wasn’t quite lunchtime and the residents would probably be napping.

The door opened, and a pretty African-American woman smiled at her. “Can I help you?”

She doesn’t know me,
Ashley thought. She returned the smile. “I’m Ashley Baxter Blake. I used to work here.”

Immediately recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes. “Oh yes, I know who you are. I’m Myrna.” She held open the door and gestured for Ashley to come in. “Everyone’s asleep.”

“I figured.” When Ashley was inside, she shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I was driving past and I had to stop. Just to check on the old place.”

“Things are good.” Myrna’s expression held admiration. “The Past-Present theory is still being used. The results always impress the doctors.”

The news brought a lump to Ashley’s throat. How wonderful that the owners of Sunset Hills were intent on continuing the work Ashley had researched and started here, the idea that a person with Alzheimer’s responded best if allowed to live in the place of their past where they were most comfortable. Dear Irvel, whose husband, Hank, had been dead for years, had been happiest believing that Hank was merely out fishing with the boys.

Myrna pointed across the room, where two people were asleep in the reclining chairs. “There’s Bert. Remember him?”

“Of course!” Ashley kept her voice low. She took a few steps toward the sleeping patients. “What’s he doing out here? He . . . he never left his room except at the very end before I left and then only for meals.”

Myrna allowed a quiet laugh. “He’s Mr. Social now. Comes out at breakfast full of stories about his horses, and then he and Helen watch
The Price Is Right
.”

Ashley was overcome with joy. The legacy of what God had given her to do here lived on in the lives of people who otherwise might be anxious and distraught. She glanced toward the hallway. “Can I have a look at the rooms?”

“Sure.” Myrna waved her off. “I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ve got some baking to do.”

Ashley looked back at Bert and Helen. God’s faithfulness was evident here too. No wonder she’d felt the need to stop by this afternoon. She tiptoed out of the room and quietly walked down the hallway. The room where Irvel had slept held a new patient, of course. Someone Ashley hadn’t seen before.

Beyond it was Bert’s room. Ashley stopped in the doorway and there it was, the old saddle Ashley had bought him. It was still standing at the foot of his bed, and on top of it was a worn polishing rag. Clearly Bert was still shining his saddle, continuing to find purpose in doing the one thing that had defined him as a younger man. Ashley smiled even as tears blurred her vision. She blinked them back and peered into Helen’s room. The framed photo of her daughter, Sue, as a teenager still stood on the nightstand near her bed.

Ashley felt her heart brimming with joy. God had mended her heart in her time here at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, and He’d done something else. He’d taught her how to love again. The fact that her touch on the place remained was yet another gift from God.

She headed to the kitchen, and there in the dining room was the painting she’d done of Irvel, the one of the old woman sipping peppermint tea at this very table.

Ashley thanked Myrna and promised to stop back in sometime with her family. Then she left and this time drove without stopping. Along the way she passed a car being driven by Bailey Flanigan, and as the two waved at each other, Ashley noticed that Tim Reed was in her passenger seat.

Happiness hit her as she turned the opposite direction toward her father’s house.
Joseph
had been cast and was well into production. Katy and Dayne had never looked happier. Bailey was the lead narrator for the musical, and her brother Connor was Joseph. The Flanigan kids’ experience with CKT shone in every rehearsal so far. Already the creative team could tell the show was going to be something special. And not just the show but the friendships that were coming from it.

Tim was helping with the choreography, and though he was careful to keep his distance from Bailey during rehearsals, where he was in a leadership role, Ashley had a sense that the two were seeing each other away from CKT. Ashley smiled to herself. Tim was good for Bailey, the way Landon had been good for her. But Bailey was smarter than Ashley had been at that age. She would recognize the benefits of a guy like Tim and in the process spare herself the heartache Ashley had lived through.