Sunset: 4 (Sunrise) (13 page)

“That’s all.” The cry returned to Cami’s voice. “They haven’t heard from them in three days.”

Jim walked through the front door and saw Jenny standing at the far corner of the office. He hurried to her side. “What happened?” he mouthed.

She covered the receiver. “Cody . . . he’s missing. . . .”

“Jenny, I don’t know what to do.” Cami’s fear verged on panic.

A million possibilities raced through Jenny’s mind. “Pray.” She shielded her eyes and leaned her forehead against Jim’s chest. “God knows where Cody is. They’ll find him. We have to believe that.”

Before Jenny hung up the phone, she prayed with Cami and reiterated that Cody’s superiors were probably looking for the missing men even at this very moment. “We’re here if you need us. Any hour—I mean it.”

The call ended, and Jenny set the receiver back on the base. Then she turned to Jim, and for a few seconds they stared at each other. She could see in his expression a reflection of her own. Jim took her hands in his, never breaking eye contact.

Jenny told him what she knew, but before she was finished, Bailey and Connor appeared at the office door. Bailey’s face was pale, her mouth open just enough that Jenny had no doubt her daughter had heard at least some of the conversation. Suddenly the scene was like a flashback to when they found Cody in their guest room, unconscious from alcohol poisoning.

Back then they hadn’t known if he would live or die, but they were determined to do what they could to help him. This time that wasn’t possible. Cody wasn’t within reach, where they could find him and take him for help.

He was lost in a raging war halfway around the world.

Bailey had heard her mother answer the phone, and she turned down the music, just in case the call was for her. When she heard it was Cody’s mother, she moved to the edge of the room and listened more carefully. That’s when her mom asked about whether Cody was hurt.

All along she’d known Cody was in danger, driving through the streets of Iraq and constantly dodging death traps or roadside bombs. She heard the concern in the lines of his letters and e-mails, and she was more aware when news reports talked about casualties of the war. But as the phone conversation continued, Bailey realized a truth she’d been denying since the day Cody left.

He really might never come back.

Her mind went numb, and her legs felt weak and wobbly.

Connor had obviously heard too because he came to her and whispered, “Cody’s mother?”

Bailey nodded and put a finger to her lips.

By the time the call ended and Bailey and Connor walked into the office, she understood most of what had happened. Cody was missing; the rest was just details. She went to her parents, and the three of them hugged for a long time. “They’ll look for him, right? I mean, they have to find him.” She peered up at her dad. “Isn’t that what happens?”

Bailey had seen her dad look truly scared only a few times—when their family learned that Ricky had to have heart surgery and when Cody was knocked out on the floor after drinking. But no question her dad was afraid now. He swallowed and looked at Bailey’s mother, then back at her. “When a soldier is missing . . . he isn’t always found.”

“They call them MIA.” Her mom’s voice was shaky. “It means missing in action.”

Connor stood a few feet away. “Should we . . . can we call someone? the governor or something?”

Bailey glanced at her parents, but their faces told her they couldn’t call an official or write the president for that matter.

Connor leaned against the wall and hung his head.

Guilt surrounded Bailey like a winter fog. She’d been hanging out with Tim lately, and she’d even mentioned it in one of her last letters to Cody. She cared for Cody, of course. But her feelings for Tim had grown stronger, and she wanted to be honest about that. What would Cody care, anyway? He didn’t have those sort of feelings for her, right? He was the one who’d always told her to date someone like Tim, someone she would have more in common with. But she still felt confused once in a while. After all, not a day went by when she didn’t think of Cody.

Bailey bit her lip. “Did . . . did she say anything else?” She moved away from her parents and folded her arms. “Did his last letter say anything new?”

Another layer of sadness colored her mom’s eyes. “Just that he’s thinking of moving to the West Coast when he gets back.”

“What?” Bailey felt her heart react to the news. Cody hadn’t mentioned living in California since he was in high school. “Why there?” She tried not to let her feelings for him creep into her voice. “Why not here?”

“I don’t know.” Her mom’s voice filled with tears. “First . . . they have to find him.”

“Come on, guys.” Her dad held out his arms. “Let’s pray for him.”

The four of them looped their arms around each other’s shoulders. In the tight circle, the numbness began to wear off, and in its place Bailey’s heart hurt. “I’ll start.” Her throat felt tight. “Dear God, You know exactly where Cody is right this second. So please, Lord, protect him from anything bad. If he’s—” Her voice broke. “If he’s scared, please give him peace.” She could manage only a strained whisper as she finished. “We can’t lose him, God. Please.”

Connor prayed and then their mom. By the time Dad finished up, Bailey wasn’t the only one crying. They held on to each other for a little while; then Bailey hurried out of the office and up the stairs to her room. How could she let herself fall for Tim when Cody was in Iraq fighting for the country, for freedom from terrorists?

Her freedom.

Bailey flung herself on her bed and reached beneath it for the box of letters she kept there. As she opened the most recent one, her tears were so strong she couldn’t see the words, so she folded it and placed it back in the box. She buried her face in her pillow and let herself cry.
Please, God. Please let him be okay.

She heard no response, but then she didn’t really expect one. Not right here in the quiet of her room. The answer she wanted wouldn’t come until the phone rang with the news that Cody was found unharmed. Maybe they’d let him come home early because of the ordeal. But what if . . . ?

Bailey felt sick, and she rolled onto her side.
I can’t lose him
. She remembered how it felt talking to him late into the night last July and walking beside him through the trees behind her family’s house. The look in his eyes when he told her good-bye. An image came to her mind: Cody being found and coming home only to leave for the West Coast. Another wave of tears came over her, and she realized that as terrible and selfish as it was, she wasn’t crying only because Cody was missing.

She was crying because they’d both moved on. The bond shared back then was gone forever, and there was no way back to last summer.

Whether Cody was found or not.

Every family dinner at the Baxter house had a different feel to it these days. A sense of finality. John and the others rarely talked about the fact, but the sense remained anyway. Their days in the old farmhouse where the kids had grown up were numbered.

It was the last Sunday in March, and another tornado watch had passed over earlier today. So far no twisters had touched down, and forecasters were saying the rest of the spring figured to be less volatile. John was glad. There was enough going on in the family without the concern of a tornado hitting town again.

John had cooked up barbecued spareribs, and now he picked the last one off the grill and placed it on the heap with the others. He grabbed both sides of the metal tray, carried it inside, and set it on the kitchen counter.

In the next room the adults were rounding up the children. Tommy and Malin weren’t here because Luke was by himself tonight. Apparently Reagan wanted time alone with the kids. The family had tried to talk to Luke, and Kari had made a few phone calls to Reagan, but their marriage was still in deep trouble. What with that and the pregnancies of Katy and Ashley, between the sale of the house and his impending marriage to Elaine, John spent much of his alone time on his knees.

Brooke stepped into the kitchen. “Need a hand?”

“Thanks.” John pointed to the cupboard. “Can you get the plates?”

“Sure.” She took down a stack of dishes and grabbed a handful of forks. “Did I tell you about Hayley?”

“No.” He braced himself. His granddaughter had hit a few speed bumps lately on her long road to recovering from her near drowning a few years ago. Her reading progress had stalled, and the school’s learning specialist had diagnosed her as dyslexic. “She’s not worse?”

“Not at all.” Brooke’s eyes danced. “They’re trying a new reading technique on her, and in just a week they’re seeing progress! Even with her dyslexia.”

In a heartbeat, John was back in the hospital with Brooke and Peter after Hayley’s accident. No one had expected her to pull through, and if she did, it seemed clear she might spend the rest of her days blind and brain damaged. In what was a low point in his journey of faith, John had asked God to simply take her home. He hadn’t prayed for a miracle or asked the Lord for the impossible. Then over time Hayley made a series of unbelievable turns for the better. This was one more.

John hugged Brooke. “That’s wonderful, honey.”

“I know.” Brooke pulled away and reached for a stack of napkins. “I think God has a few more surprises in store for us in the months ahead.” She grinned. “I’ll keep you posted.”

They called for help, and working as a team they moved the dinner and dishes to the dining room table. Elaine poured ice water into the paper cups. “I love that Sunday dinners aren’t too formal.”

Ryan Junior walked along at her side. “What’s
formal
, Grandma?”

Mixed emotions welled in John’s heart at RJ’s use of the term. Lately the young kids had taken to calling Elaine by the name that once belonged to Elizabeth, and John was grateful. After all, she was about to be their grandmother, no question. But at this point it still felt bittersweet.

“Huh?” RJ hovered near Elaine’s arm. “Tell me what
formal
is.”

Maddie stepped between RJ and Elaine and put her hands on her hips. She gave her younger cousin a slightly condescending look. “It means nice china plates and cups and very serious manners.” She shared a smile with Elaine. “I like that Sunday dinners aren’t formal too.” She cut in front of RJ and grinned. “I’m sitting by Elaine.”

John and Elaine exchanged a smile, and after everyone was seated, John prayed. As soon as he said, “Amen,” four different conversations broke out. Ashley and Katy were sitting by each other, talking about their pregnancies and laughing about Katy’s craving for fried mushrooms and plain yogurt.

At the other end of the table Cole was pointing to his spareribs, explaining to Devin and RJ that “Pigs have ribs too, so that’s what we’re eating tonight. Pigs’ ribs.”

Elaine covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Craziness.” John spoke low near her. “Wild, happy craziness.”

“It’s wonderful.” She passed the platter to Peter, who served Maddie and himself, then passed it on.

John was waiting for the salad when Kari caught his attention. She looked more tired than usual, and he wondered if she’d been sick. In a rush he remembered that tonight was when he had planned to pull her aside and tell her about Angela Manning. If she wanted to step in and help, then so be it. If the idea was too much for her, then she could simply know that the woman was struggling deeply, and she could join him in praying for her.

But now . . . John doubted himself. Maybe Kari was better off never hearing about her again, never having to go back even for a few hours to that terrible time in her life.

The dinner played out, the conversations happy and loud around the table. Brooke waited for a break to announce that she had looked in on a very special little baby at the hospital a few days ago.

“Her mother was a struggling college girl. She was going to have an abortion.” Brooke looked straight at Ashley. “But she came to Sarah’s Door instead.”

The look on Ashley’s face told everything she was feeling. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, clearly moved. Then she took hold of Landon’s arm and pressed her forehead into his bicep. For a few seconds no one laughed or rejoiced or even dared to speak. It was a sacred moment, and everyone at the table seemed to understand. Because of Ashley and Landon’s heartache from Sarah’s brief life, a baby had been saved. When Ashley looked back at the others, her eyes were damp. But they were also shining with joy.

Cole glanced from his mother to Brooke and back again. “That’s because of Sarah, right? Because of that place you put together with Sarah’s name on it?”

“Yes!” Ashley laughed, and even though the sound held a hint of sorrow, the others silently rejoiced with her, the looks in their eyes proof that they too were celebrating the newborn who had been spared because of Sarah’s brief life.

The night was full, and by the time the adults started getting the kids’ coats on and saying their good-byes, John still wasn’t sure whether he should tell Kari. He was waffling with the idea when she found him in the entryway, where he was helping Hayley with her pink jacket.

She touched his elbow. “Can I talk to you?”

John’s heart skipped a beat as he straightened, puzzled. Sometimes God took the guesswork out of what he was supposed to do next. This seemed like one of those times.

Kari needed reassurance. Ever since hearing about Ashley’s pregnancy, she’d been worried sick that her sister’s newest baby might also have anencephaly. The thought kept her awake at night, and for the past week she hadn’t slept well. She kept remembering little Sarah and the heartbreak of that day. Her fears were so strong that she finally shared them with Ryan but only with him. As if by telling her dad or Brooke or any of the others, she might somehow make the possibility more real. Her fears, combined with the fact that Annie was eight months old and teething, meant Kari was up off and on throughout the night. The combination was leaving her exhausted.

Ryan had prayed with her every day and reminded her that the Bible advised not to be anxious about anything. The reminder sent Kari back to Philippians chapter 4—a section of her Bible she’d worn out back in the days when her first husband left home. Reading about the peace that passed all understanding helped, and next week she planned to start with the Scripture before turning in at night. Even still, yesterday she’d googled the possibilities of a repeat incidence of anencephaly and she’d found conflicting reports, nothing that would help her sleep better.

After Kari shared the results of her Internet search with Ryan, he’d come up with the only idea that made sense. “Talk to your dad. He’s probably thinking about it too.”

So Kari had determined that she’d find her father alone for a minute or two and ask him his thoughts on whether Ashley was at risk again. Ryan had taken the kids out to the car, and when Kari and her dad were far enough away from the others that no one could hear her, she turned to him. “I didn’t want to talk about this, but Ryan said I should.”

Her dad looked concerned. “About what?”

“Ashley. Her pregnancy.” Kari felt a chill pass over her arms, and she ran her fingers over the goose bumps. “I’m so worried. I looked on the Internet and tried to find the odds of having two babies with anencephaly. But every Web site says something different.” She paused, searching his eyes. “So what is it?”

For a beat, her dad looked a little stunned, as if her question truly surprised him. Then he pulled her into his arms. “Honey . . .” He released her and studied her face. “Is that why you look so tired?”

Kari stared at her feet, and a sigh came from her throat. “Yes.” She lifted her eyes. “I’m scared to death for her. Ryan thought you might know the odds.”

“I can give you the medical answer.” He took hold of her hands. “Research shows the chance of recurrence to be as high as 5 percent.”

“One in twenty?” The panic nagging at her a little more every day instantly doubled. “That’s higher than I thought, so how in the world is Ashley handling this when—?”

“But with God the odds are a hundred percent.” Her dad’s tone was kind but firm.

“What?” Kari wanted so badly for this baby to be healthy for Ashley. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Listen . . . what I’m saying is with God the odds are a hundred percent that this baby will turn out exactly the way He planned.” He gave her a sad hint of a smile. “Just like Sarah.”

A gradual dawning came over her. Why hadn’t she thought of it that way? All her life she’d struggled with worry and often for good reason. A verse she’d memorized as a teenager came to mind. “‘Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?’” She smiled at her dad. “Is that what you mean?”

“Exactly.” The seriousness stayed in her dad’s expression. “Obviously it’s a scary situation for all of us. None of us wants Ashley and Landon to go through that again.” He gave her one more hug. “Ultimately, though, it’s up to the Lord.”

Kari felt the truth working its way through her, leveling her nerves and reminding her of a number of verses all underlining her father’s wisdom. The goose bumps faded, and she took a deep breath. “I still need you, Dad.”

“I’m glad.” His eyes grew more concerned. “There’s something I need to talk to you about too.”

This time Kari resisted her tendency to immediately assume something was wrong. She gave him her full attention. “Yes?”

He hesitated, clearly wrestling with whatever he had to say. “When I was at the hospital the other day, I visited with a young woman who had tried to kill herself.”

“How sad.” Kari wasn’t sure why her dad wanted her to know, but she felt for the woman, so distraught that she didn’t feel life was worth living.

Her dad took a step closer. “The woman was Angela Manning.”

The name caught her by surprise. Her mind raced, leaving her breathless. “Angela? Tim’s Angela?”

“Yes.” He took her hands again, lending her his strength. “She looks terrible. Whatever demons she’s battling, she’s losing.” He went on to say that Angela was being sent to the Christian inpatient facility he had recommended, and she was open to having visitors from their church’s women’s ministry. “Anyone could go talk to her, but I thought I’d tell you in case . . .”

Kari sucked in a breath. A replay of the images of that time in her life was flashing across her heart, making it hard to think clearly. But in that instant she knew exactly what her father had in mind. That maybe the visit should come from her. “Wow.” She felt the chill on her arms again. “I don’t know.” She tried to imagine the possibility. “I . . . I guess I need to talk to God . . . and Ryan.”

“I’m not asking you to see her. I just thought you should know.”

“Okay.” She nodded, still trying to comprehend the news. “I’m glad you told me.”

They talked a few more minutes, and then Kari joined Ryan and the kids in the car. She was quiet on the way home, sorting through the various aspects of the idea. Kari had wondered now and then what had happened to Angela Manning and what it would be like if they ran into each other at the market or the library or downtown at one of the boutiques near the university. Over time, Kari convinced herself that Angela must’ve moved as far as she could possibly get from Bloomington. But now she knew the truth. Angela was still here and struggling so much under the weight of her choices that she no longer wanted to live.