Found (13 page)

She brought her hands to his face and framed it. “Landon, honey … nothing’s going to go wrong.” She leaned up, kissed him, and flashed a quick grin. “I’ve done this before, remember?”

“I know.” He exhaled, as if he’d been holding in this secret for too long and now he was relieved it was out. “But 1 haven’t.”

She didn’t say anything to that. But she kissed him again, longer this time. She wasn’t worried at all, not even a little. Still, neither of them could make promises about the future. Everything about their relationship had taught them that much. And she understood what he meant, how he was feeling. Everything about life as they’d known it was about to change. Cole would have to share their attention with his new sister or brother, and no matter what they intended, there would be days when they didn’t have time for each other-not enough time, anyway.

Landon seemed to read her thoughts. He ran one finger along her cheekbone. “You know what I picture?”

“What?”

“Bringing the kids over here and taking a walk just like this one. A couple times a week if that’s what it takes.”

“If that’s what it takes for what?” She gave him a teasing look, the kind she always gave him when they were playing with each other this way.

“To make sure you never forget how much …”-He took her face in his hands and kissed her long and slow. When he pulled back, the love in his expression was so pure and real and deep it took her breath away. “How much I love you, Ashley.”

In that moment, she could almost feel God answering a prayer she’d whispered years earlier. It had been a time when she was 97

sitting beside a sick Irvel at Sunset Hills. Irvel had been the most gracious woman Ashley had ever known-apart from her own mother. Though Irvel’s husband, Hank, had been dead for nearly a decade, she lived in a world where he was still alive. Just gone for the afternoon, fishing with the boys, she’d say.

The way Irvel adored Hank, the way his love had carried Irvel through long after he was gone, that was the sort of love Ashley had longed for-a sort of love she hadn’t even been sure existed. So that night she had prayed about it, asking God that if a love like that existed, could He please move mountains so she could experience it?

And now here they were, and Ashley could see for herself that the love Irvel and Hank shared did indeed exist.

Because it existed in the person of Landon Blake.

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John Baxter had been restless all night.

It wasn’t his style to lie to his daughter. Lying went against everything he believed in, and from the moment he did so, he replayed the conversation in his head looking for how he might’ve avoided being dishonest. Every time he came up with the same answer. There hadn’t been any way around it.

Now that he knew the truth about his son’s identity, he was doing everything he could to make contact with him. He’d left three messages with Dayne’s agent, and still no one had called him back. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to tell Ashley what he’d found, but rather he wanted to give her a complete picture.

Because by his actions, Dayne had made it clear that he might not want anything to do with them. If that was the case, fine. John needed to know as much, and then he could tell Ashley the whole truth. Together they could figure out how to tell the others. It was one thing to spring the news on them that they had a biological older brother. But the idea that he had rejected them would make the conversation almost impossible.

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That was the reason he couldn’t tell Ashley-not yet. He didn’t want to mar her thinking about Dayne if maybe the reason he hadn’t made contact was because he didn’t know what to say, or if the silence from his agent was unintentional.

Once Ashley had an inkling that her older brother was famous and might be avoiding them, she would be angry at him before another step could be taken.

In his quiet time with the Lord, John continued to hear the same thing. The verse from Matthew: With God all things are possible. For that reason, he held out hope. Maybe Dayne’s agent was swamped with messages. Maybe he was unable to get word to Dayne. Maybe he’d tried to return John’s call and gotten the numbers wrong.

There were a dozen reasons John could imagine for the man not calling him back.

But the more time that passed, the harder it was to imagine a single one of them being true. And now with Ashley asking about her older brother every time they were together, it was especially hard. If he didn’t hear from Dayne’s agent soon, he’d have to tell Ashley what he knew-even if the details left her jaded.

He was working on the fish pond this afternoon, clearing dead weeds from between the rocks and making a small embankment out of pebbles, a place where Cole and Maddie could get closer to the water without climbing over the bigger boulders that circled the water. He could hardly wait to see Cole’s reaction to the changes.

The little landing area was clear of dirt and rocks, so John walked toward the garage for the wheelbarrow of pebbles. In his back pocket was his cell phone.

Just in case this ^as the hour Dayne or his agent chose to call. He squinted in the sunlight, glad that the day was in the fifties, as it had been off and on all week. Unusual for an Indiana February.

It was the sort of day that made him miss Elizabeth more than usual. Even if earlier this morning he’d spent a few hours with 101

Elaine Denning. They’d met at a coffeehouse near the university because he was desperate to talk about Dayne. Until now, he’d kept the news of his identity to himself-thinking it wasn’t right for anyone but his children to know what he’d found. But in light of the silence from Dayne’s camp, he needed to tell someone.

Elaine, very simply, was the only one who knew about his secret firstborn son but who wasn’t emotionally involved.

As he wheeled the pebbles across the driveway and over to the pond, he replayed his earlier conversation with Elaine… .

They’d taken a corner table, a little ways from the traffic near the counter.

When they were both seated with their coffees, he breathed in deeply. “I found him.”

Elaine looked confused at first. “You found who?” Something in his eyes must’ve clued her in, because she didn’t wait for his answer. Her tone changed, soft and incredulous. “You found … your older son?”

John nodded. “It’s … it’s very complicated.” Whenever he thought about Dayne, he choked up. He massaged his throat. No question the conversation would be difficult. When he could find the words, he looked straight at her, to the place in her heart he knew would understand. “He’s an actor, Elaine. A very famous actor.”

She searched his face. “Have I heard of him?”

A sad chuckle filled the space between them. “The whole world’s heard of him.”

“Okay, it’s killing me.” Her words were slow, laced with shock. “Who is he?”

John glanced over his shoulder, as if someone might be listening. “Dayne Matthews.” He leaned back in his chair, feeling the surprise again himself. “It doesn’t even sound real saying it. Not yet, anyway.”

“Are you serious?” Elaine dropped her voice a notch. “Dayne Matthews is your biological son?”

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“Yes.” John warmed his fingers against his coffee cup, letting the information sink in for both of them.

“No wonder he looks like Luke.”

“Exactly.” John gazed out the window. The reality was too new. He still had no real way to put his feelings into words. “The investigator 1 hired was good. He found out more than I could’ve dreamed.”

Elaine didn’t blink. She took a sip of her coffee, waiting for whatever was coming.

“Dayne’s been to Bloomington at least twice. The second time was when he was here to film his movie.”

Elaine appeared mesmerized, the truth starting to seep into her consciousness.

“We were at the farmers’ market, and we walked up, stood along the rope for a few minutes, and watched him.”

“Yes.” John uttered a frustrated sound. “I was twenty feet from my firstborn son, and I didn’t know it.”

Elaine took another sip. “But he was here before that? For what? To scout locations?” .

“I don’t think so.” John’s heart seemed to double in weight. “The investigator thinks he hired a PI of his own, and he was here in Bloomington because he had figured out who we wer&- who his birth parents were.” He narrowed his eyes. “His first visit took place the day before Elizabeth died.”

A soft gasp slipped from Elaine’s lips. “Elizabeth thought she’d met your son, that he’d been into the hospital room and talked with her for an hour, right?”

“Exactly.” John brought his drink to his lips and took a long swig. “I can’t prove it really happened, but if Dayne ^as here…”

Elaine sat up straighter. “Then Elizabeth’s prayer was answered.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“Okay, so what’s so complicated about that?” She angled her head. “He’s famous, but he’s still your son. If he went out of his 103

way to be with Elizabeth before she died, then he can’t be that bad.”

“Elaine …” John’s tone grew as heavy as his heart. “He was here in Bloomington twice. But not once did he call or try to make contact with any of us other than Elizabeth. If he did indeed meet her.”

“Oh.” Elaine’s expression fell. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I’ve left three messages with his agent and heard nothing back.” He lifted his hands and let them fall to the table. “What am I supposed to think except that Dayne isn’t interested in meeting us? that maybe he can’t be bothered or he’s afraid we’ll want something from him because of his fame?”

“I see.” Elaine put her elbows on the table and thought for a moment. “It is complicated.”

“Last night we were planning the Baxter reunion, and Ashley starts out the evening-before anyone else arrived-by asking me about her older brother, what I’ve found out and how come the private investigator isn’t working harder or faster.” He shook his head. “I lied to her, Elaine. What am I going to say, ‘Your older brother is Dayne Matthews, but don’t think about it too long because he doesn’t want to meet us’?”

“That would come across wrong.”

“Which is why I lied to her. I told her I didn’t know anything yet, because I’m waiting. I need to hear for myself whether Dayne wants contact with us.” He took another long drink of his coffee. The frustration felt good, better than the sorrow that usually came over him when he thought about Dayne. He exhaled hard.

“What should I do?”

Elaine didn’t answer fast. Her patience was one of the many things John liked about her. She was thoughtful, careful, allowing a lifetime of experience and faith to lend credibility to her answers.

Finally she reached out and patted his hand. “We need to pray. Here-” she looked around-“now. Before another min

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ute goes by. We need to beg God for contact of some kind so you’ll know. And in the meantime, you have to keep calling.”

The sorrow was back, pushing his frustration aside. He let his eyes linger on Elaine’s a few moments longer. Then he bowed his head and prayed. Quietly but with a sincerity that came from the depths of his soul, he asked God to allow him contact with either Dayne or his agent and to allow it soon.

“I can’t make this happen on my own, Lord. But 1 believe You’ve brought me this far for a reason. So please … please let me know if 1 can pursue this further.” He swallowed and felt his chin quiver. His voice was shakier than before. “If Dayne doesn’t want to know us, God, then could You maybe change his mind? Even just once? There’s so much …” His voice cracked. He waited until he had his composure back. “There’s so much I want to talk to him about. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The memory of his prayer from earlier today faded. John dumped the wheelbarrow full of pebbles, then stared into the pond. But before he could whisper another prayer, before he could ask God to open the lines of communication between him and his older son, the phone in his back pocket rang.

Probably Ashley, wondering when his project would be finished so she could bring Cole by. Of his daughters she was the best at keeping contact, staying close, and he appreciated her for it. If Landon was at work, Ashley and Cole visited often. He had no hard feelings about what she’d done last fall when she found the letter marked Firstborn in his bedroom and took it home with the intention of giving it to Brooke. He had been hurt by her decision to open it and read it, thereby learning the secret about her older brother. But things between his daughter and him were long since patched up.

He pulled the phone from his pocket, flipped it open, and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello … is this John Baxter?” The connection wasn’t great, but the man’s hesitation was clear.

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“Yes.” John straightened and winced at the way his back hurt from’bending over.

“This is he.”

The man sounded anxious. “Uh … I’m Chris Kane, agent for Dayne Matthews. I believe you’ve left me a few messages.”

John’s heart flipped into double time. An airplane was passing overhead, and he covered his other ear so he could hear. “Yes.” John’s mind raced. Where could he start? The details were so sensitive that he hadn’t explained the situation in his message. He’d only mentioned that he was a relative looking to get in touch with Dayne.

He walked slowly back toward the house, begging God for the right words. “Has Dayne told you that he was adopted? that the missionaries who raised him weren’t his biological parents?”

“Yes.” Something in the agent’s tone changed. “I was aware that Dayne hired a private investigator nearly two years ago, and he had some family issues he wanted to look into. Since then, yes. He told me that he was adopted.”

John reached the front porch. “Well, recently I hired a PI of my own, so I could find the identity of my firstborn son, a son my wife and I were forced to give up for adoption.” He climbed the stairs and sat down on the swing. “I guess there’s really no other way to say this.” He paused. “I’m Dayne’s biological father.”

For a moment, the man on the other end said nothing. “Dayne knows about you, Mr.

Baxter.”

“He does?” John couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but listen to every detail, every syllable.