Rejoice (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

The week was a blur of gold and silver moments, the type Ashley would remember as long as she lived. And that was a good thing, because this time after she said good-bye to Landon, memories would be all she had left. They’d have to last not just a month or a year.

But a lifetime.

They’d spent Christmas Day with her family, enjoying the reaction of the children as they opened their presents and taking part in a raucous game of Pictionary that evening. Landon gave her a book of famous Americana paintings, and she gave him a sweater from Saks.

After dinner, they’d been clearing dishes when they bumped into each other in the kitchen doorway. Landon had grinned and pointed above Ashley’s head. A sprig of mistletoe hung there. Ashley felt her cheeks grow hot. Her family had rarely seen signs of her relationship with Landon, and now . . . with permanent good-byes just around the corner, she hesitated about the wisdom of kissing him.

But only for a moment.

“It’s okay, Ash.” Something sad played in Landon’s eyes. “I know we’re not alone, but no one’s looking.”

“Landon, it’s not that. Just that—”

“Shhh.” He held a finger to her lips and leaned in.

Then with tender lips he kissed her, and the sensation left her breathless. The closeness of him, the way he’d lingered near her face, his breath against her cheek. All of it.

Ashley had swallowed hard as she moved back to the living room. When he sat next to her, she spoke close to his ear, so only he could hear what she was saying. “That kind of kiss makes me glad we’re not alone.”

He only smiled at her and said, “Me, too.”

On Friday they hit Chelsea Piers, Manhattan’s famous amusement park. Ashley rode the roller coaster with Landon and Cole six times before calling it quits. That evening the group caught a movie, and the next morning the others flew back to Bloomington.

The next three days passed in a blur of walks through Central Park, happy conversations about Cole and the people at Sunset Hills, and dinners at a handful of well-known cafes. They window-shopped on Fifth Avenue, skated under the lights in the park, and drank coffee in her hotel restaurant.

Before Ashley had time to calculate how quickly time was passing, it was Wednesday, New Year’s Eve. Until then, they’d avoided Landon’s apartment, and the plan had stayed the same since he’d talked to her at Luke and Reagan’s wedding. New Year’s Eve would be spent at Times Square, watching the sparkly ball drop slowly into the crowd at the stroke of midnight. Outside, where temptations would be minimal.

But without saying anything to Landon, Ashley could feel her resolve falling away a little more each hour. When it started raining sleet late Wednesday, they both knew it was time to talk about the backup plan. Ashley had been dying to go to his apartment, to be where he lived and slept and ate his meals, to relax on his sofa and feel—for even a day—that she still had a chance at forever with him.

With the change in weather, the decision was made. They would order in pizza, watch the ball drop on his TV, and spend their last night together without the distraction of crowds or parties or any other thing.

They ate dinner at his small kitchen table, and Ashley told him about Cole’s Halloween costume, the way he’d made such a stir at Sunset Hills.

“So there’s Helen, shouting that Cole’s a spaceman, and what does Irvel say?”

“What nice hair he has?” He bit into a piece of cheese pizza and grinned.

“No.” Ashley laughed. “That’s what she told me.”

“Okay, then . . .” Landon swallowed the bite and chuckled again. “What?”

“She says she thinks Helen’s gentleman caller is shrinking. You know, because Cole’s only four feet tall.”

Landon almost lost his food. “No.”

“Yes.” Ashley set her piece of pizza back on the plate. She hadn’t laughed this hard since before Hayley’s accident. “And Helen’s having a fit, shouting at people, flapping her arms like a bird.”

“She wants to visit the moon with Cole, right?”

“No.” The laughter came harder now. She could still picture the look on Helen’s face as the situation that morning went from bad to worse. “She says everyone needs a space helmet. If Cole gets one, everyone gets one.”

“Of course.” Landon wiped a napkin over his lips. “And what about Bert?”

“That’s the best part.” Ashley waited, catching her breath. “Bert shuffles in, sees Cole in his firefighter costume, and wants to know where the fire is.”

“I bet that was a hit.”

“Definitely. Next thing Helen’s pointing at the kitchen, convinced the sink’s on fire.”

“Poor Cole . . . probably wanted to run back to the car.” Landon ran the backs of his hands beneath his eyes, struggling to grab a mouthful of air between bouts of laughter.

“Not at all.” Ashley exhaled hard and again waited until she had more control. “He used his imaginary hose and put out the fire.”

“Of course.” Landon pretended to have a hose in his hand while he put out invisible flames in his own kitchen. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

They laughed a while longer, and one story blended into another. He told her about a few friends he’d met at work—Barry and John-John—both men in their early thirties, married with two children apiece.

“They find something funny at every call.” Landon was settling down, leaning back as his voice returned to normal. “I guess a little humor on the job helps.”

Ashley wasn’t sure. September 11 aside, fighting fires in New York City had always been a deadly venture. “Even when it’s dangerous?”

“Yes.” Landon’s lips came together in a straight line, his eyes deeper than they’d been in a while. “Especially when it’s dangerous.”

Conversation drifted to things at church, and Ashley shared that she was reading the Bible more with Irvel and Edith. “They don’t remember their names half the time, but still, hearing God’s Word brings them peace. A peace that doesn’t wipe them out the way drugs do but makes them feel almost normal again.”

The evening wore on. They finished the pizza and took seats next to each other on his leather sofa. Landon flipped on the television and hit the mute button. “No point hearing a bunch of commercials. When it’s closer to midnight I’ll turn it up.”

Closer to midnight.

The thought hit Ashley like a poison arrow and lodged somewhere above her heart. Midnight would come soon, and with it, the new year and the changes that would take them apart, probably forever. Midnight and an hour to tell Landon good-bye. She crossed her arms and stared at her lap.

He slid closer to her on the sofa, as though he’d noticed the change in her. He reached out and ran his fingers along her wrist and the tops of her hands. “Tell me.”

“Hmmm?” Her eyes lifted to his and she managed a smile.

“What’re you thinking?”

She shrugged. “About us—how my flight leaves in the morning. How different things’ll be next year.”

“It’s been a nice week.” He wrapped his fingers around hers and found her eyes. “Like something from a dream.”

“Yes.” She didn’t blink, didn’t want to lose a single second of the connection she felt to him. In some ways she had expected them to spend more time alone, kissing or holding each other. Instead they’d kept busy—sightseeing, shopping, skating. Drinking coffee and talking late into the night. For all the days they’d had together, this was the first time they’d really been alone.

His lips opened then, and his eyes pleaded with her. She understood. He wanted to ask her one more time, plead with her to see it his way, to give him the chance to love her, whatever it cost him. But she closed her eyes and gave the slightest shake of her head.
No, God, don’t let him talk about it now. I can’t take it. . . .

When she blinked open, the moment had passed. “A lot’s happened this year, Ash. Have you thought about it?”

“Not all at once, I guess.”

“Really?” He stretched and his leg brushed up against hers. Ashley wondered if he noticed, if the sensation of his straightened leg beside hers was causing him as much conflict as it was causing her. If it was, he didn’t let on. He looked straight ahead out the window at the dark sky and lit-up city. “I try to do that every year, think about the highs and lows, the changes, and how all of it’s helped me grow.” He looked at her again. “You know, taking stock, a chance to see how far I’ve come in the past twelve months.”

Ashley listened to him, and already the pain was taking root in her soul. How had she missed the beauty of this man all those years ago? She should never have gone to Paris, with Landon waiting in Bloomington. That way, the two of them would’ve married. Cole would be his, and she would be healthy.

“I thought about it last night.” He placed his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. His leg was still alongside hers. “Getting settled at the department, finding out about Reagan, seeing your paintings in the local art gallery.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “By now I thought we’d be finishing wedding plans of our own, but that was before your blood test.”

“My entire year can be summed up with that one phone call, the one telling me . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead she stared out the front window and allowed herself to imagine how different things would be if she’d gotten a negative result instead.

“Can I tell you something, Ash?” He angled his head so he could see her better. “The test didn’t change anything for me.” His eyes shone with a kind of love only he was capable of giving her. “You changed it.”

“Me?” She ran her tongue along the inside of her lip. “Not me, Landon. The test. Otherwise, I’d be wearing your ring now.”

“No, Ashley. It wasn’t the test. It was you—you not believing that sick or not, you’re all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”

The conversation was creeping dangerously close to areas that still needed to be off-limits. She crossed her arms and let her gaze fall to her lap again. “I’m sorry, Landon.” Her tone was little more than a whisper. “I pray that one day you’ll understand.”

“Ah, Ashley. I’m sorry.” He pulled one hand out from behind his head and looped it around her shoulders. His tone was kindness and resignation. “I understand
now
. I just never want you to walk away thinking I was afraid of a blood test. This . . . what we have . . . it’s stronger than that.”

Their eyes locked, and slowly, deliberately, like a dance step that had been building since Reagan and Luke’s wedding, the two of them came together in an embrace that needed no words.

It was fifteen minutes before midnight, the time when they’d agreed to turn up the volume and watch the ball drop over a wet and icy Times Square. But in all the world, Ashley could think of nothing but the way she felt in Landon Blake’s arms, the way she would ache for his hug all the days of her life.

The way whatever time they shared now would have to last them a lifetime.

In movements too small to measure, his lips found hers. They hadn’t kissed since Christmas Day under the mistletoe, but here, on New Year’s Eve, neither of them had doubted for a minute that they would find their way back to this place, to the passion of coming together and kissing the way they’d wanted to all week.

Landon’s hands found her face, and his fingers wove their way into her hairline. “Ashley . . .”

Her name was all she needed to hear. She knew him well enough, heard in his tone the things he wasn’t saying. That he had been honest a moment earlier, that he loved her and wanted her and couldn’t bear the thought of what the morning would bring.

“I know, Landon.” Tears stung at her eyes as she tilted her head back, savoring his trail of kisses along her jaw, her cheekbone, the soft area near her ear. “I know.”

In the time since she’d told him the truth about Paris, the two of them had crossed the sea of desire into dangerous waters only a handful of times. Always at this point—at the place where kissing was simply not enough, where their bodies shared a craving that could be satisfied only one way—common sense would prevail and someone would pull back.

But tonight, more was at stake than ever before. Because tonight was the ending of a year, more than that, the ending of an era. Tonight a page would turn and a new chapter would begin, one that would send them so far in separate directions, a night like this one wasn’t only unlikely.

It was impossible.

And because of that, Ashley couldn’t bring herself to stop.

She slid closer to Landon, kissing him on his lips and his face, moving her mouth lightly down his neck even after she heard him moan from somewhere deep within. “Landon . . . I love you.” For a moment she drew back and found his eyes, saw the passion there, and in the distance she saw the two-minute countdown clock in the corner of the television screen.

1:05 . . . 1:04 . . . 1:03 . . .

He moved his lips over hers, kissing her even as he followed her gaze. “Hey . . . one minute.” Landon eased himself from her, stretched, and spread a feather blanket on the floor. He tossed a pillow toward the top, just in front of the TV. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “Let’s watch it.”

Ashley looked at the screen, the sound still muted. Fifty seconds. All that was left of the old year, the old Ashley Baxter, was less than a minute. Landon reached for the remote control, the desire of a moment earlier on hold but hardly forgotten. He clicked the Sound button and suddenly the room filled with the sounds Ashley expected to hear on New Year’s Eve.

Hooting, hollering, shouting people, arms raised, faces lit with smiles and laughter; Dick Clark explaining in that unique voice of his that, yes indeed, another year had passed them by; and in the background a band playing “Auld Lang Syne”—all as the ball lowered the rest of the way over Times Square.

Ashley sang the words quietly to herself:
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? .
. .
”

Landon stretched out on his stomach, his eyes on the screen, hand still tucked in hers. And she sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, her knee up against his ribs. The counter on the screen slipped to :10 . . . :09 . . . :08 . . .