Summer (26 page)

“No.” Frustration colored the woman’s expression. She looked like she might say something about how Ashley should’ve come in sooner or how accepting the truth earlier might’ve helped them get through this ordeal. But instead she studied Ashley’s chart and gave a sad shake of her head. “A C-section might help your baby live longer. A few hours, maybe a day at the most.”

“Fine.” Ashley sat up straighter. “Then let’s schedule the C-section.”

Dr. McDaniel looked at her computer screen. “Your due date’s roughly the third week of August. I’d like to deliver you earlier than that. So we don’t run into any issues with labor. Labor can be very hard on a baby with anencephaly.” She paused. “How about Wednesday, August 9?”

“Fine.” Ashley couldn’t wait to get out of the office. Every minute here was a minute wasted, a minute when she and Landon and Cole and Devin and Sarah were robbed of being the family they were today. While Sarah was still active and alive.

The meeting wrapped up, and Ashley stopped listening to the details. Landon was listening. That was enough.

They were halfway to the van when it all hit her. She stopped and turned to Landon. She felt dizzy and breathless, black spots circling in front of her eyes. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t move forward another step.

Landon must’ve known she was going to pass out, because he put his arm around her and helped her to a grove of trees at the middle of the parking lot.

A bench sat between the trees, and Landon carefully lowered her there. “We’ll get through this, Ash. We will.” He stroked her hair and kissed her face.

There, with the sun streaming through the trees and the fresh air filling her lungs, Ashley let the realization sink in. As it did, her tears came all at once, rivers of them. She couldn’t get the date out of her mind—Wednesday, August 9. If this were any other pregnancy, she’d be counting down the days and hours, waiting for her due date. A little more than a month.

“Landon . . . I need more time.”

“I know, baby.”

This wouldn’t be a countdown to her baby’s new life, and that was what seized her with fear and anger and outrage. It would be a countdown to her baby’s death. The sobs ripped at her, shook her to her core, and she placed her hands on either side of Landon’s face. “How?” She felt her face twist into a mass of grief. “How could God let this happen?”

She hoped Landon might have an answer. He always had an answer. When she was running from him all those years ago, when the questions were too great for her to deal with, he had sought her out and told her the truth. One answer after another. But here, there was only the sound of the distant traffic and the breeze in the trees above them. The question hung there, screaming at them. Why would God allow it? Why give them a little girl who would die almost as soon as she was born? And Ashley understood the silence between them.

Because for the first time, even Landon couldn’t think of an answer.

Landon became the front man. He broke the news to Kari when they picked up Devin, leaving Ashley to sit in the van.

Kari put her fingers to her mouth, and tears filled her eyes. “No . . . Landon, no. It can’t be.”

Landon was in a hurry to leave. “We’ll need some time.” He hugged Kari and hoisted Devin onto his hip. He grabbed the diaper bag on the floor near the door. He felt nauseous, unable to make any sort of small talk.

“Landon, I’m so sorry.” Kari’s hand went to her own round belly, and she shook her head. “Tell Ashley I’ll be praying.”

Landon nodded, but deep inside he wanted to say not to bother. It was too late for prayers. His faith—the faith that had stayed strong through nearly losing Ashley and through his ordeal at Ground Zero—was suddenly very tired. His knees shook as he stopped in the doorway. “Thanks, Kari. We’ll be in touch.”

That afternoon, when Ashley was cuddled up with Devin watching SpongeBob SquarePants and waiting for Cole to come home, Landon made the only call he had the energy to make. The call to Ashley’s father.

“The baby has anencephaly.” Landon sat at the kitchen table and massaged his temples with his free hand. “The tests are conclusive.”

“I talked to Kari.” John sounded weary too. Beaten down by the impossibility of anything good coming from this situation. “I’ll tell the others.”

“Thanks.” His chest hurt from the sadness inside him. “If you could, ask everyone to give us a few days. I think we’re going to need it. We still have to tell Cole.”

John agreed, and before they hung up, he hesitated. “God’s still in control.”

A long breath filtered through Landon’s lips. “In my head I know that. But . . . I don’t know. I’m struggling with this one.”

Silence filled the phone line. “I’ll be honest with you, Landon.” John’s voice was thick with sorrow. “I am too.”

Landon had barely ended the call when he heard Cole walk through the front door. Their neighbor had two kids at Cole’s elementary school, and earlier that year they’d worked out a deal for summer school. Every other week they took turns bringing all the kids home. Landon was glad this wasn’t their week.

Cole’s backpack hit the floor. “I aced it! I really aced it!”

Ashley didn’t want to tell Cole about the baby, not yet. Landon didn’t blame her. What would it hurt going through a few more days pretending everything was fine?

Landon pulled himself up from the table and moved into the family room.

Cole was dancing around in front of Ashley, grinning. “Dad!” He raced over to him and waved a piece of paper in the air. “A hundred percent! Can you believe it? I only missed one out of fifty words.”

Landon smiled and held out his arms. This wasn’t the time to correct him about his percentages. “Come here.” He swung him up and around a few times and then set him back down. “I knew you could do it!” Sadness didn’t stand a chance in the sunlight of Cole’s smile.

“You must’ve prayed for me.” He studied his test and pointed at a word halfway down the list. “See that? I even got
attitude
right!” He looked from Landon to Ashley. “So did ya? Did ya pray for me?”

“Yes, Coley.” Ashley set Devin down on the floor. He propped himself up on the edge of the sofa and toddled a few steps closer. She patted the spot next to her. “Let’s take a look at all those words.”

The afternoon passed in a blur of Cole’s excitement. In the celebration of all he’d accomplished in his spelling test, he seemed to forget entirely that Ashley had even gone in for a doctor’s appointment. Twice Landon exchanged a look with Ashley, silently asking her whether it was time.

But the look in her eyes said the same thing both times. Why tell Cole now? Instead Ashley spent every possible moment that afternoon with the boys, holding Devin’s hand in the backyard while Cole hunted for his favorite frog. As the day wore on, Landon began to worry about her. Was she still in denial, even now, after the diagnosis was so clear? If so, he wasn’t sure how he’d get through the next month.

After dinner they walked to the park, and only then, when Cole was skipping ahead and Devin was sleepy in the stroller, did Landon realize how quiet Ashley was being. He glanced at her and there, for the first time since her breakdown in the parking lot, he saw tears in her eyes. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and a sense of relief came over him. She wasn’t in denial. Just doing her best to enjoy what little time they had left with their daughter.

That night and through the next day, Ashley resisted Landon’s subtle suggestions that they needed to tell Cole. Instead she and Cole found time to sing to Sarah, marveling over her movements.

Not until Friday night, after she’d read to the boys and the four of them had prayed, not until the lights were out in the boys’ rooms and the doors were shut did Ashley turn and fall into Landon’s embrace.

He could tell she was crying, not because she was sobbing or out of control. But because her hot tears soaked through his shirt and onto his chest. “Baby . . .”

“You’re right.” She wiped her nose and looked at him. “If we wait any longer it’s like . . . it’s like we’re lying to him.”

It was exactly what Landon was feeling. Cole was eight years old. He would need time to prepare for the loss of his little sister, same as they needed time to prepare. Landon held her, slowly swaying with her. “Do you want to tell him?”

“No.” She grabbed at his shirt and held on. “I can’t do it, Landon. I don’t want to see his heart break.”

“Shhh.” He steadied her, understanding her. “I’ll take him fishing tomorrow morning. I can tell him then.”

“Okay.” She took a few quick breaths and continued to cling to him. “Why us? Why?”

Landon hated seeing her this way, hated that there was nothing he could do to make her feel the hope she’d felt just a few days ago. But he was grateful, too. Ashley needed to grieve. They both did. Because every day brought them closer to the inevitable. They still needed to talk about the impossible—a funeral for their daughter.

But that could wait.

For now it was all either of them could do to think about breaking the news to Cole.

Landon crept into Cole’s room just before sunup. “Hey . . . wake up.” He sat on the edge of his son’s bed and rubbed the boy’s back. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Cole opened his eyes and looked around, confused. “I thought . . . I thought it was Saturday.”

“It is.” Landon smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” Cole sat up partway. “Right now?”

“Yep.” Landon pointed across the room. Two fishing poles were leaning against the doorway. “You and I are going fishing!”

“Really!” Cole was up and out of bed like someone had thrown a glass of cold water at him. “Before the fish are even awake?”

“Exactly.” Over the last few years, this had become their favorite time to fish. Right around sunup when the fish were still waking up. “Come on. I made you scrambled eggs.”

“Wow, Dad . . . you won’t believe this.” Cole rushed to his dresser drawers and pulled out his favorite faded khakis, the ones with lots of pockets for fishing lures. “I dreamed we were fishing, and we caught the biggest fish of the summer!” A silly grin lit up his face. “And now we’re going fishing for real. I have a feeling it’ll be a trip we remember.”

Landon loved the boy’s attitude. A nervous knot formed in his stomach. Whether they caught any fish or not, they were bound to remember this fishing trip. Probably forever. He waited while Cole slipped into a red shirt and pulled on yesterday’s socks. When his shoes were on and tied, he stood up and held his hands out to his sides. “How’s that for record time?”

“Perfect. Your eggs’ll still be hot.”

Since Ashley and Devin were still sleeping, Landon and Cole shared a quiet breakfast, then loaded the fishing poles and red cooler into the Durango. Landon had made a couple of ham sandwiches and grabbed several water bottles for later. But the cooler also held a few small containers of worms, which were always the best bait this time of day.

Cole chattered all the way to the lake, telling about how Jimmy Jones had failed his spelling test. “’Cause he was cheating, Dad. Isn’t that bad?” He swung his feet, which didn’t quite touch the floor of Landon’s SUV, his excitement tangible. “He was looking on Mary Jo’s paper, and the teacher caught him. Got sent to the principal and everything.”

Landon kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Makes you glad you studied.”

“Yeah, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t cheat. Not ever.” Cole tapped his fingers on his knees. “Know why?”

“Why?” Landon wasn’t paying close attention to Cole. He was trying to imagine how he’d break the news to him and whether he would ever be the same again afterward.

“Because God wouldn’t like that.” Cole shrugged. “You can’t pray to God for help and then cheat your way through a test. God might never answer any other prayer ever again.”

“Hmmm.” Landon glanced at him. “I don’t think God works like that.” The message was necessary. Especially in light of what was to come.

“Really?”

“Defintely. If Jimmy Jones tells his parents the truth, and if he tells Jesus he’s sorry for cheating, God’ll forgive him. He can still pray all he wants.”

“And God will hear him?”

Landon narrowed his eyes and looked straight ahead again. He needed to say something that would act as a transition for the conversation yet to come. “God doesn’t answer our prayers just because we’re good. Sometimes He doesn’t answer them the way we want and—” A rush of emotion caught him off guard. He swallowed, trying to find his voice. “And sometimes we don’t understand why.”

“Oh.” Cole’s enthusiasm dimmed. “You mean like . . . I could’ve prayed for my spelling test and still done real bad?”

“Yes. You might not have studied enough, or you might’ve been distracted.” Landon clenched his jaw. The next part was for himself as much as Cole. “No matter how you did on your test, God would’ve been with you. It’s just . . . prayers don’t always get answered the way we want.” He gave Cole a quick look. “Understand?”

Cole’s face fell. “Sort of.” He was quiet for a minute. Then they passed another pickup loaded with fishing gear. Instantly Cole’s mood lifted. “We’re gonna beat them there, huh, Dad? We’ll have a spot before they do, and that means we’ll get the bigger fish.”

“Maybe, buddy. We’ll see.”

They found a close parking spot and lugged the cooler down to their favorite place along the shore.

Cole craned his neck in either direction. “I think we’re first out.”

Landon wasn’t about to point out the ten or twelve fishing boats anchored in the lake. Those fishermen had probably been at work for hours already. Instead he patted Cole’s head. “You might be right.”

They took a container of worms from the cooler and peeled the plastic lid off.

“I like the fat ones.” Cole dug his finger around the dirt until he found a worm that suited him. “There. This one’s perfect.” He winked at Landon. “I say crappie and shiner minnows are for the birds. Fat worms are the best.”

“Fat and squirmy.” Landon pressed a wiggly worm firmly onto his hook. Then together they moved to the water’s edge. Landon had chairs in his Durango, but he and Cole rarely used them. If they needed to sit, they could balance on the edge of the cooler. For now they would stand at the shore and see if the fish were interested.

“Watch, Dad!” Cole had been fishing with Landon since he was in kindergarten. He moved his rod back and cast out into the lake with the same grace as most adults. He grinned at Landon. “That’s farther than last year, huh?”

Landon chuckled. “Probably ten feet farther.” Even on a day that would be marked with sorrow, Cole could make him laugh. The boy was so competitive. If they could survive the insanity of youth sports, Landon had a feeling Cole would become a very good athlete. Competition was simply in his blood—even when his only opponent was himself.

“I don’t know.” Cole studied his bobber. “Maybe twenty feet more.”

Again Landon laughed. “Okay, twenty.”

Then, the way it often did when they first started out, their conversation dropped off. Landon cast out, and for half an hour they reeled in a little and then a little more and then all the way so they could check their bait and cast out again. Cole was like a little pro, and Landon hoped the boy might catch something early. Before the mood was ruined.