i A DREAM COME TRUE
Katy Is thrilled about her future \\ ith I lollywood's ):1\h \IAIII1C\\ s.Ihit 
as she plans a wedding and looks
a house on the shores of Lake Monroe, she receives I ag', news. Now everything 
about the luturc they planned together is hanging 011 the brink. OnlY a miracle 
ii 11(.11) them find their way through.
A PUBLIC STRUGGLE
o 1\,ik ;Ind MO of the flaxters travel to 1.os Angeles .111,1,.011 through their 
options. \\lid(' paparazzi open fire .01 1H 1.151c1 larnilv, Luke helps field 
requests from the
III(' ',Mlle time, he must wrestle with feelings !ILI! iimibled him for nearly a 
year.
A FAMILY'S UNDYING LOVE
1\ the haxter family must pull together one last .1, Ill ol service, a labor of 
love to help Katy and .II \\ hat they've always longed for---a chance
III ,uiviving tough times, about
I/ NINI hope luom family and deep l'ai(1-1
!WI
ii . I am so hooked on your books. My goal is to collect them all and share them 
with my friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers!"
-Peggy
"I can't find the words to describe the emotions I went through reading the 
entire Redemption series. God bless you, Karen, for letting Him use your pen and 
hand and of course your heart to put words of such magnitude on paper to bless 
us all so much!"
-Darlene
"You are the best writer ever. I get so excited when I walk into a Christian 
bookstore and see one of your new books sitting there." -Jessica
"Thank you for your beautifully written books. They make me laugh, they make me 
cry, and they fill my heart with a love that can only be God once again touching 
my heart and my soul."
-Natalie
"Okay, where's the next one? I know it's sitting in a warehouse ,,omewhere and 
you are making us wait! (Just kidding!) Karen, there isn't a person I know who 
doesn't read your books and hold you and your family in their prayers!"-Rachel
1k-changing books! I haven't been much of a reader until now! I have fallen in 
love with all of the Baxters. Thank you for letting me
ieve my mother's death in a whole new light. . . . I have It-commended the 
series to everyone I come across."-Peggy
iii 
iv "I have fallen away from the almighty God many times. But always reading one 
of your books reminds me as to why I desperately need Him in my life. Thank 
you!"-Nichole
"I loved the Redemption series and have shared it with various women in my 
church. Everyone has the same answer: 'I loved it!' We ALL laughed and cried. 
Your writing is an inspiration to all!"
-Rachel
"Let Me Hold You Longer is breathtaking! My friend read this story to me-the 
first night we both left our new babies overnight. And by the end, the two of us 
were bawling. She bought me my own copy for Mother's Day, and I read it to 
everyone . . . and each person cries as I read the words. I now buy it lor every 
baby shower I go to. I think every parent should own or read this book. I read 
it as often as I can."-Shannon
"My husband is equally hooked on your books. It is a family affair for us now! 
Can't wait for the next one."-Angie
"The words God gives you in your stories have such power to reach my emotions. 
No other author has been able to do that!" -Diane
"Every time our school buys your next new book, everybody goc, crazy trying to 
read it first!"-Roxanne
Recently I made an effort to find GOOD Christian writers, and iit the jackpot 
with Karen Kingsbury!"
v 
TYNDALE HOUSE PUBLISHERS, INC Carol Stream, Illinois
Karen
IGSB
Kr] 
vi 
Visit Karen Kingsbury's Web site and learn more about her life-Changing Fiction 
at
-TYNDALE and Tyndale's quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndall House 
Publishers, Inc.
Logo illustration copyright OD 2003 by David Ilenderson. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph of people copyright 0 2005 by hi i.111 MacDonald. All rights 
reserved.
Cover photograph of cabin copyright 0 by Brad Sinimons/Beateworks/Corbis. All 
rights reserved.
Published in association with the literary agency )1 Alive Communications, Inc., 
7680 Goddard
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. 
NIV®. Copyright 0 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Ilsed by 
permission of Zondervan. All rights
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either 
are the product of the author's imagination or are ii.sed fictitiously. Any 
resemblance to actual events, locales,
or anizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond 
the intent of either the author or publisher.
This novel is a work of fiction. Is the author's ima ination or are I or 
anizanons, or persons, living the author or publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kingsbury, Karen.
Forever / Karen Kingsbury.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-1-4143-0764-0 (pbk. 
: alk. paper) ISBN-10: 1-4143-0764-0 (phk. alk. paper)
I. Title
PS:3561.14873Hin 2007
813'.54-dc222006035170
Library of Congress Cataloging
Kingsbury, Karen.
Forever / Karen Kingsbury. p. cm.
Includes bibliographica I re len ISBN-13: 978-1-4143-0764-0 ISBN-10: 
1-4143-0764-0 (phk 1. Title
PS:3561.14873Hin 2007
8 13'.54-dc22
Printed in the United States of America Printed in the United States of A
Visit Tyndale's exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com
www.KarenKingsbury.com
Forever
Copyright ©2007 by Karen Kingsbury. All rights reserved
Designed by Jennifer Ghionzoli Ldited by Cork.. Popp
Street, t, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Co 80920.
reserved.
Visit Tyndale's exciting Web site Visit Karen Kingsbury's W b site 
www.KarenKingsbury.com
-TYNDALE and Tyndale's quill lo Forever
Copyright e 2007 by Karen Kin; Logo illustration copyright 20 Cover photograph 
of people cop Cover photograph of cabin copy Designed by J nnifer Ghionzoli 
Ldited by Citric Popp
Published in association with thi Sire t, Suite 200, Colorado Sprir scripture 
quotations are taken fr
0 1973, 1978, 1984 by Internati reserved.
II 12 1110 09 08 07
7654321
vii Donald, my prince charming
We've reached a new year, another season in life, and still I cannot imagine 
this ride without you. Our kids are flourishing, and so much of that is because 
of you, because of your commitment to me and to them. You are the spiritual 
leader, the man of my dreams who makes this whole crazy, wonderful adventure 
possible. I thank God for you every day. I am amazed at the way you blend love 
and laughter, tenderness and tough standards to bring out the best in our boys. 
Thanks for loving me, for being my best friend, and for finding "date moments" 
amid even the most maniacal or mundane times. My favorite times are with you by 
my side. I love you always, forever.
Kelsey, my precious daughter You are seventeen, and somehow that sounds more 
serious than the other ages. As if we jumped four years over the past twelve 
months. Seventeen brings with it the screeching of brakes on a childhood that 
has gone along full speed until now. Seventeen? Seventeen years since I held you 
in the nursery, feeling a sort of love I'd never felt before. Seventeen sounds 
like bunches of lasts all lined up ready to take the stage and college 
counselors making plans to take my little girl from here and home into a 
brand-new big world. Seventeen tells me it won't be much longer. Especially as 
you near the end of your junior year. Sometimes I find myself barely able to 
exhale. The ride is so fast at this point that I can only try not to blink so I 
Won't miss a minute of it. Like the most beautiful springtime flower, I see you 
growing and unfolding, becoming interested in current events and formulating 
godly viewpoints that are yours alone. The same is true in dance, where you are 
simply breathtaking onstage. I believe in you, honey. Keep your eyes on Jesus 
and the path will be easy to follow. Don't ever stop dancing. I love you.
Tyler, my beautiful song Can it be that you are fourteen and helping me hring 
down the dishes from the top shelf? Just yesterday people would call and confuse 
you with Kelsey. Now they confuse you with your dad-in more ways than one. You 
are on the bridge, dear son, making the transition between Neverland and 
Tomorrowland and becoming a strong, godly young man in the process. Keep giving 
Jesus your very best, and always remember that you're in a battle. In today's 
world, Ty, you need His armor every day, every minute. Don't forget . . . when 
you're up there onstage, no matter how bright the lights, I'll be watching from 
the front row, cheering you on. I love you.
viii Sean, my wonder boy
Your sweet nature continues to be a bright light in our home. It seems a 
lifetime ago that we first brought you-our precious son-home from Haiti. Its 
been my great joy to watch you grow and develop this past year, learning more 
about reading and writing and, of course, animals. You're a walking encyclopedia 
of animal facts, and that, too, brings a smile to my face. Recently a cold 
passed through the family, and you handled it better than any of us. Smiting 
through your fever, eyes shining even when you felt your worst. Sometimes I try 
to imagine if everyone everywhere had your outlook-what a sunny place the world 
would be. Your hugs are something I look forward to, Sean. Keep close to Jesus. 
I love you.
Josh, my tender tough guy
You continue to excel at everything you do, but my favorite time is late at 
night when I poke my head into your room and see that-once again- your nose is 
buried in your Bible. You really get it, Josh. I loved hearing you talk about 
baptism the other day, how you feel ready to make that decision, that commitment 
to Jesus. At almost twelve, I can only say that every choice you make for Christ 
will take you closer to the plans He has for your life. That by being strong in 
the Lord, first and foremost, you'll be strong at everything else. Keep winning 
for Him, dear son. You make me so proud. I love you.
EL my chosen one 
You amaze me, Emmanuel Jean! The other day you told me that you pray often, and 
I asked you what about. "I thank God a lot," you told me. "I thank Him for my 
health and my life and my home." Your normally dancing eyes grew serious. "And 
for letting me be adopted into the right family." I still feel the sting of 
tears when I imagine you praying that way. I'm glad God let you be adopted into 
the right family too. One of my secret pleasures is watching you and Daddy 
becoming so close. I'll glance over at the family room during a play-off 
basketball game on TV, and there you'll he, snuggled up close to him, his arm 
around your shoulders As long as Daddy's your hero you have nothing to worry 
about. You couldn't have a better role model. I know that Jesus is leading the 
way and that you are excited to learn the plans He has for you. But for you, 
this year will always stand out as a turning point. Congratulations, honey! I 
love you.
ix Austin, my miracle child
Can my little boy be nine years old? Even when you're twenty-nine you'll be my 
youngest, my baby. I guess that's how it is with the last child, but there's no 
denying what my eyes tell me. You're not little anymore. Even so, I love that- 
once in a while-you wake up and scurry down the hall to our room so you can 
sleep in the middle. Sound asleep I still see the blond-haired infant who lay in 
intensive care, barely breathing, awaiting emergency heart surgery. I'm grateful 
for your health, precious son, grateful God gave you back to us at the end of 
that long-ago day. Your heart remains the most amazing part of you, not only 
physically, miraculously, but because you have such kindness and compassion for 
people. One minute tough boy hunting frogs and snakes out back, pretending 
you're an Army Ranger, then getting teary eyed when Horton the Elephant nearly 
loses his dust speck full of little Who people. Be safe, baby boy. I love you.
And to God Almighty, the Author of life,
who has-for now-blessed me with these.
x 
xi ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book couldn't have come together without the help of many people. First, a 
special thanks to my friends at Tyndall, who have believed in this series and 
worked with me to get this fifth book to my readers sooner than any of us 
dreamed possible. Thank you!
Also thanks to my amazing agent, Rick Christian, president of Alive 
Communications. I am amazed more as every day passes at your sincere integrity, 
your brilliant talent, and your commitment to the Lord and to getting my 
Life-Changing Fiction out to readers all over the world. You are a strong man of 
God, Rick. You care for my career as if you were personally responsible for the 
souls God touches through these books. Thank you for looking out for my personal 
time-the hours I have with my husband and kids most of all. I couldn't do this 
without you.
As always, this book wouldn't be possible without the help of my husband and 
kids, who will eat just about anything when I'm on deadline and who understand 
and love me anyway. I thank God that I'm still able to spend more time with you 
than with my pretend people, as Austin calls them. Thanks for understanding the 
sometimes crazy life I lead and for always being my greatest support.
Thanks to my mother and assistant, Anne Kingsbury, for your great sensitivity 
and love for my readers. You are a reflection of my own heart, Morn, or maybe 
I'm a reflection of yours. Either way we are a great team, and I appreciate you 
more than you know. I'm grateful also for my dad, Ted Kingsbury, who is and 
always has been my greatest encourager. I remember when I was a little girl, 
Dad, and you would say, "One day, honey, everyone will read your books and know 
what a wonderful writer you are." Thank you for believing in me long before 
anyone else ever did. Thanks also to my sisters Tricia and Susan and Lynne, who 
help out with my business when the workload is too large to see around. I 
appreciate you!
xii 
Thanks to Katie Johnson, who runs a large part of my business life-everything 
from my accounting to my calendar. God brought you to me, Katie, and I'll be 
grateful as long as I'm writ. ing for Him. Don't ever leave, okay? And to Olga 
Kalachik, whose hard work helping me prepare for events allows me to operate a 
significant part of my business from my home. The personal touch you both bring 
to my ministry is precious to me priceless to me. ... Thank you with all my 
heart.
And thanks to my friends and family, especially my sister Sue, who is a new 
addition to my staff, and to my niece Melissa Kane, who helped me with a major 
project this past year. Thanks to Ann and Sylvia and all of you who pray for me 
and my family. We couldn't do this without you. Thanks to all of you who 
continue to surround me with love and prayer and support. I could list you by 
name, but you know who you are. Thank you for believing in me and for seeing who 
I really am. F true friend stands by through the changing seasons of life and 
cheers you on not for your successes but for staying true to what matters most. 
You are the ones who know me that way, and I'm grateful for every one of you.
Of course, the greatest thanks go to God Almighty, the most wonderful Author of 
all-the Author of life. The gift is Yours. I pray I might have the incredible 
opportunity and responsibility to use it for You all the days of my life.
xiii FOREVER IN FICTION
A SPECIAL THANKS to Heidi Jones, who won the Forever in Fiction auction at the 
Veritas Classical Christian School in Oregon. Heidi chose to give the gift to 
her friend Susan Johnson, who chose to honor her sister, Cynthia Crivellone 
Deming, by naming her Forever in Fiction.
Cindy Deming died in a car accident at age thirty-seven. She was pregnant with 
her first child and survived by her husband, Sean. Cindy was passionate about 
animals, and at the time of her death she had eight cats, three dogs, two 
ferrets, and a rabbit. She was a very giving person, quiet by nature, and a good 
listener. She was petite with long, naturally curly brown hair, and she had just 
one sibling, Susan Johnson. She was also survived by her parents, Leonard Murphy 
and Barbara Murphy, who died seven months after Cindy.
Cindy enjoyed scuba diving and hiking the Oregon mountains, because she was 
always up for a challenge. She once went to Europe with friends and stayed at 
hostels, figuring out transportation as they traveled from one place to another. 
Even so,
xi
xiv being a mother.
funds are raised for charities. spot
her favorite vacation spot was easily Hawaii. Cindy was a dedi- cated sister and 
daughter and granddaughter and would go out of her way to spend time with 
family. She was looking forward to
In Forever, I chose to make Cindy a neurosurgeon so her character could take 
part in saving the life of someone who had also been in a terrible car accident. 
Heidi and Susan, I pray that Cindy is honored by her placement in Forever and 
that you will always remember her with a smile when you see her name in the 
pages of this novel, where she will be Forever in Fiction. For those of you who 
are not familiar with Forever in Fiction, it is my way of in you, the readers, 
in my stories while raising money for charities. To date this item has raised 
more than $100,000 at charity auctions across the country. If you are interested 
in having a Forever in Fiction package donated to your auction, contact my 
assistant, Katie Johnson, at Kingsburydesk@aol.com. Please write Forever in 
Fiction in the subject line. Please note that I am able to donate only a limited 
number of these each year. For that reason I have set a fairly high minimum bid 
on this package. That way the maximum
FOREVER
was easily Ha n. and randdau with family. She
Lo make Cindy rt in saving the 1 ir
accident. Heic r placement in F ith
a smile when !re she will be F1 o are not amili voving you, all r charities. To 
d charity auction avin
a Forever contact my assi m. Please write that am able 1 ear. For that re this 
package. T irities.
XII
1 
THERE WERE moments when the sun shone SO brightly on her life that Katy Hart 
could barely stand beneath it. Moments when she would be getting ready for a day 
of Christian Kids Theater rehearsals or folding laundry or filling her tank with 
gas and she'd have to check her ring finger. Just to be sure it had really 
happened.
Dayne Matthews had asked her to marry him.
She opened the door to her apartment, stepped inside, and exhaled. She'd spent 
the afternoon and evening with the Flanigans, first shopping with Jenny and then 
having dinner and watching a movie with the family. Now she wanted to be 
upstairs when Dayne called, the way he called every night around this time. She 
closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a minute.
Overnight God had taken her life from foggy uncertainty to crystal clear 
panoramas. She and Dayne wanted a simple wedding on the shore of Lake Monroe. He 
had already met with a wedding planner in Hollywood, a woman known for her
2 
brilliance at pulling off secret ceremonies, events the paparazzi never figured 
out until they were over.
The job would be a tough one, and Katy had resigned herself to the possibility 
that the press might find out, that helicopters could circle overhead and 
cameramen could infiltrate the trees along the lake to get a picture. Whatever. 
They'd already dragged her name across the cover of the tabloids.
She was marrying Dayne Matthews. Soon the whole world would know anyway.
They hadn't picked a date, but spring seemed perfect. Bloomington was beautiful 
in April and May. Dayne would have time to film one more movie by then, and it 
would allow enough time to find a wedding dress and figure out the reception, 
time to fly to Chicago and talk to her parents about the plans. Dayne had told 
her they didn't have a budget, but Katy wanted something simple and elegant, 
something she could find in Indianapolis as easily as in New York City.
It was the third week of July, which meant they had eight or nine months. Not 
much time considering how busy they would be in their separate lives over the 
next few months. Dayne was working six-day weeks filming his current movie in 
Los Angeles, the romance film with Academy Award-winning actress Randi Wells. 
And Katy needed to sort through the scripts for the lineup of plays slated for 
CKT's coming year. Sometimes she felt dizzy with everything that had happened in 
the last two weeks.
Katy sighed. Yes, the sun was shining brighter than ever in her life.
She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. As she headed for bed, the 
phone rang. She darted across the room, grabbed the receiver, and bounced onto 
the mattress. The caller ID told her what she already knew. It was Dayne. She 
hit the Talk button. "Hey."
"Mmmm." He sounded tired, lonely, but even so she could
3 
practically see his eyes dancing. "Do you know how good that feels?"
"What?" An intimacy filled her voice, one that was reserved for him alone.
"Hearing you, knowing you're at the other end of the line." He drew a slow 
breath. "I look forward to this minute all day long." She smiled. "Me too."
They talked about his day, and eventually that led to Dayne's recent 
conversation with his missionary friend Bob Asher. "God's making it all so 
clear-the future and how it's supposed to play out."
Katy thought about the weeks and months when the future had seemed anything but 
clear. During Dayne's involvement with Kabbalah or his time with Kelly Parker. 
"There were days I didn't think we'd ever be here."
"I know." He was quiet for a moment. "I thank God every night, Katy. Every 
night."
The topic shifted again, and he told her about the movie he was making. The 
director still believed they had a major hit on their hands, and a buzz had 
started that maybe this was the film that would earn Dayne his first Academy 
Award. That led to talk about the paparazzi and how a reporter for Celebrity 
Life magazine was getting closer to the truth about the identity of Dayne's 
birth family.
"It doesn't matter." Katy leaned back against her headboard. "They'll find out 
one day anyway."
"Not now, though. Not before the wedding."
They talked about the Baxters, how Ashley had accepted the role of assistant 
director for CKT's coming season and how the other Baxters were excited about 
Thanksgiving, when the whole family would be together for the first time.
Dayne steered the conversation back to the two of them. "Have you found it?" His 
voice held depth and tenderness, a tone that told her how much he missed her.
4 
"What?" She glanced at a photo of them on her nightstand. "Our house. I keep 
thinking you'll call and tell me you found
it
Katy sat up and crossed her legs. "You're serious?"
"Of course." An easy laugh came from him. "If you like it, I'll like it."
"But . . ." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Shouldn't you be here?"
"You find it and I'll fly out and take a look. How's that?"
"I don't know." If he were any other guy, she'd ask him about their price range. 
But that wouldn't be an issue with Daynesomething else that would take adjusting 
to. "I know we talked about it before, but really, Dayne, you should be here. 
You said near the lake, but do you want acreage or a smaller place closer to 
town?"
"Not near the lake." He chuckled. "On the lake. A big yard and a sweeping 
porch."
She grinned. "I told you . . . lakefront property is almost nonexistent. 
Something near the lake, maybe. But on it?"
"I can dream, can't I?" He laughed again. "Okay. Eventually I want to be on the 
lake, but for now it doesn't matter. As long as I'm with you we can pitch a tent 
in the Baxters' backyard. Which we might have to do if you don't start looking."
"All right, I get it. I'll look." She gazed at her ring and adjusted her left 
hand so the diamond sparkled in the light. "I'll start tomorrow. I have a CKT 
meeting at Ashley's house; then I'll drive around the lake and see what's for 
sale." The task ahead still felt daunting, but if Dayne trusted her, that was 
all that mattered.
"No pressure, Katy. As long as we're in Bloomington . . ." She could almost see 
his smile over the phone line. "Although . . .1 have this props job I'm 
interested in, so I should probably be pretty close to the theater."
She giggled. Gone were the sad, drawn-out conversations between them. Instead 
they were always laughing, always play4
5 
ing. She tried to sound more official. "If the director hires you, you mean."
"True." He paused. "But see, I know her. Got her wrapped around my finger."
"Is that right?" She held the phone closer. If only they didn't have so long to 
wait until they were together again.
"Yep." His tone changed just enough to let her know this next part was serious. 
"But not nearly like I'm wrapped around hers." He hesitated. "By the way, my 
director says I'm more convincing than ever." Dayne's voice filled with 
tenderness. It felt like he was sitting beside her. "Can you believe that?"
"Must be Randi Wells." Katy was teasing. Dayne obviously wasn't interested in 
his costar, though at first the tabloids questioned an offscreen romance. He had 
kept things so platonic that after a few weeks of filming, the gossip rags did 
an about-face and hinted at feuding between the two.
"You know what it is, right?"
"What?"
"It's you." His tone changed, and she could almost hear his beating heart. "I've 
never been in love before . . so how could I have been convincing?"
She sighed. "How am I going to survive until I see you again?" "If you figure it 
out, let me know."
Katy opened her mouth. She was about to suggest that maybe she could come out 
for a weekend, stay at a local hotel, and at least share a few days with him 
between weeks of filming. But the last time she'd been in Los Angeles the 
paparazzi had chased them and nearly caused a major collision. Dayne had made it 
clear: until they were married, they needed to do their visiting in Bloomington. 
She would've suggested he break away for a visit, but during filming there was 
often weekend work. They'd have to wait until his film wrapped up.
They talked for another half hour, dreaming out loud about their wedding and the 
days ahead.
6 
When the call ended, Katy turned off the light and lay back on her pillow. For a 
long time she stared into the dark, replaying the conversation and missing 
Dayne. Maybe she would fly to Los Angeles anyway. Show up on his set and 
surprise him. If they didn't run from the paparazzi, maybe they could avoid a 
chase. She was still thinking about the possibility when she fell asleep.
The next morning Katy woke up later than she'd intended and hurried through her 
morning routine. As she raced out of the house, she checked her watch. Thirty 
minutes until the nine o'clock meeting at Ashley's house, and she still wanted 
to pick up coffee for the group. Ashley was thrilled about her new position with 
the theater kids. A week ago CKT coordinator Bethany Allen had asked Ashley to 
join the theater group's artistic team. She would oversee sets and work with 
Rhonda Sanders as an assistant director. All of which was wonderful, since Katy 
would be busy planning a wedding.
This morning the team wanted to come up with a list of props and sets needed for 
the three upcoming productions. But that wasn't all they would talk about. 
Ashley was about to become Katy's sister-in-law. By now, all Ashley's siblings 
knew that Dayne was their brother. It was why they'd made plans for a 
Thanksgiving celebration.
Katy yawned and focused on the road. Never mind the thunderclouds on the distant 
horizon; she felt like squinting. The future looked that bright. Yes, they still 
had some details to work out: How often Katy would visit Dayne during his 
filming once they were married or whether he'd do all the traveling so their 
visits could be more private. They needed to figure out a plan for the paparazzi 
so they wouldn't always be running.
But none of that felt insurmountable. Now that Dayne had decided to live in 
Bloomington, every aspect of their future felt possible. And one day-maybe not 
too far down the road-they might even live as normal people. Because Bloomington 
was the kind of town that treated people like friends and family. Fame
7 
had no place in the circles Katy ran in. Bloomington would embrace them and 
protect them, and they would virtually disappear from the media landscape.
She checked the digital clock on her dashboard and thought about the coffee. As 
she looked up, a sign ten yards ahead caught her eye: Estate Home-For Sale by 
Owner. The stoplight turned red and Katy slowed her car. When she was close 
enough, she scanned the sign. Most of it was illegible, but she could make out 
one very distinct word: lakefront. The sign pointed right. Katy bit her lip and 
hesitated. Ashley's house was left.
Dayne's words from the night before filled her senses. "Not near the lake, on 
the lake. A big yard and a sweeping porch."
Before she could analyze her options, she made a right turn. She flipped open 
her cell phone and dialed Ashley's number. "I'll be a few minutes late." She 
didn't want to say that she was following a For Sale sign on a whim.
"I was just going to call you." Ashley sounded out of breath. "Bethany just 
called. She can't be here till nine-thirty, and the kids are running me ragged. 
Take your time."
Katy smiled. "Okay. See ya." She hung up just as she saw the next sign. Sure 
enough, it directed her toward a secluded part of the lake. Her heart beat a 
little faster. She followed the signs another few miles, through a series of 
turns and onto a two-lane road that ran along the perimeter of the lake. She was 
familiar with the area, and suddenly she remembered something. There was a house 
out this way-more of a landmark really-that had been written about in the 
newspaper recently. Could that be where she was headed?
She rounded a bend in time to see a larger sign posted close to the road, right 
in front of the house she'd read about. Katy pulled over and stared at the 
place. The article had been in last Sunday's paper. The rustic, cabin-style 
structure had belonged to Carol and Elmer Nichols for sixty-two years. Elmer had 
built the house, and for six decades it was a place of love and laughter and
8 
much activity. But several years back, both Carol and Elmer had grown ill and 
been placed in a local nursing home. Their kids lived out of state with their 
own children and grandchildren, and the grand old place had slowly fallen apart. 
Even so, the family hadn't wanted to sell.
But a year ago Carol died, and last month Elmer followed. Their deaths made the 
house part of an inheritance, and that was the subject of the newspaper article. 
The kids had taken a vote and decided that they would sell the house only if no 
one in the family was able to restore it. The article had quoted the oldest 
Nichols daughter as saying, "The last thing we want to do is let the place go to 
someone outside the family."
Apparently things hadn't worked out, because here it was, definitely for sale. 
Katy pulled into the driveway and realized how large the property was. There 
were several acres of overgrown grass that made up the distance from the road to 
the house. Katy's heart beat a little faster. Even in disrepair the house was 
unlike any other in Bloomington.
The place was big enough to be a lodge, and if Katy hadn't read the recent 
article she would've assumed it was. It was situated at the far end of the field 
on a bluff overlooking the most beautiful part of the lake. Wrapped around the 
exterior was a full-size porch, and from what she could see, an oversize deck 
came off the back of the house.
Katy parked and got out of her car. The building looked empty, and as she walked 
closer she could see the house better. The old place had certainly fallen apart. 
The decks and railings sagged, and in some places they were broken in half. Two 
of the windows were cracked, and an old screen door hung from one hinge. The 
exterior of the house needed painting, and the roof looked damaged in some 
spots. Katy narrowed her eyes, trying to imagine the place fixed up. It would be 
spectacular, a house even Dayne couldn't have dreamed she'd find in so short a 
time.
She jogged to the For Sale sign and pulled a flyer from the
H
9 
box. Six-bedroom, four-bath, lodge-style home in as-is condition. The price was 
seven figures, but the property alone had to be worth that. She looked around 
the field. The house sat on at least ten private acres bordered by huge maple 
trees on two sides and a worn-out, split-rail fence near the road. Nothing 
blocked the view on the lakeside.
Suddenly Katy had to see. Since the house appeared abandoned, it couldn't matter 
if she peeked at the backyard. She hurried toward the edge of the bluff and 
angled closer to the house. The backyard was a mess-a broken hammock; an 
overturned wheelbarrow; a rusty swing set; old, dilapidated furniture scattered 
about. Beyond that was a damaged staircase leading down to a private dock.
Again she felt her heart soar. She could picture the yard cleared out and 
cleaned up, with new decking and railings. She took in the lake view and felt 
dizzy with the possibilities. The setting was perfect. She could almost see the 
future playing out before her, hear the voices and laughter from family and 
friends who would come here for a barbecue or a birthday party. She could see it 
all-and Dayne by her side, the two of them living out a dream.
Katy turned and studied the abandoned house. What a shame the Nichols family had 
let it fall apart this way.
Katy folded the flyer and headed back to her car. She could hardly wait to talk 
to Dayne. She dialed his number on the way to Ashley's, and though she couldn't 
talk long, she told him she'd found it. Their dream house. She would fill him in 
on the details later when he was off work.
For now she had to focus on the meeting at Ashley's, get the work done so she 
could tell Ashley about the house. All her life Katy had wanted a sister, 
someone to share her heart with, someone who would have another viewpoint on 
family matters and relationships. She had Rhonda and Jenny, but a sister would 
be more than a confidante and a friend. A sister was family.
10 
She leaned back in the driver's seat as she made her way to Ashley's house. As 
the meeting finished and she finally had the chance to tell Ashley all about the 
house, Katy thanked God. This was just one more way He had blessed her through 
Dayne's love. Ashley was already a friend.
One day soon she would be a sister.
I0
11 
ASHLEY BAXTER Blake hung up the kitchen phone and grinned at her husband. "I did 
it. He's coming. I knew he would." She raised her eyebrows. "But not a word to 
Katy."
"What if it's not the right house?" Landon held a fussy Devin in his arms, and 
he reached for the pacifier on the kitchen counter. The baby was three months 
old now, and already he looked so much like Cole.
"It is. Katy said so." Ashley couldn't have been happier. Ever since Katy told 
her about the house, she'd been dreaming up this plan-talking Dayne into coming 
to Bloomington and surprising Katy.
Landon looked worried. "Shouldn't you have let her tell him first?"
"She did. She told him as soon as she found it." She flashed him a look meant to 
show her innocence. "I didn't say anything she hadn't already said. I just told 
him Katy needed him. That's all it took."
Devin started crying.
12 
Landon kissed him on the forehead. "Colic, I think." He handed the baby to 
Ashley and kissed her at the same time. "This is fun for you, isn't it?"
"Colic?" Ashley pulled Devin close to her and rocked him.
"Besides that." Landon gave her a silly look. He crossed his arms and stood 
against the wall. "Knowing Dayne, being involved with him and Katy."
"Are you kidding?" She held the pacifier snug against the roof of Devin's mouth, 
and the baby quieted. A quick laugh filled her throat. "Finally knowing my older 
brother, being able to pick up the phone when I want to and fill him in on his 
fiancee, who's one of my closest friends." She could feel the way her smile took 
up her face. "Yes, I'm having fun. Between that and colic-" she smiled and 
reached for Landon's hand-"and having you and Cole beside me, life doesn't get 
much better."
Devin spit out the pacifier. His cries grew louder, and he flailed his little 
arms.
"Well-" Landon looked at the baby-"there's nothing mild about our son's 
behavior. Not this afternoon."
Ashley rocked him and moved out of the kitchen into the living room. She sat in 
the old armchair, the one that seemed to swallow her up. This was her favorite 
spot to feed Devin, not only because the chair was comfortable but because it 
backed up to the front window, and in the daytime-no matter the weather- she 
could always count on a soft infusion of light to fall over her baby's face, 
just enough so she could marvel over every detail of him, the miracle he was in 
their lives.
Devin was quiet almost instantly, and Ashley could hear Landon in the kitchen. 
She waited until he returned with iced tea for her and a cup of coffee for 
himself. "Hey-" she met his eyes-"thanks for watching the boys. The meeting went 
great."
"Good." He settled into the sofa nearest her. "I love this."
"What?" Their conversation was easy, relaxed.
"Watching you, the way being a mother comes so easily."
13 
His compliment touched her more than she would've guessed. Maybe because the 
first time around she'd been a single mom, dependent on her parents for survival 
and certain she was among the handful of worst mothers ever. She felt wistful 
and nostalgic. "I wish Cole would've had me like this."
They heard the patio slider and the sound of his feet. Cole was about to enter 
third grade, and the combination of that and his role as big brother had aged 
him quickly since summer began. Where once there had been only silliness and 
make-believe, now there were conversations between Cole and her and Landon that 
always surprised her. But one thing hadn't changed-he still loved exploring 
outdoors, finding whatever the backyard allowed.
His latest experiment was with tadpoles. Cole had caught some from his 
grandfather's fishpond a few weeks ago and brought them home. It was late in the 
summer, and most frog eggs had already hatched, the tadpoles already frogs. But 
a batch of them had shown up late, and Ashley's dad had helped Cole catch them a 
day or so after they appeared.
They had bought a baby wading pool at the local Wal-Mart, and her dad and Landon 
had filled it with sand and dirt on one side that slanted down to pond water and 
rocks on the other.
"You know why we have to use pond water, right, Mommy?" Cole had asked her that 
day. "Because that's their natural habicat."
"Habitat." She smiled at him. "It's habitat."
"I know." He giggled at himself. "I think habicat's a better word 'cause most 
cats live outside."
That was something else that had changed about him. He was always looking for a 
way to make her laugh-just like Landon. The mistakes he made in grammar or word 
choices weren't a precious matter of fact any longer; they were intentional- 
meant to be funny.
Ashley listened to Cole grabbing something from the cupboard
14 
FOREVER
and running across the kitchen toward her and Landon. The wading-pool experiment 
had been perfect. They'd watched the tadpoles grow little legs and eventually 
lose their tails. Landon had told him that once that happened, they could walk 
onto land and hop around-tiny baby frogs, the tadpole stage over. Cole had 
practically kept an hour-by-hour vigil waiting for the moment.
"Mom!" he called now as he ran. "Daddy . . . look! It happened!" He turned the 
corner, carrying one of their better drinking glasses, his hand over the top.
Ashley winced at the thought of drinking iced tea from the glass again, but she 
hid her concerns and allowed only a look of wide-eyed excitement. "Baby frogs? 
Are you serious?"
"Let's take a look." Landon and Ashley moved next to Cole and stooped down so 
they could see inside the glass.
Sure enough, there at the bottom Ashley saw three tiny frogs. "I've never seen 
frogs so small."
"They grow fast." Landon put his finger to the glass. "When they finish the 
tadpole stage they still have to be very careful. They feel independent, but 
they can get in trouble pretty quick if they go too far from the edge of the 
water."
Cole gave a serious nod and peered into the glass. "I like the light green one. 
He's the big brother."
"Oh." Ashley swapped a look with Landon but hid her smile. "I'll bet that 
spotted one's the little brother."
Cole looked closer still. "Yeah." He lifted his eyes to hers. "How'd you know?"
"See that?" She pointed to the frogs. "The light green one never stops looking 
at the spotted one. Because he would never let anything happen to his little 
brother."
"Yep." Cole puffed out his chest just enough to notice. "That's how big brothers 
are."
"That's sure how you are, Coley." Landon messed up their son's blond hair. "How 
about you go put 'em back so they don't get too scared."
15 
"Yeah, I was just thinking that." He raised the glass and looked through the 
bottom. "They have the cutest feet, Mommy." He lowered the container, leaned 
close, and kissed Devin on the cheek. "Just like baby Devin." Then he was off, 
racing through the house and out the patio door.
When the door closed, Landon sat on the edge of the chair arm and chuckled. 
"That boy and his frogs. There's nothing better in all the world to him."
"Except having a brother." Ashley turned her attention to Devin and dabbed a 
soft rag against the corners of his mouth. She lifted him onto her shoulder and 
patted his back. "He loves having a brother."
"He does." Landon stroked the back of Devin's fuzzy head. Then he ran his 
fingers through Ashley's. "What I was saying earlier . . ."
Ashley thought. "About independent frogs?"
"No." Landon laughed. "About watching you be a mother." His look went deeper, 
beyond the light and easy surface. "Oh." She pressed her cheek to Devin's. 
"Right."
"And you said you wish Cole could've had you like this." Landon's tone was kind.
"I do." It was her one regret about Cole's early years.
"But here's the truth." He touched her cheek. "He does have you like that. Cole. 
. . when he's older. . . will have nothing but amazing memories of you, Ashley. 
You're the best mom." He came closer and kissed her. "I loved you when we were 
in high school, but after I saw you with Cole-" Landon looked toward the 
backyard, where Cole had run off to, then at her again- "that's when I knew I 
wasn't stopping until you were mine."
It was another one of those moments, the ones Ashley noticed all the time now. 
When she would have to draw a breath and hold it just to feel the pressure in 
her lungs, just to know that she was alive and awake and not dreaming. Landon 
really was here, and they were raising two amazing little boys. Times
16 
like this she was sure she wouldn't have survived the past few years without 
him.
But then, that had been God's gift to her, allowing Landon and her to be 
together despite all the odds they'd faced. Despite her pride and doubts, 
despite the threat of death and distance and disease, here they were. She put 
her hand alongside his face. "Thanks for chasing me, Landon."
He stood and stuck out his chest, much like Cole had done a few minutes earlier. 
"Yeah, well . . . deep down I knew it was really the other way around. That you 
were chasing me."
She giggled. "Was I that obvious?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure." His teasing faded, and he kissed her longer this time. 
"Because you're right. I was too busy running after you."
"Oh, okay." She flashed him a flirty look. "The truth comes out."
He straightened and held his hands up in mock surrender. "You got me." He looked 
at his watch and did a dramatic gasp. "You almost made me forget! It's 
Saturday!" He hurried out of view toward the patio door. She heard the sound of 
it opening, and he shouted, "Cole . . . ten minutes, buddy. Almost time for the 
lake."
"Fishing!" His high-pitched squeal followed. "Can I bring the baby frogs?"
Ashley laughed. The two of them were wonderful together, Landon and Cole. She 
glanced at Devin sleeping in her arms and was overwhelmed by God's goodness. I 
was almost too proud to let Landon in. She shuddered, imagining the cold dull 
grays life would've been without him. Thank You, God, for changing my heart. Me, 
Cole, Devin . . . all of it is only because You brought Landon into our lives.
Her husband darted back through the living room and down the hallway. "The fish 
are calling," he yelled as he ran. "Your dad won't beat me in another contest, 
Ashley. You know that, right?"
17 
She couldn't answer him without startling Devin, so she only smiled. It was good 
that Landon kept this date with Cole every Saturday in summer. The fire station 
had been kind, giving him every Saturday off, even though he sometimes had to 
make up for it by working a double shift. The years were zipping by at warp 
speed already, and soon enough Cole would have baseball practice or soccer 
clinics or driver's training to keep him busy on the weekends.
For now, though, he was still a tadpole, swimming around in the waters of 
boyhood, his tail still in sight. And the days Landon and Cole shared, the hours 
of fishing sitting atop an old red ice chest on the shores of Lake Monroe, were 
precious-every one. They allowed Ashley the chance to appreciate everything 
about her life-but especially Landon. His wisdom and love and tenderness and 
courage.
He flashed back into the room wearing a baseball cap Cole had given him for 
Father's Day-one with a satin, multicolored fish tail sticking out the back. He 
held up his tackle box. "Ready!"
Ashley smiled. She loved all those things and something else-something that 
would always mark these most tender, precious, fleeting days. The way he made 
her laugh.
The way he always made her laugh.
18 
19 
DAYNE STRETCHED his legs out on the leather sofa and stared out the window of 
the private Gulfstream jet. They were flying around 43,000 feet, higher than 
most commercial jets, and he felt like he could see much of the Midwest from his 
vantage point. He would be in Bloomington in half an hour.
Five days had passed since Dayne talked to Ashley, and he'd worked things out 
with his director to take this time off. The editors needed a look at the 
footage they had to make sure they were headed in the right direction. There 
were technical shots and a few stunt scenes to film, so a day off was necessary 
anyway.
His director, Riley S. Rosvold, was the movie industry's magic man of the 
moment. He was in his late thirties, and everyone in Hollywood knew him simply 
as Ross. He was a smart man, and no matter how badly he hinted that Dayne should 
be spending time with Randi Wells, his costar, Ross knew the truth. Everyone 
close to Dayne did. When Dayne asked for time off, Ross had only given him a 
resigned look. "Going to Indiana?"
"Taking the private jet." Dayne grinned. With the arrangements in place, he 
could already smell the clean summer air that
20 
breezed around the edges of Lake Monroe. His shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. 
"A few hours there early tomorrow, a few hours back later that night. Can't 
think of a better way to spend a day off."
Ross had looked pensive for a moment. "Mitch Henry told me about her, told me 
she read for him for the part in Dream On. Rumor around town is that she's the 
real deal, Dayne. She can act. You should get her out here. If she has that much 
talent, she's wasting it out in Podunk, Indiana."
Dayne pictured Katy, the way she looked surrounded by kids onstage at the 
Bloomington Community Theater and then as she lay sprawled out beneath a fallen 
artificial Christmas tree minutes before he proposed to her. He saw her sitting 
in her favorite box seat, teary eyed as the girl who played Orphan Annie belted 
out "Tomorrow" in a way that took the breath of everyone in the theater.
"No . . . I don't think she's wasting it, but I'll tell her what you said." He 
winked at Ross. "Between you and me, I'd still love a chance to star opposite 
her in a film. One of these days I might even get brave enough to tell her."
Ross chuckled and started to walk away. "Fine, Matthews. Enjoy your day in the 
sticks."
"I will. Hey . . ." Dayne lowered his voice to a mock whisper. "I'm at home if 
the paparazzi ask about me. The trip's a secret."
After that, the hours had passed slowly through the afternoon and into the 
evening. Filming was almost finished, and so far Ross had been ecstatic with the 
footage they'd captured.
The movie was a romance with a well-known cast. Ross firmly believed the film 
would surpass its competition and succeed well beyond box-office expectations. 
"It's got Academy Award written all over it, folks," he told them every few 
days. "We're making it happen here, people. Keep pushing."
Dayne had to agree. His emotions had never been more transparent, his ability to 
convey feelings for the camera never more
21 
convincing. It was Katy, of course. He didn't have to struggle to find his 
emotions anymore. Every one of them was wrapped up in her.
The jet engines rumbled quietly in the background. Dayne turned away from the 
window and looked around the small plane. It was set up like an intimate living 
room: plush leather sofas along either side, tables and pillows at every 
convenient location, and a big-screen television built into the wall. A catalog 
of DVDs was available in a magazine pocket on the wall, and the cabin had 
state-of-the-art surround sound. The floor was even covered with thick, soft 
carpeting. Not surprising when the price was twenty times that of a commercial 
flight. Dayne studied a patch of storm clouds below. Never mind the cost. He 
would've chartered a space shuttle if it meant getting to Katy on his day off. 
He missed her that much.
Private air travel was a must from now on. He'd made that decision after his 
last flight to Indiana. Between the Baxters and his upcoming wedding, he didn't 
want anyone knowing when he visited Bloomington.
He made the arrangements through a private airline that catered to celebrities 
and dignitaries. Yesterday Dayne asked for an open account with the company. A 
simple call, a credit-card number, and he had a personal flight arranged for six 
in the morning. Show up fifteen minutes before departure and enter through a 
private terminal, then show his ID and avoid the entire airport scene. Just a 
simple, nonstop ride straight to his destination.
The takeoff had been smooth, but the captain had warned him there'd be 
turbulence landing in Bloomington. Thunderstorms were forecast for the day. 
Dayne felt a flicker of anxiety; he'd seen firsthand the strength of an Indiana 
thunderstorm. But at least they were landing in Bloomington. There'd be no 
hour-long drive to town. Just a rental car ready for him when he landed and an 
hour later he'd meet Ashley at the old house-the one Katy had told him about.
22 
The plane jolted hard to the left and then to the right. Dayne tightened his 
grip on the armrest.
From the cockpit, the flight attendant appeared. She was a woman in her late 
fifties. She smiled at him. "Your seat belt's on?"
Dayne gave his seat belt a tug. "Nice and tight." He hated this, his fear of 
small planes. But it was understandable. He had been eighteen when his adoptive 
parents died in a small-plane crash over an Indonesian jungle. The story hadn't 
even made the papers back in the U.S. Dayne always joked with his costars that 
he'd rather travel commercial. That way if something happened, at least it'd 
make banner headlines across the country.
The plane started its descent, heading for the towering thunderheads. The cabin 
shuddered and jerked for a few seconds before the plane found smooth air again.
Dayne swallowed and looked out the window. Okay, God . . . I'm okay with this. 
But please put Your arms around this plane. Get us onto the ground safely. 
Thanks, Lord.
Nothing audible sounded in his heart, but there was an assurance that came with 
talking to the Creator of the universe. Even here, nothing would happen that 
could possibly take God by surprise.
Dayne exhaled and settled back into his seat. His thoughts drifted to Ashley's 
phone call. It had come a few hours after Katy's quick call that morning about 
the lake house. Ashley had explained that Katy had been over for a CKT meeting, 
and she'd been very excited about a house she'd found on the lake.
"She told me."
"Good. Well, we finished our meeting, and Katy just left, so I had to reach 
you." Her tone had been full of excitement. "She misses you so much, Dayne."
"I miss her too."
"That's why I have an idea."
Later, after Katy explained the house more fully, Dayne talked to Ashley again. 
He was dizzy trying to keep up with her. He loved
23 
Ashley, loved her spunk and spontaneity. He could only wonder what it would've 
been like to grow up with her. Ashley's plan was that he fly out on his first 
available day, and she would hold a CKT meeting that same morning or find 
another reason to meet with Katy. Then, sometime before noon, she would ask Katy 
to take her to the old house out on the lake for a look around. When they got 
there, Dayne would be in the backyard waiting for them.
"Katy won't believe it. She'll think it's Christmas in July." Ashley sounded 
like a kid. "Come on, Dayne. . . . Can you do it?"
The idea was impulsive, but it had worked so far.
Dayne sucked in a slow breath. The thunderheads were right below them now, and 
as the pilot maneuvered around them, again the plane shook and pitched.
"There's some water next to your seat-in the built-in ice chest." The flight 
attendant was warm, motherly, and for the most part she kept to herself. The 
company was used to flying high-profile clients. Celebrities were commonplace to 
the crew.
Dayne reached for a cold bottle and twisted off the cap. "Thanks."
The clouds surrounded them, and for the next ten minutes the jet bounced around 
like a raft on stormy seas. But in the final seconds, the plane leveled off and 
came in for a smooth landing. The pilot steered the plane across the tarmac and 
up to the private terminal. Once they stopped, the men climbed out of the 
cockpit, and one of them motioned for someone to drive up Dayne's rental car.
This was another benefit. On a one-day trip, he had no luggage. Dayne grabbed a 
small backpack, thanked the crew, and jogged down a flight of stairs to the 
ground. Ten feet away his rental was waiting for him, the driver's-side door 
open. He had already tipped the crew, so he gave them a quick wave and drove 
off.
As soon as he was out of the airport and onto the streets, he exhaled. It was 
just after eleven in the morning. He had almost an hour to locate the house and 
wait for Katy and Ashley.
He had found directions on Google, and now he headed for
24 
the lake. As he drove, the conversation with Katy about the house came back 
again. Dayne had been home after a long day on the set, eating a sandwich on the 
deck of his Malibu house.
"It's amazing, Dayne. I never thought I'd find anything like it." There was a 
sliver of doubt in her voice. "One problem, though."
On the other end, Dayne had smiled. What problem could possibly matter? Like 
he'd told her, they could live in a tent and they'd have no problems now that 
Katy had agreed to marry him, now that he'd taken time to face the rest of his 
life and make a list about what mattered most. God, then Katy, then his family. 
No questions whatsoever. And that placed him in Bloomington- the sooner the 
better. As long as the place had a roof and walls, they'd make it a home. "One 
problem?"
"Yes." A single nervous laugh filled the phone line. "The place needs a little 
work."
"Okay, so we fix it up." He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed it, and waited.
. . it sort of needs a new roof and windows. . . and the decks in the front and 
back are pretty much ruined. And in a few places-not everywhere but here and 
there-I can see straight through the walls into the house."
Dayne chuckled and swallowed his bite. "You mean you've fallen in love with a 
pile of rotten wood?"
"Maybe." She sounded sheepish. "You have to be here. It has so much potential; I 
don't see it the way it is." Her tone gained confidence. "I see it how it could 
be."
He had leaned his head back and pictured her, wishing he were with her. "Hey, 
Katy, if you get tired of your day job, you'd make a great Realtor."
"Thanks." She laughed. "Seriously . . . the place is amazing. There's nothing 
like it along the entire shore."
Katy told him the price, and he had to set down his sandwich. "That's all? You 
couldn't buy a waterfront storage space in Southern California for that."
25 
They decided Katy would contact the seller, since she lived there and since it 
was for sale by owner. At this point they didn't want to involve Dayne. He could 
transfer funds into her account so the offer could come from her alone. They 
would ask for sixty days' escrow so they could have the house and grounds 
inspected. Wood rot or termites could present a bigger problem than the need to 
replace a wall or a window. That would take them until the end of September. In 
the meantime, Dayne would set up an account so that once the title was in her 
name, Katy could start hiring contractors to do the work. If things went well, 
he planned to move to Bloomington Thanksgiving weekend, in time for the big 
dinner at the Baxter house. By then he would've wrapped all filming on his 
current project, and he wouldn't start another one until mid-February.
May, they had decided, would be best for the wedding. He would be on another 
break, and when they returned from their honeymoon they would have time alone 
together, time for long walks and quiet talks, time to draw closer and enjoy 
their first few months of being married before he was needed back in Hollywood.
Everything was coming together perfectly.
But even after talking about it that day, Katy had doubts. "I can't believe 
you'd let me make an offer on a house without seeing it."
"I trust you." Real-estate transactions weren't that big a deal for him. He'd 
invested in commercial and oceanfront property for the past decade. His manager 
handled finding the places and working out the transactions, and Dayne was 
merely the person giving approval. But Katy had never bought a house before. He 
forced himself to see the purchase through her eyes. "If you like it that much, 
I'm sure it'll be perfect."
"But maybe we could wait. . . . You'll get a break in the next few weeks, 
right?"
"With real estate, if you're sure you want it, you should
26 
jump." He loved that she was careful. He would never have to wonder if she'd 
fallen for him because of his money or his fame or any of the other things that 
the world saw in him. She loved who he was on the inside. "If it's that great, 
if you like it that much, make the offer."
"I just hate making the decision without you." Katy's voice still held doubt.
When he hung up that night, he knew Ashley was right. Katy would be thrilled 
that he'd found a way to come see the house before the purchase agreement could 
be worked out. This way they could look around it and maybe even inside it-like 
any normal couple.
He stopped at a Wendy's drive-thru for lunch, careful to keep his baseball cap 
low over his brow. Less than an hour after leaving the airport he pulled up in 
front of the house. From the two- lane road, it looked better than he'd 
imagined-bigger, grander. Katy was right; the place was beautiful. The property 
was expansive, and once someone started taking care of it, the acreage would 
stretch into a sea of manicured green. Beyond it was the prettiest view of Lake 
Monroe he'd ever seen.
He turned onto the gravel driveway. As he drove closer to the house he could see 
what Katy was talking about. Damaged decks and walls and windows, a sagging 
roof, and debris gathered around the front and back. It would take a lot of work 
to have the place ready by Thanksgiving.
Dayne parked his car in the back so it was hidden from the road. The clock on 
the dashboard said it was almost noon. Ashley would be with Katy-probably at 
Ashley's house-and right about now she'd be asking Katy for a look at the lake 
house.
Excitement welled inside him. Because of the house, yes, but also because in 
less than half an hour he would have Katy in his arms again. Hear her voice in 
person and feel her hands in his. Then they could do what Ashley had suggested.
They really could celebrate Christmas in July.
27
ANOTHER C K T meeting was over, and Katy was glad. She loved her artistic team, 
and she was thrilled with the upcoming plays and the direction she planned to 
take them, but this was the tiresome part of the job. One meeting after the 
next. The weeks of working with the kids-that was what she loved most.
Al and Nancy Helmes and Bethany and Rhonda were gone, and Katy was packing her 
bag with loose copies of the scripts and notes they'd made after going over 
scenes for the fall show.
Ashley came up, carrying keys in her hand. "You said you had errands, right?"
"Right." Katy grimaced and looked out the window. Thunderstorms had been rolling 
through since late morning. "At least I'm not wasting a sunny day."
Katy needed to hit Sam's Club for Jenny Flanigan, and she wanted to stop by the 
garden shop for a bag of fertilizer. She and the Flanigan boys had planted a 
summer garden, but only the zucchini was thriving. They'd have bushels of the 
stuff before summer was over, for sure. But the tomatoes and corn were seriously 
struggling.
28 
"I have errands too." Ashley looked a little too peppy at the idea. "How about I 
follow you, and we start with a look at your new house?"
Katy felt her eyes light up. She'd asked Ashley to come see it twice since 
Saturday, but each time her future sister-in-law had been busy. She glanced at 
Devin and Cole sitting on a blanket nearby. Cole was showing his little brother 
a plastic alligator. "What about your kids?"
"They can come." She jingled her keys. "Landon's working a twenty-four, and all 
of us need a reason to get out. I'll probably go by the station after we see the 
house."
"Yeah, Mommy! Let's do that!" Cole was on his feet. "Daddy said I can sit in the 
driver's seat of the fire engine next time."
Ashley reached out and poked her son in the ribs. "Just don't start the engine."
"I won't." He laughed and looked from Devin back to Ashley. "You're funny, 
Mommy."
She tickled him once more. "I know. I am funny."
"Yep, you are and I am too." He began running in small circles around Devin. 
"See me, Devin? . . . See how funny I am?" Devin cooed and stretched out his 
arms.
Cole yelled again, louder this time, "See how funny I am?" Ashley looked at 
Katy. "Yes, we definitely could use a reason to get out."
Katy laughed. "Follow me in your van. That way we can go our own ways after we 
take a look."
"Perfect." Ashley scooped up Devin and pointed for Cole to get his shoes on. 
-We'll be right behind you."
Ashley could hardly wait for the surprise that lay ahead. She had the kids 
buckled in, and she was just pulling her van in line behind Katy's car when her 
cell phone rang. She picked it up off the
29 
console and glanced at the caller ID. It was her brother Luke calling from New 
York.
She opened the phone and held it to her ear. "Luke, you won't believe this!"
He hesitated. "Hello to you too."
"Right ... hi. Sorry." She kept her eyes on Katy's car. "It's just, you won't 
believe this."
"Okay, fine. I'm still dazed and confused after taking the bar, but what?" He 
sounded mildly frustrated. "Let me guess. You've found another brother out there 
and he's governor of California."
Ashley frowned. This wasn't the first time she'd sensed an attitude from Luke. 
So far she hadn't questioned him about it. "You took the bar exam?"
"Remember?" His tone let up a little. "I asked you to pray."
Ashley slapped her hand against the steering wheel. "I completely forgot. I'm 
sorry." She glanced over her shoulder at the boys in the backseat. Cole was 
explaining tadpoles to Devin. Ashley pursed her lips. "How did it go?"
"Great." He sounded relieved. "A lot of people don't pass it on the first try, 
but I think I did okay."
"Good. That's great, Luke. Really." She switched lanes to stay behind Katy. "I 
can't believe I forgot. You've only been waiting to take the bar since you were 
in high school."
"Don't worry about it. So what's the big news?"
"I'm following Katy Hart out to this gorgeous house she found right on the shore 
of Lake Monroe. And guess who's meeting us there?"
"Let me think . . . our big brother." This time there was no denying the subtle 
sarcasm in his voice.
Ashley felt her shoulders sag. "How'd you know?"
"It wasn't hard. Lately every time you're excited it's about Dayne Matthews."
"Luke! Is that what you think?" She decided not to tell him that they were all 
having dinner tonight at the Baxter house.
30 
"It's true." Luke's tone became a strained-sounding calm. "We find out Dayne's 
our brother, and every time I talk to you or Kari or Erin or Brooke it's Dayne 
this' and Dayne that.'" He laughed, but it fell flat. "No big deal. I'm getting 
used to it."
Understanding came over Ashley, and her heart hurt. "You're jealous? Is that 
it?"
"Of course not." He sounded angry at the suggestion. "Never mind, Ash. I have to 
go. Just thought you'd like to know I did okay on the bar."
She had more questions, but she needed an hour. Uninterrupted. 
"Congratulations." Her mind raced. "I'll call you tonight and we can talk 
longer, okay?"
He hesitated. "Sure. Reagan falls asleep by nine anyway." Ashley made a mental 
note not to forget the call. "Okay . . . well, we can talk more then, all 
right?"
"Yep. Have fun with Dayne and Katy."
Their good-byes were short. After Ashley snapped her phone shut, she realized 
that Luke hadn't asked her to tell Dayne hello. Just a clipped line about having 
fun with Dayne and Katy. Was it tension from taking the bar? Or was his mood 
entirely caused by the mention of Dayne? Ashley set her phone down. She would 
find out tonight. Since September 11, she and Luke had been closer than ever. 
Nothing would come between them now. She wouldn't let it.
She stayed behind Katy, turning right at the next light.
"Was that Uncle Luke?" Cole grabbed the edge of her seat and leaned forward.
"It was." She gave him a quick smile.
"Is he mad?"
"I'm not sure." Ashley reached behind and patted her son's hand. He was always 
so perceptive.
"Maybe he's feeling a little bit left out because of Uncle Dayne." Cole and all 
the Baxter grandchildren knew about him now. They hadn't gotten to really know 
him yet, but they knew
31 
he was moving to Bloomington. "Last year that happened to me. Remember?"
Ashley dreaded what was coming. "Because of Devin?"
"No, not him." Cole slid back in his seat. "I love that little guy."
"Good." She didn't need something else to worry about. "At school, you mean?"
"Yeah. Avery and me were best friends, and then Skyler came to school. Right 
away Skyler got all the attention, and the guys wanted him on their team for 
kickball. Even Avery." Cole's tone changed. "I was sad for a little while after 
that."
"Oh." Ashley pulled into the left-turn lane behind Katy. "And you think maybe 
that's how Uncle Luke is feeling?"
"Maybe."
Ashley checked the rearview mirror in time to see a grin spread across Cole's 
face.
"But pretty soon everything was good again because Avery remembered about me. Me 
and Avery are still best friends." "Like Uncle Luke and me?"
"Right." Cole leaned forward again. "Just make sure you remember him."
Ashley nodded. Sound counseling from an eight-year-old. "I'll do that."
They turned onto the two-lane road, and she checked her watch. By now Dayne 
would be parked behind the house waiting for them. Katy had no idea, and Ashley 
could barely stand it. Ever since her last conversation with Dayne she'd been 
looking forward to this moment, to seeing the surprise in Katy's eyes.
Ashley replayed that thought. Or was she really more anxious to see Dayne, to 
connect with the brother she'd missed out on knowing all her life? Maybe Luke 
was right. Was she so excited about finding Dayne's connection to them that 
she'd ignored Luke?
No, that wasn't why she was feeling this way. She was happy
32 
for Katy; that's all. And if the surprise gave her another chance to connect 
with her older brother, then so what?
They finally reached the house, and she followed Katy into the driveway. Katy 
parked near the front of the house, and Ashley pulled up beside her.
Katy was out of the car and waiting for Ashley by the time she unsnapped Devin's 
baby carrier. He was asleep, so she was careful not to wake him as she slipped 
the handle over her arm. She was adjusting the pacifier in Devin's mouth when 
Cole took his place next to her.
He looked up at the building. "Wow . . . that's the biggest house I've ever 
seen."
"Me too." Katy laughed and looked at the front door. "This is it." Her eyes 
sparkled, and she made a squealing sound. "What do you think?"
Ashley let her gaze wash over the wooden house. "Katy . . . it's perfect." She 
took a few steps to the side so she could see the entire front. "I have to 
include it in a painting after you fix it up."
"You think Dayne'll like it?"
Dayne! The house was so amazing that Ashley had almost forgotten. "Uh . . . yes. 
I definitely think so." She set off toward the left side of the house, forcing 
herself to take slow steps. "Show me the backyard."
"That's the best part!" Katy took the lead, and they walked to the front corner 
of the house.
As they did, the lake came into view, and Ashley noticed how special the place 
really was. "There's no view like this anywhere on the lake."
"I know." Katy was beaming. "That's what I thought."
They walked along the side of the house, and as they rounded
the corner, there on the edge of the dilapidated deck was Dayne. le wore khaki 
shorts and a casual, long-sleeved, white button-
down with a T-shirt underneath. For a single moment Ashley ,isWaS looking at 
Luke. They were that similar. And
33 
only then did she realize Luke was right. Because in that moment she wasn't 
thinking about Katy's reaction or how the two of them must be feeling. Rather 
she was thinking about herself and how right it was to be in the same place as 
her older brother.
Even for just a few minutes.
34 
35 
KATY WAS picturing the backyard the way it would look when it was renovated, 
imagining Dayne beside her on the back porch watching the sun set over Lake 
Monroe, when she turned the corner and saw him.
At first she thought she was seeing things. But her imagination couldn't account 
for the way Dayne stood and held her eyes, the way his face lit up as she came 
closer. And that could mean only one thing: he was really here; he'd flown in to 
surprise her. And now she couldn't breathe or talk or move.
Dayne winked at Ashley and Cole, but he came to Katy first. "You wanted me to 
see the house, right?"
Katy grabbed a quick breath and fell into his arms. "You're here." She breathed 
the words against his chest. "I can't believe you're here."
He held her but only for a few seconds. "It was Ashley's idea." He moved from 
Katy to his sister and pulled her into a hug. "Nice work."
Ashley grinned at Dayne, then at Katy. "Very nice, I'd say."
35 
36 
Cole took a small step toward Dayne. He seemed more shy than usual. "Hi."
"Hey, Cole." Dayne patted his nephew's shoulder. He peered into the baby 
carrier. "Wow . . . Devin's bigger in just a few weeks."
"I know." Cole smiled, more relaxed. "He's growing like a weed."
Dayne chuckled. "No question about that."
Ashley turned her attention to Katy. "So are you surprised?" Katy looped her arm 
through Dayne's. "My heart's finally beating again, if that's what you mean."
They all laughed, and Ashley seemed to take the moment as a cue. "Your house is 
beautiful." She caught Cole's hand and moved back a few steps. "Early dinner 
tonight at the Baxter house, like we talked about?"
"Can't wait," Dayne said.
Ashley took another step. "Okay, you two. Have fun." She pointed to the back 
door. "Just don't walk across any broken floorboards."
"We won't." Katy waved. "See you later."
"Bye!" Cole turned and started jogging toward the van.
Ashley fell in behind him. But not until she was gone around the corner, not 
until Cole's cheerful voice faded did the moment finally begin to feel real to 
Katy.
She turned and took hold of Dayne's hands. "Every time you do this it feels more 
like a dream."
"Get used to it." Dayne's eyes danced. "I took a private plane." He worked his 
arms around her waist. "If it's this easy, I might come once a week."
"Dayne . . ." She closed her eyes and pressed her head to his chest again. It 
was true-having him show up unannounced felt like a dream. But sometimes so did 
everything else about their relationship. As if maybe she'd only created the 
story in her head: Hollywood heartthrob Dayne Matthews stumbles onto a small3
37 
town Indiana theater, steps inside and watches fifteen minutes of a play, falls 
in love with its director, finds the faith he'd lost somewhere along the way, 
and asks the director to marry him.
But having him here like this, his arms around her . . . there was no doubt the 
story was real. Because Katy could feel his heartbeat against the side of her 
face, feel him breathing into her hair. She held on a little longer, then eased 
back. "When you're here like this I have no choice but to believe."
Dayne touched his lips to hers. "Believe what?"
"This." She held out her left hand and looked at the ring. "That it's all really 
happening."
"The house is unbelievable," he whispered against her face. His breath smelled 
faintly like peppermint.
"Thanks." They were still standing where they'd been when Ashley left them. This 
time Katy took the lead, kissing him shyly at first and then with a depth that 
made her pull away and catch her breath.
"It feels so good to be here. I don't know how I've stayed away this long." He 
brought his fingers to her face and kissed her longer this time, a kiss that 
told her more than his words could say about how much he'd missed her. When he 
withdrew, a smoldering passion shone in his eyes. "We could stand here like 
this-" he kissed her again-"until my plane leaves, and it wouldn't be long 
enough."
There were no words to describe how wonderful it felt being here with him. 
Kissing him gave her only a glimmer of what lay ahead after the wedding. "Then 
let's."
This time when their lips met, the feelings between them grew more intense. 
Dayne seemed to realize it first. He took a step back and gently put his hands 
on her shoulders. "Okay. . . about this house you picked out." He was 
breathless, the desire in his eyes deeper than before. He took her hand and 
turned to face the back of the house. "Why don't you give me the tour?"
Katy exhaled, steadying herself. "Good idea." This was one
38 
more thing she loved about her fiancC. He had a colorful past, but he treated 
her like a princess. He respected her completely. They'd drawn the line on safe 
ground, so there was never any question about things getting out of control.
They walked into the house through the back door, and Katy saw the place through 
Dayne's eyes. The door led to a great room, but the space was dark with only two 
small windows. Mold grew on one of the walls from the floor to the ceiling, and 
cobwebs hung from every corner.
Dayne pressed her fingers between his and gave a lighthearted laugh. "You 
weren't kidding. It definitely needs work."
"And maybe a few windows." Katy noticed that the linoleum was peeling in places. 
"And a new floor."
"Yes." He put his arm around her shoulders. "But I can see it, Katy." He turned 
and looked out the sliding door to the deck. "Once it's fixed up it'll be 
gorgeous."
"You think so?"
"Definitely." He gazed at her, and for a moment they were lost in each other's 
eyes. "But never as gorgeous as you."
Katy felt like she was walking on cotton candy as they moved from the great room 
through the kitchen and down a hallway into a laundry room. When they were 
finished with the downstairs they went up, careful to step over the two broken 
stairs. "Lots to do, huh?" She gave him a sheepish grin.
"It doesn't matter." He followed her toward one of the bedrooms. "If it isn't 
ready by Thanksgiving, I can stay with John He already offered."
"Good." She stopped him just before the bedroom door. Slic circled her arms 
around his waist and looked into his eyes. long as it's ready after the 
wedding."
He looked like he wanted to kiss her, but instead he retreated a step. "What's 
in here?"
The joy in her heart was so strong it made her dizzy. Her voicc fell a notch, 
and she heard the shyness in her tone. "Our room.
3
39 
They walked in together, and she heard Dayne take a deep breath. He stopped and 
put his arm around her waist. The former owners had skimped on windows 
downstairs but not here. An entire wall was made up of a series of three 
enormous sheets of glass, giving the master bedroom an expansive view of the 
lake. At one end of the room was a sliding door and beyond it a balcony that was 
sagging on one side.
Dayne released his hold on Katy's waist and took her hand. "Bob said this would 
happen."
"What?" Katy loved hearing about Dayne's missionary friend. He and his wife and 
kids would be coming to the wedding, and she could hardly wait to meet them.
"He told me God wanted to give me the desires of my heart- as long as those 
desires were lined up with His. That's why on my list of what mattered most I 
had God first. He's already done enough for me." He shrugged. "I guess now I 
want to leave this part-the desires of my heart-up to Him."
Katy touched his face. "And look what He's given us." "More than I could've 
imagined."
They finished touring the house, and when they found their way to the backyard 
again, Dayne looked at the house and nodded slowly. "It's possible, Katy. It 
could be ready by Thanksgiving." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. 
"Let's wait lor the inspection, but if the contractors here are anything like 
the ones in LA, you can make it worth their while to move quickly."
"I'll make some calls next week."
I be led her toward the edge of the bluff. "The stairs down to the water don't 
look real safe."
"But there's a path." She had dreamed of this moment, known that when he came it 
would happen exactly like this. The two of them walking through the house, 
imagining what it might be we day, what it needed to make the transformation 
complete. And then they would take a walk to the shore. She'd found the
40 path two visits ago. Itwound down the hillside, and though it was overgrown 
with weeds, she'd made it to the bottom without
Dayne led the way. "Out here, it doesn't even feel like Holly- wood exists." He 
was careful not to move too far ahead of her. "Not Hollywood or the paparazzi or 
the gossip of Tinseltown." He breathed deep. "Out here I'm just a guy in love 
counting the
And that's the way he came across the rest of the afternoon as they reached the 
water, took off their shoes, and walked barefoot along the beach for a mile, 
stepping over the occasional rock or piece of driftwood. They talked about the 
wedding plans and the press and his new movie. Katy told Da about the script for 
Cinderella. Everything was coming together for the fall perforBefore
they climbed back up the hill, he let go of her hand and waded into knee-deep 
water. "Wow. It's a lot warmer than the
And more private. But she didn't say so. She wanted to forget how careful they 
had to be on the be behind his Malibu home. All those days were behind them now. 
She moved toward him, and as she did, he leaned close to the surface of the lake 
and
"Oh no. Not this time." She made a move, intent on splashing But before she 
could get him wet, he started to run. "Okay,
She gave him an innocent look. "Don't worry, Dayne." She took slow steps toward 
him, her eyes never leaving his. "I won't get you wet. No paybacks from me-no 
sir." But just as she reached him, just as she went to push him, he lost his 
balance and slipped backward into the shallow water. With nothing to catch her, 
she fell forward and landed on top of him. Katy gasped as the water splashed her 
face and drenched her
FOREVER
voun
down the ds
she'd made Out here, it doe, areful
not to
mo
paparazzi or the here 'm just a came across the
took off their c ile
stepping
owe
talked about th ie. Katy told Da' was coming tog(
)ack up the hill, water. "Wow. It' it she didn't say
to be on the be .',re behind them eane
close to th water
at her.
e." She made a m I get him wet, hi lands. "You're ri,
iocent look. "IX him, her eyes tic ic
from me- .e went to push into the shallow ar
and landed c Tater splashed he
a problem.
days till his wedding."
mance.
ocean."
flicked a few drops of vvater at her.
him back.
okay." He held up his hands. "You're right."
41 
clothes. At the same time, Dayne propped himself up on one elbow and wiped his 
eyes so he could see. Katy tried to scramble free, but she couldn't get a 
footing and she fell on him again.
"Hmm." He grinned at her. "This could be interesting."
"Dayne!" Katy braced herself and pulled her knees up. She spit a mouthful of 
lake water at him, and they both laughed. "Help me!"
With a single motion, he smoothly flipped her onto her back, soaking the only 
parts of her that were still dry. He was on top now, though he used his arms to 
keep some space between them. He brushed his nose against hers. "It's easier to 
get up from this position."
"Is that right?" She splashed him with both hands, but before she could squirm 
free she realized that they'd never been this way, this close before. And even 
though it was an accident, she could understand how people with the best 
intentions could fall into temptation in a matter of seconds. The feeling was 
heady and different from anything she'd ever experienced.
He must've sensed it, because his expression changed. "I want to kiss you so 
bad."
"Me too." She swallowed and without meaning to eased her hand around his waist, 
against the small of his back. Suddenly, in a terrifying and scintillating rush, 
she wanted to forget every promise she'd ever made about staying pure. Every 
inch of her wanted him to draw closer. "Dayne . . ."
Under the gentle pressure of her hand, he lowered himself a fraction of an inch, 
then another fraction. But just when it seemed like they might both tumble 
toward a point of no return, Dayne closed his eyes. From the depths of him he 
groaned, but it came out as a single whispered word: "No." Then in a decision 
that looked like it took everything he had, he pushed himself up and away from 
her.
With his knees still in the sand, he sat back against his heels and reached for 
her hand. His sides were heaving from everything
42 
he must've been feeling. "I can't, Katy. I . . ." He rubbed the back of his 
neck, then found her eyes. "I gave myself a line." He clenched his jaw and 
stared at the sky above. There were blue patches now, the storm clouds breaking 
up. "No matter what I want, I promised God I wouldn't cross it."
Katy sat up and picked a piece of lake moss from her shirt. Her body screamed 
for more-more of him, more of his nearness, more of his kisses-but at the same 
time her heart pounded from how close they'd been. How close they'd come to 
turning a corner from which there would be no backtracking. God . . . I'm sorry. 
. . I never want to be this close again. Shame made her cheeks hot. "It'd be so 
easy."
"Yeah." He surveyed their surroundings. The lake formed a private cove at the 
base of the hill. There were no people or boats or houses in sight. He leaned 
over and gave her a single tender kiss. "I have a feeling we'll spend a lot of 
time down here." He helped her to her feet. "Just not right now."
Katy was more than impressed. Resisting the pull of the moment had taken all her 
resolve. But what about him? Staying pure was something new for Dayne Matthews. 
His determination to honor her was further proof of the depth of his love, his 
commitment. More than that, it was proof that he intended to live out his faith 
in every area of his life. Regardless of his past, he was telling her the truth 
when he said that he'd never loved like this.
She had no doubts.
They stood in knee-deep water, facing each other, the air around them silent 
except for the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. She hung her head. 
"I always felt . . . I don't know, better than other girls." She lifted her eyes 
to him. The guilt in her heart was so strong she was sure he could see it. "When 
I was in high school I made a decision to wait until I was married. A lot of my 
friends did too, but. . . over time, one by one, most of them gave in."
43 
He framed her face with his hands. "But not you."
"No." A breeze came off the lake and made a chill run down her spine. She wanted 
to take a step closer to him, but she didn't dare. "I always thought it was only 
a matter of will. Make a promise and keep it. That sort of thing." She studied 
him. "But just then . . . something came over me, Dayne. A part of me wanted to 
forget I ever made that promise at all."
"I know." He ran his thumb along her brow. "I felt the same way." He hugged her, 
but after a few seconds he reached for her hand and took a step toward the 
shore. A tender smile played on the corners of his lips. "That's why we're going 
back up the hill."
And that's exactly what they did, not looking back even for a moment. Katy was 
grateful too. Grateful to Dayne and to God most of all. Because if Dayne had 
turned around, if he had swept her into his arms and back down to the shore, she 
was no longer sure about one thing.
Whether she'd have the strength to tell him no.
44 
45 
DAYNE LED the way, and they reached the top of the hill in less than five 
minutes. He was still catching his breath from the scene down in the water.
Relief flooded him. Distance was a good thing. Only by God's strength had they 
avoided doing something they both would've regretted. Now that he was thinking 
clearly, now that his brain had the upper hand again, he had no intention of 
leading Katy astray. Even if she did look irresistible with the sun in her hair.
Dayne pointed to a patch of grass washed in sunshine. "Let's sit there." He 
wrung out the cuff on his shorts and gave her a wry look. "We can't go to the 
Baxters' looking like this."
She followed him and sat a few feet away. "How long do we have?"
"An hour. Dinner's at four." He put his hands behind him and leaned back. He 
loved the privacy they had here, loved being with her, talking to her without 
the threat of paparazzi or any of the craziness that came with his life. He 
studied the backyard and imagined it with a new deck and porch. "I see what you
46 
mean, how you can picture us here a year from now. Five years." He met her eyes. 
"Twenty years."
"Mmm. It's the perfect retreat, like the rest of the world doesn't exist."
He was quiet for a minute before he drew a slow breath. The sound of a passing 
car faded in the distance, and a gentle wind stirred the maples that lined the 
property. If they were going to share everything, then he needed to tell her 
what he'd been feeling. "Hey . . . I need to talk to you."
A ripple of concern showed in her eyes.
"Don't look like that." He reached for her hand. "It's not about us."
"Oh. I didn't think so, but . . ."
"Katy, you're perfect. This-" he waved his hand to encompass the lake and the 
house-"all of it is perfect." A sigh rattled loose from somewhere deep inside 
him. "It's about my job."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Your job?"
"Yeah, is that funny?"
"I guess so. Hearing you talk about it like that." Katy laughed, and the sound 
mixed with the breeze. "Like you're an engineer or a salesman and not, you know, 
the Dayne Matthews."
He made a face. "It's still a job, whatever way you look at it." He pulled his 
knees up and leaned on one of them so he could see her better. "Anyway, it's 
bugging me lately."
She waited for him to explain.
"The love scenes." He released her hand and stared at the expanse of water. He'd 
been thinking about this since that day in the canyon-the scene with Randi and 
her comment about wishing they could've done multiple takes. Now that he loved 
Katy, he was uncomfortable kissing anyone else. Even if it was all pretend. He 
sensed something change in Katy. "What are you feeling?"
She looked at the line of trees. When she spoke, uncertainty hung in her voice. 
"I don't know. I always figured the love scenes came with the territory."
47 
"And until a month ago you figured the two of us were finished."
"Right. I haven't had time to think about it." She shaded her eyes. "What 
brought it up? You and Randi Wells?"
"Me and her. Me and whoever they cast me with." He could hear the frustration in 
his voice. "My films always have love scenes. Some more than others."
Katy looked like she didn't want to ask, but now that he'd brought it up, she 
did. "How much in this film?"
"Not as much as some." He frowned and looked out at the water. "No bedroom 
scenes. But still . . ."
Katy was quiet. She plucked a blade of grass and turned it over in her fingers. 
"Makes me glad I've been here trying to get ready for Cinderella."
"And now all you can picture is Randi and me, right?" He knew the topic would be 
touchy. But there was no way around it. He had to tell her how he was feeling. 
"One love scene after another."
"I guess. It's not something I want to think about." She tucked her legs beneath 
her. "I can see where it would bug you."
"It does. A lot." He pictured the canyon scene. "I'm standing there in front of 
fifty people kissing another woman, and for the first time in my life it feels 
all wrong. Completely wrong."
She studied the ground next to her. "The Hollywood answer is obvious. Whatever 
happens on a set is simply acting, nothing more." She looked up. "But if that's 
true, then why do so many leads fall for each other during the course of 
filming?"
"Exactly." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I have no feelings for Randi. 
But I wake up every day missing you like crazy, and I spend the afternoons in 
the arms of a stranger. I don't like it."
A pair of eagles caught their attention at the same time, and they watched them 
dipping and soaring in wide, graceful circles. Dayne knew Katy wouldn't have 
asked him to change for her,
48 
wouldn't have brought up the topic. But it was eating at him more than he'd 
realized until now. Until he looked at it not only from his perspective but from 
hers.
"You're the star, but do you really have any control?"
"Not for a script I've already approved. Not for this film." He nodded slowly. 
"But for the next one, you know? And all the others after that."
"What could you say? I mean, look at you." The smoky depth he'd seen in her eyes 
earlier down at the lake was back. "The film industry will expect you to have a 
leading lady, and that means love scenes." She lifted one shoulder. "Maybe 
there's no way around it."
"I could ask for a clause saying no between-the-sheets scenes. That's what some 
people do." He raised his brows. "Most of them don't work for long, but I guess 
that wouldn't be an issue for me."
"No." Katy smiled. "I don't think so."
He sighed. "There's always going to be some of it, Katy. Until I move to the 
other side of the camera."
"Directing?"
"Yeah. Someday. Maybe after my contract's fulfilled." He'd been thinking more 
about it. An actor could only lend so much creativity to a film. A director 
could make or break it.
She looked like she didn't want to say much. "It's your career, Dayne. Your 
decision." She put her hand on his shoulder. "I don't question your loyalty for 
a minute."
"I can think of one way around the problem." His tone lightened.
"How?"
"You, Katy." He took hold of her fingers. Memories flooded his mind. Paparazzi 
chasing them through the parking lot at Malibu Beach and later down Pacific 
Coast Highway. The insane fan rushing from the bushes intent on killing Katy. 
But couldn't they figure out a way to work together even still? "We missed the 
chance before, but maybe you could be my costar." The idea
49 
was appealing. Especially since everyone would know by then that they were 
married.
She laughed quietly. "We'll have to see."
"At least you didn't say no." He tilted his face toward the sun. "My director 
says he'd love a chance to work with you."
"Really?" Katy looked surprised. She'd appeared in only one movie after all. A 
television special that never amounted to anything. "How does he know about me?"
"The audition film on you was amazing. Mitch Henry told every casting director 
in town."
"Wow." Her cheeks darkened. "I had no idea."
"So think about it, okay?" The possibility was already taking root. He and Katy 
in a film together? Their love for each other would make their on-screen 
chemistry far better than it had been when she auditioned the first time. He 
leaned back and stared at the distant clouds. Hadn't Katy told him she'd always 
dreamed of starring in a movie? Her privacy wasn't at stake anymore; she was 
already a familiar face in the tabs. Working with Katy would be magical, a 
chance for her to share his world and show Hollywood what she was capable of.
Katy slid a little closer to him. "It could be fun."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Good." He released her hand and stood. "Down the road a few months, I might 
have to remind you of that." He felt the cuff of his shorts. "Well . . I'm 
getting drier."
She ran her fingers over her shorts. "Me too."
He helped her up and pulled her close. "We won't have a lot of alone time 
later." He gave her a shy grin. "Which could be a good thing."
"Yes." The color returned to her cheeks.
"No time for long good-byes."
She put her arms around his neck. "Or swims in shallow water."
50 
"Or that." He smiled, but after a few seconds his expression grew serious. "Hey, 
Katy . . . thanks for understanding." "About your job?"
"Yeah. You never complain. That means a lot."
"I understand. And I feel better now that we talked about it."
He removed one hand from her waist and brushed a piece of her hair behind her 
ear. "I love the house." He ran his fingers along her jaw and slowly brought his 
lips to hers, then breathed the next words close to her ear. "But I love you 
more."
They kissed again, but this time the restraint that had always kept them in line 
was back in place.
After a few seconds, Dayne turned and studied the house one last time. "Take 
pictures before they start the work. One day we won't believe it ever looked 
like this."
Katy smiled and he felt it reach to the farthest places in his soul. The sun 
beat down on them, all traces of the storm gone, and he couldn't imagine saying 
good-bye in just a few hours.
They walked toward their cars, but before he opened her door he stopped and 
tenderly took hold of her hands. "Pray with me, Katy."
She smiled and closed her eyes.
Dayne took a moment before he began. When he did, his voice was thick with 
emotion. "I just want to thank You, Lord. This place, the view, the lake. It's 
perfect and already it feels like home." He tightened the hold he had on her 
hands. "Please, God, let the time go quickly. You know how I feel, how all I 
want to do is leave everything behind and marry Katy tomorrow. Help me be 
patient, and help us stay strong-" there was a smile in his voice-"every time we 
wander into shallow water. In Christ's name, amen."
"Amen."
As they climbed into their separate cars, Dayne was overwhelmed by God's mercy, 
His goodness. He was engaged to a woman who knew him-the real him. A woman who 
loved him
51 
more than life, one he honored and respected. And over the next several months 
she would create a home out of an old pile of rotting wood, a place where they 
could build a future together, where one day they would raise a family. All of 
that and the possibility of starring in a movie with her someday down the road. 
The future was better than any movie he'd ever made.
A wave of sorrow hit him, because in a few hours he'd be gone again. But not for 
long. One day soon these short trips would be a thing of the past. Now all they 
had to do was count down the days until then.
52 
53 REIF Mr
CHAPTER SEVEN
BAILEY F LANIGAN could hardly believe they'd been invited.
Dayne Matthews was in town, and he and Katy were having dinner with his birth 
family-the Baxters. But Katy had asked the Flanigans to come too, and it was all 
Bailey could do to keep from calling everyone she knew and telling them. She was 
having dinner with Dayne Matthews!
Her three adopted brothers were in Indianapolis at a soccer tournament, and 
Connor was spending the week camping with the Shaffers. So it was just her 
youngest brother, Ricky; their parents; and Bailey driving to the Baxter house.
In the backseat of her parents' SUV, Bailey was texting Tim Reed, her friend 
from CKT. I'm having dinner with Dayne Matthews, she wrote.
His answer was quick. No way!
I am. . . well, not just me. :) She tapped out her response. My family and the 
Baxters. Oh, and Katy.
After half a minute her phone beeped three times. She flipped it open and read 
his message. I wish I were there.
54 
She smiled and began tapping the keys. Don't worry. . . . I'll get you an 
autograph. She sent the message.
Tim had been with her last year when Dayne was in town filming Dream On. The two 
of them had sneaked Dayne a message from Katy, and he'd treated them like 
equals. He'd even told Tim that he was doing a good job acting in the play.
Three more beeps. She opened her phone and peered at the screen. Not because of 
Dayne . . . because of you.
Bailey sucked in a quick breath. "Tim, my friend," she whispered, "what's all 
this?"
"What?" Her mother looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, nothing." Bailey smiled. "Just talking to myself."
Her dad caught her eye in the rearview mirror. "Who're you texting?"
"Tim Reed." She made a funny face. "He wishes he was going to dinner with us. 
That's all."
Her mom turned her attention to her father. "Did you bring the salad?"
"Of course." Her dad reached over and patted her mom on the knee. "Don't be 
nervous. Dayne's a regular guy, Jenny. You said so yourself."
"I know." She smoothed a wrinkle in the sleeve of her blouse. "It's one thing to 
have a few words with him once in a while when he comes looking for Katy. But 
dinner? Just shake me if I don't act like myself."
"He's moving here, right?" Ricky hadn't said much since they left home, but now 
he sat a little straighter. He was eight, and his blond hair was bleached almost 
white from a summer of swimming and boating on the lake.
"He is, buddy." Their dad gave him a quick smile.
Ricky tossed his hands in the air. "So what's the big deal?"
Bailey stared at her brother. He clearly didn't understand. "That's okay. You 
can play with Cole, Mrs. Blake's little boy."
55 
"I will. I met him before." Ricky settled back in his seat. "He says his papa 
has a fishpond."
"There you go." Bailey's phone beeped again. She opened it and saw another 
message from Tim. Did you leave me?
She tapped out her response. Predictive text was so much faster than the ABC 
method. No. . . but we're almost there. . . ttyl. She hit Send and closed her 
phone once more. Not that she'd really talk to him later, but she might text 
him. Lately they'd been talking through text almost every day-this after six 
months of hardly hearing from him.
Bailey was sixteen, about to start her junior year at Clear Creek High School, 
but if she lived a hundred years she didn't think she'd figure out Tim Reed. He 
was a year older than she, and since January he'd been in a serious relationship 
with a girl from his church. Now, though, he was single and acting like he had 
feelings for her. Which wasn't possible. Not when everyone in CKT knew he still 
had feelings for his old girlfriend.
Bailey sighed and stared out the window. Besides, even if Tim was over the girl 
from church, the timing was all wrong. Bailey was seeing Tanner Williams, the 
quarterback at Clear Creek, the guy she'd known since fourth grade.
Things had changed around Christmastime. He'd called her one night and bared his 
heart the way he'd never done before.
She could still hear his voice. "I can't do this anymore, Bailey."
"What?" She was washing her face, and she had him on speakerphone.
"I can't . . . I can't be your friend. It's too hard."
Bailey had rubbed the cleanser into her cheeks and stared at the phone. "Tanner, 
what in the world do you mean?" He groaned. "Take me off speakerphone. Please."
"Fine." She clicked a button and held the phone to her ear, leaving just enough 
room so that the white cream on her cheeks didn't touch the receiver. "Why can't 
you be my friend?"
56 
What he said next nearly knocked her off her feet. "Because I'm in love with 
you." He made an exasperated sound. "Am I that hard to read?"
"Urn . . . let's just say you'd be good at poker." She'd tried to laugh, but her 
heart was beating too hard. She reached for the washcloth that hung over her 
shower door, but as she did, she knocked over her facial toner. "Yikes." She 
grabbed a towel, sopped up the toner, and in the process dropped the phone into 
the sink. "Ugh!" She kept her voice too low for him to hear. "I'm a wreck." She 
stood the bottle right side up again. Then she grabbed the phone from the sink. 
"Tanner? You there?"
"You're not making this easy for me."
Suddenly she realized exactly what he was saying. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes." He mumbled something. "Bailey, I want you to be my girlfriend. That's all 
I've ever wanted."
She hadn't thought she was ready to have a serious boyfriend, and her mom 
agreed. "Better to be friends for now, Bailey," her mom always told her. So 
that's what she told Tanner. But he had been adamant. He couldn't be her friend, 
not anymore. Not when every time they passed in the hall or hung out with the 
same group of friends all he could think about was her.
His revelation had caught her off guard, and by the end of that week she agreed 
to be his girlfriend. They could say they were going out, but he had to promise 
that things wouldn't get too serious. "No matter what happens in the future, I 
want to be your friend, Tanner. That matters more than anything."
They'd been an item since then. Not like her friends who were getting so serious 
with their boyfriends. So far Tanner hadn't even kissed her, and since they'd 
had their driver's licenses for less than a year, neither of them was allowed to 
have other teens in the car.
But she sensed Tanner getting anxious. The last time they hung out at her house, 
he took her up on the back balcony once
57 
It was dark. They held hands and talked about his football camp. Before he 
hugged her good night, he asked if he could kiss her.
"I'm not ready," she told him. "Not yet."
The truth? She didn't want to disappoint her parents, and even more, she was 
afraid. Afraid she'd make a mockery of what she stood for. Her faith and her 
decision to wait until she was married. But she was also afraid of her feelings. 
Once she kissed Tanner, everything would change. Maybe she would feel obligated 
to him, or maybe she'd fall so hard for him there'd be no turning back. Already 
their phone calls weren't as fun as before. He spent ten minutes every time 
asking her who she'd talked to, who'd been texting her. That sort of thing.
Whatever kissing him might do to their relationship, she wasn't ready to find 
out.
Bailey glanced out the window just as her dad pulled into the driveway of the 
Baxter house. She hadn't been here before, but the house looked warm and 
inviting, right in the middle of an enormous grassy yard. They parked and went 
inside.
Dayne gave her a big smile when he saw her. "How's my favorite CKT dancer?"
She opened her mouth, but it took a few seconds before she found her voice. 
"Good, thanks."
"Katy tells me you're going to drama camp in August."
"Yes, sir." She felt herself settle down. "Maybe you can come to the show."
"I'll be there." He shared a private look with Katy. "I already promised."
Bailey wanted to keep the conversation going. How many kids at school could say 
they'd actually talked to Dayne Matthews? "When you move here, maybe you could 
give me and Connor tips. You know, for acting and stuff."
Katy nudged Dayne. "Tim Reed's still talking about the compliment you gave him 
when you were here on location."
58 
"Definitely." Bailey raised a single eyebrow at Dayne. "He used to be humble, 
but now . . ."
The three of them laughed. Someone called Dayne into the kitchen. Bailey watched 
him go, and only then did she exhale. Katy was right. Around them, Dayne was 
like any other guy. Except he was the country's most famous movie star. She 
stifled a giggle as she took the seat across from him at the table. No matter 
how down-to-earth he was, her friends would never believe this.
Over dinner, she studied the interactions between the Baxters and Katy and 
Dayne. John Baxter seemed proud of his oldest son, anxious to help him find a 
place in the family. Katy had told them that, and from the way John asked about 
Dayne's latest film it was clear she was right. Ashley Blake was the same way. 
She sat on the other side of Dayne and hung on every word he said.
But most of all Bailey got caught up in watching Katy and Dayne. They weren't 
into all the touchy-feely stuff. At least not here. They held hands before 
dinner but nothing more. No close hugs or kissing. Bailey liked that. It was 
obnoxious when two people acted that way in public. Like her mom always said, 
"If you're acting that way in front of people, we don't have to wonder what 
you're doing behind closed doors."
What was beautiful about watching Katy and Dayne was the way they looked at each 
other. When Katy's eyes met his, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. And 
when Dayne looked at her, his expression held something Bailey had never seen on 
the big screen. She sighed to herself as she studied them.
After dinner Ricky went upstairs to watch Finding Nemo with Cole. The rest of 
the group moved into the living room, where they talked about the wedding. And 
that made everything about the night even more romantic.
"So, you've found someone who can help keep it a secret?" John Baxter looked 
happy at the thought.
59 
"I think so." Dayne put his arm over the back of Katy's chair. "We'll see."
"In other words," Katy said, "we won't let a photographer or a helicopter ruin 
the day. That's for sure."
The sound of voices around Bailey faded. How lucky Katy was-being engaged to 
Dayne, planning a wedding, and knowing everything about her future. All her life 
Bailey's parents had reminded her of the Bible verse Jeremiah 29:11: -For I know 
the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to 
harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' "
God had good plans for her; she believed that. But it seemed like forever until 
she'd actually know what those plans were. One far-off day would she be having 
this same conversation- talking about wedding plans and honeymoons-with Tanner 
by her side? Or would it be Tim Reed? Or maybe even Cody Coleman, the guy from 
down the street? His mom had been arrested a few weeks ago on a drug charge, and 
now she was in jail, so Bailey's parents had agreed that later this week Cody 
could move into the downstairs guest room. At least for his senior year.
"He can come on one condition," her parents had told her the night before.
Bailey knew where the conversation was headed. "Nothing but friendship between 
the two of us."
"Right." Her mom's voice had been kind and understanding, but her eyes looked 
worried. "I know how you feel about that boy. Never mind Tanner or Tim Reed. 
Cody's always caught your eye, honey."
"That's just it." She gave them a sad smile. "I think he knows that we're . . . 
you know, different. Like from different planets in terms of our backgrounds and 
stuff."
The lines on her dad's forehead relaxed a little. "Exactly. Cody's a nice kid, 
and we want to help him. But that's as far as it goes." Bailey smiled to herself 
now. She'd told her parents the truth.
60 II
FOREVER
Cody might still take her breath away, but she wasn't interested in him. They 
were way too different. So maybe it would be someone completely new, someone she 
hadn't met yet. Maybe she'd go to CKT's summer camp in August and there'd be a 
new guy. Someone tall and strong, with a good sense of humor and a voice that 
would drop her to her knees. Someone like Dayne Matthews.
But as the evening wound down, as they said good-bye and piled into their SUV 
for the ride home, a shadow fell over Bailey's heart. None of the guys she knew 
were anything like Dayne. They were fickle and confusing and sometimes a little 
too possessive.
She stared at the starry sky over Bloomington. This wasn't the time to feel down 
about love. Even if nothing felt quite right about the guys in her life. Because 
one day. . . one day they would grow up. That's what her dad said. And then 
she'd find the hope and future that God had planned for her. Someday she would 
even find forever.
Just like Katy Hart.
The house was empty, and John Baxter lay in bed, too much on his mind to sleep. 
He had enjoyed every minute of the dinner with Katy and Dayne, but that didn't 
ease the tension brewing all evening just beneath the surface.
Ashley and Landon and the boys had arrived an hour early- so Cole could look for 
frogs near the pond, Ashley said. But they caught John off guard because Elaine 
was still at the house. She had helped him bake an apple crisp for the evening, 
and she was still cleaning up the kitchen when Ashley walked in.
He felt the awkwardness of the moment again. Ashley had stopped cold, her eyes 
drilling holes into Elaine's back.
His friend must've heard the door open, because she said, "John, when did you 
say the others would be-?"
"Now." Ashley moved slowly toward the table and set her
61 
things down. She found a stale smile. "We're here now." She put the baby carrier 
on the table and looked in on a sleeping Devin.
"Hi, Ashley." Elaine smiled. "I helped your dad fix dessert."
"I didn't . . . didn't know you were coming for dinner."
"I'm not." Her smile faded. "I'm almost finished here."
Landon came up beside Ashley, kissed her cheek, and gave her a look. John knew 
what the look meant. It was a warning, a plea. John wanted to add his vote. The 
moment was strange enough without Ashley's attitude.
John almost left the kitchen with Landon and Cole, but he couldn't do that to 
Elaine. Instead he crossed the room and took the spot next to her. He grabbed a 
dish towel. "I'll dry."
Finally, after what felt like half an hour, Ashley took Devin from his carrier 
and went into the next room.
When they were alone, John leaned his forehead on Elaine's shoulder. "I'm 
sorry." He lifted his head and saw the pain in her eyes. A pain she was trying 
to hide. "Ashley hasn't acted like that since she came home from France."
"It's okay." Elaine still had soapsuds halfway to her elbows. She looked down at 
the sink and ran the scrubber around the inside of the mixing bowl. "She loves 
her mother; that's all. And I'm not her."
"That doesn't excuse her for being rude." Defeat rang in his tone. He and Elaine 
were spending more time together. Taking walks and fixing an occasional meal at 
his house or hers. "I'm allowed to have friends."
What happened next was the reason he was still lying awake.
At his mention of their being friends, Elaine slowly found his eyes again. 
Sadness shone in her expression. "Friends, John?"
"Of course." His answer was quick. "You're my friend. Ashley and every one of my 
kids will have to figure that out."
She nodded, and after a moment she turned her attention back to the sink. 
"You're right. And she will. She'll figure it out."
A few minutes later they'd finished the dishes and Elaine had
62 
left. But John couldn't shake the feeling in his heart. Not then or for the rest 
of the evening. Elaine's entire attitude had changed when he called her his 
friend. At first he'd been sure about what she meant. "Friends, John?" As if she 
wanted to make sure he saw her that way-as a friend and not merely an 
acquaintance.
But even before she left, he hadn't been so sure. And now the meaning of her 
words seemed even clearer. "Friends, J ohn?" As if to say, "Is that all?" After 
a year of talking about their families and finding joy in their hours together, 
was that all he saw her as? A friend?
Even that wasn't so surprising. Of course she would wonder. She'd been widowed 
for many more years than he had. But the hardest part was this: the conversation 
at the sink had made him wonder too. He was always quick to call her his friend, 
but was the reason so he wouldn't let his heart wander beyond the line of 
friendship?
Or was it too late for that?
John closed his eyes, and the quiet words came from the broken pieces of his 
heart. "Elizabeth . . . where are you?" He stretched his hand across the empty 
place in his bed. "How can you be gone?"
His feelings for Elaine, the tension he felt from Ashley the rest of the 
night-he never asked for any of it. This wasn't how these years were supposed to 
unfold. Elizabeth was supposed to be sitting next to him at the table, where 
tonight she would've held his hand and shared an occasional look that only the 
two of them could understand. Her eyes would've sparkled as she watched her 
family, amazed that finally . . . finally their oldest son had found his way 
home.
She was supposed to be here to marvel over Devin's birth, Cole's fascination 
with tadpoles, Jessie's bravery on the knee board this summer, and Hayley's 
miraculous progress since her near drowning. He spread his fingers over the 
sheet. Elizabeth was supposed to be here. Beside him.
63 
As he fell asleep, he couldn't worry about Ashley or the doubts on her face 
whenever she looked at him tonight. He couldn't worry about Elaine or the 
meaning of her statement at the kitchen sink or where his actions were taking 
him in his friendship with her. His heart was completely and totally filled with 
the love of his life, the one he still missed with every breath.
His precious Elizabeth.
64 
65 411.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LUKE BAXTER wasn't sure which was higher--the heat or the humidity. But it 
didn't matter. Whatever the combination, he and his wife, Reagan, had picked a 
lousy afternoon for a stroll through Central Park with their kids. They had a 
double stroller these days-a place for Malin, less than a year old, and a spot 
at the back for three-year-old Tommy, who usually tired of walking after ten 
minutes or so.
It was four o'clock on the last Saturday in July, and Tommy had fallen asleep 
half an hour ago. They'd taken their usual route, south through the park toward 
the pond and the zoo, past the horse-drawn carriages and the sketch artists and 
hot-dog vendors and back again. They were on the return leg of the walk, their 
pace slower than usual. The walkway was crowded with tourists, creating a 
frustrating obstacle course for the occasional jogger or speed walker who dared 
attempt the park on a summer weekend.
Five minutes had passed since either Luke or Reagan had said anything to each 
other. Luke had the stroller, pushing it forward
66 
the same way he wanted to push everything about their life forward. The results 
of his bar exam, his first official position as an attorney in his law firm, a 
place for him and Reagan and the kids outside her mother's uptown Manhattan 
apartment. All of it.
He glanced at his wife, but she didn't notice. Reagan looked tired, her blonde 
hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, dark circles under her eyes. Kids did that 
to you. Luke was tired too.
Reagan grabbed her water bottle from a holder near the handle of the stroller 
and took a long drink. She broke the silence first. "You sure nothing's wrong?"
Luke narrowed his eyes and kept walking. "Yep." He stretched his neck, first to 
the right, then the left. Why did she have to ask that? Every time they were 
together lately Reagan asked the same thing. He picked up his pace. Maybe it 
wasn't the heat and humidity. Maybe the dense, suffocating cloud was only the 
tension between them. What felt like tension, anyway. It reminded him that he 
wanted to be closer to Bloomington. At least he had wanted that before he found 
out Dayne was moving there.
He looked through the trees and caught a glimpse of a residential tower. One of 
dozens that lined the park, much like the one where he and Reagan and the kids 
still shared an apartment with Reagan's mother. Maybe that was the problem. 
Living with her mother. She was a soft-spoken woman, and she meant well. But 
what sort of husband was he, unable to provide a home for his wife and kids 
after more than two years of marriage?
Reagan's mother had hinted about it the other day. "How did the bar exam go, 
Luke?" She was setting the table, and she raised her eyebrows just enough. That 
subtle raise that suggested weariness and doubt at the same time.
"It went well." He felt Reagan looking at him from across the room. Now that 
he'd finished law school and taken the test, both women seemed to hold their 
collective breath, as if his entire worth would be proved by the passing or 
failing of this single test. "I think I passed it. I'll know in November."
67 
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
The conversation faded from his mind. He massaged the muscles at the base of his 
neck. So much tension. Wasn't he supposed to feel better now that the bar was 
behind him? Malin stirred and her pacifier fell from the stroller. He stopped, 
and Reagan pulled up beside him. Luke picked up the pacifier, checked it, and 
dusted it off on his shorts. Then he gave it back to his daughter. With two kids 
consuming all their free time, the days of washing off a dirty pacifier were 
long over.
Luke remembered his conversation with Ashley Thursday night. He'd been sitting 
in the living room of the Manhattan apartment. "Thanks for getting back to me. I 
didn't think you'd find the time."
Ashley had hesitated, and when she spoke confusion rang in every word. "Is 
something wrong, Luke? Something I don't know about?" She let loose a single, 
sad-sounding laugh. "It seems like every time we talk lately you're mad. Angry 
at Dad or angry at the time you spent studying for the bar. Even grouchy at me."
"I'm fine." He didn't want to talk about his anger. He wanted to talk about 
Dayne Matthews. The wonder guy. Oldest Baxter sibling. Firstborn son. His 
brother. And how it was that overnight Luke had been relegated to a name on a 
list. Brooke, Kari, Ashley, Erin, and Luke. The other Baxter siblings. The 
not-sofamous kids of John and Elizabeth.
Ashley had sounded excited about her meeting with Katy Hart and Dayne. "The 
house is going to be unbelievable-nicest place on the lake for sure."
"Yeah. Great. I'm sure he won't have trouble affording it." She didn't hide her 
shock. "Luke Baxter! What's gotten into you?"
He had tried to explain it to her. Dayne hadn't called since the trial, hadn't 
even formally acknowledged that they were brothers, that the news was true. 
Rather, all communication from him came through his dad or Ashley. Dayne was 
busy filming, and
68 
Luke was busy cramming for the bar exam. Maybe that was the problem. The two of 
them hadn't connected. Or maybe the turmoil inside Luke had nothing to do with 
Dayne.
Out along Fifth Avenue a car passed, blaring heavy rap. The bass notes rumbled 
through his body, reminding him that at least some areas of his heart were 
empty.
Reagan tried again. "Everything still on for Thanksgiving?" He shrugged. "If I 
can get the time off."
"You work at a law firm." Reagan sounded impatient. "There won't be a lawyer in 
New York City working over Thanksgiving weekend. Of course you can get the 
time."
"Maybe."
She stopped, exhaled hard, and faced him. "We're married, right?"
Luke planted his feet a yard from her. If she wanted to fight it out here in 
Central Park, fine. That's where they'd fight it out. "Yeah, so?"
"So that means I depend on you." She raised her voice, not enough to be yelling 
but louder than before. A few people stared at them as they passed. She pointed 
at the stroller. "Tommy and Malin depend on you." She took a step closer. "And 
all you've given us in the past few weeks are one- or two-word answers." She 
seemed to notice where they were and the scene she was making. She lowered her 
voice to a hiss. "Why won't you let me inside, Luke?" She spread her fingers 
over her heart. "I love you, remember?"
Luke shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and stared at the ground. 
"Let's sit down."
Reagan waited a beat, probably gathering her emotions. "Fine."
He pushed the stroller off the walkway to an empty bench a few feet away. Luke 
checked, but Tommy and Malin were sleeping. He parked the stroller and sat down. 
Reagan took the spot beside him. For a long time he only looked at her, studied 
her
69 
face, her weary eyes. She'd never looked that way before-back when they lived in 
Bloomington and life looked like it would roll out like a beautiful tapestry. 
"It's hard, isn't it?"
"Yes." She stared at her hands. "Harder than I thought."
Luke lifted his eyes to the trees and squinted, trying to see back to those 
long-ago days. Back before Reagan's father was killed in the World Trade Center 
collapse. Before Reagan got pregnant and moved to New York City. Before his life 
became consumed with studying minute facets of the law and taking turns staying 
up all night with a colicky Malin. Back before diapers and bottles and burp rags 
and feeding schedules.
Before Dayne Matthews.
He turned to Reagan. "My parents always made it look so easy. Love and laughter, 
fun times and family dinners, one season after the next. Year after year after 
year."
"Hmm." She kept her distance. "Mine too. And they didn't have their housing 
handed to them."
Anger rose to the choppy surface of his soul. "See? There it is." He waved his 
hand, dismissing further talk. "Forget it, Reagan." He started to stand up. 
"You're always undermining me. Making me feel like a freeloader."
"Wait." Instantly her expression changed to one of remorse. She applied a gentle 
bit of pressure on his knee. "Stay, Luke. I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way."
He gritted his teeth and settled back down. "It doesn't matter how you mean it. 
You bring it up all the time. You're tired of living with your mom, you're ready 
to branch out, and you're anxious for me to get a real job."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." He leaned hard against the wooden bench. "It's implied 
every time we talk." Defeat replaced the anger. "I know you. I can hear it in 
your tone."
Ten or so kids in red T-shirts on bicycles were approaching, laughing and 
chanting something unintelligible about soccer.
70 
Reagan waited until they passed. "I know you too, Luke. This isn't only about me 
or your job. It's about Dayne Matthews." She hesitated. Right?"
He wanted to shout at her, wanted to tell her no, this wasn't about Dayne. It 
was about them and how they'd managed to slip into a rut in just two and a half 
years of marriage. He opened his mouth to say so, but the words wouldn't come. 
Slowly he slumped forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He stared at the 
ground and exhaled long and hard. "Maybe it is."
Around them the sound of conversations and people walking and traffic on the 
boulevard faded.
"Luke-" Reagan's tone softened-"talk to me."
"It's wrong; that's all." He lifted his chin just enough so she could hear him. 
-All my life I'm the only son, and then in a single phone call everything 
changes."
"Everything?"
"Yes." He met her eyes. "Everyone's talking about Dayne, and now . . ." Emotions 
welled up in his throat, and he struggled to talk. He looked at the space 
between his feet and coughed. When he had more control he finished his thought. 
"Now Dayne's moving to Bloomington and I can picture it." He sat up, gripped the 
edge of the bench, and turned toward Reagan. "Dayne and my dad getting close, 
making up for lost time while I'm busy making a life for us here in New York."
She covered his hand with hers.
"This-" he motioned toward the busy walkway and the towering residential 
buildings and even toward her-"this wasn't how I pictured life, Reagan." He 
spoke through a clenched jaw, struggling to keep his feelings in check. "I was 
going to get some city experience and then find a wife and settle down in 
Bloomington. After that I was going to have kids." His eyes filled as he looked 
at her. "And my mom was going to be there to love my kids and be the best 
grandma ever."
The sudden hurt in her face was so strong it took his breath. "Is
71 
that what you think? That this isn't how you pictured your life?" She stood and 
put her hands on her hips. "Well, guess what? This wasn't how I pictured mine 
either." She did an exaggerated laugh and spun so that her back was to him. Then 
just as fast she turned and stared at him. "I was an athlete once upon a time, 
remember? I was supposed to play sports through college and earn a degree. I 
wanted to work in marketing or publicity or broadcast journalism." She wasn't 
loud, but her tone shouted at him. "After that I was supposed to get married to 
a guy who had his life figured out." She paused and gave him a pointed look. 
"Then somewhere down the road we'd have a family, and I could stay home."
He hung his head. She'd made her point. He earned so little as a legal clerk 
that she was forced to work part-time as a secretary so they'd have enough money 
to pay their share of the utilities and groceries. Her mother was still covering 
rent or they never could've afforded to live in Manhattan. They needed to live 
in Manhattan because that's where Luke's firm was located. And it was a good 
firm. It had paid Luke's way through law school and was a member of Meritas-the 
most respected legal network in the world.
Reagan wasn't finished with him. "Go on and hang your head. But don't you dare 
sing me your sad song about how life was supposed to turn out." She leaned a 
little closer. "You're getting your dream. Big-shot lawyer and all." She'd never 
sounded so angry. "But what about me, huh? Do you ever step outside your pity 
party long enough to ask that question?" She jerked back and took hold of the 
stroller. "I'll see you at home." She set off down the path without looking 
back.
Luke thought about chasing her down, but he didn't have the energy. Besides, it 
was too hot and muggy. He closed his eyes and leaned back. Everything was wrong. 
They'd made one mistake; they'd given in to temptation on September 10, 2001. 
The day before the terrorist attacks. And now they were paying for it with 
everything they had. He'd lost and she'd lost, and even now
72 
there was no shining light at the end of the tunnel. He had to wait four months 
to hear about the bar, and then if he passed, it would still take another month 
before he had a significant paycheck from the firm. He was easily a year away 
from having the sort of steady income that would allow them to branch out on 
their own. A year of seeing Reagan's mother raise her eyebrows and wonder when 
her son-in-law was going to figure out how to support her daughter and 
grandchildren.
Meanwhile, Dayne Matthews drew what, ten million a film? Fifteen maybe? Three 
films a year. The figures were mind- boggling. No wonder Dad was proud of him, 
anxious to make a connection with him. Not that Dad would've been impressed by 
income, but Dayne was beyond successful. He'd already made such a presence in 
their family that the girls had practically forgotten Luke existed. Even Ashley, 
the sister he'd always been closest to. Well, almost always. There were those 
awkward years after she returned from Paris pregnant with Cole. But since the 
terrorist attacks, they'd been closer than ever.
Until Dayne.
Luke stood and ambled along the path, slower now. What was the hurry? Reagan 
would be at home with the kids, warming up a bottle for Malin and fixing dinner 
for the rest of them. Her disgust with him would linger long after a talk like 
this one, clouding the air in the apartment and suffocating him, reminding him 
that he and Reagan might never have the lives they had separately dreamed about.
He was almost to the part of the walkway where he would veer off to find the 
crosswalk, five minutes from home, when he spotted the new receptionist from the 
firm. She was jogging in his direction. He watched her and felt the attraction. 
She was tall with dark hair, twenty-one or twenty-two at the most. Hannah, 
right? Wasn't that her name? She wore pink nylon running shorts and a T-shirt. 
He slowed his steps even more.
All the guys in the office were talking about her, how she was
73 
unattainable, a rare beauty even in a city like New York. Luke swallowed hard 
and glanced at the shrub ahead on the right, the one that signaled his path 
home. Then just as quickly he looked at Hannah again.
She didn't notice him until she was a few yards from him. Then her eyes lit up 
like Times Square, and she bounced to a stop. "Hey . ."
"Hey." Luke forced himself to keep his gaze at eye level. "You're one of the 
brave ones, huh? Jogging with the tourists on a weekend."
Her forehead was damp from running. She wiped the back of her hand across it and 
laughed. "I guess so." She checked her watch. "I've got worship practice tonight 
at church, and I'm busy tomorrow-singing at both services." She gave him a shy 
smile. "It's hard to get my workouts in now that I'm at the firm. I never have 
any free time."
He held out his hand, almost as an afterthought. "I'm Luke. I'm not sure we've 
met officially."
She smiled. "I know who you are." She took his hand but didn't linger any longer 
than was appropriate. "I'm Hannah. Nice to meet you officially."
Without thinking, he took a step back. He'd caught her eye more than once since 
she started working, and always they exchanged a smile. If he slid his chair to 
the far side of his desk and leaned to the left, he could see her at her 
workstation. Once when his door was open, he overheard Hannah's coworker saying 
that Luke Baxter was the one who looked like Dayne Matthews. Hannah's cheeks had 
been red for ten minutes after that. But something in her eyes had always told 
him that she wasn't looking for a backstreet affair or a friend to flirt with. 
Now he knew why. She was one of the good girls. The kind of genuine girl he 
might've asked out on a date if his entire life wasn't already decided for him. 
"Well, hey . . ." He took another step back. "I'll let you get back to your 
run."
74 
75 1111.11MIE I'
FOREVER
"Luke . ."
He stopped.
"Are you married?" Her eyes were enormous, transparent. The sort of eyes a guy 
could get lost in.
"I am." He sensed a discomfort he wasn't familiar with. Somehow knowing that his 
intentions toward Hannah hadn't been right from the beginning.
Something changed in her eyes-the raising of a wall maybe. "I wasn't sure." No 
visible regret, no obvious curiosity over whether Luke's marriage was a happy 
one. No mention of his resemblance to Dayne Matthews, movie star. Just a closed 
door. Period. She wiped her forehead again and lifted her lips in a sensible 
smile. "See you at the office." With that she jogged away.
Luke realized something. He'd been holding his breath. Barely taking in enough 
oxygen so he wouldn't faint right there in front of her. He exhaled and headed 
for the path that would take him home. With each step his heart thudded hard 
against his chest, chiding him, warning him, shouting at him. Not because he'd 
done anything wrong or given Hannah even the slightest hint of impropriety. He 
hadn't winked at her or let on about the troubles he was wrestling with, and he 
hadn't asked her anything personal. He made no insinuation whatsoever toward an 
affair.
No, his heart was pounding for another reason. Because for a few minutes on a 
blazing hot Saturday afternoon he had done the one thing he never imagined 
doing.
He'd considered it.CHAPTER NINE
J ENNY F LANIGAN was scraping a spatula through a pan of scrambled eggs when 
Bailey came running down the stairs. It was the end of August already, and they 
were half an hour from leaving for CKT teen camp, the first one Bailey and 
Connor could attend together.
"I have nothing yellow!" Bailey made an exasperated sound. She tore through the 
kitchen toward the downstairs laundry room. "I'm on the yellow team, and I don't 
have a single yellow T-shirt."
"Bailey, wait!" Connor came running down the stairs. "I found the box of 
costumes. There's tons of yellow in there."
"Really?" She spun around and jogged back through the kitchen and up the stairs 
behind him.
Katy rounded the corner at the same time. "I can't believe it." She grinned at 
Jenny. "I'm actually packed before Bailey."
"Yeah, but your color's blue." Jenny giggled. "Practically everything you own is 
blue."
"Good point." Katy laughed. She pulled a loaf of bread from the fridge. "I'll 
make the toast."
76 
-Thanks."
Like always, once they checked in at teen camp the kids would meet with their 
teams. Then throughout the week they would share games and Bible teaching and 
grueling rehearsals. At the end of the week they'd perform a shortened version 
of a Broadway musical. This year the show was The Wiz. Jenny had already talked 
to Bailey and Connor about the casting, same as she did before every CKT show. 
Just because Katy lived with them didn't mean they'd have a better shot at a 
lead part. And placement in the ensemble was often more fun than a starring 
role. Neither of her oldest kids seemed too worried about the casting.
Jenny flipped a section of eggs and diced it with the edge of the spatula, then 
turned off the heat. Her kitchen sink butted up against an enormous window that 
overlooked the backyard. She peered out and smiled. Jim and the four younger 
boys were out back working on the old gazebo, a worn-out structure that Jim had 
intended to restore ever since they moved in. Finally yesterday, Jim bought the 
supplies he'd need-paint, roofing shingles, a few spindles, and a box of nails. 
The boys started work early since the day threatened to be one of the hottest of 
the summer.
Jenny angled her head, studying her husband as he supervised their sons. Each 
one had a piece of sandpaper and was stationed at a section of the railing that 
made up the lower part of the gazebo.
You're so good at keeping Jim busy, Lord. Thank You.
Just last night Jim had been restless again, sorting through the messages from 
half a dozen pro football teams looking to hire him. This time of year the 
routine was always the same. NFL teams in need of a new coach would sift through 
the list of retired or out-of-work coaches and see who was interested.
Every year the offers were more tempting.
"It'd be good for the boys, seeing pro football up close like that," Jim had 
told her. "Every one of them is interested in football."
TO
77 
"Not Connor."
Jim had been quiet for a moment. "No. Not Connor."
"Honey-" she entered these waters carefully-"Bailey and Connor would be lost 
without CKT, and we both know there are only a handful of states that offer the 
program."
"I know."
"Connor has five more years. Then we can talk about it, all right?"
He narrowed his eyes. "It's just, the other boys would love it."
"They love what you do now." She'd kept her tone gentle. "Have you seen them on 
your sidelines, Jim? Clear Creek High's the big time, and you're their biggest 
hero."
He smiled. "It's not that. . ."
"I know." She'd kissed him on the cheek. "You'll be back in the NFL someday. And 
we'll say good-bye to everything here in Bloomington and move ahead with full 
hearts." She kissed him again. "Just not yet, okay?"
The excitement in his eyes had dimmed a little. "Okay."
But when she woke up, Jenny had the sense that it was harder for Jim to say no 
to the pro teams this time. That's why the gazebo project was a good one. She 
gave Jim a last look. At the same time, she heard someone enter the kitchen and 
turned around.
Cody Coleman waved at her and Katy. "How are you ladies this fine morning?"
"Running ragged." Katy had buttered twelve pieces of toast. She didn't look up, 
and her next comment was directed at Jenny. "The boys haven't eaten yet, right?"
"Right." Jenny kept herself from smiling. Katy was doing a good job discouraging 
Cody's recent advances. She had told Jenny privately that Cody's flirting 
sometimes got on her nerves. Jenny had agreed to have Jim talk to the young man 
about his behavior. "So-" Jenny wiped her hands on a kitchen towel"how're the 
wedding plans coming?"
78 
Cody clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Here we go again." He 
planted himself a few feet from Katy. "How can you marry Dayne Matthews-" he 
thumped his chest-"when you could have me?"
Katy took her plate and sat several seats from Cody. "It's hard to imagine."
Cody shrugged and snagged a plate. "Have it your way. I'll be here waiting when 
things don't work out."
Bailey darted down the stairs again, Connor close behind her. They had sleeping 
bags slung over their shoulders and heaving duffel bags along in front of them. 
"The costume box worked!" She dumped her things at the foot of the stairs and 
hurried into the kitchen. "Connor's brilliant."
"Yeah, only now she'll have better stuff for the color-wars contest than me." He 
made a face. "Me and my big mouth."
Bailey set her phone on the counter and hurried to grab a plate and some eggs. 
"We can't be last; I'll get the worst bunk."
Cody set his fork down. "You two make me dizzy." He grinned at Katy. "I thought 
camp was supposed to be fun."
Jim walked through the back door, the four younger boys in tow, just in time to 
hear Cody's comment. "Fun? Are you kidding?" He chuckled. "Two-a-days start next 
week, Coleman. Let's see what you think about fun after that."
Cody exhaled hard. He looked at Connor. "About that big mouth of yours? I can 
relate."
Jenny leaned against the kitchen sink and studied her family. The boys were 
diving into the eggs, heaping their plates, and Bailey and Connor were deep in 
conversation about the games most often played at CKT's teen camp. Jenny smiled. 
Her home was overflowing with conversation and kids and more love than she 
could've imagined once upon a time.
She set her dish towel down and walked around the counter to the spot between 
her two oldest kids. "Toothbrushes?" "Check," Bailey and Connor answered in 
unison.
79 II ell
A16
KAREN KINGSBURY
"Pajamas?"
"Check." The tone in their voices told her they were used to the last-minute 
list of necessary items for a trip.
"Bibles?"
"Definitely." Connor raised his finger and smiled at her. "I'm winning the sword 
drill, hands down."
"He has no idea." Bailey turned and made a face in Katy's direction. "Newbies 
never win the sword drill."
"Sword drill?" Cody swallowed a mouthful of eggs. He raised his eyebrows, 
curious. "Someone wanna clue me in here? I thought it was a drama camp."
Jim laughed. He took his plate and sat next to his star football player. 
"Christian groups have these contests. See who can find a Bible verse first. As 
long as I can remember they've called it a sword drill."
"Oh." Cody took a bite of toast.
"Let's just say it's a good thing Dad doesn't have sword drills for the football 
team." Bailey lifted her chin and shot a haughty look at Cody. "Otherwise you'd 
be running lines from morning to night."
"Bailey." Jenny kept her tone lighthearted, same as the mood in the kitchen. But 
she understood. There was a little more to Bailey's statement than simple 
teasing. Ever since Cody had been paying attention to Katy, Bailey had been put 
out. The digs she sent Cody's way were nearly constant. Jenny waited until she 
had Bailey's attention and used her eyes to convey the deeper seriousness of her 
warning. "Be nice."
"Yeah, be nice." Cody leaned around Jim and stuck his tongue out at Bailey. 
"Some of us didn't spend our summers at church camp, okay?"
Bailey glared at Cody and returned the gesture.
Before Jenny could continue the checklist, Bailey's phone sprang to life, and a 
song began to blare from the tinny speaker. Something about holding on to every 
moment. Bailey snatched
80 
her phone and hurried out of the kitchen into the dining room to answer it.
Jenny wanted to follow her, to listen to her end of the conversation, but she 
resisted. Lately Bryan Smythe had been calling, showering Bailey with flowery 
compliments and brazen proclamations. Last night after his call, Jenny had found 
Bailey lying on her bed. Jim was in the living room with the boys, talking to 
them about fall sports and whether they wanted to play soccer or football.
"I'm so confused." Bailey sat up. Her shoulders sagged forward. "I'm dating 
Tanner, and I still like him. I've liked him since fourth grade. But every time 
we talk, I wait for him to ask me about dance or drama-something that's 
interesting to me."
"Hmm." Jenny didn't want to steer her daughter in any one direction. But she 
needed to help her see the whole picture. "Tanner's never seen you dance, honey. 
He's never been to one of your shows."
"Exactly." She exhaled hard.
"But . . . you've never invited him to a performance either." Jenny sat 
cross-legged on the bed and leaned her elbow on her knee. "Right?"
"Of course not." Bailey had looked horrified. "I'd be so embarrassed having 
Tanner in the audience. He's used to seeing me in a cheerleader's uniform, not 
in a costume acting onstage."
"Okay, so all I'm saying is you can't judge him for not asking about dance and 
drama. Not when you haven't allowed him a window into that part of your life."
She ran her fingers along the bedspread between them. "True."
"So which part's confusing?"
Bailey lifted her chin. "The Bryan part."
"Bryan Smythe from CKT?"
"Yes." Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality. "He's tall and dark and broad 
shouldered. And no one can sing like Bryan. No one."
81 
"He called you again, didn't he?"
"Yes." She fiddled with the promise ring on her left hand, the ring Jenny and 
Jim had given her on her thirteenth birthday as a symbol of her determination to 
stay pure. "Tim Reed's flitting around talking to every girl he comes across, 
but Bryan . . . Bryan's crazy about me, Mom."
Jenny reminded herself not to react too strongly. She enjoyed these talks with 
Bailey, and she couldn't jump to conclusions. But to Jenny something about Bryan 
Smythe didn't feel genuine. "What did he say?"
"Well, he asked me if I was still with Tanner, and I said I was. Then he told me 
that one day-even if he had to wait a long time-I would see the light."
"See the light?"
"You know, like dump Tanner and go out with him. He said he'd be right there 
waiting for me, because one day-" her eyes got big-"he's going to marry me, and 
then I'd belong to him forever." She leaned in, her voice full of excitement. 
"Isn't that amazing?"
Jenny winced. She wanted to tell her daughter the entire conversation was 
ridiculous. Bailey and the guys she knew were too young to talk about anything 
so important. But if it felt real to Bailey, Jenny knew better. She had to take 
the discussion seriously. "Dump Tanner? I don't know. Something about it sounds 
awfully callous, honey."
"I know." She straightened, more serious again. "Those were his words. I'm just 
saying, at least he's pursuing me. My talks with Tanner are so . . . I don't 
know. . . so simple. 'How's baseball?'; 'Good.' 'How's your family?'; 'Fine.- 
She groaned. "Where's his passion? It's like he's barely alive sometimes."
Jenny's memory of last night's conversation faded as Bailey returned to the 
kitchen. Her eyes shone brighter than before, and there was a spring in her 
step. She looked at Katy. "Bryan's going to teen camp too. I guess he signed up 
at the last minute."
82 
"Good." Katy stood and rinsed her plate in the sink. "The more guys, the better 
the show." She looked over her shoulder at Bailey and Connor. "I think it'll be 
a strong cast."
"Great," Connor mumbled. "Tim and Bryan in the same show? There goes my chance 
at a lead."
Katy pretended not to hear him, but Jenny stepped in. "That's the wrong 
attitude, buddy."
Connor rebounded quickly. "I know. Sorry." He cleared his plate, rinsed it, and 
stuck it in the dishwasher. His tone improved almost instantly. "You're right. 
Anyone can win a part on any given day."
"Exactly!" Katy grabbed her suitcase and sleeping bag. "The kids and I will load 
the Suburban."
"Five minutes and I'll be out there." Jenny watched them grab the gear and head 
out to the garage.
Cody finished at the same time and headed for his room downstairs. "Workouts at 
ten today, right, Coach?" he called over his shoulder.
"Ten and two for you, Coleman. After last year, your two-adays can start this 
week."
"Ugh." He disappeared down the hallway toward his room. Jenny came up behind Jim 
and put her arms around his shoulders. "You doing okay?"
He swiveled his barstool to face her. "About the coaching stuff?"
"Yeah." Jenny eyed the boys. They were busy at the far end of the bar, comparing 
notes on who'd eaten the most toast. She turned her attention back to her 
husband. "If it's really on your mind, we can talk about it."
"No. You're right. The older kids need the stability. I won't even think about 
it until next summer, okay?"
Jenny was overcome with a combination of relief and anxiety, and she tried not 
to let either show. Only one more year in Bloomington? She loved this city, her 
involvement with CKT,
83 
and her relationship with the other parents. She loved the rolling hills and 
open farmlands and the proximity to Indiana University, where they could see 
theater and sporting events, and she loved their recent connection with the 
Baxter family.
One more year? What if that's all they had? Bloomington was the perfect place to 
raise a family, and the thought of ever leaving put knots in Jenny's stomach. 
But for Jim she would've moved to the moon and somehow figured out a way to 
enjoy it. After all, he had pulled out of the NFL for her. She could pull out of 
Bloomington if it meant seeing him do the job he loved.
She kissed him and searched his eyes. "You're sure? You love coaching. I know 
that."
"I am coaching." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Clear Creek High 
needs me."
She rubbed the tip of her nose against his. "I love you, Jim Flanigan."
"I love you too."
"Yuck." Ricky, their youngest, wrinkled his nose and set down his piece of 
toast. "I'm never getting married. All that yucky kissing."
"I'm getting married." Shawn raised his fork in the air. "The sooner the better. 
That way I can love her longer."
His brothers turned on him.
"Sic k. "
"Gross."
Shawn pierced the air with his fork again. "Of course, by then I'll run as fast 
as a cheetah. If she wants to kiss me, she'll have to catch me first."
Jenny's heart melted. Shawn, the oldest of their kids adopted from Haiti, was 
always the tenderhearted child. Tenderhearted and obsessed with animal facts. 
She could hardly wait to see what God did with that combination in the years to 
come.
"All right, guys." Jim maneuvered his way around Jenny. "Let's finish eating. 
The gazebo's calling us!"
84 
Jenny gently took hold of his arm. "I'm leaving. The camp's on the other side of 
Lake Monroe-at the retreat center. I'll be back in a couple hours."
"Be safe. Tell the kids I love 'em."
At that instant, Bailey and Connor appeared and piled on top of their dad.
"We couldn't leave without saying good-bye." Bailey planted a kiss on her 
father's cheek. "Pray for us, okay?"
"I will." Jim chuckled and hugged Connor. "Keep an eye on your sister."
"I will."
Jenny waved at Jim and the boys and then put her arms around the shoulders of 
Bailey and Connor. "Let's go. You'll wind up sleeping on the floor if we don't 
hurry."
"True." Bailey hurried her pace. "I call front."
"Katy's got the front," Connor pointed out.
And with that they made their way to the Suburban in the garage, the adventure 
of teen camp just an hour away. And as the bantering continued, as Katy chatted 
with Jenny about Dayne Matthews and his struggles with his current film, as 
Bailey talked to Connor about Bryan Smythe and Connor guessed about whether 
Sydney or Chelsea would be on the blue team, Jenny couldn't help but be grateful 
for one very wonderful thing.
No matter what the future held, they still had one more year in Bloomington.
Katy was glad for the distraction.
CKT teen camp was one of the most anticipated events of the summer, and this 
year's group figured to be the best ever. She would roll up her sleeves and dive 
in, working alongside the other counselors to make sure they somehow had enough 
time
85 
for all the activities scheduled. Katy was heading up the blue team, and her 
close friend Rhonda was in charge of yellow.
Beyond that they had a new guy joining them-Aaron Woods, a twenty-four-year-old 
youth pastor from a church on the north side of Bloomington. He'd called in 
February asking how he could help, and Katy had checked his references. He had 
played football at Oregon State University and had an impeccable resume. He'd 
been a speaker at several youth church camps. Katy had him slated for games and 
the evening talk.
Even so, she'd be busy from early morning until late night. Which meant she'd 
have less time to worry about Dayne and the final scenes he was working on with 
Randi Wells this week. The movie was finished, and the early buzz predicted it 
would be a huge hit. Maybe Dayne's biggest. But the director wanted them to 
retake a few of the love scenes. More kissing, more togetherness. More of 
everything he thought they'd done so well. Dayne planned to argue that what they 
had was already perfect. Decisions on the various shots would be made later 
today.
Katy's conversation with Jenny dropped off, and Jenny turned the radio up. The 
song wasn't on the Christian station, but it was a popular one by Switchfoot: 
"Dare You to Move."
Katy stared out the window and lifted her eyes to the clear blue sky over 
Bloomington. Anxiety nipped at her heart. More passionate love scenes between 
Dayrie and Randi? The thought formed a picture in her mind, one she couldn't 
dismiss. If only it were Thanksgiving already. He would be ready to move to 
Bloomington, and she would be wrapping up Cinderella. November was just three 
months away, but it felt like an eternity.
The song says it, Lord. Like the enemy is daring me to move, to try and keep on 
going when the man I love could very well spend the week in the arms of another 
woman. She kept, her prayer silent, between her and God. I don't want to worry, 
and I don't want to be jealous. I know Dayne's heart belongs to inc. But 
please.. . let him
86 have influence over the clirector. He's trying to do the right thing,
She heard no immediate answer, but she felt a sense of know- ing deep within 
her. God would take care of the situation with Dayne. She felt herself relax. 
The Lord would go before her fiance, and all week long God would go before her, 
too. They had work to finish before they could rriove forward with their wedding 
plans. And God would help them get things done in a way that brought glory to 
His name. Dayne's meeting with the director, her work with the teens-God would 
be there through all of it, one step at a time. He had brought them this far. 
Certainly He would see them through to Thanksgiving.
FOREVER
lirector.
He's try] is morning.
ate answer, but 5 )01 would take ca relax. The Lor lg God would g )re they could 
n d would help
th
to His name. a the teens-God ne He had roll ;ee them througl
Father. Go before him this morning.
87 
CHAPTER TEN 
DAYNE MATTHEWS stood outside the director's door five minutes before their 
scheduled meeting. The rest of the cast didn't know about the talk they'd 
planned for today. But Dayne had no choice. All last week he'd dreaded the 
retakes scheduled for this morning. Ross wanted more passion, but why? When 
they'd shot the scenes the first time, he'd been thrilled with what they'd 
caught on film.
There had even been rumors on the set last week that the director was going to 
up the ante, offer them a hefty bonus if they'd agree to partial nudity or a 
steamy shower scene. Dayne wasn't doing either, no matter what was offered. And 
if Ross demanded the scenes, he'd simply walk off the set. His agent could work 
out the details.
He knocked on the director's door, and a voice inside said, "Come in."
Dayne entered and shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms and drew a long 
breath. "We need to talk."
"Fine." Ross seemed relaxed. He gestured for Dayne to sit down. "I want your 
input, Matthews. You know that." Dayne took the seat opposite the director and 
gripped the 
88 
89 
chair's arms. "It's about the retakes. Why more passion? I don't get it."
Ross stood and walked around his desk. He flashed one of his laid-back grins. 
"You look uptight, Matthews. Something wrong at home?"
"Nothing's wrong." Dayne knew better than to rush ahead. His request had to be 
rational, not based on emotions. He crossed one leg over the other knee. 
"Remember when we shot the love scenes? You thought they were amazing. So why 
change them?"
Ross leaned against the edge of his desk. "More is better. It's the industry 
trend. You should know that. More steam, more passion. We reshoot, throw in a 
few shower and bed scenes, the tabloids get wind of it, and all of a sudden half 
of America can't wait to see what edgy level of acting you and Randi are 
bringing to the picture."
It was the answer Dayne expected. He nodded, thoughtful. "What about the other 
industry trend? The cleaner the film, the more money it makes."
Ross tilted his head. "True." He allowed an easy laugh. "But with you and Randi, 
we make money either way."
"Okay, here's the thing." Dayne planted both feet on the floor. "I have a 
problem with making the scenes hotter. We do that and we change the whole 
genre." He waved his hand in the air, trying not to let his frustration show. 
"It goes from being a date movie to being an edgy project. And when that 
happens, we make less money. It's that simple." He worked to keep his composure. 
"At this point in my career I can't afford to go backward."
"Is that right?"
"Yes." Dayne felt a twinge of guilt. He could get his way with this argument, 
but it wasn't the entire truth. His faith, his dedication to Katy-those were the 
real reasons he was uncomfortable with heating up the love scenes. But if he 
said so, Ross would never take him seriously again. Hollywood didn't look fondly 
on a principal actor or actress making requests for morality's sake. All acting 
was considered art, regardless of the lines it crossed.
KAREN KINGSBURY
Ross looked at him for a long time. "You may have a point." "I do." Again he 
felt like he wasn't saying enough. God. . . they'll think I'm weird.
"No one lights a lamp and hides it in ajar." The verse sliced through his 
conscience. He'd read it at home last night after talking to Katy. He'd been 
sitting on his balcony, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, when he found the 
Scripture. As he reread it, he could almost hear God Himself saying the words. 
Standing right in front of him and making the point.
The commentary on that verse in his study Bible was even more hard-hitting. 
Below it in a small shaded box was a paragraph titled "Never Enough Time." It 
detailed a young man who had understood God's mandate to be an example, to let 
the light within him shine for those around him. But the man kept quiet about 
the Lord day after day. "Someday, God," he'd say at night when he prayed. 
"Someday." But one day the guy was on his way home from work when an 18-wheeler 
beside him lost control. In a flash, the man's life ended and the light he had 
always intended to shine was put out.
Dayne had shivered when he read the story. Everything about his life was finally 
going right. He was engaged to the woman of his dreams, he had plans to leave 
Hollywood, he'd found his birth family, and they had welcomed him into their 
lives. Even the tabloids didn't bother him as much. The idea of having it all 
end in an instant was sickening.
Then and there he had promised God that he wouldn't wait, that he would shine 
the light of Christ's truth and grace whenever he had the chance. Dayne 
understood the score. He'd been given a tremendous light when he accepted Christ 
as his Savior. But what had he done about it since then? Sure, the light had 
guided him to make the right decisions about Katy and his connection with the 
Baxters. But what about his role as a movie star? Had he mentioned God in any 
interviews or shared more than a passing acknowledgment about faith with his 
costars?
90 
And now here he was, hiding the light again. He swallowed hard. "The movie's 
good the way it is. It'll be huge; everyone knows that."
The director gave him a wary look. "This isn't about that Indiana woman, is it?"
Before he could stop it, the easy answer tumbled across his lips. "It's acting. 
I'll make the film work, whatever it takes." He tightened his grip on the chair 
arms. "This time I think cleaner, sweeter, works better. It'll sell better."
The director straightened and made his way slowly around the desk and back to 
his seat. "I see your point." He jotted something down on a notepad. When he 
looked up, his expression said his decision had been made. "We'll leave it as it 
is. No more passion, nothing steamy. But let's retake the entire street scene, 
the one at the middle of the film. I want you and Randi closer to each other. 
Get the audience anxious for your first kiss a few scenes later."
"Fine." Dayne stood. "That'll work."
"I know." Ross wrote something else on his pad. He grinned at Dayne. "Everything 
you do works. That's why this film is going to be huge."
Dayne thanked Ross, but when he was out in the hall, when the door was shut 
behind him, he leaned hard against the wall and closed his eyes. He'd had the 
perfect chance to be a light, to tell the man the truth. That God couldn't 
possibly bless a film that was passionate and steamy merely to feed the prurient 
interests of a select percentage of their audience. It would fail because it was 
wrong.
Instead Dayne had taken the low road, the easy way out. The fact that he'd won 
brought little comfort in light of the opportunity he'd missed.
He opened his eyes in time to see Randi Wells enter the hallway. She smiled when 
she saw him. "Hey, gorgeous."
"Hey." He straightened and faced her. "Talked with Ross."
91 
"About?" She reached him, leaned up, and kissed his cheek. The sort of greeting 
that was common in Hollywood.
"The retakes. He agrees with me." Dayne slipped his hands in his pockets. "The 
film has enough passion already."
"Oh." Disappointment cast shadows on her expression. She touched his chin and 
let her finger drag softly down his chest. "I was looking forward to the 
changes."
Here it was, another chance. But the more familiar words were out of his mouth 
first. "We want a hit, right? Wasn't that the goal?" He smiled at her the way a 
brother would smile at his petulant younger sister.
"Of course." She lowered her chin, giving him her famous pout. "The steamier the 
better, right?"
Dayne pursed his lips. "Not anymore, Randi. Clean's in. Besides-" he crooked his 
finger and touched it gently to her cheek-"better to have the audience aching 
for the first kiss than covering the eyes of the kids when things get too hot."
Randi thought about that for a minute. Suddenly she dropped the silly, flirty 
behavior and took on the seriousness that made her an actress in demand. "True. 
As it is, everyone who sees it will be practically desperate."
He nodded to the director's door. "That's what I told Ross." "Hmm." She thought 
for a few more seconds. "Yeah, good call, Dayne. I like it. So what'll we work 
on today?"
Dayne told her, and all the while she maintained her professional demeanor. But 
before she left she elbowed him. "Too bad about the change. Really. I was 
looking forward to today."
He didn't have to ask what she meant. The look in her eyes told him enough. He 
smiled at her, keeping the air between them light. "I'll have to make it up to 
you."
"Oh yeah?" She touched his arm. "Meaning what?"
He took her hand and slowly moved it back to her side. "Meaning lunch Friday. My 
treat. Before I fly out."
Something in her expression changed. "To Indiana again?"
92 
"Yes." He studied her. "Howie things with your husband?" She held his gaze, but 
her lip quivered just a little. "Not good." "I'm sorry."
"That's okay." She sniffed and started walking. He fell in beside her. "We 
lasted longer than most, I guess." She kept her pace slow, and she looked at 
him, the kind of look that said whatever she was about to tell him, she was no 
longer teasing. "What about you and Miss Indiana? Think you'll make it longer 
than three or four years?"
He didn't hesitate. "I know so."
She stopped. "You sound so sure."
"I am." Here was another chance to be a light. He held his breath and plunged 
ahead. "We both have our faith, Randi. Something Hollywood's forgotten about." 
The words felt beyond right as he spoke them. Like the light inside him was 
screaming to get out. "We've made a promise to put God first."
She looked doubtful. "And you think it'll be enough to keep you together?"
"Yes." He imagined Katy sitting beside him on the lawn outside their home, the 
fixer-upper on Lake Monroe. He smiled. "Forever."
"Well--" Randi started walking again, her gaze straight ahead-"if you won't 
spend the day filming steamy love scenes with me, then the least you can do is 
take me to lunch on Friday." She glanced at him. The sadness in her expression 
was still strong. "Maybe we can talk about forever over a couple of turkey 
sandwiches."
Dayne laughed. "Deal."
The camp was only five hours old, and already Bailey's head was spinning. She'd 
won the lead role of Dorothy, and Connor was one of four kids who would wear 
yellow T-shirts and act as a
93 
moving yellow brick road. But that wasn't what made her mind dizzy.
Tim Reed had the part of the Tin Man, and Bryan Smythe was the Scarecrow. That 
meant every scene would involve the three of them. Only how was she supposed to 
handle that? Tim had been around for a long time, a friend more than anything. 
If she was honest with herself, she'd had a crush on him since their first CKT 
show. But Bryan. . . everything about him was smooth and deliberate.
She'd have to call her mother. Talking to her mom always helped her sort through 
tough situations. She remembered how the morning had gone. Katy had asked them 
to take their places. "Tin Man on one side of Dorothy. Scarecrow on the other. 
Link arms. You're both supposed to think the world of Dorothy. Ready. . . 
places."
Tim had taken one of her arms, but Bryan made sure he caught her eyes as he came 
up beside her, closer than necessary. "Who said acting was work?" Katy was 
giving directions to the four kids representing the brick road, so Bryan leaned 
in and continued. "I could get used to this spot, Bailey. I mean it."
"What?" Tim looked at them. His expression said he hadn't picked up on Bryan's 
comments.
"Nothing." Bryan winked at her. "Some things aren't supposed to be shared."
They were on a break now, and Bailey needed more than fresh air and water. She 
needed perspective. The moment she sat down on top of the picnic table outside 
her dorm, her phone rang. She set her feet on the bench and looked around. Cell 
phones were against the rules except on breaks and for a brief period at night. 
She glanced at the caller ID window. It was Tanner Williams. She flipped her 
phone open. "Hello?"
"Hey . . . I didn't get to say good-bye."
Her heart melted. Tanner cared more than she had given him credit for lately. 
"That's okay. It was a busy morning."
94 
"I should've come by last night. I was working with my dad, throwing the ball, 
getting my accuracy down. That sort of thing."
"Oh." Did he even know what camp she was at? "I guess you'll be ready to lead 
the team when school starts."
"Hopefully." His voice was tender. "We have a team meeting tonight, but I had to 
call. You're at church camp, right?"
She bit her lip. Hadn't she told him that the end of August and first part of 
September were for CKT? She checked the time on her phone. Two minutes till 
break was over. She held the phone back to her ear. "Yeah, church camp. It 
finishes on Saturday."
"And next week I have two-a-days."
At that moment, across the field, Bryan Smythe noticed her. He locked eyes with 
her and closed the gap between them.
Tanner cleared his throat. "So, can we go out Saturday night or something?"
Bryan reached her and covered her knees with his hands. "Break's almost over," 
he whispered near her ear. "Who's on the phone?"
Bailey waved him off. "Saturday night? Uh, maybe . . . I'm not sure what's 
happening after . . ."
"Saturday night?" Bryan's voice was a gentle caress, one that sent shivers down 
her spine.
She pushed him away and tried not to giggle.
"You still there?" Tanner didn't sound frustrated, just confused. He didn't know 
that she was at a drama camp or that Bryan Smythe even existed, so he had no 
reason to sound concerned.
"Yeah, sorry."
Bryan grinned and took the spot next to her. He slipped his arm around her 
shoulders and whispered into her ear once more. "Tell lover boy I said hi."
Tanner was waiting for an answer, so Bailey said, "Saturday night could work. I 
don't finish up here until late. How 'bout I call you Thursday or Friday?"
95 
"Okay." Suspicion crept into Tanner's tone. "Everything's good, right? Between 
us?"
Bailey shaded her eyes and looked out across the field. She spotted Tim Reed 
surrounded by a group of girls. She tried to focus. "Yes, Tanner. Everything's 
fine."
Bryan leaned to the side and studied her appreciatively. "Very fine, I'd say."
She covered the receiver and gave him another playful push. "Stop," she mouthed. 
"I'm serious."
"Okay, then." Tanner sounded bewildered. As if something really might be wrong 
but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Call me later, I guess. I was 
thinking of you; that's all."
"Me too." She closed her eyes because it was the only way to keep Bryan and Tim 
from crowding her thoughts. "I'll talk to you soon."
As soon as she hung up, she pushed Bryan harder than before. "That wasn't nice." 
There was laughter in her tone. "What if he would've heard you?"
"I almost asked if I could talk to him." Bryan reached for her phone. "In fact, 
maybe I'll call him back, because Saturday's my night. We wrap up the play and 
you and I go out for pizza."
She hid her phone behind her back and shook her head. "I have a boyfriend, 
Bryan. What part of that can't you understand?"
He moved closer inch by inch. "The part that knows I'm crazy about you, Bailey. 
Obsessed even." He came so close that she could feel his breath on her face. 
"I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."
She stood up and created distance between them. "It does" She tossed her hair 
and took a step back. But even as she did, she could feel her eyes dancing. 
"Good work today, by the way. I love your solo."
"Thanks. And no one could play Dorothy but you. Your dancing is amazing." He put 
his hands behind him and leaned back,
96 
appearing comfortable with himself. "About the Saturday night thing-have it your 
way. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."
She gave him a final smile and turned and walked toward the auditorium. Behind 
her, she could hear two girls approach Bryan, their voices high-pitched and 
flirty. She looked over her shoulder, but he wasn't paying them any attention. 
He'd started walking back, the girls on either side of him. But his eyes were 
still on her. He waved in her direction.
She ignored the gesture and grinned to herself. Everyone said Bryan Smythe was a 
player, that he could pick up any girl anywhere in record time. But he didn't 
seem like a player to her. More like a sensitive, talented guy who would've 
walked across burning coals for her.
Near the auditorium door, Tim Reed caught up with her. His group of admirers had 
apparently gone inside. "Hey, I wanna talk to you." His expression was serious.
"About what?" Bailey checked the time on her phone. "Break's over."
"I know." He glanced at Bryan and the girls making their way across the field 
toward the auditorium. His eyes found hers again. "It's important."
Bailey sighed. Tim had always been this way. Interested in making his opinion 
known but never interested enough to pursue her. "Fine.' She crossed her arms. 
"What?"
"Come here." He took her wrist and led her around the corner of the building. 
When they were alone, he said, "Bryan Smythe's making a fool of you. Can't you 
see that?"
She rolled her eyes. "He is not. We're friends, nothing more."
Tim let out an exaggerated laugh. "That's not what he's telling the guys. He 
says he promises that in less than a month you'll be broken up with Tanner."
Bailey made a face. -He didn't say that. He knows I'm not breaking up with 
Tanner."
"Yeah." Tim exhaled hard. "Not yet. But he's turning the
97 
charm on so thick you can't see straight. It's obvious, Bailey." He lowered his 
voice and looked at her, to the deep places reserved for those closest to her. 
"Be careful; that's all I'm saying. The guy's a player."
"I can see that." Her answer was quick. "Anyway, you should talk. She looked 
back at a group of kids walking across the lawn. "You have more followers than 
Bryan."
Frustration filled Tim's expression. "Never mind. I'm just trying to warn you. 
The guy's no good." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You deserve better. That's 
all."
"Okay." She studied him for a few seconds, then gave him a quick hug. Her mom 
was right. She was too young for all this. The drama was better kept to the 
stage. "I'll try to remember that."
They hurried around the corner again and into the auditorium.
But by the time they were halfway through the first scene, Bailey had forgotten 
Tim's advice entirely. Bryan had been kind and thoughtful onstage, using his 
talent to showcase hers and whispering compliments or flirty one-liners every 
time he had a chance.
When they broke for dinner, Katy pulled Bailey aside and gave her a stern look. 
"This camp's production is something I take very seriously." Her voice wasn't 
angry, but there was no denying she meant business.
Bailey's mouth hung open. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Just be careful. I don't like all the attention Bryan Smythe's giving you." She 
allowed a tight smile. "This is a big part for you, all right?"
"All right." Her cheeks were suddenly hot. "I'm sorry if I didn't seem serious."
"You did. Just don't let Bryan distract you."
Bailey's mouth was dry by the time Katy walked away. And as she headed for the 
dining hall, she looked through a break in the
98 
trees to the sky overhead. God, help me focus this week. And help me know if 
Tim's right about Bryan. Tim's and Tanner's faces came to mind. At least Cody 
wasn't in the picture anymore. The guy was such a jerk, throwing himself at Katy 
when he knew Katy was engaged to Dayne. She kept her eyes on the sky and sighed. 
Help me, Lord. Unravel this confusion. Please.
Bailey had been looking forward to teen camp all summer, and now she had the 
leading role and Katy was worried she wasn't taking it seriously. Which meant 
she would have to find a way to ignore the distractions in her life-Tim and 
Bryan and Tanner.
That way what she did onstage really would be drama enough.
99 
WORK ON THE film took up so much time Friday and there wasn't time for lunch 
with Randi. Dayne met her around two o'clock. "Lunch is out obviously. No time 
today. Sorry."
"Dayne!" She put her hands on her hips and frowned. "That's not fair. I looked 
forward to lunch all week. I want to talk about my husband and your Miss Indiana 
and how come it's all going so good for you. Give me an hour for breakfast 
tomorrow, Dayne." She used her whiny voice, her head tilted. "You always have 
the best advice."
He hesitated. He had promised Katy he'd be there for the teen camp finale, the 
presentation of The Wiz. He had plans to meet his private jet at ten tomorrow 
morning so he could be in Bloomington by five o'clock. That would give him 
enough time to get to the seven o'clock show. He and Katy could have dinner 
together, and he would spend the night at John's house and have most of Sunday 
with Katy before flying back home Sunday evening.
Breakfast Saturday morning would be pushing it. Besides, if
100 
the paparazzi discovered Dayne and Randi were sharing a meal, it would make the 
magazines for sure. Not that the stories would amount to anything. It wouldn't 
be long before they figured out he was engaged, and then-for a while anyway-they 
would stop linking him with other women.
Dayne had already promised Randi, so he finally agreed and gave her a lopsided 
smile. "Bella's on PCH at eight."
Randi's face lit up. "Really?" She hugged him impulsively. "I can't believe it. 
Dayne Matthews taking time out of his busy life for me."
"I'll only have an hour. I've got a private flight to Bloomington set for ten."
"Again?" Rand! sighed. "You're ridiculous. Does that woman even know what she's 
got?"
"Yeah." He patted Randi's arm as he turned back to his trailer. "And I do too."
It was Saturday morning, a few minutes before eight, and Dayne had three 
paparazzi cars on his tail. "Great," he muttered under his breath. He had tried 
the usual tricks, turning into a couple gas stations along the way and taking 
side streets. But nothing worked. They were on high alert today-probably bored. 
All of Hollywood's A-listers were minding their manners and staying out of the 
limelight. The tabs were rabid for a story-any story.
And this morning, the story was Dayne.
Halfway to the diner he gave up and fell in line with the rest of the traffic on 
Pacific Coast Highway. His packed bag was in the back of his Escalade, ready for 
his quick exit on the private jet. No question he wanted to lose the 
photographers by then. If they figured out he was using private air travel, 
they'd find out where he was going. And that would ruin the privacy he wanted 
between now and the wedding.
101 
He parked in the diner's lot, climbed out, and shut the door. Behind him he 
heard the squeal of tires as the three cars raced into the parking lot. Dayne 
didn't turn around. Instead he spotted Randi sitting on the restaurant's patio 
overlooking the ocean. She wore a wide-brimmed hat and oversize white 
sunglasses.
He lowered his head and made his way through the restaurant out onto the patio. 
He took the spot opposite Randi and let out a frustrated breath. "The scavengers 
followed me." He planted his elbows on the table and stared at the menu in front 
of him. "Not a minute's peace." He looked back at the door. "Maybe we should eat 
inside."
"No." She smiled. "They'll think we're hiding something." "True." His 
frustration ate at him.
"Hey-" she touched his arm-"don't worry about it. They think we're fighting, 
remember?" She looked over her shoulder at the cameramen.
They were out of their cars, resting on their back bumpers or sitting on their 
trunks, camera bags open, already aiming lenses in their direction.
She looked back at Dayne. "What are they going to say? 'Dayne and Randi Back on 
Good Terms'? That could only help the film, right?"
"I guess." He glanced at his watch. Ten o'clock couldn't come fast enough. The 
weather forecast was clear, which meant it should be a smooth flight. Just a few 
hours and he'd be in Bloomington with Katy.
They'd talked last night, and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. 
"You're going to love the show," she'd told him. "Bailey finally got serious. 
She's amazing. Wait till you see it."
Dayne gritted his teeth and lifted his eyes to Randi. "Don't they ever get tired 
of chasing people, capturing their every move for the tabloids?"
"Doesn't look like it." Randi took a sip of her water and
102 
maintained her smile. Anyone whose face was in the magazines on a weekly basis 
knew better than to frown when a camera was pointed at her. Randi was a 
professional. If she had anything to say about it, she wouldn't let them catch 
her coughing or sneezing or frowning. She rested her forearms on the 
linen-covered table. "We'll keep our hands to ourselves, and everyone will win."
Dayne felt himself start to relax. She was right. The press thought he and Randi 
were fighting. Why not share a public breakfast on the beach, let the cameras 
catch them laughing and talking like old friends? Pictures like that would be 
good for the film.
The conversation shifted as they ordered and waited for their food. Dayne looked 
for an opening, a chance to bring God into the conversation. Randi was talking 
about her husband and how the two of them had planned to have a monogamous 
relationship, but that had changed after the kids came.
"I had a feeling six months ago that there was trouble." She lowered her chin 
and poked at her omelet. Egg whites and spinach, no cheese. The sort of 
breakfast that kept Randi in her size- two jeans. "He told me he was considering 
an affair."
Dayne felt sick to his stomach. "He told you that?"
"Mmm-hmm." Randi lifted her glass and took hold of the straw with her lips. 
After taking a sip, she swirled the ice in small circles. "He said sometimes an 
affair brings new life to an old marriage."
"Old . . ." Dayne turned his head for a moment and gave a sad laugh. As he did 
he noticed the commotion in the parking lot. The three paparazzi cars had easily 
become a dozen. Every photographer had a camera trained on the two of them. Even 
with the backdrop of crashing surf and seagulls, he could hear the constant 
clicking. He tried to put it out of his mind as he turned back to Randi. "Old? 
You've been married four years."
"I know." She sounded defeated.
103 
"Do you know how many guys would love to be in his spot? Guys who would love you 
the rest of your life?"
Randi leveled her gaze at him, and through her lightly tinted sunglasses he 
could see the depth in her eyes. "Not you, though, right? You're off the 
market."
"I am." He refused to let the conversation turn toward the two of them. "But 
your husband's wrong. Having an affair isn't the answer."
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "What is?"
Here was his chance to be a light, like he'd read about in the Bible earlier 
that week. He took a swig of his coffee and set his cup down. "The answer is 
God, Randi. Placing your faith in Him." His tone was serious. He was tired of 
dancing around the truth. If Randi didn't understand, so be it. At least he 
would've done what he was supposed to do. "Forever's what God's all about."
"Hmm." She looked like she might reach across the table and take hold of his 
fingers. But then she glanced at the parking lot and stopped herself. She 
lowered her hands to her lap and smiled at him. "I had a feeling you were going 
to say that." She paused, studying him. "You're a strange one, Dayne, but here's 
what's funny: I think you really mean it. About God."
He felt a surge of joy. She was listening, really listening. He kept his 
composure. "I do. Even here in Hollywood you can find that faith. I'll help 
you."
She nodded. "I might just take you up on that."
They ate the rest of their breakfast, both of them doing their best to take 
small bites and maintain their smiles, acting as if they couldn't see the 
cameras following every move they made.
"We should've had breakfast at your place," she said.
"Yeah, that would look good. Randi Wells, struggling in her marriage, spends the 
morning at Dayne's beach house. The press would have a field day."
"Sometimes I think we care too much what the press thinks."
104 
"I do too. I read the other day how some top model stopped and gave a bunch of 
photographers a box of popsicles. Every rag in town ran the story."
"Exactly."
"So maybe that's the answer." Dayne settled back in his seat and checked the 
time. "Hey, I have to run."
"I'll follow you out toward the airport. That way I can take a sharp turn before 
you get there. I'm the one with the rocky marriage. If they have a choice, 
they'll follow me."
"You might be right. They'll think I'm headed home." He stood and left a couple 
twenties for the bill. If the photographers hadn't been watching, he would've 
hugged her. The conversation had gone better than he hoped. Randi cared. And 
someday maybe she'd give her life to God.
They walked out of the restaurant to their vehicles, and Dayne waved at the 
throng of photographers. "Nice morning, huh?"
"Does this mean you and Randi are friends again?" one of them shouted over his 
camera.
"What about your husband, Randi? Does he know you had breakfast with Dayne 
Matthews?"
Randi laughed and shrugged in Dayne's direction. Then for the sake of the 
photographers, in a loud voice she said, "So you're going home?"
"Yeah. I need an hour in my home gym. You?" He loved this, the chance they had 
to trick the tabloids.
"I have that meeting." She pretended to look upset, as if she'd let something 
slip that never should've slipped with paparazzi listening.
The photographers jumped on the moment.
"What meeting?"
"Are you seeing someone else already?"
"Is it the film's director?"
"Does your husband know?"
105 
Randi held up her hand and gave a look of mock frustration. Then she turned to 
Dayne. "Thanks for breakfast."
"Bye." He kept himself from laughing. No wonder she'd won an Oscar. Her acting 
was beyond believable. He slipped into his SUV and only then did he allow 
himself a slight smile. Randi understood how badly he wanted to keep his trips 
to Bloomington a secret. And she'd been a friend to him, giving the press a 
reason to think she was up to no good.
He started his engine and reached the driveway just before her. His cell phone 
rang before he could make his left turn back onto Pacific Coast Highway. 
"Hello?"
"How was that?"
"Every one of them bought it." He chuckled. "You're good, Randi. If I didn't 
know better, I'd follow you myself. Just to see what was going on."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She laughed. "Let's give 'em a run for their money. And, 
Dayne . . ."
"Yes?" He checked the traffic and pulled out.
"Thanks for being my friend."
"Thanks for being mine. I think I have a shot at getting to the airport without 
leading a parade."
"Well, you better focus on the road. We've got lots of company for now."
They ended their call. Randi stayed behind Dayne, and by the time they hit their 
cruising speed, twelve paparazzi cars were clustered behind them. There was no 
point trying to lose them yet. His Escalade had tinted windows, but they knew it 
belonged to him, same as they knew the red BMW convertible belonged to Randi. 
But if Randi's ploy worked, sometime before the stretch of homes on Malibu Beach 
she'd turn and the paparazzi would follow.
Dayne checked his rearview mirror again. One of these days the photographers 
were going to cause a wreck, and then what? Would the craziness finally come to 
an end, or would it only
106 make them more anxious, rabidly excited about being first at the Randi took 
the lead, grinning in Dayne's direction as she
Eleven paparazzi cars sped by him and tried to squeeze in on either side of 
Randi. Da understood what they were doing. Randi was blonde and pretty, and with 
her BMW top down and her designer sunglasses, a shot of her driving along PCH 
was
Still, the move was dangerous, and he watched her react to the nearness of them. 
At first she jerked her car to the right and then to the left. He could see her 
grab the wheel with both hands, try-
Alarm coursed through Dayne's body. If she swerves . . help
He sped up, trying to intimidate them, but still they hounded her. And now 
another photographer zipped around him and into the lane of oncoming traffic. 
Only a sports car was coming straight for the guy. The photographer snuck back 
into traffic at b
the last second but not efore the sports car swerved hard to his
At the same time, a delivery truck in that lane swerved out of the way, lost 
control, and shot across both lanes and straight
Dayne had no time to analyze the situation, no time to imag- ine the 
ramifications of the scene playing out in slow motion before his eyes. No time 
to brake or turn the wheel. The truck flew at him like a runaway train, and in 
an instant he realized that this was how it happened. Every day in every city in 
the country someone stumbled into a moment like this, and that was all there 
was. Living life one minute and carried off in a body
A hundred questions screamed at him. What about the wed- ding? What about the 
plans he had for later today and tomorrow
FOREVER
is, rabidly excitel , grinning in D ; sped by him an
tyne understood Iretty, and with I a shot of her Dney.
ngerous
and he
;t she jerked her her grab the c gh Dayne)
intimidate them photographer z
traffic. Only photographer s Jore the sports livery
truck in 1 tshot across ) analyze the sit
the scene play e to brake or
tui way train, and
tppened. Every ( bled into a mor ; life one minute
screamed at hi Lans he had for la
scene? passed him.
bound to bring good money.
ing to maintain control.
her, God. Please!
right.
for. . .
bag the next.
107 
and Thanksgiving? He hadn't had time to talk to Ross about Jesus, no perfect 
time to talk to Luke and Erin, the brother and sister he'd been meaning to call 
since the revelation that he was related to them. No time to call Katy and tell 
her good-bye.
He slammed on his brakes, but the steering wheel locked and there was nowhere 
for him to go. In the final split second before the truck slammed into the 
driver's side of his Escalade, he had just enough time to grieve everything he 
was about to lose. His place in the Baxter family, his years in the house on the 
lake, his life with Katy. But only her face filled his heart and mind and soul 
as the truck slammed into his SUV, as glass exploded and the sound of screaming, 
twisting metal filled his ears.
Something sharp and burning tore through his body, his head, as everything was 
going black, and his final thought was the saddest of all. The face in his mind 
was one he might never see again this side of heaven.
The face of his forever love, Katy Hart.
108 
109 
RANDI WELLS watched the whole thing happen in her rearview mirror. One minute 
she was being squeezed by the paparazzi, fighting to keep control in her own 
lane, and the next there was a series of swerves and screeching tires and 
suddenly a truck was flying across traffic and smashing into the door of Dayne's 
Escalade.
Randi slammed on her brakes and jerked the gear into park. She was out of the 
car before the traffic around her had come to a complete stop. "Dayne!" she 
shouted, her body numb from the shock. "No . . . not Dayne!"
Around her, the paparazzi were stepping out onto the pavement. As she hurried 
around a few of their cars, she heard the click of cameras. Her entire body 
shook, and she turned on them, screaming like a madwoman. "Are you kidding me? 
You caused this, you vultures." She raised her fist and brought it down hard on 
the hood of the car that had pressed in on her left side. "Stop!" She hit the 
hood again and again; then she faced the photographer who had caused the 
accident.
110 
"This isn't my fault," he sneered.
"It is too." She reeled back and pushed the guy to the ground. Then, only dimly 
aware of the other paparazzi still snapping pictures, she grabbed his camera and 
threw it, smashing it into a dozen broken parts. "There. You'll go to jail for 
this, mister. Look what you did to my-" She gasped. "Dayne! Someone call 911!" 
She turned and saw the truck driver trying to get free of his vehicle. But what 
about Dayne?
"Dayne . . . hold on!" She couldn't breathe, couldn't feel her feet. But somehow 
she made it to the side of his Escalade. Dayne was unconscious, pinned against 
the driver's seat, and bleeding from his mouth and ear. Randi clawed at the 
broken pieces of glass, desperate for an opening. She reached in and touched the 
tip of her fingers to his shoulder. "Talk to me, Dayne. Come on. Say something."
In the distance she heard a siren. Come on. Get here. Get him out.
Randi was shaking harder now, so hard she couldn't talk. Dayne was okay, right? 
Just knocked out? She tried again to reach him, to touch his face and tell him 
everything was going to be fine. But the twisted metal wouldn't let her any 
closer. She searched the other side of the SUV. Yes, maybe that was the way in. 
The other side.
She ran around the back of his smashed vehicle to the passenger door, half 
expecting it to be locked or too badly damaged to open. Please let me inside! 
She lifted the handle and pulled with all her might. To her shock, it opened. 
She squeezed her eyes shut. Please talk to me, Dayne. Randi opened her eyes 
again and lifted herself onto the passenger seat. Shattered glass was 
everywhere, and the engine was still running. She turned off the ignition and 
put her hand on Dayne's leg. "Dayne, wake up. Talk to me."
He was breathing. Not much and not very hard, but his chest was moving. Randi 
felt a wave of relief and realized that until that moment she hadn't been sure 
if he was even still alive. She tried to listen to his lungs above the pounding 
of her own heart.
111 
There was a rattling sound in his chest, and his head was hurt too. Badly. And 
the bleeding near his mouth meant internal injuries, right? Wasn't that what 
she'd learned on some film set five years ago?
What about the air bags? She peered around Dayne, but the SUV door was too 
damaged to see more than a small bit of plastic. She realized the impact was so 
sure and so fast that the air bag had deployed, but then it had been crushed by 
the twisting metal around it.
Even so, the initial deployment had probably saved Dayne's life.
Only then, as she surveyed the rest of his body, did Randi notice his leg. A 
long piece of metal, probably from the mangled driver's door, had pierced all 
the way through his upper thigh. Her eyes widened, and she felt overpowering 
nausea well within her. Around the place where the metal had entered him, 
Dayne's leg was spurting blood, though she guessed the piece might also be 
stanching some of the blood loss.
She spotted Dayne's cell phone on the floor of the passenger side and picked it 
up. He had a flight to catch, right? Who would notify the woman in Indiana that 
Dayne had been in a terrible car accident? She slipped Dayne's phone into her 
shorts pocket just as the paramedics rushed up to the SUV.
"We've got it, miss," one of the paramedics said.
"No. I have to stay with him." She turned and shook her head, begging the 
paramedic with her eyes.
"You're . . . you're Randi Wells." The man hesitated. "Ma'am, I need you to step 
aside so we can work on him."
A pair of workers had started using machinery to separate the two vehicles. One 
of them exchanged a look with the paramedic near Randi. "Is this guy who I think 
he is?"
"It's Dayne Matthews." Randi inched her way out of the Escalade. She was shaking 
so much that her words were nearly unintelligible. "Get him out! He needs a 
hospital!" Her screaming
112 
had dimmed to a faint cry. She finally did as the paramedic asked and stood a 
few feet away. "Please hurry."
The paramedics worked as fast as they could, and their conversation was hard to 
understand. Randi's head was spinning. When an officer asked if he could move 
her car into a nearby parking lot, she nodded absently. Her car? Did she drive 
here? Wasn't she with Dayne?
When the man returned and handed her the keys, she said, "I . . . I have to stay 
with Dayne."
"That's fine." The officer put his arm around her shoulders. "You can come with 
me. We'll follow right behind the ambulance."
At that moment, she had a sudden burst of sanity. She stared at the chaotic 
scene around her and pointed to the photographer she'd pushed a few minutes 
earlier. "Him." She pointed at another photographer and another. "They did this 
. . . they were ch-ch-chasing us."
The officer seemed to understand for the first time. "The paparazzi? They caused 
this?"
Randi hugged herself. Her teeth were chattering. "Y-y-yes." She whirled around, 
back to the place where paramedics almost had Dayne freed from the wreckage. 
"He's okay, right? He'll be okay?"
"Hold on." The officer held a radio to his mouth and said something about 
arresting anyone on the scene with a camera. Then he put his arm around her 
again and led her to the passenger seat of his squad car. "Stay here."
She started to sit, but then she jumped back to her feet. "What about Dayne? . . 
. He's okay, r-r-right?"
"They're taking him to UCLA Medical Center. He'll be in good hands there."
There was a commotion near the wreckage as four men lifted Dayne onto a 
stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. Randi slid into the squad car and 
buckled her seat belt. Yes,
113 
Dayne would be okay, because now he was in an ambulance. And that meant he was 
on his way to the hospital, where they'd fix him up good as new.
The officer got in beside her and drove skillfully through the stopped and 
slowing traffic. When he was behind the ambulance, he turned on his siren.
"Dayne . . . he has a plane to catch. He'll be late."
The officer didn't say anything, and Randi silently screamed at herself. Of 
course he would be late. It would take most of the day to stitch up his leg and 
make sure his head was okay.
She berated herself. What was she thinking? Dayne wouldn't be out of the 
hospital later today. He might not even live that long. He had been pinned to 
his SUV, his leg nearly severed, with very serious head wounds.
The officer was speeding south on Pacific Coast Highway, staying right behind 
the ambulance just like he'd promised. "The paparazzi will be charged for sure."
Randi wanted to say good. Good that they'd be charged. Only nothing was good at 
all, because charging them with a crime wouldn't undo the damage, wouldn't give 
Dayne a clear shot toward the airport and his waiting plane and the woman he 
loved in Indiana. She felt tears in her eyes, the first since the accident.
Finally they reached Wilshire Boulevard, turned left, and drove a few more 
blocks. Randi stared at the hospital. If anyone could help Dayne, the doctors at 
the UCLA Medical Center could. When they pulled into the driveway marked for 
emergencies, only eight minutes had gone by, and Randi silently celebrated. 
They'd made excellent time! Maybe they could still save him.
She jumped out of the car and ran behind the stretcher. She felt faint and 
dizzy. But sheer willpower kept her on her feet. The paramedics hadn't removed 
the piece of metal piercing Dayne's leg. It stuck out on either side of the 
gurney in a macabre way. She hurried after the stretcher, silently screaming, 
Dayne . . . wake up! You have to be okay! Please be okay!
114 
When they were inside the emergency room, a nurse ushered her into a private 
room. "Ms. Wells, you can wait here. Mr. Matthews will be in surgery." The woman 
patted her shoulder. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."
Strange how wherever they went-even here in a hospital room, the great 
equalizer-people knew who they were. Randi Wells and Dayne Matthews. But that's 
where celebrity treatment stopped. Death and destruction were no respecters of 
persons. Disaster could lay claim to a movie star as quickly and certainly as it 
laid claim to anyone else.
Before the nurse shut the door, Randi blurted out the only question that 
mattered: "Is . . . is he going to live?"
The nurse hesitated, and in that instant Randi knew just how bad things were, 
because if Dayne were only mildly injured, her answer would've been immediate. 
Instead the nurse paused just long enough so her words didn't come as a 
surprise. "He's fighting for his life." She looked pale, as if she herself was 
taking the news hard. And she probably was. The whole country felt as if they 
knew Dayne, after all. "Is there someone you can call? next of kin? They should 
have the chance to be here in case . . ." She didn't finish her sentence. "If 
there's someone we can call, please let us know."
Randi felt her shorts pocket. Dayne's cell phone; it was still there. "No." She 
pulled the phone out and ran her thumb over the top. "I'll take care of it."
"We're fielding calls from the media, Ms. Wells. We won't tell them a word about 
the accident until you and the doctors decide."
"Thank you." Her voice was robotic sounding, numb and lifeless. She felt sick 
again, and she almost asked for a bathroom. But before she could, the woman was 
gone and Randi was alone in the small room. Just her and God, if the God Dayne 
believed in really existed. She sat down, leaned over her legs, and dug her 
elbows into her knees. This couldn't be happening. God, if You're there. . . let 
him live. Please.
115 
Randi opened the phone and saw that her hands were shaking again. She scrolled 
through Dayne's numbers, surprised at how few there were. But then, Randi hadn't 
heard about Dayne hitting the party scene since meeting the woman in Indiana. So 
she would be her first call.
Randi concentrated, tried to block out the images of a broken, battered Dayne 
Matthews and focus instead on the conversations they'd had about his love life. 
Katy, right? Wasn't that her name?
Randi ran down the list until she hit the Ks, and there it was: Katy Hart. Yes, 
that was it. The director had talked about her at one of their meetings. She was 
a talented actress apparently. Someone who had chosen to walk away from the part 
in Dayne's movie with Kelly Parker. Randi hit the OK button and then just as 
quickly hit Send.
The phone connected, but after four rings it went to Katy's voice mail.
After the beep, Randi forced herself to speak. "This message is for Katy Hart. 
This is Randi Wells. I'm an actress on the picture Dayne's working on." She 
paused. "There's been an accident. Please call me immediately so I can give you 
the details." She left her cell number and clicked the End button.
Who else? She stood and paced from one side of the room to the other. Any family 
or relatives? Dayne's parents had died when he was young, so who else could 
there be? She scrolled through the names, looking for a sign. As well as she 
thought she'd known Dayne, she really didn't know him at all. Didn't know who 
cared for him or who would want a call in a terrible situation like this one. 
She worked her way down the list, and partway through it she saw something that 
stopped her cold.
Under the Ds was the name Dad. She checked the number, and the area code was the 
same as Katy Hart's in Indiana. In the notes section for the listing was 
something else. The name John Baxter, which meant the man probably wasn't Katy 
Hart's father.
116 
Randi stared at it for a moment before making the decision to call the man. This 
must be something Dayne was hiding. There could be no other explanation.
Because the world thought Dayne parentless.
117 
KATY HAD no choice but to be understanding.
Dayne had promised he'd attend the show, but his schedule didn't allow him the 
freedom to always make his own choices. It was that simple. Showtime was in 
fifteen minutes, and only Bailey and Connor knew that Dayne was supposed to be 
here. Bailey came running up to her while she was giving final instructions to a 
crew of kids near the wings backstage.
Katy dismissed the other teens. As Bailey approached Katy caught her breath, 
almost as if she were seeing the girl in a different light for the first time. 
Every morning they shared breakfast and every evening they told each other good 
night, but somehow Katy had missed the obvious. Bailey was growing up. She had 
never looked more adorable, her hair in pigtails and big, colorful, 
eighties-style jewelry finishing off her look. The kids had been told to bring 
black clothes for the show and accessories to dress up their outfits. Over her 
black tights and long-sleeve black T- shirt, Bailey wore a short, bright pink 
skirt and a pink, formfitting jacket. The picture of The Wiz's offbeat version 
of Dorothy.
118 
Bailey leaned in close. "I looked through a crack in the curtains. I don't see 
him."
"He's not here." Katy peeked around the curtain and searched the audience the 
way she'd done a dozen times in the last few minutes. Rhonda was standing near 
the back next to Aaron, the guest speaker and activities director. He'd turned 
out to be a great guy, and he seemed to hit it off with Rhonda. Katy wouldn't be 
surprised if he asked Rhonda out once they got back to real life on the other 
side of the lake.
But Dayne was nowhere.
Bailey frowned. "I thought for sure he'd come."
"Me too. He was probably sucked into a meeting. Directors can do that."
"Yeah." Bailey grinned at Katy. "Tell me about it."
"You doing okay with Tim and Bryan?"
"Fine." She giggled. "I invited Tanner to the show. That oughta keep them both 
quiet."
"I'd say."
Bailey looked at the stage. "My mom says I have to give him a chance to like 
theater. Maybe then we'll have more to talk about."
"Good advice. Besides, Tim and Bryan both have pretty big egos. If your 
boyfriend's here tonight, they might still have a chance to fit through the 
doorway at the end of the show."
"Right." Bailey held her hands out. "Pray with me?"
"Sure." They bowed their heads together. Katy asked God for His protection and 
provision throughout the night, that Bailey and the others would remember their 
lines, and that the entire show would be glorifying to Him.
When Bailey ran off to join the others, Katy worked out a few more kinks in 
costumes and blocking assignments; then she took her place in the front row. 
Rhonda and Aaron sat on her right side; Bethany Allen, CKT's coordinator, on her 
left. Up until the moment the lights went down, Katy searched. Time and again 
she looked over her shoulder and scanned the auditorium.
119 
But there was no Dayne.
She hid her disappointment. Even Rhonda didn't know she'd been expecting him. It 
was time to dismiss all other thoughts so she could focus on the matter at hand. 
Her finest teen-camp production so far.
The lights faded to dark, and a single spotlight appeared onstage.
"Dorothy?" The teen playing Aunt Emma craned her neck as she looked out over the 
audience. "Dorothy, it's time to come in. I've got supper on the table and a 
storm's coming."
Bailey came running down the side aisle and up onto the stage. "Here I am, Aunt 
Emma."
The lines, the acting, the timing-all of it was perfect. Again Katy felt the 
ache of disappointment. Dayne had really wanted to see Bailey and Connor in a 
show together. And more than that, she had been looking forward to after the 
show, to finding a quiet place where she could lay her head on his chest and let 
him wrap his arms around her.
The show moved along without a hitch. Bryan was perfect as the Scarecrow, 
standing on the inside edges of his feet and letting his arms dangle, regardless 
of the scene. Same with Tim, who managed to use robotic movements whenever he 
needed a little oil. Even the Cowardly Lion was good-played by a wiry teen who 
had no trouble acting timid. His song drew more laughs than all the others 
combined.
When it was over, Katy looked once more. She saw Tanner Williams sitting with 
Jenny and Jim Flanigan. But Dayne wasn't here. Whatever had happened, he wasn't 
in Bloomington. Because if he were, nothing could've kept him from being here 
tonight. The cast took their bows, then stayed onstage to sing three praise 
songs.
This was what she really wanted Dayne to see.
No matter how victorious the show, the kids never forgot this part. They linked 
hands-Bailey and Connor and Bryan and
120 
Tim, the Schneider girls and the Shaffer kids. The Rogers and Farleys and Pick 
boys. Parts no longer mattered but only the one voice they lifted to heaven. "I 
love You, Lord . . . and I lift my voice. . . ."
Katy felt tears in her eyes. Thank You, God, for these kids. And for reminding 
me every time they take the stage why I'm here. Nights like this she almost felt 
like Dorothy. There really was no place like home. And, Lord, thanks for showing 
me again. There's no other place I'd rather call home. Just hurry the time so 
Dayne can be here with me. All the time.
Finally the houselights lifted, and the kids raced down the stage stairs and off 
to their respective parents. Around the auditorium, parents were handing kids 
flowers and giving hugs and snapping pictures. It was a familiar scene, and 
usually Katy would make the rounds, posing for pictures with the kids who called 
out to her.
She was walking up the aisle toward the back of the theater when she spotted a 
man who looked like John Baxter near the door. He was talking to Bethany, and 
his face looked tightly drawn, serious. Strange, she thought. She continued 
toward them. She hadn't seen the Baxters in attendance. Ashley had hoped to make 
it with Landon and the boys, and even Kari had talked about bringing her husband 
and their two children. But until now Katy hadn't seen any of them.
As she came closer she saw she was right. The man was John Baxter. He turned and 
their eyes met. That's when Katy saw that his eyes were red and swollen. His 
lips parted but he said nothing, only shook his head.
Bethany pulled away, touching Katy on the elbow briefly before she walked off.
"John?" Katy closed the distance between them. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, Katy."
Katy gripped his forearm. That wasn't the right answer. Her
121 
question had been rhetorical. If someone looked upset, you asked if something 
was wrong. Most of the time the sad-looking person would shake his head and 
decline to get into details. "Everything's fine," he would say. Or "Don't worry. 
It's no big deal." Never was a person supposed to answer the way John Baxter 
just had.
Katy searched his face, his eyes. Was it Ashley? Had something happened to her 
friend on the way to the show? "Talk to me. What happened?"
"There's been an accident. Dayne's SUV was hit by a truck this morning." John 
sniffed, and his lower lip trembled. "He's in the hospital in intensive care. 
They . . . they don't know if he'll make it."
Katy's head began to spin and her mind raced. What was he talking about? Dayne 
wasn't in an accident. She'd talked to him just last night, and everything was 
all set. He would board a plane at ten this morning and meet her at the 
auditorium in time for the show. She looked slowly over her shoulder at the rows 
of seats. Only he had never showed up, so maybe . . .
She turned back to John and shook her head. "Not Dayne." Her voice was a painful 
whisper, each word taking every bit of her strength. Her knees shook, and she 
had to blink hard to keep from passing out. Not Dayne, God. Not him.
John took her in his arms and held her. Then he led her outside and around the 
corner. The summer air did nothing to stop the chill that suddenly ran through 
her. "I'm leaving first thing in the morning. Ashley's coming too. I thought 
you'd want to join us."
No, she didn't want to join them. She wanted to walk back into the auditorium 
and see Dayne Matthews signing autographs for the CKT kids. She wanted to see 
Bailey and Connor run up to him and beg him for his opinion of their show. She 
didn't want to fly to Los Angeles and find him in a hospital room. She held on 
to John with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut. She had to focus, had to 
make herself think.
Katy blinked and looked at him again. "What happened?"
122 
Disgust and anger mixed in John's expression, and hu clenched his jaw. 
"Paparazzi. Dayne and Randi Wells were leaving breakfast in separate cars, and a 
dozen photographers chased
them. One of them veered into oncoming traffic and started a chain reaction. An 
oncoming delivery truck lost control and shot straight into Dayne's door."
Katy gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. "Is Randi with him?" Someone had 
to be. He couldn't be lying there in a hospital room fighting for his life 
without anyone nearby.
"She's there. They won't let her in yet." John glanced at the ground, clearly 
fighting tears. When he found her eyes he looked like whatever he had to say 
next was maybe the hardest part of all. "He has a brain injury, Katy. Also, he 
may lose his left leg. Internal bleeding, organ damage. The accident was 
horrific." He pulled her close again. "We have to pray for a miracle."
Brain injury? Katy pictured the handicapped brother of one of the CKT kids. The 
child had been riding his bicycle without a helmet when he was hit by a car. The 
accident took everything but his life. It left him in a near-vegetative state, 
unable to walk or talk or think beyond an infant level. Katy shuddered. "Yes. We 
have to pray."
"Should I book you a flight?"
"For tomorrow?" Suddenly the urgency filled her heart and mind and raced through 
her veins. "What if . . . what if that's too late?" She took a few backward 
steps. "We need to go now. The next flight, John. Don't you think?"
"I've checked." John caught up with her and put his arms around her. "Don't 
panic. Dayne needs you to be calm, to pray. Come on." He gently led her toward 
the parking lot. "I'll take you home so you can get some sleep. I'll pick you up 
at four in the morning. The flight leaves at seven." He explained that Bethany 
and Rhonda had come in one car, and later Rhonda would collect Katy's things and 
drive Katy's car back. Bethany would follow her to the Flanigan house.
123 
"Yes." Katy was numb. "Take me home, please." Nothing made sense, and all she 
wanted to do was find a way to Dayne. Even if she had to walk all night. She 
buried her head in John's shoulder as they walked.
On the way home, she said nothing because everything felt like a horrible 
nightmare, so surreal she couldn't believe it was happening. She hadn't seen 
Dayne for a month, so today was going to be about more than the show. By now 
they should've been almost finished with the aftermath from the camp, and they 
would've found a quiet spot on Lake Monroe where they could talk and hold hands 
and dream about their future.
Only now nothing was certain, not even Dayne's next breath.
When they reached the Flanigans', Katy thought of another question. "When will 
we know more?"
John understood. The dark shadows on his face, the tears that pooled in his 
eyes, told her the answer before he spoke. "His injuries are very serious. We 
have to beg God for His help, for every minute he survives."
"Dear God . . ." She couldn't finish, couldn't find the words. It was already 
too late. Dayne was so badly hurt that she didn't know where to begin.
John took her hands in his and finished the prayer. "I've seen You work 
miracles, Lord. I've seen You allow life in little Hayley, and I've seen you 
take the woman I love home to heaven." For a moment his emotions seemed to 
prevent him from speaking. After several seconds he coughed and continued. 
"Lord, Dayne is only beginning to live. He has found You and us and Katy . . . 
all in the same season of life. Please-" his tone grew desperate-"please, God, 
heal his wounds, his brain, and his leg. Breathe life into Dayne so we see a 
dramatic change in the morning. In Jesus' name, amen."
Katy couldn't speak. She thanked John with her eyes; then she leaned over and 
hugged him. She wasn't sure how she stepped out of the car and made it to the 
front door. Jenny and Jim met
124 her there. Their ashenfaces told her they already knew. They
"Katy . . . oh, honey." enny wrapped her arms around her and held her close. 
"I'm sony. The story's all over the TV." TV? Katy sagged against Jenny. How 
could they? The same paparazzi who had caused the accident were now providing 
the networks with pictures and video? Couldn't they give Dayne pristrength.
She searched enny's face. Jim stood on Katy's other side, his hand on her 
shoulder. Katy tried to focus. "What . . .
"It's bad." Jenny looked hesitant. "He's in intensive care."
"I know. John Baxter got a call from Randi Wells." Katy felt faint again. She 
walked slowly down a short hallway toward the kitchen and great room. The 
television was on, and she wanted to see it for herself. Maybe the information 
they'd heard was wrong. Maybe the new would say Dame hadn't been injured but 
only stuck in traffic after a fender bender. Something like
She rubbed her temples as she took a seat directly in front of the Flanigans' 
big-screen TV. Jenny and Jim took the spots on either side of her. They didn't 
have to wait long. A woman anchor appeared on the screen beneath a banner that 
read
Katy held her breath. No, God . . . no, please.
Using the tone reserved for grave matters, the anchor drew a slow breath and 
began. "Actor Dayne I Aatthews is fighting for his life in a Santa Monica 
hospital tonight, victim of a paparazzi chase gone awry." She gave the details 
of the crash, the same ones John had explained to Katy earlier. "Tonight doctors 
are trying to prevent amputation of Matthews' left leg." The station cut to a 
clip of a doctor speaking before a throng of reporters and photographers. "Dayne 
Matthews' condition is extremely critical." He made a straight line of his lips 
and hesiFOREVER
faces told her mediately so the enny wrapped I -y. The story's al inst
Jenny. How
the accident in video? Coulc er
built inside Jenny's face. Jin loulder. Katy tri
:ed hesitant. "He - got a call from slowly down a I . The television ayb
the inform s would say Da) after a fender
es
as she took a n TV.
Jenny an y didn't have t, le screen benu Critical
No, God no, red for grave ma "Actor Dane :a hospital tonig] gave the details !d 
to Katy earlie Lation of Matth' .lip of a doctor s ,raphers. Dayne made a 
straight
must've left the play immediately so the
Jy could be here for her.
vacy even in this? Anbuilt insid
Je her, and it gave her
what are they saying?"
that.
"Dayne Matthews in Critical Condition."
125 
tated. "We're doing what we can, but several of his injuries are life 
threatening."
Back to the anchor. "Dayne Matthews' agent said he expects another press 
conference from doctors in the morning. The accident is sadly reminiscent of the 
one that took the life of Princess Diana." She paused. "In other news . . ."
Jim clicked the TV off, but Katy barely noticed. She could no longer lie to 
herself, convince herself for another breath, another moment, that maybe the 
facts were wrong or that it wasn't such a serious accident after all.
She collapsed in Jenny's arms, and finally her tears came. Floods of them, 
desperate for a way to release the sorrow building inside her, filling her 
heart. She would find a way to exist between now and four in the morning, and 
then she would pray with every passing second that by the time she reached 
Dayne's side, he would still be alive. Because the accident, the details of his 
injuries, his prognosis-none of the information she'd already heard had been 
wrong or exaggerated.
Katy had no idea how long she stayed in Jenny's arms, sobbing, aching for Dayne 
to walk in and tell her it was a horrible mistake. But it wasn't, so there was 
nothing left to say.
The TV news had said it all.
126 
127 
THE MIX of emotions had become an angry churning sea, and Ashley Baxter Blake 
was so far underwater she couldn't see her way to daylight. Landon had called 
the fire station and asked for a few days off so he could watch the boys and 
Ashley could join her dad and Katy in LA. Ashley was grateful. She couldn't 
imagine coming this far in the search for Dayne only to lose him.
It was four o'clock Sunday morning, chilly and still a long way from sunrise, 
when Ashley and her dad pulled into the Flanigans' circular drive.
Katy appeared and jogged to the car. She had just one small suitcase.
Ashley opened her door, stepped out, and met Katy's terrified eyes. "I'm so 
sorry, Katy."
"We have to get there."
"Yes." Ashley could barely stand up under the rush of sorrow.
The two of them hugged, and Katy took the backseat.
As they pulled out, she leaned up and directed her question at
Ashley and her father. "Have you heard anything?"
128 
Ashley watched her dad's reaction. His face was a mask of thinly veiled fear. "I 
spoke to his doctor half an hour ago. So far they've been able to save his leg, 
but he's not out of the woods. Infection's a big threat."
"What about . ." Katy was breathless. She sounded scared to death. "What about 
his head injury?"
"He's in a coma. They removed fluid late last night, but swelling in his brain 
could still be a problem."
Ashley leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Swelling in his brain? A coma? 
Infection that could result in Dayne's losing his leg? Every bit of dialogue was 
like something from a horrific nightmare. And all because the paparazzi wanted a 
photograph. The situation was maddening, and Ashley intended to do something 
about it. After all, Luke was practically a lawyer. Maybe they could file a 
lawsuit against the tabloids, ordering them to keep their distance from now on. 
Something had to be done. Otherwise even if Dayne survived, they'd only chase 
him into another dangerous situation.
She angled herself so she could see Katy better. Her friend was shivering, her 
arms crossed tightly in front of her. Ashley wished with everything in her that 
she could whisk them back in time and find some way to protect Dayne, some way 
to undo the damage. She reached back and put her hand on Katy's knee. "The 
paparazzi did this before, didn't they? When you were in LA for the trial?"
"Yes." Katy's teeth were chattering. "They ran us off the road."
Ashley knew the rest of the story. The incident had convinced Dayne that his 
lifestyle was too difficult for Katy, too dangerous. They had called off their 
relationship, and things didn't work out until Dayne surprised her with an 
engagement ring over the Fourth of July holiday and shared his plans to move to 
Indiana.
Her older brother was anxious to live in Bloomington, marry Katy, and become a 
part of the Baxter family. Dayne had told her
127 
so himself the last time he was in town. "All the insanity is about to calm 
down." He had smiled at the others around the table at the Baxter house. "I feel 
like my real life's just about to start."
His words haunted Ashley as they neared the airport in silence, and another 
concern began to take root, but it wasn't one she wanted to talk about near 
Katy. Katy had enough to worry about.
They arrived at the airport and boarded the plane as part of the last group of 
passengers. Ashley was seated by her father, and Katy was a few rows up. They'd 
been the only seats left on the plane when her dad booked the tickets.
When the plane reached its cruising altitude, Ashley turned to her father and 
voiced the concern that had stayed with her since the drive to the airport. 
"What about the media?"
Her father nodded, his eyes filled with a knowing. "I've thought about that."
"And?"
"What can we do?" Her dad didn't look fazed. "The doctor knows we're coming; he 
knows we're family."
"Immediate family?" Ashley was stunned.
"Yes. That's the only way we'll have access to Dayne."
Ashley could barely take it in. All along this had been the obstacle, the 
barrier between having an open relationship with Dayne and keeping every 
conversation and contact a secret. Ashley hadn't cared, but what about the 
others? Everything was happening so fast-the accident, the trip to Los Angeles. 
Certainly the media would wonder who they were and why they were allowed in 
Dayne's hospital room. "Have you talked to the others?"
"Yes. None of them had any issue with it."
Ashley held her breath. "Even Luke?"
"He didn't say much. I think he was in shock."
Ashley exhaled and kept her mouth shut. Her recent conversations with Luke told 
her that maybe his reaction was more 
128 
Ashley watched her dad's reaction. His face was a mask of thinly veiled fear. "I 
spoke to his doctor half an hour ago. So far they've been able to save his leg, 
but he's not out of the woods. Infection's a big threat."
"What about . . ." Katy was breathless. She sounded scared to death. "What about 
his head injury?"
"He's in a coma. They removed fluid late last night, but swelling in his brain 
could still be a problem."
Ashley leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Swelling in his brain? A coma? 
Infection that could result in Dayne's losing his leg? Every bit of dialogue was 
like something from a horrific nightmare. And all because the paparazzi wanted a 
photograph. The situation was maddening, and Ashley intended to do something 
about it. After all, Luke was practically a lawyer. Maybe they could file a 
lawsuit against the tabloids, ordering them to keep their distance from now on. 
Something had to be done. Otherwise even if Dayne survived, they'd only chase 
him into another dangerous situation.
She angled herself so she could see Katy better. Her friend was shivering, her 
arms crossed tightly in front of her. Ashley wished with everything in her that 
she could whisk them back in time and find some way to protect Dayne, some way 
to undo the damage. She reached back and put her hand on Katy's knee. "The 
paparazzi did this before, didn't they? When you were in LA for the trial?"
"Yes." Katy's teeth were chattering. "They ran us off the road."
Ashley knew the rest of the story. The incident had convinced Dayne that his 
lifestyle was too difficult for Katy, too dangerous. They had called off their 
relationship, and things didn't work out until Dayne surprised her with an 
engagement ring over the Fourth of July holiday and shared his plans to move to 
Indiana.
t ler older brother was anxious to live in Bloomington, marr\ 1<at\ , and 
becttmc a part of the Baxter family. Dayne had told her
129 
so himself the last time he was in town. "All the insanity is about to calm 
down." He had smiled at the others around the table at the Baxter house. "I feel 
like my real life's just about to start."
His words haunted Ashley as they neared the airport in silence, and another 
concern began to take root, but it wasn't one she wanted to talk about near 
Katy. Katy had enough to worry about.
They arrived at the airport and boarded the plane as part of the last group of 
passengers. Ashley was seated by her father, and Katy was a few rows up. They'd 
been the only seats left on the plane when her dad booked the tickets.
When the plane reached its cruising altitude, Ashley turned to her father and 
voiced the concern that had stayed with her since the drive to the airport. 
"What about the media?"
Her father nodded, his eyes filled with a knowing. "I've thought about that."
"And?"
"What can we do?" Her dad didn't look fazed. "The doctor knows we're coming; he 
knows we're family."
"Immediate family?" Ashley was stunned.
"Yes. That's the only way we'll have access to Dayne."
Ashley could barely take it in. All along this had been the obstacle, the 
barrier between having an open relationship with Dayne and keeping every 
conversation and contact a secret. Ashley hadn't cared, but what about the 
others? Everything was happening so fast-the accident, the trip to Los Angeles. 
Certainly the media would wonder who they were and why they were allowed in 
Dayne's hospital room. "Have you talked to the others?"
"Yes. None of them had any issue with it."
Ashley held her breath. "Even Luke?"
"He didn't say much. I think he was in shock."
Ashley exhaled and kept her mouth shut. Her recent conver sations with Luke told 
her that maybe his reaction was mon 
130 
than shock. Luke didn't want his name publicly linked with hi older brother's. 
At least not yet. Anyway, the last thing the% needed to worry about was the 
tension Luke had been feeling 
Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, and Ashley realized he was fighting 
tears. "All that matters is Dayne. If the med turn on us, so be it." He 
swallowed, finding his composure. ii the paparazzi figure it out, maybe we can 
take the heat off him."
A sense of awe came over Ashley. Her father wasn't only inter ested in Dayne, 
anxious for a relationship with him. His feeling,, were much stronger than that. 
Her dad loved Dayne, and now-- faced with losing him-he would throw himself at 
the mercy o I the tabloids if it meant helping his son.
Ashley put her hand on her father's and gave it a gentle pat. "God'll take care 
of us, whatever happens."
"Yes. That's what I've always believed." He drew a long breath. "Dayne was the 
one who worried about our privacy." He slid his fingers around hers. "I have 
nothing to hide. Dayne's my son. He's always been my son."
Ashley felt her father's passion to the core of her soul. If anything happened 
to Dayne now, after her parents had spent their entire married life wondering 
about him, she wasn't sure her dad would recover. "We need a miracle."
With his free hand he pulled his wallet from his pocket. Inside were photographs 
tucked safely in worn plastic sleeves. Her dad flipped them slowly, 
painstakingly, until he reached the most recent photograph of Brooke's daughter 
Hayley. He stared at the picture for several seconds and then tapped it gently. 
"God's given us a miracle before. I'm begging Him to do it again."
Ashley looked at the photo of her niece and remembered other times. Landon's 
unexplainable recovery from the burns his lungs received when he'd rescued a 
child from a fire. Her own clean bill of health. For that matter, the story of 
their lives had been marked at every turn with one or more miracles. Even her
131 
mother's death had its own glimpses of God's handiwork-she'd seen her dream come 
true by meeting Dayne before she died.
Ashley was quiet the rest of the flight, talking to God and asking every few 
minutes that He might breathe healing into Dayne.
When they landed, she saw something different in Katy, a fear that hadn't been 
there before, as if now that they were in Los Angeles everything about Dayne's 
accident, his condition, felt so much more real.
Ashley's father rented a car, and the tension built with every mile as they 
neared the hospital. At one point Ashley turned on the radio, and a few minutes 
later a news report updated an anxious city that Dayne Matthews was still 
fighting for his life. They would give more news when it became available. 
Ashley turned it off.
"They don't know everything." Katy sounded stiff and robotic. "Let's just get 
there."
Ashley noticed her father driving faster after that. She stared straight ahead 
as they maneuvered through LA traffic. Scenes kept flashing in her mind: the way 
she'd found her mother's letter in an envelope marked Firstborn, how she'd known 
her parents' secret before the others, and how that had led to her eventual 
discovery that her older brother was Dayne Matthews.
She was replaying that first conversation with him when her dad turned into the 
hospital parking lot. Filling an entire side lot were dozens of media cars and 
trucks and vans with news-station call signs splashed across the sides and 
satellites shooting high into the air. Ashley surveyed the front of the 
hospital. Members of the press were clustered on either side of a long walkway.
They wouldn't recognize her dad and her, but Katy Hart. . . certainly some of 
them would remember her. She had been part of one of the most sensational trials 
to hit the national media all year, and after that she'd been the focus of the 
tabloids for several weeks.
Her father parked, and the three of them headed toward the
132 
walkway. Without saying anything, Ashley and her dad each took one of Katy's 
arms to support her.
Ashley leaned her head in close to her friend's. "Keep your eyes down; maybe 
they won't figure out who you are."
Katy narrowed her eyes. "I've run from them ever since I met Dayne. Not this 
time." She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin.
They were ten yards from the first set of cameramen when a reporter shouted, 
"Katy Hart, everybody! It's Katy Hart."
The press moved in like sharks around a kill, and Ashley tightened her grip on 
Katy's arm. For a few seconds she had the urge to run. Was this what Dayne lived 
with every day? She felt sick to her stomach at the thought. Cameras were aimed 
at them, and the air was filled with the sound of clicking and shouting. 
Constant clicking and shouting.
"Katy, can you tell us how Dayne's doing?"
"What's his prognosis?"
"Do you have any comments for the photographers who were chasing Dayne and Randi 
Wells before the crash?"
Katy stopped and faced the reporter. Her eyes grew steely, and her lips parted.
Ashley wasn't sure if she should urge Katy through the throng or stand by while 
she had her say. Her father seemed to be struggling with the same dilemma. Even 
the reporters stopped yelling their questions.
But instead Katy turned back to the hospital doors and worked her way through 
the crowd, which parted just enough to let the threesome through.
"Vultures," Katy muttered once they were inside. But when they reached the 
elevators, she exhaled hard and hung her head. "Stop me if I say that again. 
This can't be about them, not when Dayne's-" Her voice caught, and she brought 
her hand to her mouth.
The elevator doors opened. Ashley put her arm around Katy as they stepped 
inside. "He's going to be okay. I believe that."
133 
Next to them, Ashley's father said nothing, and Ashley wondered if he was 
thinking about her mom. The last time the family had gathered at a hospital it 
had been to say good-bye. Ashley prayed that this time would be different.
They reached the intensive-care unit and were immediately met by a uniformed 
officer. "Name of the patient you're seeing?"
Ashley was glad for the security. It was the only reason the entire floor wasn't 
crawling with photographers.
Her father took the lead. "Dayne Matthews."
"Your relation?"
Her dad didn't hesitate. "Family."
The police officer checked his clipboard. "Your name?" "John Baxter." He pointed 
to Ashley. "My daughter Ashley and Dayne's fiancée, Katy Hart."
The officer looked at their IDs and made three check marks on the paper. "Thank 
you. Go on to the nurses' station."
Sitting in the hallway between the elevators and the nurses' station were two 
women. They had the appearance of people waiting for news about someone in 
intensive care. But Ashley had her doubts. As they passed, one of the women took 
out a cell phone and made a call. Clearly no cell calls were allowed on the 
floor. Ashley could've bet the woman was alerting someone that the two people 
with Katy Hart were Dayne Matthews' family.
Or maybe Ashley was only imagining things.
They reached the nurse, and she checked their names. Then her lips formed a sad 
smile. "We've been expecting you." "Can we all go in?" Katy's voice trembled.
"That's fine. Room nine. But only for a short time."
Ashley looked at her dad. He nodded for her and Katy to go in first. Then he 
turned his attention back to the nurse. "I'm a doctor. Can I speak to the 
attending physician?"
"Absolutely."
Ashley forced herself to be strong. She led Katy across the hall into the room. 
The lights were dimmed, and half a dozen
134 
machines were stationed around the bed. The man in the bed looked almost nothing 
like the movie star everyone knew and loved. His head was bandaged, and his leg 
was wrapped to nearly twice its size. Swelling distorted his face, and bruises 
colored the area below his eyes.
Katy reached his side first. She put her hand on his shoulder, leaned over him. 
"Thank You, God," she whispered. "Thank You." Ashley came up beside her.
Katy's cheeks were wet. She didn't take her eyes off Dayne. "This is all I've 
wanted. Ever since I heard about the accident." "This . . . seeing him?"
"No." Katy closed her eyes. "Standing here beside him and hearing him breathe. 
Just knowing for sure that he's alive."
For the first time since Ashley got the news about her older brother, the mix of 
emotions having their way with her reduced to only one. A great and 
all-consuming sorrow. It wasn't fair. After all the years her parents had 
missed, all the birthdays and Christmases and milestones, for Dayne's life to be 
cut short in any way was wrong. She took hold of the bed rail and looked at his 
face. Please, God, let him live. Please put him back together.
And then she felt compelled to add one more thing. Because now that she was 
here, now that she could see how truly critical the situation was, another fear 
was slowly making itself known. So in her next breath she asked God not only 
that Dayne would live and that the doctors could save his leg and his mind once 
he woke up. But something else.
That he'd remember them.
Two hours had passed since they arrived at the hospital, and John had been in to 
see Dayne twice. Now he and the neurosurgeon, Dr. Cynthia Deming, were talking 
in hushed voices a few doors from Dayne's room. The prognosis wasn't good.
135 
"We're still watching for edema, obviously. We'll need three days before we're 
out of the woods on that."
"And responsiveness?" John felt sick even asking.
"Nothing. Not since medical help arrived on the scene. Probably not since the 
point of impact."
John felt his heart sink. This was the sort of news he dealt with every day, 
news he had shared with grieving family members in a hallway like this one more 
times than he could count. Head injuries were always riddled with uncertainty. 
Much depended on which lobe sustained damage and whether that damage wound up 
being permanent or not.
Comas were graded on two different scales, giving doctors a way to determine 
whether a patient was making progress. By those standards, Dayne's coma was 
easily the most severe type. That was to be expected. Typically the first three 
days were the worst after a brain injury-especially a traumatic brain injury, or 
TB!. After the brain stopped swelling-if a victim survived that long-healing 
could take place. At that stage, tests could more accurately pinpoint the areas 
of damage and the coinciding consequences.
The neurosurgeon was an articulate young woman with a gentle manner and a keen 
understanding of This. She was known throughout the medical community for her 
work at UCLA. John had researched her last night when he couldn't sleep. Dr. 
Deming was thirty-seven, married, and expecting her first child, though she 
barely showed. She was a risk taker, one article said, using her off time to 
skydive and scuba dive and hike trails everywhere from Oregon to Hawaii. She 
loved the outdoors and every living thing. But she was passionate about saving 
brain-injured patients. In the decade that she'd been practicing neurosurgery, 
she'd become a legend.
John wouldn't have wanted Dayne in any hands but hers. "Obviously you understand 
what we're facing here, Dr. Baxter." Dr. Deming tucked Dayne's chart beneath her 
arm.
136 "Your son's injury is very serious. The odds of his ever coming "How small?" 
The moment felt unreal, as if someone else
John closed his eyes and waited several heartbeats before he "It's hard to 
tell." The doctor brought her lips together and shook her head. "He could have 
loss of memory, loss of motor
skills. Even complete loss of all cognitive bodily functions." "That's the 
worst-case scenario." It wasn't a question. All doc- tors knew that every now 
and then a case defied the odds. With every breath John was silently praying 
that Dayne's case would
"Of course." Dr. Deming frowned. "I have to be honest. A complete recovery would 
be very unlikely. But I won't rest until we try everything possible to make that 
happen." John nodded. Please, God, a complete recovery. I just found him.
"I'll tell them." John thought about his earlier conversation with the vascular 
surgeon. There was still a possibility that Dayne would lose his leg. He fought 
the heaviness inside him. Ashley and Katy knew none of what he'd learned. He 
kept wait- ing, hoping for something good to tell them. But there was
John thanked the doctor and returned to Dayne's room. Ashley and Katy both 
turned to him, and he motioned them into the hallway. No matter how badly Dayne 
was injured, there was a chance he could understand what was being said around 
him. In that case, it was imperative that they keep negative conversaAshley's
face was a mask of concern. As they rounded the cor- ner and moved a few doors 
down, she NNThispered, "Tell us what FOREVER
Ty serious. The ( 111."
noment felt
unr n.
to 15 percent." and waited
seve he does?"
Le doctor rougld have loss of ss
of all cognitiN E.. scenario." It w and then a ca.5. dlently praying t
nin frowned. [d be very unlike bl to make that God, a complete ri
thought about eon. There was
He fought th lone of what I ring good to te
octor and retui rne to him, one how badly Dayn rstan
what was Tative that they ask of concern. )ors down, she NA
out of the coma are small."
were asking the question.
"My best guess is 10 to 15 percent."
opened them. "And if he does?"
be one of those.
"About the others . . ."
nothing.
tions outside his room.
you know."
137 
"I can't read the machines." Katy hugged herself. Her face was pale, the way it 
had been all morning. "I keep looking at them and willing them to show 
something, a sign that he's getting better."
John leaned against the wall. The two young women standing before him had no 
idea what they were up against, what they were all up against. God, help us stay 
strong.
I am with you, son. I will never leave you. . . .
The reassurance that only Christ could give filled John's heart and mind. He 
couldn't wait any longer. He started at the beginning. "Dayne's had a traumatic 
brain injury. It'll take as much as three days before the swelling in his brain 
will stop." John tried to keep things simple. "The more the swelling, the worse 
things
get."
Katy's eyes were wide. She looked like she could barely draw a breath. "Is . . . 
is there swelling now?"
"Yes." John pressed his shoulder into the wall. Hold me up, God. He could still 
hardly believe they were even having this conversation. "Once the swelling 
stops, we'll have a better idea of how much damage he's suffered."
Ashley massaged her brow. "So we're assuming brain damage? Is it a fact at this 
point?"
"Everyone's different. I don't want to assume anything yet." He paused. "Dayne 
has one of the best doctors in the field."
"Good." Ashley put her hand on Katy's shoulder. "I told you. He's in great 
hands."
John started to tell them that the odds were dramatically against Dayne's waking 
up the same person he was before the accident. But he changed his mind. If they 
were asking God for a miracle, they needed to believe it was possible. At least 
for now when so much was uncertain. One way or another, God would show them soon 
enough. John decided to move on. "He has a fever from the infection in his leg. 
There's still a chance they might have to amputate."
138 
Katy stared at a spot near her feet. She shifted and crossed her arms more 
tightly than before.
John watched her and wondered what she was thinking. He knew Katy but not that 
well. The good times rarely showed the character of a person, and maybe here, 
now, he would learn something about Katy Hart that he hadn't known before. The 
news hitting her on every side had to be overwhelming. Was she thinking that she 
could hardly stay around for a guy with a brain injury or that a one-legged 
Dayne might be more than she could handle?
Katy looked up then, almost as if she could read his mind. The look in her eyes 
was rock solid. "I want you to know something." She glanced from John to Ashley 
and back. "Whatever happens after this, I'm not leaving." She pointed toward 
Dayne's room. "I love him. I've never loved anyone the way I love him. No matter 
what, I'm not leaving." Tears choked her voice. "When he wakes up, I'll be right 
there. Beside him."
It was a breaking point, the final drop in a bucketful of gut- wrenching 
moments. Ashley hugged Katy, and after a few seconds John joined in. They stayed 
that way for a long time, lending each other strength, silently begging God for 
a miracle that seemed all but impossible.
The day wasn't over, and already John knew so much more than he'd known this 
morning in Bloomington. He knew that he cared for Dayne the same way he cared 
for any of his kids and that his family would rally around the young man as if 
they'd known him their whole lives. He'd received confirmation about that from 
everyone-everyone except Luke. And that was only because Luke was distracted. 
Beyond that, John now knew more about the battle they were facing in seeing 
Dayne restored to health. But most of all, he knew the impeccable character of 
the young woman who had pledged her life to his older son.
A woman named Katy Hart.
139 
KATY SAT in the hospital room alone with Dayne, where she had been almost 
constantly since she arrived. It was Tuesday afternoon, three days after the 
accident, and still she'd received no reports about the swelling and whether it 
had slowed or stopped. No matter how optimistic Ashley was, Katy had heard the 
truth in John Baxter's words. For a person with a traumatic brain injury, the 
first three days were the most critical. Life hung in the balance.
They'd passed that first tenuous goal. Three days and Dayne was still alive. She 
held on to that one fact alone. Katy stared out the window. It was the first 
week of September; Labor Day had come and gone. A strong wind moved the trees 
below Dayne's hospital room, clearing out the fog and smog and making the sky 
bluer than usual. Ashley and John kept vigil with her most of the time, but they 
spent the nights at a hotel down the street.
At this moment, John was talking with Dayne's doctors, and Ashley was getting a 
sandwich in the cafeteria. Katy wasn't hungry. The news about the paparazzi was 
as bad as any of them had
140 expected, though Katyhad been spared by never leaving the intensive-care 
floor. Ashley and John had been careful to keep most of the details front her, 
but when she pressed them this morning they'd had to admit that everything 
they'd feared had
"They know who we are," Ashley had told her. "Their ques- tions tell the story. 
They're asking if I'm Dayne's sister and if Dad's his father. They've got it 
figured out for sure." Katy sighed. The first tabloid stories would hit in just 
six days, and after that the frenzied hunt for information on Dayne's biological 
family would-at least for some time-become all-
Even so, Ashley hadn't seemed concerned. "We knew about this risk when we 
contacted Dayne. If the world wants to stare at us through a magnifying glass, 
fine. Nothing will change back
Katy hoped so. The pulse and rhythm of the machines soothed her nerves. She 
preferred this now-just the sound of the equipment helping Dayne survive, 
monitoring whatever progress he might be making. She'd stopped watching news 
reports last night after tuning in to a special about Dayne. The reporter 
reminded viewers of Dayne's relationships with several
What the special didn't mention was the baby Dayne had fathered. The one Kelly 
aborted. Katy had turned the TV off then, and it had stayed off since. In one of 
their last conversa- tions before the accident, Dayne had mentioned the baby, 
the way he did every few weeks. The child would've been almost three months old. 
He followed the dates, and the regret never
In the first full day at the hospital, when sleep had been impossible and her 
mind raced to all sorts of extreme places, Katy had been comforted by the fact 
that if Dayne didn't survive, he would have the chance to see his baby in 
heaven. To hold him
FOREVER
had been spare hley and John h n her, but er admit that every
are," Ashley al yre
asking if ' e got it figured c st
tabloid stone renzie
hunt for 1-at least for sl
seemed cone( Jed Dayne If th, ,g glass, fine. Nc same Baxter fan
pulse and : preferred this Dayne survive making. She'd s unin
in to a sr ers
of Dane re lding Kelly Pa i mention y aborted. Katy off since. In on it, Dayne 
had n veeks.
The chik ollowe
the datt at the hospital -id raced to all
d by the fact that ze
to see his baby
indeed happened.
consuming.
home. We'll still be the same Baxter fannly."
of his leading ladies, inKelly Parker.
quite went away.
141 
or her the way he never had the chance to on earth. Imagining that brought quiet 
rivers of tears, and for a few minutes it almost seemed like a good thing that 
God would release Dayne from the bonds of earth and allow him to meet his child.
Then her mind had veered in the other direction. The unborn baby was safe now, 
in that special place in heaven for all children who never had the chance to 
live. The baby didn't need Dayne. Not when Katy wanted to spend an entire 
lifetime with him. They were supposed to marry and have a houseful of children. 
But Dayne had to live first. He had to find his way back to daylight and to 
everything that had made him who he was.
The back of the chair felt hard against Katy's spine. She shifted and turned 
toward Dayne. The swelling in his face was almost entirely gone. Maybe the same 
was true for his brain. She let her eyes travel down the thick bedsheets to 
where his leg was still heavily bandaged.
She wouldn't leave him, no matter what. She'd told John Baxter that, and she'd 
meant every word. But in the darkest moments, when it was just Dayne and her 
alone in the hospital room, the future loomed like a black hole. A brain-damaged 
Dayne Matthews? Struggling day to day with only one leg?
She shuddered at the thought, but before she could ask God for strength, beg Him 
for a positive mind-set, there was a knock at the door. "Yes?"
The door opened and John and Ashley came in. Both of them were smiling, and 
Ashley had tears in her eyes.
John reached out and took Katy's hand. "I have good news."
Katy sucked in a quick breath. "Really?" For three days she hadn't heard those 
words in the same sentence. A rush of heat filled her veins, and she squeezed 
John's hand. "Tell me. Please."
John smiled, but his chin quivered and it was clear he was fighting to find his 
voice. Finally he cleared his throat and shook his head. "I didn't think we'd 
see this day."
Ashley took the place on the other side of her father. "The
142 
infection in his leg's turned a corner." Her voice cracked, and she put her 
fingers to her lips. "They won't have to amputate."
Time seemed to stop. "Thank You, God. . . . Thank You." Katy's whispered prayer 
came instantly, instinctively. Whatever lay ahead for the two of them, Dayne 
would have his legs. She looked at John. 'You just found out?"
"Yes." He leaned over and hugged her shoulders. "There's more."
A dizzy sense of elation wrapped its arms around her. "More?" "The tests they 
did this morning show the swelling has stopped and is already receding at a 
rapid rate."
"So . . ." She held her breath, waiting.
"He's going to make it, Katy. He's going to live."
"I told you." Ashley put her hand on Katy's shoulder. She was crying openly now. 
"God has plans for the two of you. For all of us."
Katy couldn't have stood if she wanted to. She breathed more thanks to God and 
then voiced the only question that remained. "His brain?"
John's smile faded some. "They're not sure. Tests show much less damage than 
they originally thought, but his coma is still at the most severe level." He 
took a step closer to his son and rested his hand on the bed rail. "It's 
imperative that he come out of the coma soon."
Katy understood. John didn't want to say that a lengthy coma could have serious 
ramifications for Dayne or that the longer the coma, the more serious his brain 
injury. They'd been told many times that Dayne might be able to hear them, so 
John was doing what he ought to do. He was presenting the facts in the most 
positive way possible.
Dayne needed to wake up. Period.
Even so, if the tests couldn't see the serious damage Dayne's doctor had feared, 
then there was reason to celebrate. Already God had worked the impossible.
143 
Katy stood and hugged Ashley first, then John. "This is what we've been praying 
for."
"Yes." John took hold of one of her hands. "It's as much as we could've dared 
hope for at this point."
The look in John's eyes told Katy that they easily could've been talking about a 
funeral, and even if Dayne kept his leg and his life, he was not in the clear 
yet. Not until they understood the extent of his brain injury.
Katy tried to get a handle on everything she was feeling. "You and Ashley are 
leaving today, right?"
"In a few hours." Ashley directed Katy to sit back down. Then she pulled up a 
chair. "We need to talk." She sniffed. Her eyes were dry now, though her cheeks 
were still tearstained.
John took a few steps back and pointed to the door. "I want to meet with Dr. 
Deming again. I'll be out there if you need me."
When he was gone, Ashley's face filled with sincerity. "You're staying?"
"Yes." Katy looked at Dayne and her heart swelled. He was going to survive. More 
than that, he was going to recover. This was only the beginning. She turned back 
to her friend. "I won't leave until he's okay. However long that takes."
Ashley frowned. "You can't stay here, Katy. You look like a wreck." She surveyed 
the room. "You're spending the nights here, in the chair?"
"It reclines." She patted the arms. "The nurses bring me pillows and blankets."
"But that's not real sleep."
Katy nodded. She'd thought about this, even though it hurt. "If he doesn't . . 
." She stopped herself. "If we're here much longer, I'll start spending nights 
at a hotel."
Ashley looked torn. "I'd stay if I could. You know that."
"Of course." She sat up straighter. This was her job, her watch. No one could do 
it but her. "You have Landon and the kids. I can't believe you stayed this 
long."
142 
infection in his leg's turned a corner." Her voice crackc(I she put her fingers 
to her lips. "They won't have to amptil .1 1,
Time seemed to stop. "Thank You, God. . . . Thank 1 Katy's whispered prayer came 
instantly, instinctively. W11.11, lay ahead for the two of them, Dayne would 
have his leg,, looked at John. "You just found out?"
"Yes." He leaned over and hugged her shoulders. ""I 1, more."
A dizzy sense of elation wrapped its arms around her. "Moi "The tests they did 
this morning show the swelling 113 stopped and is already receding at a rapid 
rate."
"So . . ." She held her breath, waiting.
"He's going to make it, Katy. He's going to live."
"I told you." Ashley put her hand on Katy's shoulder. She \\ crying openly now. 
"God has plans for the two of you. For it I I us."
Katy couldn't have stood if she wanted to. She breathed Inv!, thanks to God and 
then voiced the only question that remain I "His brain?"
John's smile faded some. "They're not sure. Tests show nit less damage than they 
originally thought, but his coma is still 3 the most severe level." He took a 
step closer to his son and rest his hand on the bed rail. "It's imperative that 
he come out ol coma soon."
Katy understood. John didn't want to say that a lengthy con' could have serious 
ramifications for Dayne or that the longer coma, the more serious his brain 
injury. They'd been told mail times that Dayne might be able to hear them, so 
John was doiii what he ought to do. He was presenting the facts in the nu), 
positive way possible.
Dayne needed to wake up. Period.
Even so, if the tests couldn't see the serious damage Daync doctor had feared, 
then there was reason to celebrate. Alread God had worked the impossible.
143 
kitty stood and hugged Ashley first, then John. "This is what 'we been praying 
for."
es." John took hold of one of her hands. "It's as much as we ld've dared hope 
for at this point."
the look in John's eyes told Katy that they easily could've n talking about a 
funeral, and even if Dayne kept his leg and lite, he was not in the clear yet. 
Not until they understood the tit of his brain injury.
Katy tried to get a handle on everything she was feeling. "You Ashley are 
leaving today, right?"
"In a few hours." Ashley directed Katy to sit back down. Then pulled up a chair. 
"We need to talk." She sniffed. Her eyes
r dry now, though her cheeks were still tearstained.
John took a few steps back and pointed to the door. "I want to
t with Dr. Deming again. I'll be out there if you need me." When he was gone, 
Ashley's face filled with sincerity. "You're mg?"
"Yes." Katy looked at Dayne and her heart swelled. He was ng to survive. More 
than that, he was going to recover. This only the beginning. She turned back to 
her friend. "I won't ye until he's okay. However long that takes."
Ashley frowned. "You can't stay here, Katy. You look like a ck." She surveyed 
the room. "You're spending the nights re, in the chair?"
it reclines." She patted the arms. "The nurses bring me pils
and blankets."
"But that's not real sleep."
Katy nodded. She'd thought about this, even though it hurt. III he doesn't . . 
." She stopped herself. "If we're here much lonOrr I'll start spending nights at 
a hotel."
Ashley looked torn. "I'd stay if I could. You know that."
01 course.' She sat up straighter. This was her job, her *inch. No one could do 
it but her. "You have Landon and the kills. I can't believe you stayed this 
long."
144 ii 
FOREVER 
"I wanted the whole family to be here. Erin. Kari and Brooke. Even Luke. So he'd 
know we're all pulling for him."
Katy hesitated. "About Luke . . . have you talked to him?"
"Only for a few minutes, the day after the accident." Ashley looked 
uncomfortable. "Pray about him, will you? I'm not sure what's wrong with him. He 
just took the bar exam, so he's been under a lot of pressure. But still . . ."
"You really think he might be struggling with having a brother?" Katy uttered 
the question before she remembered that Dayne might be listening.
"He's struggling." Ashley glanced toward the hospital bed and shot Katy a look. 
"We'll talk about it later. Just pray for him." "I will."
Ashley's eyes were damp again. "I can't stay, but I'll do whatever you need back 
home. CKT stuff, the new house-anything."
"Talk to Bethany about CKT. I won't be there for fall tryouts-at least it 
doesn't look like it. Anything you can do to fill in would be huge. And the 
house . . ." Katy looked out the window. "I have no idea what to do next." She'd 
barely thought about it since the accident. They were in escrow, and already a 
home inspection had been done. Besides the obvious disrepair, the structure had 
only a small amount of wood rot and no termite infestation.
Sometime this week Katy was scheduled to meet with the contractor who would 
oversee the renovation process. They were supposed to talk about windows and 
walls and doors and appliances. In their initial conversation Katy had learned 
that the process could take a year and that quality subcontractors in the area 
were hard to book, especially for renovations. She'd called around, but everyone 
she talked to said the same thing. There was no way the house could be fixed up 
by Thanksgiving.
Katy explained all this to Ashley and then lifted her hands and let them fall on 
her lap. "It feels hopeless, honestly. I can't ask
145 
you to work with the contractor. The process will take hours at a time. Besides, 
there are a million little decisions only Dayne and I could make."
Ashley wouldn't let up. "Tell me. What's your vision? What sort of doors and 
windows? What's the feeling you're looking for?"
The question allowed Katy to dream for a moment. The break from worrying and 
praying about Dayne was like someone had opened a window in the boxy hospital 
room. For the next half hour Katy shared her vision with Ashley. The way she had 
hoped for exposed wood beams on the inside and rugged natural tile on the floor 
in the kitchen and dining room. She talked about alpaca rugs and walnut cabinets 
and granite counters in browns and blacks.
By the time John came back, both of them were giggling. "That's what I like to 
hear." He came closer. "What did I miss?"
Ashley smiled. "We just renovated Katy and Dayne's house in thirty minutes."
"The contractor says it'll take a year." Katy still felt weary. But the 
distraction was a good thing. "We figured out the entire job just like that."
The corners of Ashley's lips fell. "Really, Dad, don't you know someone who 
could get the work done sooner?"
John looked at Dayne, and for a while he said nothing. Katy could guess what he 
was thinking. If Dayne didn't come out of the coma soon, his recovery period 
would take months. Years even. There was certainly no rush getting the house 
fixed.
But if that's what he was thinking, he said nothing of the sort. Instead he gave 
a slow nod. "I know a few people. Elaine does too. She's had some work done on 
her house."
At the mention of Elaine, Katy shifted her gaze to Ashley in time to see her 
friend bristle. More than once Ashley had shared that she didn't want her father 
spending time with Elaine. According to Ashley, the woman was trying to move in 
on her
146 
dad, only a few years after her mother's death. Ashley let tIH moment pass, but 
Katy was pretty sure Ashley would say soul( thing to John later.
For now, Ashley only patted Katy's hand. "I'll make soli], calls. There has to 
be something we can do to get the pla«ready."
"I'm glad you're still going through with it." John walked 1( , the edge of 
Dayne's bed. "I was afraid you might change you! mind."
Change her mind? About their dream house on the lake? Ili(' idea hurt too much 
to even think about. "No. I'll never chang( my mind about that."
They talked a few more minutes about contractors and work that needed doing and 
how impossible the task felt to Katy.
Then John checked the clock on the wall. "We have to get going." All the time 
he'd been here, he hadn't said more than few words to Dayne. He'd been crucial 
in aiding communication between Dayne's doctors and Ashley and Katy, but he'd 
kept much of his feelings to himself.
Not now.
John put his hand on the top of Dayne's head and leaned over his son. "You're 
going to get through this. I've talked to the doctors and .. . I've prayed for a 
miracle." His voice filled with emotion. "It's going to happen; I can feel it. 
We just need you to get out of here and show everyone how amazing God is." He 
stroked Dayne's forehead. "I never got to hold you or watch you take your first 
steps . . . or help you ride a bike. So we have a lot to make up for, Son. Hurry 
and wake up, okay?" He blinked and two tears slid down his cheeks. "I love you, 
Dayne. I've loved you since you were born." He bent down and kissed Dayne's 
forehead. With a last nod toward Katy, he left the room.
It was Ashley's turn. She took her place near the edge of the bed and angled her 
head. "We haven't even had time to get to know each other." She took hold of 
Dayne's hand and lifted it a
147 
111001.16i
KAREN KINGSBURY KAREN
few inches off the bed. Katy tried not to notice how lifeless his fingers 
looked. Ashley had a cry in her voice when she contin- ued. "Now listen, Dayne, 
you fight to get better, okay? God's working a miracle here. I believe it and 
Katy believes it. We all do. Now. . . now you have to believe it too."
Katy's eyes stung, and she blinked so her tears wouldn't cloud her vision.
"No matter what we've missed, you're our brother. We have a lot to catch up on, 
so we need you back in Bloomington." Ashley lowered herself over his bed a 
little more and brought his hand to her cheek. "We all love you, Dayne. We'll 
keep praying." She used her free hand to dab beneath her eyes. "I'm not saying 
good-bye, because. . . because we just said hello. Call me when you wake up, all 
right?"
She held his hand to her cheek a moment longer, then care- fully lowered his arm 
back to his side. Katy was on her feet by the time Ashley turned to her. They 
hugged again, both of them too emotional to speak.
Finally, when Katy thought she could find enough air in her lungs, she whispered 
the only thing that had to be said. "Thank you. I couldn't have survived this 
without you."
Ashley met Katy's eyes. Her look said that there was still much ahead, much to 
survive. "I wish one of us could be here with you."
Katy shook her head. "I'll be okay. You go take care of your family."
"I will." Ashley gave her a final hug, and before she left the room she promised 
to call tonight.
Katy watched her friend go. When the sound of her footsteps and John's faded in 
the hallway, she turned back to Dayne. For an insane moment she wanted to crawl 
into bed beside him and take him in her arms. But nothing about such a move 
would've been appropriate.
Instead she slid her fingers between his. The sensation wasn't
148 
FOREVER
at all what she wanted it to be. His hand was cold and unresponsive, not what 
she was used to feeling when she and Dayne touched. She resisted the urge to 
pull away, and one heartbeat at a time her resolve grew.
"Were you listening, Dayne?" She searched his closed eyes, his still face. "I 
meant what I said. Somehow we're going to get the house fixed up, and you're 
going to get better." Her eyes filled again. A few tears fell onto Dayne's 
sheet, but she held the sobs back. "You're going to move to Bloomington, and 
we're going to get married in the spring."
Again she waited. Please let there be a sign, a slight movement, anything. Let 
me know You're here, Lord, and that You're healing him.
She stared at the place where their hands were connected. Please. . . a twitch 
or a small bit of pressure. She held her breath, looking at his hand for any 
sign. But there was nothing. Her eyes moved to his, and she studied him, willing 
him to move. He looked like a person so deep in sleep that nothing could wake 
him.
Then, as if God was directing her movements, Katy let her gaze settle on Dayne's 
chest. She watched the subtle rise and fall, rise and fall, and suddenly she was 
filled with God's peace. His presence. It had been only three days since the 
accident. Here, then, was sign enough. Not that Dayne was moving or twitching or 
coming out of the coma. Not that he could respond to anything she might say, 
even her deepest thoughts.
But that he was breathing at all.
149 
^ 
LUKE TOOK the first open seat on the subway, settled back, and stared at the 
dirty rubber floor mat. Nothing about his life felt right, and here-on the 
fifteen-minute commute to their apartment-was the only time he could really 
think about it. The subway lurched into motion, and he grabbed hold of the 
silver pole on his left side.
Ashley had been home for more than a week, and she'd called twice. The problem 
was he didn't feel like talking-not about Dayne anyway. And Ashley hadn't called 
to talk to him about anything else since they found out that Dayne was their 
brother. Especially since the accident.
The familiar knots tightened in his gut. Guilt was certainly part of what he was 
dealing with. He'd heard about the crash on TV before he took the call from 
Ashley. Press had been at the scene of the accident, obviously. Of course the 
world would know before the actress Randi Wells decided to look through Dayne's 
cell phone and find their father's number. Luke had been sitting on the couch 
midday Saturday watching an NFL 
150 
preseason special when the news bulletin had interrupted the program. He could 
still remember every word of what came next.
"We have received confirmation that earlier today actor Dayne Matthews was in a 
serious car accident. Though details are sketchy, reports are that Matthews is 
in critical condition and might not survive the night."
Luke kept his eyes on the floor of the subway. His first reaction should've been 
shock and grief. He should've jumped up and called his dad or Ashley or one of 
his other sisters. Instead, for the ugliest minute, he'd felt something closer 
to relief. If Dayne was out of the picture, so be it. The Baxter family could 
carry on, same as always. No threat of national attention, no figuring out his 
place in the family now that he wasn't the only Baxter son, none of the 
awkwardness that was bound to come from having a movie star at their 
Thanksgiving celebration or Christmas dinner.
It had taken a few minutes for Luke to catch himself, for him to realize that 
his attitude was not only ugly but selfish and petty and downright sinful. He'd 
called Reagan into the room and told her the news.
She reacted the way he should've. She gasped and sat down slowly on the sofa. 
"That's terrible!"
"I know," he finally said. Only then did he reach for the phone and leave 
messages for his father and Ashley. As it turned out, neither of them checked 
their messages and Randi Wells got word to them first. In the meantime, he'd 
talked to Brooke, Erin, and Kari. They were appropriately concerned, praying for 
their older brother constantly.
So what was wrong with Luke?
The subway rumbled through Lower Manhattan, up along Broadway toward Midtown. He 
and Reagan weren't getting along, and Hannah from work had stopped smiling at 
him. One time since seeing her in Central Park he had approached her 
151 
and asked if she wanted anything from Starbucks. She declined and said, "Luke . 
. . I'm not interested. I have to be clear on that."
Which only made him feel like more of a loser. Because if his subconscious 
interest in the receptionist was that obvious, then he was betraying Reagan. 
Even if only in his thoughts.
He pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in his 
mouth. He and Reagan were still barely holding more than functional 
conversations-whatever it took to feed and dress and bathe the kids and the 
usual formalities that were expected of each other.
Reagan blamed the change on the bar exam, the stress of preparing for it, taking 
it, and now waiting for the results. But if he was honest with himself, there 
seemed to be a deeper connection with the situation regarding Dayne. The feeling 
overtaking him from the inside out was one of emptiness, uncertainty. As if he 
no longer felt comfortable in his own skin. The confident Luke Baxter he'd 
always been was now just another guy trying to figure out his life.
In some ways he felt the way he had after 9/11. He'd turned his back on God and 
his family and moved in with a coed who laughed at the idea of Christianity. But 
after Ashley helped him find his way back to Reagan and Tommy and even their 
parents, everything seemed right again. He had been there-the rock for his 
sisters-when their mother died, and often he and Reagan talked about moving back 
to Indiana.
The subway stopped. A swarm of people rushed to the exit while others, jostling 
briefcases and backpacks, found their way onto the car and took seats. It was 
crowded today, stuffy and stale smelling. A dozen people stood, holding on to 
the ceiling straps, their eyes tired and vacant.
Was that what Luke had become? Another New York commuter trying to get through 
another day? Where were the thrill and excitement that had marked his existence 
a few months 
152 
tOr
FOREVER
ago? And where was the passion he had shared with Reagan Were the kids wearing 
them out, leaving both of them wnil nothing left for each other? He worked his 
gum, but already ill, mint flavor was wearing off.
The answers had to be somewhere. Luke leaned back again,r the window and stared 
at the ceiling. God . . . I've never felt li this, so out of sorts. Even after 
9/11, I had a purpose and a passion The wrong one, yes. But I didn't feel so 
lost. The vibrating windm hurt his head, so he leaned forward and planted his 
elbows on his thighs. He covered his face with his hands. I feel disconnected 
Help me find my way back, Father. He opened his eyes and stud ied his shoes. 
Life means nothing without family, and everywhere! look my connection with 
family is falling apart. I don't know. Just help me. I can't figure it out 
alone.
He would've liked an answer, a response echoing somewhere in the distant 
recesses of his soul or a kind word from a stranger Something to make him know 
God was listening. But there wa,, nothing.
Luke sat up straight, and five minutes later the subway rattled to a stop at his 
station. He gathered his attache case and checked that his cell phone was in his 
pocket. But as he walked up the stairs he moved slower than usual. The hardest 
part of the day was just ahead.
The part where he had to face Reagan and the kids.
Reagan and her mother had been talking about Luke's attitude for several weeks. 
Her mother's opinion was clear. Luke's conflict was with himself. Now they sat 
at the dining-room table waiting for Luke to return from the office. Reagan had 
Malin in the high chair beside her and Tommy in a booster seat on the other 
side.
Her mother sat across from them, her expression sympa152
153 
thetic. "He'll come around, honey. Luke's from a good family. (iuys like him 
always figure it out eventually."
"But he's taking it out on us." Reagan was losing her patience with the 
situation. For the past few days she'd allowed herself to think the 
unimaginable. If Luke wanted out, fine. He could get his own apartment or go 
back to Bloomington. She and the kids didn't need to be around someone so 
defeated all the time.
Her mother's tone was gentle. "Men have a lot to figure out. He's young, and 
after taking the bar his career is kind of on hold." She paused. "Your father 
went through something like this."
Reagan put a spoonful of green peas on Malin's high-chair tray. "How'd you 
survive?"
"By loving him." She smiled, and her eyes held the distant sadness they would 
always hold when she thought about her lost love. "By praising him, finding ways 
to build him up." She refocused on Reagan. "Men need that. Even when you don't 
feel like doing it."
"But you've been down on Luke too. You thought he'd find us a place to live by 
now." She turned to Tommy and tore his slice of bread in half. "Take small 
bites, okay?"
"Kay, Mommy."
Tommy's toothy grin melted her heart. Her little boy looked so much like Luke; 
the resemblance was always striking. It made her smile even now when she was so 
angry with her husband.
"I thought you'd have your own place, yes. But I didn't think he'd put so many 
hours into getting his law degree." Her tone was measured. "Actually, after you 
had Tommy, I sort of pictured Luke going into sales. I thought he'd give up on 
the dream of law school."
Malin pounded on her tray. "Mama . . . Mamamama." Reagan handed her a sippy cup 
of milk. Her daughter took it with both hands and tipped it bottom side up.
"She's a good eater," Reagan's mother said. "Not like you. I had to work to get 
anything down you."
154 
1
FOREVER
"She's a blessing, for sure." The adoption had gone through more quickly than 
they'd expected, and Mali's transition from China into their home had been going 
well for the most part. But something her mother had said surprised Reagan. "So 
you're saying you're proud of Luke?" She felt the puzzled look on her face. "I 
thought you were frustrated with him."
"How could I be? Everything he's worked for is to give you and the kids a good 
home." She sighed. "The early years of marriage are often hard. The key is to 
learn how to love. And for a woman, that means making her husband feel special, 
important."
Reagan was about to ask how she could do that if Luke wasn't even willing to be 
responsive when they spoke, but at that moment he walked through the door.
When he saw her and her mother at the table with the kids, a defeated look 
flashed on his face. "Sorry I'm late."
"No." Reagan stood and walked halfway across the room. "I thought I'd have the 
kids fed before you got home. That way I could get them down earlier. So we 
could talk."
"Oh." He gave a weary nod and waved at Reagan's mother as he headed for their 
bedroom. "I'll change clothes and be back out in a few minutes."
Reagan's mother's advice stayed with her. Maybe she was right. Luke might be 
feeling unneeded, useless. He wasn't making much of a living yet, and nothing 
would change until he passed the bar.
But Reagan had another suspicion. Maybe the trouble with Luke stemmed from the 
fact that Dayne Matthews had appeared in their lives. It was one thing when the 
guy was a client at the law firm, someone Luke could help out during a big, 
splashy Los Angeles criminal trial, the way he had last spring. But now that 
Dayne was his brother, the oldest Baxter sibling, Luke seemed almost jealous of 
him. Which was ridiculous, because no one could ever take Luke's place in the 
Baxter family. The group was
155 
way too close for that. Still, Reagan figured Dayne's role in the family might 
have something to do with the changes in her husband.
Reagan and Luke finally settled down on the sofa near the front window, the one 
overlooking the boulevard. The kids were in bed, and Reagan's mother was 
watching a movie in her bedroom. They were as alone as they'd ever be.
At first neither of them said anything. Reagan looked out at the rooftops of the 
buildings across the street. New York City had been hot and humid today, and the 
break in the weather that came in the fall still felt a long way off.
"So . ." Luke folded his hands and leaned over his knees. "You wanted to talk?"
"Yes." Reagan pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. "I need to know 
what's wrong with us."
Luke sighed, and it sounded as if it came from deep within him, from a place he 
no longer allowed her access to. "I've been asking myself the same thing."
For a moment Reagan waited. What had her mother said? Compliment him, build him 
up. Fine, she would do that, but not until he told her what was wrong. "You go 
first."
"I don't know." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Nothing feels like it 
used to. Nothing feels right."
Anger breathed its hot breath on her, and she clenched her teeth. If she was 
going to get to the bottom of the situation, she needed to speak her mind. "You 
know when all this nonsense started?" She kept her voice low, but her tone was 
uncharacteristically sharp. "When you found out that Dayne Matthews was your 
brother."
"He's not my brother."
"He is your brother." Reagan was on her feet. She glared at her husband and 
exhaled hard. "See, I'm right! That's what this is all about. You're jealous 
because Dayne's part of the family now."
"Listen-" Luke's voice was louder than before-"just
156 
FOREVER
because my dad and Ashley are in contact with the guy doesn't mean he's part of 
the family. He's a Hollywood star, for heaven's sake." He jabbed his finger in 
the air. "He doesn't know the first thing about being a Baxter."
"Well, you know something, Luke?" Reagan felt herself losing control. "Lately 
neither do you." She spun around and stormed a few steps in the opposite 
direction. Then she whirled and pointed at him. "When I first met you, that's 
when you were a Baxter. You were devoted to God and kind to your family, and you 
treated me like a queen. That's the Luke I fell in love with."
He stood. "And you're saying I'm not that same guy anymore?"
"You were when we first got married. But not lately." She waved her hand. 
"One-word answers, stalled conversations, hardly any time with the kids." There 
was a cry in her voice. "I don't even recognize you anymore."
"So what are you saying?"
Everything her mother told her fell by the wayside. The way Luke was acting 
wasn't fair. "I'm saying grow up." She spat the words at him. "I'm the one who 
gave up my college dreams, and I'm the one working part-time and still taking 
care of the kids."
Reagan moved a step closer. The intensity in her voice ran through her veins. 
"Maybe we can stop sitting around trying to understand why poor Luke isn't 
feeling right, why nothing feels the same." She gestured toward the door. 
"You're the one out there working for your dream and coming home and treating me 
like a stranger." She felt like breaking down, but the anger inside her wouldn't 
let the tears come. Not yet.
For a few seconds it looked as if that last line might break Luke. Rather than 
the walls that had dulled his eyes recently, his look was transparent, full of 
pain. But instead of apologizing, he only returned to the sofa, sat down, and 
let his shoulders sink. "I'll move out if you want me to. Until we can figure 
something out."
"What?" she shouted. Just as quickly she lowered her voice.
157 
"Is that all I mean to you? Just some problem to figure out? Even if it means 
walking away?"
"I'm just saying maybe we need a break."
"No!" She backed up a few steps. "What we need is for you to remember who you 
are, Luke Baxter, before you come home one day and I've changed the locks."
That last statement brought the walls flying back up again. Luke looked at her, 
disgust written in the lines on his forehead. Then he stood and stalked out of 
the room.
At the same time, the phone rang. Reagan could feel tears building, but she 
refused them. She went to the phone and saw the name John Baxter in the caller 
ID window. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now, but she also didn't want 
her mother picking up the phone. If her mom and John talked, her mother might 
leak the fact that Reagan and Luke weren't getting along. News like that should 
come from her or Luke, not her mother.
She didn't hesitate another moment. She picked up the receiver, hit the Talk 
button, and held it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Reagan, dear, how are you?" Luke's father sounded serious-the way he'd sounded 
often since Dayne's car accident.
But the question released every ounce of emotion Reagan had been holding in. A 
lump formed in her throat, and she couldn't speak. She squeezed her eyes shut 
and dropped slowly to the nearest chair.
"Reagan?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to speak. "Yes. I . . . 
I'm sorry, John."
"Something's wrong?" The man's voice was thick with concern. "Is it one of the 
kids?"
"No." She couldn't do this to him. He'd heard this much, so she needed to 
explain herself. "It's Luke and me. We're . . . we're not doing very well."
John let out a breath, but it sounded like a sad groan. "I'm sorry. I didn't 
know."
158 
The tears came in torrents, as if all the emotions she'd beci feeling for the 
past month were trying to find release in that si gle moment. "He hasn't been 
himself, and now-" she covered her eyes with her free hand-"he's talking about a 
separation
"Oh, Reagan." Luke's father had never sounded so distraughi "I had no idea."
"Maybe ... maybe you could talk to him."
"I will. Definitely." His voice changed from shocked to weary "I was calling to 
tell him there's no change with Dayne. He's still in a very deep coma."
"Oh." Reagan pressed her finger to her upper lip. "I'm sorry.. She thought for a 
few seconds. Should she share how she wa,, feeling? "I think Luke . . . he has a 
problem with the whole Dayne thing. I'm not sure I understand it."
John made a frustrated sound. "I think you're right. Listen, I promise I'll talk 
to Luke. In the meantime, I guess I can only ask you to have patience with him."
"I'm trying." Another wave of tears strangled her heart. "I'm not sure he wants 
to work things out."
"He does." John's tone was kind but adamant. "I know my son. He would never 
leave you or the kids. Whatever's going on must be eating him alive."
"Yes." She wiped at her eyes. "Should I tell him you're on the line?"
"No. I want to pray about this first. I'll let the two of you have your space 
tonight, and I'll talk to him when he gets home from work tomorrow."
They said good-bye. Reagan laid her head on the table, the receiver still in her 
hand.
The troubles in their marriage were Luke's fault, not hers. Her mother meant 
well, telling her she could improve things by building up her husband and making 
him feel important. But the fact was, the changes were the result of some 
difference in Luke-a difference in his attitude and tone of voice and desire to
159 
make her fed loved. They hadn't been intimate in nearly two weeks, which meant 
what? That he'd lost interest in her? Was she that undesirable?
No, the solution wasn't up to her. It was up to Luke and God and whatever 
conversation John might have with his younger son tomorrow night. If that didn't 
work, then maybe Luke was right. Maybe the only option facing them next was the 
one they had never dreamed possible.
A separation.
158 1I 
I' 
159 
T WAS DUSK in Bloomington, and John hadn't been able to shake Reagan's terrible 
news. He was taking the walk around his property, the one he and Elizabeth had 
taken thousands of times before. Only this time-as was often the case 
lately-Elaine was at his side. He'd already caught her up on the latest news 
concerning Luke, and he was desperate for her insight.
Elaine glanced at John. "You agree with Reagan?" Their steps were slow, the 
fading sunset filling the air around them with a sort of quiet comfort. "That 
all this might be about Dayne?"
"It's possible. I haven't had a good conversation with Luke since he found out 
that Dayne's his brother."
They weren't far from the fishpond. When they reached it, Elaine crossed her 
arms. "Every time we're out here I can picture Cole, crouched down looking for 
frogs and fish." She looked over her shoulder at him. "The way I picture Cole, 
anyway. From his photographs."
John felt something strange stirring inside him. Did she mean something by the 
comment? Something deeper? He opened his mouth to ask her but changed his mind. 
The conversation tonight
160 
161 
T WAS DUSK in Bloomington, and John hadn't been able to hake Reagan's terrible 
news. He was taking the walk around his )roperty, the one he and Elizabeth had 
taken thousands of times )efore. Only this time-as was often the case 
lately-Elaine was It his side. He'd already caught her up on the latest news 
contrning Luke, and he was desperate for her insight.
Elaine glanced at John. "You agree with Reagan?" Their steps were slow, the 
fading sunset filling the air around them with a ort of quiet comfort. "That all 
this might be about Dayne?"
"It's possible. I haven't had a good conversation with Luke ince he found out 
that Dayne's his brother."
They weren't far from the fishpond. When they reached it, laine crossed her 
arms. "Every time we're out here I can picture :ole, crouched down looking for 
frogs and fish." She looked )ver her shoulder at him. "The way I picture Cole, 
anyway. :rom his photographs."
John felt something strange stirring inside him. Did she mean omething by the 
comment? Something deeper? He opened his mouth to ask her but changed his mind. 
The conversation tonight
162 wasn't about the two of them. It was about Luke. He linked hi arm through 
hers and led her up the walkway toward the hoti, They sat in the porch swing, 
and Elaine was quieter than ustid I "More than anything, I think Luke's 
struggling with himsel
Who he is and who he's becoming." John narrowed his eyes looked out over the 
grassy fields that spread across the land
scape. "I remember feeling that way halfway through ni( school. You're trying to 
support a family, and you wake up on day and wonder if all the work's ever going 
to pay off."
"He's your son, John." Elaine lifted her gaze to the darkeniii:,, sky. "He'll 
figure it out. Tell him how you and Elizabeth worked through things." She smiled 
at him, but there was a distance in
"I will." He set the swing gently in motion. "Dayne's still in
"She is. Now she's spending the nights at the hotel across the
"Do you think he has a chance to pull out of it?"
John hated thinking about the situation. "Every day the odds
"But the God we serve isn't interested in odds." She looked at
"So true." They rocked for a while before he spoke again. "Odds were the 
tabloids would smear our names across a dozen
A bat dipped low in front of them and flapped off into the shadows. The first 
mention of Dayne's accident had hit the tab- bids the Monday after they returned 
from Los Angeles. The news that he was in critical condition made the covers of 
every magazine that week. Details of the accident and the arrival of Katy Hart 
at the hospital along with her constant bedside vigil
FOREVER
them. It was about Luke. He linked hi
d h r up the walkway toward the hoti, Ting, and Elaine was quieter than ustid I 
, I think Luke's struggling with himsel becoming." John narrowed his ey s aihl 
assy fields that spread across the land cling that way halfway through ni( 
support a family, and you wake up on(
e work's ever going to pay off."
" Elaine lifted her gaze to the darkeniii:, Tell him how you and Elizabeth 
worked -tiled at him, but there was a distance in
xing gently in motion. "Dayne's still in you that."
,Tith him?"
ending the nights at the hotel across the we. Not for anything."
; a chance to pull out of it?"
ibout the situation. "Every day the odds ler."
e isn't interested in odds." She looked at led that much."
:ed for a while before he spoke again. would smear our names across a dozen at 
didn't happen."
front of them and flapped off into the :ion of Dayne's accident had hit the tab- 
they returned from Los Angeles. The ical condition made the covers of every 
„tails of the accident and the arrival of 11 along with her constant bedside 
vigil story.
her eyes. "That should help."
the coma. I guess I told you that." "Yes. Katy's staying with him?"
street. But she won't leave. Not for anything."
of his recovery get smaller."
the sky again. "I've learned that much."
covers last week. But that didn't happen." "Perfect example."
were the focus of every story.
163 
But there was only a small boxed sidebar inside three of the rags that mentioned 
Dayne's biological family. "Mystery Family Members Accompany Katy Hart" one of 
the headlines read. The story said only that records showed Dayne Matthews was 
adopted, and sources confirmed that he'd located his birth family in recent 
months. The article questioned whether the two people who entered the hospital 
with Katy Hart might in fact be members of his biological family. End of story.
Even Katy had come out of the paparazzi frenzy fairly unscathed. The articles 
played on the sympathy of readers, painting a picture of the sweet, innocent 
Katy Hart, previously known as Dayne Matthews' mystery woman, now grieving 
beside him as he fought for his life. Sources were quoted saying that Dayne had 
never loved anyone the way he loved Katy, and if there was any power in love, 
having her by his side would help him pull through.
Indeed.
John gave the swing a soft push. "There'll probably be more about us in the 
weeks to come."
"I'm sure." Elaine's words were shorter than usual. Clipped. "You'll survive, 
though. You always do, you Baxters."
A whip-poor-will cried as it swooped low over the far field. John caught 
Elaine's expression in what remained of the daylight. It was definitely 
strained. "Something wrong?"
She didn't answer at first, only raised her chin an inch and kept a strong 
front. But the way she pinched her lips together told the story. Something was 
wrong, and John realized it was the first time since they'd struck up a 
friendship that she'd kept him guessing. Always before, if she was struggling 
with one of her kids or troubled by a sick grandchild, she would say so early in 
the conversation. This was different.
After half a minute, she exhaled in a way that made her sound beyond tired. "You 
ever wonder, John . . . how come we talk about everything else?"
164 
His mind raced. First the comment about Cole, then the remark about the Baxters 
always surviving, and now this. "Everything else?"
"Your kids, my kids, your GRAND KIDS, mine. We talk about faith and fish and 
frogs." Slowly she looked at him. "But we never, ever talk about us."
The word hit John like a two-by-four. All this time, all the morning walks 
around the farmers' market and the strolls around his property and down by the 
stream behind his house. The hours they'd spent sitting in the porch swing and 
building their friendship, and through all of it he'd wanted nothing more than 
to avoid that one word.
Us.
Because as far as John was concerned, the word us could only represent two 
people: him and Elizabeth.
He grabbed the swing chain and squeezed it with all his strength. "You and I . . 
. we're friends, Elaine." He tried to hide the hurt in his heart, tried not to 
let her hear it in his voice. In that moment he ached for his lost wife more 
than he had in days, months. The smell of jasmine hung in the breeze. He turned 
to Elaine, searching her face. "I never meant to make you think it was more."
Tears glistened in her eyes, but she gave a quick nod and forced a smile. "I 
know." She stood and with both her hands took hold of his free one. Almost the 
way she might greet a stranger, she gave his hand a squeeze. "I need to go."
"Elaine . . . why? What's changed?"
A single tear fell onto her cheek. -Nothing." Her smile faded. "That's just it." 
Without saying good-bye, she turned and walked to her car, her back straight. 
She never once looked over her shoulder at John. She stopped at her car door, 
but even then she hesitated only a few seconds. Then she climbed in, started the 
engine, and drove away.
When he could no longer see her car making its way down the
165 
country road that led away from his house, John sucked in a long breath and 
released his hold on the swing chain. God, I don't understand.
"I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to prosper you and not to harm 
you."
The verse nearly knocked the wind from him. It was the one he and Elizabeth had 
used so many times in talking to their children. When Kari was heartbroken over 
Ryan Taylor's football injury, when it looked like Brooke wouldn't get into med 
school. Erin's struggle with having children, Ashley's health scare, and Luke's 
frustration with God after 9/11. Always they'd told their children the same 
thing. Jeremiah 29:11-God has plans for each person. Good plans. The key was to 
walk with Him, step by step, so the Lord could reveal those plans to each of 
them.
Only now God had brought the verse to mind for John as he watched Elaine's car 
drive out of sight. Was Elaine part of the plans God had for him in this, the 
autumn of his life? Elizabeth had been gone over two years, and Elaine had been 
a widow for more than ten. Was it time he adjusted his definition of the word us 
to include Elaine? The thought made him ache, because deep down he knew that his 
friendship with Elaine was headed somewhere. And because he never intended to 
hurt her. Never.
But most of all because he still missed his dear Elizabeth.
He struggled to his feet, the weight of his sorrow like a chain around his neck 
and shoulders. Inside, he went to the one place where he could still see her, 
still feel her with him. Her rocker next to his recliner in the living room. 
Countless nights they would sit here together, side by side, talking about their 
kids, studying the pictures of them on the mantel.
He made it over to her chair, and with all that remained of his strength, he did 
what he did only once in a rare while. When the pain of losing Elizabeth 
threatened to stop his next breath. He
166 
took hold of the back of the rocker, the place where she would lay her head when 
her eyes were tired and the night grew late. He held it as if he were holding 
her, clung to it as though he might somehow bring her back to him even for a few 
minutes.
"Elizabeth." Her name was as right and real, as familiar as his own heartbeat. 
He tightened his jaw and barely squeezed out the next words. "God . . . I miss 
her so."
Standing there, gripping her chair that way, he could almost hear her voice, 
smell the subtle sweetness of her perfume. Gentle, loving, honest Elizabeth. How 
could she be gone, and how could another woman be wondering about her future 
with him? He hadn't realized it until now, but tears were hot against his 
cheeks. He held on tighter, willing a little of Elizabeth's strength to find its 
way into his heart.
Dayne was still in critical condition, Luke's marriage was in trouble, and 
Ashley was feeling the strain of balancing her life at home with her increased 
duties at CKT and her desire to get the lakeside house fixed up for Katy Hart. 
"Elizabeth, if you were here. . ."
"Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the battle is not yours, but God's."
Yes, God, I hear Your voice. The Scripture was from 2 Chronicles 20, where he 
and Elizabeth had always gone when times got tough. The battle belonged to the 
Lord. In the hardest times, the only way through was to remember that much. Part 
of the text reminded God's people to take up their positions and stand firm and 
see the deliverance the Lord would bring.
I need that now, Lord. In so many areas.
At that moment, more than anything, John needed strength to stand, to once more 
let his dear Elizabeth go, the way he'd had to let her go a thousand times since 
her death. She's Yours, God. I know that. Help me walk this journey without her.
I am with you, son.
Slowly, painfully, John released his hold on Elizabeth's chair
167 
Then, with a peace and strength that were not his own, he trudged upstairs to 
their room and into the closet, where her box of letters still sat on the upper 
shelf. Times like this, he could always take the box down and find something 
that would bring him comfort, a piece of Elizabeth's heart that she could share 
with him even from as far away as heaven.
He sifted through the envelopes, and partway through the pile he felt one that 
was heavier than the others. Over the last two years John had discovered that 
once in a while Elizabeth had written a letter and made copies of it-one for 
each of the kids. It was why he knew he had to sort through all the letters one 
day. Because within them was a wealth of memories and wisdom that Elizabeth 
meant for her children. He was doing them a disservice not to make her words 
available to them.
He lifted the heavier envelope from the others and looked at it. Scrawled across 
the front in her own delicate handwriting were the words that graced the fronts 
of many of the letters: My dearest John.
The words soothed his heart and reminded him of all they'd shared. The idea that 
he might find that kind of love twice in a lifetime was absurd, and he needed to 
acknowledge that fact. He couldn't duplicate with Elaine what he and Elizabeth 
had shared. Not even if it meant losing Elaine's friendship.
He slid his finger carefully under the flap of the envelope, and sure enough, 
inside were several sheets of paper. He spread them on the bed. The top page was 
a letter to him. He lifted the paper to his face and breathed in long and slow. 
It wasn't his imagination. He could still smell her perfume on the pages, even 
after two years. Elizabeth had always kept her stationery in her perfume 
drawer-something her mother had taught her. And so the pages-though old-carried 
the smell that would always be hers alone.
He found the top of the page, the place with the date from ten years ago, and 
began to read.
168 
My dearest John,
Today I was volunteering with Elaine.
John's heart skipped a beat. He almost dropped the page. 01 all the letters in 
the box, he had picked one in which Elizabeth mentioned Elaine? He stared at his 
friend's name and felt a chill pass over him. God, is this a sign somehow? Am I 
supposed to remember that Elaine was Elizabeth's friend first, so she should 
neve t be more than a friend to me?
He wasn't sure, and maybe it didn't matter. God wouldn't be giving him a message 
about Elaine now. He dismissed the entire idea. Instead he continued reading.
Today I was volunteering with Elaine when one of the other women asked me a 
question. She said, "How do you do it, you and John? The way you look at each 
other, the love in your eyes- it's the sort of thing usually reserved for 
newlyweds." I smiled at her, and a thought occurred to me.
John, we really do have the most amazing marriage. So many times I find myself 
sharing our secrets with my friends. How I respect you with every breath I take 
and how you cherish me like I was the greatest gift God's ever given you.
A smile tugged on John's lips as he reread that last line. It was true. He and 
Elizabeth had been an example to so many people- and not because they never 
disagreed, but because somewhere along the way they'd learned the secrets to 
enjoying marriage, to loving each other actively and constantly. And in the 
process, they both won, every day that God had given them.
Sweet Elizabeth, taking the time to write this letter. The first thing he'd do 
when he saw her in heaven was thank her for leaving this piece of herself, these 
letters. The thoughts and glimpses of her heart.
He found his place once more.
I decided that the things we've learned about marriage boiled down to ten 
points, and if we got those right, everything else
169 
would fall beautifully into place. I've shared this time and time again, but 
here I want to write those points down for our children. Because one day they'll 
most likely get married, and they'll find out, like we did, that marriage takes 
work. And it's not until you understand how to be happy together that the good 
times can really begin.
John let himself drift back. Elizabeth was right. The early years had been rough 
for them too. The same way they were now for Luke and Reagan. John had been in 
med school, and they were struggling financially. On top of that, they were 
missing their firstborn son and on edge because they didn't feel the freedom to 
talk about him. It wasn't until they had met with the associate pastor at their 
church and brought their feelings into the open that they could finally let go 
of those feelings and start learning to love.
Another chill passed over him. So here was the real message from God, the real 
reason he'd found this letter first. The letter held Elizabeth's advice about 
marriage. The exact bit of wisdom Luke needed now more than ever. Since 
Elizabeth wasn't alive to tell Luke herself, God had directed John to this 
letter.
John felt the presence of the Holy Spirit in the room with him. You are so good 
to me, God. Thank You. This is just what I needed.
His hands shook a little as he continued reading.
Anyway, I thought it was important, so I wrote down everything we've learned 
over the years. The secret to our love. I guess. I've made copies, one for each 
of the kids. I'll give it to them when they get married. I love you, John. 
Thanks for making it so easy.
Your Elizabeth
Her voice hung in the hallways of his heart, and the ache hit him again. The one 
that served as a constant reminder that she was gone. She must've forgotten 
about the letters, too busy with wedding plans for each of the girls and too 
caught by surprise for Luke's wedding. Still, God in all His goodness had 
brought her words to the surface just when they were most needed.
170 
John looked at the pages on the bed and wondered. He sorted through them. Sure 
enough, there weren't five copies; there were six. Because always and ever 
Elizabeth had included Dayne. He had been in her heart from the moment she first 
held him until her dying day. Her firstborn. She wouldn't have spelled it out. 
wouldn't have jeopardized the sanctity of their family. Especiall as far back as 
ten years ago. If anyone else had stumbled onto the envelope prior to learning 
about Dayne, they would've assumed only that she'd made one too many copies.
But that wasn't the case. He knew her better.
Six children. Six copies. Period.
It was one of the ways she could keep Dayne's memory alive in her heart, 
including him when she thought about the future of her children.
Tenderly, John folded the pages and put them back into the envelope. He would 
give the letters to the girls later.
But he would mail Luke's copy tomorrow. His mother's advice couldn't be 
timelier. John remembered the hurt in Reagan's voice, the way she'd broken down 
during their conversation earlier tonight. Yes, he would send the letter right 
away.
There was no time to lose.
First thing the next morning, John was on the way to the post office when he 
spotted someone parked on the road at the end of his driveway. Strange, he 
thought. People looking for him would've come up the driveway and knocked on the 
door. Same as if the person was looking for one of John's neighbors. Maybe the 
driver was lost.
He headed down his driveway, and as he reached the parked car, a man jumped out 
and quickly held a black piece of equipment up to his face. For a split second 
John thought it was a rifle and the man was a lunatic trying to kill him. But as 
he made his turn, he realized that the piece of equipment wasn't a gun.
It was a camera.
171 
T HE CHURCH service Sunday moved both Ashley and Landon.
Pastor Mark Atteberry had preached on service and how God's people were created 
to serve. "The 'one anothering' that goes on throughout the Bible is proof 
enough. Every day you should wake up and ask God what He wants you to do that 
day, how you can serve someone else. Whatever your troubles, serving others is 
one of the greatest cures."
When they'd collected Cole from his Sunday school classroom and Devin from the 
nursery, Ashley linked her arm through Landon's. "That sermon made me think of 
you."
"Oh yeah?" He had Devin's baby carrier hooked on his other arm. Cole danced 
merrily in front of them as they walked.
"Yeah." She nuzzled against his shoulder then released his arm. "That's all you 
ever do. Serve people. Ever since I've known you."
"Well . . . I'm not sure about that." He grinned at her. "There was that one 
time at the last Fourth of July picnic when I tried my hardest to beat your dad 
in a fishing contest."
"You still ended up serving, Daddy." Cole turned around and flashed a smile at 
him. "Sort of."
172 
"Is that right?" Landon rubbed the top of Cole's head. "How so?"
"Because Papa won, and you had to go in the lake with all your clothes on." Cole 
was reduced to giggles at the memory. "Maybe you didn't mean it to happen, but 
that was fun for the rest of us."
Ashley laughed too.
Landon set Devin's baby carrier down and did a reenactment of himself splashing 
around the shallow lake water in his clothes. "How's that?" He picked up the 
carrier again.
"Funny!" Cole laughed harder than before. "So funny."
"Yep, that's me." Landon found his place next to Ashley again. "Anything to keep 
the rest of you happy."
Cole's giggles faded as he skipped toward their Durango.
"I'm serious, though." Ashley looked up at Landon. "Pastor Mark spent the hour 
talking about service, and all I could think about was you. Out there fighting 
fires and saving lives, running off to New York City to find Jalen." Her voice 
fell a notch. "Chasing after me, even when I was a complete brat."
Landon smiled. "Is that what you were?"
"Sometimes." She gave him a wary look.
"Sometimes?" He stopped and faced her. His eyes danced.
"Okay, a lot of times." She loved the way they could stop on a dime and find 
that place of butterflies and magic, that crazy-inlove feeling that put them in 
their own world, even in the middle of the church parking lot.
"Yeah." He touched her face and worked his fingers into her hair. "A lot of 
times."
"But there you were . . . hanging around again and again for me."
"For you?" He chuckled. "That was for Cole, you mean." "Guys!" Cole was hopping 
up and down near the SUV.
"Hurry with all that mushy stuff. I have to go to the bathroom." Ashley and 
Landon laughed.
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"We're coming." Then Ashley eased her hand along her husband's neck and cradled 
the back of his head. She drew him closer and kissed him. "Okay, for Cole." 
There were no churchgoers nearby, so she kissed him again. "But see, you were 
thinking of everyone but yourself."
He brushed his face against hers. "You mean like when you framed a roomful of 
old photographs so a sweet old lady could live with the memories of her husband, 
or when you bought a saddle on eBay so an old man could remember the days of his 
youth?" He smiled. "Like when you dropped everything to go to California with 
your dad so you could make sure your injured brother would feel cared for? And 
when you keep stepping in and helping with CKT without any pay just because you 
like watching kids enjoy theater?" He took a step back, and the teasing in his 
eyes changed to something much deeper. "I think you know a thing or two about 
serving."
Ashley was touched more than Landon could ever know. That he had a servant's 
heart was obvious. But her? The selfish middle daughter who left Bloomington for 
Paris and had a shameful affair with a Parisian artist? The one who came home 
pregnant and alone and often allowed her mother to raise her son so she could 
pursue her painting dreams? Even now she didn't think of herself as particularly 
helpful or generous.
But Landon did.
She thought about Dayne as they drove home, packed a picnic, and headed for Lake 
Monroe. If anyone needed service it was Dayne and Katy. He was still in the coma 
with no sign of coming out of it. And Katy still needed help getting their house 
together. Because one day Dayne would wake up and he would talk and think like 
the Dayne he'd been before the accident, and come Thanksgiving he would need a 
house to live in. Ashley had an idea that could make all the repairs come 
together by then. Her dad was going to meet them at the lake, and Kari and 
Brooke and their families too. Temperatures were in the eighties173
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summer's last glorious ride before fall would take the reins Before the 
afternoon ended, Ashley wanted to tell them what she'd been thinking.
They reached the familiar picnic spot first, and when they were settled at a 
table halfway between the parking lot and the water, Landon set up a canopy to 
keep the sun off them.
Devin was awake and cooing. He was jabbering in a precious language all his own, 
and he laughed whenever Cole was around.
"Can I catch him a snake, Mommy?" Cole peered in at his brother and patted his 
forehead.
"Babies don't like snakes."
"He might." Landon shared a conspiring look with Cole. "Go ahead. Just stay 
there in the grass where we can see you, okay, buddy?"
"Okay!" He looked back at Devin. "Wait'll you see the snakes they got out here. 
The big ones are four feet long!"
Ashley let out an exasperated groan. "All snakes must go to Daddy before they go 
to Devin. That's Mommy's rule."
Landon nodded, but he grinned at Cole. "Bring 'em here first, all right?"
"I will!" With that, Cole was off for the patch of grass a few yards away.
"He's pretty good at catching snakes, you know." Landon sat down on the edge of 
the table and put his finger out near Devin. The baby grabbed hold of it and 
smiled.
"He loves you."
"Yeah, well, I love him back." Landon leaned in and kissed the baby's head. He 
glanced at Ashley over his shoulder. "Don't worry about the snakes. They're 
harmless. Garter snakes, nothing more."
Ashley made a face. "I just wish he'd stick to frogs."
Landon laughed. He got up and took a few steps in Cole's direction. "Maybe I 
better go help."
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"See . . . there you go. Always serving."
He waved at her, brushing off her comment, and jogged toward Cole.
Over the next half hour, the others arrived. Maddie and Hayley and Jessie joined 
the hunt for a snake. Then Kari's husband, Ryan, joined in.
They asked Peter to help, but he declined. "I saw enough frogs and snakes in 
biology courses. I'll sit here with the women."
"And me." Ashley's father was making his way toward them. "I'll sit with the 
women too. My snake-catching days are over. The old knees can't take all that 
crawling around."
Everyone laughed, and Brooke shrugged. "I thought we came to the lake so the 
kids could cool off in the water."
"Oh no. That would be too logical." Kari held on to little Ryan's hand. He 
wanted to play with the big kids, but he still needed constant attention. 
Otherwise he'd eat a rock or wander up to the parking lot. Whenever the family 
was together lately, Kari spent most of her time chasing after her son.
Ashley grinned at the picture her sister and nephew made together. Soon enough, 
that would be her with Devin. Already she couldn't believe how fast he'd grown. 
Just yesterday she'd found a picture of him at four weeks old. She put it in a 
box of images to include in a painting someday. . . when the demands of CKT and 
raising a baby and helping Katy Hart with the lakeside house all let up.
Which reminded her. . . maybe now was a good time to tell her family the plan 
she'd been cooking up, the way they could serve the older Baxter son. She was 
about to make an announcement when Cole stood straight up and raised both hands 
in the air. Stretched between them was the largest garter snake Ashley had ever 
seen.
"It's the biggest one ever!" Cole jumped around, settling down only because he 
seemed to become suddenly worried that 
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the snake might not enjoy the commotion. He hovered over it, and in seconds he 
was surrounded by his cousins.
"Cole, that's so cool!" Jessie's face was shining with admiration. "Can I touch 
it?"
Hayley and Maddie weren't so sure. They kept their distance and only ventured 
near when Landon and Ryan assured them the snake wouldn't bite.
"Please, Daddy, can I show Devin?" Cole asked.
Ashley caught Landon's eye and shook her head. "Please," she mouthed.
"How about just from a distance?" He shot her a sheepish smile. Then he led the 
group of snake hunters over to the group of nonhunters. Ashley had already fed 
Devin, and he was still awake. Landon stopped and held up his hand. "No closer 
than this, Cole."
His cousins formed a half circle around him and everyone watched.
Cole held up the snake. "Look, Devin. I caught you a snake." His voice brimmed 
with excitement. "But you have to grow up before you can play with it."
Devin couldn't possibly have known what was happening, but Cole's voice made him 
look in that direction, and he almost seemed to see the snake in his brother's 
hands. Either way, just at that moment he let out a sudden loud squeal followed 
by a hearty laugh.
"See!" Cole looked at Landon and Ashley. "I knew he'd love it."
Everyone laughed, and Landon led Cole back to the grass so he could release the 
snake. "You can catch it again when Devin's bigger," Landon was saying as they 
walked away.
Finally, when the incident with the snake had passed, the group washed their 
hands and gathered in a circle of folding chairs for their late lunch.
Ashley surveyed the group. There would never be a better chance to tell them 
about her plan. "I loved the sermon today.
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How we all need to serve because, you know, it's God's plan for us."
Her father nodded. "The message was strong." He looked sadder than usual. 
Probably because of Dayne.
Ashley didn't point this out. "Anyway, I had an idea, something I want to 
suggest." She hesitated. All eyes were on her. "It's something we can all do 
together to serve Dayne and Katy."
"What's your idea?" Kari was first to respond. She had admitted since the 
accident that she felt terrible not helping Dayne somehow.
Ashley paused, gathering her thoughts. "I've talked with three contractors since 
I've been back from LA. The one Katy planned to work with and two others. All 
three say there's no way they can get the work on that lake house finished until 
next summer. Which is way too late."
"Have we heard anything new about Dayne's condition?" Peter was helping Hayley 
with her potato salad. The child was making weekly advances in her recovery from 
the near drowning, but she still needed assistance.
The question didn't surprise Ashley. Peter was a doctor and analytical. The 
point he was making was obvious. If Dayne was still in a coma, if the extent of 
his brain injury wasn't even known yet, then why rush to fix up an old house? 
Ashley prayed for the right words. She looked at her brother-in-law, willing him 
to understand. She needed everyone's enthusiasm for her idea to work. "No, 
Dayne's still in the coma."
"But we're praying for a miracle." Her father nodded at the faces around him. 
"We're all praying for a miracle."
"Exactly." Ashley kept the conversation moving. "The Bible says that anyone who 
asks God and then doubts is like a wave tossed around on the ocean. It says that 
in James."
"So. . . you're saying we have to believe that Dayne will wake up." Peter looked 
respectful but skeptical. "And we should move forward in that same belief."
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"Yes." Ashley felt him catching her enthusiasm.
Peter nodded. "Okay, so what's your idea?"
"If the subcontractors in Bloomington are too busy to work a renovation into 
their schedules before winter, then maybe it's up to us."
"Us?" Ryan put his arm around Kari and leaned in closer. "You want us to call 
and bug the guys, so they'll make it a priority?"
"No." Ashley smiled. She loved Ryan. He and Kari were perfect together. Ashley 
looked around the circle. "You've all seen that TV show Extreme Makeover: Home 
Edition, right?"
Next to her, she felt Landon sit a little straighter. "They bring in a crew and 
a bunch of supplies and fix up a house in just one week."
"Right!" Ashley could barely contain her excitement. "Now, among us we have some 
knowledge of building houses, don't we?" She looked at Ryan. "You used to do 
framing between school years in college, right?"
"I framed and did the roofing. Hours and hours of it."
Ashley clapped. "See, that's what I'm talking about." She glanced at Kari. "You 
have an eye for design. You could pick out the windows and molding and doors."
"And I could help hang them." Peter laughed. "I haven't worked in construction 
since high school, but that's something you don't forget."
"I could paint." Brooke put her hands on her knees. Her eyes sparkled at the 
thought. "After the tornado last spring I repainted the entire back porch, 
inside and out."
"I told her not to give up her day job." Peter kissed Brooke on the cheek. 
"She's too brilliant a doctor for that." He winked at Ashley. "But she can hold 
her own with a can of paint and a brush. That's for sure."
Ashley wondered if anyone else picked up on the underlying message. In their 
early years of marriage, Peter had always doubted Brooke's ability as a doctor. 
Especially when Maddie
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had suffered from unexplainable high fevers. But after Hayley's accident, he had 
a complete change of heart. Now his respect for Brooke's talent as a doctor was 
unmatched.
"What about Luke and Erin?" Kari directed the question to their dad. "Is there a 
way we could involve them?"
"About Luke . . " The sorrow in their father's face was not something he could 
hide. "He and Reagan are having some trouble."
"What?" Kari and Brooke both responded at the same time. Kari's face lost some 
of its color. "How come we haven't heard about this?"
"I just found out." Their father rubbed his forehead. He looked like he'd aged 
five years in the last few months. "I think everything will be okay. I found 
something your mother wrote about-" he swallowed, clearly overcome by a sudden 
wave of emotion-"something she wrote about marriage. About the secrets to having 
a strong marriage. She made a copy for each of you. Even for Dayne. I'll make 
sure you get them later." He paused, as if he were trying to remember his point. 
"Anyway, I've sent a copy to Luke. I'm praying it'll help."
Ashley tried to take in everything her father was saying. Luke's marriage was in 
trouble? Was that why Luke had been so standoffish every time they'd talked 
lately? All this time she'd thought it had to do with his jealousy toward Dayne, 
but maybe there was something else going on. And then the bit about their 
mother? She'd written them a letter about marriage? As happy as she and Landon 
were, she was suddenly desperate to read what her mother had written, the wisdom 
that she thought was necessary for a marriage to flourish.
But they were getting sidetracked, so Ashley continued. "I don't think we can 
count on Erin or Luke, to be honest. Erin has four little girls running around. 
If she came, someone would have to watch them. And Luke isn't planning to be 
here until the Saturday before Thanksgiving."
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, 
FOREVER 
Her father folded his hands. His knuckles were white, a like! \ sign that he was 
more troubled about Luke than he let on. "Okay, so who else can we think of?"
Ryan held up his finger. "A few of the coaches worked together this past summer 
and built a deck on one of then homes."
"Do you think you could get them to help us out?"
"Yes." Ryan stroked his chin. A grin tugged at the corners o I his lips. "For 
free tickets to a Colts game I think I can talk then into just about anything."
A ripple of laughter eased the tension from the group. After that conversations 
broke out all around Ashley. Ryan told Landon that he could probably get the 
football team involved, at least in the beginning when a couple workdays would 
be needed to clear out the debris. Brooke and Peter and Kari started talking 
about windows and interior paint.
They'd have to find someone to help with tiling and countertops and appliances, 
but as the excitement and enthusiasm built, anything seemed possible.
Before cleaning up the picnic, they prayed for Luke, that he and Reagan would 
work things out and that the letter from their mother might open his eyes to all 
that was at stake in his marriage.
By the time they headed for their cars, the entire group was buzzing about the 
work project. Even the kids were excited.
"I always wanted to do an extreme home makeover, Daddy." Cole held Landon's 
hand. "I'll hammer the nails, okay?"
Ashley imagined the way it would all come together. Dayne would wake up, and 
gradually he'd make a complete recovery. Then on Thanksgiving morning, they'd 
find a reason to ask him and Katy out to the lake house. And everyone who had 
worked on the project would stand around and cheer in the yard of a house that 
was completely made over.
Her heart swelled as she pictured Dayne's reaction. He would
181 
never again have to wonder if the Baxters wanted to include him as part of their 
family. He would know he belonged. The house would forever be proof.
The group kept walking. "I'll cut the wood." Maddie tugged on Peter's sleeve. 
"Right, Daddy? Girls can cut wood, right?"
They all laughed, dreaming out loud about the possibilities. Ashley was just 
about to suggest they hold another meeting in a week to bring in as many ideas 
as possible when her dad made a sudden stop.
"Everyone . . . get to your cars right away!" His voice was loud and stern. 
"Now. We can talk later."
It took a moment for everyone to react, but almost at the same time Ashley's 
sisters and their husbands seemed to see the cause of her dad's alarm. They 
sheltered the children and hurried toward their vehicles. Bags were tossed into 
the backs of their cars, and doors were locked.
Ashley secured Devin's infant carrier into the backseat and then slid in and 
shut her door. By then Cole had buckled himself in and Landon had started the 
engine.
Her dad was the only one not rushing. Instead he planted himself behind his car 
and stared across the parking lot.
Ashley followed his gaze, and she saw what he was looking at. Parked across the 
lot were two cars, and leaning out the windows were two men, aiming something 
straight at them. She'd spent enough time in LA to understand what was 
happening. The men were paparazzi, and the items in their hands were high- 
powered cameras. Whatever the tabloids were working on, the story was heating 
up.
The Baxters had been discovered.
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4111 
183 
B A ILEY K E P et up on the situation with Dayne and Katy through her mother. 
Katy called almost every night, and afterwards Bailey would find her mom and get 
the latest. It was Wednesday evening, and Katy hadn't called yet. But 
yesterday's news was the same as every day for the past three weeks. Dayne was 
still in a coma. Everyone needed to keep praying. All of CKT was asking God to 
give Katy and Dayne a miracle.
In some ways the ordeal reminded Bailey of how things had been after the other 
car accident, the one that killed Sarah Jo Stryker and Ben Hanover, the little 
brother of one of the CKT kids. That time a drunk driver had done the damage, 
and Bailey had spent weeks afterwards being so furious she could hardly 
concentrate in school. In the end, a bunch of them had gone to the jail and met 
with the guy. He was young, still a teenager. All the CKT kids who went made a 
line, and one at a time they approached him and told him they forgave him.
Nothing had ever made Bailey feel so good. And even though the anger had 
returned dozens of time since then, always she
184 
would remember the drunk driver's face and how he'd wept because he didn't 
deserve to be forgiven.
"That," her mother had told them when they reached the cat that afternoon, "is 
the way all of us should feel when we come to Christ. He steps into our lives 
and offers us forgiveness we don't deserve. And all we can do is open our hearts 
and weep over Hi amazing grace."
Her mom's words had stayed with her, but now the anger wa,-, back in a different 
way. Anger toward the paparazzi. All Dayne wanted to do was get to the airport. 
He was supposed to make it to the retreat-center auditorium in time to see The 
Wiz, but instead he never even made it on the plane. All because a dozen 
photographers were chasing him down some highway.
The situation was wrong, and the only way Bailey could keep it from eating at 
her day and night was by taking action. She'd created a MySpace page where she 
and the kids from CKT could post prayers and messages for Dayne and Katy. That 
way when he woke up-and he would wake up; she had to believe that- he and Katy 
could see the page and know how much people cared about them.
Computers at the Flanigan house were kept in the open in an alcove off the main 
walkway through the kitchen. There were three computers in that space, and 
Bailey sat down at the middle one. The boys were already in bed, even Connor. 
Auditions for CKT's Cinderella were in two days, and he wanted to make sure he 
wasn't run-down. She moved the mouse and brought the computer to life. At the 
same time she heard the front door open. She looked at the time on the screen. 
Just before nine o'clock.
"Cody, is that you?" Her mother was in the kitchen slicing vegetables for her 
homemade soup.
"Yep," he called from the entrance. "Right on time."
Bailey rolled her eyes. She typed in the address for MySpace and waited. Cody 
was always coming home right before curfew. He had a car, and when he lived at 
home with his mother
185 
before she was sent to jail-he could come home at any hour day or night. Now he 
agreed with Bailey's parents that structure was a good thing. But he never came 
home early.
She heard him walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. "Did I miss dinner?"
The page popped up before Bailey looked over her shoulder. "A long time ago."
"Hey-" Cody grinned at her-"I didn't see you there." He took the seat next to 
her. "Whatcha doing?"
"Checking MySpace."
"You're still into that?" He stretched out his legs and came very close to 
brushing up against hers.
"No. It's not for me." She slid over, making sure there was ample space between 
them. Everything about Cody was wrong for her, but no matter what he did to bug 
her-flirting with Katy, coming home late, or hanging out with the senior girls 
from school-she couldn't stay mad at him. And she couldn't stop herself from 
being attracted to him. She was breathing, after all. "It's for Dayne. It's the 
prayer page I made for him and Katy. You have to know the password to get in."
"Oh." Cody's voice held a level of remorse. "Do you have your own page?"
"Not since a year ago. It's too crazy, too much gossip." She glanced at him. "I 
have enough in my life without finding it on MySpace."
He winced. "Why do I think there's a message in that for me?"
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. "Think what you want." She turned her 
attention to the computer screen. The main photo was a picture of Katy and Dayne 
taken at the Baxter house during the dinner they'd all had there in July. Where 
the usual profile was, Bailey had posted this message:
As you know, Dayne Matthews was in a serious car accident. Katy Hart is staying 
with him in Los
186 
Angeles until he recovers. At this time, we're asking everyone to post prayers 
and messages for Dayne and Katy. He's in a coma, and when he comes out of it, we 
want both of them to know how much we love them and how much we're looking 
forward to having him move to Bloomington, where the paparazzi won't be chasing 
him everywhere he goes.
Beneath her message were the posts from other people. Bailey had sent an e-mail 
to every family who had ever participated in CKT, giving them the password and 
asking them to keep the board private. The last thing they needed was the media 
finding out about Dayne's plans to marry Katy and move to Bloomington.
"Scroll down." Cody leaned in. Whatever cologne he was wearing-Abercrombie or 
Hollister-it smelled wonderful. Bailey tried not to notice.
She did as he asked, and together they read the most recent messages. There was 
one from Tim Reed that referred to the few times Tim had met Dayne. We're all 
pulling for you. Can't wait to see you make a full recovery.
After that was a message from one of the Shaffers and a beautiful prayer by 
Stephen Pick. The next message was in a weird font. The type size was a mix of 
small and large letters. As soon as Bailey started to read it, she felt her 
heart slam into double time.
Dayne Matthews is nothing but a vegetable. All you people are wasting your time. 
Give up and get a life.
Bailey shrieked. She stood and smacked her hand against the computer screen.
"Hey-" her mother's tone carried a warning-"you didn't pay for that."
187 
"I know." She dropped back to her seat. "I'm sorry." She made a fist and pounded 
it on the counter. "How can they say that? And how did someone who isn't part of 
CKT get the password?"
"What happened?" Her mom must've put down the cabbage she was cutting. Bailey 
could hear her footsteps coming up behind her.
Bailey pointed to the screen. "Read that." She wanted to scream, but her voice 
broke instead. "How can someone say such a thing?"
She didn't want to cry, not with Cody sitting next to her.
When her mom finished reading it, she hugged Bailey's shoulders from behind. 
"I'm sorry, honey. That's a lie and it's mean."
The phone rang, and her mom gave her shoulder a final pat. "Let me get that. 
It's probably Katy." Bailey heard her walk across the kitchen to the far 
windows, toward the phone.
So far Cody hadn't said anything. But now that they were alone he put his arm 
around Bailey's shoulders. "That's terrible. The idiot has the sensitivity of a 
pit bull."
Bailey wasn't sure what she was feeling, but having Cody's arm around her took 
the edge off her anger. He gave her a sideways hug and then released her. Even 
then he leaned in close. "Here. Slide over a little."
She did, and he moved into her spot. His hands hovered over the keyboard, and he 
pulled up a message form. In the box provided he typed: Whoever said Dayne 
Matthews is a vegetable is a moron. Dayne is in a coma, and the doctors think 
he's going to pull out of it. You should be begging God for a miracle, not 
assuming the worst. Whoever you are, this is a private board. Stay off. Cody hit 
the Enter button. The message showed up immediately.
The anger Bailey felt a moment earlier was gone. She wasn't even sure what to 
say. She blinked back tears so Cody wouldn't see her cry. "That ... that was the 
nicest thing, Cody."
He stood and took hold of her hands. Then he pulled her to her feet and slipped 
his arms around her.
188 
His hug was nothing more than what she'd seen him give mother a time or two, but 
her head swam all the same. A part 01 her didn't ever want him to let go.
"It's okay to cry, Bailey. You don't have to always be so strong. She pressed 
her head against his chest and held on. "I can t believe it happened again. 
Another car accident."
"I know." He ran his hand over her back. "That's why it's oka to be sad." In the 
background, they heard her mom wrapping up her phone call. Cody eased back and 
put his hands on her shou I ders again. "Hey." He searched her eyes.
The space around the computers was dark, and the moment felt strangely 
forbidden. Bailey tried to exhale. "What?"
"Sometimes you treat me like the enemy. How come?"
"Because." She couldn't meet his gaze another second. She looked down. Something 
about the moment, about the way he'd come to her rescue a few minutes ago, made 
Bailey more honest than she'd ever been before. She found his eyes again. "I 
don't want to like you. That's why."
He gave her a goofy smile. "Me?" He angled his head, his eyes looking way past 
the surface of her heart. "What did I ever do to you, Miss Bailey Flanigan? 
You're the one with the boyfriend."
A nervous giggle escaped her before she could stop it. "You flirt with every 
girl in sight. Here . . . at school." She tried to find her polished persona, 
the one she could usually whip out whenever Cody was around. But it wasn't 
there. "You're here because my family loves you, but you're a player. I can 
never, ever fall for you." She gently took his hands from her shoulders and 
returned them to his sides. "I promised my parents."
Cody looked hurt. "Really?"
"Yeah. Nothing against you, but . . . well, you know. My dad isn't, like, in the 
dark about your reputation. He wants me to see you as a brother." She grinned at 
him. The air between them changed; the danger from a few heartbeats ago had 
passed. "Most of the time it's pretty easy to do that."
FOREVER FOREVER
189 
"Oh." The hurt was gone, or at least he was no longer letting it show. "All 
right, Sis, so here's my new goal."
Bailey couldn't stop her eyes from dancing. She could feel the way they shone 
all the way to her core. The guy's charm was beyond anything even he could've 
understood. "What?"
"By the time I leave for college, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me 
you saw a change in me. Tell me that I'm not a player anymore."
"Really?" Bailey heard the teasing in her voice. "Pretty big order."
"Only say it if it's true." He reached out and touched the side of her face. The 
sort of thing Connor had done a time or two when he was giving her a compliment. 
The lightheartedness in his voice faded. "And it will be. I promise."
Her mother walked up just then. She hesitated, looking from Bailey to Cody and 
back again. "Did I miss something?"
"Yes." Bailey recovered quickly. She would tell her mom everything later-she 
always did. But she didn't want Cody to know that. "Cody was just telling me how 
he doesn't want to be a player anymore."
"Turning over a new leaf, huh?" Her mom gave Cody a doubtful smile. "That's what 
we're praying for. It's why you're here."
"I'll keep that in mind. Good night, Mrs. Flanigan." He chuckled and nodded 
toward Bailey's mother. But then he shifted his attention to her, and there was 
something deeper in his look. "Good night, Bailey."
"Good night." Her cheeks felt hot.
When Cody had walked down the hall to the downstairs guest room and they heard 
him close the door behind him, Bailey's mom gave her a questioning look. "What 
was that all about?"
"I don't know." Bailey dropped to her seat and pressed her palms against her hot 
cheeks. "He's so confusing."
Her mom didn't look concerned. There was a trust between
190 Lc!,
FOREVER
them, one that was stronger than any of her friends had with their mothers. 
"Wanna tell me about it?"
Bailey exhaled, and she realized she'd been holding her breath. "I wish my 
cheeks would cool off."
"What did he say while I was on the phone?"
"Okay, so you know that horrible post, the one about Dayne?" Her mom took the 
seat next to her and looked at the computer screen. "Yes."
"Well, as soon as the phone rang, Cody had me move and he took over on the 
computer. He left a message saying that whoever made that post was a moron." She 
made a dreamy-sounding sigh. "Wasn't that so nice of him, Mom?"
She put her hand on Bailey's knee. "Remember what we talked about before Cody 
moved in with us." She raised her eyebrows. "You promised, Bailey."
"I know." She tried to sound sensible. "When I think about his past and the 
girls he's flirting with and how he could fall back into drinking at any moment, 
I'm not interested. Of course I'm not interested." She felt her expression 
soften. "Except why does he have to smell so good?"
Her mom laughed quietly under her breath. "How's Tanner doing?"
"Good. He and I are talking more. Whenever Dad's not driving him into the ground 
at football practice." Bailey smiled and thought for a moment. "He's really more 
like a great friend than a boyfriend, you know? He doesn't ever pressure me."
"He respects you." Her mom slid a little closer so their knees were touching. 
"And Tim?"
"I don't know." Bailey had seen a change in her CKT friend. He was driving now, 
and he seemed to spend more time with his church friends than before. "He's not 
interested in me."
"What about Bryan Smythe?"
"I'm not sure. He says all the right things, but I never see him. Only at CKT 
stuff. He's a player too. Just like Cody."
191 
"That's the nature of a teenage boy, Bailey." Her tone was kind, gentle. 
"Eventually they grow up. But between now and then it can be a lot of heartache. 
You're lucky you have a friend in Tanner Williams."
"Yeah." She blew at a piece of her bangs. She wore them to the side these days, 
and they needed cutting. "None of the other guys are worth liking. Not at this 
point."
"Well then, that means our prayers are being answered."
"Prayers?" Bailey loved these moments when no one else was around and she and 
her mom could share their hearts so easily.
"Yes." She reached out and framed Bailey's face with her hands. "Since you were 
born we've prayed for you. Your father and I. We prayed that God would make you 
into that one-in-amillion girl who wouldn't be dragged into something you'd 
regret. We prayed that love wouldn't really awaken in you until it was God's 
timing. These years are for you and God, so you'll become who He wants you to 
be."
Bailey smiled. She'd heard this before, but she never grew tired of knowing that 
her parents loved her enough to pray that way for her. She did a quick survey of 
her life. "If the guys I know are any indication, I'd definitely agree. God's 
answering your prayers big-time."
Her mother's smile fell, and she lowered her hands to her lap. "We need to pray 
about something else too."
Bailey's heart raced, thinking it must be about Katy. Every other time she had 
called, the news had been the same: No change. Keep praying. But this time her 
mother looked almost sick. Whatever the news was, it couldn't be good. "Was that 
Katy on the phone?"
"Yes. She talked to the doctor today."
"And. . ."
"The news was pretty clear-cut. If Dayne doesn't come out of the coma sometime 
in the next week to ten days, the possibility of his ever coming out goes down 
to only 5 percent."
192 
"What?" Bailey shrieked the way she had when she read the awful message. Then 
she waved her apology, lowered her voice, and tried again. Already there were 
fresh tears in her eyes. "Only 5 percent? That's really what they told her?"
"If he comes out now, there's still a chance for recovery." Her mom sounded 
defeated. "But if we go another ten days at the most, the doctors want Katy to 
know the situation will be very, very serious."
Bailey gripped the edge of the counter and slid her chair in front of the 
keyboard. "That means I need to post a message telling everyone to pray extra 
hard these next ten days. Because Dayne has to wake up, Mom." Two tears splashed 
onto her cheeks. "He can't just lie there the rest of his life. Katy loves him 
too much for that."
"She does. You're right. We have to believe in miracles." Her mom pulled her 
into a hug.
Bailey cherished the feeling, safe in her mother's arms, believing Dayne would 
receive a miracle and knowing that even if they ran out of time, God could still 
pull him through somehow. Because that's what her mother believed. And at that 
moment, Bailey would rather be in her mom's arms than anyone else's.
Even Cody Coleman's.
Before Bailey went to bed, she and her mom bowed their heads and asked God to 
wake up Dayne Matthews-the sooner the better-and to bring about healing for 
Dayne and Katy and anyone else who was hurting tonight because of what had 
happened.
were doing a story on the Baxter family it would appear today.
Luke went online before he le for work in the morning and searched for Hollywood 
gossip agazines. The rest of his family had apparently been photographd by 
paparazzi-in Blooming- ton, of all places. New issues hit the stands each 
Monday, so if they
ft me th f
193 
He did a quick check through three of the magazines but found nothing except 
more stories on Dayne. How he was still fighting for his life, and-according to 
the ever-available "sources"-he might never recover fully even if he did come 
out of the coma.
The stories focused equally on Katy Hart and the bedside vigil she was keeping. 
Each was accompanied by photos of Katy rushing through the doors of the hospital 
or getting into a car or walking into a hotel. In several pictures she had her 
hand or her purse up, shielding her face. Every shot made her look weary and 
frightened. Desperate to be free from the paparazzi-same as Dayne must've been.
The articles also detailed the prognosis of Dayne's injuries. He would keep his 
leg, but doctors questioned whether he would ever walk normally again. Also, the 
stories cited statistics on brain injuries-how the vast majority leave at least 
some lingering damage, and how in a great percentage of the cases after waking 
from a coma, the victims are simply not the people they were before the injury.
Luke closed out the screen. He felt sick to his stomach. It wasn't that he had a 
problem with Dayne personally. The guy had been nice enough when they spent the 
week of the trial together. Not cocky or full of himself.
The problem wasn't with Dayne; it was with Luke's family. Okay, so Dayne was 
related to them. So what? How were they ever supposed to have another normal 
Baxter reunion with a movie star hanging around? And where did the arrival of 
Dayne leave Luke? The lesser of two sons? Was that all his entire life up until 
this point amounted to?
The seriousness of the situation was wearing on everyone he loved. Ashley and 
his other sisters could talk about nothing else-as if by keeping Dayne's name 
alive in conversation they could will him out of the coma.
Luke pushed his chair back from the computer. He hated
194 
thinking like this; it made him feel small and mean and far from God. But every 
time he prayed for Dayne, every time he tried to think about the situation the 
way his sisters and his father thought about it, his mind led him on the same 
angry rabbit trail.
The change in him was obvious to his father. He'd called twice since Luke's 
blowup with Reagan.
His dad's voice had been heavy from the moment Luke took the call. "I talked to 
Reagan."
The statement knocked Luke back against the wall. "About?" "About the two of 
you. She told me."
Anger spoke first. "She's already told you her side of the story, so what's 
to-?"
"Luke." His father's voice was firm. "She told me you were thinking of 
separating. Nothing more."
"We're not really." He'd been too busy at work, too busy thinking about the 
situation with Dayne to consider that a separation might actually take place. "I 
mean . . . we haven't made plans or anything."
"Sometimes divorce is as easy as opening a door, Son. Open it just a crack, and 
the winds of discontent and frustration can blow it wide open."
Luke hadn't been sure what to say. His father had always talked with him this 
way, whatever the situation. Over the years a handful of his father's profound 
statements had stayed with him. They would stay with him until the day he died.
This was one of them.
Even so, Luke downplayed the need for help or counseling or even fatherly 
advice. He pressed the phone closer to his head and tried to keep his emotions 
at bay. "Thanks, Dad." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "We'll work 
it out. We will."
Before the call ended, his dad had told him he'd put a letter in the mail. One 
that his mother had written years ago. "It's the secret to a happy marriage. 
Something she wanted each of you kids to understand." His voice had been riddled 
with sadness.
195 
"The years must've made her forget about the letters because she didn't hand 
them out. But I found them in an envelope, and I knew it was God's timing. 
Exactly when you needed it. She made a copy for each of you."
Luke's back stiffened. He opened his eyes and looked at the floor. "How many 
copies?"
"Six." His father hadn't missed a beat. "Like I said. One for each of you."
The conversation faded, and Luke headed for the front door. Six indeed.
For a moment he stopped and looked down the hallway toward the room he and 
Reagan shared. She was sleeping after another long night with Malin. Still . . . 
how long had it been since he'd stopped in to kiss her cheek on the way to work? 
Her secretarial work was only three days a week from noon to three, and with 
Malin's refusal to get on a schedule, Reagan was usually asleep when he slipped 
out.
But for months after Malin came home he would at least go to Reagan's side and 
tell her good-bye, remind her that he loved her more than life. Except now it 
had been-what?-all summer probably since he'd done that. His hesitation didn't 
last long. Reagan was still mad at him, still discouraged with him for more 
reasons than he could count. The timing was wrong to start trying to turn things 
around now. He was already running late because of the time on the computer.
Luke left the apartment, took the elevator down, and headed for the double doors 
of the lobby. The sky was filled with storm clouds, and he remembered that rain 
was in the forecast most of the day. He had no time, but he couldn't afford to 
show up at one of the most prestigious law firms in Lower Manhattan looking like 
he'd been dragged through the gutters.
He checked out an umbrella at the guard desk and hurried out for the three-block 
walk to the nearest subway station. Not until he reached the sidewalk did he see 
the photographer. The guy
196 
was ducking behind a parked car a few feet from the building',, covered 
entrance.
It took no time for Luke to figure out what was going on. The guy was paparazzi. 
Somehow someone had figured out that Luke Baxter lived in the city. They'd 
probably already found out where he worked and that he'd been with Dayne in the 
sensational LA criminal trial. No wonder they looked so much alike No wonder the 
press was sometimes guilty of confusing Luke, the legal assistant, with Dayne, 
the Hollywood heartthrob.
In the time it took Luke to blink, a small, wiry guy with an arsenal of cameras 
and equipment jumped up and blocked his path.
A sudden rage filled Luke, and he glared at the man. This was just the sort of 
thing he wanted to avoid, the type of encounter he and his family never 
should've had to deal with. And all of it was because of Dayne, because his 
father and his sisters wanted so badly to work him into their lives.
The seething thoughts flashed in his mind but not as quickly as the camera lens. 
By the time Luke realized how he must've looked and how many photos the guy had 
already taken, it was too late. "Leave me alone!" His words carried an implied 
warning. With the umbrella and briefcase tucked under his left arm, Luke blocked 
the camera's view with his right and made a sharp turn north toward the subway. 
He tried to blend in with a handful of walkers.
But the photographer was relentless. "Luke Baxter?" The man was behind him now, 
keeping up with him. "You are Luke Baxter, right?"
Luke's heart pounded. He wanted to turn around, grab the guy, and wrap him and 
his camera around the nearest light pole. If it weren't for the crowded streets. 
. . He worked the muscles in his jaw and kept walking.
"Talk to me, Luke." The photographer was jogging to keep up, and by the sound of 
his steps he was dodging people as he came. "Just a few words and I'll leave you 
alone."
197 
Still Luke didn't respond. He hit the first intersection just as the light 
turned red. He had two more blocks and nowhere to turn.
The man maneuvered himself through the people gathering near the curb so that he 
was facing Luke, and even as Luke tried to turn away, the guy wouldn't let up. 
"One question, that's all!" He sucked in the quickest breath. "When did you find 
out Dayne Matthews was your brother?"
That was it. Luke faced the guy and stopped just short of grabbing his camera 
off his neck. "Dayne Matthews is not my brother. Blood does not make him a 
Baxter." The words barely made sense through his clenched teeth. He took a step 
back, rage like hot lava consuming him, flooding his veins. He didn't shout; no 
need to make more of a scene than it already was. Instead he put his face an 
inch from the photographer's. "Listen, jerk. I work in a law office, and if you 
can't respect my privacy-our privacy-you'll find yourself at the wrong end of 
the worst lawsuit you've ever seen."
Instantly a peace came over the man. Luke watched it happen. His shoulders and 
the expression on his face relaxed in the same instant. The fight was over, 
knockout in the first round, the winner barely out of breath. He smiled. 
"Thanks." In his eyes, victory slow danced with pride. Before Luke could react, 
the man lifted his camera and clicked another few shots. Then he pointed at Luke 
in a mock-friendly way. "That'll do it."
The man swung his camera over his shoulder, turned, and pushed through the 
pedestrians, who were by now making their way across the street.
Luke stood there, unable to draw a breath. Signs up and down busy Manhattan 
streets advised people of the one New York City sidewalk rule: No Standing. But 
Luke couldn't help himself. He felt the crowd of people moving past him, and 
only when they'd crossed the street did he finally allow himself to breathe.
What had just happened? How could he have said that to a
198 HIP 
FOREVER 
photographer? The story would be splashed all over the tabloid in a week. 
Sooner, if the guy could find a way to use it. He faced the intersection again, 
but the light was red once more. He leaned against the street sign, his head 
spinning. What exactly had hu said, anyway? And how would the man spin the story 
around the photos?
The light turned green and Luke crossed, but his pace wa,, slower now. Never 
mind getting to work on time. He wanted to turn around and threaten the guy 
again-use his quotes and he'd have a lawsuit on his plate by next week. But a 
sea of people separated them, and Luke had no idea where to find him. Paparazzi 
didn't hand out business cards.
Luke reached the subway station in a kind of automatic mode, because he wasn't 
seeing the people and streets around him. He was seeing his own words in a 
magazine spread. Grief pierced him as he pictured the pain on the faces of 
everyone his words would inevitably hurt. People who had done nothing wrong and 
who had suffered enough. His father and his sisters and Katy Hart.
And most of all, the guy who hadn't asked for any of this, the guy who had tried 
everything-even avoidance-to keep the press from ever knowing about the Baxter 
family. While Luke had thought of no one but himself all summer, the one he'd 
hurt the most now lay knocking on death's door.
The guy who would forever be something neither of them could deny.
Dayne Matthews, his brother.
199 
K ATY SETTLED into the chair by Dayne's bed and studied him. The swelling was 
long gone, but the almost-normal look he'd had the week after his accident was 
gone too. Now his muscles had atrophied, and his face was noticeably thinner 
than it had been. Grayer too. As if the life was draining from him one day at a 
time.
Don't think that way, she told herself. He needs your support. She leaned over 
and touched his forehead. "Dayne, I'm here. Back from lunch." Her throat 
tightened, the way it always did when she talked to him. "I'm going to read the 
Bible to you, okay? I know you can hear me." She searched his eyes, his face. No 
twitches, no reaction at all.
She sighed, giving the pain and tension a way of escape. "I'll start where I 
left off in chapter twelve of Hebrews." She kissed her fingertips and pressed 
them to his cheek. "Probably some of thirteen too."
Touching his brow, his cheek, made her feel as if he were still healthy, still 
the same Dayne she had spoken with the night before the accident. Like he really 
was only sleeping. It was
200 
harder touching his hands, trying to hold his fingers. He was cool and somewhat 
stiff and utterly unresponsive. There was no way to reach for his hand without 
giving in to the sorrow, the tears that were always waiting.
She opened her Bible to Hebrews and began to read. "Therefore, strengthen your 
feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame 
may not be disabled, but rather healed.- She looked at Dayne. Please, God, let 
him not be disabled but rather healed. Like the Scripture says. Please. She 
waited, as if maybe this might be the moment when Dayne would move his toes or 
try to blink.
But he remained motionless.
Against her understanding of faith, hope faded. Some days it was all she could 
do to keep even a flicker of hope burning in the darkness, and this was one of 
those days.
She found her place and continued. "Make every effort to live in peace with all 
men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no 
one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble 
and defile many.-
No bitter root. The words were like a personal warning straight to her soul. 
Some days, when the paparazzi blocked her way into the hospital or into her 
hotel, bitterness defined her. How dare they do this to Dayne and still have the 
nerve to show their faces? She had no place in her heart or mind to even begin 
to understand them. And so she would have to guard against bitterness the way 
people in the Midwest guarded against tornadoes. Constantly. Diligently.
Before she could read on, there was a knock at the door. Dr. Deming entered the 
room and motioned for Katy to follow.
It was the first week of October, four weeks since Dayne's accident. During that 
time she and Dr. Deming had shared many conversations. The woman was kind and 
compassionate and determined to see Dayne through to recovery. For that reason,
201 
when the doctor summoned her from the room she refused to panic. Instead she 
clung to the possibility that this would be the time when she had good news. 
Tests had been done, and Dayne was coming out of the coma-even if Katy couldn't 
exactly tell yet. The doctor could tell her that now, couldn't she? It was 
possible. Katy took another look at Dayne, then stood and followed the doctor 
into the hallway.
Dr. Deming led the way to an office three doors down and pointed to a pair of 
chairs. The walls were filled with photographs of animals and children. When 
they were seated, the doctor set a folder on her lap and folded her arms. "Do 
you understand the time frame we're working with?"
"Time frame?" Katy's blood ran cold. They'd talked about a time frame last week. 
She'd passed on the news to Jenny Flanigan, but since then she'd tried to put 
the information out of her mind. A Bible verse flashed in her mind. "Do not 
worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough 
trouble of its own." That's what she'd read to Dayne a week ago. It was from the 
book of Matthew. She blinked and waited for an explanation.
Dr. Deming reached for the folder. "The prognosis and outcome for people with 
traumatic brain injuries are different for each person. It's the same with the 
staging of a coma." Her voice was gentle. "The problem, Katy, is that Dayne's 
coma hasn't progressed from the first day. In cases such as this, we wait as 
long as we can-hoping for change."
Katy knew what Dr. Deming was going to say next. With everything in her she 
fought to stay seated, to not bolt from the room and run to Dayne and never, 
ever leave his side again. She gripped the edges of the chair. "Yes."
"Unfortunately, if we don't see some sort of sign in the next few days, we'll 
have no choice but to transfer him to a long-term facility. We'll begin the 
process tomorrow."
Tomorrow? The sound of it shook her, threatened to drop her
202 
BO
FOREVER
to her knees. Long-term meant indefinitely. Months and mon then years and years. 
A lifetime even. Where are You, God? \\ isn't Dayne waking up? What's happening 
to us? She tried totill of something to say, but nothing would come. The tick 
olii clock on the opposite wall grew louder. Tick. . . tick. . . ic mocking her, 
laughing at her. Time was running out. An \ now the doctors here would wash 
their hands of Daync. then what?
Dr. Deming was saying something about the transfer and I Dayne would receive 
around-the-clock care, and that as to! he was breathing there was hope. 
"Physical therapists will tinue to work his arms and legs and turn him on a 
regular s(ii ule to encourage circulation."
Turn him? Katy shuddered. Was this really happening was supposed to be back in 
Bloomington working with R11()Iii and Bethany and Ashley on the final details 
for Cinderellti what was this nightmare she was caught up in?
The doctor seemed to be waiting for some kind of respoild Katy swallowed. "So we 
need a miracle."
"Yes." Dr. Deming didn't look confident of the possilu "I'm afraid so." She 
stood. "I will be working with Dayne's of doctors on a placement. There's a very 
capable long 1, facility not too far from here." She pulled a packet from I 
folder and handed it to Katy. "The first page gives details on particular 
location. You can look through a few other choi( the local vicinity." Her 
expression was shadowed with 101 o "We'll be discussing options later today. I 
believe we'll all that the facility closest to the medical center would make Ii 
II smoothest transition." She took a few steps toward the (1,,. "That's all. 
I'll keep you posted about the logistics 01 transfer."
When Dr. Deming was gone, Katy covered her face wit hands. She was alone in the 
room, so it was okay to cry. So d she denied herself the chance. When she was 
with Day
203 
11t.t goal was to stay upbeat. If Dayne could hear her, she utildn't sit at his 
bedside weeping. Never. Tears in Dayne's pres-
it e were silent and hidden. When she took breaks for meals, jr 'lipped into a 
functional existence, numb from the entire sit- kNotion. And when she finally 
made it back to her hotel, she was
Do tired to cry.
But here, with the latest news crashing over her like a collapsig building, the 
ocean of tears inside her finally overflowed. Dr. eming's news was devastating. 
Not because anything had unged but because she was giving up. And she had seemed 
like te would never, ever give up on Dayne. Katy's tears became lbs, and the 
helplessness surrounding her became anger. God fuld've prevented this. He 
could've caused the paparazzi to Ick to their lanes of traffic, and He could've 
let Dayne be ten et farther up the road or ten feet back. Anywhere but in the 
ith of an oncoming truck.
God, I'm so mad. Dayne and I. . . we've been through so much, Id now this? Was 
it wrong to believe that life might actually turn a right? The doctors are 
willing to give up on him, and now You rt loo. Is that it?
Bitterness shot out another root, another branch, and her tort had little room 
to breathe. She wiped her tears, stood, and *Wed to the office window. I'm 
sorry, Lord. I don't want to be Ver. She caught a series of quick breaths. Anger 
doesn't feel ght either.
Across Wilshire Boulevard she spotted a building with a gar- en on top-like the 
hotel where she and Dayne had found race that night during the first part of the 
trial.
"I miss him so much." The words came in anguished whistrs. "We need a miracle, 
Father. I know I'm just one person and and You hear so many cries. But we need 
Your help. Tonight. lease tonight."
Katy held her breath, needing an answer as badly as she t eded her next 
heartbeat. She focused all her senses on just
204 
one-listening. But the only sounds were the tick of the clock and the distant 
hum of traffic on the streets below. She began to shiver, and she realized why. 
Back at the beginning of this freefall, hope had been a roaring flame, warming 
her to her core. But now not even a flicker of hope could be seen, and the dimly 
glowing embers that lay at the deepest, darkest places of her being were not 
enough to make a difference.
She exhaled and hung her head. Dayne couldn't have her like this, weeping, 
falling apart. So maybe she should go somewhere different. Dayne's studio had 
provided her an around-the-clock car and driver. It was the least they could do, 
the director had told her. She could contact the driver and ask to take a drive 
to the mountains or into the desert. Somewhere the paparazzi could not follow 
her to, a place where she could finish crying and beg God again and again for a 
change in Dayne. Yes, that's what she would do. Find a change of scenery.
Before she could find the will to turn around, before she could make herself 
locate the driver's number, she heard footsteps near the door.
"Katy?" It was a woman's voice.
She wiped her eyes and turned toward the sound. Standing there, her eyes red and 
swollen, was Randi Wells.
From the beginning Randi had been on the list of approved visitors. Katy had 
added a few more names-Dayne's current director, his agent, and several people 
whom the two of them suggested. Even so, Katy had seen almost no visitors. His 
agent stopped in once a week, and the director had come by twice. They would 
stand by Dayne's bed, helpless, and after a few minutes they would mumble 
something about being sorry and leave.
Not until now had Katy seen Randi Wells.
Here, in the harsh glow of the fluorescent hospital lights, she didn't look like 
America's golden actress. She looked like any other person stricken by grief, 
trapped in the maze of pain and uncertainty. She took a step closer. "Can I talk 
to you?"
205 
"Yes." Katy motioned to the chairs where she and Dr. Deming had sat a few 
minutes ago. When they were seated, facing each other, Katy saw an abyss of fear 
in the woman's eyes. Dayne had mentioned that Randi didn't care much for 
Christianity or faith or God for that matter. One of his goals during the 
filming had been to change her mind.
Katy's heart went out to the popular actress. The tragedy was all but impossible 
with faith. How must it feel without it? "You've been in to see Dayne?"
Randi folded her hands and stared at them for a moment. When she lifted her 
head, her chin trembled. "You have to understand something." Her expression 
tightened, and she allowed a few gut-wrenching sobs. "I couldn't bear to come 
before this. I kept waiting to hear it on the news: `Dayne Matthews makes 
complete recovery.- She steadied herself. "See . . . Dayne was my rock for the 
few months before his. . before this."
Dayne was Randi's rock? Jealousy tried to take over, but Katy resisted it. Dayne 
hid nothing from her. Katy knew Randi's marriage was in trouble and that she 
sought Dayne often for advice. The fact that he also spent his days on screen 
pretending to be in love with the woman rankled Katy, but she let the feeling 
pass. "I'm sorry."
"I know. You've lost so much more than I have. I keep thinking how selfish I am, 
missing his friendship and stumbling around in the dark without him. But never 
once . . never one time coming here to tell you how sorry I am for you."
The hopelessness in Randi's voice was terrifying, and it gave Katy a chilling 
glimpse of life without salvation. No matter how dim, she must never let the 
fire of hope inside her die. Never. She put her hand on Randi's shoulder and 
begged God for the right words. "Have you prayed for him?" She was no longer 
intimidated by the woman. Never mind that Randi was known throughout the world. 
Here she was just one more lost soul, a
206 
person deeply in need of the lifeline only Jesus Christ could offer.
"I saw the Bible on the chair." Randi sniffed twice. "Is it yours?"
Katy brought her hand back to her lap and nodded. "I read it to him. The doctors 
think maybe he can hear us."
"Great." She let loose a single sob. "Then he would've heard me crying."
She wasn't sure if Randi wanted to talk about the Bible, but it didn't matter. 
Dayne would've wanted her to pray. "If he heard you cry, then he'll be feeling 
sad. But maybe now you and I can go back in there and pray for him."
"Pray for him?" A frown creased her otherwise-smooth forehead. "How can you, 
Katy? After all this time?" She leaned back in her seat, defeated. "Dayne read 
his Bible every night; I'm sure you know that. He prayed for me and the cast and 
you." She jerked her thumb toward the hallway. "Jesus was the guy's best friend, 
and look where it got him." She narrowed her eyes. "What proof do you have that 
God isn't just a nice fairy tale?"
Her words hit Katy slowly. Understanding dawned in her heart, and she looked 
deep into Randi's eyes. No matter what the accident had taken from Katy, from 
Dayne, it hadn't taken her faith. She felt God giving her strength, felt the 
answer coming to her crystal clear. "He's alive, isn't he? He kept his leg." 
Passion filled her tone. "The Lord's been here with Dayne, with me, every day 
since the accident. More than that, if God calls Dayne home, he'll go straight 
to heaven. Forever." A smile lifted the corners of her lips. "What more could he 
want?"
Randi studied Katy as if she were an otherworldly creature. "You're serious, 
aren't you?"
"I am." She stood and reached for Randi's hand. "Come on. Let's go back and ask 
God for a miracle. You could do that, couldn't you?"
Randi looked like she wanted to shake her head, run back
207 
down the hall to the elevator, and never venture to the hospital again. But 
gradually the doubt in her eyes lifted, and her eyes had the guileless look of a 
trusting child. "That's what Dayne would want, isn't it?"
"It is."
Then, without further conversation or analysis, they walked to Dayne's room. 
Katy explained that Randi didn't need to speak; she could agree in her heart 
with everything Katy was saying and that would be the same thing. Then for the 
next several minutes they did just that, asking God-once more-for a miracle this 
very day.
When they finished, the fear in Randi's face was gone. "I think-" she looked at 
Dayne, and her eyes welled with tears- "when he wakes up, I'm going to ask him 
about the Bible." She tried to laugh, but it came out like a cry. She leaned 
over him and kissed the top of his head. Then she turned to Katy. "I might as 
well see what the fuss is all about."
Again Katy kept her jealousy at bay. "I think Dayne would like that."
Randi thanked Katy and was halfway to the door when she stopped and turned. "I 
almost forgot." She pulled a stack of magazines from her oversize bag. "These 
came out today. You might not want to see them-" she frowned-"but I thought you 
should."
Katy's heart fell. More tabloid news. She took the stack. "Thanks." She gave the 
actress a sad smile. "I guess you know all about this stuff."
"It doesn't make it any easier." She looked at Dayne once more. "He's the real 
deal." Her eyes found Katy's again. "You're very lucky, Katy Hart." Guilt 
flashed in her expression. "The truth is, I would've stolen him from you in a 
minute, but he wouldn't bite. Not at all. All he's ever been to me is a friend. 
He only has eyes for you." A sad smile played on her lips. "But I guess you 
already know that."
208 
There it was. The admission that Randi did indeed have fed ings for Katy's 
fiance. But something else. The proof that Dayn( had never shown any interest. 
Katy wanted to be mad, but sh( couldn't. Randi Wells was only being honest, 
letting Katy kno that she had nothing to worry about.
Katy closed the distance between them and took Randi hands. "I do know. But 
thanks for saying it." She hoped her sin cerity shone through her eyes. "And 
maybe someday after Daync wakes up, you and I can be friends too."
"Yes." Randi squeezed her fingers, then moved toward the door. "I'd like that."
When she was gone, Katy had the sudden certainty that one day not too far off 
Randi would give her life to Christ, and she would most definitely become a 
friend. Maybe even a close friend. But before she could carry the possibility 
too far, she remembered the magazines. She couldn't read them here.
But maybe there was a place she could go. . . .
She found her purse and the envelope tucked inside, the one Dayne's agent had 
given her. It held the keys to Dayne's Malibu house. "Use it," the man had told 
her. "Dayne's plants might need a little water, and you . . . well, the water 
might be good for you too."
The possibility had hung in her heart since then, but she didn't want a parade 
of paparazzi following her. She looked at her watch. It was only two in the 
afternoon. The paparazzi were used to her schedule by now. She stayed at Dayne's 
side until ten or eleven every night.
The idea began to feel like it might work. She called for the car and asked for 
a pickup on Wilshire Boulevard-not in front of the hospital like usual. She told 
Dayne good-bye and promised to be back later that evening. Then she hurried down 
the elevator and out a lesser-known back door. She peered one way and then the 
other, but she could see none of the familiar cars. From there she walked to 
Wilshire and met her ride.
209 
An hour later every one of Dayne's dying plants had been watered, and Katy 
slipped out onto the sand with a blanket and the magazines. The beach behind the 
string of multimillion
-
dollar homes was nearly empty, the way it often was in the fall months. She 
walked a little ways, spread out the blanket, and sat down.
Only then did she look at the covers of the magazines. At first they looked like 
last week's. "Dayne Matthews Still in a Coma." But beneath that was a headline 
that made her heart sink. "Dayne's Biological Brother Lashes Out." Katy stared 
at the words, trying to comprehend the ramifications. The Baxters had been 
found, for sure. But what was this about Luke?
She couldn't turn the pages fast enough. When she reached the spread on Dayne, 
there was a large photo of a very angry Luke Baxter. Beneath it the caption read 
"Luke Baxter wants nothing to do with his famous brother." Making up the rest of 
the layout were photos of each of the Baxters, complete with their names and a 
few sentences about them. Only Luke's had a brief story beneath his.
Katy's mouth hung open. Dear God. . no. She found the beginning of the story on 
Luke and began to read.
Celebrity Life has learned the identity of Dayne Matthews' biological family. 
Dr. John Baxter and his wife, Elizabeth, who died two years ago, had theirfirst 
child-Dayne-before they were married and gave him up for adoption. They went on 
to have five more children-Brooke, Karl, Ashley, Erin, and Luke. Most of the 
family lives in Bloomington, Indiana, and is known throughout the community for 
their strong Christian beliefs.
210 
Katy struggled to catch her breath. She could only imagil the details that 
filled the page. She read on.
At least one of the Baxters isn't excited about his famous sibling. This week 
Luke Baxter, a legal assistant in New York City, told a reporter for Celebrity 
Life that "Dayne Matthews is not my brother. Blood does not make him a Baxter." 
In addition, Luke Baxter threatened legal action if his or his family's privacy 
was breached in any way.
No, Luke. Katy groaned. Why would you say that? She lookcil out at the ocean. 
Dayne would be devastated when he woke and had the chance to see the quote. All 
those years of ignoring his desire to seek out the Baxters, to approach them, 
and no' this?
She held the magazine up and read the few lines beneath the other photos.
Brooke was born after Dayne. She and her husband are doctors. Three years ago 
their youngest child was involved in a near drowning, and Brooke's husband was 
addicted to painkillers.
Anger surged through Katy. An injured child was something private, not a detail 
to toss around in a gossip magazine. How could they print that? She moved on.
Karl is married to a former NFL star. It is her second marriage. Her first 
husband was violently murdered by a stalker.
211 
Katy closed her eyes. She wanted to throw the magazines into the water and never 
look at them again. The Baxters were private people. This information should 
never have been made public. But that wouldn't change the facts, and it wouldn't 
stop millions of people from reading this same information. She found her place.
Ashley is an artist who was the single mother of one boy until she married a 
Bloomington firefighter. She is healthy after an AIDS scare two years ago.
Nausea welled up inside Katy. Ashley . . . lin so soriy. This was exactly what 
Dayne had feared. And now it had happened in the worst possible way. About Erin, 
the magazine only said:
Erin is married and living in Texas with her husband and four daughters.
Katy threw the magazine onto the blanket. No dirty facts on Erin, but the press 
would keep looking. The story was too sensational to resist. She stood and 
walked toward the water, the wet sand slipping between her toes. She kept 
walking through the foamy surf and in farther until the water was knee-deep. She 
wanted to shout at God. Where are You, Lord? Can't You see me? She tilted her 
face to the sky. Can't You hear? Everything's getting worse, and I can barely 
remember how to breathe. Father, I'm desperate for Your help. Please. . . are 
You even listening at all?
She looked to the horizon, as far as she could see, but before she could utter 
another prayer, her cell phone on the blanket came to life. She was using the 
song "I Still Believe" by Jeremy Camp for her ringtone. By the time she ran 
through the water and up the sand, the song was at the part that talks about 
feeling God's grace fall like rain.
212 
Please, God. . . let it be good news. . . .
She flipped open her phone. "Hello?"
"Katy Hart?" The voice sounded familiar.
"Yes?" She bent over her knees and exhaled so she'd have room in her anxious 
lungs for the slightest bit of air. "This is Katy."
"This is Dr. Deming. We need you back at the hospital right away.
Katy dropped to her knees, but even in that instant she refused to believe that 
the news could be bad. Hope roared to a mighty flame. "Is he . . . ?"
"He's moving, Katy." She could almost see the doctor smile. "He's coming out of 
the coma. I must warn you though; a full recovery is still a long shot. But 
we'll do everything possible to make it happen."
"Dear God, thank You." She uttered the words loud enough for the doctor to hear. 
"I'll be right there."
Katy grabbed her things, ran up the stairs to Dayne's house, and rushed out to 
the waiting car.
All the way back to the medical center she felt as if she were floating, soaring 
even. God had heard her! She whispered a constant string of thanks to Him, her 
Lord and Savior. She'd asked for a miracle tonight, and God in all His merciful 
power had delivered. Dayne was waking up!
If that wasn't proof that God was more than a fairy tale, nothing was.
213 
DAYNE COULDN -r see clear of the darkness, but something strange was happening. 
One small pinpoint at a time, light was streaming through. Light and something 
else. A voice that he would've known anywhere-the only voice that mattered.
The voice of Katy Hart.
"Dayne, can you hear me? I'm waiting for you, right here beside you." She 
sounded distant, as if she were talking underwater.
Yes, I can hear you! With every bit of his strength Dayne tried to speak, and 
then he tried to shout, but his mouth wouldn't work so his words had no way out. 
Another tiny spot of light burst through the darkness.
Where was he? And why was the darkness so thick? It hung like the densest fog, 
filling the air around him, consuming even his senses. Was he dreaming? Had 
someone drugged him? He was in Bloomington, wasn't he? Celebratirig the Fourth 
of July and admiring the ring on Katy's hand.
So why couldn't he wake up?
Katy. . . I can hear you! Why can't I talk?
214 
"There's no question he's coming out of the coma." This time the muffled voice 
belonged to another woman, someone unfamiliar.
But who was coming out of a coma? Not him. He wasn't hurt or sick; he'd done 
nothing that would cause him to be in a coma.
"When, Doctor? When will we know more?" Katy was still there beside him; he 
could sense her. Whom was she talking to? Whom did they know who was in a coma, 
and why was he in such a deep, dark sleep?
Maybe if he thought a little harder, forced himself to think about the past, he 
could wake himself up. He went back in time-way back. He had made a lot of 
mistakes-his confusion over Kabbalah, his relationship with Kelly Parker. The 
baby she aborted, the child Dayne would never know. Thinking of the baby made 
him sad. Beyond sad. He felt like weeping over the loss, but almost as quickly 
he had a certainty that the child was a boy and he was in heaven-safe in God's 
nursery. The knowing was so strong that Dayne was immediately overwhelmed with 
relief. His baby boy was safe.
More pinpoints of light pierced the thick black fog. The first time he saw Katy 
at the Bloomington Community Theater and again that first day in Los Angeles at 
the audition. The crazy woman on the beach, his trek back to Indiana, and all 
the ups and downs ever since.
"Dayne, can you hear me? Please open your eyes." Katy sounded a little clearer 
than before.
I'm here, Katy. Wake me up; shake me. I want to see you! He felt closer to the 
light, but still his words wouldn't come. If remembering was helping, then maybe 
he needed to remember recent things. He was at the Fourth of July party and then 
. . .
Fragments of memories flashed in his mind-Dayne and an actress working on a 
hillside somewhere. He concentrated. The actress was. . Randi Wells. The 
flashbacks stopped there. Frus
215 
tration hit hard and he tried again. God, please . . . why can't I remember?
"Dayne, I'm here." This time Katy sounded clearer still.
But there was no use answering her. Not until he could open his eyes. If only he 
could get a clear picture of what had happened. There was Randi Wells. Only they 
weren't filming a movie; they were at a restaurant. And there were paparazzi 
everywhere.
A stream of light joined the tiny dots. He could feel his eyelids moving, but he 
couldn't see more than shadows. Moving shadows close beside him. He tried to 
reach out and see if the closest shadow belonged to Katy, but he couldn't lift 
his hand. Katy, I'm here. . . Again no words came.
He thought back once more. The memory was coming into focus slowly, like looking 
through the lens of a cheap video camera. He and Randi having lunch . . . no, 
not lunch. They were having breakfast and a dozen photographers were capturing 
every move, every bite. Then they were finished and getting into their separate 
cars and heading down Pacific Coast Highway. The pictures were slow and hazy, 
but they were no longer broken into short bursts.
They were driving and he was following her. The paparazzi cars darted around 
Dayne to either side of Randi; then one of them lost control. He could feel 
himself moving, turning from side to side. The paparazzi car pulled back into 
his lane, but at the same instant a truck was headed right for. . .
His eyes flew open, but the truck was nowhere in sight. Instead there in front 
of him in lines that weren't quite clear was the only sight he wanted to see, 
the one who had pulled him from the darkest night.
He didn't blink, didn't dare. He couldn't risk losing her again, falling into 
the darkness once more and maybe never finding his way out. Had he been hit by a 
truck? Was that what happened ? He felt sick at the thought. He could've died, 
but he was alive.
216 Katy's heart pounded out a strange rhythm against the wall of her chest. 
Dayne talked! He said her name! His voice was scratchy and weak, but it didn't 
rnatter. Her name was the first thing he'd
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
was half laugh, half cry. " can't believe you're awake." She low- ered the bed 
rail and leaned over him, careful not to put pressure on his chest. Then she did 
what she'd wanted to do since she first saw him here. She eased her hands 
beneath him and held him. He smelled like stale antiseptic, disinfectant, and 
something medicinal. But he was warm and alive and moving-even ever so
When she had first arrived back at the hospital and raced to his room, she could 
barely see what Dr. Deming was talking about. But after a minute or so she saw 
Dayne's fingers twitch, then his toes. With every half hour that passed, his 
movements had come more often, been more pronounced. In the past hour he'd 
started to move his lips and turn his head an inch in either
Dr. Deming checked in often, amazed. "He's coming out very quickly." She would 
grin and make a notation on Dayne's file. "When victims come out quickly, it can 
be a good sign. The more severely brain-injured victims are very slow to wake 
up." And now. . now Dayne had opened his eyes, and he'd seen her. Katy had spent 
enough time talking to Dr. Deming to know
FOREVER
t a strange
hyth
said her name! natter. Her nam( love you."
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or so she saw y half hour that een more
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,ut quickly, it i tired victims are tyne had opened ugh time talking
God had helped him find his way to daylight, because she was here and he was 
here. Together. And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like ages, 
he found the strength to say the only word that mattered.
"Katy. ."
id his way to
da
Together. And
c ages, he founc
1.
said. "I'm here, Dayne. I love you."
"It's okay." Her eyes stung, and the so
Iund that came from her
slightly.
direction.
217 
that blindness was a possibility. But he wasn't blind! And he was well enough to 
know her name, which meant two wonderful things.
First, he remembered her! All this time, every minute of every day for the past 
month, she'd lived with the fear that he might come out of the coma only to have 
lost his memory. Now that wasn't a concern. And second, he could speak clearly. 
He was groggy, but when he said her name, even through his slurred speech, she 
had no doubt what he was saying.
She pressed her face against his and whispered, "Everything's going to be okay, 
Dayne. You're back now. God gave you back to me."
"Who . . ." The sound was thick, and it seemed to take all his effort.
"Shhh." She straightened and sat on the edge of his bed. "Don't make yourself 
tired. The words will come eventually."
He relaxed, and for the next three hours he made only an occasional attempt at 
talking. But the entire time he didn't take his eyes off Katy. He refused to 
sleep, as if by closing his eyes he might fall back into the coma. During that 
time she told him nothing about the accident, only that she loved him, she was 
praying for him, and he was going to be okay. For a while she read the Bible to 
him. More from Hebrews and part of James.
Later Dr. Deming came in to check on him.
Like the breaking of a dam, Dayne's ability to talk returned. "Tell me . . . 
what happened." His words were painfully slow. But there was nothing slow about 
his thinking.
Dr. Deming leaned over him. "You were in a car accident. You've been in a coma 
for thirty days." The doctor smiled at Katy. Only the two of them knew the 
significance of Dayne's coming out of the coma the evening of his thirtieth day. 
The day before he would've been considered a long-term case.
Dayne struggled to swallow. His eyes expressed his disbelief at the news. "A . . 
. month?"
218 
"Yes."
"A . . . truck hit me."
"That's right." Dr. Deming shot a beaming look at Katy.
Katy understood, and silently she celebrated the unbelievable victory. If he 
could remember that detail, then his damage might be only minimal. He could 
still have motor-skills issues, but at least his brain was working. And that 
meant she had Dayne back, the Dayne she loved more than life.
Dayne looked at her. "I love you." His gaze shifted to the doc- tor. "I want to 
go home."
Concern flashed on Dr. Deming's face. "You've been asleep for a very long time, 
Dayne." She pressed her lips together. "I want to be honest. You'll need at 
least three months' rehabilita- tion before you'll be in any shape to go home. 
And that would be a best-case scenario."
Dayne narrowed his eyes and looked at the doctor for a long while. Then for the 
first time since he'd been awake, he lifted his hand. Not the sort of slight 
movements he'd been making before. This time he trembled as he lifted it all the 
way up, so his fore- arm was completely vertical. He turned his attention to 
her. "Katy . ."
She took his hand. Gradually at first, then with an increasing
A
nsity, he squeezed. "I'm here, Dayne. What do you need?" fine layer of sweat 
broke out on his forehead. Clearly he was working as hard as he'd ever worked 
before. She could almost feel Dr. Deming about to warn her not to push him. But 
the doe- tor stayed quiet. She probably felt the same way Katy did. After a 
month in a coma, if Dayne wanted to talk, no one should stop
ie looked more alert than even five minutes earlier. But he
F
tiring out. "What day . . . is it?"
"October 2." She searched his face.
le looked like he was calculating, though that seemed im- possible for someone 
who had been in a coma. "Three months
inte
him F was
4C
vict be eas ac
tor.
for war tior
a E
hi an Thi arm "Ka
c inte
woi feel tor mo] hirr
was
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219 
. . I can't go home . . ." He rested for a few seconds. His words were coming 
slower than before, but his thinking still seemed sharp. He found the doctor 
again and picked up where he left off. ". . . until January?"
"That would be the soonest." Dr. Derning gave Dayne an understanding smile. 
"Your progress at this point is beyond my explanation. But rehabilitation 
follows a predictable path. Three months, Dayne. It'll go quickly."
He shook his head. "We bought a house. I'm going home for . . . Thanksgiving."
A rush of emotion came over Katy. She replayed his words in her mind. If he 
wanted to go home for Thanksgiving, then home wasn't here in California. It was 
with her, in Bloomington. Her heart soared. God . . . can this night get any 
better? This must be how Peter felt when he watched You walk across the waves.
"Thanksgiving is in seven weeks. From a medical standpoint, it would be 
impossible to leave a rehabilitative setting by then."
Dayne looked like he might cry. For a minute he only worked his mouth, but no 
words came. He squeezed Katy's hand again. "Help me . . . please, Katy. Seven 
weeks. Help inc get home for Thanksgiving."
She couldn't see for the tears in her eyes. "Yes, Dayne." She kissed his 
fingers. "I'll help you."
Dr. Deming appeared to want to say something to discourage Dayne from such 
unrealistic dreams, but she took a step back instead. "I'll leave you two alone. 
I need to schedule some morning tests for Dayne." She glanced at the file in her 
hands. -We'll wait until tomorrow afternoon to tell the press. That way you 
won't have to deal with a bunch of phone calls between now and then."
Katy thanked her. When she was gone, Katy brought her lace close to Dayne's. 
"You're really back."
"Thank you." His strength was almost entirely gone. But he brushed his cheek 
against hers. "For helping me."
I 9 
220 1
FOREVER
Katy could hardly believe they were having this conversation, that he was really 
alive and awake and talking to her. She looked to the deepest part of him, and 
when she spoke her voice rang with conviction. "God gave us a miracle tonight." 
She massaged her throat, loosening the emotion that was stuck there. "If we work 
together, maybe He'll give us another one."
He started to say something, but his eyes closed and after a minute his 
breathing changed. It was scary, watching him sleep. Maybe it always would be. 
But she only had to tell herself the truth. He wasn't in a coma any longer. He 
was resting. So that come tomorrow he could talk better and move better and 
start the long journey back to health.
She picked up the phone near Dayne's bed. Ever since she heard the news that he 
was coming out of the coma she'd wanted to call Ashley. But she wanted to make 
sure she had as much information as possible. And once Dayne was awake and 
talking, she couldn't tear herself away. Now she couldn't do anything until the 
Baxters heard the news.
Dayne had long-distance privileges from his room phone. That way she'd been able 
to keep in contact with Jenny Flanigan and Ashley and John without having to 
leave the hospital and use her cell phone. She started to dial Ashley's number, 
but then she stopped. Dayne was John's son. He deserved to know first. She 
pulled out the notepad from the top drawer in the nightstand and found his 
number.
He answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"John, it's Katy." Her voice cracked. "I have . . . good news." "Thank God." 
There was relief in his voice. "What's going on?"
She pressed her fingers to her lips and steadied herself. "He's awake, John. He 
came out of the coma and he talked to me, talked to the doctor too. He. . . he 
still wants to come home lot Thanksgiving."
The other end of the phone was silent.
221 
Katy could only imagine what he was thinking. John more than any of them knew 
how dire Dayne's condition had been. And now more than anyone he was probably 
stunned by the news. He had found his son only to come far too close to losing 
him. But Dayne was whole and alive and awake, which made them witnesses to a 
miracle. The sum of it must've been more than Dayne's father could take. Katy 
knew this not because of what he said, since he hadn't spoken a word yet, but by 
the muffled sound she heard coming through the phone line.
John Baxter was crying.
222 
223 
ASHLEY STARED at the magazines on her kitchen table with no idea what to do 
next. She'd read everything-every cover page, every index, and every splashy 
spread at the center of each tabloid.
Twice.
And still she was baffled. She understood how someone would've figured out that 
the Baxters were Dayne's biological family, and she'd expected something this 
week-since every one of them had been photographed in the past ten days. With 
enough money and motivation, it was not a shock that the paparazzi would find 
the juiciest details to smear beneath each of their pictures or that they would 
contrast that with the fact that the Baxters were-as one magazine put 
it-"supposedly Christians."
What shocked her was Luke.
The anger and hurt she felt toward him were so mixed she couldn't tell one from 
the other. How could he say that about Dayne? "Blood doesn't make him a Baxter"? 
Was that all he'd picked up along the journey of living with their mother and
224 
father, of seeing the way they always made family a priority \ (1 everything 
else?
It was long since dark, and Cole and Devin were asleep Landon was working a 
swing shift, and he'd be home soon. SI1( stood and paced across the kitchen to 
the telephone on thi counter. When she'd first seen the story, first read the 
quot from Luke, she'd picked up the phone and started to dial befol she stopped 
herself. Whatever was causing Luke to act and feel this way couldn't be dealt 
with in a barrage of furious words.
Instead she'd returned to the table, where she'd spent the last hour reading and 
praying and trying to make sense of the situa tion. She stared at the phone. She 
hadn't talked to any of the oth ers yet. No doubt they were sorting through the 
stories, taking stock of how the notoriety would affect each of them.
Ashley had played out the story for each of her family members. Brooke and Peter 
would be fine. They were private people, and very few patients would ever 
connect the dots between them and the magazine story. Erin would be fine, of 
course, and Kari too. Their friends and neighbors might mention the connection, 
and the visibility might hurt for a while. But they'd get over it,
would their families.
Ashley and her father had already made their decision before they chose to 
travel to LA after Dayne's accident. They would shout from the Hollywood Hills 
if they had to. Dayne was family, and family didn't shirk into the shadows just 
because a situation was difficult.
More than the embarrassment and hurt from what the tabloids had dug up was the 
inconvenience that would likely follow. People looking for a path to Dayne might 
try to find it through one of the Baxters. They would need to change their phone 
numbers to unlisted, and at family dinners and holidays they would have to be 
aware of paparazzi.
Yes, the hardship of being Dayne's biological family definitely had the 
potential to be more damaging than the dirt splattered
225 
over today's issues. Ashley was tired of looking at them. She collected them in 
a stack and put them on the seat of the chair beside her. Cole didn't need to 
see his mother's picture in a magazine. He was too young to understand any of 
it.
She crossed her arms and thought about Luke. How could he do it? He must've 
known the photographer would use every word he said. A thought hit her. What if 
he hadn't said it? He could've walked out the door and into the photographer's 
trap. The guy could've taken an angry picture of Luke and made the whole thing 
up. If so, right now Luke would be crushed by the stories in the tabloids.
Hurt took the upper hand over her anger, and she didn't want to wait until 
tomorrow. There was no better time to make the call.
She picked up the receiver and dialed his number. Please let it be a mistake. On 
the third ring, Reagan's mother answered. Ashley identified herself and 
apologized for calling so late.
"Not at all. We never have lights out before eleven." Reagan's mother sounded 
upbeat and friendly, the way Ashley remembered her from Luke and Reagan's 
wedding. But her tone sounded strange in light of today's news. She couldn't 
possibly have read the tabloids. Otherwise she never would've sounded so 
cheerful. In that case, maybe Luke hadn't seen the magazines either.
They spent a few minutes catching up; then Reagan's mom went to get Luke.
"Hello?" Luke sounded gruff, as if he'd been called away from something far more 
important than his sister.
"Hey." Ashley took the phone to the living room and curled up at the end of the 
sofa. Curb my anger, God. . . . Give me kind words. She stared across the room 
at a framed photograph of the Baxters-taken before any of them were married. "I 
figured you'd be expecting my call."
"I guess."
226 
Ashley made a face. "I'm talking about the tabloids. You' seen them, haven't 
you?"
"The women at the office brought in bunches of them." "Okay then." There was no 
easy way to broach the subject. Sli(
took a breath. "Those things they printed .. . did you say them?. "I don't need 
this." He muttered the words so low they wert
barely audible.
"So you did say them?"
"Yes, okay?" The gruff voice was one that didn't fit him, didni even sound like 
him. "I said it and I meant it."
"What?" She was on her feet. "Dayne's not your brother? k that really how you 
feel?"
"He's not. Not the way you and Brooke and Kari and Erin sec him." Luke let out a 
frustrated breath. "Mom and Dad gave him up, Ashley. He was raised in another 
family, so that makes him someone else's son."
"I see." Ashley felt her face getting hot. "So that's why the comment about 
'blood doesn't make him a Baxter'?"
"Yes." Luke sounded defensive. "I didn't know until it was too late that they'd 
plaster it across the magazine. Anyway, no one sees my point."
"No." She walked closer to the Baxter family picture and studied the image of 
Luke. What happened to you, little brother? How could you grow up a Baxter and 
miss the whole point of family? She forced herself to stay calm. "Your point 
doesn't matter. Neither does mine or our sisters'. What matters is that Mom 
loved Dayne. Dad loves him still. Think about it. If you and Reagan gave a child 
up for adoption before you had Tommy, you'd spend the rest of your days 
wondering about him, looking for him, hoping his life was everything you ever 
dreamed it would be."
Luke was silent.
"You could tell each other not to talk about him, but that wouldn't make him any 
less real." She heard a catch in her voice. "Any less your son."
227 
He remained quiet for a beat. Then he sighed. "I get that part." Por the first 
time in months, there was compassion in his voice. Compassion and pain. The real 
Luke, the one they all loved, was still there. Confused maybe, but deep inside 
he hadn't changed completely.
Ashley walked back to the kitchen. "Okay. If you get it, then why, Luke? . . . 
Why would you say that?"
"Because I liked the way our family was." The anger was back, though not as 
strong as before. "Back before 1 had to be chased down the street by a 
photographer shouting questions at me." He laughed, but there was no humor in 
it. "Back before 1 had to assure the women at the office that no, I couldn't get 
them a date with Dayne Matthews. Before I had to imagine every family gathering 
centered around a celebrity."
Luke's bitterness shocked Ashley. She leaned against the nearest wall. "That's 
how you see it? What happened to you, Luke? You and Reagan are in trouble, and 
now this? 1 mean, come on!" She didn't pause long enough for him to interrupt. 
"You spent a week with Dayne in LA, remember? And you told the rest of us Dayne 
was a nice guy, genuine." Ashley raked her fingers through her hair. Passion 
filled her tone. "You said he wasn't at all the way you'd picture a movie star. 
Remember that?"
"Look, what happens between Reagan and me is our business." His words were 
clipped. "I have to go. Malin's crying."
Ashley wondered. She strained to hear, but the line was quiet other than Luke. 
"Okay, but we have to talk this out." Her eyes caught another picture, a small 
framed snapshot of Dayne, Kari, Brooke, and her at the lake on the Fourth of 
July. "You can't change the facts. Dayne's our brother, and he'll be a part of 
our family whether you like it or not."
"Yeah." He sounded colder than before. "And maybe I won't be."
Luke said good-bye and hung up before Ashley could question
228 
him, before she could express her outrage at his attitude. How come everyone 
else in the family was okay with the curve they'd been thrown? All of them had 
reason to struggle with it, and at times all of them had. Mostly they'd 
struggled with their parents and how they could've kept such a colossal secret 
for so many, many years.
But how did any of them have a right to struggle with Dayne? None of this had 
been his fault. He had been adopted by missionaries and given a lonely childhood 
in an Indonesian boarding school, and before he graduated his parents had been 
killed in a small-plane crash. Yes, he'd gone on to take drama classes at UCLA 
and made a string of hit movies, but he had no control over what happened after 
that-being placed at the center of America's fascination with celebrities.
Ashley closed her eyes and turned her back on the small snapshot. She could 
understand Luke's having concerns about the change in their family if he hadn't 
met Dayne. But he'd spent a week with him. How could he lash out about having 
Dayne as a brother after knowing Dayne? She covered her face with her hands. 
God. . our lives are a ball of knots. I can't even begin to unravel it by 
myself.
She heard a key in the front door and the sound of footsteps. Ashley peered 
through her fingers. She could smell smoke long before her husband reached her.
"Rough night?" Landon had dark smudges on his face and his uniform. He grinned, 
but his eyes were warm with sympathy. "I'd kiss you, but then you'd smell like 
me."
"You fought a fire?" There was no reason to sound surprised. Her husband was a 
firefighter. Still, she always felt a ripple of alarm when she knew he'd been 
face-to-face with a wall of flames. Especially since he'd nearly lost his life 
in a burning building twice before.
"We put it out." He set his helmet on the counter, grabbed a glass, and filled 
it with water. "No victims, no injuries. Just a
229 
blazing warehouse." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "It got a 
little crazy. Nothing serious."
Ashley lowered her chin. "Landon . . . you're telling me the whole story, 
right?"
"Yes." He angled his head, the way Cole did when he laid on the charm. "It was 
perfectly safe."
She pictured him walking through a building full of flames and falling beams. 
"Never mind. You're home. Thank God."
He winked at her. "I have." He guzzled the glass of water in four swallows and 
filled it again. "Unless you were playing hide-and- seek, I'd say your night 
might've been a little rougher than mine."
She laughed out loud. She must've been a sight, standing in the kitchen with her 
hands over her face when he walked in. The laughter felt good, but it didn't 
last. Her smile faded. "It was pretty bad. I talked to Luke."
"About the tabloids?" Landon had been home when Ashley came back with the stack 
of magazines. He hadn't had time to read them, but he saw the pictures and he 
knew the news wasn't great.
"Yes." She motioned toward the tabloids on the kitchen chair. "He said Dayne 
wasn't his brother." For the first time since she'd opened the first magazine, 
her eyes grew damp. "But he is our brother. And now the whole thing could split 
our family down the middle." She moved closer and slid her arms around his 
jacket. "I don't care about the smoke. I need you."
Landon cradled her close and rubbed her back. "Honey, nothing could split your 
family. Not time or distance or even death." He kissed the top of her head. 
"Definitely not this."
The smell only reminded her how blessed she was. Landon had survived another 
fire, and God had brought him safely home. One more time. "Thanks." She snuggled 
against him.
"For what?"
"For always knowing what to say." She took a step back. "Go shower. I'll make 
you a sandwich."
230 
He reached for his helmet. "You know what I think?" "What?"
"I think you ought to take the afternoon tomorrow and paint.-
"Hmm." She smiled. Weeks had passed since she'd pulled out her brushes and sat 
in front of an easel and an empty canvas "Sounds wonderful." She wrinkled her 
nose. "But Kari and I arc taking the babies to the park midmorning, and then 
I've got a CKT meeting after lunch." She felt most tired about what came next. 
"Then there's Katy and Dayne's house." Her shoulders sagged. "I'm not sure I 
even know where to begin."
Landon's eyes shone with love and understanding and strength. "Start where we 
always start, Ash." He pointed up. Then he smiled and headed into the hall and 
up the stairs toward their room.
Ashley watched him leave, amazed at the way he loved her, the way he always 
loved her. He was her rock in times like this, and here was why. "Start where we 
always start, Ash. . . "
And, of course, that's exactly what she would do. It was what she had been 
doing. Only most of the time throughout the day praying hadn't felt like enough. 
But it was. It always would be. Peace stilled the rough waters in her soul, and 
she lifted her voice to God then and later with Landon after he showered and 
came back down.
They prayed that God would remove the bitterness and anger in Luke and replace 
it with compassion, and they prayed as they'd done each day that Dayne would 
wake up and that he'd have a full recovery. This time they prayed that Ashley 
wouldn't gain one brother only to lose another.
Three minutes after they finished praying, the phone rang. Landon jumped up and 
jogged to the kitchen. He answered it, and after a minute, he headed toward 
Ashley. He looked like he was trying to hide a smile. "It's for you. It's your 
dad."
"Thanks." Ashley stood and reached for the phone. Somehow everything would work 
out. God was always faithful, whether a
231 
person was in a season of blessing or a season of growing, whether in triumphs 
or trials. It was like her mother had always said: In the journey of life, it 
was a better ride if a person took the passenger seat and let God do the 
driving. Because along the way there were bound to be unexpected turns.
And some turns only God could maneuver.
She picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Ashley . . ." Her father sounded funny, like he'd been crying.
Ashley frowned. Why would he be upset? An idea hit her. This better not be about 
Elaine. Apparently her dad and his friend had gone through some kind of 
falling-out. She wondered once in a while if their trouble had anything to do 
with the way she had treated Elaine that night when Elaine was helping in the 
Baxter kitchen. The woman had no right to access their family. The trouble 
between her dad and Elaine was just as well. Her father had mentioned the other 
day that he hadn't talked to his friend in weeks. Ashley was glad. Her father 
needed time with his memories.
She pressed the phone to the side of her face. "Dad, is everything okay?" She 
glanced up. Landon was grinning bigger than at any time tonight.
"I . . . can't believe it." Her dad cleared his throat.
"What?" This wasn't about Elaine. It was something bigger. Much bigger.
It took a while for him to speak, but when he did the words came in a hurry. 
"It's Dayne. He's awake."
232 
233 
REAGAN SAT On the floor across from Tommy and Malin. They were building a tower 
with oversize plastic LEGO blocks, and it was all she could do to stay awake. 
But then, the exhaustion was becoming part of life.
"Tommy need a green one." Tommy was talking very well lately. With his light 
brown hair and big blue eyes, he looked more like Luke all the time.
Reagan reached across the carpet and found a green block. "Here you go."
Tommy concentrated on the masterpiece in front of him. He placed the block and 
clapped. "Big castle."
Neither of them spotted Malin until it was too late. She wasn't quite walking 
yet, but she could crawl faster than any baby Reagan had ever seen. She reached 
Tommy's building and tried to stand up against it. Reagan barely had time to 
catch her, but it was too late for the tower. It tumbled to the floor and broke 
in five sections.
Tommy screamed and then froze. He turned and shouted, "No, Mali, no! Bad!"
234 Malin didn't know what to make of her brother's anger, and combined with her 
near fall, her expression changed. She opened her mouth, and after a buildup 
that seemed to take a minute, she began to cry. The problem vas, when Malin 
cried it was more like a scream. A temper tantrum even.
"Tommy, please . . ." Reagan stood and lifted Malin onto her hip. Her daughter's 
screams were so loud that she doubted Tommy could even he her. "Your sister 
didn't mean to hurt your tower. Mommy can help you build it back." Tommy started 
crying too. Then he glared at Malin, pointed his finger at her, and made a 
firing sound. "Tommy shoot her!" "Wonderful," Reagan mumbled. She shifted Malin 
to her other hip and stooped down to Tommy's level. "We do not shoot
She left Tommy sobbing in the middle of a pile of LEGOs, his gun finger still 
cocked and ready to fire. She carried Malin to the kitchen. A pacifier would 
lighten the rnood, if only she could find it. Reagan looked beside the sink and 
between the canisters and in a basket near the fridge where she usually kept a 
spare.
The phone rang, and she answered it on the run. "Hello?" she
"Hi." It was Luke. He paused. "What's happening?"
"Just another-" she bounced Malin back onto her hip-
"Oh. Well . . ." His voice was too faint to hear above the noise. "What?" She 
moved a fruit bowl to the side. Where was the
"Never mind." He was shouting now "I'll see you tonight." "Fine." She hung up 
without saying good-bye.
Malin's crying rose a notch. She he out her hand for her pacifier. "Poppy ... 
poppy, Mama." Then she dropped her head back and shook her shoulders. The 
full-blown temper tantrum was right around the corner. Part of the reason was 
the pain in
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235 
her ears. Yesterday she'd been diagnosed with another ear infection. Her third 
in the past six weeks. The doctor was talking about surgery and putting tubes in 
her ears.
Reagan had her hands full between Mali's ears and Tommy's recent fascination 
with guns. Yesterday Tommy had gotten a checkup at the same time. When the nurse 
was taking his blood pressure, he slowly looked up at her and scowled. In the 
corner bouncing a moaning Malin, Reagan knew what was about to happen. She could 
only hope she was wrong.
As the cuff tightened on Tommy's little arm, his scowl got deeper. He made a gun 
with his finger, aimed it at the nurse, and uttered a firing noise. Immediately 
the doctor-a guy-burst out laughing.
But the nurse made a face and sent Reagan a disapproving look. "That's not 
funny."
At least he hadn't finished off the job with the announcement he'd been making 
more often lately: "Tommy shoot her." Luke thought the whole thing was funny. In 
fact, Tommy was the only one who could make him laugh these days.
Reagan tried her best to convince their son that he should shoot only the errant 
dinosaur or tiger that had managed to get into the house, and once in a while 
she succeeded. Earlier that week he'd come running out of his room, carefully 
aimed his finger at nothing, and fired loudly. He proceeded to clear the 
apartment of approximately seventeen dinosaurs, six snakes, four bears, two 
tigers, and a swarm of bees.
But an hour later Tommy ran from her, and before she could catch him, he turned 
around and fired straight at her. Reagan's mother had warned her that the 
terrible twos didn't necessarily stop at two. Indeed.
Reagan glanced in the other room. Tommy had moved to the couch. He was lying on 
his stomach crying into a pillow. I'm a terrible mother, she thought. I can't 
even get through a normal hour with these two.
236 
Malin lifted her head,held out her hand again, and let out .t long wail. 
"Poppy!" She held out the middle of the word at .1
"I know, sweetie." Reagan picked up her pace, frantical I\ searching the 
kitchen. The pacifier had to be here. Every time anyone in the family saw it on 
the floor it was washed and sel aside right here so they could find it in a 
moment like this. She blew at her bangs and kept looking. The silverware drawer, 
the
The problem was, sometimes Tommy found it on the countel where it was supposed 
to be or in the basket, and he'd hide it "Tommy hide Mali's poppy!" he would 
exclaim joyfully.
The Tupperware cupboard, the plastic-wrap drawer, the space where her mother 
kept the pot holders. Still nothing Please, God . . . help me. Reagan bounced 
Malin as she moved "It's okay, honey. Shhh. Mommy's looking for the poppy." She 
moved down the counter a ways and opened the place- mat drawer and the utensil 
drawer. Finally, in the last possible place, she opened the junk drawer and ti 
it was. Hidden trea- sure. She grabbed the pacifier and placed it in Malin's 
mouth. Malin sucked on it as if her life depended on the action. Then she rested 
her head on Reagan's shoulder and made much qui-
Reagan braced herself against the counter with her free hand
the drawer. Rubber ban( s and receipts and batteries and a pair of broken 
sunglasses, but on the left side, right on top, was a pile of what looked like 
unopened mail. To hadn't announced that he was hiding mail in addition t(3 
Mali's pacifiers, but
With Malin settling down a little more and Tommy's cries reduced to a low moan 
in the next room, she picked up the stack and spread the envelopes on the 
counter. Sure enough, nothing had been opened. She sighed and sorted through it. 
A cell-phone
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Reagan was suddenly suspicious.
237 
bill, advertising for a credit card, their Visa bill, and. . . Reagan made a 
face. Strange. The last envelope was addressed by hand to Luke and her. She 
turned it over, and on the back flap was Luke's father's address. Once Malin was 
down, she'd read it.
John had called a few times since the night he'd caught her crying on the phone. 
At first Reagan expected the conversations with his father to make a change in 
Luke. But there had been none. Whatever was going on inside him, he wasn't 
giving her or anyone else a window.
Malin was asleep now. Reagan carried her to her crib and laid her down. She 
looked at her little girl for a moment longer. She was so precious when she was 
sleeping. The social worker who handled her adoption had told them the 
adjustment could take time. Reagan wasn't sure if the difficulties they were 
having with her were due to adjustment or ear infections or her own inability to 
handle two children. Either way she was grateful for what she hoped would be at 
least an hour of peace.
She shuffled back to the kitchen, weary and lonely and frustrated with Luke. He 
didn't understand what she went through every day. Yesterday Malin had fought 
against her noon dose of ear drops. Reagan had been late to work again, and her 
boss wrote her up. They paid her so little that she wasn't sure if it was worth 
being upset over.
When she reached the kitchen, she remembered the letter. A quick look at the 
living room told her that Tommy was okay. He'd rolled onto his side, his hair 
sticking out every which way. Both kids napping at the same time! She picked up 
the envelope, clicked a few buttons on the in-wall stereo, and waited until soft 
instrumental music filled the apartment. Then she moved to the recliner in the 
front sitting room and opened the envelope.
Inside were two pieces of paper. On the first was a handwritten letter from 
Luke's father dated more than a week ago. She gritted her teeth. They'd have to 
talk to Tommy about hiding the mail. She found the first line and began to read.
238 MP ALL
FOREVER
Dear Luke and Reagan,
I found one of your mother's old letters, and inside was something she'd written 
and copies for each of you kids. I wanted you to have it as soon as possible. 
Read this and ask God if there's anything either of you could do to come more in 
line with this sort of love.
Reagan's heart melted. He had sorted through Elizabeth's letters and found 
something that could help them survive? She touched her fingers to her lips. No 
one took time for this kind of thing anymore. She thought about Luke, probably 
at his desk, face downcast, less than enthusiastic about coming home to her and 
the kids. If only he were more like his father. She kept reading.
Anyway, Luke, I think your mother really has something here. The whole world 
would do well to read it. But I think it would make her smile just to know that 
in this tough time, God brought it to the surface for you. I wish she were here 
to send it to you. Let's talk soon.
I love you.
Dad
Again Reagan was touched. The man was so open, so involved in his kids' lives. 
Her mother was involved that same way. She gave advice like she'd done a few 
weeks ago-reminding Reagan to look for ways to encourage Luke. But she kept her 
distance much of the time, so Reagan had assumed, as Luke had, that she was 
disappointed in the time it was taking them to find their own place.
Most of the time the fact that Reagan's mom kept her distance was probably a 
good thing, especially since they all lived together. She and her mom were 
close, and her mother was always quick to help with the kids. If she gave advice 
only once in a while, then that was okay.
Reagan lowered the first page to her lap and opened the second. It was a copy of 
something Elizabeth had written. At the top it said Ten Secrets to a Happy 
Marriage-from Mom.
239 
Her eyes clouded with tears. Reading the words made her long for her father. 
Between her parents, he had been the more emotional one, the one she could go to 
when a boy broke her heart or when she had a misunderstanding with a friend. But 
he hadn't been a writer. He had left behind no priceless treasures like the one 
she was holding.
She read the list slowly.
1.God has you here to serve one another. Love acted out is serving.
2.Women need respect and nurturing. Love your wife so sh knows you'd lay your 
life down for her. Continue to date and admire her. Share a hobby-find something 
you can to have fun together.
3.Laugh often.
Reagan stopped there and wiped her eyes. If she was keeping score, Luke would be 
batting zero. He rarely helped with the kids, and they hadn't gone on a date 
since before he started studying for the bar. Months ago. There was nothing 
funny anymore, and the only thing they did together was make the bed each 
morning. If Elizabeth was right-and clearly she was-no wonder their marriage was 
in trouble.
She dabbed at her eyes again and kept reading.
1.Be patient. Love crumbles quickly under the weight of unmet expectations.
Reagan stared at the line. Conviction poked pins at her conscience. Okay, so 
maybe she had to take some of the responsibility.
1.Spend more time trying to fix yourself than your spouse
Keep short accounts. The Bible says, "Do not let the sun down while you are 
angry." Mahe it a habit to forgive.
her do
go
240 
7.Determine up front that divorce is not an option.
8.Learn about love languages. Not all people show love or receive it the same 
way. You want a back rub and your spouse wants a clean kitchen. The love 
languages are fairly simple: acts of service, time, physical touch, gifts, and 
words of affirmation. Learn them. Love is better received when it's in the 
language that person speaks.
9.Words of affirmation are a love language for all men.
10.Men are born to be leaders. He cannot lead unless she gives him the 
confidence to do so. If you love your husband, build him up. Confident men do 
not seek love outside the home.
Reagan reread the list. Tears streamed down her face as remorse settled like a 
heavy blanket around her. Those last two were the exact things her own mom had 
been telling her. But she'd ignored her advice completely. Now, though, Reagan 
was seeing the suggestions in a new light.
Sure, she'd been thinking herself a terrible wife. But not really, not in the 
way of changing. More because it made her a victim, a martyr.
No matter how hard her mother had tried to convince her of the same thing, not 
until she read Elizabeth's words did she realize all the ways she truly had let 
Luke down. In her mind, she didn't need fixing. Luke had the bad attitude. Luke 
was the one who had changed.
She moved the paper back toward her knees so her tears wouldn't get it wet. 
She'd kept long accounts, if she was honest with herself, and when they talked 
about a separation, she could almost see herself divorced and moving on to 
someone better, someone kinder with a gentler attitude. And love languages? 
Reagan had never even considered such a thing.
The tears slowed, and she dried her cheeks. What was her love language? Not 
gifts. She didn't care about material things.
241 
Sentimental things, yes. But not enough to consider that her way of loving. She 
read through the list again. If she had to pick one, it would be physical touch. 
She loved holding hands with Luke and cuddling with him, feeling close to him. 
It was what had led to their rocky beginning in the first place. And next would 
be time-having Luke beside her when it came to working with the kids or taking a 
walk and having him listen to her. Knowing he was there for her.
But according to Elizabeth, it was more important to know Luke's love language. 
If his mother was right, then Reagan had never made a conscious effort to love 
Luke the way he was made to be loved. Words of affirmation? The exact thing her 
mother had told her weeks ago. She handled things the opposite way, asking 
questions much of the time. She could hear herself. "Why are you late? When are 
they going to give you a raise? Why can't you help more?"
Another layer of tears covered her eyes. Statements like that would only serve 
to bring a guy down. But why hadn't she listened to her mother? Why had it taken 
until now to click in her heart?
Reagan blinked, clearing her eyes so she could see through her tears. What else 
for Luke? The answer came to her almost immediately. Acts of service, of course. 
Luke loved it when she ironed his shirts or typed a brief for him when he had to 
bring his work home.
Something else came to mind. Just last week Reagan had snapped at him for being 
distant and insensitive. Her mother was out, and Reagan's day had been rougher 
than usual. There was no dinner ready when he came home. He didn't get mad, but 
after he changed clothes he spent the next hour making chicken and rice and then 
cleaning it up. He went so far as to take apart the stove-top burners and wash 
each individual part.
By then she had the kids in bed. She found him in the kitchen and stared at him. 
"Thanks a lot."
242 
Luke turned, his expression baffled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She scowled at him. "It means I've spent the whole night with the kids, same as 
I spent most of the day with them. And where are you?" She motioned to the 
kitchen. "In here by yourself."
Her heart sank at the memory. If Luke enjoyed being served, then cleaning the 
kitchen might've been his way of loving her. Maybe they were falling apart 
because they were speaking to each other in foreign languages.
But it was the last one on Elizabeth's list that made her throat thick with 
sorrow. Luke had been scrambling toward solid footing since they got back 
together. He was the guy who had gotten her pregnant, the one who had bolted 
into the arms of another woman after her greatest loss. Much of that had been 
her fault, of course. He'd tried to call, but she wouldn't answer, too panicked 
over the loss of her father and the realization that she was pregnant.
Still, she had found no reason to compliment him back then. Rather she'd been 
more reluctant. Sure, okay . . . we can give it a try. That sort of thing. And 
after they were married, he was automatically behind a lap in the race of life. 
A full-time student, married with a baby, and living with his wife's mother. How 
often had she asked him when he would graduate or how long before he could take 
the bar or when he'd become a full-fledged attorney? He kept running and trying, 
but he couldn't catch up to save his life. Not by her standards. That was 
something else. She let Luke blame her mother for thinking he wasn't living up 
to their expectations. But really they'd been Reagan's expectations all along. 
What had her expectations and criticisms done to Luke?
She placed the pages one on top of the other, the way they'd been in the 
envelope. Then she set them down on the table beside her and drew her knees 
close to her chest. Marriage was so hard, so much work. Lately she didn't even 
like Luke. So putting Elizabeth's secrets into practice would be tougher than if 
she'd known about them from the beginning.
243 
But she loved Luke, and she believed that God had a plan for them, plans for a 
beautiful marriage and a wonderful life in which every day was better than the 
last. Change could come only if she acted out of love for Christ, believing that 
in the process He would give her the marriage she dreamed about.
She took a mental inventory of the life they'd been living and the pressures 
Luke had been under. All without any real encouragement from her. No wonder he 
was frustrated about the discovery that Dayne was his brother. He had worked 
hard for the past few years with only a rare bit of approval from Reagan. And 
now here came news that his biological brother was a multimillionaire movie 
star.
A memory ran through her mind. She and Luke visiting her father at the top of 
the World Trade Center that long-ago day. Luke had been so sure they'd do 
everything right, so confident. He wanted to have an office just like her 
father's someday, he told her. Maybe right next door.
Oh, Luke. . . you had such high aspirations, such a positive outlook for the 
future. What happened to you?
And like that, the answer was clear. Sin happened to him. Not just to him but to 
both of them. They had gone against God's plan, and at least some of what they 
were dealing with was a result of their poor actions. That could be why she 
struggled with giving him praise. Secretly she might still be blaming him for 
derailing her plans-plans to finish college as an all-star athlete. Plans to 
date and travel and get married later when the timing was right.
Reagan sniffed and stood, carrying the letter back to the kitchen. They would 
live a lifetime with the consequences of their choices. But God had a better 
future for them than the one they were living. She surveyed the situation. It 
was three o'clock, and the kids were still sleeping. Luke wouldn't be home for 
two hours. That meant there was time to take action now. Today.
Before the weight of her unmet expectations caused love to crumble completely.
242 
243 
LUKE COULDN'T concentrate.
He was still getting flak from the guys in the office about his newfound fame. 
Admiring women from other floors of the office had heard that he was Dayne's 
brother, and two of them had sent interoffice mail his way asking if he was 
interested. Word got around, and the guys couldn't resist poking fun at him.
"Can I have your autograph, Dayne . . . er, I mean, Luke?" Then they'd burst 
into laughter as if the whole situation was beyond funny.
Luke's boss, Joe Morris, was the only one not laughing. The moment he saw the 
story, he called Luke into his office and smacked the magazine down on the desk 
between them. "What's this?"
Luke had to think quickly. He tried for a casual tone. "The guy chased me down." 
He leaned back and shrugged. "Blew the whole thing out of proportion."
"So what's it mean, your comment?" Joe wasn't angry, but he was on the verge. "I 
don't care if Dayne's your brother. He's one of this firm's top clients."
244 
245
LUKE COULDN'T concentrate.
He was still getting flak from the guys in the office about his newfound fame. 
Admiring women from other floors of the office had heard that he was Dayne's 
brother, and two of them had sent interoffice mail his way asking if he was 
interested. Word got around, and the guys couldn't resist poking fun at him.
"Can I have your autograph, Dayne . . . er, I mean, Luke?" Then they'd burst 
into laughter as if the whole situation was beyond funny.
Luke's boss, Joe Morris, was the only one not laughing. The moment he saw the 
story, he called Luke into his office and smacked the magazine down on the desk 
between them. "What's this?"
Luke had to think quickly. He tried for a casual tone. "The guy chased me down." 
He leaned back and shrugged. "Blew the whole thing out of proportion."
"So what's it mean, your comment?" Joe wasn't angry, but he was on the verge. "I 
don't care if Dayne's your brother. He's one of this firm's top clients."
246 "Obviously I realize amt." Luke tried a lighthearted laugh, 1)111 it fell 
flat. "What I meant was I can't give any information abott Dayne. He didn't grow 
up with the rest of us, you know?" The lines around Joe's eyes eased some. "That 
makes sense. I
"That part about being a Baxter-" he gestured toward the magazine-"only means 
that finding a brother this late in lite
That was four days ago. Things were fine with Joe, but the incident clearly 
wasn't going away and neither was the dilemma
In the past week Luke had seen the same photographer again, and this time he 
handled it better. If the guy wanted his picture, fine. He could take it. He 
would take it anyway. Luke put up nothing to block the way and didn't turn 
toward the sounds ol questions and a clicking lens. Instead he ignored the man 
and kept walking, staring straight ahead. The photographer wouldn't catch Luke 
Baxter making a fool of himself again; that much was
Luke studied the file on his desk. It was a corporate takeover case, and he was 
supposed to find a truckload of varying prece-
the client's corporate lawyer, but progress was tediously slow. His call to 
Reagan earlier hadn't lightened his mood any. Seemed like all the kids did 
lately was scream and cry. And Reagan wasn't much better. He pushed his chair 
back from his desk. Maybe if he got a coffee he'd have a better chance of 
getting through the afternoon. He was about to stand up when Joe
"Luke-" his boss was smiling-"we need to talk."
"All right." Luke sat back down an(1 gestured to the chair
FOREVER
hat." Luke tried
t was can't giv( ip with the rest ( s eyes eased son
a Baxter-" s that finding a e lot in common 'lly. Then he t just be a little m
Things wen ;oin away and
had seen the sa I it better. If the He would take ty and didn't tur g lens. 
Instead 1- aight ahead. The
a fool of hims,
on his desk. It IA se to find a tru( rho was a big I vyer, but rogre arlier 
hadn't 14 Is did lately wa. tter. He pushed ffee he'd have a He was about pp 
inside.
smiling-"we back down am
guess."
doesn't give you a whole lot in common."
Joe nodded thoughtfully. Then he t
jook the magazine and
shoved it in a file. "Let's ust be a little m
nore careful what we say
to the press from now o."
Luke faced with his family.
certain.
dent for the petitioner, who was a bigie
client. He was working with
opened his door and stepped inside.
247 
across from him. The man didn't look nearly so ominous when he was in a good 
mood.
Joe ignored the offer of a chair. He came closer and leaned his free hand on the 
desk. With the other, he held up an envelope. "You aren't going to believe 
this."
Luke blinked. He had absolutely no idea what Joe was talking about or what could 
make him look so pleased. He waited for him to continue.
"So I'm sitting in my office yesterday wondering how we can take on the ten 
clients knocking on the door without hiring another attorney, and I get a call." 
Joe chuckled. "Guess who it is?"
The question made him lower his brow. "No idea."
"Dayne Matthews' agent! The guy tells me I'll be getting an overnight package 
from him, so keep an eye out for it."
Luke had no idea how the story might involve him. He crossed his arms and tried 
to look appropriately interested.
"Anyway, it gets delivered to my office a few minutes ago, and I open it. 
Inside's this letter." He waved it at Luke. "It's a written request made by 
Dayne before his accident. You ready for this?"
"Uh, I think so." Luke gulped. Back then Dayne couldn't possibly have thought 
Luke felt any ill will toward him.
"Okay, listen." He searched Luke's face. "Once you pass the bar, he wants you to 
consider moving to our Indianapolis office and working exclusively on his 
contracts and holdings." He straightened and slapped the letter on Luke's desk. 
"It's all in here. He wants the firm backing you, but he wants exclusive access 
to your services." He chuckled again. "And get this. He wants your salary at 
about twice where we would've started you. He'll pay it." He let his arms hang 
at his sides in a way that said he was too shocked to say anything else.
Luke's world tilted hard and began spinning out of control. He must be 
daydreaming, right? The Friday afternoon doldrums had finally gotten to him. Joe 
Morris couldn't possibly have just
248 
said that. Luke squinted at his boss. "He wants me to think about transferring 
to Indiana?"
"Exactly. Isn't that what you've been saying for the last year? That you'd like 
to get back there?"
"Yes, I . ." Luke rubbed the back of his neck and tried to find a modicum of 
clarity. Dayne wanted to increase the rate he paid the firm so that Luke would 
net twice the standard starting salary? He searched Joe's eyes. "Are you 
serious?"
"Of course." Joe's laugh came easily. He took a step back and propped himself up 
against the wall. "We'll miss you around here, but it allows us to keep a top 
client happy and justify hiring two attorneys full-time to help with the 
workload around here." He tossed his hands in the air. "Everyone wins."
Joe picked up the letter. "I'll make a copy for your file. It's legal verbiage, 
something his agent drafted." He took a few steps back toward the door and 
paused. "Now that Dayne's out of the coma and making a recovery, I'll need you 
to let me know as soon as possible. Dayne's willing to start paying your salary 
November 1, which means you could wrap things up here in the next few weeks and 
spend November with your family-waiting for results on the bar exam."
Spend November in Bloomington with his family? Leave the city and have the 
salary to buy a house less than an hour from his dad and sisters? The news was 
beyond anything Luke could've imagined.
Joe moved toward the door. "Hey, Baxter. . ."
"Yes, sir?"
He grinned at Luke over his shoulder. "Good thing you didn't mean those things 
in the tabloids. Sounds like Dayne's taking the whole brother thing pretty 
seriously."
The words hit Luke like a machete. Joe closed the door behind him, and Luke sat 
back in his chair, dazed. What about the tabloids? Dayne was awake, so he was 
bound to see them. Luke hadn't talked to Ashley or his dad about Dayne's
249 
progress. For all he knew the offer was already pulled off the table.
But even if it was, that wasn't the point. Here was Dayne, reaching out to him 
the only way he knew how-by offering him his dream job on a platter. Dayne, who 
hadn't lived a Christian life until lately, had shown himself to be the better 
man by far.
Luke considered the spread in the tabloids. What had made him so mean, so ready 
to lash out? Dayne had done nothing to earn his spite and venom. Shame filled 
him, suffocated him. He'd been raised to believe that love was always the 
answer, that the people sitting around the dining-room table would always be his 
closest friends. How could he have behaved so badly?
Ten minutes passed while he beat himself up, blow after blow after well-deserved 
blow. Then, like the crack of dawn, gradually he began to see things 
differently. No one had called to tell him Dayne's offer had been pulled. So 
maybe he hadn't seen the magazines, or maybe someone had explained them to him 
in a way that didn't upset him. Either way, it might not be too late. He could 
call Dayne and apologize about the tabloids, try to make him understand that it 
wasn't anything personal. And they could talk about Dayne's offer.
He called the hospital on his way home, but a nurse informed him that Dayne had 
requested no phone calls while he was in rehab. She took a message and promised 
to get it to him.
Luke snapped his phone shut, disappointed. He would fly to LA if it meant 
clearing things up with Dayne. He'd acted horribly, and the strange bitterness 
and jealousy he'd been feeling weren't Dayne's fault.
Luke was still sorting through the possible scenarios when he walked through the 
door of his apartment that evening. "Reagan, I'm-"
She walked around the corner, and the sight of her made him weak at the knees. 
She'd been wearing sweatpants and T-shirts lately, and more often than not she 
looked like she'd been
250 
through a marathon by the time he came home. Not tonight. She wore black slacks 
and a tan silky blouse. Her hair and makeup were done.
Her expression wasn't suggestive. Rather it was contrite and deep and full of a 
longing he hadn't seen in months. She came to him and slid her arms around his 
waist, never taking her eyes off his. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" What was happening to him? Someone must've been praying; that's all he 
could figure. He ran his thumb beneath her blonde bangs. "Honey, for what?"
Her eyes sparkled with tears. She took a step back and pulled a letter from her 
pocket. "Here." She handed it to him. "My mom's reading to the kids so I could 
have this time with you." She nodded to the letter. "Read it. Then you'll 
understand."
He took it and studied it. "From my dad?"
She smiled, but her eyes filled a little more. "And your mom."
Luke wasn't sure he could take any more surprises today, but he opened the 
letter anyway. Reagan led him to the sofa near the window-the place where they'd 
had a number of recent fights- and they sat down together.
The first page made the contents clear, and the effort touched Luke's heart. His 
dad cared so much. He moved to the second page and began working his way down 
the list. If his heart had become as hard as concrete, each of his mother's 
secrets chiseled away another piece of cement.
His parents had always been the picture of married love, and now his mother had 
shared her wisdom at a time when he needed it most. Every single point she'd 
made was something he'd known deep in his heart that he was supposed to do. He'd 
watched his parents all his life after all. But he hadn't been doing a single 
one.
No wonder his marriage felt like it was falling apart.
Luke folded the letter and held it to his heart. Only then did the tears come, 
tears that had been building inside him since lit'
251 
first heard the news about Dayne. He missed her so much, his mother. She had 
always loved him in a special way, complimenting him and encouraging him to 
follow his dreams. Living out the things she'd listed on this page. But missing 
her wasn't an excuse for him to treat Reagan poorly.
Next to him, Reagan was looking at her wedding ring, twisting it, waiting for 
him to finish reading.
He set the letter down and turned to her. "Reagan-" he took her hand and wove 
his fingers gently between hers-"how can you ever forgive me?"
"You?" She laughed, but it came out like a quiet sob. "It's my fault. I've. . . 
I haven't loved you like you deserve. Not for a minute. And I've had 
expectations that were all wrong."
He slid closer to her and pulled her into his arms. "That's crazy. I've been 
moody and mean and . . ." He kissed her forehead and kept his face close to 
hers. "I watched my parents model those ten methods of love all my life, but 
these last few months it's like . . . I don't know." He touched his lips to 
hers. "It's like I forgot how to love at all."
"We both did."
"Can you forgive me? Let me make it up to you." He kissed her again, with more 
passion this time. "I've missed you so much. None of this, whatever I'm going 
through. . . none of it's about you."
"I know. But I haven't been very supportive." She drew back and looked him 
straight in the eyes. "Luke, if I haven't said it before, let me say it now. I'm 
so proud of you." Her lips curved into a smile. "You're doing everything you can 
to build us a future, and I don't know if I've ever thanked you." Her voice was 
thick with regret. "I'm so sorry."
For the next half hour they cuddled and kissed and talked about time together 
and love languages. Luke smiled when she said that besides words of affirmation, 
his was acts of service.
"I finally figured out that when you stay in the kitchen
252 
FOREVER
cleaning, you're trying to tell me you love me, right?" She 1,111 her fingers 
along his jawline.
"Right." He felt like a fool. "But all you wanted was this." "Mmm-hmm. Exactly."
When they were finished talking, she grinned at him. "I ha% a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Luke wasn't sure he could take much more. still hadn't told her 
about Dayne's offer.
"Come on." She led him into the kitchen, and there-like something from a 
magazine spread-was the table done up with linens, china, and candles. The smell 
of grilled fish filled the kitchen, and on the stove were two covered pans full 
of rice and vegetables.
He was about to say that she shouldn't have, that the work was more than she 
needed to do, but he stopped himself. "Act,, of service?"
She held his eyes and took both his hands in hers. "I love you, Luke. I'll say 
it in whatever language you want to hear it."
Reagan's mother came around the corner with Malin in her arms and Tommy tagging 
along beside her. "The kids are starved." She smiled tentatively at them. "Is it 
time for dinner?"
"It's time for a lot of things." Luke put his arm around Reagan. Then he 
squatted down and held out his hands to Tommy.
"Daddy!" Tommy ran and put his arms around his neck. "Tommy hungry."
"Yes." Luke swept their son into his arms. He shared a look with Reagan that 
told her he would forever be grateful for this night, for her willingness to 
work on their marriage. Her determination to give love another chance. Luke 
rubbed noses with Tommy. "That's because most of all it's time for dinner."
The meal was the way Luke remembered dinnertime from his childhood. Good food, 
great conversation, and a feeling of love so strong Luke felt energized by it.
They were at the end of the meal when Tommy began banging
253 
his spoon on his plate. "Drum, drum, drum," he said. He grinned at Malin and hit 
his spoon on his plate again, a little harder this time. "Look, Mali. Drum, 
drum, drum!"
Luke was about to say something, but Reagan's mother was closest to the child. 
She put her hand over his and gave him a stern look. "Tommy, your plate is not a 
drum." She took the spoon from him and set it near his plate, neat and orderly. 
"You need to eat like a gentleman."
Tommy looked at his grandma and then down at his plate. His brow lowered, and he 
pursed his lips into an angry face. Then, in slow motion, he turned his hand 
into a gun and slowly pointed it at his grandma. He even closed one eye as he 
took careful aim. Luke knew what was coming, but before he could to anything to 
stop him, Tommy made a loud firing sound.
Then, with great drama, Tommy looked at Reagan across the table. "Tommy shoot 
her." He nodded as if to say Grandma would no longer be a problem.
"Well . . ." Reagan's mother inhaled sharply. Even so, there was a twinkle in 
her eye. "That's not very nice behavior, Tommy."
Luke looked at Reagan. The corners of her mouth were quivering, same as his. Her 
mother was right. Tommy's behavior was completely inappropriate. Luke and Reagan 
had a lot of work to do, figuring out how to parent two children while learning 
how to love each other. But in that moment, as if their hearts had finally 
fallen into alignment, they chose to participate in one of his mother's secrets 
to a happy marriage.
Loud, sidesplitting, heart-cleansing laughter.
254 
11
255
DAYNE STEADIED the bar on his shoulders and willed his back to stay straight as 
he bent his knees. He lowered three, maybe four inches. A little more . . . just 
a little more. His body shook as if he were the heroin addict he'd played once 
in a movie. But he pushed himself another inch. Then with what was left of his 
strength he rose to a fully straight position. "Ten." He blew the air from his 
lungs and sucked in a series of breaths.
Katy helped him lift the bar over his head and set it back on the rack. "That's 
your best yet."
"Thanks." He smiled at her, but he could feel it fall short of his eyes. "It has 
to be better."
She seemed to hold her breath for a moment, as if she wasn't sure she should 
speak her mind. Then she exhaled in a defeated sort of way. "Maybe you're 
pushing too hard."
"I'm not." He limped to the nearest bench, grabbed his towel from the floor, and 
dabbed at his face. Sweat streamed down his forehead. He'd never known so much 
pain in his entire life. He dropped his towel and reached for his water bottle. 
When he'd
256 
downed half of it, he looked at Katy. "I want to get out of this place."
"I know." Katy looked worried. "Just be careful. Healing is a process, remember? 
That's what the physical therapist told you."
"The process has to be faster." He closed his water bottle, dropped it on the 
floor, and stared at his legs. They still didn't move right, though he'd been 
told by several doctors that they would in time. He was fully awake now, his 
voice and mind and thoughts working clearly and keenly the way they had before 
the accident.
His doctors had moved him to a rehab facility, where Katy had kept her promise. 
As much as possible she stayed by him, encouraging him, pushing him. They were a 
little more than a week into the rehab process, and he had a much better 
understanding of Dr. Deming's original assessment. Even with the way he was 
pushing himself, the process was unbelievably slow.
"Crunches next." He lay back on the bench and used his hands to pull his right 
leg up until his foot was on the black bench top. The effort left him out of 
breath, and he paused until he found another reserve of strength. Then he did 
the same thing with his left leg, so his feet were together, knees bent.
"Want me to help?" Katy sounded tentative.
"Not this time." He hesitated long enough to reach for her hand. His tone 
softened. "But thanks. I couldn't do this without
you."
She narrowed her eyes, concern coloring her expression. She sat down in a chair 
opposite him. "I'll count."
Dayne focused his energy on his midsection. At first he had needed her to help 
lift his legs, and then after a few days she helped hold his knees together 
while he did the exercises. Now he could do them without her help.
He pressed upward, again shaking so hard he could barely stay on the bench. He 
was supposed to blow out with every exertion, but sometimes it was impossible to 
breathe and work all at
257 
once. This was one of those times. He held his breath as he lifted himself 
higher. . . higher. . . until his elbows brushed against his knees.
"One." Katy shifted in her chair. "You're sure you're okay?"
He lowered himself, his sides heaving from the exertion. "Yes." He looked at 
her. "Please, Katy . . . push me. Don't talk me into giving up."
She bit her lip and nodded. "Okay. I'll try."
Once more he steadied himself. Then with all his energy directed at his 
abdominal muscles, he lifted up.
"Two." Katy sounded more encouraging. "You can do it, Dayne. Come on."
It was better during these sets if he thought about something else, if Katy's 
counting in the background was nothing more than a distant marker. This time his 
mind made its way back to the beginning of this journey. In the first few days 
after he came out of the coma, he'd had trouble remembering simple things. Even 
so he was able to piece together what happened. By the third day, he talked Katy 
into showing him photographs of the accident, the ones that had appeared in the 
tabloids.
"Three."
His heart and soul filled with fury at the price he'd paid for the paparazzi 
madness. His agent had discussed the possibility of suing them, but since 
criminal charges had been brought against two of them, Dayne decided he'd let 
the law take its course. He had too much to be joyful about to waste his time 
thinking about the tabloids.
"Four. Come on. . . ."
The accident had been horrific. Everyone considered it against the odds that he 
had survived, and the lack of brain damage was a miracle. Nothing less. He had 
talked to John and thanked him for bringing Katy and Ashley to see him. When he 
didn't feel he could move another muscle, the picture of his family reaching out 
to him that way was enough to keep him going.
258 "Five." There was determination in Katy's tone. "You're halfdi's
confession that she had been interested in him but maybe now she was more 
interested in Dayne's faith. Prayers had been answered in every area of his 
life, and there remained just one that mattered. He wanted out of the rehab 
facility in time to get to Bloomington by Thanksgiving.
He was driven to make the goal. At least twice a day his thera- pist told him it 
wouldn't happen. "You're making amazing prog- ress, Dayne, but you have to 
understand. Every muscle in your body has been atrophying for a month. We've 
assessed your physical condition, and I'd have to stick with the original plan. 
Three weeks of rehab for every week you were in a coma."
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and it knocked him back for a few 
seconds. His face was fiery red, the veins near his temple pulsing from the 
effort. His left leg was severely scarred above the knee, and his entire body 
looked like a skeletal version of his old self. He was grateful the facility was 
guarded 24-7 from paparazzi. The last thing he needed was for them to
The most amazing thing about his recovery was that Katy had stayed with him. 
That she had literally kept by his side hour by hour, praying for him to wake 
up. How had he been blessed with a woman who could give him that kind of love? 
She could've stayed for a week, then kissed him good-bye and prayed for him from 
a distance. There had been no way to tell if his coma would last a month or 
three months or a year. But according to Dr. Deming, she never once wavered. She 
stayed with Dayne until
"Nine." Katy was on her feet. "Come on, one more."
He had a picture in his head. Him and Katy, hand in hand,
FOREVER
termination in Katy's tone. "You're half- ,oing."
li's confession that she had been inter- now she was more interested in Dayne's 
answered in every area of his life, and e that mattered. He wanted out of the 
get to Bloomington by Thanksgiving.
:e the goal. At least twice a day his thera- . happen. "You're making amazing 
prog- we to understand. Every muscle in your ring for a month. We've assessed 
your I'd have to stick with the original plan. every week you were in a coma."
t, Dayne."
of himself in the mirror, and it knocked ids. His face was fiery red, the veins 
near m the effort. His left leg was severely and his entire body looked like a 
skeletal -le was grateful the facility was guarded le last thing he needed was 
for them to )king like this.
ing about his recovery was that Katy had he had literally kept by his side hour 
by wake up. How had he been blessed with ye him that kind of love? She could've 
kissed him good-bye and prayed for him Lad been no way to tell if his coma would 
nonths or a year. But according to Dr. E. . wavered. She stayed with Dayne until 
e.
her feet. "Come on, one more."
his head. Him and Katy, hand in hand,
way there, baby. Keep going." He knew about Ran
"Six."
"Seven. You can do it, Dayne."
snap pictures of him looking like this. "Eight."
someone made her leave.
259 
walking into the Baxter house and being greeted by his entire family-Kari and 
Ryan and their kids, Brooke and Peter and their girls, Ashley and Landon and 
their boys, Erin and Sam and their four little girls, and Luke and Reagan and 
their two. At the head of the table would be John Baxter, and for that one 
moment he could imagine how it might've been growing up with these people. 
Sharing Thanksgivings and Christmases and every other special occasion with 
them. That single moment would make every grueling day of rehab more than worth 
the effort.
"Ten!" Katy put her hand on his shoulder. "Dayne, that's a record."
He was breathing too hard to speak. She reached out to help him up from the 
bench, but he gave a slight shake of his head. Everything he did on his own 
would be one more step toward a complete recovery. With a strength he didn't 
know he had, he sat up, swung his feet onto the floor, and braced his hands on 
his knees.
The therapist approached him. "I was watching." He gave a quietly incredulous 
laugh. "I work with a lot of clients. I've never seen anyone with your tenacity. 
I mean that."
Katy breathed out, as if no matter how encouraging she'd tried to sound, she'd 
been anxious all the same. "He's not pushing himself too hard, is he?"
"Not really." The therapist was a young guy with barely any body fat and a 
fanatical understanding of the human body and how to make it work again. "These 
exercises can't hurt him." He bent his knees and leaned over, looking at Dayne's 
leg. "We're strengthening his core first, and after that we'll work the finer 
motor movements. Running, zigzagging through cones-that sort of thing."
Dayne nodded and tried not to feel discouraged. "See? It's not too much."
The therapist shook his head. "I have to say, your progress is amazing so far." 
He had a chart with him, and he checked it. "I
260 
don't want to promise anything, but right now you're a week ahead of schedule. 
We'll have a stretching session in a few hours if you're up to it."
"I will be."
The therapist grinned. "I like your attitude. See you in a little while." He 
nodded to Katy before heading back through the gym and into his office.
Defeat rattled Dayne's nerves. A week? He'd cut only a week from his rehab? He 
needed more than that. He wanted to finish six weeks early, and he was willing 
to work around the clock to do it. But he needed to start gaining ground a lot 
more quickly than he had been. He reached for his towel and flung it around his 
neck. "I need a shower."
Katy took the cue. "I'll be in your room."
"Hey." He suddenly realized how callous he sounded. He stopped and caught her 
hand. The look on her face melted him. "Thank you."
She met his eyes and held them. "I can't believe I have you back, Dayne." Her 
eyes told him all the things there wasn't time to say. "I'll be waiting for 
you."
He smiled. "I'll hurry. I want to talk about your last call with Ashley."
"Okay." She no longer asked him if he needed help to the shower room.
Neither did the therapist.
He still limped, but that was better than using a walker- which was what Dr. 
Deming and the therapist had expected of him for the first four weeks.
Katy left through the side door, and Dayne slowly made his way toward the 
showers.
Half an hour later he was dressed and fresh but exhausted from the morning 
workout. He limped through the private waiting room to the hall that led to his 
room. But as he went, a magazine on the coffee table caught his attention.
261 
There was a photo of him and a headline about the war he was waging for his 
life. But in the upper right corner was a headline that said "Family Feud? 
Dayne's Brother Lashes Out."
Dayne felt the blood leave his face. Spots danced before his eyes, and sweat 
broke out on his forehead. What was this, and how come no one had told him? He 
didn't have enough strength to be angry, not when it took everything he had just 
to keep from passing out. He made it to the closest chair before he dropped. The 
workout and the shower had pushed him to the brink, and now this. He put his 
head between his knees and concentrated on staying conscious.
When the spots disappeared, he sat up slowly and took hold of the magazine. It 
was dated ten days ago. What's going on? He read the headline again, but it felt 
like a cruel joke. The story had to be about Luke, but Dayne had talked to him 
since coming out of the coma. He'd also spent a week with him and he'd been 
great. And that was before he learned the truth about their connection. So what 
could the rag possibly have found?
He rested for a moment and then flipped the pages until he saw an angry photo of 
Luke. There it was for the whole world to see. "Luke Baxter wants nothing to do 
with his famous brother." The caption sliced at Dayne's heart and made it hard 
to breathe. Katy must've known about this, so why hadn't she said anything?
Against every bit of his will, he read the rest of the story, the paragraph 
about his birth family, and Luke's quotes and the dirt they'd found on each of 
his siblings. He felt sick and weak. The news detonated inside his heart like a 
roadside bomb. Why? All the time and energy and effort between all of us. . and 
now what? It was all for nothing?
His heart pounded and he felt faint again. He concentrated on the classical 
music playing over the ceiling speakers and the hum of an aquarium a few feet 
away so he wouldn't black out. As he did, a Bible verse whispered to his 
breaking heart. "In all things God works for the good of those who love him."
262 
He squeezed his eyes shut. Not this, Lord. This can never work to Your good.
Yes, son. All things. . I have promised this.
Dayne's breath caught in his throat. Only rarely had he ever heard such a clear 
response from God, but this was one of those times. He opened his eyes. Okay, 
steady. Breathe out. He obeyed his own orders, and after a few out breaths the 
faint feeling lifted.
He needed to think rationally about the story. Katy hadn't mentioned it and 
neither had John. That had to mean something. If the tabloid story had 
devastated the Baxters, someone would've told him. And what about Luke? He 
looked at the magazine spread again and his mind raced. The paparazzi were 
insidious, bent on getting their story at any cost. He was proof of that. So 
maybe they'd badgered Luke into saying something, and maybe they'd misquoted 
him.
Katy and John had probably avoided saying anything so Dayne wouldn't get even 
angrier at the tabs. Anger wouldn't help him find the strength he needed to 
tackle rehabilitation. Katy had reminded him of that every time he brought up 
the accident, every time he talked about how he hoped the photographers who 
caused the crash would serve jail time.
He breathed out again, and the slightest bit of peace took root inside him. But 
just as quickly it died off. Everything was different now. No matter how the 
press had twisted the story, the picture didn't lie. Luke looked like a 
different person from the guy Dayne had spent time with in Los Angeles. He was 
angry, no question. Maybe the anger was directed at the photographer, but what 
about his quotes? Blood didn't make him a Baxter?
After all this time, after all the ways he'd longed for a family, Dayne had 
known best all along. Hadn't he warned John and Ashley? The Baxters were private 
people. Living in the glare of the spotlight, having their photos splashed 
across magazines in grocery checkouts all over the nation would be more than 
they could handle. And here was proof.
263 
"In all things God works for the good"?
Maybe God meant that this find, this magazine, was proof that Dayne shouldn't 
move to Bloomington after all. Maybe the good would be that all of them would be 
spared further damage if he canceled his plans completely. No Thanksgiving 
together, no house on the lake. And what about Katy? She didn't want to live in 
Malibu. He could feel his heart crumbling, feel it landing in a heap near his 
knees.
Before he could make himself stand and finish the journey to his room, he heard 
footsteps in the hall coming closer, closer. Then Katy rounded the corner, her 
face tight with concern. She came to a sudden stop. "Dayne . . ." Her gaze fell 
to the magazine in his hands.
In that moment he didn't have to ask whether the Baxters were suffering from 
their newfound visibility or whether the quotes from Luke were true.
The answers were right there in Katy's eyes.
264 
265
KATY WAS worried about Dayne. It was two days after he found the tabloids and 
read the remarks from Luke, and he seemed to have lost his will to move forward. 
He had barely made an effort in his workouts, and his therapist warned him that 
if he didn't start working harder he'd lose the week he gained.
Dayne was sitting up in bed, finishing his dinner. "Luke's right."
"About what?" Katy had never seen him so shut down, so incommunicative. She had 
begun to wonder if even their engagement might be in jeopardy.
"We're not brothers. Blood doesn't make me a Baxter." He pushed his food table 
and struggled to lift his legs onto the bed. With painfully small movements, he 
slid back against the headboard. He was out of breath when he spoke again. "I 
need to call and cancel Thanksgiving." He flexed the muscles in his jaw, his 
anger controlled but palpable. "This is my home, here in Southern California."
Katy was seized with panic. This was his home? Meaning he no
266 
longer saw a future for the two of them? And wasn't his marriayt proposal based 
on the fact that he was willing to move to Bloom ington, that he wouldn't expose 
her to the insane life of haviny their comings and goings constantly followed by 
paparazzi?
Her mind and heart raced at breakneck speeds, but before shi opened her mouth, 
she prayed. The Lord had brought Daync from the brink of death, but why? So they 
could have anothc painful good-bye? a final ending? She stared at Dayne, trent 
bling. What's happening to him? How come it's all falling apart?
And in the quiet of the room, with therapists moving up and down the hallway 
outside, God spoke to her more clearly than He ever had in her life.
Wait on Me, My daughter. Be still, and know that I am God.
The response filled her senses and brought a swift dose of hope and peace and 
strength. Be still and wait? Was that what God wanted from her? Was she supposed 
to step aside and let the Lord handle Dayne while she did nothing more than 
stand her ground, helping Dayne, encouraging him, waiting for the hurt to wear 
off?
She had the deep and certain sense that the answer was yes.
The next day Dayne's determination tripled. He attacked every task he was given, 
and not until later did he explain himself. "I'm an actor. Maybe it's time I 
stop fighting the tabloids and embrace that fact." He was squeezing a soft ball, 
working on his grip. "If I don't find my way back, I'll lose even that."
Understanding came over Katy like a cold rain. He was no longer fighting for his 
place in the Baxter family. He was running from it. If he focused all his energy 
on acting and embracing the celebrity life, maybe he could numb the pain in his 
heart, find a way to live with it. Again she had no idea where she fit into his 
thinking.
267 
KAREN KINGSBURY
But she'd heard God last night, and until she felt Him leading her another way, 
she would be still and wait. She would love Dayne even when he was unlovable, 
stand by him even when he didn't need her help, and believe that somehow God 
would give them forever even when their future seemed less likely all the time.
Bailey had finished her Algebra II homework and was researching internment camps 
after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Her history teacher was very big on Pearl 
Harbor. Her dad and the boys were at the park with the dog, and her mom was 
sitting next to her at one of the other computers, talking to Ashley on the 
phone.
"I can find out what type of windows our builder used for this house," her mom 
said.
Bailey knew what they were talking about. Katy and Dayne's house and how much 
work needed to be done. Bailey added another three facts about the internment 
camps to her index cards. There. Now she was done.
She switched screens and called up MySpace.com. The beginning of the school year 
had been so busy; she hadn't had time to look through MySpace in more than a 
month.
This morning's rehearsal for Cinderella had been hard. Bailey was one of the 
wicked stepsisters, a part that stretched her acting skills and gave her a 
chance to be funny onstage. Connor was a coachman, and overall the rehearsals 
were going smoothly.
But it wasn't the same without Katy Hart.
Bailey missed her so much-way more than she thought she would. Katy wasn't only 
the greatest director ever-she was like an older sister. Even with all the 
activity in the Flanigan home, it somehow felt empty without Katy coming and 
going.
The Web site came up, and Bailey clicked through the photos on several of her 
friends' pages. Some of them were so dumb.
268 
Girls who had been sweet and innocent in middle school were posting pictures of 
themselves drinking at parties and making out with their boyfriends. It was 
disgusting really.
She clicked back out of them and went to Tanner's page. He didn't care about 
MySpace much, so he hardly ever posted comments or pictures. But every now and 
then she liked to look at it anyway. In the profile section people had a choice 
to say whether they were in a relationship or not. It made her smile when she 
looked at that part of Tanner's page and saw the words in a relationship.
Bryan Smythe-the player from CKT-was still making attempts at getting her 
attention. He said all the right things, but every time she talked to her 
friends or her parents about him, she had the same feeling. That she was working 
too hard to convince herself that he was a good guy when in fact he was probably 
nothing more than a smooth talker. Bryan wasn't in Cinderella. He was on his 
school's golf team, and that took up much of his time. But he showed up after 
practice now and then. Always he had something sweet to say. "I couldn't fall 
asleep last night, Bailey. Every time I closed my eyes you were there." Or "The 
stars are nothing next to your eyes, Bailey."
Most of the time Bailey was glad she had Tanner. He was busy with football, and 
three weeks into the season he'd won the starting job. He was the team star, no 
doubt, and she was proud of him. More than that, she loved the way he gave her 
space. No jealousies or pressures from Tanner Williams.
Next to her, the conversation sounded more emotional. "Ashley, we'll think of 
something." Her mother's voice was calm, the way it always was when someone was 
upset. The way it was when Bailey was upset. She loved that about her mother-the 
fact that she could look at things rationally even when the world felt like it 
was falling apart.
She turned to her mom and whispered, "Is this about the house?"
269 
Her mother nodded and covered the receiver. "Ashley doesn't think she'll have 
enough people to help her. She still wants it done by Thanksgiving."
An idea hit Bailey, and she jumped to her feet. "I know!" "Shhh." Her mother's 
eyes grew wide. She motioned for Bailey to sit back down.
When she did, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "It's perfect! We'll have the 
CKT kids help out! We could get dozens of kids and parents over there, and the 
work would happen super fast."
Her mother smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Then she stood and took the phone 
into the next room. "So Bailey has an idea. . . ." The sound of the conversation 
faded.
Bailey turned back to Tanner's MySpace. There were always comments from girls, 
the sleazy types who would drop a line the way fishermen dropped a hook full of 
bait. Rarely did Tanner ever answer them, though. Once in a while Bailey looked, 
and every time she came away satisfied that Tanner was the real deal. A great 
friend first and a loyal boyfriend second.
She looked through his comments, each one accompanied by the MySpace picture of 
the person who left it. They were all pretty harmless. Hey, Tanner, great game 
Friday. You rock! and Northlake is shaking in their boots, buddy. Way to keep 
the mojo going. There were a few comments from girls, reiterating what a great 
job he was doing leading the team.
Halfway down there was a comment from a girl Bailey didn't recognize. Last night 
was amazing, Tanner Williams. And, yes, I'll hang out with you again sometime 
soon! Let's make it a plan. lot. Remember this? Wait for it. . . wait for it. . 
. ha-ha. You make me laugh. ttyl.
Bailey felt a shiver run down her back. What in the world was the girl talking 
about? The football team had played away last night, and Bailey had been at CKT 
rehearsal. So who was the girl, and how had she managed to hang out with Tanner? 
He was
270 
supposed to be hanging out at Alex's house. Bailey leaned forward. Her stomach 
hurt. The girl's ID was Maybe Tonight, and she had the cheap photo to match. 
Bailey stared at her picture and clicked it.
Instantly she was on the girl's MySpace. Whoever she was, she had pictures of 
herself all over her page. In a few of them she was wearing only a bikini. 
Bailey scanned her profile. Her real name was nowhere in sight, but she was 
eighteen and lived north of Bloomington, which meant she didn't attend Clear 
Creek High.
"Okay, so what about you and Tanner?" Bailey asked. She felt like she did when 
she was called on to answer a pop-quiz question in front of the class. Clammy 
and cold and scared to death. Tanner wouldn't have done anything behind her 
back, would he? Not Tanner.
She scrolled down the page until she saw Tanner's picture. The date was 
yesterday, and his comment said, I didn't know you knew Alex! And, ya, about the 
waiting. Sometimes that makes things more interesting. You never know.
"What?" Bailey was on her feet again. She turned and paced into the kitchen and 
then back. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and fired off a text to 
Tanner. So what'd you do last night?
She hit Send just as her mother came back from the family room and hung up the 
phone. "Poor Ashley; she has so much work to do."
Bailey stared at her mother and pointed to the computer screen. "Tanner hung out 
with some other girl last night. Read it."
Immediately her mother's expression changed. Ashley's concerns were important, 
but Bailey's took precedence.
Bailey clicked to the comment on Tanner's space, then back to the one on the 
girl's.
"Hmm." Her mother looked at Bailey. "Doesn't look real good."
This was another thing Bailey loved about her mother. Both
271 
her parents liked Tanner, but they always told Bailey not to get too attached. 
She was too young for a serious relationship. But here-when it felt like her 
world was falling in around her-- Bailey could count on her mom to take things 
seriously. She didn't roll her eyes and make some snappy remark about it being 
for the best or cluck her tongue against the roof of her mouth and mention 
something about having told her so.
Instead she did the one thing Bailey wanted her to do. She held out her arms. 
"Come here, honey."
Bailey fell into the hug and willed herself not to cry. She was too mad anyway. 
How dare Tanner go to Alex's and hang out with some other girl. She didn't even 
want to imagine what Tanner must've told her to wait for. Him? His kiss? Or 
something even more serious?
Her phone beeped three times. She pulled back and flipped it open. Tanner's 
message was short. I hung out with the guys at Alex's house. You had practice, 
right?
Her anger became a rage. She clenched her teeth and let out a furious cry. "How 
dare he lie to me?" She looked at her mother and shook her head. "All this time 
I trusted him." Hurt took the edge in her tone. "All this time."
The calm was there in her mother's face. "There might be more to the story, 
Bailey. You should call him."
"I should, but I won't." She was too mad. If he couldn't tell her the truth, 
then forget him. She could spend her junior year without a boyfriend. She opened 
her phone and punched a series of buttons as fast and hard as she could. Hey, 
I've been thinking. .
maybe we should take some time away from each other. You know, see other people.
"What are you-?"
She hit Send before her mother finished her sentence. Bailey snapped the phone 
shut and looked up. "There. I broke up with him."
"Bailey!" Her mother couldn't have looked more astonished if
272 
Bailey had sprouted a tail. "You can't break up with a boy oN text messages."
"Well, I just did." She was still mad, but tears were filling liei eyes anyway. 
"He lied to me, Mom. All the guys at Alex's knm he was talking to some-" she 
gestured toward the computei screen-"some girl. And then he goes and lies to 
me."
"Okay, so you call him up and ask him over. You take a wall, and talk about 
things." She ran her hand down Bailey's arm "Tanner's been a very good friend. 
He deserves more than that.-
"And I deserve more than that." She jerked her thumb at the screen. Her tone was 
sounding a little rude. She made her voice get quieter. "I'm sorry. It's not 
your fault."
"It's okay." Her mother put her hands on Bailey's shoulders. "Listen, sweetie. 
You have to call Tanner. We're friends with his family, and his mother would 
never understand why I let you break up with him over texting."
Before Bailey could try to explain herself again, her phone beeped. A part of 
her didn't want to open it. Her mother was right about Tanner. He deserved a 
phone call at least. She stared at her phone. She never should've checked 
Tanner's MySpace, never should've sent that last text message.
Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the phone. His message read, Uh . . okay. 
So is that it? We're finished?
She blinked back her tears. For a few seconds she considered calling him and 
telling him everything her mother had suggested. That he should come over and 
the two of them should talk. But pride consumed her, filled her heart and soul, 
and before she could stop herself she tapped at the buttons again. I guess I 
just don't want a boyfriend right now.
Her mother tilted her head. "Bailey . . . call him."
"I will later." She brushed her fingers beneath her eyes. Everything had been 
going so good until now. That's why she hated MySpace. It always made a mess of 
everything.
Once more her phone beeped. She flipped it open and read his
273 
response three times. Okay then . . . wish I knew what I did. Guess I'll see you 
around.
Wait . . . what had she done? Had she really just broken up with Tanner 
Williams? In five minutes flat? The guy she'd had a crush on since fourth grade, 
the one her friends thought would be her boyfriend all through high school? Was 
it that easy to rip a friendship in half?
She looked at her mom. "What just happened?"
"It might take a while to figure that out." tier mom hugged her for a long time. 
"Promise me you'll call him, Bailey. Please."
"I will eventually." She wiped her tears and tried to put the incident out of 
her mind. She poured herself a glass of juice and sat at the kitchen bar. "It's 
okay. We'll still be friends." But even as she said the words she wasn't 
completely sure. "Let's talk about Katy and Dayne."
And they did for the next fifteen minutes. They dreamed about getting a group of 
kids over to the lake house and hauling away every piece of debris in the yard. 
But all the while Bailey couldn't take her mind off the strange feeling inside 
her, a feeling she'd never known before.
It wasn't until that night-after never getting up the nerve to call Tanner-that 
she finally realized what she was feeling. Her heart was breaking.
The first boy she ever liked was out of her life. Whatever had happened and 
whatever had gone wrong didn't really matter. It was over with him. And she 
would never, ever be the same again.
274 
275 
JOHN BAXTER enjoyed the drive to Indianapolis-especially when he was picking up 
one of his kids at the airport the way he was this early afternoon. Luke and 
Reagan and the kids were coming and would be staying in Luke's old room at the 
Baxter house for the next five weeks. It would be wonderful-a little wild, 
maybe, but John could hardly wait to have the sound of children in the house 
morning and night.
John relaxed in his seat and settled into the middle lane. The skies were blue 
across Indiana this October day, and the fall figured to be milder than usual. 
But that wasn't necessarily true for the relationships between his children.
The radio was on, a song playing from an oldies station. John flipped it off and 
sorted through the events of the past three weeks. Much had been worked out 
between Luke and Reagan, so that wasn't a worry. At least not for now.
The problem was Luke and Dayne and how they'd get along if Dayne made it home 
for Thanksgiving. The magazine article had stirred up quite a mess throughout 
the family. For a few weeks,
276 
Ashley and the other girls had been angry with Luke, wondering how he could say 
such a thing about Dayne.
But then Luke passed around an explanation. He'd been caught off guard, and 
though he meant what he said, he didn't mean it definitively. Just in the 
moment. The trouble was, John didn't know if he believed that story entirely. 
He'd talked to Luke more than anyone else, and the quotes seemed like more than 
an off moment. They seemed perfectly in line with the way Luke had been feeling.
Up until he learned about the offer from Dayne, anyway. The opportunity was 
amazing for Luke and his family. For all of them really. Move to Indianapolis or 
even a suburb south of the city. Live within an hour of his family and have a 
high-paying job with only one primary client-his brother, Dayne. What could be 
better?
Luke and Dayne had spoken once since Dayne came out of the coma, and Dayne had 
reassured him that the offer was good. Whether Dayne moved to Bloomington or 
not. Luke didn't mention the tabloid story and neither did Dayne. Luke seemed to 
think that everything was okay between them, but John wasn't sure.
Since then Dayne had stumbled onto one of the tabloids, and now he knew about 
Luke's quotes. Luke had tried to call and apologize, but Dayne wasn't taking 
calls. Apparently Dayne's job offer to Luke was still good-Luke hadn't heard 
otherwise. But everything else about the future seemed tentative.
John passed a slow-moving trailer and then slipped back into the middle lane. He 
had a feeling about the coming months. If Dayne felt any hesitancy from Luke, he 
would walk away and never look back. Dayne wouldn't come between them; he'd said 
that from the beginning. Dayne had been mostly worried about how his connection 
to the Baxters would hurt them. But his desire to know them had won out. At 
least until now.
John couldn't help but worry about the relationship between
277 
Luke and Dayne, especially in light of what Dayne had told him yesterday. He was 
getting better, working as hard as he could.
"I have to be honest, though. I'm not sure we're going through with our plans to 
move there." Dayne's words had been almost matter-of-fact. But hidden in his 
tone was a hurt that John could do nothing about.
John reached the airport and left his car in short-term parking. Inside he 
joined a small group waiting to meet passengers. He found a place away from the 
crowd, and as he did, he noticed a young man in an army uniform walking toward 
them.
Only one person was there to greet the soldier-a man who must've been his 
father. When they spotted each other, the soldier heaved his bag over his 
shoulder and took the last steps running. They grabbed onto each other hard and 
didn't let go for half a minute. From where John was standing he could hear what 
they were saying.
The older man was crying openly. "I prayed for you every day, Son. I'm so proud 
of you."
In return, the soldier beamed. As if every dusty mile, every dangerous mission, 
every sandy sleeping bunk was worth it all to hear those five powerful words. 
I'm so proud of you.
The older man took the soldier's bag, and the two walked off.
But the scene made John think. How long had it been since he'd told Luke he was 
proud of him? A month? Two? Longer, even? All the talk lately had been about 
Dayne, and John was unapologetically proud of his oldest son. Dayne had followed 
his dreams, and despite wild success, he'd found his way home-in every way that 
mattered.
Still, he was proud of Luke too. Very proud.
He was making a mental note to tell him so when he saw the four of them. Luke 
was carrying Malin, and Tommy was holding Reagan's hand. They looked tired. Even 
so, as soon as their eyes met, John could tell something about his youngest son. 
There was humility and sorrow and pain in his expression.
278 Ashley pulled into the d.riveway of the lakeside home, drove up close to the 
front, and parked. What a day. Practice for Cinderella had been crazier than 
ever before. They needed Katy so badly that she and Rhonda were considering 
talking to Bethany about postponing the performances-moving them
The trouble was the prince. Connor Flanigan almost got the part, except Rhonda 
no that the prhice should be someone old enough to shave. Ideally, anyway. The 
guy who landed the role was skinny and awkward and the only one tall enough to 
wear the costume. He didn't have a romantic bone in his body. He knew his lines, 
but every time he spoke Ashley had the desire
Ashley gripped the steering wheel with both hands and let her head fall forward. 
She needed to put CKT out of her mind. They still had several weeks before 
opening night. God had been working miracles left an right-first with Dayne, 
then with her family's willingness to help on the house, even if it looked 
impossible that they'd finish it before Thanksgiving. The play
She lifted her head and stared at the old structure. Okay, God
Landon and Kari's husband, Ryan, had taken the kids fishing. It was Ryan 
Junior's first time, and the men were excited about the chance to indoctrinate 
another of the kids in the joy of angling. Her plan today was to make a list. An 
extensive list. She had lined up a contractor to do the counters and floors. But 
other-
FOREVER
Lriveway of the L td parked. WIL zier than ever be Rhonda were ling the erorr
prince. Connor led that the pro eally, anyway. 1 rwar and the id
have a rorr very time he I .erin wheel wit
eeto put
CK
before enin d right-first wi help on the h( Finish it before It could pper id 
stared at the c
san Ryan, ha, time, and the me nother
of the kic o make a list. Ai ) do the counter
i1I
Luke was hurting too. And that meant-whatever Luke's mistakes-John could only 
hope that I
us trek here was a one thing and one thing only.
Making amends.
. And that meani
)nly hope that
; only.
boil I
into December maybe.
to yawn.
could turn out all right. It could happen.
. . . help me figure this out.
279 
wise, they were on their own. She stepped out of the van and looked around. On a 
pad of paper she wrote:
1.Mow yard, front and back
Pull weeds, front and back
She wanted to start at the back of the house, the area where Dayne and Katy 
would spend most of their time. The minute she rounded the corner and looked at 
the deck she let her notepad hang at her side.
It was never going to happen. Not unless she could get half of Bloomington out 
here to help. She toyed with the idea of chucking the whole project. But then 
gradually she remembered the television show. Slowly she felt her determination 
rise. They pulled off jobs like this in just a week on TV. If God brought the 
right people, it could still happen.
She lifted her pad and started writing.
2.Clear debris.
Rebuild decks.
The back door was broken, so she had no trouble getting in. She worked her way 
through the downstairs and up into every room on the second floor. Finally she 
returned to the backyard, where she was scrutinizing the windows when she felt a 
hand on her shoulder. She screamed and spun around.
"Sony." It was Luke, and he was by himself. He laughed and made the same face he 
used to make when he was a kid. "I couldn't resist."
"Thanks." She bent over and willed her heart to remember how to beat. "You 
scared me." She caught her breath and stood straight again. "Hey . . . what are 
you doing here?" Now that the shock had worn off, she squealed and flung her 
arms around his neck. "You're a month early."
280 
He laughed and put his arms around her waist. "Dad's good. I asked him to keep 
it a secret." His expression fell, and he searched her face. "I have to talk to 
you, Ash. I've messed things up with a lot of people. I want to start changing 
that." He released her and slipped his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the 
back of the house. "It has potential."
"It does. I made a list of what needs to be done." Ashley handed it to him. 
"It's ten pages."
Luke let out a low whistle. "Dad says you're working with a contractor?"
"I was. He's doing the counters and floors." She studied her brother, and joy 
lifted her mood. Luke had been her best friend when they were kids. She had to 
spend only a few minutes with him to remember why. "So what brings you? Work?"
A grin lightened Luke's expression. "Yep. All month." He pointed at the old 
house. "Working right here next to you."
Ashley's mouth opened, and she sucked in a slow breath. "Are you serious? That's 
why you're here?"
"It is." The teasing left his eyes. "I figured something out."
She wandered to the old, broken-down picnic table and sat on top. He followed 
and took the spot next to her. "What?"
"I figured out why I was so mad all the time." He put his hands behind him and 
leaned back against his arms. "You knoNN with the whole Dayne situation."
"Why?" Ashley had wanted this moment for a long time-tilt! chance to sit next to 
her brother and try to decipher his heart
He looked out toward the lake. "All my life I wanted .1 brother." He grinned at 
her. "You were a good substitute, Ash But I still wanted a brother." He turned 
his attention back to tilt lake. "It wasn't something I talked about."
A glimmer of understanding flickered in her soul.
"Anyway, so here I am all grown up with a family of my m and I get word that 
hey, what do you know? I do have a brot I Only he's a famous movie star and he's 
moving to Bloomingt oil
281 
Strange as it sounds, I think I was mad at everyone. Mad at Mom and Dad for 
never telling us and mad at Dayne for not being there all those years. And maybe 
mad that he turned out to be so famous. Because now-even if I did find a way to 
connect with him-he wouldn't have time for me."
Ashley didn't have to state the obvious. That none of what had happened to their 
family was Dayne's fault. Instead she slipped her arm around Luke's shoulders. 
"I can see that."
"Even hearing myself tell you makes me mad. What right do I have to be so 
selfish? It's like you said. None of us can change the facts. We have a brother. 
He has a very public life. And right now he has more than that-he has hurdles to 
overcome that I know nothing about." He narrowed his eyes, and his expression 
grew determined. "That's why I'm here. My brother needs me."
Ashley rested her head on his shoulder. "You're right. And I need you too." She 
took her arm from his shoulders and studied her list. "There's so much to do."
"Let's see." Luke looked at the first page. "You have people lined up to help, 
right?"
"On the weekends, yes." She felt the doubts rising inside her again. "If Dayne 
gets through rehab in record time, we have just four weeks and two days to get 
the job finished."
"Well then." He rolled up his sleeves. "Let's see what we can get done right 
now."
And with that, they headed into the house and spent the next few hours dragging 
out broken bookcases and old blinds and other damaged items.
By the end of the afternoon, they were tired and dirty. But Luke looked happier 
than he'd been since last spring. Ashley knew him well enough to understand why.
He wasn't only talking about having a brother. He was loving him.
In the best way he knew how.
280 IM1 =NM AEI 
281
No ONE could believe the progress Dayne was making. Not Dr. Deming or Dayne's 
therapist or anyone at the rehab center. Not anyone involved in conventional 
understanding of traumatic brain injuries and the recovery time after a 
month-long coma. No one who heard about his progress or saw it detailed in a 
file or witnessed it firsthand could believe it.
No one except Katy.
Dayne looked at her. She was sitting across from him, the same place she always 
sat while he did his four daily workouts. He had the bar across his shoulders, 
about to do another series of knee bends. The therapist had already laid out the 
routine for this session, and now he was in his office. Katy and Dayne were 
alone-just the two of them and the clank of the weights balanced on either end 
of the bar.
"Want me to count?"
"No." He clenched his teeth and stared across the room, as if he could tangibly 
see the goal in front of him. "Hit Play." Katy hit the Play button on the CD 
player. The pulsing beat of
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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
No ONE could believe the progress Dayne was making. Not Dr. Deming or Dayne's 
therapist or anyone at the rehab center. Not anyone involved in conventional 
understanding of traumatic brain injuries and the recovery time after a 
month-long coma. No one who heard about his progress or saw it detailed in a 
file or witnessed it firsthand could believe it.
No one except Katy.
Dayne looked at her. She was sitting across from him, the same place she always 
sat while he did his four daily workouts. He had the bar across his shoulders, 
about to do another series of knee bends. The therapist had already laid out the 
routine for this session, and now he was in his office. Katy and Dayne were 
alone-just the two of them and the clank of the weights balanced on either end 
of the bar.
"Want me to count?"
"No." He clenched his teeth and stared across the room, as if he could tangibly 
see the goal in front of him. "Hit Play." Katy hit the Play button on the CD 
player. The pulsing beat ol
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something by the Fray filled the space. A week into his reli,11, Katy had 
brought Dayne his MacBook from home. He iTunes to create four CDs, each one 
loaded with music 111.0 helped drive him. There were movie themes and megahits 
and Christian songs, all with the same message-don't stop tryinr, don't ever 
give up.
When they weren't talking about his progress or workin:, toward his progress, 
they watched inspirational movies or tool, turns reading the Bible. He posted 
Scriptures on the walls arid nightstand. Nothing is impossible with God. . . I 
can do evetythin,i; through him who gives me strength. . the battle is the 
Lord's . . . and many others. His efforts were singly focused. He wanted to be 
sitr rounded by whatever drove him emotionally and spiritually.
The transformation was amazing. Dayne's first day of rehal) had been so taxing 
that they'd both been sick. Dayne's bock shook just shuffling with a walker 
three feet down the hallwa) Back then he was thin and pasty, and he broke into a 
sweat getting out of bed.
"Four." Dayne pushed out the word and then bent again. He didn't make eye 
contact. No distractions. Not until he marked another notch on his chart, 
finished another session.
His form was perfect now-a complete knee bend with more weight on the bar than a 
rehab patient almost ever used. Strength wasn't the issue anymore, though he 
still walked with a slight limp. The goal was his fine motor skills. In fact, 
the therapist had told him that most patients in Dayne's condition would be 
discharged by now. A person could receive help with finemotor-skill 
rehabilitation on an outpatient basis.
"If I stay," Dayne asked a few days ago, "will my progress be faster?"
"The way you attack rehab?" The therapist laughed. "No question about it."
"Okay." He felt steely determination. "Then I stay."
So Dayne split his time between the intense physical work
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outs-like the one he was starting now-and sessions on improving his hand-eye 
coordination and other routine movements. He worked on eating without a spill 
and using a pen or tapping out numbers on a cell phone.
Time in the workout room helped, of course. The stronger his core muscles, the 
more likely every nerve and muscle in his body would respond. That's why Dayne 
hadn't let up. Not one day. Not one session.
"Push me harder," he would say at the beginning of each meeting with his 
therapist. "It's not enough."
It was the same way with his meals. He wanted high protein and fresh vegetables 
and complex carbohydrates. In large quantities. As of this morning, he'd gained 
back all but five pounds of the weight he'd lost while in the coma.
"I've never seen anything like it." Dr. Deming stopped in after his weigh-in. 
"You're a walking precedent, Dayne. Whatever's driving you, stay with it." The 
doctor flipped through Dayne's chart. "I never would've said this before, but I 
believe you'll make a complete recovery." She patted her rounded abdomen. 
"Before this little one comes around Christmastime."
There was only one problem. The thing that was driving him had changed. At first 
it had been his Thanksgiving goal. He wanted out of Los Angeles, away from the 
paparazzi, and he wanted it without a change in the original plan. For the first 
week or so, his determination to heal had everything to do with the Baxters and 
his move to Bloomington. If he stayed on schedule, he could meet his entire 
birth family in one setting and know that he wasn't a visitor.
He was home.
If he missed Thanksgiving, he might not have a chance to visit with his entire 
family in one setting until his wedding. So he worked. To the point of passing 
out or throwing up or falling exhausted into bed each night, he worked. And for 
that first week, nothing looked like it would get in the way of his goal.
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But then he found the magazine. At first he'd been angry at Katy for not saying 
something, angry with John for pretending everything was okay.
"Ten." His face was sweating, his shirt damp.
Katy stood and took a step toward him. "Want help with the-?"
"No." He didn't look at her. "I'm fine."
She sat back down.
He didn't mean to snap at her, but he'd been doing it more often lately. Maybe 
because he'd become more of a machine or maybe because he was shutting himself 
off from feeling anything.
Whatever the reason, he knew his sharp answers and cold attitude weren't good 
for either of them.
Even still, he could do nothing to stop himself.
Dayne was doing the bench press now, still driven, still focused. The song on 
the player was from the pop charts, and again the beat was fast, driving.
Katy sighed. The hurt was still there, every bit of it. She heard it in his 
short, clipped answers, saw it in the dark shadows on his face. But there was no 
question he'd found purpose again.
Forty-five minutes into his workout, he turned the music off, dropped to the 
bench closest to her, and wiped his face with his towel. "You talked to Ashley 
this morning."
"I did." She felt herself tense. She tried to take the calls in the hallway or 
at her hotel at night. Not that she liked keeping her conversations from him, 
but whenever she talked to one of the Baxters lately, Dayne withdrew. That would 
explain his attitude this morning.
He was out of breath, his sides and chest working hard. He dug his elbows into 
his thighs and stared at the rubber mat.
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"Are you mad?"
The towel was draped over his neck, creating a sort of curtain around his face. 
"What do you think?"
"I don't know." She twisted the engagement ring on her left hand. For weeks 
she'd been careful with her words, guarded in her responses. None of this was 
her fault, so why was he treating her like the enemy? And how come he wouldn't 
talk to her? She'd be better off at home, working with her CKT kids and praying 
for yet another miracle where she and Dayne Matthews were concerned. She was 
willing to be still and wait, but she wasn't sure how much more she could take.
He put his hands on his knees and straightened a little. "Okay." He sounded fed 
up. "Just tell me what she said."
Katy lifted her hands. "Same thing she always says, Dayne." Her heart was a dam 
ready to burst. "She's trying to find people to work on the house, but it isn't 
really coming together. Everyone's hoping and praying you'll be well enough to 
move to Bloomington in time for Thanksgiving. And Luke is sorry for the things 
he said."
Dayne stretched his neck one way and then the other. The pain in his eyes was so 
raw that it hurt to look at him. Katy knew he had talked to his father a few 
times since reading the article. But always the conversations were short. Yes, 
he forgave Luke. No, he wasn't upset.
Finally Dayne raised his brow in her direction. "And you said . . . ?"
"I said what you've asked me to say." She heard a catch in her voice. The edges 
of the dam were crumbling. "You aren't sure about anything, right? That's still 
how you feel?"
"I don't want to talk about it." He threw his towel on the floor, started the 
music, and moved to the butterfly machine. He added weight near the back, ten 
pounds more than he'd used during rehabilitation. Moving with less of a limp, he 
thrust himself onto the seat, raised his arms, and hooked his elbows behind the
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padded bar. After drawing a deep breath, he tightened his features and pushed 
the bars slowly, slowly, until his elbows met in front of him. Then in a 
concentrated move, he resisted the bars as he eased them back to the starting 
position. "One." His voice was gruff and angry.
In a rush, the dam inside Katy broke wide open, crumbled to a million pieces. He 
wouldn't treat her this way, wouldn't talk to her like this. And she couldn't 
stand by and watch while he gave up on everything they'd planned for their 
future. She stood, flipped off the music, and stormed over to him. "Stop!"
His elbows were almost back to center again. He ignored her, shaking as he 
completed the rep. "Two."
"Dayne!" she shrieked. Never mind if the therapist could hear her in his office. 
God never could've meant for her to be still and wait this long. "I said stop!"
He let the weights crash back into place. "What, Katy? What do you want from 
me?"
She grabbed the frame of the machine, her voice still loud, intense. "I want you 
to fight." Everything else in the room faded from view. "The Baxters are your 
family, and there's nothing you can do to change that." She paced a few steps, 
then turned to face him. "Maybe Luke didn't handle the whole thing very well. 
Maybe their privacy's compromised." She lifted her hands. "So what?"
"So what?" He slid to the end of the bench and stood inches from her. "So maybe 
the whole thing's just too hard, okay?" he shouted at her. In the background 
there was the sound of someone shutting the office door. Dayne's anger flashed 
in his eyes. "Maybe I never should've looked for them in the first place."
She clenched her jaw. "Then you never would've found me."
"And maybe that would've been better too." He stood his ground but turned his 
face from her.
"No." She gripped his shoulder. "Don't look away."
He looked at her, and for a few seconds it seemed he might break free from her 
and leave. But he stayed. "It would've been
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better, Katy." He lowered his voice, but every word was a seething blast of 
tangled hurt and rage. "I could stay in my own little world, and no one would 
ever get hurt."
"You would!" Her words were part cry, part scream. She was more out of control 
than ever in her life. Because the stakes were the highest they'd ever been. 
"You would get hurt, because God put us together, and God brought you to the 
Baxters. Okay!" She let go of his shoulder and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, 
it's been rough. All of life is rough, Dayne. But this . . ." Her voice broke.
He turned away again.
"Look at me, please." She was breathing as hard as he was now.
"I can't." Reluctantly, as if he had nothing left to give, his eyes met hers. "I 
can't do this to you anymore. Go home and-" his chin trembled-"I don't know, 
take some time. It's not working."
"No!" Her tone was strong, determined. The tears stayed somewhere deep in her 
heart, waiting for permission. "No, I won't go home and I won't give up. The 
life we can have in Bloomington, your place in the Baxter family-they're worth 
trying for."
"What if they're not?" His words were quick, knifelike. "What if all I get in 
the end is more of this?" He waved at the equipment around him. "More anger and 
pain and heartache? What then?"
"You won't know if you don't try." She was still yelling. "Please, Dayne! Listen 
to me."
"Why?" He stiffened, his eyes blazing. "When I was a kid all I wanted was a 
family, Katy. A mom and dad waiting at home, someone in the audience when I won 
a part in a play. People to laugh with and cry with and learn from. Someone to 
tell me they loved me before I fell asleep each night." He grabbed hold of the 
frames of the machines on either side of him. "So I found them. And I was crazy 
enough to think I might finally belong after all. But it didn't work out, okay?" 
He did an exaggerated laugh. "It's
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a big mess, and everyone-" he shook harder than before, and he held his hands 
up-" everyone loses unless I just walk away."
"You're wrong." There was fire in her tone. "What you felt when you met Ashley 
and Kari and Brooke. . . that feeling of family, of knowing you belong. It's 
worth fighting for. Even if you have to fight until your dying breath." She took 
a few steps back. Suddenly the fight and the tension and the bitterness toward 
the paparazzi left her. And all that remained was the two of them. Her and 
Dayne. This time when she spoke, her tone was full of a quiet, burning passion. 
"It's worth everything, Dayne. You can't tell me it's not."
Slowly, like the subtly fading sky at sunset, Dayne's expression changed. The 
hurt he'd been carrying since he saw the magazine story burst to the surface, 
and it reminded her of something. Katy had witnessed a Southern California 
phenomenon since she'd been there these past two months. The Santa Ana winds. 
Los Angeles skies, typically thick with a mix of fog and smoke and smog, were 
swept clean by the warm, constant winds every October without fail.
That's what it looked like was happening inside Dayne now. As though the pain in 
his soul was suddenly so all-consuming it had the strength to rid his heart of 
every other emotion. The barriers he'd put up fell with a crash, and his eyes 
filled with tears. He held up his fingers to her, so the palm of his hand faced 
her. "Katy . . . please."
She hesitated. These last few weeks he'd hurt her more than she'd admitted even 
to herself. But the look in his eyes said he wasn't running now. She raised her 
hand until their two hands met, palm to palm, fingers to fingers. She realized 
something. Even his touch had been angry lately. Hard and cold and unfeeling.
But not anymore.
A single tear dropped onto his cheek and trickled down his face. "Search your 
heart, Katy. Your soul." He swallowed, and another tear slid from his eyes. "Am 
I there?"
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Her tears came then. "Yes, Dayne. You're there. A part of me." "I need to ask 
you something." He brought up his other hand,
and she did the same, so both their hands were touching. She took a step closer. 
"What?"
"Us." His voice was much quieter now, a painful whisper colored with tears. "Are 
we worth fighting for too?"
She slid her hands up around his neck, and he worked his around her waist. They 
stayed that way, crying in each other's arms, deep silent sobs because of all 
they could've lost.
"I'm sorry." He never broke eye contact. "I shut out everything I was feeling, 
but I . . I shut you out too."
It was the first time since the accident that they'd held each other and cried. 
Dayne had been in too much of a rush to get better, and she in a hurry to help. 
But now every bit of sorrow came at them at once. Silent tears streamed down his 
face and hers, but they didn't look away. He had almost died. Almost. And she 
never would've had the chance to hold him this way. But over the weeks she had 
almost lost him again.
Finally Katy willed the sea of emotion to part long enough so she could speak. 
"Yes, we're worth fighting for."
"Even if we have to live here . . . the rest of our lives?"
Her heart dropped. Leave everything she loved in Bloomington and take on the 
full-time life of celebrity? She swallowed, but she didn't waver another moment. 
"Yes. Even then." Now she searched his face. "Answer me this."
He wiped his cheek on his shoulder. "Okay."
"Promise me you'll go for Thanksgiving if you're cleared to leave." Her heart 
pounded. Their future depended on his answer. She believed with every breath 
that if they could only get there, God and the Baxters would take care of the 
rest. Then Dayne would see that he was wrong, that his family did care about 
him. That they were willing to fight for him the same way she wanted him to 
fight for them.
A skirmish played out in his eyes, pride and futility versus 3
292 
promise bright enough to expel any darkness. "I want it so badly." He clenched 
his teeth, and his whispered words barely made it through. "What if everyone 
walks away more hurt than before?"
"Then . . ." A lump formed in her throat. She waited, her eyes locked on his. 
"Then at least you fought. Please, Dayne . promise me."
New tears pooled in his eyes. Whatever he was about to say, the words would be 
coming from the deepest place in his heart. "I'm afraid. . . . It already hurts 
so much."
She would've done anything in that instant to love away his pain, but she did 
the only thing she could. She pulled him close and held him, pressing her head 
to his chest. "I'll never leave you."
"I know." He sheltered her head with his hand. After a while he stepped back, 
and his eyes told her what he was about to say before he voiced it. "I'll go. 
I'll pray and I'll trust and I'll fight. And if it doesn't work-" he kissed her 
brow-"then we come back here and never look back."
A shiver ran down her arms. What if it didn't work out? What if Luke was cold or 
distant and the tension made Dayne feel like running?
Before Katy could work herself into a frenzy of fear, the full and clear voice 
of God spoke straight to her soul again. Wait on Me, daughter. Be still, and 
know that I am God.
Suddenly the light in Dayne's eyes shone in her heart as well, and she had a 
clearer understanding. God wasn't asking her to wait on Dayne, to sit quietly by 
and let things fester in silence. He was asking her to wait on Him, on His 
power, the power He would use to bring everyone together once and for 
all-without misunderstanding or jealousy or bitterness or fear.
He was asking her to wait for Thanksgiving.
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LUKE WAS on the roof, pounding in the last of a section of shingles. With every 
swing of his hammer, every drop of sweat, he felt his angry heart healing, felt 
it growing and filling him with love, joy, peace, and patience, with goodness, 
kindness, gentleness, and thoughtfulness.
The fruits of living every day for Christ. The very things his mother had spent 
her life trying to teach them. And it was happening because he was completely 
focused on helping the one person who seemed to have his act together, the 
person he'd assumed would never need him at all.
His brother, Dayne.
The house was coming along, no question, but they had just two weeks left.
Kari was watching Ashley's kids so Ashley and Landon- when he wasn't 
working-could spend every spare minute working at the house. Luke and Reagan had 
driven to Indianapolis and brought back a U-Haul truck full of windows and 
doors. Brooke's husband, Peter, and Jim Flanigan had experience in
294 
construction, so they had taken time off work to put in the windows and hang the 
doors. Stunning granite counters, tile flooring, and custom walnut cabinets had 
been installed in the kitchen, and the bathrooms had been renovated. The new 
appliances wouldn't be delivered until the Friday before Thanksgiving. None of 
them had any idea how they'd have time to get them in place before Thanksgiving, 
but they kept working.
Luke positioned a nail, raised his hammer, and drove it into place. The roof was 
beautiful. Once it was inspected, it had only a few sections that had needed 
replacing. A few more nails and that part of Luke's job would be done.
Luke examined the property. They still needed a few heavy- duty workdays, lots 
of muscle, half a dozen pickup trucks, and a landscaping crew. So far the 
weather had cooperated. It was the sixth of November. The temperature had 
dropped, but the sky was clear. The problem was that everyone was busy. Ryan's 
football team had games every weekend and school during the week. The CKT kids 
were between weekend performances for Cinderella. And everyone they knew had 
their own holiday plans to pull together.
Ashley wasn't panicking, but she was close. Part of every day's progress was a 
morning prayer time. Whoever was available, whoever could make it out to the 
house would meet with her in the backyard, form a circle, and pray. One thing 
they'd been praying for had already happened.
Dayne and Katy had committed to coming.
Provided his doctor signed off-and at this point that looked likely-the two of 
them would be here for Thanksgiving. The question was whether they would stay. 
Ashley had told Luke everything, so he knew how badly his comments had hurt 
Dayne. He knew too that if his brother sensed tension or conflict or that he was 
causing any trouble for the Baxters, he would bolt.
And that would be that.
Luke swung his hammer again. There would be no trouble.
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Luke would see to it. The one thing Ashley was keeping secret was the progress 
on the house. She'd been intentionally vague with Katy, telling her that she was 
making calls and trying to schedule workers since the contractors were too busy 
before springtime.
The last time they talked, Katy even told Ashley she wasn't sure it mattered. 
They might hold on to the house for a year and sell it.
Luke reached for another nail. That wouldn't happen. Not after they saw what was 
waiting for them in Bloomington.
The day disappeared in a haze of sanding and prepping the exterior walls of the 
house. They were made of rough-hewn logs, but no one had treated them in 
decades.
At five o'clock Luke saw his dad, Ryan, and Landon pull up. They each wore tool 
belts with hammers and pliers, and between them they had two buckets of nails.
"Where do we start?" John looked past Luke to the side of the house. "Every log 
needs to be checked, right?"
"Right." Luke led the way, and as they worked along one side of the house, a 
stream of vehicles began driving up. A few had ladders sticking out the back.
"I forgot to tell you." Ryan grinned at them. "The football team wanted to put 
in a few hours."
Thirty-seven guys piled out of the cars and vans, each of them carrying a 
hammer. They carried a total of five more ladders, and by the time nightfall 
came, the entire exterior had been sanded and nailed back into place. The next 
step would be painting it with a heavy stain and sealing it. Then it would look 
brand-new.
As the days wore on, Luke could sense something big happening. The family was 
coming together as quickly and beautifully as the house.
"You know what it feels like?" Ashley asked him one day.
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"What?" They were unloading a pile of fresh-cut boards, the ones they would use 
to rebuild the deck and out back.
Ashley stopped and wiped her dusty work gloves over her forehead. "It feels like 
Mom's here. Like this-all of what we're doing here-is our way of showing her 
that her legacy lives on." She had a smear of dirt on her cheek. "You know?"
"Yeah." Luke felt his heart swell a little more. "I definitely feel her here."
With every passing hour there seemed to be another piece of good news. Erin 
arrived a week early and set up at their dad's house. She proclaimed herself 
full-time day-care operator, taking on all the kids so her siblings and their 
spouses could work on the renovation.
Brooke and two of her friends painted most of the inside. Ryan and a few of his 
coaching buddies built an outdoor island with a built-in barbecue and cabinets. 
More items crossed off the list.
Finally they received word from Katy. Dayne was officially finished with rehab 
and had been given permission to travel. The paparazzi would be hot for pictures 
of the new and improved Dayne Matthews, so he would give them what they wanted. 
He would stage a press conference midweek and make himself available for 
interviews over the next few days. After that he and Katy would travel by 
private jet to Bloomington on Saturday-five days before Thanksgiving.
One night the family had dinner at their dad's house, and Luke watched his 
father break down during the blessing. "Thank You, God. After the accident . . 
." His voice gave out. He waited a few moments. "Lord, we know how great You 
are, but even we are stunned by the gift You've given Dayne." He wiped at his 
eyes. "The gift You've given us."
With the knowledge of a time and date, everything about the project kicked into 
high gear. They had a hard-and-fast goal now. Get the house done by Saturday 
morning. At first they
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almost gave way to panic. There was still so much more to do: trim and staining 
and ceilings and cleaning up. But an unearthly peace settled over the entire 
group and their work. Luke felt it and so did Ashley and their dad. If God could 
heal Dayne, He could bring together the pieces of this remodel.
Luke worked with growing excitement. He could hardly wait to see Dayne, to see 
the look in his brother's eyes when he realized just how much they really did 
love him. Everything would come together-the house, their relationships, the 
entire family.
Even if they needed every single hour between now and Saturday to make it 
happen.
Ashley was torn about how to use her time. It was closing weekend for 
Cinderella, and with the renovation needing her efforts, Rhonda and Bethany had 
filled in and worked with the kids for the performances. Ashley had seen the 
show opening night with her sisters and their families. Luke and their dad kept 
working on the house, sanding and painting ceilings throughout the upstairs. 
They'd rented floodlights so they could work inside or outside as late as they 
needed to.
Now it was Saturday morning, a week before Dayne and Katy's arrival, and Ashley 
wished she could see the last performance that evening at five. The problem was, 
today had been set aside for removal of debris. They had some of Ryan's football 
players lined up and all the Baxters working on the project, but still they 
needed more help.
Jenny Flanigan had called last night and expressed her frustration. "Bailey has 
two dozen CKT kids ready to help. If only this weren't the last night of the 
show."
"It's okay. Tell the kids I wish I were there." Ashley checked her watch. She 
was always checking her watch these days. "I have to run. Maybe you can stop by 
this week sometime."
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Ashley arrived at the house at seven, just as Luke and het ( and Ryan were 
pulling in. Each of them was driving a pi( 1.1 The local dump was open until 
five, and the goal was to 11,11 away every piece of debris before then. Ashley 
opened her .11, door and grabbed her checklist off the dashboard. There \\ ( 
still eighteen items unfinished. Clearing away the trash was ()11, of them.
The guys walked by, and Luke smiled at her. "Ready for a I )1,., day?"
"Definitely." Ashley watched them, but her father didn't iui around. "Dad?"
"Oh?" He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. It honey."
Excitement stirred her sleepy soul. She had a surprise for het dad, something he 
wouldn't find out until later today. The ide,t had come to her a few days ago 
after she'd spent time talking and praying with Landon. God had taught her 
something important There was no time for angry feelings, no room for grudges or 
bit - terness or unresolved issues. Luke had learned that and so had Reagan. 
Katy had figured that out when it came to the paparazzi and so had Dayne.
Love required sacrifice-all the way around. Ashley could hardly wait to see her 
dad's face when he learned of his surprise. He was waiting for her, and she 
smiled at him. "You doing okay?"
"Sure." His answer was quick, but he looked tired. "Fine."
The guys moved on, and the work party began. During the next hour, four more men 
came, doctors from Peter's office. Two of them drove pickups. The group 
descended on the old, broken- down porch and deck across the back of the house. 
One board at a time, they ripped out the old wood and hauled it to one of the 
trucks, careful not to damage the new barbecue and island adjacent to the deck. 
When a truck would fill up, someone would leave and take the load to the dump. 
Much of the wood was
299 
biodegradable, so it would go in a special section, where it would eventually be 
sold off as mulch.
Ashley was dragging rickety patio furniture to one of the trucks when she heard 
the noise. She stopped and looked up, and it took a moment for her to comprehend 
what she was seeing. When she understood, she had to blink back tears. A stream 
of CKT kids and their parents began pulling into the nearby field. Ashley lost 
count at fifteen cars.
Some of them pulled trailers, and as they unloaded their gear, Ashley saw three 
riding mowers. Before she could make her way over, the dads of three kids in 
Cinderella hopped on the machines and began a methodical mowing of the property.
Tim Reed and Bailey walked up together. "We couldn't stay away." Tim had a rake 
in his hands. "Katy deserves this."
"What . . . what about your show?" Ashley's head was spinning. More cars were 
pulling in. There had to be fifty people working fast and hard on clearing the 
land.
"It doesn't start till five." Bailey smiled. She looked comfortable at Tim's 
side, but Jenny had said that her daughter was struggling over a broken 
relationship and that she and Tim Reed were friends, nothing more.
When the craziness of the house project was finished, Ashley wanted to catch up 
with how the show had brought everyone closer. The way CKT shows always did. 
Maybe she would have a chance to catch up with Bailey too.
Tim pulled a pair of work gloves from his back pocket and slipped them on. "As 
long as we leave by two-thirty, we'll be fine." He grinned at her and raised the 
rake. "We have work to do."
In the distance, Ashley saw the Flanigans pull up; then one of the men asked 
everyone to move their cars back onto the road. The clearing was happening that 
fast. Ashley could barely remember to breathe as she watched the group. Women 
carried potted shrubs from their vans, and kids pulled weeds from around the 
front porch area.
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"It's happening, Ash." Luke's face was smeared with grime, and his clothes were 
filthy. But his eyes shone brighter than the sun. "This is why Bloomington's 
such a great place."
"Yep, you're right about that." Ashley drew a long breath and stretched her 
back. Then she and Luke worked together to clear away the patio furniture. The 
whole time she was thinking about what Luke said. How Bloomington was such a 
great place to live. It was true, and she was forever grateful that Landon had 
been willing to leave New York City to fight fires here in their hometown.
Bloomington was about raising kids and church potlucks and drawing close as one 
season rolled into the next. It was about faith and family and building a future 
together. And it was what Dayne and Katy were going to love most about living 
here.
Even if they didn't know it yet.
John was watching his grandchildren clear out the flower beds around the front 
porch. He wasn't tired; he was simply missing Elizabeth. The buildup of 
excitement over the house project was unlike anything his family had ever been a 
part of.
Elizabeth should've been here. She would've overseen the roses, making sure the 
right colors and mixes were planted along the front of the house and in special 
areas accenting the backyard. She had been brilliant at homemaking, and this 
would've been her finest hour-putting together a home for the child she had 
spent a lifetime missing.
"Papa, can we build a fishpond here in the front yard?" Cole's pile of weeds was 
bigger than any pile made by the other GRAND KIDS.
"Someday, Coley. I think Dayne and Katy would like that a
lot."
Tommy was helping, but his attention span was brief. John
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watched him wander a few feet away, aim his finger at a patch of nothingness, 
and make a loud shooting sound. "Ha!" he cried.
"Whatcha doing, Tommy?" John walked over and directed the child back to the 
group.
"Tommy shoot dinosaurs." He looked over his shoulder and took careful aim again. 
Once more he made the shooting sound. "Tommy shoot bees."
"Whew, thank you." John smiled to himself. Reagan and Luke had been working with 
Tommy, convincing him that it was never nice to shoot people. The training 
seemed to be working. "We don't want any bees or dinosaurs hurting us while we 
work."
"Tommy shoot tigers, too."
John was about to express his gratitude once more when a familiar car pulled 
into the drive. He took a few steps in that direction. It was his friend Elaine. 
The two of them hadn't seen each other since the talk they'd had on the porch 
swing weeks ago. When she'd asked him why they never talked about their 
relationship.
He'd had time to think her question over. Two lonely months, to be exact.
But why would she come now in the middle of the work party? And what about 
Ashley and the others? The last thing they needed was hurt feelings or tension 
on a day when everything and everyone was coming together. He watched Elaine 
climb out of the car. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt. In her hand were yellow 
work gloves and a box of what looked like gardening tools.
As she came closer, her eyes met his and held. She stopped a few feet from him 
and smiled. "Where do you want me?"
"Elaine . . ." He looked back at the kids, but Cole was busy pointing out areas 
they'd missed, assigning various weeds to specific children. John faced his 
friend once more. Never mind that his grown kids might be watching. He set down 
his shovel and closed the distance between them. Then he hugged her for a
302 
long while. When he let go, he let himself get lost in her eyes. "I missed you."
Her smile was shy, not in the least bit suggestive. "I missed you too." She took 
a long breath. "Maybe you don't know what you want, John. I think I'm okay with 
that. Life's too short to walk away from a friend, and that's what I did." She 
paused. "Can you forgive me?"
"Of course."
"Well then." She set her box of tools on the porch and grinned at him. "Looks 
like we've got some work to do."
He was still baffled. "How did you know we'd be here?" "Simple." Her smile was 
filled with meaning. "Ashley called me."
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T HE PROJECT came together just before midnight.
By then, all that was left was the cleaning. Otherwise, every item on Ashley's 
ten-page list had been crossed off. The finished house was stunning, better than 
anything any of them had dreamed. Thankfully Katy had been too busy with Dayne 
to ask many questions about it. Ashley had worked with Dayne's agent, getting 
the okay from him anytime they needed more funds. In that way they'd managed to 
keep the entire renovation a surprise.
The yard looked like something from a magazine cover. It was green and lush and 
neatly mowed. Big maple trees had been planted along the driveway, their leaves 
already decked out in brilliant reds and yellows. Bark dust had been spread 
along t he perimeter of the property, and in the front flower beds I Jaitic and 
several other woman had planted rosebushes and tulip bulbs that would come up 
right around the time of Katy and Dayne's wedding.
Maybe the most dramatic change was the log siding-which
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looked brand-new-and the improvements to the backyard. The new wooden deck was 
stained and cleaned, and the view from it was breathtaking. It was twice the 
size of the old one, large enough for big gatherings and barbecues overlooking 
Lake Monroe.
The inside of the house looked like a different place altogether. Brooke had 
picked warm colors for the painted rooms, and Kari had taken care to have wooden 
blinds hung over every new window. The appliances had arrived on schedule and 
were installed in the modernized kitchen. The ceiling beams were stained and 
looked warm against the earthy tile and taupe- colored carpeting, which had been 
laid by a local contractor who got wind of the project. It was the one piece 
Ashley had fretted about, but by Friday night the installation was completed and 
the carpet freshly vacuumed.
The final touches were made yesterday. Ashley had hung one of her paintings in 
the living room. It was the one that showed the back of a man standing in the 
foreground, looking at the Baxter house all warm and lit up and in the middle of 
a field that seemed to go on for miles. It was the one she'd painted when her 
older brother had been only some unknown guy out there, someone who was afraid 
to make contact with them. Now that she knew him, there was no question the man 
in the painting was Dayne Matthews. How could it not be him?
She'd patterned the man in her painting after Luke.
The painting wasn't the only personal touch that happened at the end. While 
watching the kids, Erin had framed some family pictures-Elizabeth and John at 
different stages of their marriage and collages of the Baxter kids and GRAND 
KIDS through the years. When the cleaning was finished late last night, Ashley 
and her sisters had worked together distributing the photographs, placing them 
around the kitchen counter and hanging them on the walls throughout the house.
The project reminded Ashley of dear, sweet Irvel, the woman
305 
she had cared for at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home. Irvel wasn't really at peace 
until Ashley found old pictures of her husband, Hank. Once the framed photos 
hung on Irvel's walls, everything about her countenance had changed.
When Dayne saw the family pictures in every room, Ashley hoped the change in him 
would be the same. She could hardly wait.
When they finished, Ashley and her sisters and Luke and their father formed a 
spontaneous group hug, and for a few minutes the tears came for all of them. 
Tears because God had brought together every piece and because they had actually 
finished. Tears because their mother would've cherished this moment maybe more 
than any of them. Most of all tears because together they had become greater 
than the sum of the individual parts.
"Look what we can do when love pulls us together." Ashley sniffed. She glanced 
at Luke. "Can you believe it?"
None of them could. They were worn-out by the time they left.
Now it was Saturday morning, just ten hours later, and they were back again, 
anxious and excited and ready to give God the glory for what had taken place on 
this piece of ground.
Word of mouth spread through their various circles, and this morning everyone 
who had helped with the renovation was invited. Dayne and Katy would arrive 
around one o'clock, but the people came at eleven. They brought cards and gifts 
and flowers, and together they filled the dining-room table with the outpouring 
of their love.
By noon, her dad asked everyone to gather outside.
It took a few minutes for the crowd to make their way out back for an informal 
worship service. Everyone held hands and formed an enormous circle. Ashley 
looked from one face to the next, and there was nothing she could do to stop her 
tears. It was like a snapshot of every season of her life, everything that had
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ever mattered. She smiled at them as she made eye contact. Kart and Brooke and 
Erin and Luke and their spouses and children. The Flanigans with their six kids 
and a couple dozen other CICI kids and their parents. Ashley grinned at Jenny 
Flanigan, then let her gaze move on around the circle.
Her father was there, of course, and next to him his friend Elaine. Ashley no 
longer felt threatened by her. God had used Landon to help her see that her dad 
deserved a friend. And if somewhere down the road that friend became something 
more, the Lord would meet them in that place. For now it was enough that there 
were no hard feelings, none whatsoever.
Around the circle were Brooke and Peter's doctor friends, coaches from Clear 
Creek High, and a crew of carpet layers from downtown Bloomington. There were 
Rhonda and Bethany and the lady who ran the art gallery near the university. 
She'd contributed a frame for Ashley's painting, and she wanted to be part of 
the surprise.
Ashley didn't mind. The more people who could welcome Katy and Dayne, the 
better.
Her father raised his hand, and the group quieted. "God has met us in this 
place." His voice was strong, steady. The way they would always see their 
father, no matter how the coming years might take their toll. "Now we are 
privileged to give Him thanks."
Her father prayed, loud and clear. There would be time for tears later, but this 
moment was marked by smiles and gratitude and a satisfaction that ran deeper 
than any of them had ever known.
After the prayer, Tim Reed took his guitar from its case and led them in a few 
songs. He ended with "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." From the tough football 
players to the educated doctors to little Hayley holding Brooke's hand, they 
raised their voices to the clear blue skies as the song came to an end. " 'All I 
have needed Thy hand hath provided-great is Thy faithfulness, Lord. unto me!-
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Ashley savored the moment. As long as she lived she would remember how it felt 
to see nearly a hundred people circled her brother's backyard, their hearts 
joined as one as they gave praise to the Creator, their Father. Savior of all.
Then her dad talked about love. By then he had given all of his children except 
Dayne the letter from their mother-the one with the secrets to a happy marriage. 
"A long time ago, my wife, Elizabeth, wrote down what she believed were the 
secrets to love." He smiled. Next to him, Elaine didn't falter even for a 
moment. "When we think of love, we think of marriage. But the truth is, the 
secret to love works for all of us, whatever relationship we're in."
Ashley saw Bailey look down and lean in closer to her mother.
He went through a few of the points, talking about time, love, laughter, and 
forgiveness. Lessons they'd learned that fall. But he focused most of all on the 
first point-the one that Ashley wouldn't have thought much about before taking 
on this project. Her mother's wisdom was this:
God had them here to serve one another. Love, acted out, is serving.
It was a truth they had played out in every possible way leading up to this 
moment. Which was why, as the service came to an end, Ashley was convinced that 
after today Dayne would finally know that he was loved by his family, both now 
and forever.
Now all they had to do was wait.
308 I 
309
THE MUSCLES in Dayne's stomach tightened as he and Katy neared the Bloomington 
airport. A part of him wanted to stay on the plane and beg the pilot to take 
them back to Los Angeles. The whole thing felt like the final scene in a movie, 
the kind so heartrending, so gut-wrenching, that the sadness takes the wind out 
of people and afterwards they sit in the dark theater watching the credits 
because they don't want anyone to see their tears.
Bloomington lay spread out below as the plane circled low. The university and 
downtown area, the neighborhoods and sprawling farmlands. The lake.
The flight attendant approached them. "We'll be on the ground in a few minutes. 
Can I get you anything before we land?" Katy shook her head. "We're fine, 
thanks."
"Very well." She smiled. "Let me know if you need anything.' She returned to the 
back of the plane.
Next to him, Dayne felt Katy reach over and take his hand. "It'll be okay," she 
whispered.
Dayne didn't answer, but he ran his thumb against her hand.
310 
drawing strength from her touch. He looked out the window. Every other time he'd 
arrived in Bloomington it had been with a sense of hope and belonging, a feeling 
that this town, with its rolling green hills and lakeside picnics and close-knit 
people, was where he would spend forever if he had a chance. Not anymore. This 
time he saw it as a place he was letting go, a dream that never quite found a 
way to work itself out.
Dayne turned to Katy and searched her eyes. "I need you. Have I told you that 
today?"
She smiled. "You're worrying about nothing."
Since they were alone in the cabin, he leaned in and kissed her, the slow, 
sensual sort of kiss they could only take in small doses. At least until after 
the wedding. Then, with a lingering look at her, he turned back to the window.
A few years ago he'd starred in a movie based on a best-selling novel. The 
author showed up on the set during filming, and she and Dayne had shared several 
fascinating conversations. The whole writing process was beyond his 
understanding-how a person could sit at a computer, start typing, and create a 
story as long and complex as a novel.
"Do you ever struggle?" he asked her. "Is there a time when you try to write and 
the words won't come?"
Her eyes grew distant. "At the end of a book." A hint of sorrow colored her 
smile. "When it's a story I really love, one I've poured my heart and soul into, 
I'll sit down to write the last chapter and for a long time I'll just stare at 
the empty screen. Because deep inside me I don't really want it to end."
That's how Dayne felt now.
He sighed, and Katy leaned her head on his shoulder. That he was even here, with 
her by his side, was more than he could fully fathom, more than he could get his 
mind around. By God's mercy alone, Dayne had cut his recovery time in half and 
come out stronger in the end.
"Listen, man," the therapist had told him on their last day,
311 
when Dayne checked out of the facility, "you're the toughest person I know. I 
mean that. I've never seen anyone work so hard."
Dayne thanked the guy, but the therapist was wrong. Katy had worked harder than 
he had. Katy-his friend, his future, his love. He rested his head on hers. She 
had always believed they would reach this moment. She'd put her own life on hold 
and had believed with every breath that he would wake up. Even when conventional 
wisdom said it was time to let go. She pushed him and encouraged him, no matter 
his mood or frustration. And when he closed her out entirely, she found a way to 
bring down the walls.
He loved her with his whole life, and nothing could change that. No matter what 
happened over the next few days.
The plane landed, then came to a stop. Lately he'd been reading the Gospels. He 
discovered that even with faith the size of a mustard seed, it was possible to 
say to a mountain, "Move," and the mountain would move. It had been that way 
with his pursuit of Katy, and certainly it had been that way with his recovery 
from near death. Though his faith was sometimes less than anything he could see 
or feel, for the past few months mountains had crumbled to the ground.
But not this mountain.
Coming to Bloomington for Thanksgiving, proving to Katy that his presence really 
was too much of a disruption for his family, was only his way of keeping a 
promise. Otherwise he would've avoided the heartache and stayed in Malibu-the 
place where he and Katy would most likely live once they were married, at least 
until he was finished with his current movie contract. Then maybe they'd find 
something along the West Coast-Oregon perhaps. Some small town like Medford, 
where they could raise a family and be close enough to Hollywood for Dayne to be 
involved in an occasional picture.
A black Pathfinder SUV from a local rental company was 
312 
waiting for them as they exited the plane. Once their bags were loaded in the 
back, Dayne took the wheel. When Katy was buckled in beside him he started the 
engine and was about to slip the car into gear when he stopped. He turned to 
her. "Tell me again. Why are we going by our house first?"
"Dayne-" her eyes filled with a gentle patience-"you're doing it again."
"What?" He pretended to be in the dark.
"Worrying." She put her hand on his knee and gave him a crooked grin. 
"Everything's going to be fine. I know it." "Okay, you're right."
It was hard to hear over the sound of jet engines coming from a commuter plane 
forty yards away. She leaned closer, surprised. "I am?"
"Yes. You got me." He covered her hand with his. "I am worried." He searched her 
soul. "About you." He put the vehicle in gear and drove through the parking lot 
and onto the main road.
"Me?" She turned her back to the door so she could see him better.
"Yes." They were coming up on a red light. He waited until they were at a 
complete stop. They'd been trying hard to keep the mood light. But there were no 
lighthearted words for what he was about to say. He felt the teasing leave his 
eyes. "I'm worried you'll never forgive me if it doesn't work out. If this is 
the last time we do this."
For an instant, a ripple of fear passed over her face. But immediately she found 
her confidence again. Her unrelenting, limitless joy. "It's not the last." She 
looked straight ahead as the light turned green. -It's only the beginning."
"What if it's not?"
She smiled at him, her brows slightly raised. "Please. You promised."
She was right. As his rehab had progressed he promised not only to go to 
Bloomington if his therapist gave him clearance but
313 
to believe one more time that it was possible-that Inkling a place in the Baxter 
family really might work. Only here was t lie problem: the more he believed, the 
greater he would hurt when he felt Luke's coolness, sensed the resentment in his 
other siblings for the embarrassment they'd suffered merely by being related to 
him.
Still, Katy was right. He glanced at her. "I did, didn't I?" "Yes." She faced 
the windshield. "God hasn't brought you this far only to have you lose it all."
They drove in silence. But when they were a few minutes from the house, Dayne 
remembered his original question. "You didn't answer me."
"About what?"
"The lake house. Why do we have to go there first?"
"Oh, that." Katy folded her arms and studied him. "I guess because it's on the 
way." She shrugged. "Ashley said it worked better for her schedule. She wants to 
point out the places the contractor thought needed the most work."
The knots in his stomach were tighter than before. But it wasn't fair to Katy to 
let them show. Not when she seemed so optimistic about what lay ahead. "That 
shouldn't take long. The whole place needs work. She can pretty much wave her 
hand in the general direction of the house and that should cover it."
"True. But we owe it to Ashley to meet her here. She's put in a lot of time 
making phone calls." She hesitated. "Even if nothing's actually finished yet."
Dayne was about to say something about that, about whether Ashley would be 
willing to oversee the process of remodeling once he returned to LA. But he 
stopped himself. He'd rained enough on Katy's parade for one day. Time would 
show them what lay ahead, even if once in a while he had to close his eyes to 
bear it.
"We're almost there.- Katy put on lip gloss and checked her look in the mirror. 
"It'll be good to see Ashley again."
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Dayne tried not to feel cut to the heart by her blithe comment. Later that week, 
when things didn't work out and they said their final good-byes, he would miss 
Ashley and John most of all. Ashley was the one who had fought for his place in 
their family, the one who had called him on her own that day. He kept his eyes 
on the road; the house was just ahead.
They saw cars and trucks as they rounded the final bend. In front of the lake 
house, along the road, and in a nearby field were thirty or so vehicles.
"What in the world?" Katy leaned forward and looked at the surrounding fields.
Dayne felt the same way. That many cars meant that many people. And where was 
the run-down old lake house?
He was about to pass the driveway of a stunning new home when he brought the 
vehicle to a screeching stop. "Wait."
Katy was staring at the place. "No way. There's no possible way."
Magically and completely, their lake house had been transformed. Dayne pulled 
into the drive and stopped again. The grass and shrubs, the landscaping and 
trees. None of it had been there before.
"How did she do it?" The color drained from Katy's face. She sounded as if she 
didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Ashley said the subcontractors were booked 
until spring."
"I can't believe it." Dayne drove slowly up the driveway. "It isn't just the 
yard." He nodded to the house. "Look at that." "It's gorgeous."
The outside of the house looked brand-new. If Dayne wasn't sure of the location, 
he would never have believed it was the same building. When he reached the 
house, he parked and looked at Katy. "You knew about this."
"No!" She laughed. "Ashley told me she couldn't get a single person out here to 
start working. I had absolutely no idea." Dayne studied the place, the planted 
gardens and refurbished
315 
front porch, the stained logs and the striking windows.it obviously found the 
best in the business. It looks amazing."
They climbed out of the car, and Katy came around to his side. As he took her 
hand, he remembered the vehicles parked along the road. One of them had to 
belong to Ashley, since she planned to meet them here. But what about the rest? 
The house was too quiet to have that many people inside.
They reached the side of the house and followed it around to the backyard. From 
every angle the home was breathtaking, and Dayne felt overwhelmed. How kind of 
Ashley to see that the work got done. It must've taken hours to call builders 
and keep searching until she could find the right people. He chuckled. "Ashley 
never gives up, does she?"
Katy smiled. She couldn't take her eyes off the house. "No. Not since I've known 
her."
They kept walking, the lake spread out before them like a glistening blanket of 
blue. Then, in what felt like slow motion, the backyard came into view and with 
it a sea of people, all of them grinning.
"Welcome home!" A chorus of voices broke the silence. And then all at once, a 
round of hoots and cheers and laughter burst from the group.
Dayne and Katy stopped and leaned on each other so they wouldn't fall flat on 
their backs from the shock.
Ashley pulled away from the crowd and ran up to them. She hugged Dayne first and 
then Katy, and by the time she drew back they could both see she had tears on 
her cheeks. "Well . . . what do you think?"
The pieces spun like fragments in Dayne's mind. It was like a scene from a 
reality TV show, only this was so far beyond reality he could hardly breathe. In 
as much time as it took him to blink, he surveyed the people, made a note of the 
faces around them. The Baxters were front and center, their kids bouncing up and 
down around them. To one side were the Flanigans along with
316 bunches of CKT kids and their families. On the other side were football 
players with Clear Creek High emblazoned on their jerseys and beyond them a 
dozen people he didn't recognize. Before Dayne's world could right itself, Luke 
stepped up. He stared at Dayne, his eyes bright with something like regret. He 
kept his voice low, between the two of them. "Can we talk later,
Dayne nodded. This was the most difficult part: facing Luke.
never . . ." He coughed and looked down for a moment. When he lifted his gaze, 
his sincerity came straight from the center of his heart. "I never meant any of 
it. I'm sorry, Dayne." Dayne felt flooded by love for his brother. Was this what 
he'd been dreading? Was it really happening? He put his hand on
The onlookers were still hooting and shouting and celebrating the surprise. 
Dayne looked at the back of the house before he met Ashley's eyes and tried to 
recover enough to speak. "You . . . you had all these people come just to 
welcome us?"
"They all-" Ashley's voice cut out, clrowned by the noise of
Dayne saw Landon in the background, but he seemed willing
Ashley came to Dayne again, hugged him, and held on tight. "I thought we'd lost 
ycm . . but look at you. Like it never happened." She let go and turned her 
attention to Katy. "It's a
"Definitely." Katy to Ashley's hand. The others were still loud, still 
celebrating. They moved in closer, making a half circle around them. Katy looked 
as baffled as he felt. "It's beautiful, Ash. I thought you couldn't get subs out 
until spring."
More tears filled Ashley's eyes. "I couldn't." She massaged her throat. Then she 
made a wide sweeping gesture toward the
FOREVER
id their families. .ar Creek High e L dozen people h could right
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bright with so 'een the two of I vas the most diffi
a his pockets. " and looked ow ncerity came stn It any of it. 'm s love for his
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still hooting and looked at the ac ie to recover en come ust to w ; voice cut 
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the ackgrounc t.
Le again, hugged cm but loo] In turned her a
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just us?"
Luke put his hands in his pockets.I
" said those words. But I
Luke's shoulder. "We'll talk later."
the crowd.
to give her this moment.
miracle."
crowd of people.
317 
Luke, still close by, gave Dayne a humble, crooked ,,m11( "What she's trying to 
say is, we did the work." I le'ititIed toward the group. "All of us."
"What?" After a few heartbeats, Katy gasped. "You mean . .
"Yes." Ashley was crying openly now. "Everyone helped. Peter and Jim hung doors 
and replaced windows and Brooke painted and Luke worked on the roof and the 
football team sanded and stained the exterior and-" she laughed and tried to 
breathe at the same time-"Erin watched the kids and the CKT kids cleaned up the 
yard and Dad and Elaine helped the kids plant bushes and. . . I don't know. . . 
just come in and see it."
Dayne felt his heart bursting. The realization of what had happened was hitting 
him slowly, like a dream. He searched Ashley's teary eyes. "Why? Why would you 
do this?"
"Because . . . you're a Baxter." She wiped her cheeks. "That's what we do."
And there it was. . . the answer he'd been waiting for. Waiting for and 
dreading.
He stared at Ashley and tried to believe that she had really said the words 
You're a Baxter. That's what we do. With every grueling hour of rehab, every 
weight he struggled to lift, and every afternoon perfecting the once-ordinary 
skills of writing and eating and brushing his teeth, he had feared this moment. 
Going to Bloomington for Thanksgiving meant that for the first time in his life 
he would be with his entire birth family. No matter what he had promised Katy, 
he knew-he just knew-he would feel like an outcast, the one upsetting the 
balance for the rest of them. Every night when he lay in bed at the rehab center 
he had feared this reunion, dreaded it with his whole heart, because this would 
be the moment of reckoning.
The time for good-byes.
But maybe. . just maybe he was wrong.
He stared at the ground and closed his eyes. God, You knew this all along.
318 
My son, My precious son. . . welcome home!
The words echoed loudly in his heart. He opened his eyes and there was John. 
Suddenly Dayne wasn't sure if the response had come from God or from the man 
standing before him.
"We prayed for this moment." John's eyes were watery too. He wrapped Dayne in a 
hearty embrace; then he stepped back and put his hand on Dayne's shoulder. 
"Welcome home, Son."
That was the breaking point. Tears fell from Dayne's eyes, and he put his arm 
around his father's shoulders. "Let's go see the place." The biggest smile he'd 
had in a long time filled his face, and he hoped with every heartbeat that this 
wasn't a dream.
Katy walked beside him as they headed, with the crowd, to the back door. She 
slipped her arm around his waist, and that's when he noticed that she was crying 
too. She stopped for a moment, rose on her toes, and whispered near his ear, 
"Told you so."
Dayne wasn't sure whether to laugh or break down. He gave her a quick kiss and 
held her eyes, hoping she could read all that he couldn't find the words to say.
Then they made their way inside. It was as spectacular as the outside. As they 
reached the dining-room table, Dayne and Katy stopped at the same time.
"What's . . . ?" Katy put one hand over her mouth and pointed with the other.
The entire table was filled with cards and flowers and gifts to welcome Dayne to 
Bloomington. But it wasn't until they turned as a group and went into the 
oversize kitchen, where the Baxters were, that Dayne realized how fully, how 
completely his prayers and questions about today had been answered.
"Dayne." Ashley squeezed her way in beside them. She had a young woman with her 
who looked familiar. Ashley's cheeks were still tearstained, but she glowed from 
the inside out. She motioned to the woman beside her. "This is Erin, our 
youngest sister."
Dayne smiled at Erin, and the last bit of his awkwardness
319 
faded entirely. He hugged her. "Hi, Erin." He took Katy's hand "This is my 
fiancee, Katy."
"Hi, Erin." Two more tears slid down Katy's cheeks. She sniffed and laughed at 
the same time. "I can't wait to meet the rest of your family."
Erin seemed shyer than the others. She pointed at something behind him. "I 
framed those for you. But everyone helped put them around the house."
Dayne and Katy turned and there on the counters were framed photographs of the 
Baxter family. The crowd of people stayed outside for the most part; only the 
Baxters were inside now.
Cole rushed around the counter and began describing each picture. "This one's 
Grandma and Papa before Grandma went to heaven." Then he moved on to the next 
one. "This is me and little Devin and Mommy and Daddy. Here's Aunt Erin and 
Uncle Sam and the girls, and Aunt Brookie and Uncle Peter and . ." The 
explanation went on for several minutes. But the last frame in the line was 
empty. -You forgot one, Aunt Erin," Cole announced, reaching for the empty 
frame.
A pretty young woman stepped forward. She had an Asian baby in one arm and a 
mischievous-looking little boy by the hand. "It's okay, Coley." She smiled at 
Ashley's son. "You can leave that one there." Then she turned her little group 
toward Dayne and Katy. "That one's for you and Luke." She motioned to Luke and 
he joined her, putting his arm around her and the baby.
Luke's eyes were damp. "Dayne, I'd like you to meet my wife, Reagan, and our 
kids, Malin and Tommy."
"Nice to meet you." Dayne's heart pounded. If Luke could say what he'd said in 
the tabloids, Dayne figured his wife felt the same way. But now he could see 
that he was wrong. As wrong as could be.
He could live ten thousand years and never forget one detail
320 
about this surprise, the house and the yard and the people and most of all the 
family. He was touched by this moment, changed by it.
Even in the midst of introductions, Dayne realized what was happening. He and 
Katy were home-the place where he'd always wanted to be, with the people he'd 
long dreamed about knowing. They were survivors, all of them, and he could see 
life clearly now for the first time since his accident.
This was only the beginning.
Luke turned to his wife. "Honey, I'd like you to meet Katy Hart, Dayne's 
fiancee."
The two women shook hands and exchanged hellos. Luke hesitated. He hung his head 
and gave it a single shake. Briefly he touched his fingertips to his eyes. Then 
he lifted his head and looked at Dayne. "I've wanted to say this for a long 
time."
Dayne blinked twice, clearing the tears so he could make out Luke's face.
"Reagan-" Luke looked from his wife back to Dayne-"I'd like you to meet my 
brother."
Around the room, no one said a word. No one could. Dayne took Reagan's hand, but 
in the same moment, he turned to Luke and everything about the past faded. Dayne 
made the first move, and they came together in the kind of intense hug usually 
reserved for teammates in the moments after winning a championship. They stayed 
that way a long time, clinging to each other and all they'd almost lost.
And standing there in the kitchen of a house that would soon be home, there was 
an overwhelming sense that instead of losing everything they had defied the 
odds. Because in the end they had both won. And now Dayne and Luke had what 
neither of them had ever had before.
A brother.
321 
THIRTY-TWO
THE TURKEY was in the oven, and the Baxter house was alive with the love and 
laughter and quiet conversations that Ashley looked forward to around the 
holidays. She was coming back from the garage with another pound of butter, but 
halfway to the kitchen she ducked into the living room and marveled. All twelve 
cousins were together, which meant sometime before the day was over Kari would 
line them up near the fireplace for the annual cousin photo. It was tradition.
Ashley stayed in her spot, unnoticed by the kids. Their laughter and the 
football game playing on TV and the smell of turkey wafting into every room were 
what Thanksgiving was supposed to be. That and their dad's prayer. Each year it 
was a specific praise time to their God and Savior and a chance for their father 
to ask a blessing for each of his kids present.
This year that would be all his kids.
The scene before Ashley was so alive it would be almost impossible to paint. But 
someday she'd like to try. Cole and Maddie were sitting at a card table her dad 
had put in the room
322 
for the older kids. They were trying to start a game of Yahtzee, but they seemed 
to be involved in a lengthy discussion about who would go first.
Cole was easily the loudest. "I go first 'cause I won last time." His tone of 
voice left no room for discussion.
"No! That's not how." Maddie was quick with her retort. "Girls go first. That's 
the rules."
Cole stood up and crossed his arms. "The rules don't say that, Maddie, because I 
read them. You're just trying to be the boss of me."
"No, I'm not." Her tone rose to a whine. With exaggerated movements, she put her 
hands on her hips. "Girls go first in Yahtzee. Otherwise girls don't play."
"That's not fair! You said you'd play, and now we have the papers out and we put 
our names on 'ern, and that means no one else could use 'em later, so I'll just 
go first so we can move on."
Ashley stifled a giggle and rolled her eyes at the same time. Cole might have a 
future as a salesman, but he definitely needed help on his approach. Rudeness 
wasn't tolerated. She would talk to him about it later.
Malin was out of her playpen, darting about the room on her hands and knees and 
generally causing an uproar wherever she went. Erin's girls-Clarisse, Chloe, 
Heidi Jo, and Amy-were playing dolls on the floor with Kari's daughter, Jessie, 
and Brooke's Hayley. Erin's daughters were making an effort at being polite, but 
they kept sending the baby bits of instruction. "Stay out of here, Malin." "Go 
over there, Malin." "Don't touch our dollies, Malin."
Hayley's voice lifted above the others. "Hi, Mali!" She was talking much better, 
so improved that someone who didn't know she'd been in a near-drowning accident 
might think she just spoke a little slower than other children. Her tone was 
happy and earnest. "Mali . . . play with my dolly. Come on."
Malin crawled to Hayley and sat next to her new friend. At the
323 
same time, Jessie broke into a song about sunshine and 1.n bows. A few words 
into it she stood up and faced the otlicr Ilie song wasn't quite in tune, but it 
was happy and fitting Im Thanksgiving.
Tommy was rolling a ball to RJ, which was what Karl and Ryan had started calling 
their son, who until then had been Ryan Junior. The little boys were a living 
example of testosterone in action. With every push of the ball, either Tommy or 
RJ would make a loud grunting sound, followed by a proclamation. "Catch it" or 
"Mine!"
Malin noticed the action and crawled, lightning fast, toward the two boys.
As she did, Tommy spotted her. He lowered his chin and glared at her. "No, 
Mali."
Reagan had asked if they would all help Tommy break his fascination with guns. 
"If you see him raise his finger toward someone, remind him that whatever we do, 
we don't shoot people."
Ashley wondered if this might be one of those moments.
Sure enough, as Malin came closer, Tommy slowly, methodically, raised his finger 
at her.
He was about to pull the imaginary trigger when Ashley stepped into the room and 
put her hand on his shoulder. "Tommy . . . we don't shoot people."
He jerked his hand so that now the trigger was facing the ceiling. Then he made 
a shooting sound and cast dancing eyes in her direction. "Tommy shoot bees." He 
followed up the announcement with a big grin.
Ashley was pretty certain he hadn't been aiming for the bees. But the idea that 
he knew right from wrong was a step, anyway. She praised him and headed back to 
her sisters and Reagan and Katy in the kitchen. The potatoes were peeled, cut in 
pieces, and on the stove. A dozen pies had been made the night before, and the 
Jell-O salads were in the refrigerator.
They had a few hours before dinner, time for coffee and catching
324 up. Ashley had something she wanted to share with them. She had invited 
Elaine Denning for dessert. So far she and Elaine hadn't spoken much, hadn't 
developed a friendship or a connection yet. Ashley had simply decided to make 
her feel welcome. She was their father's friend, and friends were we to come for 
dessert. The way her mom had always made theni feel welcome.
The Flanigans were coming for dessert this year and with them Tim Reed. Elaine 
would feel comfortable, especially if peo- pie made a point of talking to her. 
Ashley was trying to answer God's call to love and let go of bitterness the way 
Katy and Dayne and Luke had let go of it these past few 'weeks. Her father 
didn't need her approval. Besides, he was entitled to a friend. It was
When Ashley reached the kitchen, the women were discuss- ing Aunt Teresa, their 
dad's younger sister from Battle Creek, Michigan. She was in Indianapolis 
visiting one of her kids for dinner, so she might stop by for an hour tonight. 
"I love Aunt Teresa." Kari giggled and looked at the others around the room. She 
stopped at Brooke. "Remember the time she and Dad and Mom were playing some card 
game and she
"Laughed so hard she developed chest pains. Everyone thought she was having a 
heart attack, so Dad took her to the emergency room." Brooke looked at Katy and 
Reagan, the only two who hadn't heard the story-though Ashley and Erin were
"Right, so there she is in the ER explaining how she was play- ing cards and 
laughing, and the doctor presses on her chest, asks
Brooke put her hand over her heart. "Most people don't know you have a muscle 
right here. If you laugh hard enough, you can FOREVER
g she wanted to for dessert. So f2- we
a riench led to make het Friends were welc ways
made then too.
coming for des, you'd feel comfc .in to her.
Ashl
go of bitterness t these past few [des, he was ent
d the kitchen, tl- dad younger si ndianalis visn )13 by for an ou Kari giggled i 
lopped at Brook were playing
sc
she developed ; a heart attack, Ike looked at Ka he story-thoug it.
; in the ER
expl and the doctor p
e was giggling n over her heart. here. If you aug
So that was tradition too.
that simple.
started laughing?"
too young to remember it.
her if it hurts there."
Everyone in the circle was giggling now.
actually pull it."
325 
"Really?" Katy laughed harder.
"It's true." Ashley was standing next to Katy. "I wouldn t believe it if I 
hadn't heard this story so many times."
"So the doctor tells Aunt Teresa she'll probably be the laughingstock of 
everyone back home, because she isn't having a heart attack. She just pulled her 
laughing muscle."
"The rest of her visit, if things got a little too silly, she'd go for a walk 
and tell everyone she needed to rest her laughing muscle."
"Yeah, and later on Dad asked her how come her laughing muscle was out of shape 
in the first place."
The six of them standing around the kitchen continued to laugh, and Ashley 
savored the sound. Whatever the future held, for now it was only important to be 
there together-all of them, including Dayne.
Because togetherness was the greatest tradition of all.
Thanksgiving dinner was about to begin, and Dayne was trying to memorize every 
moment.
He and Luke had talked outside on the front porch for an hour, and the outcome 
was better than anything Dayne could've imagined. What Dayne learned from Luke 
was surprising- nothing like what he had been worried about. Luke wanted a 
brother in the worst way; he always had. But at first everything had conspired 
to make him feel jealous instead of joyous. Now that those issues were resolved, 
Dayne couldn't wait for the future to unfold before them.
They had also talked about Dayne's offer of a law position in Indianapolis. 
"It's what I'd like-" Dayne felt more comfortable with every passing bit of 
conversation-"if you're interested."
"Interested?" Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "It's a dream 
come true."
326 
All of it was really. Everything about today. He and Katy had sat on the floor 
with the kids for nearly an hour, getting to know his nieces and nephews. He and 
the guys had watched some football together. They were a remarkable family, the 
Baxters.
As they gathered around the table, Dayne was drawn back to a scene almost two 
and a half years earlier. He was in Bloomington for the first time, parked in 
the hospital parking lot trying to get up the nerve to go in and see his birth 
mother before she died. And out of the hospital came a group of people. One of 
the guys looked familiar, and Dayne realized he was watching Luke Baxter and his 
siblings. Dayne's siblings.
In that moment he wanted more than anything to jump out of the car and run to 
them, tell them he'd always wondered about them, and ask them a hundred 
questions. But the click of the paparazzi cameras kept him from making a move. 
Even when he felt physically ill watching them climb in their cars and drive 
away, Dayne knew his decision was for the best.
And now God had brought them together.
After some humorous commotion between Tommy and RJ, everyone was seated around 
two long dining tables.
Taking the spot next to Dayne, Katy grinned and leaned closer. "Told you so." 
She met his eyes, and he saw his future there. And the teasing glow she'd had 
all week whenever she reminded him that she had been right and he had definitely 
been wrong about the Baxters.
John sat at the head of the table, looking around the room. "We are so blessed 
to be together." His gaze settled on Dayne. "All of us."
Luke and Reagan whispered something, and Luke stood up. "I have an 
announcement."
Dayne leaned back in his chair and took Katy's hand. Luke had been fairly 
low-key until now. But the Baxters weren't formal. Whatever Luke had to say, 
sharing it now seemed like a good idea. Despite all Dayne's fears, these people 
had a way of
327 
making him feel everything he'd wanted to feel in a I ani I \ , and belonging 
and friendship and common ground. And iii was in one week together. He could 
only imagine what it felt 111,, to be a part of them all his life.
Luke grinned at the faces around the table. "Reagan wants Inc to tell you-" he 
flashed a smile at her-"that yesterday I ic ceived news that I passed the bar 
exam. Also . . ." He glanced at Dayne and his smile faded. "I received an offer 
to represent Dayne exclusively from my firm's office in Indianapolis." He 
exchanged a look with Reagan. "We'll make the move after Christmas." He found 
Dayne again. "Thanks to my brother."
There was a round of congratulations, and then John began praying. "Dear God, we 
come before You with humble, grateful hearts. You have led us through many paths 
and valleys to get to this moment, but we're here. Together in one place, our 
hearts in unison as we look to You."
He prayed then for Brooke and her family and the continued healing of little 
Hayley; for Karl and Ryan and their children, that they would be blessed in 
their involvement in ministry at church; for Erin and Sam and their four girls, 
that adjustment would continue as their family came together. He prayed for 
Ashley and Landon and their boys and for Luke and Reagan and Tommy and Malin.
"Give Luke the strength to stay close to You daily, Lord. Help him be the father 
and husband . . and brother he's always wanted to be."
Then he prayed for Dayne. "Father, Elizabeth and I have our lost son back, 
something that never could've happened without You. We have him back from the 
accident, of course, but we have him back from a place where we never expected 
to find him again. I pray that You let him know how much we love him and Katy, 
how much we're looking forward to a lifetime of days like this."
Suddenly the sum of moments overwhelmed Dayne, surrounding him and making him 
certain, once again, that this was
328 
the moment, the single instant that God had spent the last few years calling him 
toward. All of it-his trip to Bloomington, the chance moment of witnessing Katy 
Hart onstage, his decision to let go of his anger toward his adoptive parents, 
and his near involvement in Kabbalah. And not just those times, but his empty 
days with Kelly Parker and the pain that followed the abortion, even the 
terrible situations with the paparazzi-God had used all of it to lead him here.
The words Katy had heard from the Lord during his time in rehab came rushing 
back: Wait on the Lord. Be still, and know that I am God.
He gently tightened his hold on Katy's hand. God was a promise keeper. That much 
was evident even yesterday, when Randi Wells called and told him she'd bought a 
Bible. How amazing was that? He smiled, his eyes still closed.
His fame would always be an issue, an aspect of his life, but he was forgiven, 
and now that he had found his place in the family he longed for, he couldn't 
wait to start working on forever. Because now that his questions had been 
answered, now that the lake house was completed, it was time to start on the 
next project.
Planning a wedding.
329 
DEAR READER FRIENDS,
I have a confession to make.
I'm the author Dayne Matthews was talking about, the one he met on the set of 
one of his movies. I figured I could give myself a cameo appearance after so 
many books with these characters. My husband thinks I'm a little too close to 
the whole situation, and we both laugh about how the Baxter family and Dayne and 
Katy and the Flanigans feel like friends.
But it's also the truth-writer's block comes for me only when I procrastinate at 
the very end of a book I love. It was that way for the Firstborn series. I 
remember writing Fame and thinking how fun it would be following Dayne Matthews 
and the struggles he faced as a major celebrity. And now, his story is in many 
ways resolved. That made the final chapters of this book especially sad and 
difficult for me.
From the beginning, from the first time Dayne Matthews was introduced as the 
Baxters' oldest son, I've dreamed about this day-when the entire Baxter family 
could be together, knowing that they were committed to accepting Dayne as one of 
their own. And I can only say that God certainly met me at every turn in the 
road. Always, with each installment of the Firstborn series, there was a message 
that applied to all of us. For a season, I wasn't sure what God wanted us to 
take away from the story in Forevei.
But I see it now.
The lesson is one God gives us throughout the Bible. Love one another. Love 
through forgiveness and love through service. Keep short accounts and don't let 
a bitter root grow. If we're going to love the way Jesus wants us to love, then 
we need to let go of the hurts from our past and let God bring about healing. In 
many ways, Forever was about healing. Dayne was healed from
330 
his horrific accident, and Katy was healed of her fear of leaving Bloomington. 
Luke was healed of his jealousy and bitterness toward Dayne, and Ashley was 
healed of her distrust toward her father's friend Elaine. Healing took place 
between many people, in many ways.
Which is exactly what God wants to see in our lives.
It's at the end of any story that we must all ask how it applies to us, what we 
can take away from it. So what about you? Are you struggling with a broken 
relationship? The Bible says, "As far as it depends on you, live at peace with 
everyone." Is God calling you to make a phone call or write a letter? Is He 
asking you to offer an apology or extend forgiveness? We can't begin to think 
about forever without ridding ourselves and our lives of the baggage of 
bitterness and broken relationships.
At the same time, there are situations in which the other person is unwilling to 
receive an apology or forgiveness. That's how it is with a situation in my life. 
A long time ago I had a friend whose laughter and love for God helped me in the 
early days of my walk with Christ. Honestly, I'm not sure how things went south 
between us, but they did. All attempts I've made toward reconciliation-e-mails, 
phone calls, gifts-have been met with silence and a painfully locked door.
So what do we do in this situation?
For me, I've had to let go. I continue to pray and believe God that all things 
work for the good of those who love Him. I've gently placed this relationship 
into the hands of our Father, and I continue to give the struggle to God 
whenever the pain returns, whenever the memories push me to want to pick up the 
phone and call her.
Through writing Forever, God taught me what He taught Katy and Dayne. We are 
always better to be patient and still, waiting on God. I'll be trying to live 
that way in regards to my lost friend until my dying day. Praying, hoping, 
believing, letting go, and waiting.
I pray you'll do the same if you're struggling with a broken
331 
relationship that feels unfixable. Because most times, the pc( )1,1( in our 
lives will listen and they will respond. In that case, a, at as it depends on 
you, live at peace with everyone. Love the \\ \ God loves. The rest is up to 
Him.
So, yes, this final piece of the Firstborn series was special ((Arne. But don't 
worry. There are still many dilemmas facing Katy and Dayne. They have a wedding 
to plan and the possibility ol Katy starring in a movie with her man. Any of you 
who read the covers of tabloids know the difficulties of a celebrity marriage. 
Those challenges will be explored, as will the many situations facing the 
Flanigans and the Baxters.
By now you know the story that began with the Redemption series and spun into 
the Firstborn series isn't coming to an end. Not yet, anyway. There are still 
many trials and triumphs ahead for John Baxter and his family, for Katy Hart and 
Dayne Matthews, and for the Flanigan family.
My next Baxter book will be Sunrise, the first in the Sunrise series. After 
Sunrise will come Summer, Someday, and Sunset. It's hard to imagine letting go 
of these characters after that. So I won't think about it yet. Not when there 
are still so many pages to write, so many hills and valleys to explore together.
As I write the Sunrise series, please continue to pray that God will give me 
story lines that He'll use in your lives and the lives of all who read these 
books. That He would be glorified, that lives would be changed-that's what 
matters. If this book helped you understand Jesus better, or if you want to know 
how you could have a relationship with Him, please contact a Bible-believing 
church in your area. Get involved in a Sunday school class or a weekly Bible 
study. There are so many options, and with the Internet, it's very quick and 
easy to do a check of local churches.
The Christian life is a day-by-day relationship with Christ. Day by day and 
minute by minute. If you haven't found that lifesaving relationship, there is no 
time like now to begin. A reader recently wrote and told me that she was 
fascinated by Jesus and 
332 
NIH111410
FOREVER
interested in following Him. But she wondered if maybe it was too late for her. 
Hopefully the story of Katy and Dayne has shown you that it is never, ever too 
late to take the hand of Jesus and be
the greatest walk of all.
As always, stop by my new Web site at www.Karen- Kingsbury.com and see what's 
coming up or use it as a place to connect with other readers and book clubs. You 
can leave prayer requests or take on the responsibility of praying for people. 
Peo- ple often tell me they haven't found a purpose or meaning to their faith. 
Maybe they're on the go a lot or their circumstances keep them homebound. 
Remember, prayer is a very important minis- try. It was prayer that turned 
things around for Dayne and Luke, prayer that made the difference time and again 
in this series. Your prayers-either in the midst of a busy day or as the main 
focus of a homebound one-could be crucial in the life of someone else, someone 
God wants you to pray for. Visit the prayer link on my Web site and make a 
commitment to pray for the hundreds of hurting people who have left requests 
there.
My family is doing well, about to begin a second year of home- schooling 
together. It's a wonderful adventure full of laughter and precious memories. 
Kelsey is a high school junior, talking about colleges. Austin, nine, rarely 
wakes up in the middle of the night wanting to climb in the middle between 
Donald and me. Yes, I can feel the days moving too fast, and there's nothing I 
can do to slow the ride. But I am enjoying every minute all the same, trying to 
remember the lessons from Forever-love one another through forgiveness and 
service. Always and forever.
1-hanks so much for sharing in this journey, the journey of the Baxter family. I 
pray that God is using the power of story to touch and change your life, the way 
He uses it in mine.
Until next time, blessings in His amazing light and grace
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333 Discussion Questions
Use these questions for individual reflection or for discussion with a book club 
or other small group.
1.Why do you think our culture is fascinated by celebrity? How has this 
fascination affected you personally?
What are the dangers of being so caught up in the lives of celebrities? Have you 
seen this cause a problem for you or someone you know?
2.What messages are indirectly being given to young people from the celebrities 
written about in gossip magazines?
What was the Baxter family's immediate response to Dayne's accident? What were 
the risks of John and Ashley's trip to Los Angeles?
Tell of a time when your family showed you great support in a time of need. What 
do you believe motivated them? How did that support affect you?
What was Katy's response to the accident? As Dayne's coma continued, what did 
Katy's actions say about her faith?
Talk about Luke's struggles with Dayne before the accident. What did you think 
of Luke's attitude in the early part of the story?
What do you think motivated Ashley to get Dayne and Katy's lake house fixed up? 
How has Ashley grown through this series and the last?
Have you ever undertaken a project-a party, a task, etc.- as a labor of love? 
Explain the project. What were the results of it?
1.Why do you think Elaine left John's house frustrated that day? Do you have a 
relationship that seems to be on hold? Explain and discuss what you believe is 
holding that relationship back.
4.Katy found strength in the Bible verse, "Be still, and know
334 
that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). What do you think this verse means? How does it 
apply to your life?
12.What happened to the people in Bloomington as they began to pull together and 
help the Baxters with the lake house? Have you seen a project bring people 
together? Explain.
13.List three things wrong with Luke and Reagan's marriage and discuss. Do you 
know people who struggle with these issues?
How important was communication to Luke and Reagan? How important is it in your 
relationships? Give examples.
12.Dayne found strength in this Bible verse: "We know that in all things God 
works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his 
purpose" (Romans 8:28). What did this mean to Dayne? What does it mean to you?
Discuss the timing of Dayne waking up from his coma. Tell about a time when it 
seemed as though God waited until the last minute to answer your prayers. Why do 
you think He sometimes has us wait?
What was Dayne's reaction when he read the magazine with the quotes from Luke 
Baxter? Tell about a time when someone you love hurt you for reasons you didn't 
understand.
15.How did Dayne express his hurt and anger? How do you express your hurt and 
anger? How does God want us to handle these feelings?
12.Why was it so important to Luke that he take part in the renovation of the 
lake house? Describe a time when you were able to do something for someone else. 
How did it make you feel?
17.Explain why Dayne was dreading the Thanksgiving visit to Bloomington. What 
were the best moments of his home coming? Describe a homecoming that was special 
to you.
335 Turn the page for an exciting preview of
SUNRISE
The first book in the
SUNRISE SERIES
by Karen Kingsbury
Available summer 2007
www.tyndalefiction.com
336 
337 From
SUNRISE
by Karen Kingsbury
CHAPTER ONE
A WINTRY WIND blew across Bloomington the day after Thanksgiving, and it 
reminded Katy Hart that the seasons had changed. Not just in the air around town 
but in her life as well. For the first time since she'd known him, Dayne 
Matthews wasn't going back home.
He was home.
The walk around Lake Monroe was Dayne's idea, returning to the place where their 
hearts first connected, the place where they could always find their own world 
no matter what paparazzi or media circus waited for them on the other side of 
the wooded path.
They wore sweaters and jeans and held hands, their pace slow and easy. The shock 
of the events of the past week wasn't wearing off, but it was sinking in. For 
the first time in his life, Dayne had a family waiting for him around the 
corner, people he could visit after Sunday church services or invite over for a 
barbecue. Sisters and a brother and a father who would welcome him and listen to 
him and laugh with him. People who saw him not as Dayne Matthews, Hollywood 
star, but as Dayne, the missing member of the Baxter family.
338 Katy breathed deepand looked up through the barren branches to the bright 
blue sky beyond. "We aren't dreaming Dayne chuckled. His arm brushed against her 
shoulder
they walked. "I keep asking myself the same thing." He tight ened his hold on 
her hand. "I thought we'd be on a plane back t o
"I know." He laughed again. "You told me so."
A burst of wind swept in along the path, and Katy moved closer to him. He was 
warm and strong, and the hint of cologne mixed with the smell of distant burning 
leaves. The feel of him against her filled her senses. Even in the darkest of 
days, when Dayne's accident looked as if it would kill him or leave him 
permanently injured, Katy always believed that somehow,
When Dayne woke up from his coma, when God's miraculous powers became 
brilliantly obvious in Dayne's recovery, his doc- tor and therapist had never 
thought for a minute that today-the day after Thanksgiving-he would be ))Tell 
enough to be walking
Dayne released her hand and put his arm around her shoul"Yes."
He stopped and faced her. "Every room." He worked his fingers along the sides of 
her neck and up into her hair. "You can pick out what you want, and we can have 
a designer do the rest." He grinned. "As long as it's ready before the wedding." 
Katy felt suddenly light-headed. This was the part of being engaged to Dayne 
that she rarely thought about. The lifestyle change. She would go from her 
apartment above the garage at the Flanigan house to a beautiful estate on a 
bluff overlooking Lake Monroe. Whatever furniture, whatever bedding and linens
SUNRISE
1 and looked blue sky
beyon
s arm brushed kin
myself th d. " thought IA to say it."
d again. "You to pt in along the warm and strc smell of distant I her senses. 
Ev( looked as if it
Katy always vin
up here.
p from his coma tly
obvious in ID ver
thought for -he would be »,
land and put hi lopping."
rid faced her. "E es of her neck a want, and we ca ong
as it's read) tght-head. Th she rarely the from her apart a beautiful
estat r furniture, 
right?"
LA this morning."
Katy smiled. "I hate to say it."
someway, they would wind up here.
around Lake Monroe. But here they were.
ders. "We need to go shopping." "For the house?"
339 
and dishes and entertainment systems she wanted would I ), hers. The thought was 
overwhelming, more than she could prehend. Not that she would change because of 
it. Her tau-, would remain simple; she was sure of that.
"The house could stay empty for all I care." She eased het arms around his 
waist. "All I need is you."
"And you." He came closer, his breath warm on her face. He cradled her head with 
both hands. Smoldering desire filled his tone. Slowly, with a restraint that 
didn't show in his face, he kissed her. Then he pulled back enough to see her 
eyes. "You and a big bed with down comforters and satin sheets-" he kissed her 
again, longer this time-"and a dozen pillows."
"Dayne . . ." It was all she could do to stay standing.
"Mmm." He swayed with her, dancing to the sound of an occasional passing goose 
and the whisper of the breeze around them. He pressed his face lightly against 
hers. "Maybe we should change the wedding date."
Her mind was dizzy with the nearness of him. "Oh yeah?" "Mmm-hmm." His lips met 
hers. "Let's get married this afternoon."
Her body reacted to his, and she almost told him yes. But she kissed him 
instead. Long and slow, a kiss that told him he wasn't the only one looking 
forward to the honeymoon, dreaming about every day that followed. She could feel 
him trembling. How easy it would be to get into trouble between now and then. 
She ran her hands up the small of his back. "We have to be so careful."
He moved in closer to her and kissed her. When he pulled back, his breathing had 
changed. "Very . . . very careful." His eyes were smoky, filled with passion and 
a longing that was more about love than lust. He moved a strand of her hair and 
looked deep into her eyes. When he spoke again, there was control in his tone 
once more. "And we will be careful." He smiled. "The wedding's going to be 
beautiful, Katy."
She couldn't concentrate, not this close to Dayne. She put her
340 
hands on his shoulders and tried to steady the weakness in her arms and legs. A 
cool wind blew through the space between them. "I was sort of looking forward to 
your other idea."
"The courthouse this afternoon?"
"Exactly."
He laughed. "I love you." He kissed her again, but this time he was the one who 
stepped back. "This-" he gave her a pointed look and exhaled hard-"will have to 
happen in small doses."
Katy laughed and fell into place beside him. For a while it was all they could 
do to keep walking. She ached to kiss him again, to stay lost in his arms and 
embrace for an hour. But Dayne was right. They'd made a promise to God and to 
each other to wait until they were married-a promise that was bound to be more 
difficult for Dayne, whose past had robbed him of the innocence Katy still 
cherished. In her private moments with God, she had vowed not to tempt Dayne. 
For that reason, their tender intimate moments needed to be brief.
"So . ." Dayne raised his brows. His expression told her that he was still 
cooling off. "About the wedding. . ."
She smiled and turned her gaze toward the water. "The real one?"
"Right." He slipped his arm around her shoulders. Their strides were casual and 
in perfect unison.
"You really think we can keep the media away if we have it at the country club?"
"I'd like to try."
She'd been thinking about the logistics. They wanted a beautiful, traditional 
ceremony without the chaos of circling helicopters and paparazzi jumping out of 
the bushes. Especially since a few of them had nearly cost Dayne his life.
Even so, Katy had no idea how they were going to keep the wedding a secret. She 
looked at him. "I guess I can't get past the impossibility of it."
"I've got someone working on it." His voice was deep, sooth340
341 
ing. "I guess the rule of thumb is fifty people. Invite fifty or less, and the 
press usually doesn't find out. Invite more and . . ." He shrugged. "I guess 
it's just about unheard of."
"Fifty?" Katy winced. "CKT alone has more than twice that." She wanted her 
ailing parents from Chicago and the Flanigans and the Baxters and everyone 
involved with her Christian Kids Theater group. And there were a few dozen 
Hollywood friends and business associates Dayne hoped to invite.
"I know. We need to plan on a few hundred." He narrowed his eyes and glanced at 
the path ahead of them. "That's why we need to talk." He stopped and drew a long 
breath. "I have an idea that just might work."
Katy looked into his eyes and her heart soared. Dayne wasn't willing to settle 
in any way, not when it came to her. "Tell me." "Okay. Here's what I was 
thinking. . . ."
John Baxter didn't usually jump into Christmas shopping the day after 
Thanksgiving. But Elaine had suggested the idea. Now it was early Friday 
morning, and he was waiting for her to pick him up so they could drive to the 
biggest mall in Indianapolis. Elaine told him the trip could take most of the 
day. They had fifteen GRAND KIDS between them to shop for.
John wandered into the living room and looked out the front window. She would be 
here any minute. Elaine Denning was never late. He leaned against the sill and 
thought about last night.
Her visit with him and his kids over pumpkin pie marked the first time he'd 
included her around any of them. The outcome was dramatically better than he'd 
ever hoped. The entire family had accepted Elaine with warmth and grace, making 
conversation with her and helping smooth over any awkward moments-like the time 
Maddie walked up, took Elaine's hand, and said, "Are you Papa's girlfriend?"
342 
Rather than looks of shock or disapproval, everyone chuckled and Ashley walked 
up to her niece. "Yes, Maddie." She smiled at Elaine. "She's Papa's friend and 
she's a girl. So that makes her a girlfriend." She cast an unthreatened smile at 
him and Elaine.
"See." Maddie looked at Cole, satisfied. "I thought so."
As his granddaughter walked off, John looked at Ashley, awed. The animosity she 
had always expressed about Elaine seemed to have been totally replaced with 
warmth and acceptance. Her hospitality toward Elaine had been one more way the 
Baxters' Thanksgiving was marked by God's presence.
Other than Maddie's innocent remark, the topic of Elaine and him hadn't come up 
again. Everyone was busy connecting with Dayne and Katy and the Flanigans, who 
had also joined them for dessert. Elaine's presence felt normal and natural, and 
John believed they'd found a new level of friendship because of it.
Late last night, when she was ready to leave, he walked her to her car. Their 
conversation replayed in his mind.
"I felt welcome tonight, John." Elaine had seemed careful to keep some distance 
between them.
John pulled his jacket tighter around himself and looked at the half-moon 
hanging over the Baxter house. "I guess they're ready for me to have friends."
Her expression changed but only slightly. She smiled. "I'm ready for that too."
"Good." He reached out and gave her hand a single squeeze. They'd avoided each 
other for two months, because John was determined to give Elaine the space she 
seemed to want. If she was looking for more than friendship, he was the wrong 
man. He wasn't ready to love again, and he had a strong sense he might never be.
The memory dissolved just as her car pulled into the drive. A slight thrill 
passed through him. He was looking forward to the day more than he'd expected. 
Elaine made him laugh with her
343 KARENKINGSfillP,,
subtle sense of humor. Spending a day with her would I out of the house, away 
from the memories of a 'demi', Thanksgivings past.
He took a last look at the house before he stepped ou Kid( This was the day each 
year when Elizabeth would haul out lbw Christmas decorations and turn the Baxter 
house into a wonde land of red and green.
Since her death, the banister had gone without garland, the mantel without pine 
branches and lights, and three decades of decorations had stayed in boxes. And 
this had been one of the hardest days of all. Last year he spent most of it 
sitting in his recliner, the one next to her rocker, looking through photo 
albums of smiles and laughter and loving moments lost forever to yesterday.
Not today. He turned and closed the door behind him. As he did, he left behind 
the trace of a cologne he hadn't worn in years. Today he would find another kind 
of smiles and laughter, shopping and joking and enjoying time with a woman he 
couldn't wait to spend the day with-Elaine Denning.
His friend.
Someone was knocking at the door, but Bailey Flanigan could barely open her 
eyes.
"Bailey . . . get up. Come on!" The voice was Connor's.
"Please . . ." She groaned and turned over. "Let me sleep."
She had stayed up late Thanksgiving night, going over audition songs with Connor 
and texting Tim Reed. It was three in the morning when she turned off the lights 
and finally fell asleep.
The door opened and Connor leaned in. "Bryan Smythe's here. I'm serious, Bailey. 
You have to see this."
Bryan Smythe? Bailey sat up. It took only a few seconds before
344 
her body responded. She jumped up and ran into her bathroom. "What in the 
world?" She looked over her shoulder at her brother. "Why's he here?"
Connor grinned. "You need to see for yourself."
"Ugh. I can't go down looking like this." She ran her fingers through her hair 
and splashed cold water on her face. The mirror told her she still looked half 
asleep.
"It doesn't matter." Connor's tone was almost frantic. "He's waiting. Come on."
She darted into her closet, water still dripping from her face, pulled off the 
T-shirt and flannel leggings she'd been sleeping in, and slipped into a 
sweatshirt and the first pair of jeans she could find. Ever since she and Tanner 
Williams broke up, her social life had been one extreme or the other. She could 
come home from school five days straight without so much as a single call or 
text.
On those days, Cody Coleman, the senior football player who lived with them, 
would pat her on the shoulder and smile at her like she was a child. "Don't 
worry, Bailey. They'll be lined up one day."
Her attraction to Cody had cooled a lot since he moved in with them. He dated a 
different girl every few weeks, and he treated Bailey like she was thirteen 
instead of sixteen. Sometimes she couldn't wait for next year, when he'd leave 
for college and they could be finished with him.
Bailey pulled her hair back in a ponytail and hurried out her bedroom door after 
Connor. The text messages from Tim the day before ran through her head. Do you 
ever think about thefuture, Bailey?. . . How things might wind up? She had kept 
her answers short. Tim Reed was rarely in such a pensive mood, and she wanted to 
know what he was thinking. A few texts later he wrote, Let's go to the park 
Friday. You and I need to catch up.
So what was this with Bryan? She rounded the corner and headed down the hallway. 
Sure, he'd acted interested a few months ago. But he'd been out of the picture 
for a while now. Ru344
345 
mors around CKT had him seeing someone at his high sthi But then why was he here 
this morning?
She made it to the entryway and there, standing just inside front door, was 
Bryan. He held an enormous bouquet of roses red and yellow and white. A small 
note card was tucked in ilear the middle.
Bailey gasped softly and looked from the flowers to Bryan. "What . . . what's 
going on?"
He shrugged. "I finally had a morning to myself." He took a step toward her and 
held out the bouquet. As he handed them to her he grinned. "I might not call 
every day, Bailey. But I'm thinking about you." He hesitated; then he moved back 
toward the door. "I wanted you to know."
She wasn't sure what to do next. "For no reason?" She lifted the flowers close 
and smelled them. "You brought me roses for no reason."
His eyes answered her question before he did. In them she could see a confidence 
and determination directed entirely at her. "You're reason enough." He gave her 
one last smile and raised his hand. "Bye, Bailey. See you around."
Then, before she could hug him or thank him or get any more information than 
that, he turned and jogged down her walkway.
She went to the door, stepped outside, and raised her voice so he could hear 
her. "Thanks, Bryan. They're beautiful."
He waved and flashed a grin that said he enjoyed this, being mysterious and 
unexpected and beyond romantic. He was in his car and back down their driveway 
before she could catch her breath. What was he up to? And why this morning? She 
pulled the card from the bouquet and opened it.
White because I will always treasure your innocence, yellow because we were 
friends before anything else. .. and red for all that I hope lies ahead.
Always,
Bryan
346 
Chills passed down her neck and spine. "Okay, Bryan," she whispered as she 
smelled the flowers again. "Could you be any more amazing?"
She was heading back inside, still trying to make sense of it, when from the far 
left side of the house she heard her mother scream.
"Mom?" Bailey set the flowers down and raced toward the sound. At the same time, 
she heard her father and the boys running behind her.
They arrived at the guest-room door at the same time, and Bailey covered her 
mouth. Her mother was kneeling on the floor, her eyes wide and scared. "Call 
911. Hurry. He's barely breathing."
Connor jumped into action, racing past their mom and grabbing the phone.
Her dad rushed into the room and knelt. "Does he have a pulse?"
"Barely."
Her dad looked like he was going to cry. He moved in closer. "How could he?"
"Pray, Jim." Tears spilled onto her mother's face. She looked at the rest of 
them. "Pray!"
"Is he . . . ?" Bailey couldn't finish her sentence. She stayed frozen near the 
doorway.
Cody Coleman was sprawled on his back, his face and arms gray. The entire room 
was filled with a pungent smell. That's when Bailey spotted it. Only then did 
she have a clue what had happened. Lying next to Cody was a bottle of 
liquor-hard liquor.
The bottle lay on its side, and from what Bailey could see it was no longer 
full.
It was completely empty.
347 The Best-Selling REDEMPTION SERIES by Karen Kingsbury and Gary Smalley
Novelist Karen Kingsbury and relationship expert Gary Smalley team up to bring 
you the Redemption series, which explores the relationship principles Gary has 
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particular, the Baxters. In the crucible of their tragedies and triumphs, the 
Baxter family learns about commitment, forgiveness, faith, and the redeeming 
hand of God.
ETURN
story of tenacious love and longing for a lost son
REJOICE
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ZEUNION
story of God's grace and redemption,
His victory even in the most difficult times.
ZEDEMPTION
story of love at all costs
REMEMBER
a journey from tragedy to healing
348 1 
349 The
Best-Selling
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Catch up with your favorite Baxter characters from the best-selling Reilc 
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heart is pulling him toward a woman and a family who have no lc.i I c their 
lives are tied to his. Katy Hart, the director of Christian Kids 1 hutici, 
finally feels content and at home in Bloomington, Indiana. But that change,. 
when she meets Dayne Matthews and he promises a future she left in hei past. 
Meanwhile, John Baxter struggles to fulfill a promise he made to hi,. dying 
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never spoke of.
germe
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351 
352 FOREVER FAITHFUL SERIES Waiting for Morning A Moment of Weakness Halfway to 
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WOMEN OF FAITH FICTION SERIES A Time to Dance A Time to Embrace
STAND-ALONE TITLES A Thousand Tomorrows Oceans Apart Where Yesterday Lives When 
Joy Came to Stay On Every Side Even Now Divine Like Dandelion Dust
CHILDREN'S TITLE Let Me Hold You Longer
MIRACLE COLLECTIONS
A Treasury of Christmas Miracles A Treasury of Miracles for Women A Treasury of 
Miracles for Teens A Treasury of Miracles for Friends A Treasury of Adoption 
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GIFT BOOKS Stay Close Little Girl Be Safe Little Boy
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