Fourteen
USUALLY ASHLEY AND LANDON WOULD HAVE THE BAXTER FAMily over for dinner on a Sunday. But tonight — in honor of her older brother Dayne’s first premiere as a producer — they were meeting on Saturday. Attending the event were Dayne and his family, and Ashley’s other brother Luke and his wife, Reagan — along with their three kids Tommy, Malin, and their adopted infant son, Jonathan. The group of them would have a blast, no doubt.
But for everyone else, it made more sense to stay in Bloomington and celebrate here. Cole had baseball games over the weekend, and Landon was still trying to adjust his asthma medication. Her sisters — Kari and Erin and Brooke — all had kids in sports or other school activities this weekend. Besides, they had planned an all-Baxter movie night next Friday here in town, once Luke and Dayne and their families returned to Indiana.
Ashley checked on the two deep dishes of chicken in the oven. She’d made her mother’s favorite tonight: frozen chicken breasts covered in cream of mushroom and cream of chicken soups combined. Mixed with the chicken juices, the meal always came out perfectly. Brown rice was cooking in the rice maker, and broccoli simmered on the stove. Two pans of it.
In the other room, she could hear Landon reading to the kids, and she held onto the moment. The week had been full of times like this, when she would catch herself lost in a scene from her own life and hold onto it like never before. She understood what was behind her recent nostalgia. They’d met with Landon’s doctor a few days ago, and the news was enough to paralyze Ashley with fear. Even here in the kitchen minutes before a family dinner, it was only by God’s grace that she was able to carry on in light of the new possibilities.
She stood at the kitchen sink and stared out the window at her mother’s rose garden. “I miss you, Mom … if you were here, you could tell me that it’s all going to be okay.”
Her voice was a whisper, a wish. As if by speaking the words out loud she could somehow connect to the memory of her mother. But even if her mother were here she wouldn’t have assured Ashley that everything was okay. Her mother wouldn’t have died of cancer four years ago if that were true. This was the world … and like her father had told them often, in the world they would have trouble.
Landon’s asthma attack the day he went running — three weeks ago now — was nearly a fatal one. Certainly not normal for someone with his physical health and conditioning, someone who had never struggled with asthma in the past. For that reason, the day of the attack, her father had directed them to a pulmonary specialist. The doctor had prescribed an inhaler and oral steroids as a first line of defense. But he had also ordered tests, the results of which they’d gotten a few days ago.
The conversation in the doctor’s office came to life again, and Ashley gripped the kitchen counter, her eyes closed. “I’m afraid what we’re finding isn’t good.” The physician was from India, kind and serious with a slight accent. “Landon, you show initial signs of polymyositis.”
He went on to explain that the lung disease was something being found in rescue workers who spent lengthy time at Ground Zero.
“Okay … so, what do I do next? I mean, let’s start treatment.” Landon remained upbeat, confident. Tackling this news the way he would any other obstacle.
Ashley watched him, amazed. Landon had always been this way—strong and stoic, certain about what he wanted, and how to get it, and which direction God was leading him. He had been in love with her since they were in high school, and even after he left Bloomington to work at Ground Zero he kept quiet about his feelings for her. But in the doctor’s office this week — as the doctor confirmed her worst fears — Ashley could only think of one thing …
This was all her fault.
If she had come to her senses and fallen in love with Landon sooner, he never would’ve left. He wouldn’t have pursued a position with the New York Fire Department, and he wouldn’t have damaged his lungs with his time at Ground Zero. All if only she wouldn’t have waited so long to love him.
The doctor hesitated for what felt like forever before he answered Landon, before he addressed the idea of a cure. He pinched his lips together and gave a slow shake of his head. “There’s not a cure, really. I’m afraid to say that even with research done on this disease, only a few options remain.”
Landon reached over and took her hand. He didn’t waver or cry out or flinch. Like every other time in his life, all that mattered to him was her.
Everything had slipped in a strange slow motion from that point. Ashley opened her eyes and looked past the Baxter house to the roses outside. Roses that were just now, this second Saturday in April, starting to bud and grow again. Proof that life would go on — no matter what devastating news had come into their lives that week.
Ashley remembered the doctor saying something about oxygen tanks, and how the progress of the disease could sometimes be slowed dramatically with steroid use and artificial air support. She tried to picture her healthy, strapping husband carting around an oxygen machine when the doctor got to the point.
“The only cure,” his tone was grave, “is a lung transplant. Now … we don’t know for sure that we’re dealing with polymyositis. But if we are … that’s what we’re up against.”
What they were up against? A lung transplant for Landon? At his young age? Otherwise, what? She didn’t want to ask, and at that point Landon must not have wanted to ask either. Because none of them said much after that. They simply discussed the next round of tests — scheduled for a few weeks out — and listened while the doctor insisted Landon continue to take his medication and use his inhaler, whenever his airways showed signs of constricting.
They thanked the doctor and drove out of the parking lot, mostly in stunned silence. Halfway home Ashley would never forget the way Landon took her hand again and pulled the car to the side of the road. “I know what you’re thinking.” He drew her close, cradling the back of her head with his hand, his face close to hers. His tone was kind, but it was also passionately adamant. “Don’t do it, Ash … don’t blame yourself.”
Like every other time in her life, Landon knew what she was thinking, knew how to read her heart. He had watched her rebel after high school, and waited for her while she went to Paris and slept with a married man. When she came home alone and pregnant, he had been her friend … and after Cole was born, he was determined to be a support to her — as much as she would allow. And here — in the face of what might be the worst news they had ever received — there was no telling where she stopped and he began. He knew her that well.
She hung her head and let the tears come. Streams of angry, terrified tears because how could this happen? Hadn’t they been through enough? The death of her mother … and the loss of their little Sarah to anencephaly a year after that? Could God really think they were up to still another challenge: a lung disease that had no cure short of a transplant?
But more than all that, Landon was right. She did blame herself. Her stubborn pride had allowed Landon to get away from her, to leave for the job in New York for one reason alone — because she had given him no hope that the love he felt for her might ever someday be returned.
They had hugged then, and Ashley had sobbed in his arms until she had nothing left inside her. Until all that mattered was the rise and fall of her husband’s chest against hers. Later that day they’d gone to the ball field for one of Cole’s baseball games, and Landon had looked every bit the picture of health. He laughed easily and ran with the players around the field and, from every appearance, he breathed without effort.
Then and now, Ashley reminded herself to enjoy the moment. Savor the times when Landon was coaching Cole through this, his final Little League season, or when he was in the next room the way he was now — playing with their kids. They knew this was Cole’s last time to play Little League, but with Landon, only God knew the lasts now.
She checked the chicken again, just as the doorbell rang. Her family was here, the way they would always be here. It was why her dad had recently reminded her of the rest of the verse from John 16:33. Sure, in this world they would have trouble. But God didn’t leave them with that depressing fact. Rather, he finished the Scripture with the everlasting promise … words she could hear the Lord whispering to her soul this very instant.
My precious daughter, be of good cheer … for I have overcome the world …
The house filled up quickly, everyone excited about opening night for Unlocked and anxious for the live coverage of the red carpet event slated for a few hours from then. Her sisters and Elaine, her stepmother, joined her in the kitchen and the conversation was light and easy. None of them knew about Landon yet, no one except her father and Elaine. And they had promised not to say anything tonight.
“We don’t know he has it for sure,” Ashley had told her dad earlier that morning. “Let’s keep it quiet for now.”
Her dad agreed. “I’m praying every day, sweetheart.” He hugged her close. “But I know how hard this is.”
Of course he knew. He’d walked with Ashley’s mother through two bouts of breast cancer. The first had been tough — when the Baxter kids were little — but at least their mother had survived. The second had been swift and deadly. Yes, her father knew what she was feeling.
Ashley focused on the voices around her, the news that Kari and Erin had teamed up with a local co-op to homeschool their kids. The larger group of moms and students meant the kids could participate in science experiments and field trips. Brooke was excited about the growth of her medical practice, and all of them agreed that life was good and whole and going way too fast.
Devin bounded into the kitchen, mud on his face and a grin stretched from ear to ear. “Mommy, I’m working on the ‘zact spot where my circus will go.”
“His circus?” Kari raised a sweetly curious eyebrow at her nephew. “You’re building a circus, are you, Devin?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He jumped a few times in place and turned back to Ashley. “It’s the best spot, Mommy. Right by the fish pond.”
“Perfect.” Ashley took a paper towel and wiped the smudge of mud from his cheek. “There you go … get back to your planning.”
Dinner was ready, the table set, when Landon found her in the kitchen. He helped her fill a tray of paper cups with apple juice, and he laughed recounting a story Devin had told him earlier. “You know about his circus, right?”
“I do.” Ashley didn’t like the way she felt around Landon lately — uneasy and out of sync. She kept her eyes on the paper cups. “He’s building it in the backyard near the fish pond.”
“Right.” Landon positioned the cups so there was room on the tray for another row. They would need every spot at least. “But get this … tonight he’s going to assign jobs. After dinner.”
“Hmmm.” Ashley smiled, but she felt herself holding back. “That should be interesting. Especially while we’re watching the red carpet event.”
Landon stopped and turned to her. For a long few seconds he watched her, his disappointment palpable. “Baby … please. You can’t stop living.”
“I’m not.” She set the pitcher of juice down and slumped a little. “I mean, really, Landon … how can I laugh about Devin’s circus when I’m trying to convince myself you’ll still be here to see him reach first grade?”
“No.” He pushed the tray further back on the counter and eased her into his arms. “That’s what I mean, Ash … you can’t do that.” He leaned back just enough to search her eyes. “You ask me how can I laugh about Devin’s circus? Baby, how can you not?” His eyes begged her to understand. “God, eternity, and this dinner … that’s all the guarantee we’ll ever have — even the healthiest of us.”
He was right, and here in his arms she felt her anxiety fade. “I’m sorry.” She breathed out, wishing that with every inhalation she might breathe healing into his lungs, that they might grow stronger on her love alone. She found a smile that wasn’t forced. “Thank you … I can’t go through this without you.”
“God knows that.” He kissed her, long enough that she nearly forgot their dinner in the next room. “See? I’m fine.”
She laughed, and they joined the others. Dinner was the usual mix of passing food bowls and catching up on the latest. Her father looked great—proof that he and Elaine had been walking again. But every now and then he caught her eyes, and the two of them shared a knowing. Better to enjoy tonight, like Landon had said. None of them knew what tomorrow might hold.
After dinner, they still had thirty minutes before they could turn on the TV for the live coverage of the premiere. Devin must’ve realized this was his window, because he stood at the middle of the two tables and waved his hands. “Everybody … I need your ‘tention, please.”
Gradually, the conversations quieted. Ashley loved this about her sisters and their husbands, the way the Baxter family listened to everyone, whoever had something to say. In this case, Devin realized quickly that the floor was his. “Okay … I’m having a circus, and …” He looked around the room at each person sitting at both tables, scrutinizing them the way an employer might look over a roomful of potential new-hires. “Yes. I want you all to be in my circus, okay?”
Ashley smothered a laugh as she leaned in closer to Landon. On the other side of him, Cole rolled his eyes, but not in a mean way. He was the first to raise his hand. “I’m in, buddy. Definitely.”
The others around the room nodded and added their voices to the mix. Everyone was willing to play a part. Only Maddie stood, her expression knit together in mild concern. “Devin, … I want a job. But tell me I won’t have to wear tights.” Disgust sounded in her tone. “I hate tights.”
Ashley smiled to herself. Her niece was only playing. Maddie was thirteen, a tomboy who loved playing soccer and running track. She was too old to take Devin’s proposition seriously.
Brooke — Maddie’s mother — shrugged in Devin’s direction. “What can I say? The girl hates tights.”
“That’s fine.” Devin looked very serious. He stroked his chin like a businessman considering a high-risk investment. “Hmmm. Okay, Maddie. You can sell the busgetti.”
Cole sent a quick look to Landon, but Landon only put his finger to his lips. “Shhh …” He leaned closer to Cole, his voice a whisper. “Let him have spaghetti at his circus.”
Maddie considered the job for a moment. “Okay. I can do that. As long as I don’t have to wear tights.”
Devin turned to his Uncle Peter, Maddie’s father. “And you, Uncle Peetah, you’ll be my policeman. So no bad guys try to break into the circus without paying their tickets.”
“Very nice.” Peter nodded, fully accepting his duties. He was a doctor by day, but clearly he embraced what would be a definite change of pace. “I think I’ll like that.”
“And you, Mommy,” he didn’t stick to an exact order, “you’ll be the flying girl …” Devin’s diction made it sound like he had assigned her the position of “flying ghoul.”
Ashley bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t crack a smile. “I like flying … that’s perfect for me.”
“Right.” Devin sized her up. “Hmmm … You’ll wear a red costume … and blue ribbons in your hair …” He paused. “And American flag tights.” He swung his arms from one side to the other. “And you’ll fly back and forth across the whole … big, long circus.” He didn’t quite smile. The matter was very serious to him. “Can you live with that?”
Ashley swallowed another bit of laughter. “Definitely.”
Beside her, Landon brushed his cheek against hers, his voice low. “I’d like a private showing of those American flag tights.”
“Thank you.” She grinned at him. “I’ll be sure to set that up.”
Devin continued for another ten minutes until everyone had a job. The cotton candy seller, a joke teller, someone to wave flags as they walked around the room. But, he saved his grandpa for last. “And Grandpa … you’re the lion tamer, okay?”
“Okay.” Ashley’s father puffed out his chest. “That’s because I’m the strongest man in the circus. Right, buddy?”
“No.” Devin didn’t catch the teasing in his grandfather’s tone. “That’s Daddy!”
Landon grinned at Ashley’s dad. “What can I say?”
Ashley wanted to freeze the moment, hold on forever to this time when everyone was healthy and happy and thinking about the role they’d play in Devin’s circus … when Devin believed Landon wasn’t only the strongest man in the room but in the whole wide world.
Devin smiled sweetly at his grandpa. “You tame the lions ‘cause you’re the nicest, Grandpa.” He spoke with the patience of a teacher. “And the only way to tame a lion is to be extra nice.”
“Oh.” Her dad sank a little, drawing easy laughter from the others. “You don’t think it’ll be too dangerous, then?”
“Hmmm.” Devin stroked his chin again. “I know.” His eyes lit up. “Uncle Ryan can take out the lions’ teeth first.” He nodded, convinced the plan was a good one. “Right, Uncle Ryan. That can be another job for you. Can you live with that?”
“I hope so.” He made a concerned face. “Selling pop and taking out the lions’ teeth.” Ryan was Kari’s husband and the football coach at Clear Creek High. He was tall and built like the college football player he had once been. But in this moment he looked very nervous. “I might have to contact my lawyer about that.”
Devin hesitated, not sure if his uncle was playing it straight with him. But given the seriousness of his circus he nodded. “Okay. Do that first.”
Everyone had a position, and Ashley was about to wrap up the discussion when Devin gasped loudly, “I ‘most forgot!” He looked around the room, nearly frantic. “I need someone to run the ‘magination machine.”
Ashley squinted at her son. Of all the things he had talked about regarding his circus, this was something new. “The what?”
“The ‘magination machine.” He used his hands to illustrate a contraption that would be big as his arms could reach and possibly taller and bulkier. “It’s this size, and it fits on a person’s head like this.” He struggled to lift the invisible creation onto his head.
“Buddy, what’s it do?” Ashley’s dad put his arm around Elaine, his eyes twinkling. “I might volunteer for this.”
“Good.” Devin talked as fast as he could, the ideas coming to him with lightning speed. “The ‘magination machine sits on the person’s head and taps into their brainwaves and it helps bring their ‘magination back to life!”
“You mean their imagination?” Ashley knew this wasn’t a joke to Devin. She treated the situation with respect.
“Right.” A burst of joy spread across Devin’s face. “The ‘magi-nation machine! People would come to the circus and pay five dollars, and someone has to put it on their head and then … Bzzzz!” He pretended to push a button. “Their ‘magination comes back to life!”
Ashley sat back a little. She looked around the room and saw that she wasn’t the only one touched by Devin’s belief in the power of imagination. She blinked back tears but kept her smile intact. “I like it, Devin buddy. I think people would want to come to your circus just for that.”
“I’d charge more than five dollars.” Ryan cast a definite look at Ashley’s father. “Keep that in mind if you run it.”
Landon’s smile had grown tender in this recent exchange. “Buddy, why do you think people need to have their imagination brought back to life?”
“Because.” Devin held up his hands and let them fall to his sides again. His smile dropped off for the first time since he’d started talking about his circus, and his eyes held a sort of tragic sadness. “When people get older … their ‘magination sometimes hides in a corner.”
For a few seconds no one said anything, and Ashley understood why. Every adult in the room was considering the very real possibility. At one time they might’ve all dreamed of a circus with toothless lions and spaghetti for dinner. But now … maybe Devin was right. Maybe an imagination machine would help all of them. The idea had certainly lightened Ashley’s mood.
Then — and even later as the red carpet event started and everyone gathered around the television to watch Dayne, and Luke, and their families, and the Flanigans, and Brandon Paul — Ashley still thought about Devin’s comment. She made a plan to work on the painting of Cole and Landon tonight when everyone was asleep. If she wasn’t careful, her fears could kill her creativity — and she’d be first in line for Devin’s imagination machine. And she made another plan too. As she painted she would pray for her husband’s health, and for Cole and Devin and Janessa. That they would have many more nights like this one.
And that not for a minute would their imaginations ever hide in the corner.