Not when Erin was still alive.
John had just found a chair and positioned himself at the side of his daughter’s bed when one of the nurses entered the room. “I need to give you this. It’s been in one of the storage rooms.” She held a tattered oversized brown purse, stuffed with what looked like torn papers and trash. In her other hand was a cell phone — again battered, but still in one piece. She handed the items to John. “We have a few boxes of other things that were scattered over the road during the accident. The suitcases in the back of the van … there was nothing really left of those.”
These were details John hated. The picture of their destroyed van decimated in the middle of the highway, their suitcases and clothing and iPods and magazines and purses — scattered on the roadway for all the staring motorists to see. He cringed as he took the purse and phone. They were Erin’s, he could tell immediately. The same ones she’d had last March at Bailey’s wedding. “We’ll … get the boxes in the morning. If that’s okay.”
“Of course.” The woman looked beyond sad. “This is my first shift since the accident. The entire staff … Dr. Baxter, we’re so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He lifted kind eyes to the woman. “God is with us.” The words came naturally. Like breathing. Because no matter how bad the doubts had been, they’d been replaced with this last blow of bad news. Doubt and anger wouldn’t help anything. Only God and heaven could do that. The woman left, and John glanced inside Erin’s purse. The papers were dirty and in some cases torn. They’d been shoved inside in a hurry. But it was possible that within the phone and purse they might find numbers and information that would help them know what to do next. John hugged the purse slowly to his chest.
As if by doing so he could feel Erin in his arms again.
His youngest daughter. He looked at her face, the way her brown hair even matted in the hospital bed, still framed her face much as it had Elizabeth’s when she was younger. Once again he was reminded that of all their girls, Erin had always looked the most like their mother. It was the reason he couldn’t bear to lose her. Her love for her family, her way of mothering, her mannerisms — all so much like Elizabeth’s. Erin had always been the last bit of reminder of Elizabeth John had left. He couldn’t do anything to help her now. So he did what he could. He sat at the side of her bed, clinging to her purse and her phone.
And praying for a miracle.
Seventeen
IT WAS NEARLY TEN O’CLOCK, TWO DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT, and Luke Baxter felt sick to his stomach. He sat at a table in the waiting room, anchored by Ashley and their dad. Never mind that his father’s birthday was tomorrow. None of them wanted to think about that now. The others were clustered in groups of two or three, taking turns comforting each other. It seemed like there was always someone crying or falling apart, and someone else strong enough to keep the others standing. And then the roles would reverse.
But tonight was the first time they’d thought at all about what would happen next. It was like as the tragedy unraveled time had stood still. None of them thought about e-mail or bills or work or getting online for any reason or even contacting Sam’s employer back in Texas. It was all they could do to survive one hour to the next as the news grew worse.
Luke figured the turning point came because of Erin’s purse and cell phone. Somehow his sister’s phone still worked, and since she was in a coma, still fighting for every minute of life, their dad had gone through her text messages. He’d found several from a woman who seemed to be the girls’ social worker.
“I feel like there’s trouble back in Texas,” his dad had told him an hour ago as he handed Luke the phone and Erin’s purse. “Erin said something about the girls’ biological mother wanting visitations. I think we should look into it.”
Luke had done as his dad asked and what he’d found left him even more devastated. A battle had begun to brew between Erin and Sam and the girls’ birth mother. Luke had sat alone going through the messages and clearly, by the tone of Erin’s texts, she was worried. One text in particular deeply concerned Luke. It was sent the morning Sam and Erin set off for their trip, the last text Erin had sent Naomi Boggs. Luke pulled it up and read it again.
Look, something urgent has come up. I can prove to you that Candy only wants money out of this. I’ll call you when we get back to Texas. This can wait until then.
The response had come sometime Monday morning. Yes, it can wait. I’ll tell Candy and her mother you’re out of town for a week. When you get back, give me a call and we’ll discuss your proof.
Of course now there was no way for Luke to know what Erin had meant. He looked across the table. Ashley and their dad were waiting for his assessment. Was there trouble waiting for Erin back in Texas or not?
Ashley was the only one who had seen Luke get the purse. She must’ve recognized the bag — the way girls did with things like that. Because she crossed the waiting room immediately and asked whether the purse was indeed Erin’s, and what else they’d found. Since then she’d waited patiently, sitting across from Luke for the entire hour. And now, while the others still talked with each other, caught up in conversations about past moments and the losses stacking up around them, Ashley wanted answers. Same as their father.
She leaned on her elbows, studying him. “What did you find?”
“It doesn’t look good.” Luke hated saying the words. After all that had happened over the last few days, they could use a little good news. But this wasn’t that moment. “There’s a trail of text messages here from a social worker, Naomi Boggs. She doesn’t seem to be the original social worker who took care of the girls’ adoption, but she’s handling the case now.”
“I’m confused.” John crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He looked weary and broken. “Why is there a current case? The girls were adopted nearly a decade ago.”
“Erin sort of explains it in here.” Luke lifted his sister’s phone and then set it back on the table. “It sounds like she and Sam made a deal with the girls’ grandmother at the time of the adoption.” He rehashed some of what they already knew, how Candy Burns had accidentally killed a drug runner in a deal gone bad, and how she’d served nine years in prison for the crime.
“I remember something about Erin agreeing to an open adoption so the grandmother could see the girls.” Ashley looked worried, her brow knit together. “Erin thought an open adoption with Candy’s mother was a bad idea at the time. But it was the only way she and Sam could get the girls.”
“Apparently, the grandmother didn’t care to see the girls. She visited them only a couple times since the adoption.” He looked from Ashley to his dad. “But now Candy Burns is out of prison and she wants regular visits. Because the adoption is open and listed that way in the state of Texas, there could be some real problems ahead.”
His father’s expression seemed to change from confusion to a painful knowing.
“I don’t get it.” Ashley sighed. “I mean, what right does some drug-addicted prisoner have seeing these girls agai —” She stopped, clearly catching herself. There were no longer girls who needed to worry about their birth mother. “I hate this.” She muttered under her breath and massaged her temples with her thumb and forefinger. “What I mean is, why should Candy see Amy ever again after what she did?”
Suddenly Luke felt his head spinning as a new reality hit him. Like Ashley, he had been worried about Candy trying to visit Amy — especially with Erin so injured. But the reality was worse. Much worse. He sucked in a shaky breath. “Think about this.” He leaned closer, keeping his voice down. He didn’t want the others hearing his concerns. Not when he was only beginning to understand them. “If Erin doesn’t make it … then who gets custody of Amy?”
For a long moment none of them said anything. They were too caught up in the suddenly very real possibility that Candy Burns might have a claim on Amy Elizabeth. Luke glanced through the text messages again. “A few days before they left, Erin said this to the social worker.?
?? He found the exact text he was looking for. “She said, ‘Please, help me with this. Whatever it takes I can’t stand the thought of Candy getting her hands on my girls. She never cared about them and you yourself said you’re worried she doesn’t care now. Taking parenting classes in prison doesn’t change the fact that she offered to sell them before she killed someone. Can’t the courts see that?’ “
Ashley clenched her jaw. Anger met with a passion that had always marked her personality. She tapped her fingers on the table. “If Erin didn’t want that woman to have visits with her girls, then …” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes. “We absolutely cannot let her regain custody of Amy.” Her voice fell to a pained whisper. “Absolutely not.”
“I agree.” Their dad had his hands clenched, like he would fight the woman herself if she dared come find Erin’s little girl. “Of course, we’re a little premature.”
“We are.” Luke was quick to say so. “Erin’s still with us. God could still heal her.” He had talked to Erin’s doctor earlier tonight when the others were in with her, and the prognosis was grim. But he didn’t want to say so. He also didn’t want to share the fact that no matter how strongly Ashley or his dad or any of them felt, there might not be anything they could do. The open adoption status left the custody change a very real possibility.
“She won’t have a case, right?” His dad sounded like he’d found a reason to live again. “I’m with Ashley. We can’t let anyone take Amy.”
Luke reminded himself to think like an attorney for a moment, and a plan began to take shape in his mind. He looked from Ashley to their father. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do.”
THE MOMENT GOVERNMENT OFFICES IN TEXAS were open, the morning of his father’s seventieth birthday, Luke sat at the old Baxter table and placed the call. He got ahold of Naomi Boggs with only a few transfers. “Hello?” She sounded young, not old enough to be jaded by the system.
Luke prayed for the right words. If Naomi was young, that could be good for them. She might be more willing to fight for Amy. “Hello, ma’am, this is Luke Baxter. I’m Erin Hogan’s brother.”
“Oh.” Naomi sounded confused. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Mr. Baxter.”
“Thank you.” His brain hurt. He stared out the window at his mother’s roses in the backyard. “Mrs. Boggs I’m afraid I have very bad news.” He barely paused. “My sister Erin and her family were in a terrible car accident over the weekend.”
Naomi’s gasp came across the phone line. “No! Is everyone okay?”
“They’re not.” This was the first time Luke had to tell someone outside the family. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He breathed out, leaning his elbows on the wooden table. “They were stopped on the highway in traffic when they were rear-ended by an eighteen-wheeler. The guy was asleep at the wheel.” His voice shook, and everything in his chest hurt. “Heidi Jo died at the scene.”
“No!” Her breathing became jagged. “That’s terrible.” She might’ve been crying. Luke wasn’t sure.
“There’s more.” He felt like hands were choking him, like the power of saying the words was enough to make them true again. “Clarissa and Chloe and their father, Sam, have also passed on at the hospital. They’ve been at St. Anne’s here in Bloomington, Indiana.”
“That can’t be.” Naomi’s shock was evident, as if maybe Luke had called the wrong person or maybe he was referring to a different family. “It was … a family vacation. I can’t believe this.”
“Yes.” Luke remembered to exhale. “They were driving up for my dad’s surprise birthday party.”
“Dear God, why them …” the woman’s whispered words were barely audible. But the fact that she’d said them told Luke one very important thing. She must believe in God. And if that were true, he could only hope she would have their family’s best interest at heart. “What about Erin and Amy?”
“Amy is in a medically induced coma after having surgery. But she’s expected to recover.” He hesitated. “Erin’s very critical.” This, too, was difficult to admit to a stranger. Luke still believed for a miracle, but the reality remained. “It doesn’t look good.”
“This is awful. I can’t believe it.” She sounded stunned. “Let me sit down. Hold on.”
He waited while a bit of noise came across the line and the phone seemed to jostle in the woman’s hands. After a few seconds she came back on the line. “So you’re saying … there’s a possibility Amy could be an orphan in the next few days?”
Realistically it was a possibility in the next few hours. But Luke couldn’t bring himself to say so. “Yes, ma’am. That’s … why I’m calling.”
“Dear God … help us.” She breathed out, long and slow, like she’d been holding her breath since he gave her the news. “This is very serious, Mr. Baxter.”
“Luke. Call me Luke.”
“Okay. And I’m Naomi.” Her tone suggested she was distracted, as if maybe she’d pulled out a pad of paper and was taking notes. “Has anyone in the family signed power of attorney for the girls? They’ll all —” She hesitated, as if — like Ashley yesterday — she didn’t easily make the adjustment to the Hogans having not four girls, but one. Just one. “I’m sorry. Power of attorney for Amy Elizabeth.”
“Yes. That took place a few days ago.” He had gone down to the courthouse near the university and taken care of it after talking with the doctor about the idea of organ donation.
“The thing is, Candy has done a great job making the courts think she’s rehabilitated.” The woman paused. “I haven’t figured out her motives, but she’s absolutely determined to have visitation rights.”
Luke let the possibility stay with him for a few heartbeats. “What do you think? I mean, my sister believes the woman is still a danger.”
“I agree. But there’s no way to prove it.” She sounded defeated. “Because of the open adoption, I’m worried.” Her shock was morphing into a deep sort of sorrow, at least if her tone was any indication. “The way the last social worker wrote this one up, Candy and her mother have more rights than if they’d done a closed adoption.”
The possibility was beyond comprehension. If Erin died, when Amy woke up and when she learned that her family was gone, she might be ripped from the Baxters and sent to live with Candy Burns. Incomprehensible. “Mrs…. uh, Naomi. I’m calling because our family is not willing to give up custody of Amy to her birth mother. If … if our sister doesn’t make it.”
“I understand.” Naomi was clearly on his side, but the resignation in her tone scared him. “Let’s take this one step at a time. I’ll make a few calls, and then we’ll talk.”
“What happens next?”
Naomi sighed. “Unfortunately, I have to tell Candy and her mother. Again, with the open adoption we have to be forthright in the situation. Two of Candy’s biological daughters are no longer with us. She needs to know.”
Luke’s mind raced ahead, trying to imagine how the felon and her mother would react to the news. If there wasn’t any Erin or Sam to swindle money from, then maybe Candy would lose interest. In other words, no one to pay her to get lost. Still, he felt beyond uneasy about the situation. His lawyer sense told him that the woman was up to no good, and once she heard about the accident she’d find a way to use it against them.
Not until he hung up did he figure it out.
Immediately he dialed the number in Erin’s phone for Sam’s employer. Once he reached Sam’s boss, Luke began the conversation by breaking the awful news to the man. After a few minutes of the man expressing his great sorrow and shock, Luke got to the point. “We need to know if Sam had a life insurance policy.”
“Yes.” The man didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask Luke to prove he was even actually related to Sam Hogan. Probably too much in shock over the news. “Everyone in the company is entitled to one of our life insurance packages. I can check for you and call you back.”
Luke wanted to keep the details legal, even if the boss didn’t ask for identific
ation. “Look, I’m going to fax over my license to practice law and a copy of my identification along with copies of Sam’s and Erin’s ID’s. That way you can know this is aboveboard, and you can feel right giving me the information.”
The man was still so sorry about what had happened. He apologized for not requesting the verification at first and the call ended. While he waited, Luke closed his eyes. Dear God, please heal Erin … please breathe life into her. If we lose her, we might lose Amy. And that can’t happen … God don’t leave us now. Please, Father.
My son, be still and know that I am God. In all things, I am God …
The response was the last thing Luke wanted flitting through his mind. Of course God was in control. But at a time like this he wanted promises from the Lord that everything would work out, and Erin would get better so she could raise Amy, and so that Candy would be shut down and the adoption would become closed. The way it should’ve been at the beginning.
Instead the Lord seemed to whisper to him again, this time to be still. How can I be still? I need to act … I need to fly to Texas if that’s what it takes. This matters to Erin … we have to keep that child from being taken away from us.
This time there was only the sound of his racing heart. Eleven minutes passed and Luke was about to call Sam’s boss again. He had a hunch here, a hunch that the life insurance policy wasn’t one of those throwaway deals worth only enough money for a funeral.
The phone rang before he could call back. Luke answered it immediately. “Did you find out?”
“I did.” Sam’s boss still sounded broken over the news, but there was a little pride in his tone. Like he was glad he could get the information, glad to help. “It was a term policy.”
Luke tried to be patient. If Candy knew about the life insurance — if she even suspected there might be an inheritance involved — she could be on her way to Indiana right now ready to assume her role as the only functioning parent in the situation. He closed his eyes. “Worth how much? Does it say how much it’s worth?”