“Amazing.” Brandon was quick to answer.
“Waking up with your best friend … being together like this,” the sparkle in Bailey’s eyes was brighter than the sun on the lake. “It’s the most wonderful time ever. I never dreamed it would be like this.”
The couple shared how they were growing their theater business, still keeping CKT, but adding a more professional round of shows and auditions. “It’ll be open to people of any age, but we’ll incorporate a Bible study with the rehearsal process.” Brandon’s expression told them how happy he was about this. “I never want to live in LA again.”
Dayne chuckled. “It’s not for everyone.” He was proud of his friend. Brandon left at the height of his public popularity. He was still one of the favorite actors in the nation, maybe even in the world. But he had grown tired of the constant paparazzi and insanity.
“It’s like I dreamed it would be.” Brandon leaned back and turned his face to the sun. He had his arm around Bailey’s bare shoulders. “We get to live our lives. We wake up and read the Bible together. We go to the store and to church and to the theater.” His smile looked marked by peace. Something that had often been missing before. “It’s like I was born for this.”
“And we love working together.” Bailey turned to him, and for a moment they were lost in their own world. She looked back at Dayne and then Katy. “We have so many dreams for CKT and the theater. Like maybe one day people will think of Bloomington as a place where they’d come to see live shows.”
“We’ve made an offer on some storefront space on either side of the building we already own.” Brandon laughed. “We’re not taking over downtown just yet, but we have a vision for it.”
They explained how part of their ideas for renovations included free office space for people in mission work. “Theater meets mission.” Bailey laughed lightly. “We can fill the downtown with people who want the world to know about Jesus, and still make it the most artsy place this side of New York City.” She grinned at her husband. “With a coffee shop and boutiques and little restaurants. That’s the dream, anyway.”
Somewhere through the course of the day, Dayne realized something that made his heart feel light, made him feel like he would find his way back to daylight at the end of this week. He hadn’t thought about death for more than an hour. He took the wheel of the boat again and drove them along the edge of the lake to a private beach a ways down. Dayne and Brandon worked to dock the boat, and the four of them sat in beach chairs, their towels spread out on the sand.
There the conversation continued and eventually it returned to the accident.
“The news reached every part of the country.” Brandon’s voice fell a notch. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for your family. We’re just so sorry.”
Katy looked out at the lake. “At first it was like … this can’t be happening. I mean, we’re all gathered at Ashley’s house waiting to give John Baxter this surprise party and there’re these sirens. Like everywhere and all around us. Just sirens and more sirens.”
Bailey hung her head for a moment, and reached for Brandon’s hand. “How terrible.”
Dayne nodded. “Everyone who arrived at the house was talking about it. Kari and Ryan, Luke and Reagan, Brooke … we all heard them, and a few of us saw ambulances. We had no idea what was happening. The last thing that occurred to most of us was that Erin might be involved.”
“The driver didn’t make it, right? That’s what I read.”
“He didn’t.” Dayne put his elbow on the arm of the chair and felt Katy’s skin brush against his. “He fell asleep, but his seat belt was off. Almost like he must’ve been thinking about pulling over and getting some sleep. Like his body somehow thought he was already parked and he could climb out of his seat and into his bunk. That’s all we can figure.”
“His family must be devastated.” Bailey shook her head. “The reports say it was one of the worst accidents in Indiana history.”
“I think about all that, and then I picture Erin last night.” Katy lifted her face to the bright blue sky. “She’s not worried or hurting or frightened. She’s alive, more than ever before. Same as the rest of her family. All except Amy.”
They were quiet for a moment, letting the gravity of the situation, the hope of it, settle between them. After a while, Bailey told them how her family was doing, the boys with their sports, and Connor with his singing. He was on a scholarship to Liberty University and enjoying being home for the summer. His plans to audition for American Idol were on hold for another year, since his college singing and touring commitments wouldn’t allow him time at this point.
“What about Cody Coleman?” Katy asked the question.
“He’s great.” Bailey smiled and leaned in a little closer to Brandon. “In fact, he and Andi got engaged on Saturday.” Bailey didn’t seem to connect the fact that the engagement had happened on the same day as the accident. “The wedding will be around Christmas sometime. Andi said they’re working on a date.”
Dayne was glad for the young guy. Cody had gone off to war and lost the lower part of his left leg. Before that, like Katy, Cody had lived with the Flanigan family. In the early days, Bailey and Cody had shared feelings for each other, but God had moved them past that time. Cody lived in Southern California now, coaching high school football. Andi was Bailey’s former college roommate. Even though that time in Bailey’s life was long past, Cody was enough a part of Bailey’s history, that Dayne wasn’t surprised to hear Katy ask about him.
“Andi must be thrilled.” Katy’s voice held a joy that had been missing since Saturday. “She’s been through so much. I’m thrilled for them.”
They kept talking about Bailey’s friends, about the past and the faithfulness of God, but Dayne felt himself tuning out, distracted by certainty that even on days marked by the deepest sorrow, life and love still reigned. On the day of the accident, while death had its way out on Highway 37, people were celebrating summer and boating on Lake Monroe, welcoming babies and falling in love.
Cody and Andi had even gotten engaged.
It was further proof that the song they’d sung around Erin’s hospital bed was rich with truth. God was faithful, His mercies ever new. And no matter how dark the night, this much would always be true.
Morning would come.
CANDY BURNS HAD TRIED EVERYTHING TO remove the Facebook post, but she was out of options. Nothing worked. She had left the private message on Erin Hogan’s page and now there was no way to get rid of it. She sat at her mother’s computer and silently cursed herself for being so careless. That night she’d gone out with some of her old friends and gotten drunk. Not a little wasted, but drunk. Smashed drunk. She barely remembered writing the post, and now as she read it for the twentieth time she cursed herself again.
The post might be the very thing that would do her in this time. She might as well have walked herself into the child protective services office and signed away her rights to ever coming out ahead where Amy was concerned.
She leaned back hard in the plastic computer chair. The accident was a new twist. The death of two of her girls. Candy tried to feel sad about their loss, but it was difficult. They were in heaven — that’s the way Erin and Sam had raised them to believe, no doubt. And now Candy had less kids to worry about.
Less kids and more money.
It was her mother who first thought about the possibility of an inheritance. That was after they got word that Erin was dead, too. Candy and her mother had been sitting at her mother’s small kitchen table, looking out the window of her third-floor apartment when her mother’s expression changed. “They had to have insurance.”
“What?” Candy didn’t get it at first. A lot of good insurance would do the family, now that most of them were dead. “For Amy’s hospital bills?”
“No.” Her mother snapped at her. The woman had been more testy than usual lately. “Life insurance. A couple like the Hogans? Probably had a boatload of insurance.”
Candy might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer but it took no time to reach the conclusion her mother was hinting at. “So you’re saying …”
“I’m saying you just hit the lottery.” Her mother laughed, but not in a mean sort of way. Usually her mother was a pretty stable person. It didn’t make her bad, just because she was happy for Candy over this new development. “Wherever Amy goes, the money will go. We could live very, very comfortably.”
Candy didn’t correct her mother about her use of the word we. Besides, the woman couldn’t stay in one place longer than a few months. She got cabin fever too easily. Already she’d hinted a few times that her style had been cramped by Candy — who had no job, no car, and nowhere to live except with her mother. Candy’s release from prison made it less possible for Lu to think about getting work on another cruise line — something she wanted to do before the summer was up.
At first when she realized there was probably money involved, she actually talked her mom into driving to Indiana so they could show up at the hospital and sit with Amy. So it would be clear that she was theirs and not anyone else’s. She and her mom packed a couple bags, tossed them in the back of her old Buick and headed out of town.
They got about ten miles down the interstate when the Buick threw a rod. Her mother had to call a friend with a tow truck and they spent the rest of the day at the shop, while her mom complained about how much Candy was costing her.
It didn’t matter. She’d pay her mother back.
With very little imagination, Candy could see this working just fine. She and Amy could live in the house here, rent free, and have all the money just to live on. A new car, new clothes. The jewelry she had never been able to buy for herself. She could probably find a nice man with that kind of money.
Not that she knew exactly what kind of money they were talking about. But life insurance was usually a whole lot. Enough to live on for years and years, at least that’s what her mother had guessed. So maybe a hundred thousand or two hundred thousand. Something like that.
The thought made Candy giddy with anticipation. She could hire a sitter for Amy, so she could go out with her friends at night. Every night if she wanted. Sure she and Amy would have some time together. She wouldn’t want the girl to run away or anything. But she could hardly wait to have a little cash in her pocket. She could take her girlfriends somewhere nice for a change. The kinds of places where the rich men hung out.
Yes, everything was about to change for Candy, and according to Naomi Boggs — the social worker — there was going to be a hearing in a week or so. More of a technicality from what Candy understood. Because of the open adoption agreement, with the adoptive parents dead, Amy officially belonged to Candy’s mother. But since Candy was out of prison and since she’d taken those tedious parenting classes, and of course since she was Amy’s actual mother, the judge would probably give her custody.
Candy and her mother had decided the hearing was more of a formality. Erin had a bunch of sisters and brothers — at least that’s what Candy’s mother had said. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting Amy. Maybe visits once in a while so they wouldn’t feel guilty about moving on. But Amy wasn’t a blood relative. She was adopted from a felon, after all.
What use would Erin’s family have with her?
That’s what Candy had figured until just this very moment. Now, as she sat in the Friday evening dark staring at her stupid private Facebook message to Erin, Candy was haunted by a possibility. If she wanted Amy for the insurance money, maybe someone in Erin’s family would feel the same way. And if they felt the same way, they would fight Candy for custody of the girl. And if they fought for custody, the private Facebook message could ruin Candy’s chances forever.
That was definitely a possibility.
Which would be the greatest tragedy of all, because the kid was probably worth a fortune. But only to the person who raised her.
“How could you be such an idiot,” she whispered out loud at her reflection in the computer screen. A string of expletives rolled off her tongue. She’d sent the message early Friday morning. Just after she’d stumbled in the door from her wild Thursday night. There was a chance no one from Erin’s family had seen it, but then the social worker had called. Candy tried to ask sly kinds of questions to see if Naomi Boggs knew whether Erin or Sam had seen the message.
She used her most sad voice. “So … when did the family leave for Indiana?”
There was a long pause. “When did they leave?” Naomi seemed puzzled. “Two of your daughters were killed in a car accident. And you ask when did they leave?”
“Look.” Candy had to think fast. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Mrs. Boggs. I’m trying to … to picture my girls in their final days. I just wondered if they drove straight through or what?”
The woman seemed super irritated. “As far as I know they left Friday morning.”
“Do you know what time?” Candy regretted the question immediately.
“Again … I’m not sure I understand your interest, Mrs. Burns.” The social worker came across awfully high and mighty. “I thought you might have questions about Amy, since she’s still alive.”
“Give me time.” Her voice was a little too angry, so she toned it down. “I’m only trying to understand the whole thing. Like … did Erin or Sam say anything about me? Like after they started for Indiana?”
“Mrs. Burns, I’m sorry. I need to get back to work.” The woman sounded downright angry now. “If you have questions about your surviving daughter, feel free to call me. Until then, and unless you’re willing to be more transparent with the purpose of your questions, I have other duties to tend to.”
Now, as Candy replayed that conversation in her mind and a second one she had with Naomi Boggs late yesterday, she had a horrible feeling the social worker knew about the private Facebook message. Why else would she be so short on the phone? Candy blinked, her mind a foggy mess. Of course, if Naomi knew about the message, why hadn’t she said anything?
It was possible Erin and Sam hadn’t seen it before they left Friday morning, and if they had … it was just as possible that they hadn’t shared the news with Naomi. They would’ve been busy driving and talking and looking forward to the family visit in Indiana. Yes, that was it. Candy smiled to herself and pushed back from the computer. No one would ever see what she’d written that drunken Friday morning. They would have the hearing and she would win back Amy, and the insurance money would be hers. She had nothing to worry about.
Who checked their private Facebook messages the morning before a trip?
Twenty-Two
ASHLEY SPENT ALL OF FRIDAY AT AMY’S BEDSIDE.
She and Landon were both there when her doctor eased her out of the induced coma before sunrise, and when Landon returned home to the other kids and the rest of the family before noon, Ashley stayed. She’d been mostly sleeping, but a few times she opened her eyes and spotted Ashley and Landon. Amy would look around the room, as if she was looking for her parents or her sisters, and then she’d close her eyes again.
“She’s going to be very tired for the first day or two.” Brooke had been in constant contact, doing what she could to help Ashley understand the process. “What do the doctors say about her injuries?”
“They’re healing. Her arm’s in a cast, of course. And she’s still very bruised. But they say she can go home Saturday evening.” Ashley paused, feeling the weight of the sadness to come. How would she tell Erin’s youngest daughter that everyone else in her family was gone? “I guess overall everything’s healing the way it should on the inside.” Everything but her heart, Ashley wanted to add. The part that might never heal.
“Are you coming home tonight?” Brooke was already back at the Baxter house with the others. “She’ll be okay, Ash. She won’t know you’re there.”
“I’ll know.” Ashley sat in the chair closest to Amy’s bed. She reached out and took the child’s small hand. “I promised Erin I’d take ca
re of her.”
Brooke didn’t push the issue. None of the others did, either. And so now that it was Friday night, Ashley grabbed a quick salad at the hospital cafeteria and thanked the nurses for putting a cot in Amy’s room. She would sleep when it got late enough. For now she intended to sit next to the little girl and hold her hand. Please, God … soften the blow. Protect her heart from the enormity of what she’ll be waking up to. Father … she needs You so badly.
Do not fear, daughter. I will carry you and her … now and always.
Ashley felt the whisper of God to the center of her anxious being. Even yesterday while they were singing Erin toward heaven, Ashley couldn’t stop thinking about little Amy. If the child would belong to her and Landon, then her emotional and physical well-being would be their responsibility.
Amy’s room was the first place Ashley went after they said their good-byes to Erin. Even before the doctor started bringing her out of the coma. Landon left to sleep at home for a few hours, and before he did he cautioned her. “You can’t take away the pain, Ash.”
“I know.” She had studied the little girl, imagining her unsuspecting heart. “I just don’t want her to be alone.” Her eyes found Landon’s. “Erin would want me to stay.”
Now it was a full twenty-four hours later, and the funeral was tomorrow. Ashley planned to leave the hospital around eight in the morning, get dressed at the house, and attend the service with the rest of the family, from the church service to the cemetery. The moment they were done, she planned to be back here. Especially if tomorrow night Amy might get to go home.
The child was still on an IV and other monitors, but she was stable. Whatever that meant in light of the losses she faced. Ashley watched her roll onto her side. She grimaced, her brow forming a V over her sweet face. Her nurse had told Ashley the child would be in quite a bit of pain for a while, the result of major bruising and strained muscles throughout her body.