For a sleepless night he considered calling them and telling them over the phone. But they needed all the details, and they needed time to absorb them before having a conversation with him.
He picked up the first letter—the one to Brooke. Like the others, it was straightforward. He read over it one more time, wincing the same way he had when he wrote it.
Dearest Brooke,
I write this letter with a heavy heart, but it’s time you know the truth about something. Your mother and I kept a secret all the years we were married, a secret we never expected to share with any of you. The secret is this: you have an older brother, whom your mother and I were forced to give up for adoption the year before we were married.
It’s a long story and complicated. I’ll be happy to share it with you in person after you read this. The point is, your mother’s dying prayer was that she find our firstborn son, and that in finding him she would find peace. Well, God answered that prayer. At just the right time your older brother made a decision to find out about his birth family. He hired a private investigator, and his search led him to your mother. They shared an hour together the day before she died.
As a way of honoring her dying wish, I, too, hired a private investigator. Now our older son and I are in contact. His life is very different from ours, but he longs to know you and your sisters and brother. We are trying to figure out how to move forward from here. But that won’t be possible without your forgiveness and grace, without your understanding.
I realize this will come as a shock to you, and again I am sorry. Things were so different back before your mother and I were married. If you made a mistake, people expected you to hide away and . . .
John closed his eyes. What was he doing? He couldn’t mail a letter like this to Brooke and Erin, to Kari and Luke. This would be the single most shocking piece of news they ever received. By writing the details in a letter, he was forcing them to make a phone call that was clearly his to make.
He took a deep breath. Then he gathered the pieces of paper on the table and ripped them into shreds. When the pieces were lying in a heap, he picked up the phone and dialed Brooke’s number. It was half past seven, so she’d probably be home. All his daughters would be home, and Luke would be available on his cell.
The phone began to ring, and John held his breath. God, this is a call I never wanted to make, a truth I never wanted to share. Elizabeth should be here with me to help the kids understand. Since she isn’t here, I need You . . . now more than ever. Please, God . . .
“Hello?”
“Brooke?” His heart beat so hard he was sure she could hear it on the other end of the phone line. “It’s Dad.”
“I know.” There was a smile in her voice. “You should see how great Hayley’s doing. She walks by herself all over the house. I don’t even hold my breath anymore, and this morning when Maddie—”
“Brooke.” He couldn’t wait another moment.
She hesitated, taken aback by his interruption. “Dad . . . what is it? You sound funny.”
“Honey, I have something to tell you. . . .”
Kari Baxter Taylor hung up the phone and fell into her husband’s arms.
Ryan had known something was wrong, same as he always knew. When the call was from her dad, Ryan had only smiled from across the kitchen and told Kari to tell him hello. But he must’ve seen the color leave her face, must’ve seen her drop slowly to the sofa, her mouth open.
Whatever gave it away, he had taken care of tucking the kids into bed, and then he’d joined her on the couch while she talked to her dad. He put his hand on her knee, knowing only that whatever the news, it had to be bad. Somehow having him here beside her kept her from falling over as her father went into detail.
They had another brother? An older sibling who her dad said lived in California? And all these years—all the decades of growing up—neither of her parents had ever said anything about him. Her mind reeled, and she steadied herself against her husband. As she held on to Ryan, she replayed part of the conversation in her mind. “Ashley’s known for a while. She found a letter your mother had written to him. I’ve already told Brooke, and I’ll be calling Erin next.” She could hear tears in her father’s voice. He sounded broken and barely able to talk. “I . . . I couldn’t wait another day, Kari. I had to tell you.”
“So you’re serious? You and Mom kept this from us all this time?” She felt a mix of emotions so strong she wasn’t sure whether to run or scream or lie on the floor and weep.
“Please, Kari . . . don’t blame your mother. Back then the social workers told us to give him up, walk away, and never—not once—look back. They told us it was better to believe we’d never had a firstborn son.”
“And you believed that?” She’d squeezed her eyes shut. “Even after we were born and you knew we deserved to know about him? Even when you held each of us and you could understand how great the loss really was?”
“We could understand the loss.” Her dad sounded tired but deliberate. Desperate for her to see it his way. “But we couldn’t talk about it. We tried to convince ourselves that he was never ours, that we had five kids, not six.”
“Dad . . .” Kari felt sick to her stomach. Everything she’d ever known to be true about her family was suddenly not true at all. They had a brother, a brother they’d missed out on far too long. “And Ashley knows about this?”
“She does. I asked her not to say anything.” He sighed. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you.”
Her thoughts had spun wildly out of control as her dad talked. How could it be possible? They had an older brother. There weren’t five Baxter kids but six. Or maybe this was some sort of dream. Maybe her dad was having a moment of dementia. She would call Brooke as soon as she got off the phone and see what her older sister had made of their father’s announcement. If she could make the dizziness stop long enough to dial the number.
“And you’ve been talking to him, this . . . this brother of ours?”
“Yes. He wants to meet you, but . . . well, it’s complicated. You have to trust me on that.”
The conversation had run in circles until finally Kari realized what she was doing. She’d asked every question three different ways, and her dad still needed to call Erin and Luke. She breathed deeply. Forgiveness. That’s what the moment required. Forgiveness for something her parents had done long before she was born and forgiveness for the way they’d hidden the truth from her and her siblings all these years. “I don’t know what to say, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Kari. I wish . . . I wish we would’ve told you together, your mother and I. We only did what we thought was best.”
She had tightened her grip on Ryan’s knee. The words were there, stuck in her throat, and finally God loosed them for her. “Dad . . . I don’t understand. I guess I’m in shock.” She looked at Ryan. His expression had told her he was baffled. “Still, Dad, I can only tell you this. I forgive you. We’ll sort through the rest of it tomorrow and, I guess, every day from here on out.”
“Yes.” Her dad’s voice had been tight. “Thank you, Kari. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too.”
Now Kari clung to her husband, trying to believe it was really true. She could think the words over a hundred times, and they would still feel foreign. They had a brother? An older brother their parents had never mentioned all those years? For a while she only rested her head on Ryan’s shoulder and let the tears come. Strange tears for a reality that still didn’t make sense.
And for a brother she had missed out on for her entire life.
As John called each of his kids, the shock had been there, of course, but after they realized that the news was not some sort of twisted joke, their reactions had been varied.
Brooke, the practical one, had been matter-of-fact. After the round of questions and amazement, the truth had settled in quickly for her. “I’m surprised only because it’s you and Mom, only because it’s my life this is affecting. B
ut I’m very aware of how things were back then. I’ve talked with patients who had a similar situation. Adoption forced upon them.” She rebounded quickly. “I’m sorry for all you and Mom went through, and yes—I’d love the chance to meet this brother of ours.”
John had worried that she would feel cheated somehow, no longer truly the firstborn Baxter. But Brooke was far too levelheaded for that. “I’m still the oldest Baxter, Dad.” There was an understanding smile in her voice. “He might be our brother, but he grew up in someone else’s family. He’s an only child, and I’m the oldest.” She gave a light laugh. “If he starts coming around and wants to share that role, then I can be big enough to share it.”
Brooke’s reaction had built strength in John, but it was short-lived after his conversation with Kari. She was wounded, no question. For the first ten minutes of the conversation he was sure she didn’t believe him, almost as if she thought he were having a moment of senility. Like Ashley, once she was forced to accept what he was saying, she expressed hurt for the years of loss, for never knowing the truth, and for a brother she had never known. Never had the chance to know.
Erin’s reaction had been mixed. She, too, struggled to believe what her father was saying. Over and over she kept saying the same thing: “I can’t believe Mom didn’t tell me.”
And of course that would be Erin’s response. She and Elizabeth had been so close, so bonded. They had talked about children incessantly, especially after Erin struggled with not being able to have children. Then when Erin went through the adoption process, when it was foiled at first and Erin’s heart was broken, there were countless times when Elizabeth might’ve shared with Erin about her own adoption experience.
“I just can’t believe she never told me.” Erin’s voice was distant, hurt.
The fallout from these conversations, John knew, would take years to work through. But the process had to start somewhere. Though during the conversation Erin never quite seemed to find peace with the idea that her mother hadn’t told her the truth, she didn’t sound mad at him. “Obviously the two of you had no choice back then.” She sounded teary. “Sam’s out of town on business. I guess . . . I just wish someone was here to hug me and make me believe this is really happening.”
John hated ending the call with Erin, hated that he wasn’t there to give her the hug she wanted. She would be okay; he could hear strength in her tone before he hung up. But she was cut deeply by the truth, definitely more upset over the loss of never discussing the situation with her mother. “I’d like to meet him. Especially since it mattered so much to Mom to meet him before she died. He . . . he carries a piece of her and a piece of you, Dad. A piece of all of us.”
“Yes.” John pictured Dayne, the look on his face when they had talked in the park a few weeks back. “He definitely has that.”
Luke was the last of his kids to know the truth. He was in a hotel in Los Angeles, watching the Pacers in a televised replay of the game against the Knicks. He had already talked with Reagan, already said good night to Tommy on the telephone. John spent the first part of the phone call listening to Luke spill every detail from the trial, how this was the day Dayne had testified, the day that Katy Hart had also taken the stand.
“And the paparazzi kept thinking I was Dayne.” He laughed, the comfortable sort of laugh from someone who had no idea his world was about to be rocked. “Isn’t that crazy?”
John couldn’t find the strength to comment. He massaged his brow. “Listen, Son, there’s something I need to tell you.”
The news must’ve seemed so outlandish to Luke that it took John longer to convince him than any of the others. “You’re kidding, right? I mean . . . you’re saying this because of the Dayne thing, because I said people are mixing us up?”
“No, Luke. Son, I’m being serious.”
They went another round, with Luke asking the same questions and John repeating himself. Elizabeth had gotten pregnant, and her parents had forced her to give the baby up. They’d planned to never tell anyone, to not even remind themselves, but then Elizabeth got sick and it became her dying wish, her final prayer—
“Dad,” Luke interrupted. The shock in his voice was undeniable. “Are you feeling okay? Can you hear yourself?” A choked bit of laughter rattled in his throat. “Where’s all this coming from?”
And John would have to start again.
They went on that way for nearly fifteen minutes before Luke fell quiet. That was the moment John knew the truth was finally sinking in. “You’re . . . you’re serious? I really have a brother out there?”
John was afraid Luke might come right out and ask if Dayne was his brother. The paparazzi certainly thought they looked enough alike. But God showed mercy on the moment, and the thought never seemed to occur to Luke. Instead he became resigned. “Well, yeah . . . I mean, I’d like to meet him too. He doesn’t belong to our family, but still . . . yeah, we could meet him. Whatever you want, Dad.”
It took another exhausting ten minutes before John could get Luke to express himself more, to admit that he’d need time to actually work through his feelings before he could say everything that was clouding up his heart. “So you’ve . . . you’ve been talking to him?”
“I have. He wants to know us.”
“But he already has a life, right? I mean, he’s in his midthirties.”
John could hear the insecurities between Luke’s words. “He does, but he’s known about us for a long time. He’s held off from making contact because he didn’t want to upset any of us.”
“Okay, so why the big push now? I mean . . . maybe we would’ve been better off to just let it go.”
“But Ashley knows, and she wants to meet him.” John held his breath and exhaled slowly. “I guess the situation just isn’t that easy.”
“I guess not.” He made a sound that suggested he was only barely catching his breath. “How are my sisters handling it?”
They talked about that for a while; then John tried again to explain the timing. “We might have a meeting with him sooner than I’d planned. I needed you to hear everything from me before you found out some other way.” John stood and paced across the living room. The phone felt hot against his ear. “I want to tell you everything, but some of this just has to wait.” He wanted more than anything to be there with Luke, to put his hand on his shoulder and reassure him.
The others would be okay; they all would. But Luke was harder to read. Until this moment, he had seen himself as the only Baxter son. That much was clear by his almost harsh statement: “He doesn’t belong to our family.” As if maybe Luke needed to remind himself that no one could walk into their lives and overshadow his place, his relationship with John. Especially after the tough year he’d had after 9-11 when he closed off to all of them for so many months. John knew that there were times Luke still felt guilty about his decisions back then, and the last thing John wanted was for the news of an older brother to stir up the insecurities that still plagued Luke. Insecurities that he wasn’t good enough to be a Baxter or that he’d let them down in a way that could never really be forgiven.
The news could send Luke into a tailspin, and John could only pray that wouldn’t happen. “We’ll get through this, Son.” John found strength he didn’t have as he finished the call with Luke. “Can you agree with me about that?”
“Wow . . . I mean, Dad, I’m still dizzy over here. Pretty sure I won’t be sleeping much tonight.” Frustration added to the other emotions in his voice. “I need to talk to my sisters.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “But we’ll be okay.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “We all will.” His tone softened. “I love you, Dad.”
Relief flooded John’s heart. “I love you too, Luke. More now than ever.”
The last call was to Ashley. By then John was shaking, his heart a mix of relief and regret, of wretched sorrow and dawning joy, and the strange sensation of a soul clear and clean for t
he first time since Elizabeth brought him the news that she was pregnant.
She answered on the third ring. “Dad, I talked to Erin and Brooke and Kari.”
“So you know.”
“Yes.” She sounded nervous for him. “Are you okay?”
His eyes welled up. “Are they?”
“Of course.” She moaned. “Oh, Dad, I’m so glad you called them. You must need a hug in the worst way.”
“I think we all do.” He went to the window and stared out. The moon was full, and it splashed light across the field out front. “Tonight . . . those calls. Next to giving him up, next to saying good-bye to your mother, this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Kari said that. She said she hoped you believed her when she told you she forgave you.” Ashley’s words were like a healing balm. “They all forgive you. You have to understand they’re still in shock, Dad. Kari even asked me if you were feeling well, if maybe this whole thing wasn’t a figment of your imagination.”
He would’ve laughed, but even now there was nothing remotely funny about the situation. “I think she thought I was losing my mind.”
“She did.” Compassion rang in Ashley’s voice. “I told her about the letter. I told all of them, except Luke. I’ll call him next.” She paused. “Dad . . . I feel so good about this. I think our brother’s about to make a decision that it’s okay, that meeting us wouldn’t be so bad. This way, well . . . we’re all ready. There won’t be any big surprises from this point on.”
John pictured Dayne Matthews, America’s golden heartthrob, one of the most famous people across the globe. His son. As he thanked Ashley for pushing him to do what had felt even yesterday too impossible to consider, as he hung up the phone, as he got ready for bed and began an hour-long prayer asking the Lord to protect the hearts of his kids and to help them find peace with the shock they’d just received, as he tried to imagine what each of them might be thinking, he kept being tripped up by one very real thought.
Ashley was wrong. The surprise that still lay ahead was even bigger than any of them could’ve imagined.