Someone rolled her onto her side and gave her a shot near her spine, and then they returned her to her back. She was having a C-section; that’s what was happening. One of her dad’s colleagues set up a screen over her chest area so she couldn’t see the operation. Off to the other side, her father took his position, ready in case she needed him for anything at all.
It was happening—it actually was. She and Landon were about to have a baby together, and God was being gracious enough to let her live to see it happen. She willed herself to relax. There was no pain now, and her breathing was much easier than before.
In minutes, she felt a strong pulling sensation, a tugging almost. Landon still had hold of her hand, but he had moved far enough down the length of her to see the delivery. Watching his reaction was like watching the birth herself. His eyes glowed and sparkled, and then he looked at her, awe and amazement shining on his face.
Their baby’s first cry filled the room—a healthy, lusty wail that told her everything she already knew. That the problems were behind them.
“Ashley . . .” Landon’s eyes were wet. “It’s a boy. He’s . . . he’s beautiful.”
The doctor held him up, and for the first time Ashley saw for herself. She brought her fingers to her mouth. “He’s perfect.” Her words were barely a whisper, mixed with tears and joy and a lifetime of hoping that somehow, someday she might share a moment like this with the man she loved more than life itself.
A nurse took the baby a few feet away, where she cleaned him and wrapped him in a blanket. The whole time, Ashley allowed herself to be lost in Landon’s eyes, in the miracle they’d just witnessed. Not just that she had survived and lived to see her baby’s birth. But that God had used the love between her and Landon to bring this precious child into being.
When their baby was ready, the nurse handed him to Landon.
“Congratulations!” Her father came up beside them and peered over Landon’s shoulder. “He’s perfect.”
Ashley’s tears came in earnest then, because her mother should be here too. Standing nearby, sharing this moment with them. “I wish . . . Mom were here.”
Her father came a step closer and took her hand. “She is, honey.”
Sorrow and great happiness more than she’d ever known mingled and fell like rain from Ashley’s eyes. Her dad was right. Somewhere in heaven, her mother was rejoicing with her over this new little boy, this child who was God’s blessing to her and Landon, His way of saying that every bit of struggle along the way had been worth it because here they were.
Landon brought their tiny son closer, and the three of them huddled together. She kissed his minutes-old cheek and nuzzled against his face. Then she kissed Landon. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’ll remember this . . .” Landon kissed her again; then tenderly he stared at their son. “I’ll remember it as long as I live.”
The nurse was waiting; Landon gave their son one last kiss before handing him over. The infant needed to be weighed and checked, cleaned more thoroughly, and run through a host of tests. But before the nurse left she grinned at them. “He’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her father went with the woman, leaving the two of them alone with the other doctor.
Ashley lifted her eyes to Landon’s. “You’re a daddy!”
His eyes held more depth and meaning than she had believed possible. “Yes.” His smile held an understanding. “For the second time.”
Right then, Ashley knew she was part of not just one miracle but a series of miracles. She had survived, and the baby was healthy. But even more, she was married to a man who loved her precious Cole and had been a father to him as far back as she could remember.
For this was the greatest miracle: that somehow, out of billions of people in the world, Landon Blake had found her and loved her totally.
Cole was the first to see the new baby.
The entire Baxter family—even the children—were in the waiting area down the hall with Landon’s parents. But Ashley had asked her dad to bring Cole in before the others so they could have a few minutes as a family. Ashley was propped up in bed, their baby bundled in her arms and Landon at her side, when Cole came bounding into the room.
He was breathless and red-cheeked, and the moment he saw the infant cradled against her chest, he stopped. Ashley watched the transition happen in his heart. For years, he hadn’t needed to share his mommy with anyone. Now, though, the picture of life as he knew it had changed forever. He didn’t look jealous or angry, just aware, understanding that things were different now. Then just as quickly, he flashed his parents his biggest grin and hurried to her side. “Papa said it’s a boy!”
“He is.” Landon let him squeeze in front. He put his hands on Cole’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “He looks just like you.”
Cole angled his face, studying the baby. “He’s redder than me.”
“Yes.” Ashley bit her lip to keep from giggling. “I think Daddy means his eyes. He has your eyes, Cole.”
“Yeah.” Cole leaned in. “Hi, little brother!” He brushed his finger across the baby’s cheek. “I knew you were going to be a boy.”
Neither of them could argue with that. “God must’ve known you needed a brother, Coley.” Ashley reached for him and pulled him close. “Brothers are very special.”
“I know.” Cole hugged her, then straightened. His eyes danced. “’Cause we already have Maddie and Hayley and Jessie.” He wrinkled his nose at Landon. “That’s probably enough girls, don’t you think?”
“And Chloe, Clarisse, Amy, Heidi, and Malin.”
Cole smacked himself on his forehead. “I forgot about all those ones.”
They all laughed, and Cole leaned toward the baby again. “He sure has little fingers.” His expression was earnest. “I don’t think he can throw a ball for a long time, Mommy.” He lifted his little brother’s arm. “They don’t make balls small enough for hands like that.”
Ashley savored every moment of this first meeting, the first time the four of them were together as a family. “Your daddy and I picked a name for him. Wanna know what it is?”
“Not Brent, right? ’Cause Brent at school made that a bad name, I think.”
Landon coughed to cover his laugh.
Ashley swapped a grin with him, and then she looked at her older son. “No, Coley, not Brent.”
“We named him Devin Anthony Blake.”
“Hmm. Devin is nice. The best soccer player in all of fifth grade is named Devin.” Cole nodded and brought his face close to the baby’s once more. “Hi, little Devin . . . grow up fast, okay? I wanna teach you how to throw a ball with me and Daddy.”
Ashley felt a tug on her heart. Because Cole didn’t need to worry. Devin Anthony would grow up fast, just the way Cole had. Too fast. But there would always be a considerable age difference between the boys. When Devin was five, Cole would be starting middle school. She ran her fingers along Cole’s brow. “I pray you’ll always be the best of friends, Cole.”
“We will.” He smiled at his tiny brother, and it was the smile of an angel.
Her father poked his head into the room. “Ready for the others? They want to come in groups of four or five.”
Ashley laughed. “Even that’ll take an hour.”
“It’s your fault.” Landon swept her hair off her forehead, his voice full of teasing. “You’re the one who moved the reunion to the hospital.”
After Landon’s parents had a chance to meet their new grandson, Luke and Reagan were the first of the Baxters to come in. Malin was in Reagan’s arms, and Tommy held Luke’s hand.
Luke blinked and gave his sister a wide grin. “He’s a little miracle; that’s for sure.”
Reagan took a turn. “He looks like Cole.”
“But redder,” Cole interjected. “I’m not that red.”
Laughter filled the room, and Luke caught them up on the news outside the hospital. Seven people were confirmed dead in Bloomington, m
ostly residents of a trailer park that had been straight in the path of the F-4. Six people were still missing, but police expected to find them alive.
The Autumn Trace area, just outside of downtown, had taken the hardest hit. But, fortunately, everyone there had had time to take cover.
“We ran into Katy Hart in the lobby.”
“Katy?” Concern sounded in Ashley’s tone. Katy had dealt with enough lately. “Why is she here?”
“One of the CKT families—the Reeds, I think she said—lived in Autumn Trace. Their house was leveled, everything destroyed. For a while the whole family was missing. She was at the scene when they were found.”
The enormity of the storm was something Ashley hadn’t thought about since waking up. All that mattered in her own little world were her baby and sharing him with the people she loved. But outside these hospital walls, the people of Bloomington were reeling. She knew the Reeds, of course. They were a wonderful family, and now—though they were all alive—they had lost everything.
Ashley’s heart hurt for them. “Please, Luke, tell Katy to stop in later. Tell her I’m glad everyone’s okay.”
The visits from her siblings continued in a stream of congratulations and admiration. Little Devin did indeed look like Cole, but he looked like his daddy too. It was something they had both noticed, and she found herself praying that he would be like his daddy in other ways also.
Finally, after everyone had met the newest member of the family, the Baxters headed home. The reunion agenda was a little altered now. They had already missed church and instead of a game day, they were going to check out the Baxter house and begin making whatever repairs were needed.
When they were gone, Landon pulled up a chair and settled in beside Ashley, and a nurse brought in a portable bassinet for the baby. Only then did Ashley realize something. In the craziness of the night, her father hadn’t had time to tell her siblings about their older brother.
The only Baxter who didn’t know there was a new little addition to the family.
She thought about asking Landon to call her father. Maybe they could set up a meeting tonight in her hospital room, and her dad could carry on with the news the way he’d planned. But she gradually let the idea go. They couldn’t squeeze more than twenty people into the room, and even if they could, this wasn’t the time for a conversation like that.
Next to her, Landon dozed. Poor guy. He was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of last night. Same with her father. No, this wasn’t the time for her siblings to find out about their parents’ secret.
And maybe that was part of God’s plan too. Her father had wanted more time, hadn’t he? Well . . . now he had it. Another year could pass before they were all together again, but so what? Maybe by then their older brother would change his mind and want to meet them, want to take his place at their family reunion. God had worked one miracle after another in their lives, hadn’t He?
Maybe a year from now He would work another.
Dayne was sound asleep when the phone next to his bed started to ring. “Ughh.” He rolled over and squinted at the clock. Seven thirty. Who would be calling so early?
He’d been doing reshoots with Angie until ten the night before, and after working with the director in the editing room, he didn’t get home until after one in the morning. It had to be work related, because his friends always called his cell.
He reached for the phone and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Dayne . . . Mitch Henry here.” There was an urgency in the man’s voice, which was often the case.
Still, the director’s tone made Dayne sit up on his elbows. “You woke me. What’s going on?”
“You’re lazy, you know that, Matthews? We working slobs are in the office by seven but not you A-listers.” He chuckled. “Want me to call you back?”
“No. I’m awake now.” Dayne sat up a little more. “Let me guess; you’re casting a movie and you want me to go to Bloomington to find a woman with pale blonde hair and transparent blue eyes, right?” He yawned. “A woman whose innocence is as genuine as summer.”
“That’s not why I’m calling, but if you can get her here for a film, I’ll give you a bonus. Her too.”
Dayne smiled. That was the beauty of Katy Hart. Money couldn’t attract her to Hollywood, not as long as God was calling her to stay in Bloomington. “Okay, so other than to get my lazy self out of bed, why’d you call, Mitch?”
“Because—” Mitch hesitated—“I received a package this morning from the mail room at the studio. Apparently someone sent it here, hoping I would get it to you.”
“Fan mail?” Dayne rubbed his eyes. Mitch needed another movie. If he was getting people out of bed over fan mail, the guy clearly had too much time on his hands. “Why don’t you forward it to my agent? Isn’t that how it usually works?”
“Well, this one’s different, Dayne. It’s from Bloomington, and it’s got Private and Confidential written all over it.”
Mitch had his attention. Had Katy put something in the mail to him? And if so, why would she send it to the studio with Mitch’s name on it? “Who’s it from? Any name on it?”
“Yeah. The sender’s a guy named John Baxter.”
Dayne’s head began to spin. Was he dreaming? Was that how he could explain what he’d just heard? He looked at his clock and at the sunshine streaming through his blinds. No, he wasn’t dreaming. It was a new day, and his former director was on the phone telling him that he was holding a piece of mail for him. Mail from John Baxter. But how had he found out? How could anyone have known?
“Dayne . . . did you hang up?” Mitch was a smart man. His voice made it clear that he had questions about the piece of mail. “Do you know the guy, or what?”
“Uh, yeah.” Dayne was already getting out of bed. “I met him on location last fall.”
“Okay, so do you want me to forward it to your agent? I’m just trying to clear my desk.”
“No!” Dayne’s answer was fast. His heart thudded hard against his chest, and he had to work to sound calm. “Actually, I have to run a few errands. I’ll be by to get it in twenty minutes.”
Dayne was dressed and on the road in record time.
His agent and his PI were the only people who knew about his connection with the Baxters, so how could John have figured it out? Katy couldn’t have said anything. She knew he was adopted but nothing else. Not even that his birth family lived in Bloomington.
He drove as fast as he could without being unsafe. Clearly Katy knew nothing about John Baxter’s discovery. Dayne had talked to her briefly after the tornado outbreak. He knew about the Reed family’s house and that everyone else was okay. That was days ago, so by now the town was probably knee-deep in the cleanup efforts.
Why would John send a letter now?
Dayne reached the studio, parked his car in a tow-away zone, and dashed inside. How long had he wondered about this moment, dreamed about it? And was it possible the package was some sort of strange coincidence, maybe something from Luke Baxter pertaining to the upcoming trial? Could it be that Luke had asked his father to send the package, and John had written his own name on it by mistake?
Or had his biological father truly found him?
Mitch was sitting at his desk. He looked surprised when Dayne rounded the corner, breathless. “Very nice.” He gave Dayne a once-over, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Sweats and a ragged T-shirt. Bed hair. The paparazzi will have a field day with this look.” He handed Dayne the envelope. “Did you even check the mirror?”
“Very funny.” Dayne took the package. He didn’t care what he looked like. This was a moment he’d wondered about for years. He stared at the large envelope. It felt lumpy, as if there was more inside than legal documents. His hands shook so badly he could barely make out the words. One thing was certain: he wasn’t about to open the package here. He had one more question for Mitch. “When did it get here? Yesterday?”
“No.” Mitch leaned back in his chair a
nd studied Dayne. “Three weeks ago, I guess. I’ve been working at another studio, so the mail room held it for me.”
Three weeks! Whatever was inside, John Baxter had sent it the same week Dayne found out about Kelly’s abortion, the week he had never felt more lonely and lost in all his life. He held up the envelope and grinned at the director. “Thanks, Mitch. I owe you one.”
“Okay, so who’s John Baxt—?”
Dayne was already out the door and down the hall. There was only one place he wanted to go, one place where he could feel alone with whatever was in the envelope. Even if it was only legal papers and maybe cassette tapes from Luke, the package had been sent by his biological father.
In his Escalade out in the parking lot, he scanned the area for paparazzi. There were none—too early for them. He set the envelope on the seat beside him, and fifteen minutes later he pulled into Pepperdine University. He parked in the same lot where he and Katy had been when she was considering the role in Dream On.
The lot overlooked the Pacific, and on a clear blue day like this one, there was no better view anywhere. He thought about getting out, walking to the small stone bench thirty yards down the narrow footpath, the one by the duck pond. But that would leave him no way out if paparazzi found him here.
Instead he rolled down his windows and stayed in his Escalade.
He picked up the package and turned it over in his hands slowly, tentatively, as if its contents might explode in his face. And they could, couldn’t they? Whatever the envelope held, if it truly was from John Baxter, his life would be changed from this moment on.
God . . . You brought this to me. He could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins, feel his brow getting damp. Whatever’s in here, let me react with Your understanding, Your wisdom.
There was an assurance that came with a prayer like that. No matter what lay ahead, God was with him. Because of that, he could handle whatever he was about to find. He slid his thumb under the flap and ripped open the top of the envelope. Now that he was ready to read it, he couldn’t get the contents out fast enough.