Sunrise (14 page)

Her eyes flew open, and she jumped down from the stool. Ricky was standing in front of her, his hands on his hips. She tried to recover. “Not . . . not too long.”

Suspicion colored his eyes. “What friend was it?”

“Bryan Smythe.” There was no point lying. “He wanted to say hi.”

“Did you ask Mom?”

Bailey felt her heart skip a beat. “Was Mom looking for me?”

“No. Still . . . you have to ask to go out at night.”

“I know, bud. I’ll tell her about it later.”

Ricky looked doubtful. He shrugged and went back with the other boys.

Bailey realized she’d been holding her breath, and she let it out slowly.
Calm,
she told herself.
Act calm
. She wasn’t lying; she would tell her mom about Bryan’s visit later. She went past the kitchen, through the dining room to the living room, where her parents were. They sat on either side of Cody, their hands on his shoulders, heads bowed.

They were praying, and Bailey knew better than to interrupt. She tiptoed back through the dining room and was about to join the boys in the family room. But instead she poked her head in and waved at them. “I’m going to bed.”

Connor seemed to just notice her. He was that way around TV—completely absorbed. “Hey . . . come sit with us.”

“Not tonight.” She waved again. “I’m tired.” Without waiting for whatever he was going to say next, she skipped up the stairs, turned left at the top, and darted into her room. For five minutes she sat on the edge of her bed and replayed in her mind everything Bryan had said.

She was just about to hit the bathroom so she could brush her teeth when her phone vibrated. She jumped and flipped it open at the same time.

Another text from Bryan.
Tonight was great. I thank God for you, Bailey Flanigan. Sweet dreams . . . I know mine will be.

She flopped onto the bed and stared at the message. Was the guy for real? He was so nice! What guy said those things? Especially the part about thanking God for her. If it wasn’t for lines like that, she might still wonder whether he was genuine or just great with his words.

But if he was thanking God, then of course he was real.

She made a dreamy sound and read his message once more.
Sweet dreams . . . I know mine will be.

Suddenly she couldn’t wait to see him again. She hit Reply and worked her fingers across the keypad.
Mine will definitely be sweet. Thanks for coming by . . . even though it was freezing . . . lol.

A few seconds after she sent it, she received another.
I was only cold when you walked away. Next time we’ll have to hug a little longer.

She giggled and closed her phone. No need to answer that one. Besides, she always found it better if she didn’t send the last text in a conversation. Let him wonder a little. That’s what her mom always said. She hesitated, and a slight gasp filled her throat. Her mom! How was she going to tell her all that had happened in the last half hour? Even if her parents finished talking with Cody and her mom came up to her room, she couldn’t explain everything Bryan had said or everything she felt.

And she wasn’t 100 percent sure her mom would understand, anyway.

Bailey brushed her teeth, washed her face, and slipped into her nightshirt. Ten minutes later—a record time—she was beneath the covers with the lights off, thinking of every kind thing Bryan had said and how it felt having his heartbeat against hers. They hadn’t done anything wrong. She was old enough to have a friend stop by to say hi, right? She dismissed the thought and went back to replaying Bryan’s words about the stars and his heart and the sweet dreams he was going to have.

She could always tell her mother later.

John didn’t spend much time at Elaine’s house. Somehow going there felt strangely forbidden, much more like a dating relationship. The feelings came from his old-fashioned roots. Back in his dating days, a man didn’t go to a woman’s house if she lived alone. He might pick her up at the front porch, but he wouldn’t go inside. Propriety ruled.

Going over there today was different. His motives were purely born of friendship. She needed his help, so he would go. Period.

Today was the second Sunday in December, and Elaine’s new television still wasn’t working right. John figured it was a wiring issue, something wrong with the connections. But in the meantime, Elaine couldn’t watch football. And Elaine was crazy about football. She was the proud owner of an NFL Sunday Ticket package, which gave her access to every professional game played each week. She knew stats and players and had a definite opinion that the Colts would win the Super Bowl.

Or maybe
opinion
wasn’t a strong enough word.

John had been going to church twice each week—once on Saturday night with Elaine and again on Sunday morning with his kids. Elaine would’ve done just about anything to keep her Sundays open. Twice in the last four weeks, John had joined her, watching Sunday football and sharing dinner at her house.

But then her television broke, and her kids bought her a new one during one of the day-after-Thanksgiving sales. It worked the first week, but a few days ago Elaine had tried to adjust something and lost the picture. When John returned from church this morning, he had a long phone message from Elaine. Could he please come over? Her TV needed work. She still had no picture, and she really needed one. Preferably before kickoff. Oh, and could he stay for dinner? She made homemade lasagna, and they could wrap the gifts they bought for their grandkids.

John smiled when the message ended. For a woman who didn’t usually talk much, the message ran a full minute. It almost made her sound nervous, like a schoolgirl searching for a reason to ask him over. He called her, and there was a laugh in his voice as she answered the phone. “So basically you’re inviting me over for the rest of the day and evening.”

“Basically.” Elaine’s light laugh filled the phone line. “I guess that would’ve been quicker.”

They chatted for a few minutes about practical things—that he would bring a few rolls of wrapping paper and that she had plenty of Scotch tape. Now he’d found the bag of Christmas presents and paper and put them by the garage door. He grabbed a spare set of TV cables in case hers were defective.

Before John left, he stopped in his bathroom and glanced in the mirror. A few old bottles of cologne sat on the counter near his sink. He picked up one he hadn’t worn in a while and spritzed it on his neck. Elaine had casually commented a while ago that she liked cologne and that many men their age no longer cared about smelling nice. But he wasn’t wearing it for her. He was a professional, a doctor who spent his day around people. He would’ve worn it with or without Elaine in his life.

Definitely.

As he set the bottle down and hurried to the garage, his cell phone rang. The caller ID told him it was Ashley. He popped it open. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dad . . . I meant to catch you after church.”

“Oh . . . sorry.” John opened the trunk on his car and heaved the bag of gifts inside. “What’s up?”

Ashley hesitated. “Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

“Just packing my Christmas surprises into the car.” He chuckled. “It’s a big load this year.”

“Hmmm.” Ashley sounded confused. “Where’re you taking them?”

“Over to Elaine’s. We’re having a wrapping party.”

She exhaled loud enough to be heard. “Anyway . . . I wondered if you wanted to join us for dinner at Kari’s house. Brooke and Kari and me and our families. It won’t be a late night. Kari and I are getting over some kind of flu bug.”

“Sorry to hear that.” John felt his heart stir. His kids were so kind to him since Elizabeth’s death. Especially Ashley. “Thanks for the offer, honey. I’ll have to take a rain check.”

Ashley didn’t seem upset. They talked a few more minutes while he climbed into his car and backed out of the garage. He was halfway to Elaine’s by the time they finished their conversation. He made the rest of the drive in silence, asking himself the questions Ashley had avoided.

What were his real feelings for Elaine, and why was he looking forward to spending the rest of the day with her? He pulled up in front of her single-story house and stared at it. This wasn’t the house where she’d spent her married years. Elaine had sold that a decade ago, after her husband died.

“Too many memories,” she’d told him. “I keep the memories in my heart, but I need to live somewhere that matches where I’m at. And living life without my husband meant entering a new season. So I needed a new house.”

The place was older and neatly kept with a large, nicely manicured front yard. Elaine’s neighborhood was quiet and stately. John felt comfortable here. He tried not to notice that his pulse was faster than it had been back at home. He was looking forward to the day; that’s all. Also it was gray and damp and freezing outside. Snow was in the forecast.

He took a deep breath of early winter air. He’d made the right decision about the day. Kari, Ashley, and Brooke deserved a dinner by themselves. Especially since things were quieter than they’d been in a while.

Erin and her family were gone, and Dayne had moved into his lake house. He and Katy had purchased enough furniture for Dayne to have the basics, though they were still busy getting each room set up. Luke and his family were living in a rental south of Indianapolis, a place where they’d stay for six months while they continued looking for a house. Their furniture had arrived weeks ago, so they were settled and getting ready for Christmas.

Elaine’s kids were in Indianapolis and Michigan, so she would’ve been alone today if he hadn’t come. Spending the day with her would be good for both of them. He unloaded the bag of presents from the car and was about to set it down and reach back inside for the wrapping paper when he heard her voice.

“Need some help?” Elaine stood in the doorway grinning at him. “You look like Santa Claus.”

“After Thanksgiving, I feel like it.” John had put all the gifts in one oversize black yard bag, which now seemed about as big as him. His hands were too full to wave off her help, but he peeked around the bag. “Stay there. I’ve got it.”

She laughed and skipped down the steps. “I’ll get the wrapping paper at least.” When she passed him, she touched his shoulder. “Thanks for coming. Peyton Manning’s going to make history this year, you know. I can’t miss a minute of that.”

“No problem.” John kept walking toward the open front door. “We’ll have everything up and running in no time.” He stepped inside and looked around the room. The gifts Elaine had purchased lay spread out on one of her matching living room sofas. He set his things down on the other.

“It’s freezing out there.” Elaine returned with the wrapping paper and set it on the closest chair. “Feels like snow.”

“That’s what the news said.” He caught his breath and smiled at her. “Okay, show me what you did to the TV.”

John took apart the wires leading from the receiver unit to the television, VCR, DVD player, and two sets of speakers—one in the front of the room, one in the back. While he worked, Elaine made coffee, and they talked about their kids and grandkids. Elaine’s were healthy. One of her kids was coming down for Christmas Eve, and the other would join her the week after.

“How’s Hayley?” Elaine sat on the arm of the old leather sofa she had in her TV room. “She looks better every time I see her.”

John was lying on one hip, looking for the right place to plug in the cable. He sat up a little and looked at Elaine. “She’s amazing. There’s no medical explanation for how a little girl could be underwater as long as she was and be doing so well.”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Yes. Brooke said she’s starting to read, which means her brain is still healing.” John found the right jack and made the connection with the cable. Then he sat up and turned to Elaine again. “To think I was ready to give up on her.” He always choked up when he remembered those dark days immediately after Hayley’s near drowning. “I thought there was no hope for her. She’d be blind and bedridden all her life. I begged God to take her home.” He squinted against the pain of the memory and allowed a sad smile. “I guess God showed me.”

Her eyes held fresh compassion. “He has a way of doing that. . . . How about Tommy? Is Luke having an easier time with him?”

John laughed. “He’s all boy; that’s for sure. Typical toddler, testing his boundaries.” He stood and found another cable in the pile near the entertainment center. “He’s still shooting people; only now when he does it he appears to be blowing a kiss. Then at the last possible second, he makes the shooting sound instead.”

Elaine tried not to laugh. “I don’t envy Luke and Reagan. Those years are a lot of work.”

“They are. Luke found a Growing Kids God’s Way class at their new church in Indianapolis. They might not agree with everything about the program, but I think it’ll help.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say Luke and Reagan are both looking forward to it.”

“And Ashley . . . is she okay?”

Elaine hadn’t asked about his middle daughter since Laughter and Leftovers. If one of his kids struggled with the friendship between John and Elaine, she had told him she wouldn’t worry about it or ask questions unless he brought it up. But clearly Ashley’s emotional breakdown that night was still troubling Elaine.

“I should’ve told you.” John sat back down on the floor. “She’s fine.” He looped one arm around his knee and leaned on his elbow so he could see the panel at the back of the TV. “She’s been dealing with a flu bug or something. She looks like she’s lost a little weight.”

“Things are good for her at home?”

“Better than ever. She and Landon are giddy in love. I mean . . . I can’t believe that daughter of mine almost drove away the best thing that ever happened to her.” He grinned and leaned toward the television. “I’ll be thanking God forever that Landon was stubborn enough to stay.”

“They have something special.” Elaine sounded wistful. “Just like Kari and Ryan.”

“Brooke and Peter too. They’re just more businesslike. More left-brained, I guess. Now that they’ve worked out the trouble over Hayley’s drowning, they’re very close.” John examined the cord, and in the shadows he tried to make out the labels beneath the jacks. “It’s Sam and Erin I worry about. They have four beautiful daughters, but sometimes I wonder if Erin’s really happy. She doesn’t say much, especially since Elizabeth died.”

“It’s like that with my oldest. Gives me lots of reason to pray.”

“Amen.”

At the end of the hour, after talking about each of their children and grandchildren, John connected a cable from the receiver to the TV. Then he stood and put his hands on his hips. “That should do it.” He pushed a few buttons, and the picture came to life.

Elaine clapped and looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes to spare.”

They watched the game while the smell of Elaine’s lasagna filled the house.

When it was over, when the Colts had notched another victory and Peyton Manning was another step closer to making history, Elaine slipped a MercyMe CD into her stereo. Then she flipped a switch near her gas fireplace, and a flame sprang to life. “Have you heard the song ‘Homesick’? It’s on this CD.” She moved some of her gifts to the coffee table and sat on the floor in front of it.

“Yes. It’s beautiful. Talks about losing someone and feeling homesick for heaven.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She used her remote to start the CD. “Used to make me cry every time I heard it.”

John wasn’t sure what to say. The song still brought tears to his eyes; how could it not? He set some of his gifts on the floor at the other end of the coffee table and dropped to the carpet. That way they each had a work space. He paused long enough to catch her eye. “You can listen to it without crying now?”

“I can.” Elaine shifted her gaze to the front window. “I hear it, and I have that love still, that . . . I don’t know, that fondness for my husband and all we lived through together. The memories and laughter and loving. But I’m almost happy for him, I guess. He’s where he’s supposed to be.” She lifted her hands and smiled at John. As she did, she looked especially attractive. “And I’m here. Because God’s not done with me yet.”

John held her eyes for a moment. “I like that.” He felt lighthearted, with none of the maudlin heaviness that usually came with talk about Elizabeth or the loss he’d suffered. He smiled. “I like that a lot.”

They wrapped Fisher-Price toys and LEGO box sets and Little House on the Prairie books. Nerf guns and miniature piano keyboards and building blocks and a couple of LeapFrog games. They talked about Christmas, their favorite traditions, and Katy and Dayne’s pending wedding. All the while MercyMe played in the background twice through, and the fire crackled at the far side of the room.

An hour into their wrapping project, snow started falling. Winter was upon them now, no question.