Sunrise (21 page)

“Are you serious?” Katy hadn’t heard any of these details. And now, in a matter of seconds, all the pieces had come together. Rhonda would direct, and she’d have help from a member of the strongest children’s theater groups in the nation. Not only that, but since the position paid practically nothing, he’d have a place to live. The same way she’d had a place when she came to Bloomington. “This is perfect. Tell us about the guy.”

“I don’t know much about him. His name’s Chad Jennings. He’s twenty-eight with a strong faith and a love for theater. His résumé is impressive.” Bethany focused on Rhonda. “He wants to run his own company one day.”

“Okay.” Ashley held up her hands as if she couldn’t take another minute of the conversation without speaking her mind. “I’ll ask if no one else will.” She paused. “If he’ll be working with Rhonda, is he single?”

Everyone chuckled.

They finished their coffees and speculated a little longer about the possibilities for who might help Rhonda with the spring show.

Katy silently thanked God that the details had come together so quickly. “Something else. Bailey Flanigan’s been taking dance for years.”

“She’s easily the best dancer in CKT.” Rhonda’s tone told them how excited she was.

Katy’d been mulling this over for a few weeks. “She might be ready to choreograph a show.”

Rhonda gasped. “That’s a great idea. I could help her, but she’d have the freedom to be creative.”

A buzz of conversation broke out around the table, and at the same time Katy saw Dayne walk in. Seeing him made her smile. He wore a wool jacket dusted with snow. Immediately he spotted her, and their eyes held. Katy felt her heart flip-flop. She couldn’t wait to marry him. Every day felt like a year.

Suddenly she remembered the girl at the counter. She slid past Bethany and excused herself from the group. If the barista recognized him, all sense of normalcy would disappear from the meeting. And Katy didn’t want Dayne distracted when the news from the meeting was so good.

The barista was busy making a drink, so Katy hurried to Dayne, took hold of his arm, and practically ran him back to their booth. Along the way she leaned up. “You smell good.”

“Nice to see you, too.” He laughed. “Did I miss something?”

“The barista. She’s crazy about you.” Katy let Dayne slide in first, next to Bethany, so even if the girl looked their way, she might not notice Dayne. When they were seated, Katy told the story—how the girl wanted to touch Katy because Katy had touched Dayne.

“Great.” He turned to the others. “Okay, where are we?”

“You’ve got a job.” Ashley looked past Bethany. Her eyes danced the way they always did when she was around Dayne.

“Sets?” Dayne looked like a hopeful first grader waiting for word on whether he was captain of the kickball team.

“Yep, you and me.” Ashley high-fived him. “Bill Shaffer builds, you do the grunt work, and I paint.”

“Grunt work!” Dayne’s tone was thick with teasing. “My dream job!”

Everyone laughed. Katy loved the relationship Dayne and Ashley were building. More than any of the Baxter siblings, Ashley had wanted to meet her older brother. Katy remembered just how badly. And now they’d be working on sets together. It was a scenario neither she nor Ashley had ever believed possible.

Katy introduced Dayne to Al and Nancy and caught him up on
Oliver!
and
Seussical
. “So we’re set for the winter and spring shows.” Katy checked her agenda. This was the part she was dreading. “Next we should talk about the theater.” Bethany had brought a report with the details. Katy had a feeling the news wasn’t good. “Go ahead, Bethany.”

Bethany rifled through her papers and pulled out three pages stapled together.

A quiet fell over the group, as if everyone feared whatever might come from this part of the meeting.

“I won’t take a lot of time on this. I have a report from the owners of the Bloomington Community Theater. It confirms what we’ve all been hearing.”

Beneath the table, Dayne reached for Katy’s fingers and squeezed them gently.

“They’re planning to put the theater on the market at the end of this coming summer.” Bethany suddenly seemed overcome, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were sad and watery. “A developer’s interested in tearing down the theater and putting up high-rise condos. Since the property borders the park, apparently the deal’s pretty lucrative.”

Katy felt too sick to speak. She was getting married, Nancy and Al were leaving, and now they were likely losing their theater.

Rhonda was the first to recover. “That doesn’t mean it’s for sure, right?”

“They’re putting it on the market. From what they’re telling me, they’re sure about that.”

“What about other theaters, other locations?” Dayne’s voice was compassionate. He hadn’t been personally involved in the theater, but he was probably thinking about how much CKT meant to Katy and the people in Bloomington.

“The only other theater in town big enough to house our productions is at the university. And their schedule fills up a year in advance.” Bethany scanned a page of notes. “The administrator in charge said that returning theater groups have first dibs on booking for the coming year.”

Katy felt tears in her eyes. There were a million memories in that theater. Sarah Jo Stryker singing opposite Tim Reed in
Tom Sawyer
. Bailey Flanigan playing the White Witch in
Narnia
. The sword fight rehearsal in
Robin Hood
. Hundreds of hours of frustration and sweat and tears and twice as many hours of laughter and song and dance. The theater was the place where she’d first seen Dayne, the place where he’d proposed to her.

She couldn’t picture someone tearing it down and building condos.

“I’ve looked at this proposal so long I’ve memorized it.” Bethany passed it to Katy. “Right now our best option is to pray the owners change their minds.” She cleared her throat, and Katy knew her boss was struggling as much as she was. “If they sell the theater, we’ll have to consider closing down CKT. Of course, this is highly confidential. I don’t want anyone outside of this group to know that this is even a possibility.”

“We can’t close it down!” Ashley looked about to cry too. “The Baxter grandkids haven’t auditioned for a single show!”

“A lot of kids haven’t.” Bethany closed her planner and folded her hands. “I’m very upset about it. I had to let you know so you could join me in praying and looking for some other way to keep CKT going.”

A sense of shock and somber sadness settled around the table. They closed the meeting by praying, because prayer wasn’t only their best option. It was their
only
option.

Al offered to lead. “Lord, we’re at a strange crossroads with Christian Kids Theater. In some ways these seem like the best of times, but then this could very well be the beginning of the end. And that’s something none of us want—even Nancy and me.” He coughed, and it sounded as though he was fighting for composure. “We beg You, God, to change the minds of the building owners. Bloomington needs its community theater, and the kids need CKT. So please, Father, change the minds of the owners, and if not, then please give our dear friends here a way to keep things going.”

No matter how positive the meeting had been, the ending left a cloud that hung over all of them as they left. Hugs were exchanged, and though Katy could still see something wasn’t quite right with Rhonda, her friend seemed better than before. “Let’s talk soon.” Katy searched her eyes. “I mean it.”

“Okay.” Rhonda’s smile was sincere. “I’m sorry, Katy. I haven’t been myself lately.”

“That’s all right.” Katy hugged her. “We’ll talk soon.”

They escaped the coffee shop just as the barista noticed Dayne. “Hey,” she shouted. “Hey, that’s Dayne Matthews!”

Dayne took Katy’s hand and hurried her through the falling snow to her car. There he pulled her close, and she slipped her arms beneath his coat and around his back. “It breaks my heart, Dayne.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “But aren’t you the one who told me God never closes a door without opening a window somewhere else?”

She snuggled closer to him. “I don’t want a window. I want CKT to stay in Bloomington.”

“But what if—” his voice was as tender as it had ever been—“you make a movie with me and you love it? Your music directors are leaving, the owners of the theater want to sell, and we’re just starting out. . . . Maybe CKT’s time is up. Maybe that’s God’s plan.”

The possibility had crossed Katy’s mind, but she hated to acknowledge it. “Rhonda can run it. She looked so excited when she was asked to direct
Seussical
.”

Dayne rubbed her back. “I guess God’ll make it clear in time.”

They were going back to the Flanigans’ to bake cookies for the Baxter caroling night set for tomorrow. But right now Katy didn’t feel like cooking. She batted at a fresh round of tears. “We have until summer. For now I can’t think about it.”

“Because we’ve got
Oliver!
straight ahead of us, we do.” He used his best Cockney accent, and he widened his eyes in mock exasperation. “And I’ve got me a boatload of sets to grunt about.”

She laughed despite her tears. “I love you, Dayne Matthews. So much. You could make me laugh anytime.”

Dayne stepped back and did a formal bow. “My pleasure, m’lady. Just doing me job.” He opened her door. “Your carriage, madam.”

Katy was still giggling when he shut the door and jogged across the snowy street to his 4Runner.

The rest of the night, Katy stuck to her decision and didn’t think about CKT. They couldn’t talk about it in front of the Flanigans anyway. Instead they baked cookies and sang Christmas carols and listened to the brothers practice for their piano recital in January.

Despite the happy evening, when she was getting ready for bed that night, Katy replayed the CKT meeting in her head. So much good news. But in the end, none of it would matter or make a difference. Not if by summer’s end the theater was sold to a developer and torn down to build condos. She thought about what Dayne said. How maybe God was ushering in a new season for all of them. How maybe CKT had run its course. And that whenever the Lord closed a door, He opened a window. Katy agreed, even if she didn’t want to.

If the theater closed, the adults involved would find transition into something new and exciting. But a question had plagued her all night as she heard Bailey and Connor rehearsing their audition songs upstairs and as images of Tim Reed and the Shaffer kids and dozens of others flashed in her mind.

What about the kids?

John had been looking forward to this day for a month. Caroling had been Elaine’s idea, something her family did every year. Now they were half an hour from leaving, and the kids were in the kitchen putting plastic wrap over the last few plates of cookies.

The sounds of laughter, conversation, and singing filled the house and mingled with the smell of fresh-baked cookies. Kari, Ashley, and Brooke had been here all day making Elizabeth’s sugar cookies in the shapes of reindeer and Christmas trees and stars.

The atmosphere was something John would remember forever, and as Hayley walked to him, he made a mental note that next year they would do this again.

“Papa?” Hayley held out her Santa hat. “Can you help me?”

“Sure, sweetie.” He stooped down and eased the hat onto her head. All the kids were wearing them, with Cole and Jessie and Maddie grabbing at one another’s and playing keep-away with them near the Christmas tree. John smiled at his little granddaughter. “There, honey. You look perfect.”

“Know what?” She made the pronouncement slowly, deliberately. But every word sounded like a miracle. “I can sing ‘Silent Night’!”

“Good, baby.” He kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

John stood and made another head count. Ashley, Kari, Brooke, and their husbands and kids; the Flanigan family and Cody Coleman; and Katy and Dayne. Even Luke and Reagan and their kids had driven down for the event. And Elaine, of course. She was helping Jessie find her mittens, which she’d been wearing half an hour ago when she arrived.

“Hey, Dad . . . where are we going first?” Ashley looked wonderful, much better than she had recently. Devin was on her hip, and she wore a red scarf and hat.

“Knollwood Retirement Village—the big one downtown.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You look festive.”

“Thanks.” She rubbed her thumb across a dirt smudge on Devin’s cheeks and made a silly face. “Someone has to balance out the boys.”

It took fifteen minutes to get the kids and plates of cookies into the vehicles. Elaine rode with John, and he noticed something different about her. She looked happier than she’d been during Thanksgiving. He glanced at her as he led the caravan down the driveway. “Thanks for finding Jessie’s mittens.”

“Cole hid them under the couch. He said he thought it would be funny.”

John chuckled. He remembered the fishing contest with Landon last summer. “He comes by that teasing stuff honestly.”

“I can tell.” She smiled. “This’ll be fun. Everyone all together caroling. We never had a group this size when my family caroled.”

“I think we’re strictly a no-talent outfit, but if you say they want
any
sort of singers, we just might fit the bill.”

“The people at Knollwood have short memories and poor hearing.” Elaine’s voice was light and cheery. “You could sing the same three songs four times through, and they’d love every note.”

“With a gaggle of kids in Santa hats, it probably doesn’t matter if we sing a thing.” John leaned back and focused on the road. The storm from yesterday had let up, and the roads were as clear as the sky. A chilly wind swept through town, and with the snow on the ground, it was starting to feel a lot like Christmas.

They were quiet for a few minutes, the comfortable kind of quiet John had come to expect from Elaine. John flipped on the radio, and the haunting refrains of “O Holy Night” filled the car.

Elaine gazed out the windshield at the starry sky. “I love this song.”

“Me too.” John didn’t mention that this had always been his favorite, whereas “Away in a Manger” had been Elizabeth’s. He merely registered the fact and smiled to himself.

A mile from Knollwood, Elaine drew a long breath. “Ashley talked to me tonight.” There was a peace in her voice. “It surprised me.”

“I didn’t notice. What did she say?”

“She pulled me aside before we left and told me she was sorry for being so emotional Thanksgiving weekend. She was missing her mom; that’s all.” Elaine folded her hands, content. “She didn’t want me thinking she was angry that I was there.”

“Good.” John felt a warm sense of satisfaction. He’d been enjoying Elaine’s company so much this Christmas season, but always in the back of his mind he worried that her presence would be hard on his kids. Elizabeth had been gone for two and a half years, but there wasn’t one of his kids who didn’t feel like she’d died last week. He felt that way too. Just not as often as before.

“Jingle Bells” was playing on the radio as they parked and headed across the lot in the cold wind. John and Elaine waited near the door for the others, and when they were all together, they went in and signed the guest book at the front desk. The place smelled of fresh pine branches and cinnamon, and Christmas wreaths and decorations adorned every table and countertop. An enormous Christmas tree with sparkling lights stood in the corner of the foyer near a warm fire and a pair of overstuffed armchairs.

“Name of your group?” The receptionist looked at them over a tiny pair of spectacles.

John glanced at the ragtag party, complete with sleeping babies and toddlers, rambunctious kids, and more than a dozen adults. He turned back to the woman. “Call us the Baxter Bunch.”

“Very good. You can head into the dining room. The residents are expecting you.”

John and Elaine led the way, and sure enough, as they opened the double doors into the eating area, he saw dozens of residents in festive sweaters and Christmas clothes, hands folded neatly in their laps. A few of the women had newly done hairdos.

The moment the residents spotted the children trickling in, a buzz arose from around the room. Some of them sucked in an astonished breath, and others motioned to their friends to take notice. Children had come!

One frail old woman, probably in her nineties, sat near the front. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Cole and Maddie, who were holding hands in a rare moment of unity. The woman lowered her head and waved her gnarled fingers at the kids.

Maddie returned the wave, but she went to Brooke and half hid behind her. Cole, though, must’ve remembered the residents of the Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, because he went right up to the old woman and hugged her. She softly stroked Cole’s hair, ignoring the tears on her weathered cheeks.

John was touched by the scene. Cole would always have a special place in his heart. The first four years of Cole’s life—while Ashley was still figuring out how to be a mother—he had spent most of his time at the Baxter house under Elizabeth’s gentle care. The tenderness he showed now was familiar in a bittersweet way.

When their group was finally arranged around the piano, Connor Flanigan sat in front of the keyboard. He’d brought along his Christmas songbook, but the group’s only rehearsal had been an hour ago around the Baxters’ old upright.

Connor was a handsome kid with dark hair and blue eyes. In the past year he’d shot up six inches, and now he was nearly six feet tall. His voice was changing too, and sometimes even with the best intentions and training, it cracked. During their quick practice, Connor had expressed concern about it, and John had assured him they’d all be praying for him. Connor’s father had said something along the lines of what Elaine had said in the car: the folks at Knollwood couldn’t hear well enough to be critical.

Now Connor whispered to the group, “‘Silent Night,’ okay?”

John was pretty sure the kids in the front row didn’t hear the announcement, but they weren’t expected to add much vocally.

Connor began playing, and the music filled the room. As it did, several of the residents found handkerchiefs from their purses or pockets and dabbed their eyes.

“‘Silent night, holy night . . .’” The Baxter Bunch sang in unison in a key that was close to right. And all around the room the residents sang along.

John subtly reached for Elaine’s hand, and because of the closeness of their group, he was sure no one else noticed. It felt right, here with so much emotion filling one room, that he could connect this way with the woman who had become very special to him. John looked at the faces of the residents around him. He could only imagine the stories each one of them had to tell. Stories of lives lived and children grown and love lost.

And maybe—for some of them—stories of learning to love again.

Ashley shifted Devin to her other hip and kissed his cheek. She could barely sing.

The residents watched them with rapt attention, bobbing their heads to the slow, steady rhythm of “Silent Night,” happy tears streaming down some of their faces. In their eyes was a shining sweetness that said somehow the song had transported them back to long-ago Christmases when they were young and vibrant, surrounded by people they loved—the way the Baxter family was surrounded now.

“‘Sleep in heavenly peace. . . .’” Connor’s voice cracked as the note went high, but no one laughed. No one in the audience seemed to notice. This wasn’t a performance; it was a privilege to spend time with these older people, men and women with wisdom and experience that here in this place almost always went untapped.

Ashley stroked Devin’s downy hair with her free hand. The residents reminded her so much of her dear friends at the Sunset Hills Adult Care Home. She still kept in touch with Lu, the owner. Of the residents that Ashley had cared for at Sunset Hills, only Helen was still alive. She was less lucid now than ever, the short, brilliant moments of clarity with her daughter, Sue, forever gone.

When they started the second verse of “Silent Night,” Ashley focused on the members of the audience. At a far table was a couple—one of only a few in attendance. They had to be in their late eighties or early nineties, and they wore matching red sweaters. They sat side by side, their arms linked. Halfway through the stanza, the woman rested her head on the man’s shoulder.

Sad,
Ashley thought. Her parents would never share a moment like this. No matter how old her father lived to be, he wouldn’t spend these quiet, reflective years in the company of the wife he so dearly loved. Ashley glanced at her father and Elaine. They were standing close enough together to be holding hands. But Ashley doubted they were that far along in their feelings for each other.

And even if they were, she could do nothing about it. She didn’t want to do anything. Her father had a right to his own life. Landon had been helping her figure that out. When she talked with Elaine earlier tonight, she’d felt good. The woman was kind and pleasant, and in that way she reminded Ashley of her mother. But she was also very different. She kept to herself more and said less.

Still, she deserved Ashley’s friendship and respect, because that’s how the Baxter family treated other people. Every one of them missed Mom, especially at this time of the year. But a person couldn’t lie in bed the rest of his life and will himself to die of grief. Life was for the living. Landon had told her that also.

Next to her, Landon’s voice was rich and on key. Just being in his presence made her feel blessed and humbly grateful. Their relationship so easily could’ve wound up differently. It made her think about sweet Irvel, the resident at Sunset Hills who had most affected her. The woman had lost her husband, Hank, but she lived every day as if he were just down the road fishing with the boys. He might’ve died, but Irvel’s love for him, her belief in his presence, never did.

It was the way Ashley wanted to spend her life, loving Landon the way Irvel had loved Hank.

Landon seemed to notice she was thinking about him. He leaned in near her ear and whispered, “You have the most beautiful hair. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Hmmm.” She smiled through fresh tears. “I was thinking of her too.” Ashley focused on a woman who could’ve been Irvel. Dear Irvel had suffered from Alzheimer’s and could easily forget what she’d said from one minute to the next. She had a fascination with Ashley’s hair and commented on it sometimes eight times in an hour. It was something Landon had teased Ashley about when she had worked at Sunset Hills.

Devin had a pacifier in his mouth, but he took it out now and waved it at the audience. His joyful cries blended with the closing verse of the song, and several of the people clapped in response, delighted at his happy sounds.