13
Cole had been quiet, and Ashley didn’t want to think about the reason. As the days passed, she blamed it on the depth of the story her dad was telling them, the way he and her mom had made small choices that led to actions neither of them ever intended.
But that Wednesday, Cole found her outside working in the rose garden and he confirmed her fears. He stood a few feet away and waited until Ashley looked up. “Mom . . .”
“Yes, Cole?” Ashley wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Her knees trembled a little, but she hid it. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, except . . .” He narrowed his eyes, like he’d never been more confused. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“Avoi—” Ashley straightened and set the clippers on a nearby stepladder. She peeled off her gloves. “Cole . . . I’m not avoiding you.”
“You are.” He wasn’t smiling. A long breath came from his lips. “Mom . . . I asked you two weeks ago about your love story . . . the one between you and my dad. And every time I bring it up, you change the subject.”
Ashley’s mind raced. What could she say? Never mind her talk with Landon. Never in her wildest imagination did she think Cole would want to know about her time in Paris. “Honey.” Think, Ashley . . . God, give me the words. She coughed a few times.
Cole waited for a long beat, his expression marked by hurt. “Tell me, Mom. At least tell me why you won’t talk about it.”
“I will talk about it. I promise.” It was the only thing she could think to say. “Let’s wait until after you finish the project with Papa.”
Again Cole hesitated. He sighed, and the sound was heavier than bricks. “Yes, ma’am. If that’s the way you want it.” He wasn’t being rude. But clearly he was upset. “It doesn’t seem like it would take that long. You could tell me now. Right here.”
“I realize that, Cole. But there’s an order to things in life.” Ashley worked to keep her voice even. “In this case, I believe it’s best to wait.” She searched his eyes. “You have to trust me.”
This time something must have clicked with him, because his expression softened. “Okay.” He took a moment, as if he needed to gather himself. Then he managed a slight smile. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Cole.” She watched him turn around and head back to the house. How can I tell him? What will he think of me when he knows the truth? His words rang again in her heart. Love you, Mom. What scared her most was simply this:
After he knew the story of his mother and father, he might say those words a lot less often.
Or maybe not at all.
• • •
THE SUNSET OVER downtown Bloomington stretched deep pinks and pale blues across the Indiana sky in a way that made Ashley thankful for home. She and Landon had finished an early dinner and were walking along Main Street, stopping to admire the window display at the art gallery where her paintings were sold.
A damp cold hung in the air, but Ashley felt warm with Landon next to her, his arm around her. They studied her most recent painting, positioned under the lights. “It’s perfect, baby.” Landon smiled at her and kissed her forehead. The painting was of a three-year-old towheaded little boy who looked a lot like Cole when he was that age.
“Mmm.” Ashley was still lost in thought from the conversation she’d had with Cole earlier. “Innocent.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I love most about it. Kids are only innocent for so long.”
Landon looked at her. “Deep.”
She managed a slight smile. “I guess that’s how I’m feeling.”
“Cole’s still pretty innocent.” Landon faced her and took her hands in his. “Everything okay?”
“Not really.” Ashley didn’t want to talk about it. “Let’s keep walking.”
Landon looked at her for a long beat, but then he led the way, his pace slow, thoughtful. The town was nearly empty that evening. They could take their time. “Want to tell me?”
Ashley filled her lungs with the cool air. “I’m not sure where to start.”
This date night with Landon was supposed to be happy. They hadn’t been alone like this for weeks. She wanted to hear about his job at the fire station, the dynamics of the team, the work he was proud of and the funny things people had said or done.
Anything, so long as they didn’t talk about Cole.
“It’s okay, Ash. Whatever it is.” Landon had the most calming disposition. He always had. He looked down at her and smiled, a smile that came straight from the center of his soul. “I’m here. No rush.”
“Thanks.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and exhaled slowly. “It’s Cole. We talked today.” She had no choice but to tell him what had happened earlier. She’d given herself away. The painting gave her little option. If she’d known the gallery would have that piece in the window they could’ve walked the opposite direction.
Now, though, she had to take it as a sign. The time had come to share her fears again. Even if the conversation would be uncomfortable for Landon. Even if it hurt him. She would have to tell him eventually.
She slowed her pace. “Cole asked me about his father again today.”
“Okay.” His tone remained easy. “That’s not surprising. Since you two are still interviewing your dad.”
“I know. But . . .” Her stomach hurt just thinking about the conversation she would have to have with her older son. “Today was different. He wasn’t only casually asking about him. He really wants to know. Like what was my story, and what happened. All the details.”
“That’s what he said?” Landon sounded surprised.
Ashley thought back to earlier that day. “Maybe not in those words. But he definitely wanted to know. He keeps calling it my love story.” She stopped walking and turned to him. “He accused me of avoiding him.”
Landon hesitated. “Cole?”
“I mean, he wasn’t rude. But he can tell, Landon.” She looked at the sidewalk. Then she found his eyes once more. “He knows I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears blurred her vision a little. “You’re his dad. I guess it’s weird to me that he even wants to know about some other guy. The man’s a stranger. He never cared about Cole at all.” She hesitated. “Of course I don’t want to tell him that.”
For a while Landon just looked at her, searched her eyes. His expression was beyond kind. Like he would’ve done anything to take away her fear and concern. “Is it his father you don’t want to talk about? Or your relationship with the guy?”
His words cut through to the place where Ashley had been hiding. Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she felt Landon draw her into his arms. All the shame and guilt and regret from her past came rushing at her like floodwaters, pulling her in, drowning her. “I can’t.” She muttered the words against her husband’s chest. “I can’t think about it, Landon.”
“Baby.” He smoothed his hand along her hair. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell him everything. Of course not.”
Ashley could barely breathe for the way the past pulled at her. “I was such a wretch, Landon.” She couldn’t look at him. Not right now.
“Isn’t that the point?” His voice was a caress against her wounded conscience. “I once was lost but now am found. Right?”
The sidewalk was empty, but Ashley didn’t want to have this conversation here in the open. She sniffed. “Can we find our bench?”
“Of course.” He put his arm around her shoulders and they turned at the next street. Down a ways was a small grassy area. Too small to be a park. There, up against a tree, was a bench Landon had purchased for her last year on their daughter Sarah Marie’s birthday. Ashley loved how Landon always remembered it, always found a way to celebrate it.
Even just between the two of them.
The bench had their little girl’s name and birth date engraved on a small plaque at the center. It was a place they came to talk about deep things. Whether any of their kids were struggling in school or if there was trouble between their family members. Sometimes they came here to pray, and other times just to sit in silence. Each drawing strength from the other.
They sat down and Ashley leaned close to him. “Thank you.” She still loved the smell of his cologne, after all these years. The way it reminded her of his strength and courage and dedication. Landon was the definition of a man, the way a man of God should be. “I love this bench. I always will.”
“Me, too.” The breeze from earlier had stilled, and the stars shone bright overhead. “Your life in Paris . . . it was how a lot of people live all the time. Life without God.”
The thought stayed with her. Life without God. Yes, that was why she’d done such foolish things. Why she’d gone to Paris intent on throwing caution to the wind and why she’d taken up with a married artist. Even thinking about it made her want to throw up. Life without God, indeed. “I made so many terrible choices.”
“You chose to have Cole.” It was the one truth she sometimes needed to be reminded of . . .
Ashley tried never to think about that awful day, the morning she sat in an abortion clinic about to do the unthinkable. God alone had sent her running out of the office. She’d come home pregnant and scared and all by herself, and her parents had loved her through every moment.
“How can I tell Cole all of that?” She felt cold. Her teeth began chattering. New tears sprang to her eyes. The tide of regret rising again. She looked up at Landon, her words a tortured whisper. “He’ll hate me.”
“Ash.” Landon kissed the top of her head. “Cole could never hate you. That girl you were then, that’s not who you are now. And even back then you listened to God. Otherwise Cole wouldn’t be here.”
The possibility sent a shudder through her. He was right. As awful as that time was, she needed to focus on the truth. Yes, she had been sitting in an abortion clinic ready to end her child’s life. But even then all she could think was that no matter how bad she might be as a mother, it wasn’t her baby’s fault. When they called her name Ashley ran out of the clinic. As fast as her feet would carry her.
Yes, God worked good out of all situations. Even that one. “I have him. That’s what matters.”
“Exactly.” Landon held her close again. “One day you might tell him those details, but not now. He’s still very young.” Landon was clearly in no hurry. He seemed to let his last words sink in. “Just tell him the basic facts. Tell him you’re not proud of the past, but that God redeems all stories for people who love Him.”
Ashley would rather swim with a school of sharks than tell Cole anything about his father. Still, Landon was right. “At least he’ll know.” She wiped her fingers beneath her eyes, sat up straight and looked at him. “How do you do it, Landon?”
“What?” His eyes shone in the light of the moon.
“Make me believe it’s possible. That I could even think about having that talk with Cole.”
“I’m your other half.” He worked his fingers through her hair and touched his lips to hers. Their passion was never more than a kiss away. Like always. “I feel what you feel.” He grinned. “Makes it easier to remind you of the truth.”
Yesterday’s anxiety receded. Ashley could breathe again. “I told Cole it would have to wait until after he finishes interviewing my dad.”
“Good idea.” Landon brushed his fingers over her cheek. “So Cole can focus on your parents’ story for now.”
“Yes.” Ashley sighed. More relief. Landon agreed with her on the timing. She searched his eyes. “You’re so good for me.”
“That’s funny.” Landon held her face in his hands and kissed her again, longer this time. His eyes were smoky when he drew back and smiled at her. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
• • •
COLE HAD A few questions for his mom—not about her love story, but about his papa’s. He was in his room, sitting at his desk going through his notes. The story was sad. But Cole knew that tomorrow it would get sadder.
His eyes drifted down the pages from their last visit. The thing was, he didn’t need notes to remember what his papa had told him during the first two interviews.
He’d remember the story forever.
On the first page he had written that Grandma Elizabeth was pretty. Very pretty. It was weird thinking of her that way. Trying to imagine his grandma and papa young and beautiful. But of course, they were. They hadn’t always been this age.
Cole read his way down the page, and found a note that caught his attention. Too much beer. Papa had drunk too much beer the night everything changed. Cole wondered if that was why there was never alcohol at their family get-togethers.
Not only that, but his parents never drank and neither did the families of his aunts and uncles. Was it all because of his papa’s experience that night? Cole added that to the list of questions.
Then his eyes fell on another note. Vietnam vet. He had the man’s name now. Wilson Gage from Indiana. His papa had told him when Cole called last week. Cole grabbed his laptop from his backpack. Might as well make the search now. So there’d be enough time to hear back from the man. That way he’d have his second source.
Cole thought it might take awhile to find him. Lots of grown-up men didn’t use Facebook, for one thing. He typed “Wilson Gage” in the Facebook search bar and four possibilities came up. Cole clicked the first one. The man was in his twenties. Wrong Wilson Gage. The next one was even younger. But the third one lived in Michigan. A quick look and it was obvious the man was a vet.
Maybe, Cole thought. The man’s last post was from three months ago. Odds were low he’d respond before Cole’s report was due. But it was worth a try. He opened a new message and kept his letter brief.
Dear Mr. Gage,
My name is Cole Blake and I’m working on a heritage project for my school. I’m doing my report on my grandfather’s story. It happened a long time ago and I’m learning all about it. He said a Vietnam vet from Indiana was an important part of the story.
Are you the Wilson Gage who lived in Indiana and helped a man named John Baxter in the 1970s? If so I’d like to interview you.
I’m not completely sure what happened, my grandfather hasn’t gotten to that part yet. But I wanted to write now, so we could make a connection. I get extra credit if I interview another person who was part of the story.
So please could you write back and let me know if it is you? And if you want to do an interview, I can get some questions to you. Thank you, and God bless you.
Sincerely, Cole Blake
Cole hit the send button and closed his laptop.
He yawned and returned the notes to his backpack. His parents weren’t home yet, but he was tired. School would come early. It always did. As he was falling asleep that night he thought again of the former soldier. Maybe the letter would encourage the man. He had to be pretty old now, and Vietnam vets weren’t treated very good when they came home from the war. Lord, if it would make that man feel important, could You please help him to look at his messages? Also, I could use the extra credit. Thanks, God. I really love You. The details of how the man had helped Cole’s papa were bound to come the next time they talked. Same with the part about what happened next with his papa, and how in the world his grandparents had managed to stay together through it all.
Cole could hardly wait for tomorrow.