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Cole and Ashley were gripped by the story, that much was clear. John took a breath and looked at them. “I always hoped I might find Wilson Gage someday, tell him how things worked out and thank him for that night.”
“I can’t believe God led you right to his house.” Cole’s notebook looked full, like he’d taken more notes this afternoon than all the other days combined. “So Wilson Gage told you about Jesus. Even though he didn’t know you.” Cole positioned his pen over the paper again. “You can’t stop there, Papa. What happened next?”
“Yes, please, Dad.” Ashley had tears in her eyes. “I never knew any of this. We have time.”
John couldn’t stop the story if he’d wanted to. “I can still see Wilson, sitting across from me, telling me information he thought I wanted to hear.” He shook his head. “I was so stubborn back then.”
He took a drink of water and once more the years melted away.
• • •
WILSON KEPT TALKING.
Whatever compelled the man to think the young stranger in his house needed his words of wisdom, John didn’t know. But now that he’d told John about Jesus, he had more to say.
“You think you’ve got trouble now.” Wilson picked up the Bible and stared at it a moment. “This whole life here, it’s just earth, John. Just earth. The great adventure begins the day you take your last breath.” He pointed at John again. “That’s when all the suffering here will make sense.”
“Yes, sir.” John finished his coffee and took another cookie. The man was looking at him like he was waiting for John to say something. Or maybe hoping John would make a promise to believe in God. John swallowed a bite of the cookie. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Wilson cocked his head and scrutinized John for a long few seconds. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s just . . . No, sir. I’m sorry. I never could believe in a God who took away my parents when I was so young.” John didn’t want to get into a debate, but he had to be honest. “Not just that. Forgive me, but . . . people do a lot of terrible things in the name of religion. That’s what I’ve seen, anyway.”
Wilson leaned back in his chair and rocked for a while. The whole time he kept his eyes on John. Finally he drew a slow breath. “I’m going to ask God to show you just how much you need Him. Because hear me on this . . .”
John listened.
“You’re right.” Wilson set his half-eaten cookie on the plate and narrowed his eyes. “Parents die, yes. And people do a lot of terrible things. But God’s bigger than religion. He’s bigger than even our greatest losses.” He nodded once. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, sir.” John needed to get going. At this point, he’d say anything for the chance to leave.
Wilson set the Bible in his lap. “All right. I’m gonna pray for you, John. That you and that scared pregnant girl of yours will get married and find faith in Jesus. Faith that will see you through every hard thing ahead right on into eternity.” He grinned. “And in return that God will give you a marriage and family so beautiful all the world will want to know your secret.”
That sounded pretty good, John had to admit. He still didn’t believe. Never would. But at this point he wasn’t sure what else to do but agree. “Uh . . . yes, sir. Thank you.”
Wilson folded his hands on the Bible, bowed his head and prayed. John couldn’t remember every word Wilson said to God that day, but the part that stood out was that last line. That God would give Elizabeth and him a marriage and family so beautiful all the world would want to know their secret.
They were about to stand when Wilson jabbed his pointer finger in the air. “One last thing.”
John lowered himself back to his seat. “Yes, sir?”
“You don’t believe me. I can see that, no use telling me different.” Wilson didn’t look upset by the fact. “But every time you think about this day, I want you to remember something.” His voice dropped a notch. Like he was speaking straight to John’s conscience. “Only God could’ve worked it out so you’d break down in front of my house. Someone who knows how to fix an oil pan and has your kind of oil sittin’ around.”
The slightest chill ran down John’s arms.
“Someone who could tell you about the one thing you need a whole lot more than oil.” Wilson leaned closer and patted John’s knee. “Oil will take you down the road, John. But Jesus will take you all the way home. Know what I mean?”
John still had no intention of changing his mind about God. Right here in some stranger’s living room. But he nodded, anyway. “Yes, sir.” If he didn’t get on the highway, he would miss his chance to see Elizabeth tonight.
Before he left, John thanked Scarlett and Wilson for the snack and the conversation, and especially for fixing his car. Wilson said one more thing to John before he pulled away—his car good as new.
“Don’t forget me now!” Wilson smiled. “You hear?”
“I won’t.” This time John was serious. The man couldn’t convince him to be a Christian, but John would definitely remember this night. It was too strange and fortuitous not to remember.
But once he hit the road, John turned on the music and thought only about Elizabeth. The unusual encounter with Wilson Gage grew more distant with every mile. And sometime around two o’clock that morning John pulled up across the street from the house where Elizabeth was staying. He flipped off the lights and killed his engine.
It looked like any other house on the quiet street. Two stories, gabled windows, shutters and a front porch. No one would know that behind those walls was a houseful of girls who had no choice but to give up their babies. Girls sent away by parents too concerned about appearances to love their daughters through the most difficult time of their lives.
John gritted his teeth and looked for the best way in. Like Wilson, the man of the house might have a gun. In which case John had to be very quiet. If the man woke up and mistook him for a burglar, things could take a terrible turn.
Take your time, he told himself. You’ve come this far. No need to rush. He stepped out of his car and padded silently across the lawn. Every light was off. They were all sleeping. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.
John studied the situation. The front door would be too obvious. He crept along the side of the house and made his way to the back. A cement porch ran across it. Another good sign. No creaking boards with cement. John walked up the steps and with the slightest movement, he tried the door.
In the silence of the night, the squeaking handle sounded like clanging pans. John could do nothing but continue. He’d come too far to stop now. Besides, he’d rather face a shotgun than miss the chance to see Elizabeth. The door wasn’t locked, so John made his way into the house and—without making a sound—he shut the door behind him.
Now to find Elizabeth.
His heart pounded so loud he was sure it would wake up everyone. Be calm. You can do this, he told himself. One step at a time. He waited a few minutes while his eyes adjusted to the dark. All the girls in the house were pregnant. Asleep in their beds they were bound to look much the same.
Which was why it was a crazy stroke of luck when John peered into the first room and saw her. The space was small, with only one bed. But he knew the sleeping figure under the sheets was her for one reason. His photo was in a frame on the dresser.
She was here! His Elizabeth was right here in front of him. John couldn’t draw a breath until he closed her bedroom door behind him. Then he waited. One minute, two. Until he was sure no one had woken up. When he was convinced, he moved to the side of her bed.
Beneath the sheets, lying on her side, Elizabeth didn’t look pregnant. Her face was soft and young, like that of a girl still in high school. John stared at her for a moment. She was so beautiful. He would never love anyone the way he loved her. He bent close and put his hand on her thin shoulder. Her flannel nightgown and long dark hair made her look like a porcelain doll.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as quietly as he could. “Elizabeth . . . it’s me, John.”
It took a minute, but gradually her eyes opened. They fluttered a few times and then they grew suddenly wide. She started to cry out, but he gently put his hand over her mouth. “Shhhh.” He brought his face close to hers. “I snuck in. No one knows I’m here.”
She was still waking up, still trying to make sense of his presence. “How . . . how did you know where to . . .” Her voice was a whisper now. She was awake enough to understand what was happening. “John . . .” Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed them shut. She shook her head and buried her face in the pillow.
At first John thought she was merely overwhelmed with seeing him. But after a minute, alarm coursed through him. “Elizabeth, what is it? What’s wrong?”
A series of sobs racked her body and she kept her face turned away from him. Only after several minutes did she look at him. The pain in her eyes scared him more than anything ever had. “I . . . I already had the baby.”
“What?” John felt the floor fall away. The room seemed to start spinning and he couldn’t draw a breath. What had she said? She’d already had the baby? He looked around the room, desperate to see a crib or a bassinet, some sign of their child. “Elizabeth, what do you mean? You’re not due for another week, I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” He looked around once more. “Where’s the baby?”
Elizabeth shook her head. They were still talking in whispers, still trying to control their emotions. The tears came harder until it looked like she would pass out from the grief that consumed her. “They . . . they took him. We had . . . a boy, John. He was perfect.”
She’d had a boy. A son. They had a son. Their firstborn child was a boy. But John was too late, and now the baby was gone. He was gone forever.
John’s heart raced so fast, he could barely think. He felt sick to his stomach, all the room blurred, the walls collapsing in on them. They had a little boy. So where was he? John helped Elizabeth sit up and he searched her eyes. “Who took him?”
“The couple. They were from overseas, John. Missionaries.” She covered her face as another run of sobs shook her small frame. “I couldn’t stop them. My father made . . . he made the arrangements.”
Arrangements.
John stood and walked silently to the window. Arrangements? Like a funeral? And that’s what this was. A funeral for their little boy. John couldn’t exhale, couldn’t think, but it didn’t matter. He had to know where the child was now. He returned to Elizabeth and sat on the edge of her bed. “We can get him back. We have to.”
“No,” she whispered. She shook her head. “I had him two weeks ago, John. The couple is back overseas by now.” Her face twisted into a sort of grief John had never seen before. “He was so beautiful. His face and eyes. John . . . I got to hold him for an entire hour.” She squeezed her eyes shut and worked to catch her breath. “He looked . . . like you, John.”
His son had looked like him. The baby boy he would never know, never hold. Never teach to read or ride a bike. His son had looked like him, but now he was gone. The tears began to come for John, too. How could this have happened? How could her father have been so wicked?
The shock was wearing off, the reality strangling the life from them both. He pulled Elizabeth to his chest and held her, just held her and rocked her while they both quietly wept. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. If I had only known.” He clung to her. “I’m so sorry.”
They stayed that way for an hour, grieving over the futility of what had happened. When they were finally able to see through their tears, John asked her about the delivery. Other than the fact that the baby had come early, everything had gone the way she expected.
“I wish I could’ve been here with you.” His anger was only beginning to grow inside him. Her father had done this to them, and one day he would pay. “I should’ve been beside you.”
She nodded. “Every time I closed my eyes, whenever the pain was too strong, I thought of you. I knew . . . you would’ve been here. You wanted to be here.”
And if he’d been here, they would still have their son.
Elizabeth explained that she had been weak after the baby was born, so her father made plans with her houseparents to pick her up a few days from now. John shuddered at the news. If he’d waited even a little longer . . . or if Wilson Gage hadn’t been there to fix his car, he could’ve missed her.
The fact stirred an urgency in John. “We need to leave. Now, Elizabeth. Before your houseparents wake up. Otherwise they’ll call your father, and he’ll stop us.”
Fear darkened her eyes. “Okay.”
A thought hit him. “You still want to come with me, right?” He kept his voice lower than a whisper. With tender care, he put his hands on either side of her face and tried to see the answer for himself. “You still love me?”
“Of course.” She leaned her forehead against his. “It’s just . . . Where will we live, John? What’s going to happen to us?”
“I have a plan. You can trust me, okay?” John moved his face back a bit so he could see into her eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth. I want to marry you. As soon as possible.”
With every word he spoke, her fear seemed to lift. Her voice was barely audible. “I wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know when you’d come back or if you still wanted to . . .” She blinked away new tears. “I wasn’t sure, John.”
“I’ll never leave you. Never again.” He told her how he had counted down the days and how he had barely made it because of his car. “I broke down in front of this guy’s house. He fixed my oil pan, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” The other details of his encounter with Wilson Gage could wait.
They weren’t important now.
“Marry me, Elizabeth. Let me take you back to Ann Arbor, and then as soon as you’re feeling well enough, we can go to a justice of the peace. We’ll have lots of children, and I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” He ran his thumb over her velvety cheek. “Will you marry me?”
For the first time since he’d crept through her bedroom door, the hint of a smile played on her lips. She whispered her answer. “I will. As soon as we can, yes.”
John felt his world right itself, just a little. “And one day . . . one day we’ll find our baby boy.”
It was four in the morning when they packed her things and quietly set out. John took her to the Wesleys and the next evening the couple met with them and agreed to a plan. John and Elizabeth would get married and live there in John’s room, on one condition.
They had to tell Elizabeth’s parents where they were.
Neither of them wanted to make that call, but the next day John took the lead. He called her parents and told them what he’d done, that Elizabeth was safe with him. Then he advised them that the following Monday the two of them were getting married. On their own. No parents allowed.
The first time he’d spoken with Elizabeth’s father, John had been nervous, embarrassed, and certain the man hated him. This time, John didn’t care. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t go back and protect Elizabeth’s innocence. But he could take care of her from this point on.
It was no surprise that Elizabeth’s parents didn’t protest not being invited to the wedding. Elizabeth’s father shouted at John when he heard the news. “You have no right to take my daughter without my permission!”
“She’s an adult, sir. This is what she wants.” John managed to keep his tone calm. His mind was made up and so was Elizabeth’s. There was nothing her parents could do to keep them apart.
Her father yelled and screamed and said lots of things John didn’t really focus on. Bottom line was this: Elizabeth was disowned. Neither she nor John were allowed back to the house where she grew up ever again.
They got married that Monday in a ceremony that was short and sweet. Elizabeth wore an outfit she’d been given by the houseparents while she was pregnant. A flowing white gauzy dress with long sleeves that flared at the ends. John wore a suit, and the justice of the peace took their picture.
A photograph John would keep forever.
It wasn’t until three weeks later that the Wesleys sat them down for another meeting. Space was tight. Money tighter. They gave John and Elizabeth a week to find somewhere else to live.
That afternoon John drove Elizabeth to Independence Lake Park. The irony hit John hard as they pulled in. Independence. They were hardly independent, now that they were about to be homeless. And it was there—in a parking spot overlooking the lake—that John remembered everything Wilson Gage had told him.
He shared the story with Elizabeth, and the whole time she never looked away, never did anything but nod and wipe an occasional tear. At the end of the story Elizabeth said only this: “I think he’s right, John. We can’t do this without God’s help.”
And suddenly, John could feel his heart open up for the very first time. Yes, they needed God. They would never survive the coming week, let alone a lifetime together, unless they had the help of God Almighty. A God that John believed in now, because without His help John’s car would’ve broken down somewhere else.
It was as if God Himself cared enough about John Baxter to let the oil leak out of his car at exactly the right time. And to place him right in the living room of a man whose story would change the course of John’s life forever.
There in the car that day at the park, John and Elizabeth asked Jesus to forgive them for what they’d done, for going against His ways and for making such a mess of things. They gave their lives to the Lord and asked Him that one day they might find the son they’d lost.
Then John prayed one more thing.
That God would give Elizabeth and him a marriage and family so beautiful all the world would want to know their secret.