3
Some days John Baxter missed the intensity and energy of the emergency room, the urgency and desperation, the way patients had needed his expertise morning to night. He missed the life-and-death decisions and the way he’d called on God minute by minute to get through a single shift.
John would always be a doctor—one of the best Bloomington, Indiana, had ever known. But this beautiful April day he didn’t miss the work. Now that he was retired, he and Elaine had time for their family, their children and grandchildren. Sweet precious time. They had hours for long walks and thought-provoking talks and trips to their small downtown.
Maybe it was his age, but in this season of life he found himself appreciating the little things. The parts of earth that might not be there once he got to heaven. Sunlight shimmering on Lake Monroe or the morning wake-up song of the swallows and blue jays and robins.
The smell of jasmine growing outside their front door or the vibrant reds and yellows and greens of the local-grown peppers and cabbage and beets, and the way they looked spread across a dozen wooden tables at the farmers’ market—the way they looked today. He and Elaine had picked up enough for a new salad recipe they were going to bring to the family dinner at Ashley and Landon’s this weekend.
John stood at the kitchen counter sorting through a bushel of the reddest bell peppers he’d ever seen. “Nothing like an Indiana bell pepper.”
Elaine was unloading the dishwasher a few feet away. She smiled at him. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Buying peppers?” He winked at her.
“That.” She laughed. “But this. Having time for the farmers’ market. Time to make salad. The pace of life.”
“I knew what you meant.” He dried his hands on a paper towel and came to her. With practiced ease he slipped his arms around her waist. “Yes. It feels very good. Especially with you beside me.”
Their eyes met and held. No matter how healthy they were the calendar told him they wouldn’t have this season forever. He was grateful that she appreciated the time together as much as he did.
John was about to ask her about dinner when his cell phone rang. He stepped away and answered it on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Papa! I caught you!”
“Cole!” John covered the receiver and grinned at Elaine. In a whisper he announced the obvious. “It’s Cole!”
“Tell him hi for me.” She returned to the dishes, her eyes filled with a quiet sort of happiness.
“So, Papa, my mom and I are just leaving the high school and we wondered if we could come by your house. Just for a few minutes. I have a big favor to ask. Or maybe more of an adventure.” Cole’s excitement colored every word. “Something we can do together.” He grabbed a quick breath. “If you have time, that is. If not, I completely understand, but I wanted to ask you in person.”
John kept his quiet chuckle to himself. At sixteen, Cole was never at a loss for words. But then he never had been. Since he was a baby, back when Cole spent his days at his grandparents’ house, the boy had been a talker. And one of the people closest to John’s heart.
“I have time. Absolutely.” He raised his brow in Elaine’s direction. “Come on by. We’re just putting away groceries.”
Elaine nodded her response to the unspoken question. Of course they had time for Cole and Ashley. Elaine’s eyes told John that they could stop by whenever they wished.
The call ended and John returned to the red peppers. “Cole has a question for me. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Nice that he can just stop by.” She hesitated. “I wonder what he needs.”
“No idea.” It was another reason John didn’t miss the working world. Being retired was God’s way of letting him slow down and appreciate life—the small details and precious times like this. Being available for his grandson.
Five minutes later John was at the front window when Ashley’s car pulled up. She and Cole stepped out and headed toward the house.
“They’re here!” John waited a minute as they climbed the steps, then he opened the door. “What a nice surprise!” He hugged his daughter and grandson.
“Dad.” Ashley’s smile looked hesitant. She gave him an apologetic look, one she clearly didn’t want Cole to notice. “Thanks for making time.”
“Of course.” He ushered them inside. The house wasn’t large. Three bedrooms tucked down the hallway. A living room and kitchen. Just enough for Elaine and him. Nothing like the old Baxter home—the one where Ashley and her husband, Landon, were raising their family now. “Have a seat. Elaine made blueberry muffins earlier. Come in the kitchen. I’ll get you each a plate.”
“Yes!” Cole dropped his backpack by the nearest chair and hurried to the kitchen. “I was hoping. Elaine, I love you!”
Ashley laughed. “That boy is always hungry.”
They followed Cole into the kitchen, where Ashley hugged Elaine. “Mmm.” She pointed to the vegetables on the counter. “Looks delicious.”
“For dinner Saturday.” Elaine offered the plate of muffins to Ashley.
“No thanks.” Ashley smiled at Elaine. “Landon’s making dinner.”
Ten minutes later they gathered in the living room. Cole took the lead. “Okay, this won’t take long.” He dug through his backpack and pulled out a crisp white envelope. “We’re doing a class project in history. Sort of a heritage project. Where we came from, who we came from. Stories from long ago. That kind of thing.”
John shifted in his chair. “Interesting.”
“And the other day”—Cole took a small, square photograph from the envelope—“I found this.” He turned it to face them. “And I knew exactly what I wanted to do my project on.”
The floor of John’s heart fell away. The photo was of his first wife, Elizabeth, sitting on their old white sofa, morning sunlight soft on her pretty brown hair. In her arms was a sleeping, two-year-old Cole.
John felt Elaine’s eyes watching him and after a few seconds she stood and smiled at the group. “I’m going to finish up in the kitchen. Cole . . . Ashley. See you Saturday night.”
As she walked past John she patted his shoulder. Then she was gone.
Cole seemed to sense the awkwardness that had suddenly come over the room. He looked at his mother and then at John. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Not at all.” Now John understood Ashley’s hesitancy when she first got here. He swapped a look with her and she managed the slightest shrug. John turned to Cole again. “I’m . . . I need to . . . Well, truth is, Cole, I haven’t seen that picture in a long time.”
Cole rushed ahead. “Grandma gave it to me for Christmas when I was little. On the back it says, ‘I love you, Cole. Now and always.’ ” He looked at it again. “She has this amazing peace about her. In her eyes.” He lifted his gaze to John’s. “I really don’t remember her.” He paused. “I wish I did.”
“Yes.” Ashley looked from Cole to John. “I told Cole how the two of you had an interesting love story. How none of us would be here today if it wasn’t for what happened between his grandparents back then.”
John nodded. His breathing was back to normal, but his heart still pounded. He needed to talk to Elaine about all of this. If she wasn’t comfortable with Cole’s project, then John could steer the boy to another idea. An in-depth look at John’s early days as a doctor or how Cole’s great-great-grandfather had served in World War II, how the man had been one of the heroes at Iwo Jima.
Anything but his love story with Elizabeth.
Cole was still talking, explaining something about how his mom’s comment that day led him to think that his grandparents’ story would be perfect for the project. How he wanted to know more about the grandma he had loved so much when he was little.
Every so often John nodded. But he wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t because he felt uncomfortable about the project. It was because of the photograph.
Elizabeth had loved Cole with everything in her. Back then Elizabeth babysat Cole whenever Ashley worked. Their daughter’s life had been complicated and lonely and Ashley had relied on Elizabeth to help.
Before dying of breast cancer, Elizabeth made a copy of the photo, framed it and gave it to Cole. A reminder of those early days.
John knew the photograph well. He owned the original, of course. The picture was part of an aging collection in a leather scrapbook tucked away on the bottom shelf of the living room bookcase. In a place where the kids and grandkids could easily access it whenever they wanted to remember days gone by. Life when they were little.
The years when John’s first wife, Elizabeth, was still alive.
“You there, Papa?” Cole planted his elbows on his knees.
A cough and John found his focus. “Yes. Definitely. I agree.” He made eye contact with Ashley and then looked at Cole again. “It’s a great idea, Cole. Her story is very important.”
Cole pulled what looked like a school planner from his backpack. “Not just her story. Your story. The two of you together.” Cole opened the book. “I’m supposed to do four hours of interview research at least. Like, super-detailed.”
“With me?” John blinked.
“Definitely.” Cole looked at his planner and then back at John. “Mom says your love story could be a book. So that’s what I’m doing my report on. How you fell in love, what life was like when you first started your family. All the details.”
“If that’s okay with you.” Ashley was quick to interject. She raised her brow at Cole. “That’s why we’re here, right?”
“Right.” Cole chuckled. “Sorry. I meant to say if that’s okay. If you’re not too busy, I could come here and talk to you, maybe once a week. Like an interview. Get all the details, you know?”
“Absolutely.” John’s heart felt strangely heavy. “All the details. Right.” He remembered to smile. “I’d love that, Cole. Really. Let me get back to you tonight. Is that okay? Just to check my schedule.”
Cole hesitated. “Of course.” He closed his planner and returned it to his backpack. “I’ll wait till then.”
John was silent. Again an awkward feeling filled the room. Ashley seemed to sense it, too, because she took a deep breath and smiled big. “All right then. I’m sure it will all work out.” She stood and gathered her purse. “We’ll head home, and Dad, you can just call Cole whenever you know.”
For a moment John thought about recommending the other ideas, but he stopped himself. Cole wanted this story, not something else. He would check with Elaine and make a decision. But even as Cole and Ashley hugged him and headed to the car, John knew this was less about Elaine and more about him.
Whether it would be good for him to spend four weeks reliving his love story with Elizabeth. He returned to his chair just as Elaine joined him from the kitchen.
He lifted his eyes. “You heard?”
“I did.” She sat down across from him, a glass of ice water in her hand. “Want some?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.” He groaned and closed his eyes, lacing his fingers behind his head. For a while he stayed that way, sorting through the decision ahead. He opened his eyes and looked at Elaine. “What are you thinking?”
“You have to do it, John.” Her smile reached the depths of his heart, her kindness a tangible force. “It’s a beautiful story. All the grandchildren should know what happened with you and Elizabeth.”
“But four weeks?” He kept his gaze locked on hers. “Four weeks of talking about Elizabeth and me? Our story?” John stood and stared out the front window. He turned and faced his wife. “I don’t know.”
Elaine hesitated, but only for a moment. Then her hint of uncertainty became a smile once more. She took her time as she spoke. “Elizabeth was your first love.” There wasn’t the slightest bit of jealousy in her voice. “I meant what I said. Tell Cole what happened. Let yourself go back, John. You and Elizabeth, that’s part of the legacy of all the grandkids.” She held his gaze. “Remember, Elizabeth was one of my closest friends. I want the kids to know her.”
“Elaine.” John went to her and helped her to her feet. He pulled her into his arms. “How did I get so blessed to marry you?”
“I’m the blessed one.” Her eyes shone. “Life with Elizabeth . . . life with me. They are different. She’s your past. I’m your future. There’s room for both of us.”
For a long minute he wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.” He searched her eyes. “For understanding.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll tell Cole.”
John found his phone and called his grandson. “Hey . . . looks like I’m wide open.”
“That was fast.” Cole laughed. “I was just praying you’d have time.”
They decided the interviews would happen each Thursday. Cole’s lightest homework day. “Next Thursday it is!” John kept his tone enthusiastic.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Cole’s voice grew more serious. “I need pictures. Lots of them. I know you have that scrapbook, but I need pictures for my display.”
“Okay.” John tried to imagine the hours ahead, poring over photographs of Elizabeth and him. “How many would you say?”
“A lot. Maybe twenty-five. Thirty.” Cole seemed to think for a minute. “Even a copy of a letter or two would be amazing. Anything you think might make the project more interesting.”
John agreed to do his best and for another five minutes they talked about Cole’s classes. He loved history, but math was giving him fits. “You’ll get through it. You’re a hard worker, Cole.” He paused. “Just like your grandmother.”
“Really?”
“Definitely.”
“There you go. My first detail for my report.” Cole sounded like he couldn’t wait for next week. “This is going to be great, Papa.”
John agreed, but after the call ended, and after Elaine left for Bible study, John still wasn’t sure. The house was quiet as he walked to their bedroom and flipped on the light in his closet. It wasn’t a large space, but at the back, on the highest shelf, was an old cardboard box.
A box that held every letter Elizabeth had ever written.
Love letters for him, and letters of encouragement for the kids. Poems and a few journals she had kept through the years. A while ago, John had made copies of many of the letters and put together a scrapbook for each of their six adult kids. It was a time of deep reflection and remembering, a month when he almost felt like he had Elizabeth back beside him again.
Of course, there were a few letters the kids had never seen. Even now. Letters that spoke of a time between Elizabeth and him that their children knew little about.
John stared at the box. The last time he’d gone through it was before Elaine.
Spending time with the letters again meant letting Elizabeth’s words wash over him and settle into the places of his heart that belonged only to her. It would open him all over again to a grief so great he hadn’t known it was possible. The experience would be like ripping open a scar with the knowledge that this time around the hurt might never heal.
All so he could find a few letters that might work on Cole’s project. He steadied himself against the doorframe of his closet and made up his mind. The letters can wait, he told himself. Plenty of time between now and next Thursday.
The photographs. That’s what he could work on now. John walked to the bookcase and removed the album, the one that contained so many photographs of Elizabeth. He carried it to the same chair where he’d sat earlier. Father, I’m going to need Your help on this.
This is for My glory, son.
Chills ran down John’s arms. The voice was familiar. Often when John was alone, talking to God, he heard a response. Words that appeared at the center of his heart, deep in his soul. But this time John wondered if he’d heard correctly. Cole’s project was for God’s glory? How could that be?
You’ll have to show me, Lord. But until then I just need Your strength to get through these next four weeks.
The truth was this: Many years had passed since John had gone back to the beginning. Since he’d allowed himself the luxury of reliving those days when he and Elizabeth met and fell in love. Telling their story would take him there again.
And once there, John wasn’t sure he’d ever want to leave.