21
John had just one more week to talk with Cole before the interviews would wrap up. He had organized his thoughts and a few more photos in anticipation of today’s meeting.
But he didn’t need them to remember what had happened next. It was a miracle he and Elizabeth had ever found each other again. And when they did, the heartache was so great it was a wonder they survived at all.
Cole and Ashley were on time, and both of them looked anxious for the final piece of the story. “So much I didn’t know,” Ashley told John as they settled into the living room again. “Where did you leave off?”
“I know!” Cole held up his notes. “And I don’t need these to tell you. Grandma was gone to that house, the place where she lived with other pregnant girls. And Papa was trying to figure out how to find her.” Cole looked at John. “You had just come up with a plan, right?”
His plan. Yes, that was the next part. John appreciated the way Cole cared so much. He took a deep breath and let the rest of the story fill his soul. And like every other week, the memories came to life. They consumed him, taking over his senses until he was no longer sitting in his living room, talking to his grandson about the past.
He was reliving it.
• • •
THE PLAN WAS simple.
John thought about it constantly. In class and in the library when he was studying and at home every night. Not because the strategy required so much work. But because John couldn’t wait to see Elizabeth. His arms ached for how badly he wanted to hold her.
He told no one about his intentions. He would wait until a week before Elizabeth’s due date, and then drive to Illinois, straight to the house where she was staying. No one could keep him away from her. By then her father would’ve been convinced he’d kept them apart. Everyone would think John Baxter had given up on Elizabeth.
Everyone, that was, except Elizabeth herself.
Whatever she was going through, whatever lonely nights she faced without him, she had to know he was coming for her. And not just her. He was coming for her and the baby. He had promised he would do what he could. Now he knew how.
School got out the end of May. The next day John would set off for Illinois. Once he arrived at the house, he’d wait until nightfall. Then while everyone was sleeping, John would find a way into the place. He’d wake up Elizabeth, and take her back to Ann Arbor.
At first they’d stay at the Wesleys’ house. Sure, the family had already told him no, but once they saw Elizabeth nine months pregnant and without any options, they were bound to change their minds. At least for a short while.
His plan didn’t stop there.
Their first day back in Ann Arbor, John and Elizabeth would go to the justice of the peace and get married. They could do a more formal wedding later. Then John would figure out where to take his wife and baby next. He would have to increase his hours at the pharmacy, of course. Which would make med school more difficult. But not impossible. John had straight A’s. His professors would work with him. They believed John would run a hospital one day.
Yes, certainly they would work with him.
John found a piece of cardboard and taped it to his wall. At the top he used a marker and wrote “154 days.” That’s how long he still had to wait before he could see her, before he could hold Elizabeth in his arms again.
Every day he crossed out the number and wrote one day less. He relished the times when 100 days became 99, and when 50 became 49. Every sunrise took him one day closer to seeing her. This time Elizabeth’s father wouldn’t be waiting for him. He would rescue Elizabeth and their child and they would start a life of their own.
Forty-five days. Twenty-two. Eleven.
Finally it was time to leave. Time for John to go get his family.
He packed a few blankets and pillows in case Elizabeth needed them for the ride home. And since she wouldn’t be expecting him that particular night, he brought food, too. Peanut butter sandwiches and a thermos of water. They could get more food on the road.
He tried to think of everything as he set out that afternoon. The house where she was staying was in Marion, Illinois—an eight-hour drive from Ann Arbor. If he drove fast he could shave maybe thirty minutes off that, but not much more. He couldn’t afford a speeding ticket.
John didn’t want to arrive until after midnight, so he waited until four that afternoon to leave. At first the drive was smooth. John played his eight-track in the car’s deck. Billboard’s Top Hits with “Never My Love” on it. In honor of Elizabeth. He couldn’t believe he was about to see her again. After all this time.
But he was nearly five hours out of Ann Arbor when his engine began to smoke. This can’t be happening. John pulled to the side of the road. His gas and temperature gauges were fine. So why was the engine smoking? He found a flashlight in his glove box, climbed out, and lifted the hood. It was already after nine o’clock. He’d be lucky to find an open gas station.
A quick look and he saw the problem. His oil pan was leaking. Which was maybe why the oil gauge wasn’t working. He looked more intently. There was barely an inch of oil left, if the dipstick was right. “Great.” He couldn’t drive far with so little oil. He could blow his engine, and then he’d be finished. Without a car, he’d not only miss his chance at rescuing Elizabeth and the baby . . .
He’d miss his chance at ever seeing her again.
As soon as the baby was born, if her father had things his way, the baby would be adopted out to another family and Elizabeth would be brought back home. Probably to some undisclosed location with some other friend or relative. If it meant keeping Elizabeth from John, her father would probably enroll her in some other school. Somewhere far from Michigan. Then Elizabeth’s parents could go on as if John had never existed.
Whatever it took to keep John and Elizabeth apart.
John turned off his flashlight. The highway wasn’t busy, and the few cars that passed him while he checked his engine hadn’t even slowed down. John slammed the hood shut, climbed back behind the wheel and drove on the shoulder to the next off-ramp. The sign above the exit said:
WELCOME TO BLOOMINGTON
John had never heard of the place. He drove his car another few miles along a country road, but he didn’t make it far. The smoke coming from under the hood grew worse and his temperature gauge showed that the engine was overheating. He couldn’t afford to blow a gasket.
Finally he killed the engine again. His heart beat erratically inside him. What was he going to do? He’d come this far and now if he didn’t get help he wouldn’t make it to Elizabeth. John thought about his financial situation. He had twenty-four dollars in ones, cash he’d made helping his classmates study for their medical exams.
Not nearly enough for any major repairs.
He was about to get out of his car and start walking when a light flicked on at a house thirty yards away. John stepped out. Let them be nice, whoever they are. He felt sweat gather on his forehead. A man stepped out onto the porch as John walked slowly up the driveway.
“Can I help you?” The man had a shotgun in his hand. “Or should I call the police?”
John froze and put his hands in the air. “I . . . my car broke down, sir. I’m not sure what to do.”
The man lowered the gun and chuckled. “Must be your lucky day.” He set the gun on a chair and walked down to meet John. “I was a mechanic in the war. Vietnam. Fixed everything.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Wilson Gage.”
“John Baxter.” The two men shook. “I’m trying to meet up with my girlfriend. We’re . . . she’s . . . she’s going to have a baby. I need to be there tonight.”
Wilson Gage raised his eyebrow. “You don’t have much time.”
“No, sir. Not much.”
A slow nod from Wilson. “What’s wrong with your car?”
“Oil pan’s got a leak. It’s too bad to drive.” John felt the weight of the situation. “I need a repair and new oil.” He glanced back at the road. “This time of night not sure where I’ll find either.”
“Well, John. I told you.” Wilson talked like the two of them were old friends. “You broke down at the right place.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Wilson found something to plug up the hole in the oil pan. Then he refilled it with an entire quart of oil. The exact type John needed. “How do you happen to have this stuff lying around?” John couldn’t believe his luck.
“I keep lots of oil around.” Wilson grinned. “Never know when you’ll need it.”
John almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his broken down car and he was dreaming. “I don’t have much money, sir. I’m not sure . . . how I can repay you.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Christians are supposed to help people.” Wilson eyed him again, a one-eyebrow-up sort of look. “Tell you what.” The man motioned for John to follow him. “Come inside and talk for a spell. Have a cup of coffee with me and Scarlett. Then you can be on your way and we’ll call it even.”
With a desperate urgency, John wanted to get on the road. But after all the man had done, John could hardly just leave. Better to get it over with. He followed Wilson Gage into the house and sat across from him in the living room.
“Scarlett, love,” Wilson called into the next room. “We got us a guest.” He stood and pointed to a chair. “Sit there. My wife will fix something to warm you up.”
John tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He didn’t want to be warmed by anyone but Elizabeth. But Wilson had been kind enough to help. He could at least stay and visit. After a few minutes Wilson returned with a pretty brunette. She carried two mugs and a pitcher of what looked like coffee. Wilson had a plate of cookies in one hand, the other one around Scarlett.
John stood out of respect. “Ma’am.”
“This is Scarlett.” Wilson stood a little straighter, his eyes warm as he looked at her. No question the man was proud of his wife. “The love of my life, right here.”
She blushed a bit and set the coffee down on an end table between the two chairs. She reached out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” John nodded.
Scarlett waved her hand in the air. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She smiled at Wilson. “Let me know if you need anything, my love.”
“Nothing the Good Lord hasn’t already given me.” Wilson watched her until she was out of sight. Then he turned to John. “So what’s your story, young man? Your girlfriend’s pregnant, living in another state. Has to be a story there.”
John felt the chains of anxiety tighten around his chest. He needed to get out of here. But since there seemed no other way, they both sat back down and John took a sip of his coffee. Then he told Wilson Gage the story. How he’d met Elizabeth at a dance he wasn’t supposed to be at and how they’d quickly fallen in love. Every detail right up to the drinking and losing control.
“Her father sent her away.” John gave Wilson a wary look. “He’s a Christian. Like you.”
Wilson leaned forward in his chair and pointed a finger at John. “Now wait a minute. That man’s not a Christian like me.” He shook his head. “No, no.”
“He says he’s a Christian.”
“That’s it.” Wilson’s eyes lit up. “See, not all people who say they’re a Christian actually are.” He grabbed a Bible sitting on the same end table with the coffee. “The Good Book tells us that. Not everyone who says ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of Heaven. Only those who do what the Lord asks.” He tapped the Bible again. “That’s the truth. Right here, John. It’s all right here.”
If the man was trying to sell him on Christianity, it wasn’t going to work. John took another sip. “Doesn’t seem very Christian for him to send his daughter away.”
“No.” Wilson paused for a moment. “No, it doesn’t.” He took a cookie from the plate and offered one to John.
John took two. Even though he wanted to get on the road, he was hungry. He bit into one and raised his brow. “These are amazing.”
Wilson smiled. “Scarlett can bake. She’s heaven-sent, for sure.” The man finished his cookie and then leveled his gaze at John. “Look, John Baxter. Here’s the way it is.” Wilson sat back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. “This girl you’re going after, the one pregnant with your child . . . do you love her?”
“Very much.” The conversation was getting interesting. “I’d do anything for her.”
“And right now? You’re going there against her father’s wishes.” Wilson seemed beyond perceptive. “That right?”
“Yes, sir.” John waited.
Wilson took another cookie and ate half of it in a single bite. “Pay attention, son. This is something you’re gonna want to remember.” He paused. “God gave you that young woman. And He’ll see you through together. But it’s gonna be hard. So hard you’re gonna wish you could die some days.” He leaned forward. “I mean it. That’s how it was for me in Nam. Wished I could die.”
John could imagine.
“But the whole time I knew I had the Good Lord on my side. Not just with me.” He gave his chest a few hearty pats. “But right here. Inside me. For believers, God’s Spirit is always there, inside us. Talking to us. Working things out for us.” He squinted. “Know what I mean?”
John had no idea. “Sure. Yes, sir.”
Wilson looked unconvinced. Then, so that John would have no doubt, the man went into a monologue about Jesus being fully God, fully man. How he’d come to earth and lived a sinless life, teaching people how to love and live the way God wanted. Wilson went into great detail about Jesus being betrayed and arrested, beaten and crucified.
“Now hear me.” Wilson leaned forward again. “Jesus did nothing to deserve any of that.” He hesitated, staring deep into John’s eyes. “Know why he did it?”
John had gone to church with the Wesleys when he was younger. He knew about Jesus on the cross. But he had no idea how any of that related to him. “No, sir.”
“For you, John Baxter.” Wilson pointed straight at him. “He did it for you. So you could get through times like the one you’re smack in the middle of right now. And so when this wild ride is over, you and that girl of yours can go to heaven.”
John was twenty-four years old. Heaven felt like it was a million years away. Right now he had to find a way to get through the next few days.
But they’d come this far, so John listened. He had no other choice.
After all, Elizabeth was waiting.