Two Weeks: A Novel (The Baxter Family) Page 3

  Another quiet laugh. “I don’t have a car.” She adjusted her backpack. “I’m walking.”

  It was the one day Cole didn’t have practice after school. This time he stayed even with her. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  She slowed a bit and watched him. Like she was seeing him for the first time. “It’s not far. Just a half a mile or so.”

  “I wanna hear more about you. What brought you here.”

  For a few seconds she seemed like she might turn him down. But then she raised one shoulder, the way she had earlier in science class. Her smile reached her eyes. “Okay. It is freezing here. Not like home.” She shaded her eyes toward the sun. “Even with the pretty blue sky.”

  Because of you, Cole wanted to say. It’s only pretty because of you. But he stopped himself. What was he thinking? No girl had made him feel like this. He kept a steady pace, one hand in his pocket. Play it cool, Cole. Come on. “I have an idea.” He could feel a goofy grin coming over him. There wasn’t a thing he could do about it. “How about coffee? You know, to celebrate. First day of the semester.”

  They reached his Ford Explorer and he opened the passenger door. She gave a slight shake of her head. “Not today. I have homework.” Cole held the door open for her and she climbed inside.

  “We won’t be long. Maybe half an hour.” Cole hurried around to the driver’s side, slid in behind the wheel and faced her. “I think you should say yes.”

  “Why?” Her eyes sparkled. “Like you said, I don’t even know you.”

  “You know Mr. Hansen is the best teacher on campus. We both agree on that.” He grinned. “Also . . . I think it just might be the best decision of your life.” He winced. So much for playing it cool. A light chuckle came from him. “Too much?”

  “Definitely.” She laughed. “But coffee sounds fun. If we’re quick.”

  They went to Java on Main, one of the shops owned by his family’s friends—Brandon and Bailey Paul. Sofas and rocking chairs made up the lobby. Framed Bible verses hung on the walls. Cole set his backpack on the nearest sofa and they found the back of a short line. Five minutes later they were sitting side by side, angled so they could see each other.

  She sipped a steaming mint tea and he drank a hot chocolate. The longer he spent around her the dizzier he felt. He could already write her story. Good girl. Good family. Probably attended church every Sunday. He leaned his shoulder into the back of the sofa and searched her eyes. “So why here? Why Bloomington?”

  Her hesitation didn’t last long. “Better science department.” The shine in her eyes gave her away.

  “Right.” Now that he was here, alone with her, Cole was willing to take his time. “That’s supposed to be my answer.”

  “Yours?” She tilted her chin, clearly playing with him. “You mean you really do think Mr. Hansen is the best teacher on the planet?”

  “Maybe.” Cole took a deep breath. “I’m going to Liberty University in the fall. Premed. I need all A’s in science and math.”

  She angled her head. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah.” It felt better every time he talked about it. He was going to be a doctor. No doubts at all. “And you? A lawyer? Those negotiating skills you impressed the class with earlier?”

  Her laughter was as easy as her company. “Hardly.” She paused, locking eyes with him. As if this next part might be especially important. “I’m going to NYU in August to study art.” She hesitated. “At least I want to.” Her expression grew deeper than before. “I mean, I know I’m only eighteen, but eventually I want to open my own studio in Manhattan. They’ll be lined up around the block to get my paintings.”

  An artist? Just like his mom. A dawning came over Cole. “That’s it.” Again his voice was a little too loud. He lowered it a few notches. “I knew there was something familiar about you.”

  “Cole.” Elise’s tone fell to a whisper. “You’re very loud. Anyone ever told you that?”

  He liked her spunk. “I’m not usually like this. You bring it out in me.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I see.” Her giggle kept the moment light. “What were you going to say?”

  “Right. That.” Relax, he ordered himself. You have to relax. And talk quieter. “Okay . . . so you remind me of my mom. She’s an artist.” He brought one knee up on the sofa and surveyed her. “You even look like her.”

  “I do?” His statement seemed to make her uneasy. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “It is.” This time Cole remembered to keep his voice softer. “She’s amazing. You’ll have to meet her sometime.”

  “Sure.” Elise looked down at her hands for a long moment and then at him. The idea clearly made her uncomfortable. “How long have you lived here?”

  “All my life. Well, pretty much.” He found a more relaxed rhythm to the conversation. “A few years in Paris, but then here since I was two.”

  “Paris!” A dreamy look came over her. “That’s like heaven for artists. Maybe I will have to meet your mom.”

  “Yeah.” It hadn’t exactly been the best time for his mother. But that was another story. “What do you like about painting?”

  “Everything.” She looked like she’d just taken a breath of fresh air. “It’s like . . . I become the paint. All that I see and feel and care about goes through my hand into my brush and onto the page.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. My mom says there’s a lot to paint here in Bloomington.” He grinned at her again. “That’s it, right?” He was only half teasing. “The reason your family moved here?”

  “For my painting?” Her laugh died off. “Yeah, hardly.” Their eyes held for a few seconds. “It’s . . . complicated.” She glanced at her knees and then up at him again. This time fear seemed to color her expression. “We have family here.” Her voice fell flat. “Everyone thought it was for the best.”

  Cole nodded. He still didn’t know what her dad did for a living or how come they’d picked up in the middle of a school year to move here. But he didn’t need all the answers now. “Whatever brought you here, it was a good move. I’m sure about that.”

  “I hope so.” Her smile wasn’t what it had been earlier. “We’ll see.” She checked the time on her phone. “I need to go. I really do have homework.”

  “Okay.” Cole didn’t want the afternoon to end. But she was right. He needed to pick up a new baseball bat before practice tomorrow. They both had things to do. He dropped her off in front of a small single-story house with no cars out front. Whatever her parents did, they weren’t home yet.

  “Thanks, Cole.” She didn’t linger. Instead she stepped out and hesitated. She leaned back toward the car before walking away. “You’re my first Bloomington friend.”

  “Thanks.” Cole wanted to think of something clever to follow up with. But nothing came to mind. “See you tomorrow.”

  Not till he was home with his new bat did it hit him. He should’ve said she was his first friend from Leesville, Louisiana. He set his things down on the kitchen counter and spotted his mom out back. Sitting on a high stool behind her easel in one of her favorite spots—the porch overlooking his grandma Elizabeth’s rose garden.

  Cole grabbed an apple and went to join her. She looked like she was just wrapping up. A person could only paint in the winter cold for so long. She lifted her eyes to his and smiled. “How was your last first day?”

  “Mom.” Cole raised his eyebrows. “Come on. You said you wouldn’t talk about the lasts. Not all the time at least.”

  “Okay.” She set her paintbrush down and faced him. “Just here and there.” She angled her head. “It is your last semester of high school.”

  His heart softened at the thought. “True.” He smiled. “My day was great. Amazing, actually.”

  “No baseball?”

  “Not today. The guys got together at lunch. One of us is going to start practice every day with a Bible verse.” He leaned on the nearest post and turned to her painting. A grassy field, the Ba
xter house in the distance, and on the front porch a gray-haired couple in rocking chairs. The people in the painting were too small to make out any real details. In the foreground were numerous children and adults. All of which seemed to be the same family at different ages. He turned to her. “Nice.”

  “Thanks.” His mom stared at something in her work. “The older couple is the same as the one in every other part of the painting. Each of them at different points in their story.”

  “At first I thought it was a party on the lawn.” Cole leaned closer, studying the work. “So many people.”

  “All the same couple. Same children.” She sighed. “All of you, of course. Through the years.”

  “Mmm.” Cole loved his mom’s creativity. “What’s it called?”

  “Moments Gone.” She smiled at Cole again. “Life goes so fast. And one day you’re gray and the kids have moved on and you’re rocking on the front porch remembering all that ever was. A memory for every spot that makes up the land around us.”

  “I love it.” Cole took a deep breath. He waited till his mother looked at him again. “I met a girl today.”

  He watched her expression brighten. “A girl, huh? Someone new?”

  “Yes. She’s from Louisiana.” Cole tried to keep his expression casual. So this wouldn’t be too big a deal. But he could feel his smile filling his face. “She’s like . . . perfect.”

  “Wow.” His mom turned a little more so she was facing him fully. “Perfect?”

  “Yeah. I took her to coffee after school.” He still could barely feel his feet beneath him. “She’s an artist. Like you.”

  Warmth filled his mother’s eyes. “I’d love to meet her.”

  Cole nodded. “You will.” He took a bite of the apple. As he did he heard the sound of voices in the kitchen. The younger kids were home. Cole shot his mom a look. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’ll talk to Dad later. Like when the others are in bed.”

  “Okay.” His mom closed up her paints and followed Cole into the house. “You can tell us both all about her.”

  He waited through dinner until after his siblings turned in. Then he sat down with his parents and tried to explain Elise. What it was about her that had grabbed hold of his heart. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t put his feelings into words. Just that she was someone special, and that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Finally, Cole stood. “I need to get to sleep.” He looked from his dad to his mom. “All I know is Elise is the kind of girl I’m going to marry someday.”

  The slightly alarmed looks on their faces made him laugh out loud. “Don’t worry. No time soon.” He waved to them. “College first. But then . . . who knows?”

  He left them with that thought, the same thought he took with him to bed that night. Could it happen, love at first sight? Whatever it was with Elise, no girl had affected him the way she had. All in one day.

  Cole looked to the sliver of a moon in the cold dark night sky just outside his window. Is she the one, Lord? He heard no answer, no sense of affirmation. The idea was crazy, really. They’d known each other only one day. And they were just eighteen. But that wasn’t too young, right? They were adults, after all. His mind kept spinning, replaying every minute with her. The way her blue eyes felt against his. But even as he fell asleep, one very definite thought stayed with him.

  He couldn’t wait till tomorrow.

  • • •

  ASHLEY BAXTER BLAKE watched her oldest son head up to bed, then she turned and stared at her husband. Her heart was beating in her throat. “Landon.” Her voice was more laugh than cry. “What just happened?”

  He was sitting across from her in the recliner. “You mean Cole?”

  “Of course I mean Cole.” Ashley stood and paced to the other end of the room. She raised her hands. “Our son just met this girl and he’s ready to marry her.”

  Landon took a moment. Then he stood and came to her. When they were inches apart he put his hands on either side of her face. “Ashley. It’s okay.”

  “Maybe not.” She kept her voice low. The last thing she wanted was for Cole to hear her concern. She eased her arms around Landon’s waist and leaned her forehead on his shoulder. “Cole’s never like this.” She looked into his eyes. “He’s been the most levelheaded kid all through high school.”

  “Baby.” Landon stared all the way to her soul. “He still is. This is infatuation. The girl’s an artist. She caught Cole’s attention.” He kissed her cheek. “That’s all.”

  Only then did her heart rate slow down. She studied him, the love of her life. He always knew what to say, even now. “You think so?”

  “Of course.” He angled his head, kindness brimming in his eyes. “At least he told us. How many kids would do that?”

  “True.” Ashley brushed the side of her face against Landon’s and kissed him. “You always have the answers.”

  “Not always.” He kissed her this time, and it lasted longer than before.

  “Right.” Ashley felt herself relax. She whispered against his skin. “Just whenever I need help.”

  “Which is the only time it matters.” Landon took her by the hand. “Come on. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

  Right again. Ashley exhaled. Landon was so sensible at times like this. Cole’s excitement was nothing more than first-day thrills over the new girl at school.

  Landon was still leading the way to the stairs that led to their room, but he stopped and took her into his arms again. This time his kiss left her breathless. He ran his thumb along her cheek. “I love you, Ashley.” After a few seconds he started walking again. “Let’s get our mind off Cole.” He winked at her.

  Ashley giggled and then at the same time she felt herself blush. Not because the kids would know what they were laughing about or even hear them at all. But because Landon had a way of making her feel like a newlywed.

  Over and over and over again.

  3

  In the new house there was no way to avoid the room. In fact if Lucy Williams had been in charge of decorating, they wouldn’t have things set up like this at all. Especially now that they’d sold the old place in Atlanta.

  Bloomington was a fresh start for Aaron and her. No well-meaning friends at church asking whether they’d thought of in vitro fertilization or some special diet meant to aid fertility. No social workers calling to see if they’d foster a teenage runaway for a week in lieu of a baby. No one feeling sorry for them.

  Poor Aaron and Lucy. Trying ten years to have a baby and still nothing.

  Lucy crossed the upstairs hallway and stopped at the room. The nursery. Seven years ago back in Georgia they’d filled a bedroom like this one. Same crib with the pastel baby animal sheets. Same dresser with the untouched teddy bears that lined the top. Same changing table and pale gray rocking recliner. Same Winnie-the-Pooh curtains framing the windows.

  Setting up the nursery again here in their new home had been Aaron’s idea. A declaration of faith, he called it.

  Aaron used the room for his Bible time each morning. If infertility was a boat tossed about on a stormy sea, Aaron was the one willing to step out. Willing to walk on the waves. He believed to the core of his soul that God would bring them a baby. When the two of them prayed about it, Aaron believed so completely he actually thanked God. Time and time again.

  Without any signs of a child.

  Lucy leaned against the doorframe and stared into the lifeless room. The Atlanta house had been a ranch. Everything on one floor. Because of the layout, she could avoid the hallway that led to the nursery. But not here.

  And so every day since they’d unpacked three months ago, Lucy had to walk by this spot. Most of the time she didn’t stop, didn’t look in. Tried not to think about it. Especially given the job she was doing.

  Pediatric nurse at Bloomington Hospital.

  She stared at the crib and tried to picture it, a baby lying in the pretty bed. A nine-month-old pulling herself up and calling out for them. Mommy . . . D
addy.

  Ghost voices that would never come to be.

  A sigh made its way through her and filled the silence. God had either banned them from the child-rearing list or forgotten about them. Lucy couldn’t understand why Aaron still prayed. Still believed.

  The difference between the two of them was becoming a great divide. Lucy should have been angry at him for clinging to his faith after so much disappointment and heartache. But she couldn’t bring herself to be upset.

  Instead, she felt sorry for him.

  With their views on faith and fertility growing further apart, Lucy felt more alone with every passing day. The only glimmer of hope she’d found since moving to Bloomington was a friend she’d met at the hospital. A pediatrician who made the rounds and had somehow noticed her. The sadness inside her.

  A doctor named Brooke Baxter West.

  Lucy turned away from the nursery and walked downstairs. Thirty minutes till her shift began, and she liked to be early. Liked to walk around the unit and smile into the faces of the babies. Where she could imagine what it would be like if one day the baby was hers.

  Twenty minutes later, after a coffee stop, Lucy got off the elevator at the hospital’s second-floor administrative offices. Aaron worked here, an assistant administrator. The president of the hospital was quoted as saying Aaron was one of the brightest new faces on the team, and that they expected great things from him in the future.

  Lucy felt the same way about her husband’s professional future.

  It was their personal future that worried her.

  How could she feel hopeful about their marriage when she disappointed him every twenty-eight days? All the fertility tests on the market could never determine whose fault it was. Why they couldn’t get pregnant. But Lucy knew. It was her . . . it had to be. Hers was the body not making a baby. No matter how she prayed or ate or believed. No matter how often they tried.

  Her period came.

  She took slow steps down the hall toward Aaron’s office. She wore her white nurse’s scrubs, her name tag firmly in place. Her pale blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She held both cups of coffee in her hands. A peace offering for the way her discouragement layered dark clouds over their relationship.