Reunion Read online
Reunion
Unknown
(2012)
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What Readers Are Saying about Karen Kingsbury's Books
“These books will touch your heart and stir your soul. They have helped me to realize that God is always in control!”
—Angela
“Life-changing books! I haven’t been much of a reader until now! I have fallen in love with all of the Baxters. Thank you for letting me grieve my mother’s death in a whole new light. . . . I have recommended the series to everyone I come across.”
—Peggy
“Karen Kingsbury’s writing moves me to tears and laughter. She really tackles hard situations with Christ’s love. Her inspirational words are such an encouragement to me.”
—Ellen
“I just completed the first two books in the Redemption series with Gary Smalley. Awesome, just awesome. Again, you’ve touched my heart. I laughed and cried. I felt their pains and their joys. . . . Thank you for daring to write about the tough issues that even believers face.”
—S.A.
“I have read every book Karen Kingsbury has written. Each one has brought me to a place of repentance in my life and the ability to forgive myself for things I’ve confessed to no one but God. Her books have given me hope and the assurance of forgiveness and the strength to look forward to what the Lord would have me do.”
—Karen
“If you had an official fan club I’d love to be the president! . . . I am so hooked on your books. My goal is to collect them all and share them with my friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers!”
—Peggy
“I can’t find the words to describe the emotions I went through reading the entire Redemption series. God bless you, Karen, for letting Him use your pen and hand and of course your heart to put words of such magnitude on paper to bless us all so much!”
—Darlene
“I loved the Redemption series and have shared it with various women in my church. Everyone has the same answer: ‘I loved it!’ We ALL laughed and cried. Your writing is an inspiration to all.”
—Rachel
“Karen Kingsbury’s books have made me see things in ways that I had never thought about before. I have to force myself to put them down and come up for air!”
—Tabitha
“Thank you for your beautifully written books. They make me laugh, they make me cry, and they fill my heart with a love that can only be God once again touching my heart and soul.”
—Natalie
“The words God gives you in your stories have such power to reach my emotions. No other author has been able to do that!”
—Diane
“God has truly given you a gift to write and not just write, but minister as well. I can feel His Holy Spirit moving in your books. . . . Thank you and please stay open to His leading and continue writing stories that not only touch the heart but help bring healing as well.”
—N.L.
Visit Tyndale’s exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com
Visit Karen Kingsbury’s Web site and learn more about her Life-Changing Fiction at
www.KarenKingsbury.com
TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Baxter Family Drama is a trademark of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Reunion
Copyright © 2004 by The Smalley Publishing Group, LLC, and Karen Kingsbury.
All rights reserved.
Cover photograph copyright © by Digital Vision/Getty Images. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration © 2004 by David Henderson. All rights reserved.
Karen Kingsbury photo copyright © 2009 by dandavisphotography.com. All rights reserved.
Gary Smalley photo copyright © 2001 by Jim Lersch. All rights reserved.
Cover designed by Jennifer Ghionzoli
Interior designed by Beth Sparkman
Some Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation,
copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream,
Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
Most Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc.,
7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920, www.alivecommunications.com.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the authors or the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kingsbury, Karen.
Reunion / Karen Kingsbury with Gary Smalley.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-8423-8688-3 (sc)
1. Adoption—Fiction. I. Smalley, Gary. II. Title.
PS3561.I4873R485 2004
813′.54—dc22 2004006001
New repackage first published in 2009 under ISBN 978-1-4143-3304-5.
To our families, who—
together with us and all who believe—
will one day be part of the greatest reunion ever.
And to God Almighty,
who has, for now,
blessed us with these.
Acknowledgments
In addition to our families and our wonderful support teams, we’d like to thank our friends at Tyndale House Publishers for sharing our dream and vision and helping make the Redemption series a reality. A special thanks to Ron Beers, Becky Nesbitt, Anne Goldsmith, Andrea Martin, Jill Swanson, Travis Thrasher, and Linda Gooch for their determination to make this series everything it could possibly be.
Also, thanks to our agent, Rick Christian, at Alive Communications. You were handed the reins of this project halfway into it and have seen it through to completion. Thank you for advocating excellence in every area involved with finishing this series.
A special thanks to Beka Hardt and Bethany Larson, director and coordinator of Christian Youth Theater in Vancouver, Washington, for inspiring a story line in Reunion that will lead to my next set of books—the Firstborn series. And thanks to Pastor Matt Hannan for inspiring me—through his sermons—to continue to let God’s truth shine through the stories I bring you.
Finally thanks to Almighty God for giving us a series of books that illustrate the truth that no matter what happens—there is redemption in Jesus Christ.
Chapter One
Elizabeth Baxter found the lump on March 7.
She was in the shower, and at first she brushed past it, figured it to be nothing more than a bit of fatty tissue or a knotted muscle or maybe even a figment of her imagination. But then she went over it with her fingertips again and again. And once more, until she knew.
No question—it was a lump.
And a lump of any kind meant getting an immediate check. This was a road she’d traveled before. If a breast-cancer survivor knew one thing it was the importance of self-checks. She stopped the water, dried off, and called her doctor while still wrapped in a towel.
The mammogram came three days later, and a biopsy was performed the day after that. Now, on a brilliantly sunny morning in mid-March, in the private office of Dr. Marc Steinman, Elizabeth sat stiff and straight next to John as they waited for the doctor to bring the results.
“It’s bad; I know it is.” Elizabeth leaned a few inches to the side
and whispered, “He wouldn’t have called us in if it wasn’t bad.”
John did a soft sigh and met her eyes. “You don’t know that. It’s probably nothing.” But his tone lacked the usual confidence, and something wild and fearful flashed in his eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand. “It’s nothing.”
Elizabeth stared straight ahead. The wall held an oversized, framed and matted print of a pair of mallard ducks cutting a path across a glassy lake. No, God, please . . . not more cancer. Please. She closed her eyes and the ducks disappeared.
A parade of recent memories marched across her heart. Ashley and Luke sitting side by side at Luke and Reagan’s wedding reception, reconnected after so many years apart; Kari and Ryan exchanging vows at a wedding in the Baxter backyard; little Jessie taking her first steps; Maddie and Hayley holding hands for the first time after Hayley’s drowning accident.
They need me, God . . . they still need me. I still need them. Please, God . . . no more cancer.
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside, and Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. “Help me, John.” Her voice was pinched, panicked.
“It’s okay.” John leaned closer, letting her rest on him. “It’ll be okay.”
The doctor entered the room, a file clutched beneath his arm. He stopped, nodded, and sat at the desk opposite them. “Thanks for coming.” He opened the folder and pulled out the top sheet of paper. His eyes met first John’s, then Elizabeth’s. “I have the results of your biopsy.”
A pause followed, and John cleared his throat. “She’s fine, right?” John’s tone sounded forced, unnatural.
The doctor opened his mouth, but Elizabeth already knew. She knew the news would be bad, and in that instant she couldn’t think about surgery or radiation or how sick she was bound to get. Neither could she think the unthinkable—about regrets or do-overs or things she wished she hadn’t done. Instead only one question consumed her soul.
How in the world would her family live without her?
* * *
The idea of meeting with the birth mother gave Erin Hogan a bad feeling from the beginning.
Their adoption attorney had warned them against it, but with four weeks until their baby daughter’s birth, Erin couldn’t tell the woman no. Sam agreed. Whatever the outcome, they would meet the birth mother, hear what she had to say, and pray that nothing—absolutely nothing—would damage the dream of bringing home their daughter.
The meeting was set to take place in thirty minutes at a small park not far from Erin and Sam’s Austin home, where they would spend an hour with the birth mother, Candy Santana, and her two children.
On the way out the door that day Erin’s stomach hurt. “Sam?” She paused near the nursery door and gazed in.
“I know.” He stopped at her side and ran his fingers over her arms. “You’re worried.”
“Yes.” The nursery was entirely pink and white: pink walls and a white crib with pink bedding, and dresser topped with pink teddy bears. It smelled faintly of fresh paint and baby powder. Erin folded her arms and pressed her fist into her middle. “Everything’s been going so well.” Her eyes found Sam’s. “Why now?”
“I don’t know.” He kissed the top of her head and studied the nursery. “Maybe she wants to see how excited we are.”
The possibility seemed like a stretch. Despite the warm March Texas morning, Erin shivered and turned toward the front door. “Let’s get it over with.”
The short ride to the park was silent, mostly because Erin was afraid to talk, afraid to speculate about what might happen or why in the world the birth mother would want to meet them now. Without the social worker or attorney or anyone official. They parked the car and headed toward a picnic table.
Ten minutes later a young woman and two small girls headed toward them. Next to her was a thin man with long hair and mean, dark eyes.
“Who’s he?” Erin whispered. They were sitting on top of the table, their feet on the bench as they waited.
Sam frowned. “Trouble.”
The approaching couple held hands. As they drew closer Erin felt the knot in her stomach grow. Candy was very pregnant, dressed in worn-out, dirty clothes and broken flip-flops. The man’s arms were splattered with tattoos. On one was a rooster with a full plume of feathers and the word cock in cursive beneath it. The other arm had the full naked figure of a woman framed on top by the name Bonnie.
Erin swallowed to keep from shuddering. She lowered her gaze to the girls, who were running a few feet in front of the adults. Candy’s youngest daughter was maybe two years old and wore only a droopy diaper. The other girl, not much older, had a runny nose. Both children had blonde matted hair, lifeless eyes, and vacant expressions. The look of neglect and emotional disconnect.
The same way Candy’s unborn child would look one day if something happened to the adoption process, or if Candy changed her—
No, God . . . don’t let me think like that. The couple was a few feet away now, and Erin could feel the color draining from her face. Please . . . get us through this meeting.
“Hi.” Candy gave them a look that fell short of a smile. The right side of her upper lip twitched, and she rubbed her thumb against it. “This is Dave. The baby’s dad.”
The baby’s dad? A thin wire of terror wrapped itself around Erin’s neck. “Uh . . .” She forced herself to smile. “Hello. I’m Erin.”
Next to her, Sam held out his hand to the tattooed man. “Hi.”
Dave shook Sam’s hand, but refused to look either Sam or Erin in the eyes. Instead he shifted his gaze from Candy to the girls, to the ground, and back to Candy again. He grunted something that might’ve been a greeting. Erin wasn’t sure.
For a moment no one said anything. Then Candy cleared her throat and glanced at her daughters. The youngest had picked a dandelion and was chewing on the stem. “Hey!” Candy pointed at the girl and let loose a string of expletives. “I told you a hundred times don’t be stupid, Clarisse, and I mean it. You ain’t a goat; take the flower outta your mouth.”
The girl lifted her eyes in Candy’s direction. “No!” She put the flower stem between her lips.
Candy mumbled something as she stomped over to the child and grabbed her arm. “Let it go!”
Fear filled the girl’s eyes. She dropped the flower and tried to back away from Candy. The woman released Clarisse’s arm and snarled at her. As she returned to the table she seemed to realize what she’d done, the way she’d behaved toward her daughter. A nervous look flashed in her eyes, and the lip twitched again. Candy managed a frustrated smile. “Crazy kids.”
Erin didn’t know what to say. She looked at her hands, at her wedding ring. God . . . what’s this about? She lifted her eyes and looked from Candy to Dave.
The tattooed man cleared his throat and gave Candy a pointed look.
Candy nodded and turned to Erin. “We, uh . . . we have something to talk to ya about.”
The knot in Erin’s stomach doubled. She felt Sam take her hand and give it a firm squeeze. “Okay.” Erin massaged her throat for a few seconds. “We’re . . . we’re very excited about the adoption. Nothing’s changed.”
“Has something changed for you, Candy?” Sam’s voice was even, but his words made Erin’s heart miss a beat.
Candy and Dave exchanged a look, and the twitching in Candy’s lip grew worse. “No, it’s just . . .” She looked at the ground for a moment. “We kinda ran into some money troubles, you know? Tough to get a job when you’re, you know, pregnant and everything.”
The instant Erin heard the word money, she relaxed. Was that all this was about? Candy was short on rent and needed a few hundred dollars? Their attorney had warned them against giving Candy additional money. Her financial needs during the pregnancy had already been taken care of, and Candy had signed a paper agreeing not to ask for anything extra.
But if she needed more money, then so be it. A few hundred dollars and they could all move on like before. Erin’s heart rate slowed some. Her baby’s f
ace came to mind, the smooth skin and fine features, the way she’d always pictured her. Amy Elizabeth, their first child. Everything would be okay after all. Everything.
Sam was nodding, looking at Candy. “That happens.” A fine line of moisture gathered along his upper lip. “Money gets tight for everyone.”
Dave shifted his weight to the opposite foot. He gripped the tattoo on his left arm. “What she’s saying—” he cocked his head—“is we need more money.”
There it was. Erin swallowed. In case they’d had any doubts, now the request—a request all of them knew was against the rules—was out in the open. She caught Sam’s look and gave him a silent go-ahead.
He stared at Candy. “Have you talked to the lawyer? I believe we agreed on what you needed.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Candy glared at Sam. “You try raising kids and being pregnant on that kind of money.”
Raising kids? Erin gritted her teeth. Candy wasn’t raising the girls; their pastor had confirmed that on several occasions. Candy’s mother was taking care of them. The fact that they were here now was purely show.
“Here’s the deal.” Dave pressed the toe of his worn boot into the ground and dug his hands in his pockets. He grinned, and Erin could see a gold stud in the center of his tongue. “We need more.”
For a while no one said anything. The girls were quiet, still playing a distance away. Finally Erin found her voice and directed her attention to Candy. “How much?”
Above them, a warm wind played in the trees that lined the park. Candy pursed her lips. “Five thousand.”
Erin had to grip Sam’s arm to keep from falling off the bench. Five thousand? The adoption had already cost them their entire savings; they could never come up with that much money before the baby was born.
Candy was saying something, trying to explain, but Erin couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t hear anything but the number.
Five thousand dollars?
The figure tore at the picture of the unborn baby, the picture Erin had created in her mind of a little girl cradled in her arms. She gasped for breath and turned toward her husband. “Sam . . .”