Page 34 of The Baxters
There had been silence around the room for a minute or so. Then Erin spoke in a quiet voice. “I wish you’d stay.” She blinked a few times. “I’ll miss you.”
Luke was sixteen and not a fan of Ashley’s movefrom that very first moment. “You’re just trying to hurt us.” He muttered the words.
“Luke.” Her dad had caught Luke’s tone. “Ashley is figuring out her life. She isn’t trying to hurt anyone.”
That’s when her brother’s voice got louder. “Yes, she is. Ever since the accident!” He glared at Ashley. “We didn’t do anything to you, Ashley. Why are you acting so different?”
At that, Ashley had stormed out of the room. Kari had found her a little while later. “I’m happy for you.”
She’d sat on the edge of Ashley’s bed. “If this is what you want.” She had reached for Ashley’s hand. “You always dreamed about seeing the Eiffel Tower.”
“Yes.” Ashley had never been more thankful for Kari. “You’re right.”
Only one thing remained before Ashley could leave her old life behind. She needed to tell Landon Blake. It was a conversation she couldn’t have over the phone, so she waited until he came home for Christmas break.
This time the phone call came from her. She asked if she could come over to talk. Landon agreed before she finished the question, and the look on his face when she arrived at his house told her one thing.
He had expected this to be a reunion. Not a coda on their breakup.
There in his parents’ front room she made her intentions clear one last time. “I care about you, Landon.” She looked into his eyes. “But it’s really over between us. This isn’t… a phase.” She stepped back, putting more spacebetween them. “I won’t ever be the girl you loved… before the accident.” She had to get the words out before she changed her mind. “I’m different. Everyone says so.”
“You’re not.” He tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.
“I am.” She steeled herself against her emotions. “The two of us… it could never work now. Not ever.” Her pause was heavy in the room. “I’m leaving for Paris. And I’m not coming home again.”
In no time, she was having a going-away party and then her last night at home before her flight to France. Landon tried both nights to get her to stay, but she wouldn’t change her mind. And finally she was in a window seat flying to Paris, money in hand and four paintings in a suitcase in the belly of the plane.
Saying goodbye to Landon Blake had almost killed her, but she’d done it. She had convinced him that the two of them no longer had the important things in common.
Specifically, their faith. Which was still true.
And finally on that flight to Paris, Landon was the last thing on her mind. She was free, she told herself. No longer did she have to live by her family’s expectations. No one could force her to believe in God or follow someone else’s dream. She was following her own path, and nothing could stop her.
She kept that attitude and leaned in toward the adventure ahead as she set herself up in the flat her teacher had arranged for her. She met Celia the day she movedin, an American girl her age with a love for writing. The two grabbed coffee together a few times in those early weeks in Paris. Celia didn’t believe in God, either. They talked about concepts Ashley had barely thought about before.
Atheism and evolution. Enlightenment and freedom of choice.
“You need more self-love, Ashley,” Celia had told her. “This life is about finding peace and acceptance. However that feels right to you.”
Ashley wasn’t sure about the girl’s ideology. But in Paris, she took it to heart. She was ready to make her mark on the city, display her artwork in the gallery where she would be working and make her start as a serious artist.
But all those dreams fell flat Ashley’s first day on the job. Turned out the gallery owner wanted her for one reason—she could speak English. Period.
The next day she brought her paintings in, still hoping for her big break as an artist. Instead the owner took one look at her work and wrinkled her nose. Like a skunk had walked into the shop. “This is trash, Ashley.” Her accent made the statement almost impossible to understand.
But there was no mistaking her expression.
Ashley’s work wasn’t allowed back in the gallery and for a week she wondered if she’d made a terrible decision coming to Paris. Celia urged her to find another gallery, see if someone else in Paris was better atappreciating her paintings. In the end, though, it wasn’t the encouragement from Celia that made Ashley glad she didn’t take the next plane back to Indiana.
Rather, what kept her in Paris was a famous artist whose work was featured in a show at the gallery that weekend. A married man who swept her off her feet from the first time they spoke. What happened after that was too disgusting for Ashley to think about.
Never mind the fact that Celia was happy for her. The memory made Ashley sick. She didn’t have to be a Christian to know that what she had done those next few months was wrong. By every possible standard it was wrong.
The man had no intention of leaving his wife or keeping Ashley around. He didn’t care about her. She was nothing more than a pretty dalliance. A bit of American entertainment, good for a little while. Until he tired of her.
By then she was pregnant. Another detail that hadn’t mattered to the artist. He gave her an envelope of cash—not quite a hundred dollars—along with the address of a clinic and told her never to talk to him again. And so on her darkest day, the cash clutched in her trembling hands, Ashley waited in a dirty lobby for her name to be called.
For some unethical doctor to tear into her and remove her baby. Before the tiny child ever had a chance to open his eyes.
