Redemption by Karen Kingsbury
Authors: Karen Kingsbury
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, General Fiction, Family Life, Domestic Fiction, Christian fiction, Religious, Christian, Married People, Adultery
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looked up the church and dialed as quickly as she could. Kari would be home soon, and Ashley wasn't entirely sure if-
"Clear Creek Community Church. May 1 help you?"
Ashley resisted a smile. The church secretary always sounded so ... well, so much like a church secretary. She was a seventyish woman who would have given a stranger the key to her house if it meant keeping him off the streets.
"Hi, Mrs. Mosby. Ashley Baxter here. I have a quick favor to ask you."
"Oh, hello, dear." Mrs. Mosby was one of the few people at Clear Creak Community who hadn't made Ashley feel like dirt for coming home from Paris pregnant and single. "What can I do for you?"
Ashley held her breath. "Remember Ryan Taylor?"
"Yes, dear, of course." She giggled politely as if the effect Ryan had on women was not limited by age. "He moved back to town and comes to the evening service every now and then."
Ashley swallowed. She hadn't been to church since Easter, but she hoped Mrs.
Mosby wouldn't hold that against her. "If you don't mind, I need his phone number. I must have misplaced it somewhere."
"Oh . . ." There was a pause, and Ashley could hear Mrs. Mosby searching. "Why, yes, dear. Here it is." She rattled off the number and then clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I remember when your sister and Ryan were teenagers.
80
She'd bring him to youth group, and all the other girls would be jealous."
"Yes." Ashley smiled at the memory.
"I feel guilty for saying this-" Mrs. Mosby lowered her voice "but I always rather hoped Ryan would marry your sister." '
A smile tugged at the corners of Ashley's mouth, and she stared at the number she'd written down. "Yes, Mrs. Mosby. Me too."
"You know-" the older woman's voice was wistful "I think we all did." Then she hastened to add, "But I was happy she married a nice Christian man."
Ashley didn't answer that one. "Well, I'd better go." She suddenly was in a hurry to get off the phone. She wound up the conversation and punched in the numbers Mrs. Mosby had given her. Then she closed her eyes and waited.
,
Ryan Taylor lived in a well-appointed two-bedroom cabin on a ten-acre ranch. The place was minutes from the country club, less than a mile from the boat docks at Lake Monroe, and only three miles down the road from the house where Kari grew up, the house where the senior Baxters still lived. His career in professional football had paid off financially. He had a savings account he could never deplete and owed nothing on any of his material goods, including the ranch and his loaded silver Chevy truck. Someday he planned to build his dream house near the front of his land, but so far he'd had no reason to break ground.
The cabin suited him perfectly. He had never planned on having the privilege of playing professional football, but now that those days were behind him, he knew there was only one thing that could fill the decades ahead.
That thing was coaching.
When the assistant position at Clear Creek High School became available at the beginning of summer, he knew it was the
81
opportunity he'd been looking for. The opportunity to come back home.
Things weren't exactly the same, of course. Back when he'd grown up in Clear Creek, he was just one of the gang, a favorite son who was welcomed everywhere he went. Now, after his eight years with the Cowboys, people treated him like a celebrity. They stared at him in supermarkets, asked for his autograph at the movie theater, and wouldn't let him have a public meal in peace.
Sometimes he even wondered whether he might have made a mistake in thinking he could settle down in Clear Creek. But then it was still his favorite place on earth, the place where he'd grown up, where his mother and his sister and her family still lived. All his life he'd imagined settling down here.
He just hadn't imagined doing it without Kari Baxter.
He'd had plenty of opportunities to date when he returned from his stint with Dallas. Everyone had a daughter, a
"Clear Creek Community Church. May 1 help you?"
Ashley resisted a smile. The church secretary always sounded so ... well, so much like a church secretary. She was a seventyish woman who would have given a stranger the key to her house if it meant keeping him off the streets.
"Hi, Mrs. Mosby. Ashley Baxter here. I have a quick favor to ask you."
"Oh, hello, dear." Mrs. Mosby was one of the few people at Clear Creak Community who hadn't made Ashley feel like dirt for coming home from Paris pregnant and single. "What can I do for you?"
Ashley held her breath. "Remember Ryan Taylor?"
"Yes, dear, of course." She giggled politely as if the effect Ryan had on women was not limited by age. "He moved back to town and comes to the evening service every now and then."
Ashley swallowed. She hadn't been to church since Easter, but she hoped Mrs.
Mosby wouldn't hold that against her. "If you don't mind, I need his phone number. I must have misplaced it somewhere."
"Oh . . ." There was a pause, and Ashley could hear Mrs. Mosby searching. "Why, yes, dear. Here it is." She rattled off the number and then clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I remember when your sister and Ryan were teenagers.
80
She'd bring him to youth group, and all the other girls would be jealous."
"Yes." Ashley smiled at the memory.
"I feel guilty for saying this-" Mrs. Mosby lowered her voice "but I always rather hoped Ryan would marry your sister." '
A smile tugged at the corners of Ashley's mouth, and she stared at the number she'd written down. "Yes, Mrs. Mosby. Me too."
"You know-" the older woman's voice was wistful "I think we all did." Then she hastened to add, "But I was happy she married a nice Christian man."
Ashley didn't answer that one. "Well, I'd better go." She suddenly was in a hurry to get off the phone. She wound up the conversation and punched in the numbers Mrs. Mosby had given her. Then she closed her eyes and waited.
,
Ryan Taylor lived in a well-appointed two-bedroom cabin on a ten-acre ranch. The place was minutes from the country club, less than a mile from the boat docks at Lake Monroe, and only three miles down the road from the house where Kari grew up, the house where the senior Baxters still lived. His career in professional football had paid off financially. He had a savings account he could never deplete and owed nothing on any of his material goods, including the ranch and his loaded silver Chevy truck. Someday he planned to build his dream house near the front of his land, but so far he'd had no reason to break ground.
The cabin suited him perfectly. He had never planned on having the privilege of playing professional football, but now that those days were behind him, he knew there was only one thing that could fill the decades ahead.
That thing was coaching.
When the assistant position at Clear Creek High School became available at the beginning of summer, he knew it was the
81
opportunity he'd been looking for. The opportunity to come back home.
Things weren't exactly the same, of course. Back when he'd grown up in Clear Creek, he was just one of the gang, a favorite son who was welcomed everywhere he went. Now, after his eight years with the Cowboys, people treated him like a celebrity. They stared at him in supermarkets, asked for his autograph at the movie theater, and wouldn't let him have a public meal in peace.
Sometimes he even wondered whether he might have made a mistake in thinking he could settle down in Clear Creek. But then it was still his favorite place on earth, the place where he'd grown up, where his mother and his sister and her family still lived. All his life he'd imagined settling down here.
He just hadn't imagined doing it without Kari Baxter.
He'd had plenty of opportunities to date when he returned from his stint with Dallas. Everyone had a daughter, a
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