Page 33 of The Baxters
Nursing had never been Ashley’s thing. Her body didn’t adjust to it. Six weeks was all she could handle, and then she moved on. Since she was out a lot, painting or with friends, the powdered formula had been super convenient.
Ashley carried the bottle to the living room and took Cole and his blanket from her mother. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
“Ashley… can I talk to you?” Her mother had looked worried all day. Whatever was on her mind, it clearly wasn’t good.
“Sure.” Ashley bounced a little as she put Cole on her hip. “Everything okay?”
Her mother sighed. “I don’t know. I hope so.” She bit her lip. “Your father says Luke’s in one of his moods. I’m just asking if you can please… be nice to him today. So nothing happens.”
Ashley felt her heart begin to pound. “Me? You wantmeto be nice?” Cole started to cry again. “Shh, Cole. It’s okay.” Ashley kissed the side of her baby’s face and glared at her mom. “I’m not the problem here, Mother. Luke is the problem.”
“I know… I’m just asking if—”
“Ask Luke.” Heat built up in Ashley’s cheeks. How could the situation with her brother be her fault? “He’s the one who barely talks to me, the one ashamed of me ever since I came home. And what about Cole?” She worked to keep her tone even. So her baby wouldn’t get more upset. “Luke hasn’t held Cole once. Did you know that?”
Her mother froze. “Ashley… you’ve never told me that.”
“Why bother?” She ran her hand along the back of Cole’s head. “He’s the golden boy. I’m the black sheep. Why should he even care about Cole?”
“That’s enough.” Her mother took a step back. “You and Luke need to work this out. Your father and I won’t have the two of you acting this way toward each other.”
As her mother started to leave, Cole cried louder and held his arms out to her. Not to Ashley. As if he wanted her mother—not her—to feed him his bottle. Her mother didn’t seem to notice as she headed upstairs to finish getting ready.
“Well, little Cole, sorry to tell you.” Ashley sat in the glider and gave her son the bottle. She positioned the blanket over her dress so it would catch any drips. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Ashley set the glider in motion. Her little boy’s eyes met hers and Ashley felt a twinge of guilt. “Mommy’s just kidding.” She kissed his velvety soft forehead. “I know you love me.”
Cole never blinked, never looked away. As if he were telling her not to leave him so much, not to pass on the job of raising him the way she did too often. Or maybe he was only confused. They were here at the Baxter house, so why was Ashley here, too?
Whatever it was, Ashley felt herself relax. Moments like this she loved being a mom. She might even be good at it someday, the way her mother had always been. Shenuzzled her cheek against his. “I love you, Cole. I’m trying to be a good mommy,” she whispered near his face, brushing his nose with hers while he drank. “Do you know that, baby? I really do love you?”
Cole gradually closed his eyes and his sucking slowed. What had she done to deserve such a precious little boy? If God was real, then He should’ve struck her dead long before Cole was even conceived. That’s what she deserved.
He never should’ve let her survive the accident.
Ashley closed her eyes and the memories returned.
Not long after the accident, Ashley had suddenly known what she was going to do with some of her settlement money.
She was going to move to Paris.
It had been her dream since she was in fourth grade, and now she would have the finances to make it a reality. If Jefferson were alive, that’s what he would tell her to do. Why be some second-rate painter in a community college art class when she could take her talent to Paris and become a legitimate artist?
Jefferson had lost his chance to pursue his dreams. But Ashley’s were just beginning.
The next week she had talked to her art professor about the idea. The woman was thrilled with the possibility. “I have an artist friend with a flat in Paris. She has a bedroom she rents cheap to art students. I’ll call her tonight and check her availability.”
When the class met again, the teacher had goodnews. Her friend could take Ashley, in January, middle of what would’ve been her sophomore year. Not only that, but the friend would arrange for Ashley to work at a local art gallery.
The news was more than Ashley could wrap her mind around. She had stared at her teacher and grinned. “Please.” Ashley had been breathless, her head spinning. “Tell your friend I accept. I’ll be there in January.”
And just like that Ashley’s dream became a reality. She told her parents her decision that night. Told them… didn’t ask them. “I’m moving to Paris. I already have a room lined up.”
Her mother’s face went pale. “Ashley… what will you do in Paris?” Her voice was more concerned than kind. “What about school?”
“I don’t need school to learn how to paint, Mother.” Ashley could feel the defiance in her eyes. “I’ll be working at an art gallery.” She lifted her head. “I’ll learn from the best.”
That night and dozens that followed, her parents tried to talk sense into her. Finally, they had a family meeting and they asked Ashley to tell her siblings what she was about to do. Ashley had kept the conversation brief. “I’m for sure going. I won’t change my mind… Mom and Dad thought you should know.”
