
What readers are saying about
the R E D E M P T I O N series
"Karen's writing is incredible. It touches my heart as nothing ever has aside 
from my Bible. I love that she puts the reader in a real- life situation. The 
things she writes have happened to me or my family and friends. Even though it's 
fiction, living with the Baxter family has made me stronger." nDawn T., Union 
City, TN
"[Karen has] been such a wonderful godsend. Her books have brought me to God, 
and have led my husband and I to remarry after a bad divorce."
--Kathy V., Rancho Santa Margarita, CA
"Karen Kingsbury's fiction has changed my life by reminding me there is hope 
amid seemingly hopeless circumstances of life. And that faith in God's 
redemptive plan is the anchor I can hold on to when life's compasses fail." 
--Amy W., Lawrenceville, GA
"Since reading [Karen's] book, my husband and I have both been :different. Our 
life together has been more like it used to be many years ago. My husband is so 
much warmer toward me. We' love i[Karen's] books and can't wait to read the next 
one. I have never read books like hers. Keep writing, and we'll keep reading."
nKaren and Fred S., Readers
i 
ii 'I have read every book Karen Kingsbury has written. Each one has rought 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 aave given me hope and the assurance 
of forgiveness and the ;trength to look forward to what the Lord would have me 
do."
--Karen N., Campbell, CA
'Karen Kingsbury's books have helped me understand the role and ignificance of 
Christian fiction in the life of a young, married, ,frican-American woman with 
children. Before discovering her 9ooks, I only read 'regular' romance. Her books 
have changed my attitude about reading significant fiction that changes my 
thinking, my married life, my Christian way of handling marriage and life." 
--Gwendolyn J., Indianapolis, IN
'With the Redemption series I've been encouraged to continually give my marriage 
to God so that He can be the center of it."
--Karen N.,'Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
"We cannot afford vacations--[Karen's] books have been my vacations I I feel 
like I have been in the home of the Baxter family and I k.now them." --Beth S., 
Midlothian, VA
"Karen Kingsbury's inspirational books have been a joy to read. They make you 
laugh, they make you cry, and in the end they leave you with hope!" --Cindy M., 
York, PA
iii Karen KINGSBURY 
t Gary SMALLEY 
TYNDALE HOUSE PUBLISHERS, INC., Wheaton, Illinois 
iv 2004006001
Visit Tyndale's exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com
Copyright Š2004 by The Smalley Publishing Group, LLC, and Karen Kingsbury.
All rights reserved.
Cover photograph copyright Šby Digital Vision/Getty Images. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration Š2004 by David Henderson. All rights reserved.
Gary Smalley photo copyright Š2001 by Jim Lersch. All rights reserved.
Designed by Beth Sparkman
Some Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Livittg 
Translation, copyright Š1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, 
Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
Most Scripture used in this book whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters 
is taken from the Holy Bble, New International Version . NIV . Copyright 1973, 
1978, 1984 by Internauonal Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan 
Publishing HOuse. All rights reserved.
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc.,
7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
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 
publisher-.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kingsbury, Karen.
Reunion / Kareu Kingsbury with Gary Smaltey.
ISBN 0-8.23-8688-2 (sc)
1. Adoption--Fiction. I. Smalley, Gary. II. Title. PS3561.I4873R485 2004 
813'.54--dc22
Printed in the United States of America
08 07 06 05 04
8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
v 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. 
vi 
vii 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 Hannah 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. 
1 C H A P T E R O N E
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."
2 
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 unthinkablemabout 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?
3 ki n g s b u r y " s m a lie y
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
4 
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.
5 
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, Clarise, 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
6 
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 preg nancy 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 face 
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 di rected her attention to Candy. "How 
much?" 
7 
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..."
He covered her hand with his, his teeth clenched. The figure was still finding 
its way to the recesses of Erin's mind when Dave delivered the final blow.
"Five thousand in twenty-four hours." He flashed a smile that fell far short of 
his eyes. "Or the deal's off."
The blood test had been the doctor's idea.
Not because he doubted whether she was HIV-positive. In fact, since he'd taken 
over Ashley's case, the doctor had called the original lab and discovered that 
they had done two tests with the original blood sample. Both were positive. 
Rather, he wanted a complete panel on her, a breakdown of her enzymes and 
mineral levels and every other test that might determine how healthy she was, 
how compromised her immune system. And most of all, what method of treatment to 
take.
Ashley expected the results to come by phone, the way they had the last time, 
but this warm Friday morning stuck in the middle of a stack of mail was a thick 
envelope from the lab. Ashley studied it as she made her way back into the 
house.
Cole was inside, writing his alphabet on a piece of paper. He grinned at her 
from the dining-room table as she walked in. "Hi,
8 
Mom." His feet didn't quite reach the floor, and he swung them under his seat. 
"I'm on T already."
"Really?" Ashley's eyes were back on the envelope. "That's great, buddy. Tell me 
when you're done so I can check it."
She went into the kitchen and set the rest of the mail on a desk by the 
telephone. She stared at the thick envelope, slipped her
thumb beneath the flap, and pulled out the stapled document. Next to her name, 
the top sheet read "Lab Results."
Ashley had no reason to feel nervous or strange about the re- sults. She already 
knew she was HIV-positive; it was only a matter of how her blood was holding up 
under the compromise of HIV, and whether any sort of progression toward 
full-blown AIDS could be seen.
Her eyes darted over the page, anxious for the summary lines, the places where 
any untrained person could make sense of the numbers and calculations. Then, at 
the bottom of the first sheet she saw it. A simple few lines with only a few 
words that made
Ashley's heart skitter into a strange and unrecognizable beat. She sucked in a 
quick breath and blinked hard.
It was impossible; she couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. Someone had to 
have made a mistake.
Her head began to spin, and she gripped the counter to keep from falling to the 
floor. She had to find Landon, had to tell him.
"Mommy... I'm all done!" Cole's singsong voice called out to her from the 
adjacent room. "Come check."
"Okay." Ashley's face was hot and tingling, the way she felt when she got too 
close to a campfire. "Just a minute." She pressed her hands against her cheeks 
and jerked back. Her fingers were freezing. She found the results line again. 
They couldn't be right, could they?
A chill made its way from the back of her head, down her spine, and into her 
feet. God, is it true? Is it really true? Then one last time she studied the lab 
results and began to imagine that maybe--just maybe--they were right. It wasn't 
possible, but still.., what if? What if she'd come this far, given up so much,
9 
only to find out this? She wasn't sure whether to scream or shout 
or break down on the floor and cry. 
But she was sure of one thing. 
If the results were accurate, from this moment on, her life would never be the 
same again.. 
10 
11 
CHAPTER TWO
Dr. Steinman was still talking, still explaining her results, but Elizabeth 
hadn't heard a single word. She could only think of what this meeting would mean 
to her family.
The doctor stopped talking and looked at her, waiting. "Do you understand what 
I'm telling you, Elizabeth?"
She glanced at John, still sitting beside her. He had a tight grip on her hand, 
but his face was cast down, his eyes closed. She wanted to shake him, make him 
look up and smile and tell her everything was going to be okay. The way he'd 
been telling her that before the doctor told them the results.
But the doctor was waiting. She turned to him and gave a slight shake of her 
head. "I... I guess I don't understand."
A tired breath came from Dr. Steinman. He was a friend of John's. This couldn't 
be easy for him, either. "What I'm saying is yes, Elizabeth, the cancer is back. 
The mammogram showed a shadow on your other breast, and the biopsy tells me that 
whatever we're dealing with, it's stronger, more aggressive than before." The 
doctor bit his lower lip and looked from Elizabeth to John. "I'm sorry; there's 
no other way to say it. I'm recommending a double mastectomy. I'd like to do it 
Monday."
12 
REUNION
This time every word hit its mark. Elizabeth couldn't remember how to exhale, 
couldn't react or speak or do anything but sit there, frozen. Double mastectomy? 
Monday? It was impossible, utterly ridiculous. She'd been cancer-free for more 
than ten years, well past the five-year mark that deemed a person winner of the 
battle.
The doctor was waiting for her response, but she couldn't talk, couldn't move or 
even blink her eyes. If she said anything at all, then the doctor's diagnosis 
would be real. She would be sitting across from him in his office, John at her 
side, receiving the worst news of her life. And so she said nothing, only leaned 
hard into John's arm.
That's when she saw his eyes. For the first time in those awful minutes, 
Elizabeth caught a look at her husband's face and saw how grim the situation 
truly was. John's eyes were filled with fear. On occasion, she had seen John 
cry, seen him weep when Luke returned to the family, or tear up when he walked 
Kari down the aisle. But this was the first time she'd ever seen raw, terrifying 
fear in her husband's eyes.
Dr. Steinman put Elizabeth's file back together and looked at both of them. "If 
Monday won't work for you, I'd like to do the surgery as soon as possible." He 
stood up, hesitated, and moved toward the door. I'll leave you alone so you can 
talk about it." Another awkward pause. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, John . . . I'm 
sorry."
When he was gone, John stood and helped Elizabeth to her feet. She gathered her 
purse and like wound-up robots, they left the office hand in hand, silent. John 
drove and all the way home they said nothing, the shock of the news still 
detonating in Elizabeth's heart and soul and mind, the way she was sure it was 
detonating in John's.
It was a school day, and Cole--in his last year before kindergarten--was at home 
with Ashley because of her appointment. Just a checkup, they'd told the kids 
when she went in for her mammogram. They didn't say a word about the biopsy or 
the
13 
kingsbury smalley
reason for today's appointment. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was a rash of 
phone calls the moment they heard the news.
Better to let them believefor a little while longer--that their worlds were 
finally running smoothly, that the woman they loved and counted on wasn't about 
to undergo the battle of her life. She opened the car door, got out, and began 
to walk. Only when she heard John's voice did she turn around.
"Elizabeth... wait." He climbed out and leaned against the car. "We need to 
talk."
"Fine." She closed her eyes and breathed in, long and slow. The air smelled 
sweet, of early spring and damp earth giving way to life. Her knees trembled, 
and the ground beneath her felt suddenly liquid. The facade could only hold up 
for so long. She blinked her eyes open.
"Where are you going?"
Only one place would do for this conversation. "Follow me." Each word was an 
effort, an exercise in control. "Please, John."
She waited until he was at her side, until his hand was in hers. As they set 
out, he had a sense of purpose, a way of taking the lead, and something about 
that touched Elizabeth's heart. Because he knew where she wanted to go. He was 
reading her mind, even now. Especially now. When she was reeling from the worst 
news of her life.
They walked across the gentle slope of their backyard to the footbridge that 
crossed the stream behind the house. There, not far from the bridge and framed 
by a hedge of brush and budding trees, was a bench still covered in leaves from 
the previous fall.
"Here?" He looked at her, his expression blank, frozen. Words wouldn't come so 
she simply nodded.
Years had passed since they'd come here. Long ago--when the kids were still in 
school--the bench was their private place, the spot where they talked about 
Kari's schoolgirl crush on Ryan Taylor, where they prayed that Brooke would 
develop social skills to go with her bright mind and determination. It was the
14 
REUNION
spot where they shared talks about Ashley and her teenage rebellion, where they 
came when Elizabeth wondered if Erin's meal skipping indicated the early stages 
of an eating disorder. Finally, it was the place where they prayed for Luke, 
that he'd find the
compassion he sometimes seemed to lack.
The 'bench had heard it all.
Elizabeth and John would slip out for an evening walk, taking in the boundaries 
of their property, talking about their day, and always they would wind up at the 
old bench. From the bench Elizabeth could see the back of the house, and her 
children busy inside it. The bench was quiet, removed from the chaos and 
constant disarray that their house had been back then. Their conversations could 
take place uninterrupted, graced only by the background music of flowing creek 
waters, rustling leaves, and the cry of an occasional lone hawk.
Several years back when the kids moved away and privacy was no longer an 
issue--their evening talks moved to their bedroom and the overstuffed chairs in 
front of their small fireplace. But that place would never do now. Not when her 
entire house would be screaming with memories, each room and corner shouting 
about all she had to lose.
No, the bench was as close as she wanted to be.
John turned to her and said nothing, just studied her, his face masked in shock. 
Then, without another word, he drew her close. "Elizabeth..."
She slipped her arms around his waist and they came together, their bodies 
finding that familiar fit Elizabeth loved. The fit that would change when the 
surgeon was finished with her. A million thoughts welled up, demanding 
expression. But when she opened her mouth, the sound that came out was a gut- 
wrenching, broken cry, desperate and mournful and so powerful it made her weak 
at the knees.
"John..." His name was more wail than word. She held her breath, grasping for 
even a modicum of strength. "Why?"
He held her up, the way he had always held her up whenever
15 
kingsbury smalley
life was hard. They stayed that way a long time, Elizabeth allowing just the 
surface of her sorrow to spill onto John's shoulder. As she wept she could feel 
him shaking, feel his shoulders trembling against hers, because this---this was 
bigger than anything they'd faced yet.
But even now it wasn't bigger than the God they'd spent a lifetime serving.
She steadied her knees and placed her hands on his chest. Prayer. They needed to 
pray before she could even begin to consider the future. She searched his 
tearstained eyes. The sun beat down on them, but it did nothing to ward off the 
chill in her bones. "Pray, John..." She sniffed twice and stared at the 
brilliant blue sky overhead. When her eyes found his again, she looked to the 
depths of his soul. "Pray before we lose another minute. Please."
He hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. "God..." He closed his eyes and his 
voice broke. He worked his hands around her waist, chin trembling. "God, you 
know why we're here."
Elizabeth kept her eyes open, watching him, hating how their lives had been 
turned upside down by a single diagnosis. They weren't really doing this, were 
they? How could the cancer be back?
John stood straighter, clinging to his composure. "You are not limited by 
medical reports or statistics or cancer. We trust you, God. Please--" a shaky 
breath slipped through his lipsw"please give Elizabeth a miracle." His voice was 
strained as he finished. "In Jesus' name.., we beg you, God."
They stayed that way until both their tears were dry, holding on to each other 
so neither of them would fall. Then John brushed the bench clean, and they sat 
down.
Elizabeth had never felt this way in all her life. A strange mix of adrenaline 
and sorrow and anger and panic welled within her and coursed through her veins, 
so that part of her wanted to weep, and another part of her wanted to run for 
her life.
16 
REUNION 
John wove his fingers between hers. "Will you do it?" He turned to her. "The 
surgery?" 
Her throat grew thick as she watched him, the only man she'd ever loved. She 
kept her eyes locked on his. "Of course I'll do it. I'll do it Monday, like he 
asked. I'd let them cut my arms off if it meant more time with you and the 
kids." 
"How--" he sighed in a way that made him sound far older than his nearly sixty 
years--"how do you feel?" 
"About the surgery?" Her body was still cold, still shivering. 
She snuggled closer to John. "Or the cancer?" 
"All of it." 
"Scared." Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder. "Mad. Desperate. 
Determined." A sad sound came from her throat. "It changes every few seconds." 
"The surgery is better than it used to be, more accurate." John 
turned toward her. "But still..." 
"Still I lose my breasts." 
"Yes." Defeat and frustration and helplessness jumbled his ex pression. 
"I guess I'm not thinking about that yet." Elizabeth lifted her head and studied 
the old house a hundred yards away. "I'm thinking what if it doesn't work?" She 
looked at him. "What if it's already spread?" 
"It hasn't." John gritted his teeth and she watched the muscles in his jaw flex 
twice. "You can't think that way." 
"It's possible, John. You know it." She looked at the house again. "I was 
thinking on the way home, you know how we talk at church about heaven and being 
ready to die? about how heaven will be better, and eternity is where life really 
begins?" She sat up straighter. "I can't remember how many times I've told 
myself I wasn't afraid to die." Her shoulders lifted in two small shrugs. "I 
know all the right verses. 'What is our life but a mist that appears for a 
little while then disappears'.., or 'To live is Christ; to die is gain.' I've 
spoken them dozens of times and al ways felt at peace with the idea of death." 
17 
A breeze sifted through the trees above them. John ran his thumb over the top of 
her hand. "And now?"
"Now--" her eyes narrowed, seeing into the distant future-- "now I only want to 
live long.enough to see Ashley and Landon set a date for their wedding, to see 
Cole finally have a father, to know that Hayley's going to be okay, and to meet 
Erin and Sam's new little daughter. To be there for Kari when she and Ryan have 
their first baby and to help Ashley when she.., if she comes down with AIDS."
Tears filled her eyes again, and once more she turned to John. "I don't want to 
be a mist that appears for a little while, John. I don't want to go to heaven, 
not yet. I want to see my kids and my grandkids grow up. Not being there scares 
me to death."
John squeezed her hand. "So fight it." His voice held determination for the 
first time since they'd gotten the news. He framed her face with his free hand. 
"Fight it with everything you have. And when you don't feel like fighting, lean 
on me and I'll fight for you."
"I will." She sniffed. "I'll fight it with every breath." She searched his face, 
his eyes. The love coming from him was so strong it felt as if that alone might 
heal her. "Know what I want?" "What?" He lowered his hand to her knee.
"I want a reunion with all the kids." She looked up again, seeing beyond the 
blue sky. "We could go somewhere warm with a beach--Sanibel Island, Florida, 
maybe. We could go in July or August, when everyone could get away."
"Hmmm." John cocked his head. "Our thirty-fifth anniversary is August 
twenty-second. Maybe that week."
"Yes!" It was the first time she'd felt even a little excited all day. "If we 
tell them now, everyone would have time to make it work."
"Elizabeth..." John's tone changed. "This reunion.., is it because you're sick? 
Because you can't be thinking like that, like you need a last time together. Not 
now."
Fear took another stab at her. "I've been thinking about this
18 
REUNION 
long before my tests. I want this, John. No matter what hap pens." 
"Okay." His eyebrows relaxed some. "It has been a while since we've all been 
together." 
Something happened in her soul at the sound of his words. All together. It had 
been a while since she'd thought of him, but now her heart demanded she take 
stock of her life. Even the parts she'd spent a lifetime trying to forget. "Of 
coursew" she searched his eyes--"we'll never really be all together. Not all of 
US." 
John's face went blank. He opened his mouth as if he might ar gue with her, 
because they'd all been together hundreds of times over the years. But then he 
stopped. Ever so slowly the real meaning of her statement struck him. A gradual 
dawning, an understanding, and then the pain hit. Hard and relentless, she 
watched it take its toll on his expression. He released her hand, stood slowly, 
and took a few steps toward the house. 
Instantly Elizabeth regretted saying anything. They'd prom ised, after all, 
agreed all those years ago that they could never look back. But if time was 
running out, Elizabeth had to at least think about it. She couldn't change the 
past, but she could ac knowledge it. 
Minutes passed before he spoke. When he did, his shoulders were broad and stiff, 
his voice laced with a new kind of pain. "I knew it." 
She stood and went to him, looping her arm around his neck 
and leaning against him once more. "Knew what?" He looked at her. "You couldn't 
forget." "This isn't the first time." 
"I know, but we always promise." Control eased into his fea tures and he pursed 
his lips. 
"Sometimes we last a year or two years. It's been more than three this time." 
Elizabeth held on to him, her knees weak again. "But it never quite goes away." 
"Well, now it has to." John's voice was firm, but kind. "We 
19 
kingsbury smalley 
have enough to think about." He took in a sharp breath through his nose and 
shook his head. "That door's been closed for thirty- five years." 
"I know." Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry. I guess . . ." She 
looked at the creek, the way the waters never stopped running no matter the 
season. "I guess the diagnosis makes me want to take stock." 
A long breath left him. "I understand." He brushed his lips against her 
forehead. "Let's focus on what's in front of us, okay? That's all we can do." 
Elizabeth changed the subject, and they talked about the next few days. They'd 
have the kids over for dinner Sunday night and tell them the truth---that their 
mother's cancer was back and she would most likely have surgery that Monday. 
"Brooke isn't going to take it well." Elizabeth felt the thick ness in her 
throat again. "Not after what happened with Hayley." 
"I think you'll be surprised." John took her hand again and led her toward the 
footbridge. "Brooke's stronger than before. She might handle it better than the 
others." 
"Maybe." Elizabeth followed him over the bridge and across their backyard. 
"Let's not tell them about the reunion just yet." 
Once they were inside, John led her into their bedroom, closed the door, and 
took her in his arms. "There's something I didn't say out there." 
"What?" The way he held her made her breathless, the em brace of a man who still 
wanted her despite time and all it had stolen from them. 
"The way I see you--" he looked beyond her heart to the cen ter of her 
soul--"the way I desire you, Elizabeth, will not change, not ever. You will 
still be the only woman who has ever turned my head, the most beautiful woman 
I've ever seen." 
Of all the things he might've said to her right then, nothing could've touched 
her spirit the way those words did. "John..." She placed her hands along the 
sides of his face. "I love you." 
Desire shone in his eyes. Not the passionate sparks of youth, 
20 
REUNION
but a longing born of years of intimacy. He kissed her, and a slow tender 
urgency began to fill the moment. "I've loved you all my life, Elizabeth. 
Always."
Their kisses continued and his hands moved along her sides, touching her in a 
way he wouldn't be able to in only a few short days. Then, for the next 
hour--ignoring work or time or her cancer diagnosis--John showed her the kind of 
love she'd spent a lifetime knowing, a love that wouldn't change ever.
Not even when her body did.
John waited until Elizabeth was asleep before making his way downstairs to his 
chair, the one where he did most of his late- night thinking and praying.
That he'd gotten through the day was a miracle, a testimony to God's strength at 
the center of his life. Because he understood his wife's test results better 
than he'd let on, better than she understood them.
Dr. Steinman had no choice but to schedule the surgery. Elizabeth's biopsy 
showed her cancer at a stage that went beyond mere mastectomy. It was very 
advanced. Almost every time, women with a biopsy like Elizabeth's would have 
surgery only to find the cancer had spread to their lymph nodes.
So Elizabeth was right to be thinking about dying.
Not that he would ever tell her that. They could do the surgery and find more 
cancer and even give her a death sentence and never--not once--would he stop 
believing that God could turn the whole thing around. Not after Hayley's 
miracle.
He eased himself into the old chair and stared at the five framed photographs 
lining the fireplace mantel. The senior portraits for each of the kids.
His eyes closed and he thought about the battle ahead. God... give us a miracle. 
I can't make it without her.
A stirring brushed across his soul, and he remembered some
21 
kingsbury smal[ey
thing Pastor Mark Atteberry had said the previous Sunday. He'd been doing a 
sermon series on Easter, and all it meant. There in the garden the night before 
he was crucified, Jesus wanted to pass on what lay ahead of him. But he prayed a 
simple prayer,
one that echoed across John's heart now.
"Not my will, but yours be done."
John let the words play in his mind a few more times. They seemed right for 
Jesus, but for. him? John Baxter? He was merely a man, and since this morning, 
not a very strong man, at that. He couldn't possibly pray the way Jesus had in 
the garden.
God, I'd be lying if l prayed for your will now. Instead I'm begging you, God, 
make her well. Take me if you want, but make her well. She... she means so much 
to all of us, God.
He opened his eyes and saw the pictures again, their five children. Why had 
Elizabeth brought it up today, after three years of forgetting? They hadn't ever 
really been all together? Was that how she saw it? She found the strangest times 
to remember, and whenever she did, it sent him reeling for the better part of a 
week.
What had they told each other back then? That they'd do what they had to do and 
never look back, right? Wasn't that it? Today was a time to talk about Elizabeth 
and the kids and whatever time they still had left together. A time to pray that 
cancer would be defeated in this battle, the way it had the first go-around. 
This wasn't any time to remember the hardest part of their lives, a
part they were supposed to have buried long ago.
If only every few years she wouldn't bring it up.
John blinked and stared at the faces of his kids once more. Maybe he was being 
too hard on his wife. He was no better than she, really. How many times had he 
sat in this chair and stared at that mantel, at the spot to the left of Brooke's 
picture, and wondered what the boy would've looked like at seventeen? What he 
looked like now? How often in the moments before falling asleep had he let 
himself go back to everything he and Elizabeth had been through.
22 
REUNION 
He liked to think he never looked back, that he could live with their decision 
to keep the past hidden. Hidden from their chil dren and from each other, and 
most of the time even hidden from themselves. 
They'd done what they had to do. Period. 
No options, no second thoughts, no regrets. 
But in reality, he was no better at forgetting the past than Eliz abeth was. 
In fact, he'd be lying if he didn't admit to thinking about it at least every 
now and then. Maybe more often than that. 
Not because he'd known what she was talking about almost as soon as she'd 
mentioned the fact that they'd never really all been together. But because he'd 
known instantly how long it had been since that awful time in their lives. 
He looked at the calendar on his wristwatch. Thirty-five years, seven months, 
two days. 
Exactly. 
23 
CHAPTER THREE
By Friday night, Erin had figured out a way to get the
money, and an hour later Sam was convinced, too.
They'd sell his little Ford Contour, and until they could afford a second car 
again, Sam would drop Erin off at school each morning on the way to his computer 
job. He'd skip lunch so he could leave an hour early and swing by to pick up 
Erin sometime around five o'clock.
By the time they had the For Sale signs made, Erin had talked herself into 
believing the arrangement was actually a good thing. They'd save on insurance 
and gas, and she'd have a reason to stay and correct papers until Sam picked her 
up each day.
"You really think this'll work?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "We oughta call the 
attorney and tell him what Candy and Dave are up to. They'd never get away with 
it."
"And we'd never get the baby." Erin took hold of Sam's arm, her tone full of 
quiet desperation. "Please, Sam. Just pray someone buys the car."
He looked at the sign. "Five thousand dollars for a car that's not even two 
years old?" A sad chuckle slipped from his mouth. "It's worth more than twice 
that. Someone better buy it."
24 
REUNION
The next morning Erin followed Sam to the busiest supermarket in Austin, 
especially on a Saturday. He parked the car at the front of the lot in an area 
set apart by the market for individual car sellers. Erin noticed her hands were 
Shaking as she stepped out of the van and headed toward Sam's car.
God... let this work, please. That baby is ours, not hers.
My grace is sufficient for you, daughter.
The response came so quick, so certain that Erin froze in place, right in the 
middle of the supermarket parking lot.
"Erin, look out!" Sam shouted at her from where he'd parked the Contour.
She jumped and ran lightly to Sam, her head spinning. "I... I'm sorry. I 
couldn't think for a minute."
"Okay." Sam put his hand on her shoulder and stared at her. "Listen." His 
expression told her he was more scared than angry, but his tone was sharp. 
"Don't panic on me, Erin. God's in control, remember? Wasn't that what you kept 
telling me when we started this idea?"
Erin's heart was racing, her forehead damp with sweat. What had happened back 
there? The words had come to her as certainly as if someone had shouted them at 
her from across the parking lot. But they didn't come at her through her ears, 
the way it usually worked. Rather they came straight into her heart, through her 
heart, maybe.
What was it she'd heard?
My grace is sufficient for you. Wasn't that it?
She clenched her fists and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. 
Breathe out, she told herself. Breathe out and say something. She looked at Sam 
and forced a weak smile. "You're right, "I--" she shook her head---"I'm sorry. I 
guess I'm worried it won't sell."
"It'll sell."
"But what if it doesn't sell this weekend?" They had convinced the baby's birth 
parents to give them two days--the entire weekendmto come up with the money. But 
the tattooed man had
25 
been adamant about having the money by Sunday night. "You
heard what he said."
"It'll sell, Erin."
"But if it doesn't, how can--"
Sam put his finger to her lips. His expression softened and he pulled her into 
his arms. They stayed that way while passersby and car shoppers milled around 
them, as other prospective car sellers moved their vehicles into the parking 
area and left.
Finally, Sam spoke. "It's hard on me, too." He pressed his cheek against her 
hair. "I keep asking God what's going on, what he's doing, letting that woman 
work us over like this. Why does having a baby have to be so hard?"
Erin's anxiety faded and she drew back, studying the man she loved. This was new 
for Sam, this allowing her to see a glimpse of his true feelings. No matter what 
he said or how stoic his composure, he was every bit as scared as she. He was 
looking at her, and she searched his eyes until she could feel a connection
deeper than ever before. "Thank you."
"Thank you?"
"Yes." She motioned to their little car. "Thank you for coming here, for loving 
me enough to sell the car and tell me the truth about how you feel. It means a 
lot."
"Well..." His chin quivered but he coughed twice and shook
head, the way Erin had seen him steady himself a few other times in their 
marriage. "I want that little girl, Erin. I want her as
do." He sucked in a hard breath and dug his hands into his pockets. "Let's pray 
God feels the same way."
They left the car and drove home together in her van. Two
later they were having lunch when the phone rang. Sam took it and moved into the 
next room. After only a few minutes he hung up and found her again.
:: "So?" Erin tried to read his face, but she couldn't.
', "It sold." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "The man has the money.
he'll meet us at the car in an hour."
Erin raised her fists in the air, stared at the ceiling, and
26 
REUNION
shouted out loud. "Yes!!' She looked at Sam again. "Everything's going to be 
okay--I can feel it."
He nodded, but what remained of his smile faded.
"Sam?" Her excitement dissolved like sand in an ocean wave. "What's wrong?"
Air filled his cheeks and he pursed his lips, releasing his breath slowly the 
way he did when he was frustrated. "I'm not sure this is the right thing."
Her world tilted and she stared at him. "Which part? Selling the car?"
With slow steps he crossed the kitchen and sat down at the table. "All of it." 
He reached across and took her hands. His were ice-cold. "We just lost our car, 
Erin. So we give Candy and Dave the money and then what? The next day they ask 
for another five thousand and where does that leave us?" He lowered his brow. 
"Haven't you thought of that?"
Fear danced in circles around her, laughing, mocking her. Of course she'd 
thought of it, but only for the briefest partial seconds. This was the 
possibility she hadn't allowed herself to consider: that somehow the 
scary-looking man Candy claimed was the baby's father might be playing games, 
taking them for a ride without ever intending to give the baby up.
She bit her lower lip. Her voice was pinched, racked with an unimaginable fear. 
"What choice do we have?"
"That's just it." He paused. "There is no choice."
His answer told her that regardless of where the journey took them, he was as 
committed as she to the outcome.
An hour later they sold the car, collected the money, and left the parking lot 
with a sense of doom. Erin used Sam's cell phone to call Candy. "We have the 
money."
The woman's voice was instantly cheerful. "Really? Five thousand dollars?"
"Yes. Like you asked."
"Okay--" Candy hesitated--"meet at the park again."
27 
kingsbury smalley
Erin's body ached. The conversation was making her feel tired. "When?"
"In an hour."
Erin and Sam parked their van not far from the grassy border of the park and 
waited. Even with the engine off, Sam held tight to the steering wheel and 
stared straight out the windshield. Beside him on the console was a manila 
envelope with five thousand dollars cash inside.
He tapped his fingers on his knee and looked at Erin. "Why doesn't this feel 
right?"
A sigh slipped from Erin's lips, and she folded her hands on her lap. "I know." 
She looked out the window and shook her head. "Sitting here like criminals 
waiting to make some under-the-table deal."
"I keep asking myself why I feel guilty, like maybe we're supposed to call the 
social worker or the attorney."
A beat-up car pulled into the parking lot, different from what Candy had driven 
the last time. As it came closer, Erin squinted. Candy was in the backseat. 
Dave--the man who claimed to be the baby's father--was in the passenger seat, 
and behind the wheel was an older, bearded man with dark drifter eyes. i: Erin 
leaned toward Sam. "Great."
"Right." Sam rolled down the van window, his eyes on the
people in the car, his voice barely a whisper. "Now I feel much
: Dave climbed out, gave a shady glance over one shoulder then another, and 
looped around the front of the car to Sam's window. "Candy says you got the 
cash."
:"I have it." Contempt filled his voice. Sam's expression was his lips a thin 
angry line. :! Erin watched her husband take the envelope, hesitate a sec- or 
two, and then hand it to Dave through the window. Sam an even-tempered man, but 
one time when Erin had seen really angry, he'd put his fist through a wall. Now 
he looked ready to do the same thing to Dave's mouth. She held her
28 
REUNION 
breath. God... help Sam. Don't let him say anything that'll make this worse. 
At first Dave looked like he might turn around and leave as soon as the envelope 
was in his hands. Instead he opened it, pulled out the bundle of hundred-dollar 
bills, tucked the enve lope under his arm, and began counting. The man was 
shaking so badly, the envelope made a loud rustling sound. 
Drugs, Erin thought. He'll use every dime for drugs. She looked past Dave at the 
car and saw the driver pass what looked like a marijuana joint back to Candy. 
The two laughed about some thing and Candy passed it back to the driver. 
An aching started in Erin's stomach. Everything felt crazy and out of control. 
Adoption wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? Hadn't they only been 
following their pastor's advice, adopting a child who wasn't wanted? So how had 
everything become sor did? This is so dirty, God, so wrong. What're we supposed 
to do? Please... please show us. 
Dave must've been satisfied with his count because he stuffed 
% 
the cash back into the envelope and said something that drove a 
knife through what was left of Erin's sanity. 
"You still want the baby, right?" 
"Listen." Sam clenched his teeth and made a sharp inhale through his nose. 
"Don't mess with us." 
"Ooooh." Dave chuckled and looked over his shoulder at his friends, as if they 
might understand something funny had just happened. With his mouth open it was 
easier to see just how many teeth he was missing. He looked back at Sam, held 
out his hand, palm down, and gave it a series of dramatic shakes. "You scare me, 
man." 
"I'm serious." Sam sat a little straighter. "We did what you asked. Now get 
Candy home and take care of her." He started the engine. "We'll see you at the 
hospital." 
Dave cocked his head, the smile suddenly gone. "I asked you a question, man. You 
still want the baby or not?" 
Erin couldn't make out her husband's expression, but she 
29 
could see by the tension in his posture how close he was to losing control. 
Please, God...
Sam turned slightly so he was facing the man. "If we didn't want the baby, we 
wouldn't be here."
"Okay." Dave's expression eased and he chuckled again. "Stay by the phone." He 
winked as he took a few steps backward. "I'll be calling."
And in that instant, Erin felt her hopes crash against the rocks of reality and 
splinter into a million pieces. The bribes were not over, and they were quite 
simply out of money.
When Dave was gone, Sam turned to her. The knowing in his face told her that he, 
too, was aware of the situation they were in. If Dave asked for more money, they 
would have just one choice.
Call the attorney and tell him the truth, even if they lost the baby daughter in 
the process.
Most of the time, Candy could care less what people thought of
She had a roof over her head and a loaf of bread in the refrigerator. Couldn't 
ask for more than that. The kids stayed with her mother most of the time, and 
when it was her turn, so what if
they didn't eat much? Big deal. A lot of kids had it worse. Besides, she was 
never cut out to be a mother.
She was a druggie, a floozy, the sort of trash that never lived in one place 
more than a few months. But at least she wasn't uppity like the couple in the 
van. At least she knew her place in life, and this late in the game she wasn't 
looking to change, didn't waste time on what-ifs and might-haves or a batch of 
regrets the way some of her friends did. If people didn't like her then bully 
for them.
But as the car she was riding in sped out of the parking lot, she felt a nudge 
of remorse. Second thoughts, maybe, or a gasp of air
30 
REUNION
from. a conscience long dead. The plan was pretty nasty, could probably land 
them in jail if they weren't careful.
Actually it wasn't her plan; it was Dave's. And it was a good one. Kids were 
nothing but brats and hard work. She'd learned that after she popped the first 
one out. The plan didn't come about until she told Dave how much loot she'd 
raked in from the rich couple. All for having a kid and giving it away.
Dave's eyes had grown narrow, and a thin smile had worked its way into his 
cheeks. "I think we just hit the jackpot, Candy."
"The jackpot?" Candy wasn't doing hard drugs, not since she found out about the 
kid. Just some bourbon and weed here and there. She took a drag from a joint and 
frowned at him. "What jackpot?"
"They want the kid, right?" He'd sat forward, his face registering the kind of 
excited look he usually got when they scored a dime bag.
"'Course they want the kid." She'd exhaled a blue ribbon of smoke that curled 
toward the ceiling of their studio apartment. "They paid for it, didn't they?"
"Not yet, they didn't." He'd chuckled and flattened his hands on the table. Then 
he told her about the plan. Candy would meet with the couple, tell them she was 
a little low on cash. "Hint around, you know. Like if you don't get the money 
you can't think about giving up the kid."
"Okay." Candy rubbed her arms and gave a few slow nods of her head. "I think I'm 
seeing it."
"Yeah, and then..." Dave had taken a drag from her joint and held the smoke 
several beats. He raised one eyebrow, slow and sarcastic-like. "If they cough up 
a few thousand, we wait a few days and tell 'em we need more."
Candy had worried about that. Not because of her conscience but because it 
sounded almost illegal. "You don't think the cops could get involved, do ya?"
"Nah; the cops got better things to do. Welfare's just glad we're getting rid of 
a kid this time."
31 
Candy had liked the way he said we, because as far as she knew Dave was the 
baby's father. But she couldn't be sure. Lots of crazy nights back before she 
got pregnant. But this ownership thing was new to Candy. A man happy to lay 
claim to one of her kids. Unless...
She twisted her expression. "You ain't thinkin' of keeping half the money, are 
you?"
Dave had cast her a look that defined disgust. "Of course!" He rattled off a few 
choice words. "I'm working for it, right?" He waved his hands at himself. "This 
is me sitting here, right?"
Candy had thought about that and figured it was okay. The idea was his, after 
all, and if he helped collect the money the least she could do was split it with 
him. "Okay." She'd slapped her hand on the table. "I'm in."
The memory died there as Candy stared out the windshield from the backseat of 
the speeding car. "Hey, Scary, slow down, will ya? I'm knocked up, remember?"
"Ah, shut up." Scary was Larry Brown--Dave's buddy from the penitentiary. He 
turned to Dave and laughed out loud. Funny stuff, telling a woman to shut up.
"Listen, Scary, I'm havin' second thoughts."
Dave' glared at her over his shoulder. "Second thoughts? Look, Candy, we're in 
this thing. You and me and Scary. No turning back now."
When the money moved from a few thousand to maybe ten thousand or more, they'd 
brought Scary Larry in. Scary was a forger from the old days--documents, birth 
certificates, driver's licenses. You name it; he could forge it. Scary had a 
plan that took the baby's price tag to a place Candy hadn't dreamed.
Get the couple to pay everything they could pay. Then turn at the last minute 
and sell the baby to someone else. Forge a paper that made it look like the 
couple had changed their minds about the baby. Move a few towns down the road, 
hook up with another lawyer, another rich couple, and make a flat-out killing 
when it was all said and done.
32 
REUNION
Twenty, maybe twenty-five thousand dollars total. Twice the money for a few easy 
meetings in the gravel lot of the local park. Scary only wanted five for his 
part, so that still left maybe ten thousand each for her and Dave.
Still... Dave turned back toward the front and huffed. "Second thoughts! You're 
crazy, woman, you know that? This is the best thing we've come across in a long 
time."
Candy stared at her big belly and she could hear the lady. What was her name? 
Erin something? The lady had tears in her eyes when she talked about having a 
little girl, like having babies was some hard thing for her. That's what the 
social worker had said, that being rich didn't mean you could automatically have 
babies.
The lady in the van still deserved the kid, even if they could make a killing 
switching couples.
They were almost back to the apartment. Scary had the papers in the back of his 
car, the ones he'd forge so they could move to another town and find another 
couple. Dave and Scary acted like it was their baby, but it was hers. She could 
give it to whoever she wanted. The plan had sounded good at first, but now, 
well, what was the rush? She could always do the whole thing again. Have another 
baby, sell it, make five or ten thousand extra before the delivery.
By the time they got inside and sat down at the card table in the kitchen, Candy 
had her mind made up. As soon as the guys were sitting down she crossed her arms 
and gave a few shakes of her head. "I'm not doing it."
Dave and Scary were talking, but when they heard what she said, they stopped at 
the same time and stared at her. Candy wasn't afraid of Dave, even though he did 
have a temper. She'd been at the receiving end of it a time or two, but she 
always bounced back. Dave was just a little high-strung.
He shoved his chair back, jumped up, and came so close the
33 
k i n g s b u r y s m a lie y
toes of his shoes were touching hers. "What're you mumbling over here?"
"I said..." She lifted her chin, looking him straight in the eyes. Dave hated 
when she did that; he liked it better when she showed a little "proper fear," as 
he called it. Candy didn't care. This was her baby. "I said, I'm not doing it."
"Not doing what?" Dave straightened himself up and puffed out his chest. His 
tone told her he was serious.
"Get as much money as you can from that couple in the van-- that's fine." She 
glanced at Scary. His eyes were as cold as a kitchen knife. "But that couple 
gets the kid. I told 'em they could have her, and I wanna keep my wo--"
His hand hit her before she could finish.
The blow knocked her to the floor, dizzy and angry and more sure of herself than 
ever. He'd done this before, but never so hard. This time, the windup had come 
from nowhere.
"That's what you get for changing your mind." He snarled at her and gave her 
shin a quick kick for good measure.
"Oh, yeah..." If he wanted to be a jerk she could play, too. She struggled to 
her feet and steadied herself. Her face stung, and a dull headache worked its 
way up from the back of her neck. She heaved herself at him, shoving her hands 
into his shoulders.
The jolt moved him back a step or two, but he was at her again as soon as he had 
his balance. This time he cocked back, and before she had a chance to turn 
around, he hit her square in the face, just above her left eye. The blow knocked 
the wind from
her and left her sprawled across the floor, furious.
"Dave, what're you doing?"
Candy heard .Scary's voice, felt the floor move as Scary took heavy steps toward 
them, but she couldn't see anything. Her hands were over her eye, and the area 
above her eyebrow was warm and wet.
"It isn't up to her!" Dave yelled the words.
Candy shuddered. He was breathless, still raging from the
34 
REUNION
fight inside him, no doubt. Suddenly a new thought occurred to her. If Scary 
wasn't here, how far would Dave go? Would he hit her again, even lying there on 
the ground? And something else...
What about the baby?
She pulled herself to the corner of the room and caught a glimpse of her white 
sweatshirt. It was covered with blood. From the corner of her good eye she saw 
Dave and Scary fighting, wrestling to the floor. They were shouting at each 
other, throwing punches, but the room was swaying. Worse than when she smoked 
dope all afternoon.
"Help me..." Her voice didn't sound very loud, so she tried again. "Help!"
A sick feeling came over her. She grabbed at a breath, but it wouldn't come. Not 
all the way, and she suddenly remembered what to do. Press on the cut; that 
would stop the bleeding. She'd done that one other time when Dave got in a fight 
at the bar and some guy lay gushing blood all over the floor. Someone shouted 
something about pressure on the cut, and Candy had gotten on all fours to help 
the guy.
She shoved her fist against her eye, but the pain made the sick feeling worse. 
"I said..." Her head hung down until her chin touched her chest. "Help..."
Someone started moving toward her, and she lifted her face just enough to see it 
was Dave. His expression was frightening, madder than ever before. He was coming 
closer.., closer... closer ....
And then there was nothing but darkness.
There was only one place Erin wanted to be.
The moment they got home, she set her purse down in the kitchen and turned to 
Sam. "I think I'll go rest for a while." She angled her head and said nothing 
about the nursery. But she
35 
didn't need to. His eyes told her he knew exactly where she was
going, and something else, too.
He was okay with it.
"Whatever happens, Erin, I love you." He crossed the kitchen, kissed her lightly 
on the lips, and picked up a stack of papers. "I'll be in the office."
The nursery was the first bedroom on the left. Erin slipped inside and shut the 
door. She scanned the room, the pink-and- white wallpaper, the crib overflowing 
with pink bedding and quilted pillows, the delicate lamp and pretty furniture. 
Her favorite was the oak rockerma piece her mother had given her before they 
moved.
"I figured you'd give it to Kari or Brooke." Erin had been surprised, almost 
overwhelmed, at the idea that the family rocker might be hers.
Her mother had run her fingers lightly over the top edge of the chair. "I rocked 
every one of you kids in this chair." She lifted her eyes to Erin. "Kari and 
Brooke have recliners, and Ashley doesn't have room. Besides, I want you to have 
it, Erin. You'll need it one day; I believe that with all my heart."
The memory faded. They'd tried so long to have a baby. There were times she 
wondered whether her mother was right, whether she'd ever use the rocking chair 
for her own baby. But since learning about Candy, since making the decision to 
adopt and finding out that the baby was a girl, Erin had been sure that 
everything was going to work out. She'd have a baby after all, and the chair 
where each of the Baxter kids had been rocked would now be used to rock her own 
precious little one.
She crossed the room and eased herself into the old chair. Always the nursery 
could bring Erin comfort. When she worried about the adoption process or whether 
Candy was taking care of herself, she had only to step into the nursery to feel 
God's peace and serenity surround her. Everything would be all right. The baby 
would be fine and Candy wouldn't change her mind.
In the nursery she was sure about it all.
36 
REUNION
But now the setting sun cast strange shadows across the carpet, and anxiety 
wouldn't leave the room. How could it, when the facts stood like a block wall 
between her and the baby she so desperately wanted? She blinked and tried to 
convince herself it was all a nightmare, that they hadn't really just sold their 
new car for half of what it was worth and handed every dime over to a man who 
clearly had a drug problem.
How did they know he was really the birth father, anyway? And what about his 
flip comment, something about contacting them next week?
Erin closed her eyes and set the rocker in motion. Her arms came together around 
her middle, and for the first time in a long time she actually felt it. An 
aching in her arms, an emptiness that only a baby could fill.
God... I've already connected with that child. She's mine even though I've never 
held her, never loved her. Tears stung her eyes and she sniffed. She wouldn't 
cry now, wouldn't believe it was all really falling apart. But still...
Another ache came over Erin. She closed her eyes and rocked a little more, back 
and forth, back and forth. And she realized what it was. She missed her mom. 
Every time they'd talked recently E'rin hadn't been honest, hadn't told her 
exactly how strange things had gotten.
If only her mom were here, she'd say something positive, help find a light in 
what was becoming a dark, dismal tunnel. At the very least her mom would hold 
her. Erin sniffed again. That way she could break down the way she wanted to. 
Her mom understood how important this baby was, how special all babies were, 
however they came into the world.
Funny, too. Early in the process Erin had wondered whether she and her mother 
would connect over the adoption experience. Her social worker had suggested a 
mentor, a woman who had adopted children before, someone she could bond with 
through the process.
But no mentor had materialized.
37 
kingsbury smalley 
Her mother knew nothing about giving up a child, nothing about what Candy was 
going through, or the frightening thoughts 
Erin battled when she worried Candy might change her mind. But her mother 
understood love. 
And a .child was about love, whether she grew beneath a mother's heart or in it. 
Over the months Erin and her mom had shared dozens of conversations about the 
baby Candy was car rying, and always Erin was grateful for her mother, wishing 
their houses were blocks apart the way they'd been back in Bloomington. 
Erin opened her eyes and stared at the empty crib. 
She and her mother had sometimes dreamed for hours on the phone about names and 
ballet lessons and the joy of raising a lit tle girl. Other times Elizabeth had 
convinced Erin not to fear the future--even if Candy seemed unstable. Over the 
months, her mom had become a best friend, the ultimate sounding board and 
encourager. Because she was the perfect mentor. 
Even if she knew nothing about adoption at all. 
38 
39 
CHAPTER FOUR
Ashley's hands were shaking and she was only halfway to the doctor's office.
She'd called him as soon as she opened the test results envelope Friday morning, 
but he was booked for the day. He had Saturday calls at the hospital so he'd 
suggested the afternoon meeting time. Ashley would've met him on the moon if she 
had to. Whatever it took to have him explain the results face-to-face. So she 
understood them completely. Otherwise she couldn't possibly take the news to her 
family, not after all they'd been through.
She turned left on Main Street and focused on the road ahead of her. "God... go 
with me when I get there. Please..." She said
words out loud, the way she often prayed. It helped her remember that no matter 
how alone she felt, the Lord was with her, sitting beside her.
So much was riding on this day, on the meeting she was about to have with the 
doctor. Her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue along her lower lip. Without 
taking her eyes off the road, :she found a piece of gum in the front pocket of 
her purse, ' slipped off the wrapper, and popped it between her lips.
40 
REUNION
She hadn't been this nervous since the day a month ago when she and Landon 
gathered her family together and announced their engagement. The moment came 
alive again, and Ashley smiled. They had called her parents from the cemetery, 
where Landon had met her just after her friend Irvel's graveside service.
"Mom, it's me." Ashley sat beside Landon on a bench in the park adjacent to the 
cemetery. "Is Cole taking a nap?"
"He's awake." She hesitated, her voice lower than before. "We've been talking 
about death. He still has questions about Irvel's dying."
"Okay, well.., hey, guess what?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Landon met me 
here."
"Landon came?" Her mother's tone brightened. "How wonderful, honey. Why don't 
you bring him over?"
"Actually," she looked at Landon and grinned--"Landon and I have something to 
tell you. Something important. An announcement, I guess." She giggled. "We're 
going to drop my car off at my house and be right over, okay?"
By the time they had arrived at the Baxter house, her parents and Cole were 
gathered around the table with Kari, Ryan, Brooke, Peter, and the kids. It 
wasn't mealtime, so the moment Ashley and Landon walked into the house and 
across the dining room, all faces turned their way. Ashley found her mother and 
saw a knowing bit of emotion in her eyes.
"Wow." Ashley stopped, her eyes wide. "You're all here." Her throat grew too 
thick to speak, and she gave a few quick shakes of her head, her eyes downcast. 
She didn't want to cry, but her heart couldn't take more emotion than she'd 
already felt that day. Irvel dying, then this. In all her life she had never 
thought she'd have this moment, the chance to stand before her family and tell 
them the greatest news of her life. At first because of her own determination to 
avoid Landon, and later because of her affliction with HIV. But now...
Landon had taken her hand. He looked from Ashley's dad to her mom and at the 
other faces at the table. "Cole...'
41 
kingsbury smalley
Her son--not quite six years old--gave Landona little wave. "Grandma says you 
have a 'nouncement."
"That's right." He held out his arms. "Come here, Cole. I want to tell you 
something."
Cole slid his chair back and ran to Landon, jumping into his arms and letting 
Landon lift him up high the way he'd done when Cole was little. "So what's your 
'nouncement?"
"We, uh..." He'd smiled at Ashley, a smile that told her even though they were 
venturing into uncharted waters, he would never change his mind, never wish he'd 
walked away to find someone who wasn't sick. He turned back to Cole, aware that 
the rest of the family seated at the table was watching. "Cole, I've asked your 
mommy to marry me, and. she's said yes."
A gasp came from Cole. "Really?" The only thing wider than his eyes was his 
smile.
"Really." Ashley leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Cole
had loved Landon almost as long as she had.
No one stayed seated at the table.
They let out soft gasps and quiet exclamations as they left the table and 
surrounded Ashley and Landon and Cole.
Cole looped his arms around Landon's neck. "Does that mean you'll live with us 
and be my daddy?"
Landon pulled Ashley tighter, and she saw his chin quiver. "Yes, Cole. I'll be 
your daddy forever."
' Ashley's heart had overflowed with emotions she'd never felt before. How long 
had Landon wanted this moment, to claim Cole as his own? She bit her lip, a stab 
of guilt having its way with her for the flash of a second. If she hadn't been 
so stubborn they would've shared this moment a long time ago.
Her mother had made it through the circle, and Ashley saw she had tears in her 
eyes. For a while they only looked at each other, sharing a hundred unspoken 
memories: Ashley's rebellious teenage years, her shame after returning home from 
Paris, her efforts at keeping Landon away, her sorrow When he left for New York 
City, her heartache over losing Irvel. All of it played
42 
REUNION
out in her mother's eyes. Then their foreheads came together and they hugged. 
When her mother spoke, Ashley alone could hear her words. "It's about time."
Ashley turned into the hospital parking lot, still lost in her memories. Their 
announcement that day felt different, more emotional than when Kari had 
announced her engagement to Ryan or when any other bit of good news had been 
shared with all the Baxters. This time the news was bittersweet. Ashley and 
Landon would finally be together, the way they always should've been together.
But everything about their tomorrows was uncertain. Yes, Cole would have a 
father, and for now the two of them would have Ashley. But somewhere down the 
road heartache was bound to have the last word. Because of that, the emotions 
that day in the Baxter dining room were a mix of incomparable joy and borrowed 
sadness.
When the group had drifted back to the table, Landon stayed close to Ashley. He 
explained that he'd quit his job with the New York Fire Department, and that 
he'd be starting back at the Bloomington station the following week.
"Do we have a wedding date?" Ashley's father raised his eyebrows, his tone 
hopeful.
"Not yet." Landon paused and Ashley heard the pain in his voice. He would've 
married her that afternoon, but Ashley wanted to wait. He looked from Ashley to 
the others. "We're waiting to see what Ashley's new doctor says, what kind of 
treatment she should have." His smile was marked by determination and unshakable 
faith. "Sometime this summer, we hope."
Several weeks had passed since then, and Landon had asked several times about 
her test results. They weren't being rushed this time, and the doctor had said 
it could take longer because the blood panel was more detailed.
In the meantime, she and Landon and Cole had been inseparable. She was still 
working at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, and Landon had started back with the 
Bloomington Fire Depart
43 
ment. Cole was in preschool four days a week and took his afternoon naps with 
his grandma at the old Baxter house.
But every day Ashley would get off work well before dinner, pick up Cole, and 
stop by the station to see Landon. If he wasn't working, they'd head for the 
park or down to the lake or back to Ashley's house. Landon would wrestle with 
Cole, push him on the backyard swings, or chase him around the yard wearing a 
football helmet five sizes too small.
At night, they'd read books with Cole and tuck him im Sometimes Cole asked a 
question about the wedding--when it would happen, where it would be, whether 
Landon would move in with them that day or not. Landon usually pulled him into a 
hug and rocked him for a while, instead of answering right away. Then he'd say 
something like, "As soon as we have a plan, you'll be the first to know, okay 
bucko?"
Cole would be satisfied with that. The. three of them would share another round 
of hugs and say good night.
The most challenging times had been after Cole was asleep. Ashley had figured 
that with no sad good-byes looming over them, they'd have an easier time 
sticking to a reasonable curfew and avoiding temptation. But the passion and 
desire that had marked their visits those past few years had only intensified. 
They'd start watching a movie or playing a card game and that would lead to 
talking--deep conversations about how lonely
he'd felt in New York or how he'd wanted to stick it out because that's what his 
buddy Jalen would've done if he'd lived. As 
they'd move next to each other on the couch, holding hands, leaning against each 
other. And then the conversations
grew more intimate, about the way he thought of her contstantly after she left 
New York or about Ashley's inability to let
go no matter how often she'd tried to.
They also talked about the wedding, how Ashley wanted it to be at the
family's church and have a big reception, somewhere with a dance floor large 
enough for all the guests.
, But no matter what they talked about, eventually their eyes
44 
REUNION
would find each other and the conversation would stall. It had been that way 
yesterday, hours after she'd gotten the strange test results. Cole had been in 
bed, and they were sitting side by side talking about something at the fire 
station. "
"So I went into the supply room and--" Landon stopped midsentence.
Ashley turned so she could see him better. "Into the supply room and.., and 
what?"
A chuckle sounded in his throat. "I can't do this, Ashley."
She pressed her shoulder into the sofa back and grinned, amused at the pained 
look on his face. "Can't do what?"
"Supply rooms?" He moaned and let his head fall against hers. "How can I be 
telling a story about supply rooms when all I want to do is kiss you?"
She laughed and even as she was still catching her breath, he placed his hands 
on her face, eased her closer to him, and kissed her. It lasted a long time, and 
was colored by a longing that was greater than either of them.
Of course, in the end it had been easy for Ashley to pull away, to stop before 
anything serious happened. Like every other time they'd wound up in this 
situation, a single thought of her health, of being HIV-positive, and she would 
take a deep breath, stand, and help Landon to his feet. In an instant, disgust 
with her situation would replace the desire. "I'm tired, Landon." She would 
smile to hide her real feelings, "Let's call it a night."
No matter how badly she wanted to lie in his arms and give way to the feelings 
he stirred inside her, she wouldn't put him at risk. Maybe her doctor would give 
her safe ways to be intimate with him. If so, she'd explore those after they 
were married. For now, she loved him too much to let their kissing get out of 
hand.
She was out of her car now, and a cool breeze lifted her pants legs and played 
around her ankles. Spring in Bloomington was always like this--summer one day, 
winter the next, almost as if the seasons were battling to see which would win 
out.
Her hands trembled, and her heart beat faster than before. But
45 
kin g s b u r y s m alley
she wasn't afraid. In the next hour she'd know more about her future than she 
had in all her years combined.
She made her way inside and smiled at a woman behind the information desk. "I'm 
looking for Dr. Dillon's office. He said he'd be here today."
The woman directed her to the third floor, and five minutes later Ashley found 
the door with his name on it. Holding her breath, she knocked. Every heartbeat 
seemed to shout the same thing over and over at her: Soon, Ashley... soon, 
Ashley... soon, Ashley.
She'd have all the answers soon.
The door opened and Dr. Dillon smiled at her. "Come in." He ushered her to a 
chair in front of a big desk, and he took the one behind it. "You said you 
wanted to talk about your results?"
Ashley pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse, opened it, and read the 
results one more time. Then she pointed to the line near the bottom that read 
"HIV." 'Right here, Doctor. Could you.., could you explain this to me?"
A grin spread the width of the man's face. "It says negative, Ashley. You know 
what that means, don't you?"
Heat filled her cheeks, and she gave a quick shake of her head. "I'm 
HIV-positive, Dr. Dillon. You know that. I showed you my last test and you told 
me--" she grabbed a quick bit of air--"you told me the other lab had done the 
test twice. Just to be sure, and ,so we did these tests at your office to see 
how close I was to getting AIDS, and now I get this--" i "Ashley.. i" The doctor 
held up his hand, his eyes dancing
with joy, his smile gentle and sympathetic. "You don't have HIV. The test I had 
them do takes longer because it's much more detailed. I
trust it completely." He leaned back and tossed his hands in the air. "You're 
fine, Ashley. Perfectly fine. I contacted the lab yesterday after you called, 
and they verified the information you have in your hand. The test was negative."
Ashley's mouth hung open, and the room began to spin. All the emotions she had 
held at bay since opening the test results
46 
REUNION 
surrounded her, filled her so she could do nothing but cover her face with her 
hands and let the reality sink in. 
She was HIV-negative? She didn't have a disease lurking in her bloodstream that 
would make her sick and put Landon at risk and rob her of every beautiful thing 
she and Landon and Cole wanted for their future? She didn't have it? 
Since taking the first HIV test, she had simply owned the truth. She'd been 
intimate with a promiscuous man, and now she would pay the price with her life. 
Her prayers, in the mean time, had been directed toward staying healthy as long 
as possi ble, and wanting someone to take care of Cole once she contracted AIDS 
and died. She had even asked God to give her the courage to see a doctor, to 
accept whatever treatments that would bring. 
But never had she prayed that the results might be wrong. HIV had been a life 
sentence, her body a prison from which she could never escape. But now.., now 
the test results were the key to that prison, and the sense of freedom made her 
forget for a moment that Dr. Dillon was even in the room. 
God... did you heal me or was it negative all along? And if it was negative all 
along, how awful that she'd wasted a year of her life worried that she had the 
beginnings of a deadly disease. 
' The thought blew across the canvas of her mind, and she blinked her eyes open. 
She could hardly be angry. It didn't mat ter, really, how God had done this. He 
was giving her a second 
chance at life and there was only one thing she wanted to do. Sprint from the 
doctor's office and find Landon. 
Instead she looked at the doctor. He was still grinning, his eyes damp. "How... 
how does something like that happen?" she asked. 
"A false positive?" The doctor leaned forward and sifted through a pile of 
papers on his desk. "I figured you'd ask that. I pulled together some 
information on false positives so you'd understand better." 
"You mean you've heard of it happening before?" 
47 
kingsbury smalley
"Oh yes." His smile faded. "The Centers for Disease Control keeps statistics on 
this sort of thing. Out of every ten thousand people tested for HIV, ten will 
show up positive. Eight of those will be false positives, and only two in ten 
thousand will actually have HIV."
The statistics hit Ashley like a brick. "What?"
"Yes." Dr. Dillon frowned. "It's discouraging. Roughly 83 per-
"How come the public doesn't know that?" Ashley could hear
the frustration in her voice. Calm, she told herself. You re one of
the 83 percent, remember,? She exhaled and folded her hands
on
her lap. had no Idea.
"It's tough. HIV is a very real risk; people around the world are still 
contracting it every day, still dying of AIDS every day.
Lots of people are working to find a cure for it. Dr Dillon
.
tapped the paper in front of him "If the statistics about false positives get 
out, the Centers for Disease Control could lose momentum
for funding. So they downplay the truth. That's just my opinion."
Ashley couldn't draw a breath. Eighty-three percent of posi-
tive HIV tests were false positives? She forced herself to concentrate. "Can't 
they come up with a better test?"
"The standard test is less expensive and takes less time. The truth is that 
countless conditions in a person's body can throw the test off, cause it to show 
positive when in fact it's negative. That's why both your first tests came back 
positive." He continued, "You might've had a different virus at the time, a 
level of one type of protein or mineral, or any number of conditions that 
could've caused the false positive."
"So everyone who gets a false positive has to be retested--is it?" "Exactly. 
That way the more detailed test can be performed away, and a false positive can 
be ruled out." The doctor showed her the paper with the information. "Didn't the 
other lab technician tell you to see your doctor right away?"
48 
A fresh wave of guilt smacked Ashley in the face. "Yes." The single word felt 
like it weighed a thousand pounds. Of course they told her that: Get a retest, 
see your doctor, figure out a plan. She'd known for months now what she was 
supposed to do. Both her father and Brooke were doctors, after all, and both of 
them had demanded she get in to see a specialist. 
But she hadn't wanted to do it, hadn't wanted to look a doctor 
in the face and hear him chart out what little remained of her life. Getting 
treatment, going in for monthly blood tests, expen sive medication, all of it 
was more than she could think about. So she'd put off making the appointment. 
The full weight of her procrastination hit her. If she'd done as 
she was supposed to, she and Landon would've been married by now. She thought 
about the deadly warehouse fire he had fought in Manhattan before he made the 
decision to return to Bloom ington. He never would've been there if she'd said 
yes to him, if she'd not been so afraid of seeing a doctor. 
A shudder worked its way through her, and she closed her 
eyes again. God... thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank 
you. 
I know the plans I have for you, daughter.., plans 
to give you a hope and a future, and not to harm you. 
The verse was her favorite, and it came softly to her now, brushing over the 
rough edges of her heart and bringing peace to her anxious soul. 
"Ashley? Do you need a minute alone?" 
The doctor's voice brought her back and she looked at him. 
She felt like crying, but at the same time she was so happy she laughed out 
loud. Never mind the mistakes she'd made in the past. God was bigger than all of 
them, and suddenly she was filled with a kind of joy she'd never known before. 
A sense of freedom and knowing and abundant life all wrapped into one big flame 
that lit her up and made her feel like shouting. God had given her a second 
chance! She had Cole and Landon and love and life and now... 
49 
kingsbury smalley
She gathered her purse and the paper and shook Dr. Dillon's hand. "If there's 
nothing else, Doctor, I have to meet someone."
"I'd like you to come twice a year for checkups, just to keep an eye on your 
other blood levels. Sometimes after a false-positive HIV test we find something 
out of whack that needs an adjustment, but nothing serious."
Ashley was already halfway to the door. She nodded, thanked the doctor, and 
darted into the hall. When she was outside she flipped open her cell phone and 
called Landon. She glanced at her watch. Five to four. Perfect. He would be off 
in five minutes.
On the second ring, she heard him pick up. He knew she was seeing the doctor 
today, but he had no idea about the test results.
ey,
Ash.' His tone was soft, intimate. As if not a minute's time ,
had passed since their kiss on the couch last night." How was the doctor?"
Tears flooded her eyes as she leaned against the outside wall of the hospital. 
"Landon..." Saying his name released more of the emotions building within her. 
She waited until the lump in
eased some. "Meet me at Lake Monroe. At our table,
"N ? " " " ?
ow. Alarm sounded in his votce. Ash, what is it. Stay
there, honey. I can meet you. If this is something bad, don't worry about me."
Landon. A nervous giggle slipped out. She cleared her throat. "It's talk 
nothingthe lake,bad -I justs,, need to see you face-to-face. I
D ant to at oaay.
B ,,H,e hesitated. "You're sure you're okay?" il/' Yes." She had more control 
now. "Lake Monroe in fifteen
minutes, all right?"
Bi,.
"Okay. I'm on my way."
50 
51 
The ride to Lake Monroe was the longest in Landon's life. Of all the situations 
he'd faced and survived in the past three years something told him this would be 
the most memorable. Finding his friendJalen in the rubble of the collapse of the 
twin towers was of course unforgettable. Working in New York City a rush, with 
countless dangers and sorrows, but still it was only a job.
Ashley was his future, his fiancee, the only woman he'd ever loved. This 
afternoon she'd seen the doctor, and whatever he'd told her was big enough that 
she wanted somewhere special to tell him the news.
He turned left out of the fire-station parking lot and heard her again in his 
mind. It's nothing bad.., nothing bad.., nothbad...
But what if it was? What news could the doctor possibly give that would be 
dramatic enough to make her.start crying the she had when he answered the phone? 
He tightened his grip the steering wheel and flexed the muscles in his jaw. 
God... more, please. Not now. I want to marry her and love her be a family with 
Cole. Please, God...
52 
REUNION 
He arrived at the lake before her, parked, and sauntered down the hilly path to 
their table. It was the spot where the Baxters had their family picnic every 
August, the place where he and Ashley had stayed late one night talking about 
her time in Paris, the de tails she'd never shared with anyone else. 
Damp leaves lay across the table's surface. Landon brushed them off, climbed up, 
and sat on the tabletop facing the shore, his feet on the bench. The lake was 
choppy, a cool breeze play ing across the top of the water. Rain was forecast 
for the middle of the week, but the afternoon sky was crystal clear, a brilliant 
blue that splashed light through the still-bare trees and made the whitecaps on 
the lake shine like so many diamonds. 
Would life always be like this with Ashley? Each doctor's ap pointment a 
stoplight of sorts, flashing red until another test or an experimental drug 
might give them a green light and allow them to journey on together until the 
next stop? 
Landon stared at the sky and tried to see beyond it. This was what Ashley had 
tried to protect him from, the uncertainty that came with her diagnosis. He 
gritted his teeth and dug his elbows into his knees. All the more reason why 
he'd be strong for her to day, whatever the news. So what if their lives were 
dotted with a dozen doctor's appointments every year? At least they had today. 
Hearing a car in the lot behind him, he turned around. After a minute, Ashley 
appeared. Dressed in thin cotton sweatpants and a bulky sweater, she spotted him 
and stopped. Then a smile ap peared, first in her eyes and then across her face. 
"Landon!" She ran lightly down the path until she was standing in front of him, 
breathless, her eyes dancing. 
For the first time since her phone call Landon considered an outlandish idea. 
What if the news hadn't been bad or neutral? What if the news had been good? He 
gave a quiet laugh. "What ever the doctor said, I didn't think you'd run down 
the hill laughing." 
She gripped his shoulders and searched his eyes. "Landon, the test was 
negative." 
53 
He felt his face go blank. "What test?"
Her smile faded and she took a step closer. "I don't have HIV. The doctor 
explained the whole thing to me. They..." Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto 
her cheeks.
Landon's heart thudded hard against his ribs. What had she just said? She didn't 
have HIV? He brushed his fingertips beneath her eyes and pushed her tears up 
along her cheekbones intoher hair. She didn't have HIV? Did that mean she had 
full blown AIDS, or something different? It couldn't possibly mean she was.., 
his thoughts jumbled and he couldn't make sense of
don'tu derstand."
It s true, Landon. She sniffed anSmade a sound that was mostly laugh. "The other 
tests--botln of themwwere false positives. I'm not infected. The doctor 
explained everything. I guess it happens a lot--false positives." She eased her 
hands along his arms. "I'm not sick; I'm not going to get sick." A sob escaped 
and she moved closer, hugging him, holding on to him. "I'm free, Landon. We're 
both free!"
The truth worked its way through him, and he held her so he
would somehow believe he wasn't dreaming. This was really happening, wasn't it? 
Ashley was standing in front of him telling him
the entire situation with HIV was behind them, right? He
drew back enough to see her eyes, to search them and know for sure she was being 
straight with him, that there wasn't some part of the story she was leaving out. 
"You mean it, Ash? That's what the doctortold you?"
"Yes." She pulled away, threw her head back, tossed her arms straight up, and 
did a victory shout. "Yes... yes.., yes! Thank
God!" Then she rushed into his arms again.
"You know what this means?"
"Yes." She did a series of small jumps and clung tight to him again. 
"Everything's going to be okay!"
'' "Not that." Landon nuzzled his face against hers. "It means
we haveto set 
54 
REUNION
"A date! Of course." Ashley's voice grew softer, more seductive. "How 'bout 
tonight?"
"Mmmm." He kissed her until both of them were breathless. Then he gave her a 
gentle push. "Okay, come on. I can't remember
my name when you kiss me that way."
She grinned. "That's the plan, Sam."
"Tell me about it." He chuckled under his breath and felt a shiver run down his 
spine. He couldn't wait to marry her, to love her the way he'd longed to love 
her. A slow breath filled his lungs. His desire would have to wait. "I'm 
serious, Ash. It takes time to plan a wedding."
"My mom will help me." Ashley angled herself sideways and leaned against him, 
taking in the view of the lake. "She's great at planning weddings."
"So what's the date?'
"How 'bout July?"
Landon had the Saturdays throughout summer memorized. "July 5, 12, 19, or 26?"
Ashley laughed. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"
"Of course." His tone grew serious and he searched her eyes. "I want it to be 
everything you ever dreamed of, Ashley."
She thought for a moment. "Let's have it July nineteenth; that
way it won't be too close to the Fourth."
"When should we tell your family?"
"Let's tell them tomorrow night!" Ashley glowed with the realization. "I forgot 
until now. Dad called and invited us for dinner. Kari and Brooke and their 
families will be there. It'll be perfect."
"Cole's going to be so excited." Landon ran his fingers down the length of her 
arms, his cheek next to hers as they stared at the
shimmering water. "I can't believe it's all really going to happen." "Me 
either."
He savored the feel of her body against him, the way she leaned into him almost 
as if he alone could keep her safe, shelter
55 
kingsbury smalJey
her, celebrate with her whatever the future held. A thought occurred to him, 
something that hadn't hit him yet. Because of her HIV, they had agreed not to 
have more children, that Cole would be enough. But now... "I wanna have a dozen 
babies, okay, Ash?"
Her answer took a long time. "Okay."
She was quiet, and he wondered if maybe she didn't want children after
all. But then he saw her cheeks. She was blinking, soft tears that fell despite 
the partial smile that played on her lips."We 
can have children, Landon. Can you believe that? God is so good."
"Yes. Now if only it were July eighteenth." He snuggled
her again, the truth about the news finally feeling real. "It's going to seem 
like forever." "For both of us." "And Cole, too.'
Ashley laughed. "He'll ask us every day, 'How many months,
How many weeks and days and hours?'"
A jet passed overhead, and the honk of Canadian geese sounded
in the distance. "I love you, Ashley Baxter." He turned so he could see her eyes 
again. "I didn't need this news to love you,
But now.., now look at what tomorrow holds."
Ashley looked straight to the deepest part of his soul. "Landon
in the painting that is our lives, all we've been through to this point is only 
the backdrop. Today--" she sucked in breath--"this moment.., is the first 
stroke, the beginning of the most beautiful picture. A picture even I can't 
imagine."
She kissed him once more. Landon savored it because this it wasn't the kiss of 
longing and passion but of a love both
A love that would see them through a lifetime of highs and lows, the way Hank's 
love had seen Irvel through,
her dying day.
56 
57 
Elizabeth usually took quick showers. Just long enough to shampoo her hair, wash 
up, and shave her legs. The time, her mind would race in a dozen different 
directions.
Cole was coming for the afternoon, how late John had to work, which errands had 
to be run, and what she'd cook for dinner. 
this was late Sunday afternoon, and dinner was already
in a Crock-Pot downstairs. John was in his study, working
on patient files, and in two hours her family would arrive. By the end of the 
evening, they would all know the truth of
her diagnosis: that she would be having a double mastectomy on Monday morning.
hot water ran down her frame. Elizabeth reached for a washcloth, her favorite 
one, a thick, soft white cotton cloth she'd bought in New York City last 
December as part of a set. She intended to enjoy her last shower before
surgery.
The soap was new also. A fragrant lilac bar she'd gotten as a gift for 
Christmas. Funny how she had let it sit, unopened, on the
sink all these weeks. Too busy to open it and use it, plain green soap did the 
job just fine.
58 
REUNION 
She rubbed the soap into the washcloth, and the lather filled her senses. She 
set the bar down and slowly worked the sudsy cloth across her chest. 
She brought her right elbow up over her head, and her breast lifted to where it 
had been before children and time had taken its toll. No, they weren't much by 
the world's standards, but they were hers, a part of her. The part that had so 
often been the source of passion between her and John, the part that had brought 
nourishment and comfort to each of her five kids. The part that had filled out a 
sweater or a dress or a bathing suit. 
Even after her first bout with cancer, she had taken her breasts for granted. 
Every time she looked in the mirror they were there, giving her a feminine shape 
and softening her thin frame. 
She shifted the soapy cloth to her right hand and raised her left elbow over her 
head. Tomorrow they'd be gone, the part of her that had made her feel like a 
woman. She studied them, will ing it all to be a mistake somehow. They didn't 
look diseased, did they? 
The surgery would be brutal, barbaric. A surgeon's scalpel would press to her 
sides, leaving grotesque scars and mutated shallow valleys where once lay the 
curves of her chest. Was that all the further they'd come in cancer research? It 
was the twenty- first century and still the best option for cancer was to cut it 
out? 
Elizabeth ran the cloth over her chest and willed herself not to cry. Of course 
cancer treatment had progressed. They had new medications now, treatments that 
ten years ago wouldn't have been an option. It was those types of treatments, 
and medica tions like the one Elizabeth had been taking, that had probably kept 
the cancer away for so long. 
She finished washing the rest of herself. She thought about how strange it would 
be not to have her breasts, to move about without the gentle weight of her chest 
as part of her being. 
Again she looked at herself and wondered. How would John see her after the 
surgery? Of course he'd told her a number of times that it wouldn't matter; 
after all their years together his 
59 
kingsbury , smalley
love went far deeper than her looks, her figure. But still.., he'd loved that 
part of her, hadn't he? And now, even if she wore prosthetics, he would know 
they were gone, the same way she would know it.
If only she could stay here in the shower, hot water running over her body, her 
figure still whole and complete. She closed
her eyes and lifted her face to the pounding stream. For a long
while she let it wash over her face.
She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe she was crying.
Maybe mixed in with the water flowing down around her still- curvy body were 
more of her tears. They certainly came without warning since the diagnosis.
Time was getting away from her. She shampooed her hair and wondered if she'd 
have any of it left after the chemotherapy. It
still thick, still dark and shiny the way it had been when she was a teenager. 
Some gray had worked its way into her temples
near her forehead, but for the most part it was still dark. Elizabeth thought 
about God, the Lord and Savior she'd spent her lifetime worshiping. Being a 
believer meant there'd be times like
this; wasn't that what she'd learned over the years? Times
nothing made sense and all she could do was dig her fingers
into her faith and hold on for dear life.
It was the way she'd felt all those years ago when she and John
ere in trouble, the way she'd felt when Kari's husband was killed, and again 
when Ashley was diagnosed with HIV. It was the way she'd felt when Hayley fell 
into a backyard pool last summer and came out a changed little girl. And it was 
the way she felt now.
God... heal me. Let them open me up and find that it's all a mistake, please,
God... She hesitated, the whisper of a prayer still on her lips, the stream of 
water washing .the shampoo down her
If not, God... then give me the strength. Please give me the strength.
Ever since the diagnosis, she'd finished her prayers that way.
because she needed strength to face the surgery and the
60 
REUNION
cancer and her family tonight as she told them the news. But because every time 
she prayed, God gave her the same overwhelming sense. A sense that the cancer 
was worse than any of them realized, that the double mastectomy would only be 
the beginning.
And that sometime in the not-too-far distance, she would be leaving the people 
she loved so much.
It was a thought that terrified her beyond words, beyond her ability to take 
even a single step toward tomorrow. So she prayed for strength now as much as 
she'd been doing, and she was sure the Lord was listening. Because somehow she 
was able to turn off the water, step out of the shower, and dry off.
Knowing that every step led her closer to Monday and whatever the future held.
Kari was practically bursting with the news.
She held Jessie's hand as the two of them walked toward the football field. 
Jessie jabbered about the grass and the flowers and
the birds overhead. "Mommy, see that birdie?"
"I do. He's pretty, isn't he?"
"He's a robin, Mommy." Jessie sounded like a cartoon character, her singsong 
voice small and petite the way everything about her was. "See his red. He's a 
robin."
"You're right, honey. Very good."
"Robins come in spring, Mommy. Pretty red robins, right?" "Yes, honey."
Kari chuckled to herself and kept them moving. Jessie was still a towhead, but 
her blonde hair was getting darker all the time. At two years old she looked 
like a miniature Kari, but she was every bit as intellectual as her father had 
been.
Kari gazed at the blue sky and wondered again. If Tim could see his daughter; 
he'd be so proud. But the truth was, his mark
61 
kingsbury smalley
on her life was all but gone. She was far more Ryan's little girl, a child full 
of life and light and her daddy's precious faith,
"Daddy!" Jessie pointed at a tall figure on the sidelines of the football field. 
She pulled her hand from Kari's and ran toward him, her yellow sneakers lighting 
up with every step, "Daddy.,. here I am, Daddy!"
Ryan was holding a practice with a few of the quarterbacks. : Spring passing 
leagues would begin in a few weeks, and the guys had asked him to come out and 
throw a few balls around. It was
afternoon, but Kari didn't mind. She'd been more tired
than usual, and after church she and Jessie had spent the morning cleaning 
Jessie's closet, while Ryan headed for the school. It wasn't until they'd 
finished cleaning that Kari had the idea. She needed supplies at the store, so 
why not pick up a pregnancy test?
Her period had been due a week ago, and her body didn't feel right. She and 
Jessie had done their shopping, and
got home she took the test to the bathroom and stared at it. The last time she'd 
taken a pregnancy test, she'd dreaded
results. This time would be different.
She and Ryan had wanted another baby, but month after month
her period would come. They'd talk about what they be doing wrong, how maybe it 
wasn't the right time, or
she needed vitamins, or perhaps something was wrong
something left over from the football injury years ago. Whatever it was, their 
concern was beginning to demand some
sort of plan. They had agreed to see a doctor this summer if she didn't get 
pregnant by then, and they'd even discussed the
scenario. What if Kari couldn't get pregnant? Since Ryan still had most of his 
NFL earnings in a savings account, money
wasn't an issue. They would do whatever they could to have a baby. In vitro 
fertilization, embryo mplantation, what- techniques were available.
/..Kari picked up her pace so she could keep up with the fireball who
was their little daughter. "Wait for Mommy, honey..."
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Jessie didn't turn around. Her ponytail flopped as she ran. "Daddy, here I am!"
This time he heard her. Out of all the noises on the field--a dozen voices, and 
the sounds of whistles and footballs being thrown and caught--he heard her and 
turned around. Even from fifty yards away Kari saw his face light up.
He dropped his clipboard and ran to meet her, arms out. "Hey,
what's my Jessie girl doing out here?"
"Pretty robins, Daddy!"
He winked at Kari and caught Jessie as she jumped into his arms. Twice he 
twirled her around as fast as the wind; then he hugged her close and rubbed his 
nose against hers. "You and
Mommy decided to get out, huh?"
"We're going swinging."
"Perfect." Ryan kissed her on the forehead and set her down. As big as he 
was--the tall former NFL tight end--Ryan Taylor couldn't have been more gentle 
with her or with Jessie.
He took the extra few steps to'Kari. "You're gonna stay for a while?"
"Yes, but--" Kari gave his arm a light tug--"come here for a minute. I have 
something to tell you."
A pained look flashed in his eyes. "Honey, I'd love to but--" he looked back at 
the fieldm"the guys can only stay another
thirty minutes." His eyes found hers. "Can it wait?"
"Sure." She smiled, determined to be agreeable.
"Thanks, Kari." He gave her a quick kiss. "You're the best." He gave a light tug 
on Jessie's ponytail. "Go play with Mommy now, okay? I'll be done in a little 
while and we can all swing together."
Jessie clapped her hands. "Goody, Daddy. You can swing with me!"
Disappointment ripped at Kari as she and Jessie turned toward the swings, but 
she refused to let it change her mood. She could wait half an hour, couldn't 
she? "Ready to swing Jessie?"
63 
"Yes!" She skipped ahead, moving as fast as her little feet would carry her. 
"Catch me, Mommy. Come on!"
The high school sat adjacent to the grade school, and often Kari brought Jessie 
here so they could play together and visit with Ryan on his breaks. This was the 
first time since winter that they'd made it here, and now that Jessie was older, 
Kari was exCited about the months of football that lay ahead.
This was how she'd always dreamed it might be--married to Ryan, raising children 
at home without a career to sidetrack her. She'd done only a handful of 
catalogue modeling shoots since fall, and even then she wondered at the wisdom 
of taking the jobs. They didn't need her to work, and if God might bless them 
with more children, modeling would have to wait. Years, maybe. "Okay, Mommy, 
push me!" Jessie was agile for her age and afraid of nothing. She worked herself 
up into one of the smaller swings, gripped the chains, and held on. "Ready!"
Kari set her purse and keys down and gave her daughter two pushes. Then she 
moved in front of Jessie the way she'd seen Ryan do it. She positioned herself 
right where Jessie's shoes were
able to hit her backside, and she bent forward some. As Jessie came swinging 
toward her, Kari made a loud noise and began to fall forward. "Hey . . . what're 
you doing, silly
Jessie squealed with delight. "Again, Mommy! Again!"
her again and then hurried around in front of the pretending to get kicked by 
Jessie's yellow sneakers. Kari
her backside and made a funny face. "Listen you, Miss Shoes, how come you keep 
kicking me?"
i:They played the game a few more times, and then Kari swept
off the swing and tumbled with her in the nearby grass,
her and chasing her until they both fell onto their backs,
as they were standing up, Ryan came running over. like I'm missing all the fun!"
We played kick the mommy, tickle the daughter, and
64 
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chase." Kari blew at a wisp of her hair. "Now we're both tuckered OUt."
He studied them, his eyes bright, a reflection, Kari knew, of the way his heart 
was so full these days. She got to her feet and headed toward him. "About that 
thing I wanted to tell you...'!
"Oh, sorry." He pointed back at the field. "We're done practicing, but I want 
you to meet someone. One of my new assistants. He worked with the Cowboys back 
when I was a player, but his wife's mother moved here a few years ago. She's 
being treated for some health thing through the hospital." Ryan shrugged. "He 
took a break from the pros and they settled into their house a year ago. When he 
heard I was coaching, he followed us last season. This year he figured if I can 
coach a bunch of kids and enjoy it, maybe he could too."
"Okay, that's great, but first let me tell you what I--" "Remember, we had a 
meeting at his house last week? I told you about him that night, about his 
family and how his home is the way I want ours to be one day."
Kari couldn't think straight. She didn't want to talk about one of the coaches; 
she wanted to tell Ryan the news. She forced herself to concentrate. "Ryan, 
can't I meet him later? I wanted to--"
"Come on, sweetheart; it'll just take a minute. Really." He gestured toward the 
field again. As he did, Jessie came up and wrapped her arms around his legs. 
"The guy's coming right now. Meet him and then we'll talk."
"All right." Kari managed another smile. Ryan wasn't trying to be difficult; he 
was only excited about having a new friend. But she could hardly wait for the 
moment to be over.
A good-looking man came into view, tall with dark blond hair and the familiar 
build Kari had seen on other football-player friends of Ryan's. Beside him was 
one of the players from the
high school team. The boy looked like he'd been crying. "Don't ask," Ryan 
whispered. "I'll tell you later."
The coach and player were closer now and Ryan put his arm around Kari. "Jim 
Flanigan, this is my wife, Kari, and--" he
65 
kingsbury smalley
pried Jessie off his legs and turned her to face his assistant--"our daughter, 
Jessie."
Jim patted Jessie on the head and shook Kari's hand. They talked for nearly ten 
minutes about the pro-coaching circuit and how hard it was to never know if 
you'd have a job from one year to the next.
"I thought I'd miss it more." Jim smiled, and his eyes had a familiar glow. "But 
God's given me something new here." He shrugged. "I figured we'd stay here a 
year or two, untilJenny's mom could be moved to the East Coast somewhere. But a 
year of the pros and I can't say I miss it."
"Bloomington's not a bad place." Ryan patted the player on the shoulder and 
glanced at Kari. "You remember Cody? Cody He'll be a freshman next year. One of 
our top receiver. 
"Hi,
Cody." Kari smiled at him. She enjoyed this. Any other time she would've wanted 
the conversation to last another hour. her news was practically bursting out of 
her. "You've been
to the house before, haven't you?"
Ryan had the guys over for a barbecue before two-a-day practice each
summer. She was sure she'd seen Cody before. "Yes, ma'am." He nodded and looked 
down at the grass. Now Kari was sure he'd been crying. Clearly he didn't want to 
be
dragged into the conversation. He hung back some and
l his toe at a clump of dirt.
"Anyway, Ryan was saying you have a great church." Jim nodded his head, and his 
grin brought out dimples in both
"To be honest, we haven't found a church home yet. we can join you next Sunday." 
"Sure." Kari smiled, first at Ryan and then at Jim. Ryan kept the conversation 
going. "I was telling Jim we'd like to have his family over after the service 
some Sunday. He has six children,
three of them adopted from Haiti." Ryan smiled at her, but
deeper love shone in his eyes. "I thought it might be a nice
adoption story."
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"Yes. That would be nice." This was why she loved Ryan so much. He was always 
thinking of her, always looking out for her. He wanted to make this new friend 
Jim feel welcome, but he also wanted the four of them to get together so Jim and 
his wife could share their adoption story. In case Kari never got pregnant and 
adoption was a road they chose to travel.
"We're a big group." Jim raised an eyebrow. "I'll have my wife call to see what 
we can bring."
"That'd be nice." Kari smiled at the new man. "I'd like to meet her. Sounds like 
you have quite the family."
They said their good-byes and Jim shook both their hands. Then he nodded at 
Cody, who quickly did the same. When they walked off together, Jim put his arm 
around Cody's shoulders and they appeared to fall immediately into heavy 
conversation.
For a moment, Kari forgot about her news. "What's the story with Cody?"
"He lives down the street from Jim and Jenny. I guess they've
been talking for a while now."
"Was he crying?"
Ryan nodded, and the smile left his eyes. "Cody came clean with us today. He's 
been drinking."
"Oh." Kari's heart sank. The young man was clean-cut, with a chiseled face and 
good looks. What made a kid like that decide to drink? "I'm sorry. How bad is 
it?"
"Bad." Ryan stooped down and lifted Jessie onto his hip. "The last few nights 
he's been drinking so much he blacks out. He told us he didn't know if he could 
live like that another week. Like
maybe he'd drink so much he'd never wake up."
"Ryan, that's terrible. Where's he getting it?"
"His mom. She's a single parent. Works at a strip club on the other side of the 
university. I guess she's pretty abusive."
"She beats him?" Kari pictured the stocky football player and had trouble 
imagining anyone pushing him around.
"Not like that. More with her words, telling him he's a failure, that he's a 
loser like his father, berating him for the smallest of
67 
kingsbury smalley
fense." Ryan shook his head. "There's more, but it isn't pretty." He nodded to 
Jessie. "I'll tell you later."
Sorrow filled Kari's heart as she started walking toward the swings. "Sad,"
Ryan fell in step beside her. "Something has to be done about it."
"More swings, Daddy!" Jessie raised her hands toward the
swing. "Please!"
"Okay, sweetie." Ryan set their daughter down on the same swing where she had 
played before. He set the swing in motion with a flick of his hand. Then he 
turned to Kari. "Cody turned fifteen last week. He's talking about moving in 
with Jim and his family." 
"Really?" Kari crossed her arms. "I thought they already had kids."
"They do." Ryan shook his head and made a chuckling sound. family's amazing, 
Kari. They have this big old house with apartment over the garage. Their kids' 
friends are always in and next fall some college girl is moving into the 
apartment. I guess she's coming to Bloomington to start a Christian theatre. 
"WOW." ,
i "Yeah." Ryan gave Jessie another push. "The guy has all the
he could want, but his house isn't a showroom. It's filled with
photographs of kids and all this well-loved furniture. It's
really. You can feel God's heart the minute you walk in the door."
"Huh." Kari angled her head. "And now they're taking Cody
"It looks that way. If his mom will agree." Ryan slipped in front of 
Jessie and pretended to get hit on his bottom. He rubbed :hard and made a funny 
face at her. Silly Daddy."
a few times he returned to the other side of the swing
her again. "Cody needs a safe place where there's no
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alcohol. That's the only way he's going to survive." Ryan bit his lip. "He's 
such a great kid, Kari. Until today, he'd been talking to Jim in the evenings, 
coming by their house. But neither of us had any idea things had gotten so bad."
The sun was setting, and suddenly Kari remembered her news. She was about to say 
something when Ryan lifted Jessie from the swing and held her high over his 
head. "We're going to Grandma and 'Papa's house for dinner tonight; did you know 
that, Jessie?"
"Yay, I I like Grandma and Papa's house."
Suddenly Kari had an idea. She could wait and tell Ryan the news at dinner, with 
everyone around. That way they could all celebrate the moment together. She and 
Ryan would laugh about how she'd come to the football field to tell him, and how 
they'd ended up talking about a handful of other things instead.
Besides, a sadness still hung over the moment, the thought of one of Ryan's 
football players so caught up in drinking that he feared for his life. How 
wonderful that Jim and his wife were willing to take him in.
Ryan was right. That was the kind of home the two of them planned to have one 
day, a place where kids would feel welcome and safe, where their own children 
could see them demonstrate Christ's love through example. Ten years down the 
road maybe, when they'd had a few more children of their own and life was a bit 
more stable than it was now.
Kari thought about the announcement she'd make tonightat dinner. Yes, their 
family was still becoming, but that was a good thing. In fact, she could hardly 
wait until they were all together at the Baxter house. She and Ryan were going 
to have a baby!
And nothing in the world could dampen that sort of news.
69 
CHAPTER SEVEN
John stayed in the kitchen with Elizabeth, helping her get the meal ready. The 
news wasn't out yet, and already a dark cloud seemed to hang over the house, as 
if the walls and win- knew the truth.
Elizabeth was sick. Maybe she was very sick. And the reality was so heavy on 
John's heart he could barely find the strength to keep
standing. Next to him she worked on the salad, a mixture of and dark greens, 
chopped tomatoes and mushrooms, cheese, and sesame seeds.
This had always been Elizabeth's way. No bagged salad and croutons for Elizabeth 
Baxter. She'd been a home ec major when he met her, and no matter how busy or 
big family grew, she always took time to cook them healthy meals. He admired her 
from three feet away, how she held the mushroom just so, working her knife 
across it and tossing per into the salad bowl.
"You're beautiful; do you know that?" He stirred a heavy spoon through the 
bubbling beef stew in the Crock-Pot. "John--" she lifted her eyes to him, but 
only for a moment--
70 TO
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"I'm making salad, for goodness' sake. You can't say I'm beautiful when I'm 
working." She set the knife down and brushed her hair out of her eyes with the 
back of her hand. "I look like I'm working."
"You always look beautiful when you're working." He left the spoon in the stew 
and moved closer. "Your eyes shine with thoughts of our kids and their families. 
And each vegetable or bit of cheese is your way of telling them you love them."
She lowered her chin, and her eyes grew damp. "How come you know me so well, 
John Baxter?"
"Thirty-five years, Elizabeth. Can you believe that? Thirty- five years I've 
been watching you make dinner and salad and meals for this family, and not once 
have I stopped and watched you and not thought you look beautiful." He touched 
the side of her face. "Are you okay? About tonight, I mean?"
"I'm not sure." She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his hand. "It 
won't be easy."
"No." John sucked in a slow breath. It would be the hardest night of his life, 
if he was honest. "We'll get through it, though. This way everyone'll be 
praying; everyone'll be behind you when you go in tomorrow."
She nodded and picked up the knife again. Three more mushrooms were sliced and 
tossed into the salad bowl before she looked up. "Why... why does it feel like 
the beginning of the end?'
"Oh, honey, come here." He folded her into his arms, stroking the back of her 
head, her thick dark hair. His words were for her alone, spoken straight to her 
soul, more of a whispered cry than a confident statement. "We can beat this 
thing; I know we can. You've gotta believe that, okay?"
The bell rang, and they heard the front door open. Elizabeth straightened and 
sniffed twice. She reached for a tissue and held it beneath her nose. "Pray for 
me, John. I don't want them to know something's wrong. Not yet."
She turned and blew her nose. He saw her slip her hands be
71 
neath the kitchen faucet, and he knew what she'd do. She'd stay there at the 
sink until the kids entered the house and then, because she was genuinely glad 
to see them, she'd put on a happy face and all would be well.
At least for another hour.
Kari and Ryan and Jessie arrived first. Kari hugged John, and he couldn't help 
but feel something was different about her. 'They explained that they'd spent 
the afternoon outside at the
football field.
Jessie chimed in. "We did swings, Papa." She tugged on his
pant leg until he patted her head. "It was so fun."
"I'll bet it was."
Ryan launched into a story about his newest assistant coach,
A man who'd coached in the NFL and had a big family in town. There were more 
details, but John stopped listening. His thoughts were limited to Elizabeth, and 
how she was handling her emotions in the next room. How this might be the last 
time for a long time that their house would be filled with the sounds of happy
grandchildren.
He'd visited friends with cancer before. The feel of death hung in
the air, and happiness had a hard time gaining ground. It was hard to imagine 
the Baxter house that way, hard to picture canLg
the place where they'd all shared so much love and happiness. 
Ashley and Landon and Cole arrived next, and again John was aback by the joy in 
their eyes. Was it his imagination or Ashley and Landon practically bursting 
about some sort of news? John tried to imagine what it could be. Ashley had 
doctor that week, but nothing he could've said would explain the way his 
daughter's eyes were dancing tonight.
Then again, maybe there was nothing new. Maybe this was !simply the way the two 
of them looked now that Ashley wasn't from love. John led them into the family 
room where Kari and Ryan and Jessie were waiting. At the same time, Brooke Peter 
and the girls came through the front door.
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"Hi, everyone!" Maddie skipped into the family room, a lopsided grin plastered 
across her face. "Guess what? Hayley held her own cup today!"
Peter and Brooke came into view, pushing Hayley's wheelchair. "Hi, Dad." Brooke 
looked back at Elizabeth in the kitchen. "Hi, Mom. Another good day at our 
house."
"That's good." Elizabeth smiled from her place near the Crock- Pot. The 
transformation had taken place..Her sorrow was gone, and her eyes no longer 
brimmed with tears. Instead she glowed the way she always glowed when her family 
was around her.
"Maddie's right.'.' Brooke looked at the others in the room. "Hayley held a cup 
today. For the first time!"
Hayley was strapped to her wheelchair, but her eyes lit up when she saw the room 
full of people. She lifted her hand in a weak gesture and looked at John. 
"Papa..."
John felt a lump in his throat. All of this was new. Her quick recognition, her 
ability to say a few words, and now holding her own cup. All of it was proof 
that God would always have the last word when it came to life-and-death 
situations. After Hayley's accident, no one thought she would live. He himself 
had prayed that God would take her home so she wouldn't have to spend her life 
tied to a bed in a special facility somewhere.
But God and Hayley had surprised them all. First they'd realized she could see, 
even after they thought she was blind. And in the months that followed, she 
recognized the people she loved, learned to sit up and swallow food. Her tubes 
and wires were removed and she was able to go home.
Yes, the ordeal had been a strain on Peter and Brooke, but they'd all survived. 
Even though Hayley wasn't the same child she'd been before the accident, she was 
precious and full of love and improving a little more each month. She could even 
pull herself around on all fours in a semi-crawling motion.
John went to her, patting her head and kissing her golden hair. "Hi, Hayley. 
Papa's glad you came over." She made a slow laughing sound, and Brooke parked 
her chair
73 
i n g s b u r.y s m a lle y
along the edge of the family room. "Her doctor still doesn't know what to make 
of it." Brooke smiled and took Peter's hand. When he said nothing, she 
continued. "No, she's not improving as
quickly as before. That worries Peter."
He nodded. "It does."
"But she's still getting better. That's enough for me."
Peter managed a smile. "Me, too. Every day is a gift with Hayley."
"Daddy..." Hayley looked at him, and though her mouth hung open, the corners 
lifted in a smile.
"I love you too, baby." Peter stooped down and kissed Hayley's cheek. Then he 
looked at John and shrugged. "How can I be any-
grateful?"
"Coley... Coley... Coley..." Maddie jumped across the room like
a kangaroo and took Cole's hands. "Guess what, Coley. I learned 
a new clapping game at school. Wanna learn it, too?" "Hey, Maddie, you're a good 
jumper." Cole crossed his arms
studied his cousin. Then he began jumping in circles around her. "Let's see who 
can jump the bestest of all."
Jessie scampered across the room and did her best imitation of her
cousins. "I jump, too!"
..... Good, Jessie." Maddie held hands with her little cousin and together they 
jumped, all the while laughing at Cole, who was going in circles around them.
John breathed in the joy of it all. If only they could stay in this
forever and ever, never sit down to dinner and eat the stew
and come to the dreadful part at the end where they had to tell the kids the 
truth about Elizabeth. Sorrow welled within him,
threatening to overtake him, but he pushed it back.
The sadness would come later.
Ashley could hardly wait to tell them her news.
She'd known the truth for more than twenty-four hours, and
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the waiting had weighed on her every minute. Still, it made sense to wait and 
tell her family when they were all together. She and Landon had told Cole about 
the July wedding date, and that Mommy was very healthy. But they hadn't told 
anyone else. 
The dinner was wonderful as usual. Not just the food, but the news that their 
mother shared about Luke and Reagan, and Erin and Sam. "Luke has an internship 
at an entertainment-law office in Manhattan." Elizabeth set her fork down and 
smiled at the others. "He thinks he might focus on that aspect of law when he's 
finished with school." 
Ashley watched her mother and frowned. Something wasn't quite right about 
her--the enthusiasm in her voice, maybe, or a lack of expression in her eyes. 
She shifted her gaze to her father, but he was busy eating, keeping his eyes 
downcast. 
She felt her face relax. It was only her imagination. Her mother was probably 
tired after making the dinner. Or maybe she was caught up in the storytelling. 
Ashley focused on the de tails again. 
"Tommy's pulling himself up, trying to walk." Her mother took a sip of water. 
"And Reagan is taking an online course that'll go toward her degree." 
The three of them still lived with Reagan's mother in her Manhattan apartment. 
But the arrangement was working out fine. Reagan's mother had plenty of room, 
and it allowed Luke and Reagan to focus on their future and not on living 
month-to- month trying to make ends meet in New York City. 
"Erin and Sam are a little worried about the baby." Again Ashley thought her 
mother looked concerned, and now she understood why. Things weren't well with 
Erin. "The birth mother is grumbling about wanting more money. Erin promised me 
she'd call the social worker if the woman made any unusual demands." 
The conversation wore on, and finally when they were almost finished eating, 
Landon leaned around Cole and elbowed Ashley 
75 
i n g s b u r y s m a lie y
lightly in the ribs. He grinned at her, and her heart swelled. He was 
practically bursting with the news. "Tell them."
Kari was sitting next to Ashley. She gave them both a curious smile. "Tell us 
what?"
"The good news!" Cole waved his napkin in the air. "Mommy
Landon are getting married in July!"
Before anyone had time to react, Ashley held up her hand.
not the news, actually."
The room was quiet, the faces of her family members puzzled, expectant. Her 
father put his fork down. "Is it something your doctor
told you? Something about your treatment?"
"Yes." Ashley fought back a sudden wave of tears. "I'm not HIV 
positive. The new tests--" she hesitated, gathering her emotions. 
"The new tests show I'm negative. I don't have any- with me at all."
Tears appeared in her mother's eyes immediately. Elizabeth's
came to her lips and she stared, as shocked as the rest of "Are you.., are you 
sure, Ashley?" She nodded. "I'm sure."
"Oh, dear God," Her mom closed her eyes and brought her hands
together in prayer. "Thank you, Lord... thank you." Ashley blinked back the 
wetness in her own eyes. She looked at her father. 
His head was bent, and he rubbed his brow with his hands. 
Ashley could barely make out what he was saying. "A false positive. I can't 
believe it. I should've insisted you be seen
by a specialist sooner. I should've thought of a false positive." His eyes met 
hers, and the mix of joy and pain there was enough to move Ashley from her chair 
to the spot between her parents. 
"It's okay." Ashley no longer felt tears in her eyes. "It doesn't matter 
anymore."
"All this time." Brooke sat back in her chair, her eyes wide. "We should've 
taken you to the doctor ourselves."
Kari made a fist and placed it near her lips the way she might if she was 
covering her mouth before a cough. For a while she only
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looked at Ashley, her eyes saying everything her words could not. Finally she 
swallowed hard, stood, and circled to where Ashley stood. "I'm so glad, Ashley. 
So glad."
The two sisters hugged, and after a minute Brooke joined them. "No wonder you 
set a date."
Ryan was sitting next to Elizabeth. He reached up and took Ashley's hand. His 
eyes sparkled, and Ashley squeezed his fingers. They had always shared a special 
friendship, and once, a lifetime ago, they'd even considered becoming more than 
friends. But only for an afternoon. Ryan could never have loved anyone but Kari. 
He slipped his other arm around Jessie, but kept his eyes on Ashley. "A day 
hasn't gone by when I haven't prayed this would happen, Ashley." He released her 
hand and leaned back in his seat. "God is so good."
Cole was clinging to Landon. His expression told Ashley he was confused about 
the show of emotions, the strange things being said about HIV. He looked at 
Landon, his eyes big. "What's HIV, huh, Landon? What's negative?"
"HIV." He kissed Cole on top of his head. "And negative means Mommy's very 
healthy, honey. We don't have to worry about her getting sick."
Relief flooded Cole's face. Ashley, Kari, and Brooke returned to their seats, 
each of them continuing their words of congratulations and gratitude and 
agreeing that only God could've given Ashley this second chance at life.
"Does Luke know?" Her mother looked up from her place at the table, relief 
spilling from her eyes.
The mention of Luke's name brought another wave of emotion for Ashley. Her 
little brother, the one she'd been so close to growing up, the one she'd told 
first when she learned that she was HIV-positive. "No... not Luke or Erin. Let's 
call them later, okay?"
"So when's the big day?" Peter was. seated next to Hayley's wheelchair. He'd 
been feeding her throughout the conversation, and as such he'd been quieter than 
the others.
77 
kingsbury smalley
But Ashley had caught the emotion on his face. Just a few years earlier he and 
Brooke hadn't believed in God or the power of prayer or the fact that miracles 
still happened. But now... now faith shone in his eyes as surely as it shone in 
the eyes of everyone around the table.
"July nineteenth." Landon looked at Ryan and then at Peter. "We want to be 
married by Pastor Mark at the church and have a reception at the club down by 
the lake."
"I want a floor big enough for everyone to dance on." Ashley looked at her 
mother. "Even you and Dad, okay?" A flicker of something sad shot through her 
mother's eyes, but was gone before Ashley could analyze it. "Sounds like a 
beautiful wedding, dear."
"Yes." Her father put an arm around Mom. "We'll be the first on the dance floor, 
right after you and Landon." The conversation splintered as the group talked 
about yet another wedding- their third in as many years. But even before the 
conversation died down, Kari stood up and waited until she had everyones 
attention.
Ashley listened, enjoying the feel of Landon's arm on her the closeness of him 
and Cole, and the reality of the she'd just shared. She tried to focus on her 
older sister.
"Now it's my turn." Kari smiled at Ryan and Jessie, and then at others. "I have 
something I'd like to share also." She lifted one shoulder and looked straight 
at Ryan. "I figured what better time than now, when we're all together."
Ashley leaned forward, suddenly interested. The blank look in Ryan's face told 
her that whatever the news, he hadn't heard
Kari's smile became a grin as she looked around the room. "I a test today, and 
I'm pregnant." She made a soft squealing and looked at Ryan again. "We're going 
to have a baby!" color drained slowly from Ryan's face, and his mouth open. He 
rose slowly to his feet and put his hands on "Are you serious?"
78 
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"Yes." She gave a quick nod of her head. "I tried to tell you this afternoon."
Ryan winced. "But I kept putting you off."
"That's okay." She hugged him, and for a while the two of
them rocked, lost in each other's embrace.
"We're having a baby? We really are?"
Kari stroked the back of Ryan's head. "Yes. A Thanksgiving baby, if my dates are 
right."
"Kari, I can't believe it." He kissed her, and then just as quickly he pulled 
back. They both looked around the room. "Sorry. I forgot where I was for a 
minute."
Ashley laughed first, and then the others joined in. Jessie tugged on Ryan's 
sleeve. "What, Daddy, huh, what?"
Ryan swung her into his arms and bounced her a few times. "Mommy's going to have 
a baby, Jessie! Isn't that great?"
Jessie didn't look quite as happy as the others. She stared at Kari's flat 
stomach. "Is the baby in your tummy, Mommy?"
"Yep.". Kari tousled her daughter's hair. "The baby will stay there for a long 
time."
"Where is he, Mommy? He's not very big."
Giggles sounded from the group again, and Cole asked if he and Maddie could go 
upstairs to play. The children were excused, with Maddie and Cole promising to 
look after Jessie. Hayley, of course, stayed in her wheelchair next to Peter.
It was the time Ashley most enjoyed about a dinner at the Baxter house. The time 
when the meal was finished and they were past sharing details of their lives. 
The time when they often brought up memories of days gone by, of silly times and 
funny stories, a time when it felt wonderful to be part of a family like theirs.
The scene after a Baxter dinner was one Ashley had painted before, one that 
appeared on a canvas that hung in her own dining room, where it would always 
hang. The painting had come together in a way that surprised Ashley. In it, the 
faces and emotions and hearts of her family members all seemed perfectly cap
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kingsbury smalley
tured in an array of colors. In the background, a cross hung on the wall and 
from it emanated a light that cast warmth over the entire scene. The painting 
was a gift from God, one Ashley couldn't have duplicated if she'd wanted to.
Ashley loved that piece because it reminded her of all that was
important in life. Not too many years back, she would've considered dinner
like this one. But now.., now she knew the truth. No matter how far she had 
wandered, their
love for each other would never die. The painting exhibited
that very love, and Ashley wouldn't have sold it for a million dollars.
Usually their mother would put the kettle on for coffee and
conversation would drift in a dozen different directions. But this
time Ashley saw her mother and father leave the room together. Something was 
wrong; Ashley was sure of it. But she
couldn't imagine what. Not after the good news they'd already shared
tonight.
She joined her sisters and the men in clearing the table and
the dishes. The whole time, she seemed to be the only one who noticed that her 
parents were no longer in the room. Maybe she 
was wrong, after all. Maybe they had only stepped out- to revel in the wonderful 
turn of events that had presented
today.
maybe they were figuring out how to call Luke and Erin at the same time and 
share the news with them.
it couldn't be bad news.
of on a day when all of heaven seemed to have come to-
and smiled down on the Baxter family.
to Elizabeth in the next room while her tears came. can't tell them, not now."
They'd excused themselves at Elizabeth's prompting. They 
had been going in circles ever since. Elizabeth
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didn't want to ruin the evening, didn't want to cast a shadow
over the news that Ashley was well and Kari was pregnant. Especially a shadow as 
dark as cancer.
But John was adamant. "The surgery's tomorrow; we have to tell them."
"Let's tell them afterwards."
"We can't do that, Elizabeth; you know we can't." He wanted nothing more than to 
agree with her, to let the kids go home reveling in all the good news. But they 
would never accept the idea that their mother had undergone such major surgery 
without their even knowing about it. "It'll be okay."
"It won't." She sniffed and dragged the back of her hand beneath her eyes. "It's 
not fair."
"No--" John gritted his teeth--"it's not. But it would be worse to keep the 
truth from them."
For a long while neither of them said anything, and John knew he'd won. He was 
the leader of this family, and Elizabeth respected him as such. When her "crying 
subsided, he spoke in soft tones near the side of her face. "I'll tell them; all 
you have to do is go out there and stand beside me."
She squeezed her eyes shut, and after a few seconds she nodded. No matter how 
badly they wanted to avoid the next ten minutes, there was no way around it. 
"We've always shared the good and the bad, Elizabeth. The kids wouldn't want 
anything less."
"I know." She straightened herself and looped her arm through his. "Let's do 
it."
As soon as they entered the dining room, Ashley spotted them. When she saw 
Elizabeth's tearstained face, her expression changed, and she tapped her sisters 
until they, too, saw that something was wrong.
John cleared his throat. No matter how strong he looked, he was dying inside. 
Only the grace of God kept him from buckling to his knees. "Your mother and I 
have something to tell you." He
81 
kingsbury smalley
gave them a sad smile. "It's the real reason we asked you to come tonight."
One at a time, the adult kidsmade their way toward John and Elizabeth. He led 
them into the family room, grateful the grand-
children were upstairs playing. Peter wheeled Hayley into the room and 
positioned her near the chair Brooke had taken. When they were all seated, John 
led Elizabeth to the front of the room, they remained standing.
"Dad, what is it?" Ashley couldn't wait. Her face looked "Tell us." John 
tightened his hold on Elizabeth and felt her lean against
"Your mother found a lump in her breast a couple weeks . She... uh.,. she had 
some tests done and we found out the Friday." His voice broke. "I'm sorry." He 
sucked in a breath and looked at the faces around him. "The cancer's back. Your 
mother has to have surgery tomorrow morning."
Peter, Kari, Ryan, Ashley, Landon--the news worked its way across each face, 
until finally Brooke found her voice. "Are you having a mastectomy, Mom?" The 
words were calm, but the terror in her eyes was an expression of how they were 
all
ohn could feel their fear like a.physical assault.
Quiet tears were streaming down Elizabeth's face. She
ohn's hand, her signal that she couldn't talk, couldn't lift her eyes to look at 
them. Not yet.
John tried to think like a doctor, tried to remember his training and the way 
he'd been forced to give bad news
of patients over the years. "A double mastectomy. . Steinman is hopeful that 
he'll get it all if they operate
had expected a dozen questions, but the shock was simtoo great. They couldn't 
ask a single question that would
the facts. Their mother had cancer. Serious cancer. And
morning she would have a double mastectomy in a attempt to save her life.
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What could they say? 
Their father's announcement had said it all. 
One at a time they stood and found their way across the room. Some with tears, 
some with quiet whispers, they circled their arms around Elizabeth and John 
until they were one--one group of people who would stand together, stay by each 
other 
and see Elizabeth through, no matter what happened after to " morrow. 
They would survive whatever came because they were Baxters, and that's what 
Baxters did. They stuck together--believing, praying, supporting each other 
whether the news was glorious enough to sing about. 
Or the worst news of their entire lives. 
83 
CHAPTER EIGHT
Before everyone left, Elizabeth found the strength to make a three-way call to 
Erin and Sam, and Luke and Reagan. 3iness, Ashley and Kari shared first. The 
response was of course, positive, Luke especially finding reason to shout out 
loud when he heard that Ashley didn't have HIV.
Then John finished the call by telling them about Elizabeth's surgery. Elizabeth 
closed her eyes for that part, certain she could
hear Erin crying in the background. Sam had to finish for her, and both he and 
Luke promised to call the next day for a report.
Finally, when the kids and grandkids had gone home, Elizabeth got ready for bed 
and climbed in beside John. "You were
. He rolled onto his side, and with his fingers he brushed her hair
back from her eyes. "About telling them?"
"Yes." She sighed. "John, tell me this isn't the end." She looked
at him, searching for a glimmer of hope.
' "We've talked about this." He looked tired, the strength he'd
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shown earlier long gone. "We beg Jesus for a miracle and we believe it'll 
happen. Look what God's doing with Hayley." John's voice gathered some of his 
earlier strength. "We have to believe, Elizabeth. Otherwise we're doomed from 
the beginning."
She nodded and sank deeper into the sheets. "I keep thinking about him, 
wondering where he is now."
John leaned up on his elbow. "Thinking about who?"
"You know who." Her eyes found his and a knowing was there, a knowing even John 
couldn't deny. "Come on, John. Don't tell me you don't think about him."
He breathed out in a way that revealed a lifetime of regret. "I try not to. 
Until you brought him up the other day, it'd been years, Elizabeth. Four years, 
maybe."
Quiet settled around them. "I thought about him the night before Luke's 
wedding." She blinked, staring at the ceiling, seeing images from that winter 
night in New York City. "It was snowing outside, remember?"
"You stayed up and wrote a poem for Luke."
"I said something that triggered my thoughts. I said it was hard knowing my only 
son was getting married." Her voice grew pinched and she shook her head. "Only 
he isn't. He is my second son. Luke will always be my second son, even if you 
and I are the only two people in the world who know the truth."
John let his head fall back on the pillow, his eyes still on her. "We tried, 
remember? Back when you were sick the last time."
"Ys." Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and squinted, as if somehow she 
could see back to that time in their lives. "The answer was what we'd expected."
"The adoption was closed, sweetheart." His voice was tired
again. "It would take a miracle to find him, honey."
"He could find us."
"But why would he? It's been thirty-five years. He wouldn't know you were sick 
or thinking about him."
Elizabeth nodded and the conversation died. Before long, John kissed her on the 
cheek. This was the last time they'd kiss
85 
good night before her surgery. The last time they'd share a bed together while 
she was still whole, before she was cut apart, her breasts taken away forever.
"Kiss me again, John. Please." She moved onto her side and gazed
deep into his eyes. She knew that everything in her heart was already in his.
"Elizabeth... this isn't the last time; you can't tell yourself
She touched his face, the familiar shape of his cheekbones,
jawline. "But it is,John." Her voice was softer than the
moan of the wind outside. "In some ways it's the very last."
He didn't argue. Instead he took her face in his hands and
her. Not a kiss of anticipation or sudden desire, but a kiss that told her he 
wasn't being quite honest inwhat he said. A kiss
put a coda on a lifetime of physical love, a love that would changed forever 
when morning came.
When it was over, tears shone in both their eyes. John's forehead
fell against hers, his cheeks wet against her own. "God, .
God, we know what we're supposed to say."
She could feel him trembling beside her, hear the emotion in his voice. Her arm 
came around his waist and she held him, not sure
which of them needed the other more as John continued
"We're supposed to ask for you to make sure everything goes well tomorrow. We're 
supposed to be grateful and hopeful, but
honest, right now, God, we're confused and not sure Ftoxv
scared to death," Elizabeth whispered.
we're scared to death." John exhaled hard. "I wanted honest, and now I'll say 
the rest. God, give us a miracle. I )the doctors get into that operating room 
and find they clon't
I to operate at all, I pray the cancer is gone and Elizabeth. can
free of this awful disease. If not, I pray you heal her and that the cancer 
hasn't spread." He hesitated. "VZe're
86 
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begging you for a miracle, Lord. One more miracle for the Baxter family. 
Please."
John kissed her once more. This time their eyes were dry, and John breathed a 
good night against her cheek. "Believe, Elizabeth.
Don't stop believing."
"I won't."
He was asleep in ten minutes, the way he often fell asleep before she did. Even 
now, when he had more pain in his heart than ever before, he could sleep. It was 
his trademark.
But Elizabeth could only stare at the dark ceiling and let herself drift back 
back to that time when she and John first met. Back when they were forced to do 
something they never wanted to do.
She wasn't sure if she fell asleep and dreamed it, or if it only felt that way. 
However it happened, the years melted away until she was back in 1967, her 
freshman year at the University of Michigan. Yes, she'd been a home economics 
major, but when they'd told the story to their kids over the years, it always 
jumped from their meeting to their marriage. Only Elizabeth and John knew the 
truth. That a lot of living and hard lessons had taken place between those two 
events.
John was a med student, and the two of them met at a mixer the summer before her 
freshman year. The event was intended for all new or returning students.
The ironic thing was how it had all come together. John never should've been 
there; he was too old. But he'd been living with a family, and their oldest son 
was also a freshman that year. John had taken him as a favor to the guy's 
parents. It should've been a slow evening, a time of chaperoning and making sure 
the young man got home at a decent hour.
Instead, five minutes after John arrived, he spotted Elizabeth across the room.
She was talking with a group of freshmen girls. Elizabeth's family lived down 
the street from the university, so she wouldn't stay in a dorm like the other 
girls. Rather she would at
87 
think I should be able to talk to boys?"
boys you don't know." Her mother pinched her lips together. "What have we always 
taught you, Elizabeth? Boys only want one 
thing. Don't forget it." Her
family had attended a strict denominational church back then, a faction that 
didn't believe in loud music,
or dancing. Definitely not dancing. In fact, if her mom had known there'd be 
dancing at the party that night, she would 
never have allowed Elizabeth to attend.
the school had done a good job of advertising, careful as
back in those days to make the event sound tame, a mandatory function of having 
a successful freshman gathering. Her mom
knew the junior girl who was taking her. The girl's church with her own, and 
that, too, made Elizabeth's mother feel better about the event. Still, she 
worried. And Elizabeth with the final admonition: "Don't talk to boys."
Elizabeth had climbed into the junior girl's car, the night was going to be 
nothing like her mother pictured. The
girl, Betsy, wore a skirt that fell just above her knees, and on her lips was a 
cherry red color Elizabeth had never seen before.
to dance, Elizabeth?"
and gave a final glance over her shoulder house "Sure don't."
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"Well--" Betsy turned up the music and something with a loud beat filled the 
car--"you will after tonight."
And so it was that Elizabeth was standing with a few other freshman girls near 
the punch table when John walked up, smiled at her, and said, "Hi."
"Hi." She felt her cheeks grow hot and she looked around. He must have been 
talking to someone else, she figured. Someone older or prettier. But he stayed, 
and his eyes never left hers. "I'm Elizabeth."
"I'm John. John Baxter." He shrugged. "I'm too old to be here,
but I brought my little brother."
"Really?"
"Well, not exactly." John leaned against the wall and studied her. Later he 
would tell her that it was a classic case of love at first sight. He'd dated 
girls before, but no one had ever taken his breath away until he met Elizabeth.
He explained his situation. He had no parents--his father died in the war, and 
his mother, a few years later of a broken heart. "I live with these friends of 
my mother's, a family we've known for a long time." He gestured across the room 
at a gangly young man helping himself to a plate of food. "That's Bill. He's the 
oldest son of the people I live with. I told 'em I'd show Bill around and make 
sure he got home safely."
"I see." Elizabeth felt suddenly shy. "What year are you?"
"I graduated last year. I'm about to be a second-year med student." He smiled. 
"Other than coming here tonight, I haven't been anywhere but the library, 
school, and home again for the past year."
"So how old does that make you?"
John grinned at her, searching her eyes. "Twenty-three. Why?" "Just wondering." 
Elizabeth felt a sudden sense of daring. She wasn't supposed to talk to boys, 
and here she was chatting with a young man five years her senior. What would her 
mother think of that?
"And you?"
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kingsbury smalley
"Eighteen. I'll be a freshman."
John poured two cups of punch and handed one .to her.
"You'll love it. They take good care of freshmen at U of M." "I hope so." "You 
dormin' it?"
"No." Her mother's warning-sounded in her mind again. "I live at home. My 
parents' house is a few blocks from the university."
"Good." He nodded and a silence fell between them. Then,
warning, he set his punch down and took her hand. Come on, Elizabeth. Dance with 
me."
She still had her cup in her hand, and a shot of terror coursed
her body. The dance floor was full of couples, all of enjoying the music. But 
she couldn't, could she? Her mother
would have a fit if she found out, make her go before the church
and confess her sins one at a time.
But then, her mother wasn't here.
A smile came across her face and she lifted her cup to her lips. In a single 
swallow, she finished the contents and tossed the cup . a nearby trash can. 
"Okay, but I have to warn you." "What?" John's eyes sparkled as they met hers. 
"What warning
could a girl as pretty as you possibly have for an old guy like me?
She shrugged
her shoulders a few times and gave him a half smile. "I can't dance."
You can't?" He seemed genuinely surprised. Then he and pulled her out onto the 
dance floor. "I guess I'll to teach you."
spent the rest of the night doing just that. When the mixer was over, Elizabeth 
knew how to do a modified version of the and the jitterbug, and she could swing 
dance in her
Her legs ached from all the dancing, and before they said ohn asked for her 
number.
mother's warning came back again: "Don't talk to boys, Whatever you do, don't 
talk to boys." .
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"Well... uh..." She felt her face getting hot again. "How 'bout if you give me 
your number." She stared at her sore feet, afraid to meet .his eyes. "My mother 
doesn't like me getting calls from boys."
"She'd rather have you calling them?" His tone was light, and they both laughed. 
But he did as she asked, finding a piece of paper and writing his number on it. 
"The scl{ool has events every weekend from now till fall; you know that, right?"
Elizabeth had heard something about it, but she had no plans to go. "I'm not 
sure."
John explained that the university administrators wanted students to get 
involved with each other and the school activities. "There's a trip to Lake 
Michigan next weekend, with a bonfire on the beach. Then the weekend after that 
they've put together a bowling trip and movie night." He took her hands and 
looked straight to a part of her heart no one had ever Seen before. "I'll go to 
every event if you'll be there."
The idea sounded like it might work. She took his number and bid him good-bye. 
On the way home she asked Betsy about the social events set up for the rest of 
the summer. "Yeah, they're a blast. I'll probably go to all of them."
"Could you call and invite me? And make sure my mom knows the invitation is 
coming from you."
Betsy raised her eyebrow. "I saw you talking with that tall, dark, and handsome 
med student. Every girl in the room had her eye on him."
"They did?" "
"Yes, but you wouldn't know--" Betsy gave Elizabeth a friendly poke--"because 
the two of you never took your eyes off each other."
By the time Betsy dropped her at home, the plan was in stone. Betsy called later 
that week and talked to her mother. Yes, the events were chaperoned; yes, she'd 
keep an eye on Elizabeth. No, she didn't think Elizabeth had talked to any boys 
at the
91 
kin g s b u r y s m a lie y
mixer. Yes, she'd be sure to keep an eye on her at future events also.
"You understand, right?" Elizabeth heard her mother tell
on the phone. "Elizabeth's a good girl, but she's Very
. I'm not sure she knows how pretty she is, but the boys The last thing her 
father and I want is for Elizabeth to get
up with a boy. She needs to finish college first." Elizabeth was mortified that 
her mother would speak that way
her to an older girl like Betsy. But in the end the ,plan
beautifully. The next weekend students met at the west of the university parking 
lot and caravanned to the beach.
z to the meeting place. But she took the drive to the shore sitting beside John 
Baxter.
"This is the craziest thing I've ever done," she told him that The window was 
down and a warm breeze played in her "I can't believe I'm riding in a car with 
you to Lake Michigan. My mother would die."
told her later that he felt bad sneaking around the way
did those early weeks. But he was so taken by her that he'd i.his ability to 
think straight. That evening, after a day of play-
the surf and lying in the sun, she and John took a walk the beach instead of 
attending the bonfire.
the group was far enough in the distance, he stopped
her. "Elizabeth, do you feel something?" His voice smooth, gentle as the breeze 
off the lake.
heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it. what?"
ohn took her hand and placed it on his heart.
her fingertips she felt a strong thudding, almost as if just finished a race or 
run up three flights of stairs.
ohn? What is it?"
her hand but kept his fingers intertwined with
you. It's how I feel when I'm with you: Like all the could go away and I'd be 
the happiest man alive. Just
here looking at you for the rest of my life."
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REUNION 
"I... I don't know what to say." 
"Feel yours." He nodded to her. "Go on, Elizabeth; feel it." And she did. She 
reached up and placed her hand over her own heart. And sure enough, the hard, 
fast beating she'd felt when she touched his was the same in her heart now. 
Elizabeth studied John, the moonlight casting shadows on their faces. "What does 
it mean?" 
Without saying another word, he closed the distance between them, took her 
gently in his arms, and careful not to press his body against hers, he kissed 
her. 
She knew two things after that. First, she understood why her heart was beating 
so fast. It was because in less than a week she'd fallen in love with John 
Baxter. And second, she knew why her mother had warned her not to talk to boys. 
Because after kissing John, she didn't care about college or getting home on 
time or anything else her mother had ever told her. 
All she wanted was to stand there forever, kissing John and getting lost in his 
eyes. 
93 
Her dream was only half over.
Elizabeth willed it to continue, willed herself to remember
part of their past--the height of their love for each other the depth of their 
despair when their choices changed everything
for both of them.
Her clandestine dates with John had continued Always she
drive off with Betsy and get five minutes of lecture from her. 
"You're falling too hard for him, Elizabeth. He's too old for you. You need to 
spread yourself around a little, make some friends. 
Elizabeth barely listened. After John
arrived at each event's meeting place, she was with him every minute until it 
was time to go home. She was falling in love with John, experiencing feelings 
she'd never known existed. But she could share none of it with her mother
because they knew nothing of what was happening. the end of August, she found 
other ways to meet up with John. She'd claim to be going to the university to 
find her way around. 
"Mom, you know how hard it'll be to get to not familiar with the layout of 
campus."
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Her mother had a perpetual worried look back then. She frowned. "Maybe I could 
take you ar0un& help you find your way."
"No, MomY Elizabeth tried to keep her tone light. "I'll ride my bike and explore 
on my own. That way I won't need your help on the first day of school." She 
patted her mother's hand. "I am in college, now, Mama."
Her mother agreed, even if it was reluctantly.
But Elizabeth never had any intention of making her way around campus. Instead 
she'd ride her bike to the corner store, where John would be waiting. They'd 
lock up her bike and take off in his car for some destination just off campus. 
They'd stroll arm in arm through the streets, visiting eclectic shops and 
sharing kisses in the parking lot before and after every outing.
"What are we going to do when school starts?" John was breathless after kissing 
her one afternoon. "I need to see you, Elizabeth."
Her feelings for him frightened her. "We have school, John. I guess we'll have 
to find time afterwards." And then she had an idea. "I could say I have to study 
at the library, and we could meet that way."
They agreed. One day they met at the store and drove to Allmendinger Park a few 
blocks off campus. They walked through a grove of stately oaks, holding hands, 
until they were hidden from the traffic on the nearby street.
John had seemed restless, more anxious than usual When they stopped against a 
thick tree, he pulled her close and kissed her. As always he was careful to keep 
space between them. "Guess what?"
"What?" She didn't want to talk. She wanted to kiss him. Now, before they headed 
off for the afternoon and wouldn't have another chance like this one.
"The people I live with are gone this week. They went to Mackinac Island; they 
won't be back until Saturday."
"John?" Fear grabbed hold of her and shook her hard. She
95 
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looked at him, but there was something in his eyes she couldn't
read. "What are you saying?"
"Nothing!" He chuckled and rubbed his palms on his jeans. "Don't
get the wrong idea, Elizabeth. I was only thinking we could
go there and watch a little TV, maybe play some cards. a little time alone 
before you had to go home."
In the years since then, whenever they talked about that sum-
mer, Elizabeth and John both knew they should've seen it coming. Two young 
people in love? Sneaking around behind hermother's back,
and thinking that somehow they could spend the day 
in a house by themselves? without anything happening?
The plan was doomed from the start.
Still, on the first day nothing happened. They held hands and watched
television, and John talked to her about his plans of being a
doctor. All he'd ever wanted was to help people get well, maybe discover some 
great new way of making people feel better. 
7.
Elizabeth shared her dreams also. She wanted to go to college it only so she 
could please her parents. Her real dream was to have a 
family. "A whole houseful of kids." She smiled at him. guess that's why I picked 
home economics as my major. At
degree will make me a good wife and mother."
John admitted later that when she shared her heart with him that day, he knew 
there was no turning back. No matter what happened, he would marry Elizabeth, 
and whether her mother liked him or not didn't matter.
The second day alone in the house was worse than the first. They watched TV 
again, but they ran out of things to talk about. because they had nothing to say 
to each other but because didn't want to talk. They wanted to kiss.
It was just before noon when they started kissing on the livingroom
sofa, and sometime after one before they looked at the clock. 
They'd gone farther than they'd wanted to, farther
96 
REUNION
than Elizabeth had dreamed of going. But they hadn't given in to their feelings 
entirely.
Elizabeth went home that night and stared at the mirror. She was so mad at 
herself she spat at her reflection. No wonder her mother had warned her about 
boys. Not because of what a boy would do if she ever got close to one. But 
because of what she herself was capable of.
She swore when she went to bed that she was finished lying to her parents, 
finished sneaking off to share an afternoon alone with John in an empty house. 
She even prayed about it, begging God to forgive her for the awful person she'd 
become and asking him to give her strength.
In later years Elizabeth had used the lessons she learned that week as a 
teaching tool for her own children. "God doesn't want you to be stronger than 
temptation," she'd told each of her five kids at one time or another. "He wants 
you to be smarter than it." She'd show them the verse in Scripture that advised 
people to flee temptation, not stick around and try to bargain with it.
But that summer Elizabeth had figured she could bargain just a bit longer. The 
next day she couldn't stop herself. She was rattling off another lie, getting on 
her bike, and riding off to meet John before she remembered even a single 
promise she'd made to herself the night before.
This time, John didn't turn on the television. He took her to his bedroom and 
showed her a stack of letters his father had written to his mother while he was 
fighting in World War II.
"He was a true hero, John," Elizabeth said after she'd read most of them. "His 
love for your mother was amazing."
"Yes." John stacked the letters back ,in a box and closed the lid. "That's the 
way I want to love my wife someday, with all my heart and mind and soul."
Elizabeth was suddenly nervous, sitting there on the edge of John's bed. She 
recalled the way she'd felt the day before, the contempt she had for herself 
after the compromises she'd made with John. "Let's go back to the TV room."
97 
i'k i n g s b u r y s m a I I y
John agreed easily, and she relaxed some. He wasn't trying to seduce her, wasn't 
trying to put her in an uncomfortable situation. He just
wanted to share something about his past with her.
They returned to the TV room, but nothing was on. For a while
they played cards, but then he took her hand and told her how much he'd miss her 
once school started. "I'll be busy. Second
year med school is tough. I'll be lucky if I can meet you at the library once a 
week."
"At least we'll have that time."
Elizabeth knew what was happening, their words fell and they started kissing 
again. Only this time, they
couldn't bring themselves to find a voice of reason the shouts of temptation.
Elizabeth remembered the ways she convinced her-
afternoon. I'm going to marry him one day, anyway...
the difference if we have this time together?... We'll be apart
enough, right? Besides... we'll stop before it's too late; I know will.
of it, every word, was a lie.
could no sooner stop themselves from giving in com- that afternoon than they 
could stop breathing. They had
they could outwit temptation, but they were wrong. evening when she got home, 
she was sure the truth was all over her face. She wasn't a virgin anymore, and 
she
imagine ever showing her face to John Baxter again.
next day she didn't meet him, couldn't let him see her the she had become: cheap 
and easy and completely without
up at the store,John came to her house.
on the door and when her father answered, he in- himself as a friend of 
Elizabeth's.
the conversation as she sat, terrified, at the end of Whatever John was doing, 
things would never be the
with her parents. The strangest part of all was that
98 
REUNION 
Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to run for her life or dart into the next room and 
throw her arms around John's neck. 
John explained to her parents that he had met Elizabeth at a school function and 
fallen in love with her. Then he said the thing that stopped Elizabeth's heart 
in its place. "I'd like to ask your permission to marry her." 
Her mother was the first person to speak. "My daughter has said nothing about 
you, Mr. Baxter. I'm sure this is all some kind of mistake. She's been told not 
to talk to boys, and especially not 
young men like you--" 
"Wait a minute." 
Elizabeth cringed. The voice belonged to her father, a man who made her 
motherlook lenient. 
Her father's voice filled the room. "Have you put my daughter in a compromising 
position?" 
A compromising position? Elizabeth buried her head in her hands. Don't say it, 
John... don't say it... don't tell them. 
He didn't. Instead he only insisted that he'd fallen in love with her and he 
wanted to marry her. In the end, her father threw him out of the house before 
Elizabeth could say hello or even see him. 
That night her father told her she was never to spend time with John Baxter 
again. "You're a college girl, Elizabeth. You need to focus on your studies." 
The next day Elizabeth left the house on her bike without ask ing. She planned 
to call John as soon as she got to the store, but she didn't have to. He was 
already there waiting for her. She fell into his arms, climbed into his car, and 
went with him back to the house where he lived. This time they both knew what 
they were doing, and they did it anyway. 
John had told her several times in the decades since then that his actions were 
completely wrong, beyond reason. But without her parents' permission, he could 
hardly, marry her. And with out marriage, he had no idea how they'd ever love 
each other the way they were desperate to love each other. 
99 
kingsbury smalley
Back then John hadn't been a believer. His father had talked about having a 
strong faith, a belief in Jesus Christ, but not his mother. Until the day she 
died, she blamed God for taking her
husband, for leaving her son without a father.
John fell somewhere in the middle.
The faith of his father had intrigued him, but he couldn't remember ever 
attending a church service or reading a Bible. All of that changed the day early 
that semester when Elizabeth called with 
the news.
She was pregnant and terrified.
"Where are you?" John's voice shook with fear. "I'll come get you. 
Elizabeth. We'll run off and get married on our own." "No! We can't do that, 
John. My parents would disown me.
how would we live?"
"I could... I could quit school and get a job at the market. I
work two jobs, three jobs, if I had to."
"No,John." The tears had come then. "Listen to yourself! You want 
to be a doctor. That's your dream. I know we'll be together
you know it, too. But we need my parents' help. They'll let us get married and 
let you move in here with me. You can go to 
med school, and I'll stay in class until the baby comes. They'll 
have to understand."
no. You can't tell them."
Elizabeth struggled to find the words. Ever since getting the test at the campus 
clinic, she'd walked around in a fog. She felt dead as she said, 
"That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'll tell them I'm pregnant
and that we want to get. married: Then I'll call you and tell you what they 
said."
Elizabeth felt certain her parents had. wanted to kill her that 
afternoon. They were horrified, disgusted, and embarrassed they said as much. 
"What will my church friends think young 
lady?" Her mother kept her distance, as if maybe promiscuity; even her 
pregnancy, might be contagious. Mom
this
isn't about you. I fell in love, and I want to marry
100 
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John. He wants to marry me; he told you that when he came by that day."
Her father stood, then, and made a pronouncement. There would be no wedding, no 
son-in-law moving in with them to flaunt the fact that he'd gotten their virgin 
daughter pregnant.
"You will go away to a girls home in Indiana. I heard about it through a friend 
at work." Her father glared at her. "You will have the baby, then return to Ann 
Arbor and get on With your classes. At that point, all of us will carry on as if 
none of this foolery ever happened in the first place."
"Foolery?" Elizabeth shrieked at her father. "I love John Baxter, Daddy. I want 
to marry him, and I want to have his baby."
"Stop it!" Her father had never raised a hand to her, but in that moment he did; 
He stopped short of slapping her, but his face was red, and his voice shook with 
rage. "You'll go away, have the .. the child." He spat the word child, as if it 
tasted poisonous on his tongue. "You'll give the baby up for adoption, come 
home, and forget the entire incident ever happened."
"It's my baby, Daddy. I don't want to give it up!"
"Then the two of you will be homeless together. I will not have you raising that 
man's child in this house."
By the end of the evening, Elizabeth had agreed to her father's plan. Not 
because she wanted to but because she had no strength left to fight him, and no 
option that seemed workable on its own.
That night she called John and told him their relationship was over. She had no 
choice but to do what her parents wanted, nowhere else to turn. John tried to 
discourage her, but he had no viable options either.
In the end, they both agreed the solution was a terrible one. But it was also 
their only one. She left the following week and spent nine months at the girls 
home. Though it was the worst season in her life, something wonderful came of 
it. She found a relationship with Jesus.
Prior to her time in Indiana, Elizabeth had only borrowed her
101 
kingsbury sma[ley
beliefs from her parents. Theirs was a stuffy, legalistic faith and never one 
that Elizabeth owned deep in her heart. But those lonely months, missing John 
and knowing she'd made the wrong choice by leaving, she had no one but God to 
turn to. ,
She wasn't allowed phone calls out, and John wasn't allowed to call her. But he 
wrote, and once in a while one of the women who ran the place would sneak one of 
his letters to her instead of ripping it up, as her parents had instructed them 
to do with any Di.letters from John Baxter.
In his letters,John expressed a similar revelation. "I've discovered peace I 
never knew before," he told her. "Whatever we do when this is over, Elizabeth, 
we must always put God first. We were wrong 
for being together the way we were, but I was wrong of all. Jesus wants me to 
know him before I can love you way you deserve to be loved."
i! Eli.zabeth bore a healthy baby boy. He had blond hair and his
muscular frame. Elizabeth was allowed to hold him for
one hour before he was taken away. She wanted desperately
for John to let him hear his son's soft cries, to describe for the way he looked 
with his beautiful skin and clear blue eyes. 
she wasn't allowed, so she memorized his face, his features, his newborn cry. 
Memorized all of it so she could tell John about him when they saw each other 
again. Then she prayed for the baby, begging God to give him a loving home with 
love. If it be your will, Lord, let me meet him one day. God..."
they took him from her arms, Elizabeth wept for the day. The ache of losing him 
was so strong she thought she might die from the pain. Two months later, when 
she was at least physically recovered--she was sent home. Her parents tried to 
seem happy about her return, but want anything else from them.
ged in the time she'd been gone, grown closer to parents. Somewhere out in the 
world
102 was a little boy who belonged to her and John, a child she would never get 
to raise or hold or love. A child who would never know her. And all because her 
parents hadn't wanted their church friends to see their daughter pregnant.
The entire situation was a tragedy, and Elizabeth didn't wait one hour after 
returning home before calling John. They met at the library and found a quiet 
alcove where they could be alone, away from the curious glances of other 
students. Elizabeth had disappeared, after all. And now it was late July and 
she'd showed up again. Anyone who knew them could do the math and figure out 
what had happened.
Alone in the library that day, John held her and wiped away her tears and 
listened as she told him about the baby. John still had a lot of schooling to 
finish, but he'd gotten permission from the family he lived with so he could 
marry Elizabeth and have
her live with him there, at least until he finished school.
And that's exactly what they did.
In a ceremony attended by very few people, and avoided by her parents, John and 
Elizabeth were married on August 22, 1968, a little over a year after they'd 
met, On their first night as husband and wife, they prayed that God would always 
be at the center of their marriage. And they asked him to help them never again 
think of the blond, blue-eyed boy they'd given up.
For most of the next four years they kept to their bargain. Then in 1972 after 
they'd found a small place of their own near the university--they had Brooke. In 
the hospital after delivering her, Elizabeth said just one thing, one thing that 
told both of them she never forgot the baby she gave away. "I'm glad it's a 
girl."
"Me too."
"Because a boy would remind me of everything I gave up." Sometime after Brooke 
was born, Elizabeth's parents found them, They apologized for what they'd done, 
and the two families made peace. But Elizabeth knew they would never understand 
the price she'd paid for their lack of compassion.
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king,bury malley
The years passed, and girl after girl after girl came into the Baxter family. 
Elizabeth figured God wasn't going to give them a boy. He'd already done that, 
and she'd given him up. In the re-
cesses of her heart, in a place she never shared with anyone, not
even John, she wondered if maybe God was withholding a boy
from them as his way of punishing her, reminding her that what she'd done was 
wrong.
But in 1980 she delivered Luke, their fifth and final child. A boy 
who looked exactly like the child she'd given birth to while
at the girls home in Indiana. In the hospital Elizabeth held him out for John to 
see. "Now you know, John." He gave her a blank look. "Now I know what?"
"Now you know what we gave away. The baby I had all those years 
ago looked exactly like this one."
From the beginning, they felt Luke was a special blessing from 
God. Not that each of the girls wasn't special. They were. Luke seemed to fill 
the aching places in both their hearts, the
that still longed for the son they'd given up, the places that still wondered 
where he was and how he was doing.
They settled in Bloomington when John took a job at the hospital
there. Only once did they ask themselves if they'd
taken a job in Indiana hoping that somehow they'd find 
son they gave up. It was strange, really. Of all the places they could live in 
the United States, only Indiana felt like home, so there had to be something to 
their thoughts.
Luke's birth, they had an easier time keeping their
and only rarely did the subject of their firstborn son come up. They agreed that 
their children didn't need to know the past--how rough a start their parents had 
as a couple,
had a brother out there somewhere who knew nothing of them. Not telling them had 
been a good choice--one Elizabeth and
wavered from, The adoption had been closed. None of the 
children would have the right or the ability to find their brother. Better to 
believe he hadn't existed at all, to con
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vince themselves never to look back at that time in their lives. Nice to imagine 
that God had placed him in exactly the home he was supposed to be placed, to 
believe that-he hadn't ever been theirs but the other couple's. 
Still, there were times when Elizabeth was eighteen again, when she could feel 
that baby boy in her arms, see his expres sion, his eyes, and know that the 
longing in her heart would never go away completely. Times when she could feel 
that woman taking her baby from her arms, sense the immediate sep aration, see 
her turn her back and walk out of the room, and- 
"Stop!" Elizabeth sat straight up in bed, her heart racing, chest heaving. 
"Bring him back here! He's mine, bring him back right now!" 
John was awake instantly. He sat up and put his arm around her shoulders. 
"Honey... shhh. You're dreaming." 
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the door. "Get him, John, before 
it's too late." 
John took hold ofher arm and gave her a soft shake. "Eliza beth, wake up. You're 
dreaming, honey." 
She blinked and slowly she felt herself ease back against the headboard. John 
was right. It had all been only a dream, a walk through time that led her back 
to the place where it all hap pened, to the moment when they took her baby from 
her. 
And even now hours before a cancer surgery that could sig nal her season of 
death it felt like no time at all had passed. He was out there somewhere, wasn't 
he? The baby she'd given up. Closed adoption or not, there had to be a way to 
find him. Or a way for him to find her. 
Elizabeth remembered all the work they'd done in the early nineties, back when 
she'd fought cancer the first time. They'd tracked down every loose thread, 
every connection, every per son who might've known something about the adoption. 
Every door had led to a dead end, and they promised each other they'd never 
waste their time on such futility again. 
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ngsbury smalley
"If we ever find him, it'll be because he finds us," John had said.
He was right back then, and he was still right now.
John was lying down again, already asleep. When she eased herself beneath the 
covers, a thought hit her. There was something she could do after all. She could 
pray. The same God who knew her and loved her and had a plan for her that went 
beyond
the double mastectomy scheduled for the morning also knew
and loved her firstborn son.
It was too late for building a mother-son relationship with the boy. He was 
thirty-five years old now. But it wasn't too late to make peace with him, to 
tell him how sorry she'd been to give him up, to see for herself that God had, 
indeed, taken care of
God alone knew where her boy was at that exact moment. Suddenly, with an 
excitement that defied the situation, Elizabeth prayed
a prayer she'd uttered thirty-five years ago: If it be
our will, Lord, let me meet him again someday. Please, God... She thought about 
the surgery she faced in a few hours. And please, God, let it happen soon.
106 
107 
They had thirty minutes until the surgery--thirty for John to ease his wife's 
fears, thirty minutes until life for them would change for a long, long while. 
Maybe forever.
Elizabeth had been prepped, and now she was lying on a bed,
waiting for the moment when someone from the surgical team would come for her. 
So far, she hadn't wanted to talk
the surgery.
see the look in Ashley's eyes last night?" Elizabeth's
hands were folded across her waist, her voice pleasant, as if they weren't in a 
fluorescent-lit hospital room waiting for her double
mastectomy but rather enjoying a lazy Monday morning
conversation.
i',John tried to focus. "She's loved Landon for a long time. "
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The clock on the wall showed a steady march of time. Twenty- five minutes left. 
Just twenty-five. John squinted at her, trying to remember what she had said. 
The wedding, right? Yes, Ashley and Landon's wedding. He placed his hand on her 
arml "The wedding will be beautiful."
"They're going to be happy. Don't you think, John?"
"Of course." John's heart beat harder than before. This wasn't the conversation 
he wanted to have with his wife, not now. Didn't she know how difficult the 
surgery would be? Hadn't she been listening when the doctor told her that, 
combined with her
treatment, it could be months before she felt good again? "Landon's right for 
her. Don't you think?."
"Yes, dear." John ran his fingers along her brow and gave her shoulder a gentle 
squeeze. The clock kept ticking. Twenty minutes until surgery. John gritted his 
teeth. There was still so much more he wanted to say. "Landon's perfect for her; 
he always has been."
"And Kari..." Elizabeth's eyes grew distant, her smile soft and warm. "I hope 
they have a boy. I think Ryan would do so well with a boy. Not that he isn't 
wonderful with little Jessie, because he is; in fact did you see him yesterday? 
Right after dinner Jessie--"
"Elizabeth." John stopped himself. He hated the frustration in his tone, hated 
the fact that he couldn't let her talk about the kids if she wanted to. But the 
minutes were disappearing and he still had so much to say. His eyes found hers, 
and he looked past the surface details, deep to where she was scared to death 
about whatever the next four hours held. His tone grew softer, kinder, and he 
gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't want to talk about the kids. The kids 
are fine; they're all fine."
Elizabeth hesitated for a minute and her eyes grew damp. Then she turned and 
faced the window. "We haven't talked about the reunion,John. I was looking 
online the other day, and I think Sanibel is a good choice. Maybe a few weeks 
before Ashley's wedding. We can fly into Fort Myers.and take a shuttle
109 
to the island. I've always wanted an island vacation, John; you know that, 
right?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasstill looking the other direction, and 
she didn't let him answer.
"Condominiums are reasonable along the shore, and the surf is gentle enough for 
the little ones." She barely paused to take a breath. "There's a dolphin cruise 
that leaves from the South Seas Captiva Island, about a half hour from San/be/, 
so that be something everyone could--"
"Stop." This time John stood and waited until she looked at again. "If you want 
a reunion, we'll have one. Fine. But Elizabeth--" he took her hand in his and 
willed his eyes stay drym"please can we talk about it later?"
"Fine, John." Her tone was sharp, the way it never was with "What do you want to 
talk about? The surgery? Would you to talk about the process of a double 
mastectomy and how I don't have my breasts anymore? Maybe I should that every 
smell, every sound in this place reminds me of birth, of coming here because 
life was new. Not because it ending."
her eyes and forehead relaxed, and the anger "I'm sorry, John, but really, what 
point is there in I don't want to talk about how I'll look or feel after the 
surgery- I want to talk about last night's dinner and the kids and our reunion, 
because God alone knows whether I'll feel upto talking 
about it come tomorrow. I want this last hour to be okay? Just me and you the 
way we've always been." it's not normal." His eyes stung. "I want to know how 
and I want to tell you how wonderful you are, That you're the only woman I've 
ever loved and that our children are the adults they've become because of your 
unfaith and commitment. I want to hold your hand and your fears and have you 
believe that whatever you go after today, I'll be by your side."
. ." Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes and
110 
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trickled down the sides of her face. "You were the first boy I ever talked to, 
and nothing could've kept me from you. Nothing. I've loved you with all my 
heart, all my being, for thirty-five years, the same way you've loved me." A sad 
smile played on her lips, and her eyes stayed connected with his. "Don't you 
think I know how much you love me? Or that you think the world of me? I don't 
need--" she gestured at the hospital bed and machinery around her"I don't need a 
last-minute hospital scene to know what I've known all these years. Do you 
understand that?"
He bit his lip, holding the tears at bay. "Are you afraid?" "Yes." The word was 
a tortured whisper. Her eyes searched his and for the first time today he saw a 
hint of the terror she was hiding. "Of course I'm afraid." She dabbed at her 
tears and looked at the ceiling. "I'm afraid I won't have the energy to take 
walks down by the stream with Cole or to play Barbies with Maddie. I'm afraid 
I'll spend my days throwing up and watching my hair fall out and that when 
nighttime comes, I'll be too tired and sick to make love to you." She covered 
her mouth with her fingers for a moment, struggling for control. "Yes, I'm 
afraid. Is that what you want to talk about?"
"Yes. Because it's real." John felt worse than before, but at least they were 
being honest. That had to be better than surface talk about the kids or some 
far-off summer reunion.
"Why?" She pointed at the clock, her tone frustrated again. "I have ten minutes 
until they come and get me. Why should we spend it borrowing pain from 
tomorrow?"
"Because." He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed each of
them, one at a time.
"Because why?"
"Because . . ." He drew back and studied her, the way she looked whole and alive 
and beautiful. "Because I'm scared, too. I want you to know. No matter how 
strong I act or seem or come across, I'm terrified of this, Elizabeth." He 
stared at her hands and slowly brought his eyes up past the curve of her chest 
to her eyes again. "I can't lose you."
111 
off the :
".them no ,
i.we re fimshed.
i!i!Call my pager; I'll be in my office."
k i n g s b r y , s m a I l e y
As soon as his words were out, her expression softened. "John
. my love." She reached up, framing his face with her hands, barely touching 
him. "Why didn't you say so?"
He gave her a lopsided grin. "I tried, but you know how it is, Elizabeth. I 
couldn't get a word in edgewise."
"John, I'm sorry." She held out her hands. "Come lie with me? Please."
With practiced ease he released the latch on her bed raft. When it was down, he 
stretched himself out next to her on the gurney and held her close. "Fight this 
thing, okay? I need you;
all need you."
"I will."
They held on to each other, saying nothing this time, nothing
their fears or the fact that this was the last time they'd be together
before she began the fight for her life. Nothing about all had to lose and all 
they'd enjoyed together up until this
They simply held on, as if minutes and doctors and surgeries
be put at bay if only they never let go. But the minutes
one at a time, and John heard the door open. He
didn't acknowledge that anyone had.entered
room.
He tightened his hold on Elizabeth. "Come back to me,
"Okay."
"I'll be here." He pressed his fingers to her heart. "No matter
)ens, I'm with you."
She pressed her face against his. "Pray, John."
"I will. As long as it takes, I'll be praying."
with every bit of his remaining strength, John slid him-
gurney, nodded to the members of the surgical team,
ed aside. The two men took hold of the gurney and one nodded at John. "Dr. 
Baxter, we'll let you know as soon
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The last thing John saw before they wheeled Elizabeth from the room was her 
eyes, deep and beautiful and frightened and accented with a glimmer of peace, a 
knowing that somehow,
regardless of the outcome, God was in control. The way God had always been in 
control of their lives no matter what they faced.
And that glimmer of peace gave John the slightest sense of hope as he watched 
them take her around the corner toward the operating room. At Elizabeth's 
request, the kids were all waiting by their phones--not crowding the waiting 
room the way they wanted to. She told them not to worry; the surgery was 
routine. She'd talk to them afterwards. But the truth was something she'd told 
John the .night before; she wanted to spend her waking hours today with him 
alone.
John walked, dazed, toward his office. It was a small, boxy room where he worked 
one day a week, overseeing hospital care and outlining release plans for his 
many patients.
The staff knew why he was here today, so only a few people did more than nod at 
him. Most looked the other way, giving him the space he needed to deal with the 
matter at hand. He entered his office, closed the door behind him, and did the 
only thing he knew to do.
He dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and let the sorrow come. Then he lifted 
Elizabeth to the God who had created her, the God who loved her and wanted his 
best for her. The God who was somewhere in this room, weeping right along with 
him.
As they wheeled her into the operating room, Elizabeth folded her arms over her 
chest and cupped her hands along the sides of her breasts. It was still 
impossible to believe that in a few hours she'd wake up in a recovery room and 
they'd be gone. But sometime during the night, in the midst of her dreaming and 
remem
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kingsbury smalley
bering and praying about her firstborn, she'd .found a peace about the surgery.
So she'd lose her breasts.
If she had to trade them for a life with John and her children, she would do it 
gladly. She would've given her arms and legs if it meant she'd have a ringside 
seat to see the story of their lives play out, year after year after year.
She wanted to see Ashley and Landon marry, and watch Cole thrive under the 
direction of a daddy. She wanted to hold Kari's new baby and cradle the child 
Erin and Sam were adopting. Certainly there would be more children in the season 
ahead. Luke would find a job and Reagan would finish school, and one day, if 
they chose to adopt, Tommy would have brothers and sisters. Same with Ashley and 
Landon, and Kari and Ryan.
Every Christmas there'd be more Baxter babies in the family photo, and Elizabeth 
didn't want to watch it happen from a window in heaven. She wanted to be here, 
to hold the babies and help her children get through the early years of 
parenting.
More than that, she wanted to see the next round of weddings.
: She wanted to sit beside John when Maddie and Cole and Hayley got married. 
Because Hayley would get married one day; Elizabeth was sure. Hayley would get 
better each year and eventually
.he'd be right there with her peers, walking and talking and
as if she'd never spent twenty minutes underwater in a
pool.
Elizabeth wanted to see it all, feel it all, taste it all. Hold John's
while it all played out before her. If losing her breasts was price she had to 
pay to live that long, then so be it.
A team of people were working on her now, checking her inline,
measuring the dose of anesthetic.
"Elizabeth, we're going to give you something to put you to
, okay?"
' "Okay." She pressed her hands against the sides of her chest and closed her 
eyes. Memories flashed at her, the times she'd cradled a crying baby against her 
breast or sat up in
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the wee hours nursing. A sigh came from the depths of her soul, and she blinked 
her eyes open. "I'm ready."
"All right, then." The young man tending to her was kind, his voice calm and 
reassuring. "I need you to lay your arms out straight, nice and relaxed."
She did as she was asked. God... be with me. Take my breasts, but give me my 
life. Please, God... I'm not ready to die. Please...
"Okay, you'll start to feel yourself getting warm and heavy." The young man 
slipped a dose of medication into her IV tubing. "Just relax, now. Try to count 
to ten for me, all right?"
"One..." Please, God... be with me. "Two..." Let me live; let them get it all, 
please. "Three..." Be with John; he's so afraid that I'll...
That was as far as she got.
51 Sleep claimed her. The last thought she had before going under was not about 
all she was losing this morning on the operating table. But it was about all she 
would get in return.
If only God might let her live.
115 
The call came sometime after one o'clock. While her mother was in surgery, Erin 
hadn't eaten, hadn't done anything but clean the house and pray, begging God 
with every breath the surgery would leave her mother free of cancer. Forever 
time.
Her father had promised a phone call the moment he knew and so far there'd been 
no word. So when the phone rang, she dropped the Windex and a roll of paper 
towels and ran for the kitchen.
"Hello?" She was breathless, wishing she could've found a way to be at the 
hospital instead of so far away.
E!. ',Very race." A man chuckled on the other end. "You must've been waiting for 
my-- call."
:
'At first Erin didn't recognize the voice. But as soon as she did, a chill ran 
down her spine and she shuddered. She grabbed the
nearest chair and sat down. "Who is this?
Another chuckle. "It's your good friend Dave.' He cleared his voice and made a 
mocking attempt at sounding more official.
that's right; you know me as the birth father."
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Erin clenched her teeth. "If you're looking for my husband, he's at work. You'll 
have to call back later."
"Listen--" his tone was suddenly gruff--'I'm a busy man, okay? You tell your 
hubby we're still a little short on cash; got it?"
A woman's voice sounded in the background, but Erin couldn't make out what she 
was saying.
"How short are you, Dave?" Erin hated herself for asking. They were out of money 
anyway. The cost of the adoption had depleted their savings, and now that they'd 
sold their car they had nothing left to sell. No money to scrounge up.
"Well..." Dave dragged the word out, toying with her. "Five thousand was too 
easy; know what I mean? Rich folks like you and your old man must have dough 
stashed away somewhere."
"How much, Dave?" Erin didn't have the patience for this. Her mother was being 
operated on fifteen hundred miles away. The last thing she was up to was another 
round of game playing with the slime ball on the other end of the phone. "What's 
the bottom line?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Ten thousand dollars. One final payment and the baby's 
yours. I promise."
Erin's mouth hung open. Ten thousand dollars? The amount screamed at her again 
and again.
"So what is it? Do we have a deal, or what?"
No words came from Erin. She couldn't speak, couldn't think about anything but 
the amount. Ten thousand dollars? For a moment her mind raced and she thought 
about calling her father, or Kari and Ryan. They might have that kind of money 
sitting in an account.
But bigger than the money or how she might get it was a truth that was only now 
becoming clear to her. The game Dave and Candy were playing was illegal. They 
couldn't blackmail them this way, raising the stakes each week in an attempt to 
sell their baby.
It was wrong for the two of them to ask for more money, but it
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kingsbury smalley
was also wrong for Erin and Sam to pay it. Sam was right; they
' should've gone to the attorney and the social worker after that first meeting 
in the park. This wasn't about Candy needing a little
extra money for diapers and vitamins.
It was extortion.
Sam had already told her that if the couple asked for more money, they would 
have no choice but to turn them in and risk
losing the baby.
Dave was still talking as Erin clicked the Offbutton on the receiver. 
Then she did what she should've done a week ago. She dialed 
the number for the social worker and held her breath. When the woman answered, 
Erin explained the entire story.
told her about the meeting at the park and their race to sell Sam's 
car and give Dave and Candy the cash.
"The last phone call came a few minutes ago." Erin was tired,
on a strength that wasn't her own. All she wanted was to be 
in Bloomington, at her father's side in a hospital waiting praying for her 
mother. She willed herself to focus. "They want ten 
thousand dollars more or they won't give up the baby."
The social worker was outraged. She promised to contact the attorney and the 
proper authorities. "People go to jail for 
this sort of thing, Erin. You made the right choice by calling me."
right choice, she thought. But at what cost? Certainly wouldn't want to give her 
baby to them after they'd reported their scam to the authorities. When the 
conversation was over, Erin called Sam and told him what had happened.
His tone was heavy, but he was proud of her. "Can you imagine. like that, Erin? 
Even if they gave us the baby, they'd ask
for more money, making more threats." end of the call, they agreed that God was 
behind what today, that somehow this setback would lead to "Maybe the courts 
will take the matter out of Maybe the baby will come early, with no possifor 
Candy to change her mind."
118 
Erin wasn't hopeful.
Three hours later she got the call she'd been waiting for all day.
"Honey, it's Dad. She came through okay."
"How is she? I've been praying all day, I want to be there so badly."
"I know. Luke feels the same way." Her father's voice was thick. Nothing about 
it sounded upbeat or hopeful. "Your mother won't be able to have visitors until 
tomorrow, and then they're hoping to get her home pretty quickly. It's better 
that you're there, honey."
Erin hesitated. If she never asked the question, she'd never have to deal with 
the answer. But that wasn't realistic. She shaded her eyes with her free hand. 
"How is she, Dad? What'd the surgeons say?"
"They're concerned but hopeful, which is a good thing. They have to run tests to 
see if they got it all, but Dr. Steinman said she has a good chance of 
recovery." He hesitated. ,They're recommending pretty intensive chemo and 
radiation for the next eight weeks."
Erin felt hersdf dump forward. "Eight weeks?"
"Yes," Her father sighed. "That'll take us to the middle of May, and then 
they'll run some more tests and see how she's responding."
The worst part was the waiting. Eight weeks? Eight weeks of recovery from 
surgery along with heavy chemo and radiation? All before they might have an idea 
about whether Morn was winning the battle? Erin worked her fingers into her 
brow. "That's all, Dad? Didn't they say anything else?"
Her father paused just long enough to make Erin suspicious, "We'll know more in 
eight weeks."
"What about today? They must have some idea if they got it all."
"You're right." He Sounded resigned. "They have some idea." "And?"
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k i n g b u r y s m a lie Ľ
"And the cancer's very aggressive, Erin. They're. not sure if they got it all."
Erin felt the floor move beneath her feet. Cancer was a terrifying thing at any 
level, but when doctors weren't raving with good news after a double mastectomy, 
the stakes were higher than ever before.
If they didn't get it all with the surgery, then her mother wouldn't be batding 
cancer any longer. She would be fighting for her life.
"I'm sorry, honey." Her father's voice was thick again. "You asked me to be 
honest."
"I know; I appreciate that." Erin's mind raced. "Have you told he others?"
"Yes." He drew in a shaky breath. "They were all waiting for my call. Everyone 
knows."
A chill passed over Erin, and she tightened her grip on the phone. 
"What's the plan, Dad? I want to see her."
"I've told everyone the same thing." He coughed. "Your mother 
wants everyone to get together this summer for a reunion At Sanibel Island in 
Florida." "Sanibel Island? Why there?"
"I guess she's always wanted an island vacation with her family." His tone said 
even he couldn't understand her request. "I'm
sure about Sanibel Island, but if things go well, she should be
enough to get out a bit by the first of July."
"Ashley's wedding is July nineteenth, right?"
"Right." His tone was heartfelt. "Here's what I'm thinking." Erin blinked back 
the tears. Whatever he was about to say, the
meant a great deal to him. Whatever it took, she would her best to go along with 
the plan.
"Maybe set aside the month of July. I know Sam can't get a
month off, but you can, right?"
"Definitely."
mother would like everyone to fly into Fort Myers
after the Fourth of July for the reunion. Then maybe
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we can all fly home and use our house as headquarters as we get ready for 
Ashley's wedding."
Erin didn't want to say it, hated herself for needing to know, but she couldn't 
stop herself. "What if..." Her voice fell away.
"What if she isn't well enough to get away?" Sadness leaked between every word. 
"I can't think that far ahead, Erin. The others asked the same thing. All I can 
say is keep July open. Your mother wants everyone together, and if she has her 
way, we'll spend a week together on a beach in south Florida."
When Sam got home, Erin was in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair 
thinking about the changes that had come into their lives in the past week. She 
heard him park his van in the garage and enter the house. The phone rang, and 
she heard him answer it. Whoever it was, he talked for only a few minutes; then
she heard his footsteps in the hallway.
"Erin?"
"I'm in here." Her cheeks were tight, her makeup smeared from the tears she'd 
cried since talking to her father.
Sam stood in the doorway to the nursery, and the moment she saw his face she 
knew. Something was wrong, something other than Candy and Dave's attempts to 
blackmail money from them, something other than her mother's cancer and the fact 
that just possibly the doctors hadn't gotten it all with the double mastectomy. 
Part of her wanted to cover her ears and run from the room. She'd had more bad 
news than she could take. But another part was drawn in, desperate to know what 
could possibly make Sam look so upset.
"What is it, Sam?" She pressed her back against the rocker and set the chair in 
motion. "Tell me."
"The social worker called." His tone was defeated. "They arrested Dave and Candy 
and another man named Larry. Apparently police found paperwork at their 
apartment detailing the entire scheme. It was pretty elaborate, Erin. They 
planned to take as much money from us as possible, and then skip town.
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kingsbury smalley
Dave had another couple lined up in Dallas willing to pay ten thousand dollars 
through a private attorney."
Erin's head was spinning. She stopped rocking and stared at Sam. "You mean.., 
you mean they never intended to give us their baby?"
"No." Sam leaned against the doorframe and slid himself down until he was 
sitting on the floor. "Police contacted the attorney in Dallas, and of course 
they had no idea Dave and Candy arranged for us to adopt the baby."
"No, Sam. No... it isn't true." Erin bent forward. Black spots filled her vision 
and she felt light-headed, sick to her stomach, and faint. "Tell me the baby's 
still ours."
Sam let his gaze fall to the floor. When he found her eyes again, he shook his 
head. "Candy's changed her mind, Erin. She told the worker she was coerced into 
the plan from the beginning. thing: the adoption, the demands for money. She 
says to keep her baby and be the best mother she can be."
Erin wanted to vomit. "She's lying, Sam. You saw her. She doesn't care a bit for 
the kids she already has." "I know that." Sam dropped his head in his hands for 
nearly a minute. "How's your mother?"
"Not good." She started to tell Sam the details, how the docors were afraid they 
might not have gotten all her cancer, and her mother would have to face a 
rigorous round of chemo radiation.
But instead she dropped from the chair to her knees. She went across the floor 
to Sam and knelt between his legs. "Hold me, Sam. I can't take another minute of 
this day."
He rose to his knees. His arms came around her, and they sat that way as every 
sad thing about the day pressed in Erin's heart. She was grateful for Sam, 
grateful that he enough to hold her, to rock away the sorrow that threatened to 
suffocate her. As night brought a merciful end to the day, Erin was sure her 
siblings were also bearing the pain of the news about their mother.
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But hers was a different pain, more intense. Because she wasn't only dealing 
with the possible loss of their mother. She had lost a daughter, too.
All in one very awful March afternoon.
123 
CHAPTER TWELVE
Weeks had passed since his mother's surgery, and there were times when Luke 
still wanted to drop everything and head to Bloomington.
"I'll be fine," she told him every time he called. "Focus on life there, Luke. 
We'll see each other this summer." He opened his leather portfolio and slipped a 
stack of papers inside. He'd had two classes this morning and then an hour- 
break at home. The law office was expecting him by one for a four-hour shift. 
Luke didn't mind; he loved his job.
at the university had arranged it, an internship with and McKenzie, one of the 
top entertainment-law firms in
into the job, one of the partners had pulled him "You can clerk for us until the 
day we hire you, Luke. a hard worker and we like your style."
was flattered. He had always figured he'd defend relirights once he earned his 
law degree. But entertainment exciting, at least for now. Movie stars and 
television ac- made regular appearances in the office, stopping by with agents 
to go over the details of a contract or a pending deal.
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Reagan was still excited about the names he dropped at the end of a shift, the 
entertainers who had stopped by and chatted with him while they waited for their 
agents and lawyers to hash out the details. But Luke wasn't that impressed. 
People were people, whether they clerked at a law office or made blockbuster 
films.
Still, the job was fast-paced and challenging, and Luke could hardly wait for 
the dayptwo years down the road when he would have his law degree and the chance 
to jump into the middle of contract negotiations, arbitrations, and court cases.
Reagan entered the bedroom and smiled. Tommy was on her hip. "Your mother called 
while you were at school."
"Really?" Luke tucked the bag under his arm and put his free hand around 
Reagan's shoulders. "What'd she say?"
"She's feeling better. She wants you to call when you have a chance."
Tommy reached out and patted Luke's hair. "Dada."
"Hi, little man." Luke brushed his nose against Tommy's. "How's the world's 
greatest baby today?"
"He took his first step." Reagan beamed. She was beautiful, not only because of 
her long legs and striking features. Ever since their wedding she hadn't stopped 
glowing. As if the sadness of losing her father and all the hard times that had 
followed had finally lifted from her heart.
"He isn't even ten months old!" Luke took hold of Tommy's fist and waved it in 
the air. "Champion baby of the world, right here. Yes sirree!"
Reagan giggled and sat. on the edge of their bed. Tommy squirmed and she put him 
down so he could balance against the mattress. "How is your morn, really, Luke? 
Have you heard?"
"No." Luke stood near her. He worked his fingers into the base of her neck, 
massaging the knots that gathered there after a day of caring for Tommy. "My dad 
hasn't said much lately." He met Reagan's eyes and held them for a moment. 
"They're pretty
125 bury
smalley
they didn't get it all we know that. Now it's a waiting
To see how well she responds to the treatment."
"She's started, right?"
"Yes. A few days after the surgery."
Reagan winced. She swept Tommy back into her arms and
again. "I'm sorry, Luke. I know how hard this has to be." "Sometimes 1 think 
that's why I'm working so much. A full
at school and the hours I'm putting in at Morris and
"Could be." She leaned in and kissed him, a slow, seductive square on the lips. 
Tommy cooed at them and grabbed a of Reagan's hair.
"That was nice." Luke tightened his hold on the portfolio. An- kiss like that 
onk and he'd skip work for the day. ' "Listen--" she drew back, her eyes 
tender--"I want you to I support what you're doing. The hours at Morris and 
they're going somewhere. It's your future--our fu- Don't ever think I expect you 
to miss out on an opportunity this one, okay?",
He kissed her this time and took a few steps toward !door. "I'll be home before 
dinner." took the subway to the law office, situated a few blocks Times Square, 
in the heart of the theater district. He had
settled in at his desk when he heard a commotion in the room.
of the secretaries popped her head in and giggled. Then loud whisper she 
explained what was happening. "Dayne He's here. Can you believe it?"
rolled his eyes and smiled. "Oh boy! Get an autograph okay?" woman made a face 
at him and turned around, closing her. Luke chuckled to himself. Dayne Matthews 
household name, a rising star who was cast in lead roles of his uncanny acting 
ability and his blond, boyish good compared him to a young Robert Redford, a 
heart
126 
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throb with timeless charm and a way of relating on-screen that kept him in high 
demand in Hollywood.
Luke had heard from one of the attorneys that Dayne was a client, but the guy 
spent most of his time in Hollywood, checking in with the offices Morris and 
McKenzie had there. He was probably filming something on location in New York 
City. Yes, that was it. Someone at the office had mentioned that the day before.
The commotion was dying down. The star gazers in the office had apparently found 
their way back to their work, and Dayne and his agent were probably getting down 
to business.
Luke studied the stack of contracts on his desk. Contracts made up the bulk of 
his work. The attorneys would write up an agreementbsometimes thirty, forty 
pages longhand attach it to a boilerplate, a contract that had already been 
approved. Luke's job was to go through both documents and find discrepancies. He 
would then yellow tag them so the attorney could go back and make sure the 
differences were intentional.
There was enough work to keep Luke busy ten hours a day, but he had agreed to 
just under thirty hours a week. Long enough to learn the business and figure out 
if entertainment law was his thing or not, but with time built into his schedule 
for classes and studying and his young wife and son. Them most of all.
He picked up the first contract and laid it out on the desk in front of him. 
Before he could reach for the boilerplate, the door opened and Joe Morris walked 
in with Dayne Matthews and another man.
Luke might not have been starstruck, but he knew enough to rise for the 
occasion. He stood and shook the partner's hand. "Ilr. Morris, good to see you."
"You, too, Luke. I thought I'd introduce you to one of our clients." He stepped 
aside and nodded at the man on his left. "This is Dayne Matthews, and his agent, 
Chris Kane."
"Nice to meet you." Luke shook Dayne's hand and then nod
127 
ingsbury smalley
at the man's agent. He grinned at Dayne. "My wife's a big
"Thanks." Dayne looked comfortable. He wore a pullover and
but he would've had to work hard to hide the face was coming to love. "Joe tells 
us you'll be the next big
gave a slight roll of his eyes. "As soon as I get
law degree."
Joe Morris and Dayne's agent started a conversation about aspect of Dayne's 
current contract. They stood near the leaving Dayne no choice but to take the 
chair opposite ; desk. He shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like it could be a
had happened before. Joe and an agent would get into
and leave Luke to talk to the client. With the two of
the door as they talked, Dayne Was right. It could
a while.
on location, right? Filming something in Manhattan?" "Yes." Dayne smiled. 
"They're going through technical shoots
so we had some time off."
felt himself relax a little. The office always made a big about the stars it 
represented, and many of them were high-
demanding the attention they felt they deserved of their visibility.
Dayne was different.
the moment they met, Luke felt something familiar
him, as if Dayne didn't quite believe the fame and attenpeople had awarded him. 
The air of pretense that sur-
most big names was simply missing with Dayne. what's your StOl,, Luke Baxter?" 
Dayne fingered the
n Luke's desk. "You look too young to be married." i'Young but definitely 
happy." Luke chuckled and pointed to a
)hotograph of him and Reagan with Tommy. "That's my
picked up the picture and studied it. "I can see why
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you're happy." He set it back down and looked at the other pictures on Luke's 
desk. A photo of Tommy on his six-month birthday, one of Luke and Reagan at 
their wedding the previous Christmas.
Then Dayne's expression changed. "Who's this?" He picked up a small photograph 
of Luke's mother and father. It was taken when they were both students at the 
University of Michigan.
"My parents." Luke twisted so he could get a good look at the picture. "The way 
they looked in 1967, the year they met."
Dayne studied the photo a little longer, and then put it back. "They look nice."
"They are." Luke reached up and took another photo from the top shelf of his 
desk. "This is them now. They'll be married thirty-five years in August."
Again Dayne took special interest in the photo. "Thirty-five years." He shook 
his head. "That's just about unheard-of where I come from."
For a single instant, Luke felt sorry for the movie star seated across from him. 
For some reason, the man was giving Luke a glimpse of his heart, of the things 
that might'v mattered to him if life were different. Almost as if Dayne longed 
for a desk like Luke's, one with a photograph of a pretty wife and an infant son 
and parents who had stayed married for thirty-five years.
Dayne leaned back and crossed his arms, studying Luke. "You're a Christian, 
aren't you, Luke?"
"I am." Again, Luke wasruck by Dayne's transparency. "How did you know?"
"Your eyes." He laughed and flashed the smile that brought in millions at the 
box office. "And the eyes of your wife and parents.
It's the same way my own parents looked."
"They're believers, then?"
"They were." Dayne sucked in a long breath and sat a little straighter in his 
seat. "I lost them a long time ago. They were missionaries; they died in a 
small-plane crash in the jungles of Southeast Asia."
129 
kingsbury smal[ey
The story triggered something Reagan had told him. She'd found a copy of People 
magazine in the doctor's office at one of Tommy's appointments and read that 
Dayne Matthews was raised in a boarding school, the son of missionaries. Luke 
kept the memory to himself. Instead he bit his lip and held Dayne's eyes for a 
moment. "I'm sorry. That must've been hard."
Dayne raised his shoulders. "They loved God more than me." He laughed, but it 
sounded practiced. "I was just a kid; I couldn't exactly compete with God, you 
know?"
Luke was hardly a psychiatrist, but even so he could read between the lines of 
what Dayne was saying. No wonder he was taken by Luke's family pictures. He had 
lost the people he loved most, and all because they had loved God more than him. 
That was how Dayne saw it, anyway, and his story explained much about his 
ability to express emotions onthe big screen.
Luke wanted to keep the conversation going, find out more about the man sitting 
across from him. But everything he thought to ask, he already knew. Dayne had a 
reputation for playing the field, dating his leading ladies, and then walking 
away before things got too serious. His personal life was splashed across the 
cover of People magazine and every tabloid in the business.
"You know something, Luke Baxter?" Dayne leveled his gaze at him. He was a 
straight shooter, a man whose star status didn't figure into the conversation. 
Dayne pointed at the pictures on desk. "You're a lucky young man. That--" he 
nodded to faces in the photographs--"that's what matters in the end, know?"
: "You're right." Luke looked at the pictures again. "I almost year ago. But 
now--" he met Dayne's eyes again-- I'm never letting go. Not for anything."
"Good." Dayne grabbed the arms of his chair and looked over shoulder. His agent 
and Joe Morris had moved their converinto a nearby room, so there was no longer 
a reason for to stay. He stood and stretched. Then he reached out and hand. 
"Nice meeting you."
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"You too." Luke w.as struck by this guy, how easily they'd hit it off from the 
moment they were introduced. In another setting, they might've become friends, 
taken an interest in getting to know each other. But Dayne Matthews was, well, 
he was Dayne 
Matthews. People didn't just befriend big-time movie stars. Dayne nodded at 
Luke. "See you around." 
"Yeah." Luke did a small wave. "Good luck with your film." 
"Thanks." And with that, Dayne turned around and walked out of Luke's office and 
down the hallway. 
Luke didn't see him again that day, but he was sure of one thing: He wouldn't 
forget their conversation as long as he lived. Not because Dayne was a movie 
star, someone larger than life. But because he was human, just a guy caught up 
in the fast pace of life, wistful over the thought of normalcy. 
Something about it made Luke sad, and he could hardly wait to shar.e the story 
with Reagan. She would be bowled over, of course, asking him if he'd gotten the 
man's autograph or in vited him for dinner. But when the silliness faded and she 
lis tened to the story, she would feel it, too. An ache for someone like Dayne 
Matthews, someone with limitless fame and talent and looks and money. But 
someone who was maybe missing 
the most important thing of all. 
Family. 
A few hours later, Luke finished up. He gathered his things and headed down the 
hall. On his way he poked his head into the office of Joe Morris. "Hey, thanks 
for introducing me. He's the real deal. Very down to earth." 
Joe was about to say something, but he set his pen down and stared at Luke. "My 
word, Baxter, look at you." 
Luke took a step back and shot a glance at the length of him self in Joe's 
mirror. "Did I spill pizza sauce on my shirt again?" 
"No." Joe stood up, his eyes wide. "You look exactly like Dayne Matthews." He 
shook his head. "When I hired you I knew you looked like someone famous, but I 
couldn't put my finger on it." He chuckled. "Now I know." 
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kingsbury smalley
"Really?" No one had told him that before.
"I mean, Baxter, you could be the guy's twin."
"I guess there are worse things you could say about me." Luke laughed and raised 
his portfolio in the air. "Maybe I should drop law and take up acting."
132 
133 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With all that was going on in her life, Ashley had asked the owner of Sunset 
Hills for six months off. Long enough to get .them through the summer, the 
reunion their mother wanted, and her wedding.
She still had money in savings from the paintings she'd sold in and the 
occasional sale that took place at the local gallery. Taking time off was a good 
thing. It gave her time with Cole and Landon and her mother. Most of all her 
mother.
Two weeks had passed since her mother's surgery. Often in afternoon Kari and 
Jessie joined Ashley and Cole in long around their mother's bed. She was still 
weak the operation, her incisions still healing. And the sickness already kicked 
in.
She'd lost weight and hair and had trouble keeping food But at times like this, 
with the early April sun streaming the bedroom window and her mother sitting up 
in bed at the stories Kari told about little Jessie, it easy to think her mother 
wasn't sick at all.
Elizabeth drew a long breath and pressed the blankets down
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around her waist. "You tell the funniest stories, Kari. Sometimes I think you 
should've done stand-up work."
"Who knew two-year-olds could provide such good material?"
They all laughed again and Ashley remembered something. "I think I found the 
bridesmaids' dresses." She darted across the room and pulled a slip of folded 
paper from her purse. "I found this in one of those wedding books."
Ashley opened the advertisement and showed it to Kari. Their mother leaned 
closer, trying to get a better look. "Oh, Ashley, it's beautiful."
The dress was formfitting but not tight, a thin black satin with a single strap 
over the left shoulder.
"Oh, sure." Kari chased after Jessie and whisked her up onto her lap. "I'll 
be--what?---over four months pregnant." She traced the narrow waist of the model 
wearing the dress. "I'll be the general shape of a rectangle by then; keep that 
in mind."
Kari and Mom laughed, but Ashley was quick to accommodate. "We can have yours 
custom made. That won't be a problem."
"Just give me a gunnysack. That way I can be sure the waist will fit." Kari set 
Jessie down, and they watched her skip across the room and stare out the window.
"Kitty, Mommy! Look!" Kari struggled to her feet and went to Jessie. As she did 
she looked over her shoulder. "Of course, if Jessie keeps up this aerobics 
program, I might actually fit into the dress."
Again they laughed, and Ashley savored the feeling.
This was what she'd always hoped for, wasn't it? Not just the fact that she was 
marrying the man of her dreams, a man who would be her best friend and the 
greatest daddy in the world for Cole. But that she had this, too. Unhurried 
conversations with her. mother and sisters about dresses and fittings and all 
the other details that went into planning a wedding.
135 
"Have you decided on the music?" Her mother reached into the top drawer of her 
nightstand and pulled out a pad of paper.
"You mean I'm not singing?" Kari kneeled beside Jessie, who was still caught up 
in watching the kitty through the window. "I thought for sure you'd have me 
sing."
Ashley and Mom winced at the same time. Kari had always been good in front of a 
camera, but never in front of a microphone..She was completely tone deaf. 
Everyone in the Baxter family knew that.
"Well--" Ashley played along--"I want people to dance, not leave early with a 
headache."
Kari made a face. "Ouch, little sister. Cut me deep."
Their mother studied the notebook on her lap. "Last time we talked, you were 
leaning toward a DJ; is that right?"
"Actually..." Ashley watched her mother and tried not to notice the way her 
lightweight cotton robe fell flat against her chest. "Landon's thinking about a 
live band. One of the guys at the fire station plays in one that does weddings. 
They can do seventies, eighties, country--pretty much anything that gets people 
on a dance floor."
Her mother thought about that. "It sounds lovely, Ashley. Would you like me to 
find out what they charge, or will Landon take care of that?"
Ashley's heart melted. "Landon'll do it, Mom. You're supposed to be recovering, 
remember?"
"My hands still work." Her mother held her chin up. "I hate just lying here when 
I could be doing something to help. Your wedding's in less than four months, 
honey. That's sooner than you think."
"Let's see, four months..." Kari studied the ceiling. "That means Jessie will be 
two and my morning sickness will be gone." She punctuated the idea by jabbing 
her finger into the air. "Let's hope it's sooner than we think."
"Ah, yes. I remember feeling that way." Their mother grinned, but she gave Kari 
a pointed look. "I thought I'd never have all
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you kids out of diapers, but it was over in a blur." Her voice was tender, her 
eyes suddenly damp. "Your little Jessie girl is a handful now, but savor every 
minute, Kari. Blink a few times and you'll be at her high school graduation."
Ashley was about to agree when the phone rang.
Elizabeth picked up the receiver and tapped the On button. "Hello?', A pause 
followed and she covered the mouthpiece. "It's Erin," she whispered. "Yes, I 
remember."
For several minutes their mother carried on a conversation with Erin, assuring 
her that yes, everything would be okay. Yes, God had a plan for her life and the 
life of the baby girl Candy had refused to give up. "He has a baby for you, 
Erin. I believe that much." A bit of silence. "Have you and Sam prayed about 
that?"
Ashley could hardly believe it. Here was their mother, fighting some awful, 
aggressive breast cancer, struggling to keep down even a glass of water, but her 
entire energy was focused on her children, on the events they were dealing with: 
Erin's loss of the baby she'd been waiting for, Luke's highs and lows at his new 
job, Kari's struggles with her strong-willed two-year- old, even the wedding she 
and Landon were planning.
All of it mattered more to Elizabeth than her own situation. Their father had 
always been the strong silent type, the spiritual leader everyone fell back on 
when times were tough. But their mother was the family's heartbeat. Always she 
was at the center of their good and bad times, lending perspective or a kind 
word or a shoulder to cry on.
Never did any of them appreciate her more than they did now. Ashley talked to 
her siblings every day, and all of them were praying, praying with a kind of 
fervor none of them had known before. Not because they doubted God's 
faithfulness in hearing their prayers and answering. But because they 
appreciated her so much more now, appreciated everything she'd ever done, every 
perfect word or loving touch. Before they might're taken her for granted once in 
a while, the way kids sometimes do with their parents. But not anymore.
137 
Now they savored every minute. And when they weren't doing that, they kept busy 
trying not to think about what would happen
if God decided to take her home early.
Because none of them--Ashley most of all--had any idea how they'd survive 
without her.
The girls had been gone for thirty minutes, and it was an hour before John would 
be home.
Elizabeth was glad. She hated getting sick in front of them, and the nausea hit 
her like clockwork every afternoon. Always she found a reason to say good-bye to 
whichever visitors had stopped by: Almost always Kari and Ashley were there, and 
often Brooke came by on her lunch break.
But come four o'clock, she would yawn and tell them she was tired:, she needed 
her rest if she was going to kick cancer in the
and send it on its way. But the truth was, she needed her
in order to hide her sickness.
The nausea came at her like a baseball bat, hard and swift and
in its accuracy. She would barely make it to the bathroom, grab the sink, and 
thrust her face toward the toilet.
This afternoon was worse than usual, the way Dr. Steinman
predicted.
"When will it go away?" she'd asked him the last time John
had taken her in for a post-op checkup. "A few weeks?"
He'd sighed and shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not, Elizabeth. It'll
get worse before it gets better."
Indeed.
Elizabeth clung to the toilet rim. If she didn't hang on, she would fall to the 
floor and never get up. Her stomach twisted
convulsed until she had nothing left but dry heaves. Then,
the nausea subsided and she slithered to the floor.
down her face, and she ran her hands through hair, trying to cool off. But the 
action left something strange
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in her fingers, and when she looked she gasped out loud. Her hands were full of 
hair--thick, dark clumps that stuck to her palms and twisted around her fingers. 

The picture made her sick in a new sort of way. She pushed herself into a 
sitting position and grabbed a piece of toilet paper. Then she gathered the hair 
from her hands, wrapped it in the pa per, and threw it in the trash. 
From the beginning Dr. Steinman had told her what to expect, but nothing 
could're prepared her for this. At the rate she was losing her hair, she'd have 
to start wearing a baseball cap in the next few days. Not that she had to; she'd 
even told herself that it wouldn't matter. 
It was just hair; it would grow back. 
But now that it was falling out, leaving blank patches along her scalp, 
Elizabeth was horrified. All her life her hair had been part of her look, 
something she'd expected with each glance in the mirror. Watching it fall out 
was horrifying. She would either shave it all off or wear a cap. That way when 
she stumbled into the bathroom for another round of vomiting, her reflection 
wouldn't make things worse. 
Minutes passed, and finally Elizabeth had the strength to stand. She was halfway 
out of the bathroom when she stopped and stared in the mirror. Dr. Steinman had 
been checking her in cisions every few days, and he was happy with how she was 
heal ing. He had advised her not to look at herself until she was prepared 
mentally for what she would see. 
Elizabeth pressed her robe smooth against her belly and winced at her flat 
chest. Her shape looked unreal, as if someone had placed her image in a 
computerized photo program and swapped her top with that of a man. The idea that 
her breasts were gone was something she couldn't quite grasp yet. 
She turned sideways and studied her altered profile; then she faced the mirror 
again. Was she ready? Was this the time when she should lift her pajama top and 
see the damage cancer had 
139 
kin g s u r y ,' s m a lie y
wreaked on her body? Dr. Steinman had warned her that the sight--at first--could 
make her sick to her stomach.
But after spending twenty minutes hovered over the toilet, she didn't have 
anything left to lose. She might as well look now and get it over with. Not 
looking didn't make things different, didn't change the fact that she'd had a 
double mastectomy. The sooner she could stand looking at herself in the mirror, 
the closer she'd be to making a comeback.., right?
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and steeled herself to the image she was about to 
see. One button at a time she undid her lightweight robe and let it fall to the 
floor. Her thin cotton pajama shirt was all that stood in the way now. Her heart 
kicked into a strange double beat as she crossed her arms in front of her and 
took hold of the shirt bottom. Slowly, one inch at a time she lifted it until 
she had exposed her entire midsection.
For a while she looked at herself that way, with only her middle showing. Not 
bad, she thought. Not bad considering all the pregnancies and births her stomach 
had been through. She drew a deep breath and held it. One more inch and then 
another and
Her eyes grew wide, her expression frozen as she pulled the shirt all the way 
off. The flesh across her chest was pink and flat land stretched along the 
sides. The scar worked its way in a grononpattern
around the perimeter of where each breast
Elizabeth couldn't draw a breath, couldn't exhale, couldn't do but stare in 
horror at herself. She would never let John see her this waymnever. The longer 
she studied herself, the e she looked. Shocking, horrifying, a mutilated mass of 
flat- scarred tissue where she once had looked feminine and tive.
She'd seen this look somewhere before, and finally she remembered where. On a 
special about nuclear war and Hiroshima, she'd seen photos of people with 
massive chemical burns across their
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bodies. That's how she looked now. Like a burn victim, the sort of hideous look 
people turned away from in disgust.
With a sudden move Elizabeth turned her back to the mirror and slipped her 
pajama top back on. Dr. Steinman was right. She should've waited until she was 
ready, until the incisions had time to heal completely, until she was more used 
to the idea.
In the hours and days and weeks to come, she would feel sicker and lose more 
hair. Probably all of it. Life was going to get harder, more tiresome with every 
morning. That combined with how badly she'd been disfigured could've been enough 
to make her give up. But she couldn't do that, not when she had so much to live 
for.
Elizabeth shuffled her way to the bed, fell onto it, and stretched her legs out. 
God... help me fight this battle. I can't do it without you. I look hideous, 
God. Even you must think so.
The curtains rustled as a light breeze sifted through the bedroom window.
You are beautiful, daughter. I knit you together in your mother's womb.
The holy response came at her in the wind and spoke to her soul. "God?" She 
whispered his name, glancing about the room. He was here, wasn't he? Caring 
about her, loving her even if she looked like a monster. It was true. God had 
knit her together in
her mother's womb, and that's still the way he saw her. Whole and complete and 
beautiful.
Suddenly she knew the goal, knew how she'd have to see herself if she was ever 
to take the upper hand over cancer. God had given her a second chance with the 
surgery, and that could never be a bad thing, no matter how she looked. She 
would check her reflection in the mirror every day, praying not for a renewed 
body but for a renewed heart. She would know she was on the right track when she 
could look in the mirror and not be horrified. When her flat, misshapen chest 
was no longer a sign of defeat and disease and destruction.
But rather a sign of God Almighty's redemption and deliver-
ance.
141 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The social worker had tried to warn Erin what would happen if the adoption fell 
through, the sorrow she would experience. "You'll feel like your baby died," the 
woman told her. "Most people don't understand that."
Erin had let the comments pass. Her adoption wouldn't fail And if by some 
strange set of circumstances the adoption didn't take place, at least she would 
never have known the
But the social worker had been right on.
The weeks and months of putting together the nursery, talk-
about names with Sam, and dreaming with her mother about
of raising a little girl. All of it had made the child a real part of their 
family, even though they'd never met her. She
probably would have golden curls and big blue eyes like her sisters, and just 
before the meeting with Dave and Candy, they'd decided
on a name.
Amy Elizabeth:
Erin had talked with her mother and Ashley and Kari and
and all of them said the same thing. The feelings Erin
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was having, the thoughts that occupied her mind, all of it was the same as if 
she herself were carrying the baby. That's how strong the maternal instinct 
was--whether the baby grew inside her or not.
Now she could barely force herself to go to work each day. The students didn't 
know what was going on, only that their teacher wasn't herself, wasn't the 
happy, creative, energetic person they'd come to depend on. Erin couldn't help 
it. Every little girl in her class seemed to have the face she'd assigned to Amy 
Elizabeth.
Questions assaulted her.
How come if God was so good, he'd denied them the chance to be parents? Would 
Candy's baby girl have a hope for a good life living between Candy and her 
mother, running around barefoot in dirty clothes and eating wildflowers while 
Candy smoked dope?
None of it seemed right, and in the month since Candy changed her mind, Erin was 
certain the baby had been born. With Candy's future hanging in the balance, the 
infant girl was probably being cared for by her grandmother. The one their 
pastor had told them about in the first place.
Erin and Sam's car-sharing arrangement wasn't working out. Sam usually pulled up 
in front of her school at about five-thirty, long after Erin had finished 
correcting papers and prepping for the next day. Most days she sat in the 
school's library staring out the window waiting for him, hating herself for 
making Sam sell their car.
The whole ordeal had been such a waste.
Police had promised to try to recover the money they'd given Dave, but a search 
of his apartment turned up nothing but the empty envelope and ample drug 
paraphernalia. The money was gone--smoked or sniffed or shot up the arms of Dave 
and his friends.
Thinking about it didn't make things any better, but Erin couldn't help herself. 
It was Thursday night after a long week,
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kingsbury smalley
and as she and Sam walked through the garage door into their house they were 
both silent. That was something else, the way she and Sam hadn't talked to each 
other much since the loss of the baby.
That first night after they got the news had been good. Sam had held her and 
stroked her hair and helped her know she wasn't alone in how she felt. But since 
then he hadn't talked about the baby once, as if by ignoring the pain they were 
feeling it might somehow go away.
Erin wanted to talk about it all the time.
"Do you think she's had the baby yet, Sam?" she'd ask. Or "What would it take 
for Candy to change her mind again? You know, let us adopt her baby, after all?"
Sam would give her short answers, until finally she looked
deep into his eyes and accused him of not caring.
He denied that, but still..,
Erin put her bag away and returned to the kitchen. Sam was digging through the 
refrigerator. When he heard her come up behind him, he turned and gave her a 
half smile. "Any ideas for dinner?"
"Not a one." Erin flashed him a sarcastic smile and immediately let it drop from 
her face. "Maybe you can come up with something tonight."
Before the ordeal with the baby, Erin got home by four o'clock, early enough to 
make a meal. Now that they were down to one vehicle, she often used her slow 
cooker to keep a dinner simmering through the day. But this week she hadn't 
cooked once, falling back on tuna sandwiches, canned stew, and macaroni and 
cheese.
Sam released a long sigh, shut the refrigerator, and turned to her. "Wanna talk 
about it, Erin?"
"About what?" She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen 
counter, facing him.
"About your attitude?" His tone was even. He didn't want to fight with her; she 
could see that much.
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"I don't want dinner." She stared at her shoes, her eyes narrow. "I want that 
little girl." This time her eyes met his. "It's like I'm paralyzed, Sam. I'd do 
anything to make her ours again."
A tired look pulled at Sam's features;' but he came to her anyway. "I owe you an 
apology."
"Why?" She angled her head. She'd expected him to be frustrated with her tired 
of talking about Candy's baby.
"Because--" he rested against the center island and faced her, their toes 
touching--"every time you try to talk about what happened, I shut you down." He 
crossed his arms and shifted his gaze to the window behind her. "She's gone, 
Erin. I can't think what more we can say." He looked at her again. "But I was 
wrong; we have to talk about it. Otherwise we'll walk around like--" he gestured 
to the silent spaces between them--"like this, Erin. Silent and hurting and 
never connecting with each other."
"Somewhere in here--" Erin put her hand over her heart--"I don't feel like it's 
over, Sam. I feel like God still has a plan for that baby and for our role in 
her life." She let her hand fall to her side. "That's why I can't stop talking 
about her)' Air found its way into her lungs and she held her breath for a 
moment. "But you're right, too. We have to move on, and that won't happen until 
I let it go. At least once in a while."
Sam reached out and took her hands in his. "Let's make a deal."
"Okay." Her heart fluttered with possibility. "What?" "Every time you think 
about her, let's take it to God. Let's pray more, and maybe he'll show us why 
you still think he has a plan for this baby in our lives, okay?"
Prayer! Of course. She and Sam hadn't prayed about the baby since the day they'd 
found out. As if they'd taken the news and given up immediately.
She worked her fingers between his and drew him close. For a long time they 
stood that way, dinner forgotten, both lost in
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kingsbury smalley
own thoughts. She broke the silence first.."Can we pray now?"
"Yes." Sam closed his eyes and let his head rest against hers. "God, you know 
this little baby who may or may not be born yet, Candy's baby. Father, we still 
feel she's supposed to be with us, but we've failed to come to you every day and 
ask for a miracle. Forgive us, God. Please hear our prayers:"
The rest of the evening was better than any they'd shared in the past month. 
They talked about Erin's mother and the plans for a reunion that summer.
"Does your dad think she'll be well enough?"
"He won't say." She was sitting beside him on the sofa. "But I
he's worried."
"Why?"
"Because my mom wanted the reunion in late August, around
thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, but we're planning the
in July. There can only be one reason for that." Sam nodded, sympathy flooding 
his eyes, his voice softer than
"Your dad's worried she won't be well enough if they wait too long."
but Erin didn't want to say so. They read for a while, an occasional bit of 
conversation, and then they turned
7.
morning they were awakened.by a phone call just afo'clock. sat straight up in 
bed, her heart racing. She answered it second ring. "Hello?"
hello." It was the social worker. "I have some news
stopped. "About Candy?"
o, another baby."
heartbeat was back, twice as fast as before. "Another
I don't know if you heard the news a few weeks ago. A mother abandoned her 
newborn near the side door of a
146 
hospital in Dallas. The baby is mixed race. The mother is a sixteenyear-old 
African-American; the father is a teenage Caucasian. Anyway, the baby has been 
living with a short-term foster family while the courts decide what to do."
The facts swirled about in Erin's mind. She wrinkled her brow and gave Sam a 
gentle push. He eased himself up onto his elbow. "What is it?" he mouthed.
She covered the mouthpiece. "The social worker. She's telling me about another 
baby."
Sam sat up and hugged his pillow to his midsection, watching her, listening to 
her end of the conversation.
A bit of joy sang out in the social worker's voice: "The mother gave birth to 
the baby in her bedroom, snuck out the window, and walked two blocks to the 
hospital, where she wrapped her in
a sweatshirt and left her with a note."
"A note?"
"Yes. Her parents are very strict, a Christian couple who never approved of 
their daughter's dating the young man. Apparently he was an athlete with a 
penchant for beer and fast cars. The young girl went out with him anyway, and 
that first night she believes she was date-raped. She was afraid her parents 
would disown her, so she left the baby at the hospital. Now that her parents 
know the truth, the family is in counseling. I think they'll be okay, actually. 
The girl doesn't want the baby and neither do her parents. The boy has already 
signed off any rights to the baby, so he isn't an issue."
"And..." Erin's body was tense, every fiber in her being waiting for the woman 
to get to the point. "What did the courts cide?"
"The mother was charged with abandonmentwthough doubt she'll be convicted 
because of her age. And the judge declared the baby immediately available for 
adoption. I had marked your case a top priority because of what happened with 
Candy." The woman hesitated. "She's a beautiful, healthy little girl, Erin. The 
judge wanted her placed outside the Dallas area
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kingsbury smalley
because of the publicity surrounding the situation." She paused. "Would you and 
Sam be interested?"
Erin's mouth hung open. "Interested?" She wanted to toss the phone in the air 
and jump around the room. Instead she gathered her emotions and swallowed, 
searching for her voice. "Yes, we're very interested. Can I call you back in 
five minutes?"
The social worker agreed. Erin hung up and stared at Sam. "God did it, Sam! We 
prayed last night and now.., wait until you hear."
She told him the entire story and that the social worker was waiting for an 
answer. Race wasn't an issue because they'd decided that a year ago when they 
first considered adoption. color isn't all we make it out to be," Sam had told 
her back 'I think God must be up there shaking his head, wonder- why we chose 
that as such a dividing line among peoples of world."
never thought of it that way." Erin had looked at him, by the idea. "We could're 
divided ourselves by eye color ht or hair color just as easily."
He gave her a sad smile. "Can you imagine? You have Our groups of people 
would've been with each other through the centuries. One sex of bath- and eating 
areas for brown-eyed people, one for blue- And since there're more brown-eyed 
people in the world, folks would be the minority group."
idea was ludicrous, .the same way any discrimination on color was ludicrous. 
course, when they had learned about Candy, their about race were no longer an 
issue. Candy was white, her children were white. But still Erin had expected 
that down the road they might adopt a biracial baby or a Hispanic child.
his-eyes and stared at her, disbelief shading his ex-"You mean somewhere in 
Dallas there's a little girl be ours in a few days?"
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"Yes." Erin bit the inside of her lip. "Can you believe it, Sam?" She looked up 
at the ceiling and shook her head. "How can this be anything but a miracle?"
The phone was lying on the bed between them. Sam picked it up and tossed it to 
her. "Call, Erin. Before something else happens."
Erin laughed and had the number dialed before she drew her next breath. She told 
the social worker yes, they wanted the baby girl. The two of them made plans to 
pick up the child the following weekend at the social service office in Dallas. 
The worker in charge of the case would be there all day Saturday.
When Erin hung up the phone, she was shaking. She shared the information with 
Sam, and they laughed and hugged and rehashed the details again and again. It 
was amazing, that just the day before they had wondered if they'd ever be 
parents and now, in a few days, they would bring home their first child.
"I can't wait to call my mom." Erin sucked in a quick breath. Her mother was 
having a hard time. She hadn't said so, but Ashley and Kari and Brooke had kept 
her posted. The treatment was rougher than any of them had expected. The news 
about the baby was bound to lift her spirits.
"I still can't imagine dropping your baby off and walking away." Sam climbed out 
of bed and stretched. "Angels must've
been watching over that baby."
"Definitely."
For the briefest moment, Erin thought about Candy, about the newborn who was 
going to have such a different life now than the one she would've had with them. 
But just as quickly she put the thought out of her mind. God had given them a 
different little girl, one she was already starting to love and dream about.
Sam was getting dressed for work when he stopped and grinned at Erin. "We forgot 
one thing." He hopped a bit closer, his pants not quite on. "What do we call 
her?"
A feeling of sadness and far-off possibility wrapped itself around Erin's heart, 
and she tilted her head. "I'm not sure."
149 
"What about Amy Elizabeth?" Sam's voice was tender, aware that the name they had 
planned for Candy's daughter might strike a nerve.
Erin smiled and shook her head. "No, Sam. Anything but Amy Elizabeth." She 
crossed the room and kissed his forehead as he finished getting dressed. "That 
name will always belong to a different little girl. Even if we never meet her 
this side of heaven."
150 
151 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Daymen Matthews was trying to concentrate.
"Okay, Matthews, let's have you in the stairwell. The scene
you running up and we'll take it from there."
"Got it." Dayne entered the building, sidestepped, around
cameramen, and stood on the second stair.
"Places everyone," someone yelled. "We need it quiet." Dayne went over his lines 
one more time. The movie was a
and he was the lead. The scene they were filming in-
his breaking into an apartment and rescuing his girl- from two criminals who had 
taken her hostage.
He was supposed to knock out the kidnappers, grab her,
with the handcuffs on her wrists, and then lead her h a hallway, out a fire 
escape, and down into an alleyway. he was supposed to pick the lock on the 
handcuffs and
the bad guys firing guns in the distancemkiss her, passionate, before they ran 
for their lives. He'd already
p three times. Twice he tripped on the stairs and once ran to the wrong 
apartment door.
The scene was one of the most intense in the movie, and
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though they had another week left of shooting in Manhattan, the expectancy on 
the set made it feel like the movie might make it or break it depending on how 
they pulled off this scene.
But all Dayne could think about was the photograph on Luke Baxter's desk.
"Ready Matthews?" the director shouted at him from the street.
"Ready." He bent his knees and locked his arms in a running motion. Next he 
worked on his expression. Intense and frightened and bent on revenge all at 
once, that's what the scene called for.
"And... three.., two.., one.., action!"
Dayne sprang up the stairs, breathing hard, his footsteps quiet and stealthlike. 
Cameras followed his actions both from in front of and behind him as he tore 
down the hallway and stopped at the first door on the left. He put his ear to 
it, his hands shaky from the tension of the moment.
The subtle sound of voices came from inside, but Dayne pursed his lips and 
worked his face into a mask of determination. Then he grabbed the doorknob and 
shoved his shoulder hard into the door.
"Bill!" Sarah Whitley, his leading lady, shouted her line exactly on cue.
At the same time, two buff men wearing dark sunglasses came at him, but Dayne 
ignored them. He went straight to Sarah and grabbed her handcuffs, shaking them, 
looking for a way to release her hands.
"Cut!" The director shouted the word through the bullhorn. "Wait there, 
Matthews. I'm coming up."
Everyone in the room went quiet, and Dayne looked from Sarah to the actors 
playing the kidnappers. "What?" His eyes found Sarah again just as he 
remembered.
"The kidnappers," she whispered at him and made an apologetic face. "You're 
supposed to fight them off, remember?"
The director stormed into the room, his face beet red. "You're
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kingsbury smalley
dead, Matthews. These are some of the toughest criminals in
New York City and they're guarding your girl. You can't walk past them and start 
fiddling with Sarah's handcuffs; get
that?"
Dayne huffed quietly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."
"Yeah," the director barked at him and shot a look at the others. "It better not 
happen again. We're spending tens of thousands of dollars a day here, Matthews. 
You're a professional; now come on. Let's make it work."
"It won't happen again." Dayne lifted his eyes to the director.
do we take it from?"
"The top." The director spun around and marched into the hallway and down the 
stairs. He used his bullhorn to say, "Places everyone. Let's try it again."
Sarah squeezed Dayne's arm and gave him a nervous smile. "Where are you today?"
"Not here." He lifted his shoulders once, turned, and headed
down the hallway.
Cameramen followed, one of them finding his place at the far
hallway facing the stairs, the other at the opposite end corner, ready to 
capture Dayne's back as he sped past and
for the apartment door.
Dayne headed down the stairs and took his spot again. "Places, people!" The 
director's tone was still sharp, tense. The sounds around Dayne faded.
Why had the photograph looked so familiar? And what was it about 
Luke Baxter that had caught his attention? Why was he thinking about the kid a 
month after their meeting? Things like this didn't happen to him. He was a busy 
man, a person who
conversations like the one he'd had with Luke the last he was in Manhattan.
: But the memory of that time had stayed with him every day
Even now, in the midst of the most important scene of a he was being paid 
millions to film, Dayne couldn't think
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of anything else. All he wanted to do was forget the shoot and find the law 
offices of Morris and McKenzie. Maybe he'd look at the picture again and the 
feeling would go away. Maybe those people in the photo would look like any other 
couple from the sixties. Dayne clenched his teeth and forced himself into 
position.
Or maybe not.
"Ready, Matthews?"
The question snapped him to attention. "Ready," he shouted loud enough for the 
street crew to hear him.
"Okay, quiet on the set. Three... two.., one.., action!" Dayne darted up the 
stairs, fully intent on the scene now, He burst into the apartment and fought 
with the kidnappers. When they were on the ground, knocked out, he wrestled with 
Sarah's handcuffs for a few seconds. One of the men on the floor made a moaning 
sound.
Dayne grabbed Sarah's hand. "Come on." He pulled her behind him into the 
hallway.
"They'll come after us!" Sarah was perfectmher facial expression, her timing, 
all of it.
Dayne fed off her strength and doubled his effort at having the right 
expression, the right speed as they headed down the hall. At the fire escape, 
Dayne did as he was supposed to and shimmied down ahead of her, careful to help 
her since she was still handcuffed.
"You can do it; hurry." His timing was on. They would get it done this time 
around; he was sure.
They were almost at the bottom of the fire escape when the sound of bullets 
pierced the air. Dayne cast an intense look up toward the hallway. "We have to 
hurry!"
Just then in the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a familiar building. 
The building that housed Morris and McKenzie's law offices. No, Matthews, not 
now. He jumped to the ground and helped Sarah. Then he ducked her into an alcove 
and worked a bent paper clip into her handcuffs.
155 
The scene was a mixture of passion and danger, and Sarah was
playing her part perfectly. Her chest heaved as Dayne worked on
her hands, and the whole time her eyes never left his face. He
her hero, her rescuer.
The moment the handcuffs were off, Dayne dropped them,
grabbed Sarah's hand, and started running.
"Cut!" The director was closer this time, just fifteen yards
. "Am I seeing things or did Dayne Matthews just forget to
kiss the girl?"
The kiss! Dayne wanted to slip into the nearest manhole, How could he have 
forgotten the kiss? He and Sarah had run lines the before in his trailer and 
practiced the kiss for half an hour.
She was gorgeous and he could feel her falling for him. Without
doubt the kiss figured to be the best part of the scene. How could 
he have forgotten it?
"Maybe we need more practice." Sarah elbowed him and bit
lip.
He could tell she wanted to laugh, but the director didn't aplaughter
in light of mistakes. Especially during serious scenes. 
It broke the mood and robbed the shoot of the intensity
had to carry over into the film.
The two of them stepped into the alley and waited. Dayne
the sympathy from just about everyone else on the set.
The director took long strides in their direction. He looked at
and clapped his hands. "You were perfect, Sarah. Right
He nodded toward the catered food wagon. "Go get some-
to eat."
"Yes, sir." Sarah gave Dayne one more worried look, tossed
hair over her shoulder, and did as she was told.
"Matthews, what is it? What's eating at you today?"
"Nothing, sir." Dayne hated this, hated the way the director
down to him. Everyone had an off day, didn't they? He
at his watch and stifled a sigh.
"Right, go ahead and look at your watch. If you want to call it
you've got another thing coming." The director paused
156 
and his body relaxed some. "Look, Matthews, I don't know what's going on, but I 
know this. I've worked with you before and something's off." His voice came down 
a few notches. "Take two hours and meet back at the set. It'll be four o'clock 
then, and I plan to get this scene on the first run-through, okay?"
"Yes." Dayne breathed in long and slow through his nose. He found the corner of 
the familiar building and stared at it. "Can I leave the set?".
"Leave the city for all I care." The director brushed his hand through the air, 
still frustrated. "Just be back here at four o'clock, ready to shoot."
Dayne thought about finding Sarah and apologizing, but he changed his mind. He 
could do that later. He went to his trailer and pulled open a drawer of old 
clothes and hats--the things he wore when he didn't want anyone to know he was 
Dayne Matthews.
In spite of the early May sunshine, he slipped on a worn-looking gray hooded 
sweatshirt and a baseball cap. He slid the hood up over the cap, slipped on a 
pair of sunglasses, and stepped out of the trailer. Onlookers were gathered 
around the far edge of the roped-off area; he couldn't go that way. Instead he 
opened the door of the building they were using for the shoot, walked through 
it, and exited on the other side.
People milled about, wondering what was happening inside, why the streets were 
roped off. But no one recognized him as he
made a sharp right turn and headed down the sidewalk.
This Luke Baxter thing had gone far enough.
If he didn't get his head back in the game, the tabloids would catch wind of the 
situation. He could just see it: "'Dayne Matthews Falling Apart.' Sources say 
America's hottest actor may be on the ropes .... "
He worked his jaw one way and then the other. His career was everything to him. 
After his parents died, he'd gone to an audition
scheduled through the UCLA drama department, and that
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kingsbury smalley
afternoon he'd taken a call from Jerry Lituzza, one of the top talent agents in 
Hollywood.
Jerry had been at the audition, scouting talent for bigger projects. At their 
first meeting Jerry promised Dayne the moon: an ever-increasing presence in the 
industry, a fan base that would grow with each movie, bigger and bigger parts, 
and one day the top draw for a Hollywood actor.
Jerry hadn't been wrong about any of it.
Yes, there were times when Dayne ran a little wild. Hollywood was a playground 
and he was a kid who never wanted to leave. But he remembered his parents' 
values, the principles they died for, and he never let his life get too out of 
control.
No matter how many young actresses came into his life, not one of them was as 
important as his career. Without his acting, he was nothing. A lonely man with 
no parents, no siblings, no family.
He, would find Luke Baxter, prove to himself that the picture didn't look 
familiar in the least, and be on his way. He simply
couldn't afford the distraction, whatever was causing it. He kept his head low, 
his feet mov, ing at a good pace. Dressed like this, even the paparazzi wouldn't 
recognize him. He looked up, but only long enough to make sure he was headed in 
the right direction. Yes, he'd take care of this strange distraction and ben get 
back to the set, where he'd show the director and the Lmeramen and Sarah Whitley 
exactly what type of professional really was. He kept moving. After several 
minutes, he saw he was at the right place. Then ducked inside and slouched to 
the bank of elevators.
A heavyset woman was standing waiting. there, She looked
at him and then took a step closer. "Hey, aren't you Dayne Matthews?"
, quick glance around the lobby told Dayne he had nothing to worry about. She 
was the only other person in sight, and she couldn't have a camera. She looked 
nothing like a photo hound.
158 
"Yes." He gave her a quick smile, but kept his face down, the hood still up over 
his cap. "That's me."
The woman gasped out loud and did a little scream. She covered her mouth with 
her hands. "Oh... my goodness . . . the girls at the office aren't going to 
believe this." She began rooting through her purse. She found a piece of paper 
and pulled it out just as the elevator opened up. "Can I get your autograph, 
please Mr. Matthews?" She rolled her eyes, shaking as they boarded the elevator. 
"The girls won't believe this."
She handed him the paper and dug around in her purse again for a pen. As they 
rode up he gave her his autograph, grateful no one had heard her. "There you 
go." He handed the items back to her.
Before the door opened she cocked her head. "You know what always surprises me?" 
She studied his sweatshirt and hat, his worn jeans. "How raggedy you stars 
always look." She reached out and took hold of his chin. Her accent was heavy 
New York. "With a face like that? The last thing I'd do is hide it."
The woman was still talking at him, still giving her opinion of his wardrobe, 
when he stepped off the elevator. The entire floor was taken up by Morris and 
McKenzie. Dayne was relieved when the elevator doors shut and he could no longer 
hear the woman's chatter. The woman didn't get it. He wore the old hats and 
clothes to avoid people like her.
He removed his hood and hat and smiled at the receptionist. "I need to see Luke 
Baxter. Is he working today?"
The young man behind the desk was flustered but professional. He checked a board 
and shook his head. "He's already gone home for the day."
Disappointment rocked Dayne, and he glanced around the office until an idea hit 
him. "I need to leave him a note." Dayne took a few steps around the reception 
desk and pointed down the hallway. "I know where his office is. I'll just go on 
down there myself and leave the message on his desk, okay?"
proud "By all means, Mr. Matthews." The receptionist looked
159 
of himself. He had granted access to the great Dayne Matthews. "Is there 
anything I can do for you?"
Dayne stopped and thought. "Yes. Could you get me a bottle of water? I'll pick 
it up on the way out."
For reasons Dayne couldn't fathom, as he headed to Luke Baxter's office his 
heart beat hard against the inside of his chest. he doing, anyway? His director 
had called a two-hour because he couldn't concentrate through a single action 
and now he was strolling through his lawyers' offices for a clerk he'd met just 
one time.
Dayne pushed the thoughts from his head. The mission was perfectly sane. He 
needed to see the picture, needed to know if it was his imagination or if he'd 
seen something strangely familiar
Eyes were on him; eyes were always on him. Dayne didn't care. He kept a steady 
pace as he found Luke's office and stepped inside. He shut the door behind him 
and turned to the photo- His eyes found it immediately: the old picture of a 
young Luke Baxter's parents, taken the year they'd first met. that what Luke had 
said?
Dayne moved to the edge of the desk, picked up the five-by-seven photograph and 
studied it. The feelings that made their through him were the same as last time. 
A familiarity with especially. Something that defied both logic and ex- Had he 
seen her picture somewhere? met her some- when he was a kid? He stared at the 
woman, her dark and delicate features. Had she been a missionary with his
A memory came to him, distant and fuzzy. Somewhere in his he had, indeed, seen a 
picture of the woman. The very same But where.., and why?
He lowered the photo just enough to see the other pictures on pictures he hadn't 
noticed the first time. There was shot of Luke and his wife and baby, of course, 
but there was must're been his sib
160 
lings back when Luke was a teenager. His parents were at the center of the 
photo. Dayne couldn't decide which face was more
haunting. Luke's mother's...
Or Luke's.
It hit him all at once why the photos had caught his attention, why the images 
had stayed with him since the last time he was in Manhattan.. Luke Baxter was 
the mirror image of Dayne, a younger version whose teenage photograph looked 
exactly the way he himself had looked as a boy at boarding school in the mission 
field.
No wonder the woman looked familiar. Her face was Luke's face.
And Luke's face was his own.
The resemblance was strange, really. Far beyond the general way that people 
might look alike. Dayne lowered himself into the chair, the same one he'd sat in 
the last time he was in this office. Where had he put the box of pictures his 
parents left him? That whole awful summer was still a blur, even seventeen years 
later.
One day he'd been in algebra class, watching the minutes tick
by at his boarding school in Southeast Asia, and the next he'd been in the 
headmaster's office, hearing the news about his parents: Bad weather over the 
jungle, engine failure, no sign of the plane. Wreckage found, but no survivors.
His parents had never spent enough time with him, preferring the mission field 
over being with him. But they loved him. They definitely loved him. And when 
they died, whole years of Dayne's life seemed to die along with them. Memories 
of the months and years after their deaths were almost dreamlike, with little 
substance or framework to remember them by.
He'd been given several boxes of their belongings; he remembered that much. 
Material goods were never something his parents cared much for, but still they'd 
kept the boxes in a storage unit. Important papers, keepsakes, and photographs. 
An official
from the missions board had put his name on the storage unit.
161 
The cost came out of his savings account automatically every month, and 
occasionally he remembered the things that were locked away.
It still felt like yesterday, the news about the crash, the reality that he was 
alone in the world. He'd gotten accepted to UCLA on a hardship vote, and 
immediately he'd fallen into drama. Dayne loved it because onstage he could 
express the emotions he kept bottled up; he could be angry and sad and 
passionate, and all anyone ever did was clap for him.
One thing led to the next and in no time he was busy making movies. The storage 
unit full of his parents' things was safe; it would be there if he ever needed a 
reminder of them. But never
had he simply taken the time to go through it all.
Until now.
Now he wanted to sort through every last picture until he found the one he was 
thinking of. It was a picture of a woman by herself; Dayne was almost certain. 
He was maybe six or seven the last time he saw it, and the memory of it had all 
but faded from his mind. But something about the picture had been important to 
him. Even back then.
Maybe the woman had been related to his parents. The resemblance was certainly 
strong enough.
Dayne looked at the clOck on Luke's desk and shot to his feet. He had thirty 
minutes to be back on the set, ready to film. He set the photograph back on 
Luke's desk. There. He'd satisfied his interest; he could put the image out of 
his mind now. At least until
he found time to visit the old unit and find the he
to storage
picture
he was sure would be there.
Eel,. He was almost ready to turn around when he did something
˘d never done before. Glancing once over his shoulder, he took the picture of 
Luke's parents and slid it beneath his jacket. Then he rearranged the photos on 
the desk so the empty spot
wasn't 
so obvious, and he quickly left the room.
the
The photo frame jabbed into ribs, but he pressed his arm hi,s
l 
en harder against it. One day he d bring it back, after he had a
162 
chance to compare it to whatever lay in storage. Luke would
never know it was gone, or if he did, he'd figurehe must've misplaced it. No one 
would ever suspect that Dayne Matthews "borrowed" it for a while.
On his way out, the receptionist called after him. "Wait..." Dayne's heart raced 
faster than before. He'd been caught! They probably had cameras in every office. 
He stopped, swallowed hard, and turned around. "Yes?"
"You forgot your water." The man held up a small bottle and smiled.
"Oh." Dayne willed himself to look at ease. Happy and relaxed. "Thanks anyway. I 
have to get back to the set."
163 
L1 N O'CLOCK EACH MORNING was the worst and the hour of the day for John Baxter.
Worst because that was when he took a break from his pa- and met Elizabeth in 
the chemotherapy lab. Watching the nnect her from the empty bag of poison 
hanging head was like somehow being a party to her torture.
But once he wheeled her out of the unit and down the corri- away from the 
hospital and out to their car, the hour be- almost magical. The nausea was 
different for. every cancer , and with Elizabeth it didn't hit her right away. 
Her sick:hours would come later in the afternoon.
from eleven to noon, she would hold his hand and believe with him that 
everything was going to work out. It was the she would share her heart with him, 
the hour when him her fears and dreams and deepest desires about the long they 
had together.
it it was Monday, the middle of May now, the last week of treatment, and when 
John arrived at the chemo lab he was ' what he saw. She'd gotten worse over the 
weeksmany 
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one could see that. Dr. Steinman had called him a few weeks earlier and hinted 
that he was afraid the new round of tests weren't going to be good.
Still, not until that moment did John see Elizabeth for what she had become. 
Whereas for most of her weeks of treatment she had sat in a chair and read a 
magazine, now she was stretched out on a table. Her frame was painfully thin, 
and when she recognized him standing there, she barely had the strength to 
smile.
The tech showed up, his voice pleasant. "Looks like we're all done for another 
day, Mrs. Baxter."
Elizabeth had a Pic-Line in her arm, a permanent opening to her vein. That way 
the technician didn't have to" start a fresh intravenous line every time he 
transferred a bag of the toxic yellowish substance into her body. The tech 
unhooked the bag line from the tubing in her arm.
John stepped up and put his hand on her shoulder. "She... she doesn't look good. 
Did something go wrong today?"
"No. Her condition is fairly normal for someone at the end of a chemo run." A 
shadow passed Over the tech's eyes, almost as if there was something he wasn't 
saying.
Not that he could hide much from John. He didn't need a chemo tech to tell him 
his wife wasn't doing well.
When Elizabeth rolled onto her back, panic punched John in the gut. She looked 
paler than before, almost gray. He leaned over her and searched her eyes. 
"What's wrong, honey? You don't look good."
A long sigh left her lips and she looked at him a long time. "I'm fine, John." 
She ran her tongue over her lips. 'I wanna go home."
John wanted to carry her in his arms, run as fast and far away from the hospital 
and the chemo lab and the sad-faced technician as possible. Instead he brushed 
his fingers across her forehead. "Okay. I'll get the chair."
The tech offered to help transfer her from the table to the wheelchair, but John 
politely brushed him off. "I've got it." He
165 
lifted her, wincing as he felt her ribs and hipbones sticking out.
He set her into the chair and didn't say another word to her until
was in the car.
"Maybe you're hungry." He slid behind the wheel and put his
seat belt on. "Did you get breakfast this morning?"
"Yes, John." She pressed herself into the seat and stared out
the window. "I told you, I'm fine."
But she wasn't fine; she couldn't fool him. He'd seen cancer patients who looked 
like Elizabeth before. They had a name for the way she looked: end-stage. John 
waited a minute before
the car. He wasn't sure what to do, where to go. He wanted to race her back into 
the hospital and scream at some-
demand that Dr. Steinman or one of the other cancer spedo
something. How was he supposed to casually drive
: when his wife was dying right beside him?
"Go, John." She turned to him and the corners of her lips "I know what you're 
thinking. There's nothing you or else can do." She stopped, exhausted from that 
small bit
conversation. "Please, John. Take me home."
John clenched his jaw and started the car. "I can't hide any-
from you, can I?"
She managed a small laugh.
said little on the way home. John thought about calling Steinman and ordering 
the tests immediately. They had to
why she looked this way, why her color was gone and the
; were falling off like autumn leaves.
But Elizabeth wouldn't let him. He held her hand as they
the stairs, and when she stopped to catch her breath,
i swept her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. 'How chivalrous, 
John." Her smile was weaker than before.
as he laid her in bed. "You haven't carried me into
r bedroom in years." John didn't laugh. "I should've done it more often." He 
pulled
a chair next to the bed and studied her, searching
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sign--any sign--that she was turning a corner, gaining ground
on the enemy inside her.
There was none.
"When do I see Dr. Steinman again?"
"Next Wednesday. As soon as the eight weeks are finished." John's lips were 
tight, his body tense. The entire situation was so futile, and yet she was 
looking at him, waiting for him to say something positive. He reached for her 
hand. The words he dredged up were not even close to the truth. "I'm expecting 
good news; how 'bout you?"
"Definitely." She made a swallowing motion, but gave a weak shake of her head. 
"Can you hand me my water?"
John reached for her squeeze bottle, but the effort she needed just to hold it 
was more than he could stand to watch. Instead he cradled it near her mouth 
while she sucked down three mouthfuls.
"Really?" He set the bottle back on her nightstand. "You're feeling good about 
the appointment?"
"Yes." She exhaled and everything about her seemed to shrink a size. "We've been 
praying every day. Pastor Mark's been by to see me three times a week, you know. 
He says the church is praying." She gave him a lopsided smile. "Everyone we know 
is praying, John. Of course the news will be good."
"Right." John took hold of her hand again and ran his thumb along her knuckles. 
"That's how I feel, too."
The hour slipped away with more talk about the summer reunion and Ashley's 
wedding. John had long since made a reservation for three condominiums at a 
beach resort on Sanibel Island. Erin and Sam and Luke and Reagan would arrive in 
Bloomington on July third, spend a few days at the Baxter house, and the whole 
group would fly together to Sanibel on July sixth. They'd spend six days on the 
island and return home to get ready for Ashley's wedding.
"They have the band lined up, the group Landon found out
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kingsbury smalley
about through work." Elizabeth nodded toward her nightstand.
"The florist is on board also. I have all the notes in there." "That's good."
"Ashley brought the invitations by the other day." The conversation was making 
Elizabeth tired, but she kept on. "They look wonderful, John. Did she tell you 
about them? The words
fall over a faded picture of the two of them-with Cole. Did she show them to 
you?"
"No." John tapped his foot fast and steadily. He didn't want to 'talk about 
Ashley's wedding. Ashley was fine; the wedding would
be beautiful. But if Elizabeth didn't turn a corner soon,
she might not live to see them walk down the aisle.
"Only Sam has to return home for the week between th'e reunion-
and the wedding, but he'll come back that Friday night. says he wants to be here 
for the big day."
: "Mmm-hmm." He studied his wife's face, the features he'd
ent a lifetime loving. "We don't have to talk about the wedding
now, honey. How are you feeling?"
"I told you, John--" she blinked, but her expression stayed
--. I like talking about the wedding. That and how ood Kari's feeling now that 
she's past the morning sickness, and
happy Erin is with her little girl, Heidi. It makes me feel
to talk about the kids."
stopped tapping. "I'm sorry."
T." She drew in a long breath, and the effort it took both painful and obvious. 
"I can't wait to see that little baby.
is such a beautiful name. She sounds like a little angel."
slurring. She was more tired than usual. eyelids looked heavier with every 
blink. "God is so good to ,John."
'Yes." The word felt bitter on John's tongue and hechided
He had to stay positive, had to believe she'd be okay. If faith now, what would 
they have? What strength could
from? He steeled himself against the barrage of doubts. God is very good."
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Elizabeth did another weak smile and closed her eyes. They still had ten minutes 
before John had to return to work, but she was too tired to stay awake. Instead 
of rousing her, he leaned back and watched her sleep.
What had been different about this morning? Why had none of it felt real? He 
stroked his chin, replaying their conversation in his mind. Slowly it dawned on 
him. Not once had she mentioned her fears. Usually at least part of this hour 
together was spent with her looking deep into his eyes and admitting she was 
afraid, terrified actually. The chemo was her last bit of ground assault against 
cancer, her last chance to make headway in the battle for her life.
If it didn't work...
Elizabeth needed to talk about her fears. About how badly she wanted to live, so 
she could see her grandkids grow up, watch her children live out their lives now 
that they'd worked through so much. That was a large part of it.
"We've all come so far in the past three years," she'd say. "Now's when we get 
to sit back and watch them be happy. I don't want to miss that, John. Not even 
for heaven."
But today . . . today she'd said nothing at all about being afraid. She looked 
worse than he'd ever seen her look, yet all she talked about was how strongly 
she felt about her upcoming doctor's appointment, and how sure she was that 
everything was going to work out, how certain she was that their prayers were 
being heard and that God was going to answer them the way they wanted.
Elizabeth never would've worked through her fears this quickly. She needed time 
and tears and moments alone with God before she found peace in any difficult 
situation. In fact, when she was the most afraid--the way she'd felt about Luke 
when he left home, or the way she'd worried about Kari after Tim moved in with 
his girlfrienduElizabeth shut down and pretended.
The kids used to accuse her of burying her head in the sand,
169 
but that wasn't it. She simply reached a point at times where she had to act 
like she was doing well so she wouldn't go crazy with fear.
Usually, once she shut down and stopped, talking about being afraid, she met 
with God shortly after and worked through the situation. And since she hadn't 
hadthat sort of time since yesterday,
John could only surmise one possibility:
Her fears were worse than ever before.
But then, he hadn't been exactly honest either. Because watching her now, the 
slow rise and fall of her flat chest, the gray-white coloring beneath her eyes 
and across her cheeks, the angled look of her ribs sticking out, he had just one 
emotion raging through his soul.
Complete, and utter terror.
Ashley had been waiting for this moment all day.
She snuck into the house and set Cole up with a coloring book and a pack of 
markers. "Stay here, honey, okay?"
"Are you checking on Grandma?" Worry shaded Cole's expression. He 
came here often enough now that he understood grandma was sick.
"Yes." She dropped down to his level and ran her hand over his pale blond hair. 
"I have to show her something, and then after a while you can come up."
Cole's face lit up. "I'll make her a picture!" He opened the coloring
book and began flipping the pages, looking for just the scene to color. "Teacher 
says I color in the lines bestest of
"Perfect." Ashley leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. 
"I love you, Cole. You have a good heart."
He took the compliment in stride, keeping his eyes on the coloring 
book and the markers and the task at hand. "Thanks,
Mom. You too."
170 
Ashley studied him a moment longer. He was happier these days, more content. All 
he talked about was the wedding and how many more days and how glad he was that 
Landon was go ing to be his daddy. "Okay, sport, I'll see you in a few minutes." 
"Okay." Ashley grabbed the bag with her dress in it and went upstairs to her 
mother's room. The lights were off, so she peeked in. "Mom?" No answer. Concern 
toyed with Ashley. She crept inside and tiptoed to the bed. "Mom? Are you okay?" 
The window was open and a breeze stirred the curtains. The smell of rose 
blossoms filled the room. Ashley flipped the light on. It was only 
four-thirty--too early for the lights to be off. "Mom?" Her mother moaned and 
turned a few inches in each direc tion. "Hmmm?" "It's me... Ashley." She sat on 
the edge of the bed and felt her mother's forehead. "Is today worse?" No 
response. Gradually her mother opened her eyes and squinted at Ashley. "Oh, 
hello, dear. I guess I fell asleep." "Was it a hard day?" "Mmm." She made a face 
and rubbed her eyes. "It wasn't good." "Want me to leave you alone?" Ashley had 
looked forward to this moment ever since she'd accepted Landon's ring. But not 
if her mother wasn't feeling well. "No, dear." Elizabeth made a painful struggle 
to sit up against the headboard. "You sound excited." "Well..." Ashley lifted 
her eyebrows, and her voice fell to a pinched squeak. She held up the garment 
bag. "I got my wed ding dress! I haven't shown anyone yet." "Oh, Ashley." She 
struggled again, but instead of sitting up higher, she sank back down. Her face 
was ashen, damp from the effort. "Can you help me, dear?"
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kingsbury smallay
Ashley tossed the bag over the back of the nearby chair and returned to the bed. 
She pushed four pillows behind and around her. Then she slipped her hands 
beneath her mother's arms and pulled her up higher. "There. Sunset Hills was 
good for something." Ashley kept her tone light, but she was shocked. No matter 
how sick her mother got, she'd never needed help to sit up in bed. She searched 
her mother's face. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." She folded her hands on her lap and nodded at the garment bag. "Will 
you try it on for me?"
The thrill of the moment replaced her fear. Ashley nodded, grabbed 
the bag, and headed inside her parents' walk-in closet.
She had found the dress three weeks ago, and the seamstress at the shop had 
needed the extra time to narrow the waist and add a
few feet of satin to the train.
She slipped it over her head and stood in front of the full length
mirror. The entire dress was white satin, accented with
embroidery. It was fitted at the bodice, with belle sleeves that puffed slightly 
at the shoulders and then befitted
from the elbow down, Intricate appliqae ran the length of the arms and in a 
pattern along the skirt. The bottom of the dress was neither formfitting nor 
full of flounce.
it fell gently in an alluring cascade that hinted at her figure but maintained a 
sense of propriety. "Hurry, honey. I can't wait."
"Okay... just a minute." Ashley grinned at herself. Who
ever thought she'd see herself in a dress like this? The back was covered with 
more applique and a row of delicate satin
that served as buttons from the nape of her neck to her hips. Her mother would 
have to help her fasten them.
She shook out the train, opened the closet door, and presented
herself to her mother. "Ta-da!"
Her mom took in the sight, and her lips parted. The color that had
been missing from her cheeks returned in a rush, and she uttered
a quiet gasp as she covered her mouth with her hand.
.. you are absolutely gorgeous."
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Ashley felt the glow from the center of her soul. She locked eyes with her 
mother and breathed in the smell of roses and springtime. As long as she lived 
she would remember this moment, cherish the fact that her mother had been the 
first to see her in her wedding dress, that despite her poor decisions and crazy 
choices, despite the times she'd broken her mother's heart,
this glorious moment was one between just the two of them. "You like it?"
Her mother held out her hand. "You are a vision, my dear. Landon won't be able 
to say a word with you looking like that."
Ashley gave her mother's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Look at the back." She 
turned around and spread out her train. "Isn't it something?"
"Yes, dear." Outside the open window, a flock of birds settled in the old oak 
tree andbegan to sing. The sound only added to the magic of the moment. "And 
that train.., my goodness, it's breathtaking."
Ashley turned back toward her again. "I'll need help with the buttons, of 
course, but not right now. You get the idea."
"Come here." Her mother held out her hand again. "I can handle a few buttons. 
Let's see how it fits when they're all fastened."
Despite the color in her mother's face, Ashley wasn't sure. She looked too weak 
to do much of anything. Still, the glow in her eyes told Ashley she wanted to 
try. "Okay." Ashley turned the chair sideways and sat down, her back to her 
mother.
One at a time she felt the buttons come together, but when Elizabeth was halfway 
finished, Ashley felt her mother's hands drop away.
"Ah, Ash, I hate this."
Ashley spun around and saw tears in her mom's eyes. "It's okay." She stood and 
leaned closer, hugging her mom for a long time. Her tone hid the shock she was 
feeling. If Elizabeth was worn out after only a few minutes of buttons, then how 
could she be getting better? The answer shot a dart of fear through the moment.
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kingsbury smally
"I'm sorry." Elizabeth wiped at her tears. "I don't have the strength for 
anything today. I almost fell asleep in the bathroom after I threw up."
The picture made Ashley shudder. She drew back and smiled at her mother. "Don't 
worry about-the buttons; I told you we don't need to do them up today. Anyone 
would get tired with so many of them."
The door opened and Cole flew into the room. In his hand was a colored page from 
the book he'd been working in. He stopped and stared at Ashley. "Mommy!"
She grinned and did a small spin for him. "You like it?"
"Is that your wedding dress?" Cole's smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Yep." She fluffed out her train once more. "Whadya think?"
Cole came closer, circling her first one way then the other. "I think you look 
like a princess, Mommy. A fairy princess."
Elizabeth coughed afew times and then held her hand toward Cole. 
"What do you have there?"
"A picture for you, Grandma. So you'll feel better." Cole took a few steps 
toward the bed, but he kept his eyes on Ashley the whole time 
He held the colored page out. "Here. You can keep it on the wall by your bed."
Ashley watched her mother admire the picture. At almost the same 
time, she felt Cole's fingers against her back, and she
"Hey, mister, your hands are cold."
"How come it isn't buttoned, Mommy?"
"Because..." A lump formed in Ashley's throat. Cole's interuption had made her 
forget for a minute how sick her mother was. 
"Because Grandma was buttoning me up when you came but she got tired." Cole's 
face lit up. "I'll finish it. I'm a good buttoner, right?" "Yes, you're a very 
good buttoner." Ashley took Cole's hands in
hers and checked them. He'd washed them after lunch, and they
were still clean. "Okay, just go real slow, all right?"
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"All right." He stood behind her and with her mother giving a few tips, he had 
the hang of it in no time.
"I can't reach the high ones." Cole was on his tiptoes, but she could feel his 
body wavering as he struggled.
"Sorry, buddy." She bent her knees. "How's that?"
"Perfect." He worked a minute more and she felt him back up. "There you go. All 
buttoned up."
"Good work, Cole." Her mother's voice sounded happier, less defeated.
"Yes. This is just how it'll look for the wedding." Ashley paraded around the 
room in a slow procession until she was a few feet from them. "Well?"
"It looks better now, Mommy. I'm glad we did the buttons." Cole's face was 
serious. "You'd get cold if you left them open for the wedding."
Ashley bent and slipped one arm around Cole and the other around her mother. The 
coloring in her mother's face was gone again, her complexion gray and lifeless. 
Hard times lay ahead for all of them; Ashley felt it in her bones. But here, 
now, with her mother and her son gathered around her, dressed in the gown she 
would wear when she became Landon's wife, Ashley wished just one thing:
That they could keep this moment for a lifetime.
Because in the months ahead, perfect days like this one might be hard to find.
175 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kari was out shopping for dinner, making sure she had plenty of food for that 
night. Jim Flanigan, his wife, Jenny, and their children were finally coming 
over for dinner.
But instead of concentrating on the menu, Kari couldn't stop thinking about her 
mom. It was Friday of Memorial Day weekend, the last week in May. Her mother's 
first batch of chemo was finally finished. Dr. Steinman had seen her, but so far 
they didn't have the test results back.
Not that they needed test results to see how she was doing. She was wasting away 
before their eyes. Her strength--which had come back at least in part by 
now--was at its lowest since the surgery. None of it looked good, but no one 
seem to give them an answer.
She was halfway to the market when she made a right turn headed for her father's 
medical office instead. Maybe he'd heard something this morning. It was worth a 
try; besides, she I to talk to her father alone.
Ten minutes later the receptionist ushered her back to her father's office at 
the end of the hall. The woman had known
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the Baxters for years, and usually she was bright and cheerful. Not today. Her 
smile was sad, pained. She barely nodded at Kari and when she left, her voice 
was heavy. "He'll be right with you."
Kari sat in a hard-backed chair, stiff and straight. She was three months 
pregnant, starting to feel tight around her waist. Her doctor said the baby 
looked perfect, very healthy with a strong heartbeat. Kari clutched her purse to 
her waist and drummed her fingers on the soft leather. She willed him to hurry 
up, to have some kind of answer so she could stop guessing that her mother was 
doing badly.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and her father's muffled voice. He opened the 
door and stopped when he saw her expression. "Hi, Kari." ,
"Hi." She stood and hugged him. "I had to go to the store and I thought I'd stop 
by."
He nodded. "Have you been over to the house today?"
"Not yet. Ashley's there. I called and she said mom was more tired today than 
yesterday. Coughing more, too."
"Yes." John led her back to the chair, waited until she was seated, and then 
took the spot behind his desk. "I'm worried about her."
"Dad..." Kari waited until she had her father's complete attention. "Be straight 
with me, please. Why isn't she getting better?"
Her father gripped the arms of his chair, his eyes narrow, pensive. "We're still 
waiting for the results, Kari. We won't know anything until then."
"But you're a doctor, Dad." She huffed, the frustration spilling into her tone. 
"You must have an idea. Isn't she supposed to be getting better?"
For a long time John said nothing, just sat there and looked at her. His eyes 
began to shine and then tear up. He shrugged and gave a shake of his head. "It 
doesn't look good. I'm... I'm worried about her."
For the first time since hearing the news about her mother's
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kingsbury smaey
cancer, Kari realized something. This wasn't merely another bout of cancer, 
another battle on the timeline of her mother's life. It was her life. Her very 
life was at stake, which meant that if something good didn't come of the tests, 
if she didn't start showing signs of improvement, she might die:
"Dad... I'm so afraid." Kari was too choked up to talk, so her words were a 
tinny whisper. She stood and moved around the desk. Then, like she'd done since 
she was a little girl, she sat on her father's lap and looped her arms around 
his neck. "We can't lose her."
"I know." Her father stroked the back of her head, her hair, and rocked her. "We 
have to keep praying, keep believing."
"Believing for what?" She wasn't being sarcastic, just matteroffact. "I keep 
asking God to heal her, but she's worse than ever."
John closed his eyes and blinked back the wetness. "Pray for a miracle, 
sweetheart. A miracle bigger than anything God's given us before."
A series of sobs lined up in her throat, but Kari refused them. She couldn't 
cry, not now when they still had a chance for good news. She clung to her father 
a little while longer, and then stood and faced him. "Let me know when you hear 
something, okay?"
He rose and hugged her. "I will."
"In the meantime I'll pray for a miracle."
Dinner was better than Kari had expected.
After the conversation with her father, she hadn't felt like entertaining. She 
wanted to go to her mother, crawl in bed beside her, and wait for the miracle 
they were praying for. But life had a way of moving on, even when hard times 
were at hand.
Ryan found her an hour before the Flanigans arrived. "You
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don't have to do this." He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. "I 
know you're thinking about your mom."
Kari nodded. She loved Ryan, loved the way he always knew what she was thinking 
and just what to say to make her feel better. They'd known each other so long, 
he'd loved her mother almost as long as she had. She kissed him back and smiled. 
"It's okay. I want to meet Jim's family, and besides.., having something else to 
think about will be good for a change."
The Flanigans arrived at six o'clock and almost instantly, the atmosphere in the 
house changed. Kari hadn't realized how gloomy she'd been over the past few days 
until the light and love and laughter that made up the Flanigan family spilled 
through the front door.
Jessie stood close to her and Ryan, batting her eyelashes, not
sure what to make of the commotion.
Ryan welcomed them. "Hello!"
"We're here!" Jim and Jenny were first, Jenny balancing an oversized salad bowl 
in one hand and a gallon of apple juice in the other. Jim held a grocery bag 
full of what looked like potato chips. "Hi, everyone!"
They kept pouring in.
A striking girl followed Jim and Jenny, and Kari guessed her to be fourteen or 
so. She smiled sweetly at Kari and Ryan and Jessie. "I'm Bailey."
"Hi, Bailey." Kari patted the girl on the shoulder. "Come on in."
Next were a series of boys, each stopping and shaking first Ryan's hand and then 
Kari's. "Hello, ma'am; my name's Shawn." A small brown-skinned boy held out his 
hand and grinned at her. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too."
Next came Connor and BJ and Justin and Ricky.
Half of them were Haitian, half of them Jim and Jenny's biological kids. Every 
single one of them made a proper introduction. 
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Kari hoped there wouldn't be a test. She would be lucky to remember 
half their names.
Dinner was a riot.
Kari served lasagna while Ryan poured apple juice for the kids
and Jenny set about preparing plates. Two bags of rolls were ripped open, and 
Jim had them buttered at a speed that
sure set some sort of record.
"Two rolls or three?" he yelled out.
The boys lined up as if they were used to getting their food
As they filed past Jenny, they took a heaping plate of lasagna and held up two 
or three fingers for Jim, depending on how
many rolls they wanted.
Kari watched the entire process with her mouth open. She came up 
alongside Jenny and leaned close enough so she could ask her. "You do this every 
night?"
Jenny laughed. "Only if we want to eat." She handed out another
plate. "It's a circus, but we love it."
Finally, when even little Jessie was served, they sat at the table. 
Ryan had added two extra leaves for the occasion, and with addition of the 
folding chairs from the basement everyone fit
the table.
Ryan prayed over the meal. A half dozen quiet conversations began 
as soon as he was finished.
"Pass the salt, please, Shawn." "I'm gonna use it first, okay?" "Okay."
Jim took a big bite of lasagna, chewed twice, and swallowed.
love lasagna in men's town. Lasagna and beans and spam. 
Those are the best, right, guys?"
The five boys giggled.
Across the table, Kari saw Ryan stifle a chuckle. "Kari doesn't know
about men's town."
"Believe me--" Bailey rolled her eyes and grinned at Kari--"You 
don't want to know."
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"I don't?" Kari tore a roll into small pieces for Jessie. "Okay, someone give. 
What's men's town all about?" 
Connor was the oldest Flanigan boy. He put his fork down and cleared his throat. 
"Sometimes when Morn and Bailey are gone shopping or if Morn has a writers 
meeting and Bailey's at her friend's house, we have men's town." He giggled and 
looked at his brothers. "Dad makes frozen lasagna or beans and we... well..." 
Jenny raised her eyebrows at Connor. "And the dinner table takes on a 
locker-room atmosphere," she concluded. "Let's just say we need a can of air 
freshener to get back in the house." 
"I see." Kari covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She shot Ryan a 
look. "Glad we don't have men's town over here, right?" 
Ryan tried to look serious. "Right, honey. Couple town, that's US." 
"That's okay, Taylor." The men were sitting next to each other, and Jim elbowed 
Ryan. "You can join us in men's town anytime you like. Okay, boys?" 
Cheers went up around the table. 
Bailey gave a slight shake of her head. "Brothers are disgust ing." 
"Oh, yeah?" Ricky was the youngest. He was a towhead with big blue eyes like his 
mother's. "Then how come you always wanna give us yucky kisses, huh?" 
"Look out!" Bailey pretended to get up from the table. "I might come over there 
and give you one right now." 
Everyone laughed. Jim suggested they play a game. "Any sug gestions?" He looked 
from Kari to Ryan. 
Jessie took a drink from her sippy cup. It was the quietest Kari had ever seen 
her. 
"Games?" Ryan's face was blank. "A dinner game?" 
"Sure." Jim looked at his kids. "Pick one guys; we'll teach the Taylors how to 
play." 
"The alphabet game," someone shouted out. 
181 
"No, the what-am-I? game."
A round of agreements followed and Jim waved at them. They were quiet instantly. 
"Okay, the what-am-I? game it is." He looked around the table. "You all know the 
rules. You give us a bunch of clues and we have to guess what or who you are. 
Whoever guesses gets to go next."
BJ went first. "I'm thinking of something brown and flat and roughish."
Hands shot up around the table, with some of the kids so anxious
to be picked, they bounced up and down in their seats. BJ picked Justin, who 
proudly exclaimed, "You're a tree." "Nope." BJ pointed at Bailey. "You picki" "A 
picnic table?"
The boys giggled, as if only a girl might give such a lame answer. "Definitely 
not." BJ looked at Connor. "You."
"Brown and flat and roughish..." Connor scratched his forehead. 
"The roof of a house?"
'.'No, not a roof."
"Come on, BJ, give us more clues." Bailey took another bite of
lasagna. "You can't expect us to get it on that."
BJ grinned at the others. "Give up?"
A general consensus passed around the table that they had, indeed 
given up. "The answer is me!" BJ pointed proudly at him-
"That's my brother over there." Bailey pointed her thumb at
"Captain Obvious. Brown? Flat? Roughish? Of course it's
How could we have missed it?"
laughter and loud moans went up around the room, and rubbed his knuckles on BJ's 
head. "Brown and flat and
Come on, BJ, you forgot to mention the stinky-socks
'Dad..." BJ was still laughing. "I'm brown and flat." He pat- the top of his 
head. "And when I forget lotion, my elbows
knees are roughish."
course." Jim smacked himself on the forehead. He looked
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at Ryan and shrugged. "Now you know how to play the whatamI? game."
The joy and laughter continued until the meal was over and Jim excused the kids. 
Each of them cleared his or her own plate and thanked Kari for the dinner. 
Bailey held out her hands to Jessie, who grinned and went along without a 
complaint.
When they were gone, Kari stared at Jenny, awed. "That was absolutely amazing." 
She looked to Jim and back at his wife. "I've seen polite kids and I've seen 
silly kids, but I've never seen both. Your kids are wonderful."
Ryan leaned back and crossed his arms. A smile had hung on
his face for the past ten minutes. "I told you they were great." "How in the 
world does it work so well?"
"What? The numbers?" Jenny pushed herself back from the table and crossed her 
legs. She chuckled and reached across the table for Jim's hand. "I know it looks 
crazy, but we have a good time."
"The numbers, the manners, the laughter, the adoption.., all of it. I've never 
seen a family like yours."
"The adoption was easy." Jenny winked at her husband. "Well, not completely 
easy."
"It was three months of adjusting, because the boys spoke Creole. But after 
that, it was great." Jim shrugged. "I feel like we've always had them."
Kari was dying to know more. "What led you to look at Haiti to adopt?".
"We didn't start there.' Jenny took a sip of water. "We wanted to adopt 
domestically, but we had young kids in the house."
Jim nodded. "It's sad, really. So many of the kids you can adopt in the U.S. are 
physically abused in a number of ways. Our social worker told us it wouldn't be 
safe to bring them home until our biological kids were older."
"Then someone told us about this orphanage in Haiti. We went online, checked it 
out, and sent away for the video."
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ngsbury smalley
Kari slid closer to Ryan and took his hand in hers. Their story was fascinating.
Jim picked up where Jenny left off. "The video came and we waited until the kids 
were in bed to watch it. There were all these kids, laughing and singing and 
hugging each other. It looked like our family." He flashed a crooked grin. 
"Well, sort of."
"We didn't say a word through the whole video, and when it
was over Jim turns to me and says, 'Looks like we need a bigger house.'"
"Hmmm." Ryan leaned closer to Kari. "Amazing. Weren't you worried about the 
culture differences? What if they got here and 'felt too strange to ever 
adjust?"
"We could tell from the video that everything would work out." Jim looped his 
arm around Jenny's shoulders. "Besides, when we
prayed about it we got the same feeling. Those kids would be different, for 
sure. Different color, different country, different culture, But we would all 
have the same Christ. In the that's all that's ever mattered."
They went on to talk about the adjustment period.
"The worst day was when I took them in for shots." Jenny let her
head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. "I wasn't
sure any of us would survive."
"What happened?" Kari could already feel herself beginning to laugh.
Jenny looked at her. "I get the bright idea that they should all
get shots at once. Our own youngest, Ricky, isn't in school so he can come with 
me. Just to help keep them occupied
it isn't their turn." chuckled, apparently remembering the recap of the day, 
picked up the story. "They get in the car and Ricky starts to sad. 'Mommy, are 
they going to get shots today? Why,
?' That sort of thing." He laughed again. "So here's these boys who don't speak 
a word of English, but they know
their brother. They start patting Ricky on the arm and
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comforting him, because for some reason, Ricky's not happy like before."
"They had no idea what was happening even after we got into the doctor's 
office." Jenny shook her head. "They were so excited, pointing at the artwork on 
the walls and the floating model airplanes in the doctor's office."
"Right up until the nurse walked in with a tray of needles." "In the blink of an 
eye it became the craziest scene you could ever imagine. Shawn started screaming 
in Creole, 'Y Bondye, Y Bondye?' which means 'Why, God, why?'"
The story got funnier the longer it went on. By the time the shots were given, 
all three boys--each between the ages of five and six at the time--were sobbing 
and holding their arms and straggling in a show of angry defiance. Ricky was 
crying, too, out of pity for his new brothers.
"People were staring at me like, 'Come on, lady, can't you control your day-care 
kids?'"
Kari laughed out loud. She could've sat there all night listening to stories, 
but the mood changed when Ryan asked Jim about Cody Coleman, one of the football 
players on Ryan's team.
"Is he living with you?" Kari leaned her head on her husband's shoulder but 
directed her question at Jim and Jenny.
"He never was, really." Jim's eyes grew softer, and Kari could see a pain there 
that defied the silly side of the man she'd seen earlier. "He slept on our couch 
for a few nights, but then he went back home and we haven't seen him since."
Kari was struck by the sorrow in both Jim's and Jenny's eyes. Almost as if they 
cared as much for Cody as they did for their own kids.
Jenny caught her attention. "He dropped out of the passing league at school; we 
think he's drinking again."
"I hate that." Ryan pursed his lips and gave a hard shake of his head. "The 
kid's got so much talent, so much inside him."
"He needs the Lord; but I think right now God scares him.
185 
Jim exhaled hard. "As if he knows God's chasing him, and he's determined to run 
until he hits a brick wall."
"Exactly." Ryan leaned back and stretched his legs. "Anything we can do?"
"Pray for him. Pray he'll trust us enough to come back and listen."
The conversation shifted again, this time tO the twenty-sevenB-yearold woman who 
had moved into their house a few months
back. "Her name'sJamie Hart." Jenny smiled. "Isn't that pretty?"
Kari nodded. "She's here to start a Christian theater? for kids?"
"Actually, she's already got it up and running. Sixty kids audit-
ioned for the first play--Charlie Brown. The show will be sometime in July."
Feat." Kari thought about Jessie, how dramatic she alT was. "Kids need something 
like that."
Our kids sure do." Jim gave his wife an easy smile. "The four boys are sports 
crazy, but not Connor." he could walk he's wanted to be on Broadway, singing
and entertaining an audience." Jenny looked over
The kids were watching a movie in the next room,
continued. "He's wanted to be part of a theater group for:but many of the 
options are downright frightening. The
Kids Theater puts on three plays a year, and Connor's
to be in every play until he's too old to try out." the fun thing is that 
Bailey's interested, too. She sees
Connor's having, and she's already decided to try next play."
!:thought about Jamie Hart. "How'd she wind up living
she got here, the folks at our church who the theater group were asking for 
someone to room. Back then we were too caught up in getting set- didn't even 
know she was coming out." Jim paused. doesn't pay much, if anything, and she 
didn't
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know a soul in Bloomington. We have an apartment over the ga rage, so as soon as 
we realized she needed a place, we volun teered." 
"She's a delightful young woman, beautiful and great with kids," Jenny added. 
"Quirky enough to make the commitment fun for everyone." 
"No guy in the picture, huh?" Kari always imagined a love story when she heard 
about someone single doing something crazy like moving to Bloomington to start a 
children's theater. 
"No guy." Jenny gave a few slow nods of her head. "She left something behind in 
Chicago. I'm sure of that. But so far she hasn't shared whatever it was." 
Connor came running into the room, his eyes bright. "Guess what? They have 
Fiddler on the Roof; isn't that great?" He looked at Kari. "That's one of the 
greatest musicals ever." 
"See--" Jim motioned to his oldest son and grinned--"I told you." 
They talked a while longer, but then it was time to go. Jim made the 
announcement and without a single complaint, the kids slipped their shoes back 
on and thanked Kari and Ryan for having them over. 
"Let's do this again," Jenny said, hugging Kari as she left. "Next time you come 
to our house." 
Kari smiled. "Absolutely. I can't wait to see where all these kids sleep." 
The couples said good-bye to each other. After the Flanigan family was gone, 
Kari put Jessie to bed and found Ryan in their bedroom. "They were just like you 
said. What a great family." 
"They have their struggles. Yesterday the athletic director told Jim he can't 
pray with players anymore if he wants to keep coaching at Bloomington High." 
"You're kidding?" This was the first Kari had heard of the situ ation. "No, but 
neither of us is worried. As long as the kids lead the 
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ki n gsb u r y s m alley
prayers, no athletic director can stop us. Besides..." Ryan made a funny face 
and pointed to the wall where his NFL paques hung.
"Yes, you're right." Kari laughed. "He could hardly get rid of two former NFL 
players. The community would have a fit."
"Yeah, Jim's a great guy. I knew you'd love his family." Ryan came up to her and 
pulled her into his arms. He searched her eyes and she felt the familiar tickle 
in her stomach, the feeling he had given her since she was twelve years old and 
met him at a backyard barbecue.
She kissed him and drew back, enjoying the closeness. "Now I
know what you mean."
"About what?"
"When you picture us down the road, you picture us like
"Mmm." His lips found hers. "Exactly."
"They're sort of like we were, us Baxters, growing up."
Ryan thought about that. "They are, aren't they?" He nuzzled
face against hers. "No wonder I like them so much."
It wasn't until an hour later, when they were both falling asleep
that Kari realized just how wonderful the evening had been. Not only because 
she'd had a chance to meet the Flanigan
to witness their loving children and hear some of their
stories, but also because for an entire evening she didn't to worry about the 
one thing that stayed with her night and
or not her mother was getting better.
188 
189 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erin had found a substitute teacher to take over the rest of the school year for 
her. Now that she had a baby, a daughter, the last thing she wanted was to place 
her in day care. Her principal wanted to know whether she'd be back in the fall, 
and the answer was an easy one
"I've wanted to be a Mommy ever since I got married," she told the woman. "Next 
time you see me looking for work, my hair will be a lovely shade of gray."
Being a mother to Heidi Jo was a greater experience than Erin had ever imagined. 
Heidi was a happy baby with olive skin and eyes that were already turning green. 
Erin had settled into a routine, one that included hours of feeding Heidi, 
changing her, and standing over her crib while she slept. Twice a week she put 
Heidi in a stroller and walked her through the neighborhood
But most of all, Erin loved sitting with Heidi in the old Baxter
chair and singing to her. The way her mother had said she used to sing to each 
of them.
Often, when Heidi fell asleep, Erin would call her mother and
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marvel over the amazing feelings her tiny daughter evoked in her. "It's like 
this is what I was created to do," she told her mother this afternoon, the first 
Monday in June. "Did you ever feel that way?"
"Always." Her mother paused. "Every time I brought a baby home from the hospital 
I felt that this was the reason God had given me life. So I could- raise my 
babies and give my family a life they would always remember, a life that would 
teach them to do the same thing for the people they loved one day."
The answer seemed to sap the energy from her mother, and Erin wondered, as she 
had often in the past week, how well she was really doing. "Did you get your 
test results?"
"No." Her answer came quickly. "We should hear any day." "But how do you feel- 
Mom? Isn't that the real test?"
The silence at the other en made Erin stop rocking. She wasn't sure, but it 
sounded like her mother was crying. Not loud sobs, but a soft kind of tired 
whimpering that would've been easy to miss over the phone lines.
"Mom?" Heidi was asleep, so she held the phone between her shoulder and 
cheekbone, and - laid her daughter down in her crib. She waited until she was 
out of the nursery to ask the next question. "Are you okay?"
Her mother made a few light sniffs. "I'm okay." She sighed and it sounded almost 
like a sob. "I hate feeling tired all the time. I never got my energy back and 
Dr. Steinman is worried. Everyone's worried."
Erin hated this, being so far away and not having the chance to look at her 
mother, to see for herself how bad off she was. She'd asked her sisters and 
always the answer was the same: "Mom's battling it, Erin. She's fighting back. 
She's praying for a miracle." But unless Erin could- see for herself, she'd 
never know for sure.
She stared out the window at the storm clouds gathering in the distance. "Should 
I come home Mom? Is that what you're saying?"
"No, dear." The sorrow shifted just a bit, and Elizabeth ut 
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kingsbu ry smalley
tered a sad laugh. "Don't get on a plane. You'll be coming in four weeks. Better 
to wait until that angel of yours is a little older, anyway."
"But what about you?"
"I'm fine. It's probably just my age. Anyone would have a hard time coming back 
after eight weeks of chemo, but at fifty-four it's bound to be tougher."
"Fifty-four is young, Mom. Especially for you." Erin hesitated. "Is your hair 
growing back?"
"Actually, it is." Her mother laughed again, and this time her tone sounded 
lighter.. "I look like a porcupine, pokey pieces of dark hair sticking straight 
out from my bald head."
Erin didn't smile. She couldn't stand the thought of her mother looking anything 
but beautiful. "At least it's growing back."
"Yes. Now, dear, go get some rest. You know the adage..." "'When the baby 
sleeps, you sleep.'" Erin relaxed some. "Right. That was especially true for 
you, Miss Erin. I swear you didn't sleep more than two hours at a time until you 
were a year old."
"Heidi's a lot better than that. She gives us six-hour stretches every night, 
but you're right. I'll go lie down for a while; Sam won't be home for another 
few hours."
"Okay. Call me tomorrow if you get a chance." "Mom..." "Yes."
"I love you." A sudden rush of emotions made it hard for Erin to speak. "These 
past few months, before Heidi and especially now, I feel closer to you than 
ever. I just... I want you to know how much these talks mean to me."
Her mother didn't respond, and Erin understood why. Neither
of them knew how many of these talks they had left. Finally : her mother coughed 
several times and in a small voice racked
with emotion, she said, "Thank you, Erin. I love you too."
Erin hung up and drifted down the hallway to their bedroom.
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Things were so good here at home. Not just with Heidi and the light she'd 
brought into their lives. But with her and Sam and their faith and everything 
about their new lives together. Only two black marks smudged the perfect 
picture, and as Erin lay down she determined to pray about both of them.
First for her mother, that God would give them the miracle they needed and let 
the test results be hopeful. And second, as she had every day since the awful 
call from the social worker, she prayed for Candy and her baby.
A little girl Erin still thought of as Amy Elizabeth.
The screaming was incessant.
Ever since she'd brought the kid home, all she'd done was scream, the same way 
she was screaming now. Candy went to the cupboard, found a cracked bottle and a 
nipple that looked clean enough. Then she mixed up four ounces of formula and 
shoved the bottle in the microwave. Fifteen seconds--that oughta be long enough 
to heat it up.
She pulled it out, shook it up, and then noticed something she hadn't seen 
before: a perfectly good joint sitting on the edge of the ashtray at the center 
of the coffee table. How great was this? She hadn't gotten high in three days, 
mostly because money was tight. But people must've come by last night, because 
sure enough, someone had left a marijuana cigarette just lying there.
Candy set the bottle down and looked across the room at the dresser drawer in 
the corner that was doubling as a crib. "Just a minute, crybaby. I'll get ya... 
I'll get ya."
She took the roach, lit the end with a lighter sitting nearby, and inhaled until 
her lungs wouldn't hold another bit. The longer the hold, the better the high, 
so Candy held in the smoke until she was about to pass out. Slowly she exhaled, 
and already she could feel the buzz, feel the way it clouded every bad thing 
about her life.
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kingsbury smalley
The screaming wasn't as loud now, but it was still going on. Candy looked around 
the room. Where had she put the bottle? In the refrigerator? She stood and 
walked around the apartment until her trail led her back to the still-smoking 
joint. She pinched it between her fingers, held it to her lips, and lit the end 
again. This time she sucked in even more of the SWeet, pungent smoke.
The feeling was working its way through her body, numbing her, lulling her into 
a rhythm that would take her away from the rotten apartment and empty 
refrigerator, to a place where she couldn't care less if the kid was screaming.
Candy put the roach down and looked across the room again. The kid. She'd almost 
forgotten. Her eyes made a lazy circle i around the room and there, a few feet 
from her on the very same coffee table, was the bottle. It was probably cold by 
now, but so what? At least the kid wouldn't be hungry.
She took the bottle, crossed the room, and finally exhaled the smoke. 
It seemed to settle over the dresser drawer, Where her baby
was still screaming.
"Whadya want, kid?" Candy swept the baby up and into herarms. 
"You've got a nice bed, warm blankets." She pressed the bottle against the 
baby's lower lip and right away She began sucking. 
"Hmmm." The buzz was growing stronger. "Didn't I feed you this morning?"
The baby sucked at the bottle with all her might, so urgent
a rate that the sight of her made Candy laugh. Or maybe
the pot was making her laugh. Either way she was glad the kid stopped screaming. 
Candy 
laid her on the sofa and used a worn-out pillow to prop little. The joint wasn't 
half gone, and Candy wanted to finish it. Better to get a good solid buzz than 
drag it out over a
hours.
took drag after drag, and suddenly she realized the baby
"What is it now?" Her words were slurred and was no longer steady. She turned 
and saw what was
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wrong. The bottle was on the floor, empty, and the baby had worked the old 
pillow up over her face.
Candy laughed. "Still hungry, huh?" She moved the pillow, picked up the baby, 
and put her over her shoulder. "You and me both, kid."
She grabbed the bottle and walked the baby into the kitchen. The buzz was 
intense now, one of the better highs she'd had that month. But still she was 
able to mix up another four ounces of formula. She stared at the microwave and 
tried to remember.
Fifteen seconds? Or was it twenty-five?
The kid was screaming again.
Candy lowered her to the crook of her arm. It must've been twenty-five. The baby 
liked her milk warm. She heated the formula, headed back to the sofa, and put 
the bottle to the kid's lips. As soon as the formula touched her mouth, she 
jerked back and screamed even louder than before.
"Okay, so I was wrong." Candy chuckled and shook the bottle for a minute or so 
to cool it down.
This time the baby made only a few faces and uncomfortable squirms, but she took 
the milk. Candy grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and put the baby back on 
the couch, the bottle propped by the pillow again..She almost finished the 
bottle when she started fussing and arching her back.
The moment Candy picked her up, a stream of vomit came from the baby and 
splashed across Candy's shirt. Candy swore out loud and set the baby back on the 
couch. "Now look what you've done, ya brat."
She left the baby and went to the closet to find a clean shirt. While she was 
cleaning herself up, she heard the baby making sick sounds again. "Hold on," she 
shouted. "And don't get any on the couch!"
The weed was still working its magic on her, but who could enjoy a good buzz 
with a fussy baby? Candy mumbled a few more choice words and headed back to find 
her.
She was lying on her back, a pool of vomit gathered around
195 
her lips and chin. A gurgling sound came from her throat, and suddenly fear 
knocked the wind out of Candy. "Hey!" She grabbed her and smacked her back.
After a few seconds, the baby did several loud coughs. Once she was breathing 
right, the screaming started up again.
Candy took off the kid's damp undershirt and used it to Wipe her chin and neck. 
She shouted over the child's screams. "Bed. time for you; little girl." Then she 
marched her across the room to her bed in the dresser drawer.
Candy couldn't possibly have been more frustrated. Every. thing about her 
situation was Dave's fault. Dave's and Scary's. But still, here she was, with a 
month before her oldest two kids would be dumped at her front door and a newborn 
screaming in the corner.
It was enough to make her crazy.
Things had gone from bad to worse so fast Candy wasn't SUre what to do. Her 
mother had taken the older girls, but she'd made things clear to Candy. They 
could stay with her only for a month. After that she was joining some Christian 
cruise line, where she would work in the kitchen and travel the Bahamas for the 
better part of a year.
"I love those girls, Candy, but they deserve a real family," her mother had said 
the last time they were together. "Get yourself a life, Candy. Clean up and make 
a home for those babies. Other.
wise do the right thing and give them to someone who will." Candy hated her 
mother's lectures.
They were her kids; she could do whatever she wanted with them. The thought 
rolled around in the stoned areas of her mind. Of course, she couldn't really do 
whatever she wanted with them. She couldn't sell them, that's for sure.
What had they been thinking, anyway? You couldn't black. mail people into giving 
you money for a kid. The plan had been doomed from the beginning. For a while 
there, it looked like she and Dave and Scary were all going down. They'd sat in 
jail almost two days before the judge made up his mind.
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Dave had pinned the whole scam on Scary, and Scary, well, he pinned the whole 
thing on Dave. Candy gave the judge a teary- eyed song and dance about wanting 
the best life for her baby and about how Dave and Scary had convinced her they 
could find a better home for the child if they asked for more money.
The judge looked like he wasn't sure about her, but being that she was eight 
months pregnant, he told her to go home and take care of herself until the baby 
was born. He left her with a warning:
"If I see you in court again or hear you're putting your baby
in jeopardy in any way, I'll take her away from you and prosecute you to the 
fullest extent of the law."
The judge's warning played in her head again, swirling about and climbing the 
walls of her brain the way thoughts sometimes did when she was high. He was all 
talk; he wouldn't take her kid away.
Though he'd been pretty serious about Dave and Scary. They were still in the 
slammer facing trial later that month. Whatever happened, they better get out 
soon. Without them, she had no
idea how she'd get the drugs she needed.
Candy put her hands over her ears.
The screaming lessened, but it still gave her a headache. What she needed was 
more weed, something to pass the time until the kid got old enough to farm out. 
If her mother wouldn't take the girls, someone would. She could get connected 
with that church her mother was always going to. Someone there would watch the 
girls---at least during the daytime. There were always nice old grandma-types at 
churches, right?
An idea started to grow in Candy's brain.
A grandma-type lived right next door. Maybe if she took the kid there now, the 
old lady would take care of her for a while. Until she could figure out what to 
do next. She stood up, swayed a few times, and made it across the apartment to 
the bathroom. Her vision was blurred a bit, but she squinted and got a decent 
look at herself.
She was heavy and her T-shirt and jeans didn't fit great. Also,
197 
ki n g sbur y sin alley
her skin still smelled of baby puke. But she didn't look like a pothead. Not 
really. Potheads had narrow, bloodshot eyes, and hers looked pretty normal. It 
was important that she not look like a pothead if she was going to ask the 
neighbor for help. She would have to make up some sort of story, something about 
needing a job and trying to make a life for herself and her kid.
Now that Candy knew what she was going to do, a sense of freedom and purpose 
came over her. She held herself a bit straighter as she went back to the dresser 
drawer, picked up the baby and a half-empty pack of disposable diapers, and 
knocked on the neighbor's door.
The old woman answered after the second knock. She stared at Candy and the baby. 
"Yes?"
"Hi. I'm Candy." Her words sounded right to her, but Candy wasn't sure if the 
old lady would think so. Words would have to be at a minimum. She pointed to her 
right. "I live next door and
. well... I need to get out and find some work." She smiled. Grandma's liked it 
if you smiled. "Trouble is, I can't bring my little baby, and I was wonderin' if 
you'd watch her for me for a while."
The woman was wearing a necklace with a cross on it. Just like Candy had hoped, 
a churchgoing lady. How could she say no. 
Candy tilted her arms so the woman could get a good view of her kid. She was a 
screamer, but she was also a looker. Everyone who had seen her said so.
"She's a beautiful baby." The grandma-type brushed her knuckle against the 
baby's cheek. "What's her name?" "Her name?" A chill ran down Candy's spine. 
What had she called the kid? She'd written something down in the hospital, with 
a C in it. But now.., now she hadn't used it in a few weeks and she wasn't sure. 
She smiled at the old lady. Clara. Her name's Clara."
She looked at the woman and held out her
Nancy."
baby
again
rms. "Here, let me have her."
Candy turned the baby over to her neighbor and started back
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ing away but Nancy stopped her. "How long? Two hours? Three?"
"Yes." Another step backward. "Thanks. I'll get so much more done now."
The minute Candy was back in her apartment she flopped
down on the couch and savored the sound.
Silence. Pure, wonderful silence.
Another plan began to form and she sat up to think it through. An hour later she 
had her things packed into a duffel bag. She walked to the closest bus stop and 
climbed into the first bus that came by. The buses were easy in Austin, and 
after she got to the main station, she'd bum a ride to Dallas. One of Dave's 
friends was there, some guy who dealt for a living. Lots of space, lots of 
drugs, lots of free time.
She pictured the old grandma trying to find a way to keep the kid quiet. Two or 
three hours? Candy laughed to herself. The woman wouldn't see her for two or 
three days. Maybe longer. And by then Clara--if that was her name--would've 
gotten over the stomach bug or whatever was making her cry. If so, Candy would 
consider taking her back.
Welfare paid better the more mouths you had to feed.
199 
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The scene was eerily similar to the one back in March,
when Elizabeth and John first found out about her cancer. But this time, the 
stakes were higher. Elizabeth was exhausted, with barely the strength to sit in 
the chair. John. "Why do we have to be here?" She leaned her on his shoulder. 
"Can't he just call us with the results?"
"It's easier this way." John eased his arm around her shoulder. His tone told 
her there were things he wasn't saying. "We talk about a recovery strategy 
better in person, with all of us
"I wish he'd hurry."
John kissed the side of her face. "Me too."
The worst part about fighting cancer was the waiting. Eight
then two weeks of waiting. A day of testing, ten days before the results came. 
She was thin and tired and
all the time, and the cough that had come on a week ago worse than ever.
they were praying for a miracle, and the test results were
way they'd know if one was being worked in her body
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or not. Elizabeth hated herself for doubting, for fearing whatever tomorrow 
might bring. But the longer she felt sick and the worse her symptoms grew, the 
more terrified she became.
Certainly God knew that. He had to know that she wanted to be planning a reunion 
and a wedding, not a recovery. And since the answers she and John were praying 
for weren't coming easily, Elizabeth was more afraid than ever. So afraid that 
she'd slipped into a denial, a way of telling everyone she was feeling
fine, that everything was going to be okay.
But she wasn't fooling anyone.
A door opened behind the big wooden desk. Dr. Steinman entered with a folder 
under his arm. A strange sense of dej vu came over Elizabeth, and she glanced at 
the door behind her, the one that led to the hallway and the outside world. If 
she could only get up and run out the door, tear down the hall and never stop, 
maybe she could keep this moment from happening.
"Elizabeth... John." Dr. Steinman took his place at the desk and laid open the 
file.
She gave a last look at the door and turned to face the doctor. John tightened 
the grip on her hand.
"I'll get right to the point." He sighed and held up a single sheet from the 
file. "I'm afraid the results aren't what we were hoping for."
Not what they were hoping for? Panic shot a burst of adrenaline through 
Elizabeth's system, and she leaned forward. Breathe, she told herself. Just 
breathe. Beside her, a moan sounded deep in John's chest, but he said nothing.
Dr Steinman shook his head. His eyes met hers and held. "Elizabeth, your cancer 
has spread. We did a biopsy of your lymph nodes, as you know, and every test 
came back positive for cancer."
"No . . ." She said the word so softly no one heard her, not even John. The 
scene kept playing out before her, the doctor's words coming at her like so many 
bullets. She closed her eyes, desperate for a way to outrun the news, to stop 
the doctor's pro
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kingsbury smalley
nouncement before it got worse. No, God... no! Why is this happening?
"Elizabeth?" The doctor sounded tired, as if the blow he was
delivering was aging him several years in as many minutes. She opened her eyes. 
"Go ahead."
Beside her, John was staring at his. lap, his eyes vacant.
The doctor sighed. "On top of that, we compared the ultrasound and X rays we did 
the Monday after your treatment ended with an ultrasound and X rays we did 
yesterday." He set the first piece of paper down and picked up another. "We knew 
after the surgery that your cancer was in your lymph system. With this type of 
aggressive cancer, the lymph system often deposits cancer cells throughout the 
body. It appears that's what has happened in your case, Elizabeth. The cancer 
has spread to your lungs and possibly to your liver and pancreas as well." He 
pursed his lips and met her eyes again. "The CAT scan looked clean, so that much 
is good news. So far the cancer hasn't spread to your brain."
Good news? Elizabeth wanted to throw something at him, pound her fists on the 
wall, and break something on the floor. The cancer hadn't spread to her brain? 
That was the good news? She sucked in'a quick breath and then another. The panic 
swelled within her, suffocating her. Another inhale and another.
"Elizabeth, breathe out, honey." John had his hand on her shoulder. He gently 
pushed her head down, the way she'd seen him
do for the kids before. "It's okay, Elizabeth, breathe out.
on my hand."
She pursed her lips and tried, but only a whisper of breath came
out.
Dr. Steinman was on the other side of her now, pressing a cool cloth to her 
forehead. She was hyperventilating, letting panic
its way with her. She sucked in another breath, and then,
her pounding heart, above the sound of Dr. Steinman's
above the panic screaming at her from all sides, she heard only sound that could 
possibly restore her sanity.
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The sound of her husband praying. 
"Dear God .... " His words were hushed, meant for her ears and God's alone. 
"Please... give Elizabeth your peace, a peace that passes all understanding. Let 
her remember that you are a God of miracles, that you haven't ever stopped 
loving her and that you have a plan, even now." 
John's words wrapped themselves around her like a shield, a cocoon. One breath 
at a time she could feel a change coming over her. The muscles that had refused 
to exhale only a moment earlier could now do so. Breathe out, she told herself. 
Out... out . . ollt... 
"How're you doing, Elizabeth?" Dr. Steinman had returned to his place at the 
desk. 
How was she doing? Didn't he realize how ludicrous he sounded? Hadn't he just 
answered the question himself? She wasn't doing very well. She was dying, in 
fact, right? Wasn't that what he had told her? She lifted her head and looked at 
him. Why was she mad at him? It wasn't his fault. She felt her anger melt away 
like April snow. He was simply the messenger and he was waiting for an answer. 
She gripped John's knee as she sat a little straighter. "Better, I guess." 
"Good." The doctor put the file back together. Then he looked from her to John. 
"You understand what I'm saying, right?" 
The muscles in John's jawline flexed twice. He inhaled sharply. "I assume you're 
going to give us a treatment plan?" 
Elizabeth wanted to kiss him. That was her John. You tell him, honey. Neither of 
them would ever settle for a death sentence-- not now with Ashley's wedding and 
Kari's baby and Erin's and Luke's visits on the horizon. Definitely not. 
"I... uh, well..." Dr. Steinman's face went blank and he fum bled a few seconds 
more. "Look, John, don't make this harder than it has to be." 
"I want a treatment plan." John's tone was sharp, pointed. 
203 
"We didn't come here to make funeral arrangements, so please, tell us what to do 
next. That's your job."
Dr. Steinman lifted his hands a few inches off his desk and dropped them again. 
"We could operate on her lungs, and possibly her pancreas." He opened the file 
again. "The liver isn't operable without a transplant." His eyes scanned the 
sheet. "Any surgery would mean more chemo and radiation" he looked at John 
again--"which her cancer isn't responding to, frankly."
Elizabeth glanced at John, waiting for his response. But he was quiet, tense. He 
had one hand over hers and the other clenched in a tight fist. When he spoke 
again, some of his earlier fight was gone. "We'd like a day to talk it over, if 
that's all right."
The doctor released a slow breath. Exasperation showed in his eyes, and his 
voice was filled with a quiet pleading. "Please, John. Think it through. Quality 
of life has to mean something."
John made a tighter grip on her hand and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 
When he opened them, Elizabeth met his eyes and a pain took up residence in her 
heart. No matter how confident and authoritative John sounded, he was dying 
inside, every bit as much as she was.
He spread his free hand out on the doctor's desk and leaned forward. "If we 
didn't operate..." His mouth hung open. The next question seemed to take all his 
effort. "How long would she have?"
It was the question Elizabeth hadn't wanted to address, not or ever. But there 
it was. Out on the table for the doctor to up and run with. She leaned into 
John, praying for a miraacle. Begging God for another chance, a different 
diagnosis.
"Whether we operate or not..." Dr. Steinman closed the file head. His eyes were 
damp. "Three months, John. four. Not more than that."
months? Four? The numbers swirled in Elizabeth's and she buried her face in 
John's shoulder. Panic, fear, none of them could reach her. Not when her entire 
was numbed by the figures. Sixteen weeks? At best? that all she had left?
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Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face, making the sleeve of John's 
shirt wet. She wasn't crying, not really. She was too numb to cry or feel or 
react. Rather her body was grieving all on its own, the tears leaking from her 
eyes without any weeping
or sobbing or emotions.
Sixteen weeks?
John was saying something, going on about taking a day to decide and not giving 
up, about wanting the best for Elizabeth, and how they were willing to fight the 
cancer whatever the cost. And the doctor was responding, something about 
recovery time and weight loss and statistics.
Elizabeth let their words blur together.
In the aching, desperate places of her heart she was no longer sitting in a 
doctor's office receiving a death sentence. She was
eighteen, dancing in John's arms at the University of Michigan summer mixer. But 
then the image blurred and she wasn't wearing
a summer dress, but a simple white wedding gown and John wasn't teaching her to 
dance, but telling her he loved her. Forever and ever and always, he would love 
her.
But they weren't in a church anymore; they were in a hospital and Brooke was in 
her arms. Tiny and red-faced .and making the small bleating sounds of a newborn. 
Elizabeth held her close yet when she looked again it wasn't Brooke at all, but 
Luke, and John was saying, "I knew God would give us a son one day, a son we 
could call our own."
John's words were still filling the room, but the two of them weren't in a 
hospital; they were walking beside a Realtor, leading all five kids through a 
freshly painted farmhouse just outside the city limits with views of trees and 
creeks and rolling hills and wheat fields as far as the eye could see. And John 
was saying, "We'll take it!" And he was framing her face with his hands and 
whispering, "We'll raise our children here, Elizabeth, and when they're grown, 
we'll have grandchildren here--the Baxter house. And one day we'll be buried--"
"Elizabeth." John's tone was sharp, flooded with concern.
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kingsbury smalley
She blinked and looked at him. His eyes were intense, his expression fearful, 
the way it had been when Erin got lost at the mall one December. She glanced 
around and gave her head a slight shake. Where were they? Why was John... ?
The answers came at her almost in sync with the questions.
"Elizabeth, can you hear me?" He wasn't angry, just afraid. The way he looked so 
often these days.
"I'm sorry. I... I guess I didn't hear you." She sat up straighter and rubbed 
her eyes. "I was thinking back." She looked at the doctor's desk. "Are we done?"
"Yes." John breathed out and took both her hands in his. "Did you understand 
what the doctor was telling us? About the cancer?"
She didn't answer, couldn't. Instead she looked into his eyes. "We need to go 
home."
He angled his head, looking straight into her soul, telling her what his words 
could not. That he was sorry, that this was never how he'd pictured it ending, 
that he would do anything to change the facts, to turn back the hands of time 
and find a way to the place where she was well and the tomorrows spread out 
before them like the never-ending stream behind their house.
After a minute, John's voice strained, he pointed toward the door and said, I'll 
get you a chair." He had turned to leave when
she stopped him.
"John!"
He spun around, more fear in his eyes.
"No chair." She met his eyes. "I want to walk with you, beside you. 
At first he looked as if he might disagree, insist on the wheelchair
because of her condition. But he knew her heart even now. went to her, looped 
his arm through hers and, as always, he led her. Through the office, down the 
hallway, outside and to
the parking lot.
They were halfway to the car when she stopped and hung her head. 
"I can't, John."
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"Okay, stay here." He was about to run back for a chair when she shook her head.
"No." She turned to him and searched his eyes. "I can't be dying, John. I'm not 
ready. I love you too much."
As he studied her face, Elizabeth watched his expression fill with frustration, 
regret, futility. Then, in painful slow motion, he took her face in his hands 
the way he'd done so often over the years. His eyes grew watery as he gave the 
slightest shake of his head. "I'm so sorry, EliZabeth. I wish it were me."
"John . . ." She clung to him, grabbed handfuls of his navy pullover, and 
pressed the side of her face against his. The tears started up again, and this 
time they came from a place in her heart even she hadn't known about. A deep, 
anguished place that had somehow always known their story might end this way, a 
room Elizabeth had never dared to enter, with feelings so raw and terrifying 
they threatened to take her life there on the spot.
He smoothed his hand over her knit cap, down her back along the bones that stuck 
out more all the time. "Elizabeth, hear me." His words were determined, spoken 
through clenched teeth. "We can't give up. You have to fight it."
She sobbed, and the sound was louder than she intended, more like a series of 
deep coughs, each one shaking her, hunching her over as she held on to John. 
"I'm sorry. I... want to. I don't.., know how."
They stood there that way, holding each other so they wouldn't fall, until her 
sobs became shallow jagged breaths, until the tears gave way to a round of 
sputtering coughs, and John started them moving toward the car again.
The feel of his body at her side, his legs still strong as they moved in rhythm 
with hers, brought a strength Elizabeth hadn't felt all morning. But still every 
step seemed to rattle off her prognosis. Cancer. Spread. Other organs. Liver. 
Pancreas. Three months. Four. All the while the doctor's words acted as a 
backdrop, a running feed that colored every other aspect of her con"
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kingsbury smalley
dition. Whether we operate or not.., whether we operate or not... whether we 
operate or not...
The tears still fell from her eyes, but a new sort of peace filled her heart. 
Why would she agree to a surgery if half her organs were already affected with 
cancer? She was already bone thin. More surgery? The ordeal might leave her 
bedridden for the remainder of her days.
An image grew in her heart and filled her mind. Ashley on her wedding day, 
standing at the altar in their family's church, Pastor Mark marrying Ashley and 
Landon while everyone they knew or loved filled the building. And where would 
she be? In a hospital bed, too weak to even get dressed?
No, she wouldn't have it. Yes, they'd asked for a miracle, and God could still 
give them one. She was still afraid to die, still certain that somehow she'd 
survive even this type of cancer. But they'd also prayed for wisdom, hadn't 
they? As long as she was
breathing, God could improve her condition. But the doctor had
change
given them all the wisdom needed this they at point.
B!
Whether we operate or not, three months, maybe four. They reached the car, and 
John helped her inside. When he climbed in beside her, she searched his eyes. 
God... let him accept
what I'm about to say. Please, God.
"John..."
"I know." He slipped the key in the ignition and started the car. 
"We can talk at home."
"No." The calm in her voice surprised even her. "Please. I have
something to say."
shifted sideways and slipped his fingers between hers. r." A knowing filled his 
features, and he almost winced as
'.th tilted her head and willed him to see it her way. "I
operation, John."
shoulders fell an inch and his expression wilted. "What if doctor's wrong about 
the liver? Lots of people function with I. lung, and the pancreas can be 
removed."
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"It's in my lymph system. You and I both know that means cancer cells could show 
up anywhere, anytime." She lifted her chin and gazed at the sky for a moment. 
"Open me up now and I might never get out of bed again." Her eyes locked on his. 
"I can't have that happen. God can cure me with another round of chemo or 
radiation; he can give us the miracle we're praying for. But we asked for 
wisdom, John, and Dr. Steinman gave it to us. The surgery won't make a 
difference, so why have it?"
John exhaled and dropped his head into his free hand. For a moment he rubbed his 
thumb and forefinger along his brow, his anguish echoing with each breath. 
"How... how can you give up?" His hand fell away and he looked at her. "Lung 
cancer, Elizabeth." The fight was gone from his voice. "Surgery isn't optional. 
It's the only way around it."
"If it was only in my lungs I'd agree." Her words were slow, tender, revealing 
none of the fear that still tore through her. She gave his hand a gentle 
squeeze. "You heard him, John. Surgery won't help."
"But.. 2' The word hung on his lips and died there. His arms came around her, 
pulling her close once more. "You're not giving up?"
"No." She whispered the word against the side of his face. "Never, John. I'm not 
ready to go. I'm still scared to death." Her throat felt thick and she waited 
until she could speak. "I told you, after a few weeks I'll do more chemo, 
radiation. Whatever. But don't--" her voice broke--"don't let them operate. 
Please."
His hold on her grew tighter, but after a minute he relaxed and breathed against 
her hair. The way his body felt against hers, the tone of his voice, all of it 
told her he'd known all along that this was the logical decision. But he spoke 
none of that and said only, "Okay,"
When they pulled apart, Elizabeth studied his features. His expression shouted 
of resignation and defeat, but deep in his heart she could see that he agreed. 
That he was almost relieved by her decision.
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kingsbury smalley
"One more thing." She held her breath. This request was
maybe even more important than the first one.
He looked at her, waiting.
"I don't want the kids to know."
John raised one eyebrow and-stared out the windshield. "How?" He looked at her 
again. "They'll find out. They've been asking about your tests since the day you 
finished the chemo."
She was determined. "We tell them we're optimistic, that I'm going in for more 
Chemo in a few weeks, and that we should all keep praying."
"You think that'll be enough for Brooke? Come on, Elizabeth, she's a doctor. 
She'll want specifics and so will the rest of them."
"We'll tell them the truth; the surgery went well, but they didn't get all the 
cancer, and they're not sure how far spread it is."
"The truth?" John bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes. "The truth 
is you could be dead before the end of summer,
How can we not tell them that?"
Dead before the end of summer? Before their thirty-fifth anniversary?
Elizabeth swallowed, grabbing at her next breath. Fear
joined hands and suffocated her, but only for a few seconds. "It is the truth." 
Elizabeth leaned against the car door. She
her hands and blew out through pursed lips. "They didn't get all the cancer, and 
they're not sure how far spread it is."
He sank back. "If we tell them that much, we might as well tell the
rest."
"I can't have them know the whole truth, John. That I could die."
Sorrow mixed with anger, and her tears came again. "How can Ashley plan a 
wedding when you and I are planning a funeral. 
Tell me that, John. Tell me one good reason why I should tell them I have three 
months when God could still take the cancer away tomorrow. Or don't you believe 
God can do that, John?"
I believe." For a single heartbeat he remained motionless. Then everything about 
him softened and his jaw dropped.
I'm sorry."
the same way I felt about our son, the boy we had to give
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up." Sweat beaded on her forehead and she was exhausted. But she had to explain 
herself. "Why tell the others, when to do so would only Cause confusion and 
pain? If we couldn't find him, they never could, we found him either. They'd 
spend a lifetime
wondering about the brother they didn't know."
He nodded. "You're right."
She sobbed twice and squeezed her eyes shut. "So why would
we tell there?
For what? We had no choice about that child,John; he belonged to SOmeone else 
long before he was even born." Her
eyes opened and she searched his heart, his soul. "We have no choice now, 
either. None of us knows the number of our days. This--" she Waved her hand 
about the inside of the car--"this is Ashley's Season of love and happiness and 
everything she's ever dreamed of. I . .. will.., not..." ˘-en sucked in three 
quick breaths. "I will not ruin it for her, John. I won't."
"Elizabeth-.,, he cupped her hand with his--"I won't either." His words told her 
he agreed with everything she'd just said, that compariqg this to what had 
happened thirty-five years ago was.the quickest Way to make him understand. They 
hadn't had a choice about the boy, and they didn't have a choice about this. 
Telling the kids would only borrow tomorrow's pain, and there
was no sense in that. John PUlled out of the parking lot and headed for home, si 
lent, probably as struck by what she'd said as she was, Plotting arid planning 
and family discussions wouldn't be enough to find the child they'd given up, any 
more than plotting and plannirg and family discussions would be enough to make
her cancer ,.. .
-, ."ysteriouslv disappear.
It woutcl ta J
e a miracle. Elizabeth Corrected herself as she settle& into the seat and stared 
out the Window at the busy street. It wouldn't take one miracle at all. It would 
take two.
211 
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ashley COULDN'T PUT her finger onit.
She'd spent the past hour having tea with her mother, sitting at
her parents' dining-room table going over details of the wedding. It was the 
second week of June, and her mother looked better than she had in months, more 
color in her face, more energy.
But something wasn't right, the same something Ashley had seen a dozen times 
since their father told them the test results. The surgery was successful, but 
they hadn't gotten all the cancer, they weren't sure how far it had spread. The 
information felt a bit hazy at the time, but her mother was committed to more 
treatment. At first she'd planned on starting the next week, but because of the 
wedding she was waiting until the end of July.
"That way we can have our reunion on Sanibel Island," she'd told them. Ashley 
had compared notes with her sisters and Luke, and all were nervous. Nervous 
about the idea that somewhere cancer still remained in their mother's body, 
nervous about postponing her treatment, nervous about taking a trip to Sanabel 
Island, so far from her doctors.
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But they kept praying, and every day she seemed to get a little better.
"Okay." Her mother made a check mark on the notebook she'd been keeping. "You've 
got a cake picked out and ordered." She leaned back in her seat and took a sip 
from her teacup. "How 'bout the RSVPs? Do we have a head count?"
"That was next." Ashley sorted through a portable file she kept for the planning 
of her wedding. As she did, she caught another glimpse of her mother, relaxed 
and drinking tea.
Despite the unsettling concerns in her heart, Ashley smiled at the image her 
mother made. If only she had a canvas and a paintbrush handy.
When Ashley drank tea she liked it in the biggest mug she
could find, steaming hot and half full of cream.
Not her mother.
Elizabeth collected teapots, dainty china containers with intricate ribbons of 
gold and other precious metals. She never made just a cup of tea; she-brewed a 
pot. And when it had steeped the proper amount of time, when it was neither "too 
hot nor too tepid," as Elizabeth said, she would pour a fine brown stream into a 
delicate teacup.
In some ways the picture of her mother reminded her of her friend Irvel from 
Sunset Hills, and her love for tea, even until the end. But that was the only 
similarity. Her mother was still young, still vibrant, still fighting the 
disease and winning--if her improved appearance was any indication.
Ashley pulled out a stack of small white cards and laid them on the table. "More 
than two hundred people coming so far."
"We invited three hundred." Her mother set her cup down and flipped a few pages 
in her notebook to a list of names.
"Right. But they have another week to get their responses back."
"True." She ran her finger along the edge of the paper. "How about the Cummins 
family, your father's partner?"
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"I doubt it; they're busy with family issues. At least that's what Dad said."
"Fine. I'll put doubtful by their names." Elizabeth ran her finger down a bit 
farther. "Landon's Aunt Kathy from Indianapolis and her family--any word from 
them?"
"Landon says they're coming for sure."
"Good." She made a mark by the name and continued down the list.
They kept up that way until they had a rough idea that two hundred and fifty 
guests would attend the event. But all the while, Ashley couldn't shake the 
feeling that somehow they shouldn't be talking about wedding guests and cake 
designs, but whether her mother needed more tests, more treatment. Not after the 
wedding, but before it.
The angst stayed with Ashley even after she left the Baxter house. Landon had 
the day off. He was picking Cole up at school and they were meeting at the park. 
He was already there with
Cole when she pulled into the lot and climbed out of her car. She started toward 
them and stopped.
With all the worrying about her mother and the details of the wedding, she 
hadn't stood back and realized the miracle their lives had become, the three of 
them. Her two men hadn't spotted her yet, so she watched them unnoticed.
Cole was on an old lopsided merry-go-round, clinging to the metal bars while 
Landon ran alongside it, picking up speed. After a few seconds, he stood back, 
grinning. Then, when Cole passed by the next time, Landon jumped on and scooped 
Cole onto his lap. Together they held on as the merry-go-round circled another 
ten times before slowing to a stop.
When they climbed off, Cole held his hands up and Landon swung him onto his 
shoulders. They were laughing about something, but Ashley was too far away to 
make out what. They barely made it out of the sandpit and onto the grass before 
they spilled onto the ground, giggling and rolling around.
Ashley's eyes stung as she watched them.
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God... I doubted you all my life. And now... She breathed in sharply through her 
nose and lifted her eyes.-Now I'm healthy and I'm marrying Landon and my little 
boy has a daddy; all my dreams are coming true.
She wanted to fall to her knees, to beg God to forgive her for every time she'd 
ever doubted him. But she'd already done that so many times before that here, 
now, she looked across the park to Landon and Cole and grinned. Thank you, God. 
I'll spend the rest of my life being thankful.
A verse flashed in her mind, so real, so distinct she wasn't sure if she'd heard 
it or just remembered it. "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! 
I have overcome the world."
It was a Scripture from John, Ashley was sure. She'd taken to reading a chapter 
in her Bible every night before bed. The verse
about trouble was one she'd come across a week ago.
But why would it come back to her now?
Cole bounced to his feet and began running from Landon, but Landon was quick. He 
chased her son, and several yards away he caught him and spun him around a few 
times before setting him back down.
Suddenly it dawned on her why the verse had come to her here as she watched 
Landon and Cole. In this world she'd had plenty of trouble. Paris? Jean-Claude? 
Her resistance to Cole, to Landon? Her determination to fight her family's 
faith?
A sad chuckle came from her. Yes, she'd had trouble in this world. But God had 
overcome all of it.
She sauntered toward them, and after a few steps Landon spotted her. He tapped 
Cole and in no time her son was running toward her, his short blond hair flying 
in the wind. "Mommy! You came "
"Of course, silly." She swept him into her arms and kissed the tip of his nose. 
Landon was smiling, drawing closer, his eyes intent on hers. Her stomach 
flip-flopped the way it always did these days when Landon was near. The wedding 
couldn't come soon enough.
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kingsbury smalley
"Good, let's go swing!" Cole slid down, grabbed her hand, and closed the 
distance to Landon. "We're gonna swing, Landon Wanna come?"
"Sure." He came up alongside her, slipped his arm around her waist, and kissed 
her. Then in a voice for her ears alone he said, "You look beautiful, Ash."
"Thanks." She grinned and felt her cheeks grow hot. "You are gorgeous."
"How's your mom?" He moved slowly, his long legs in step with hers.
"Better, I think. She looks stronger, healthier. Still talking about that crazy 
reunion on Sanibel Island." She thought for a moment. "I'm worried about her, 
Landon. But I think she's winning the fight."
"No one's too crazy about Sanibel, huh?" His voice was tender, understanding.
"Not this year." She blew at a wisp of her hair. "We want to stay home, around 
the Baxter house, remembering the good
times and helping Mom get better."
"Makes sense."
"Hey!" Cole ran a few steps ahead. "You guys are taking too long. Come on..."
"I missed you, Ash." Landon spoke near her ear.
"Me too." His closeness sent shivers down her spine. "What're we
doing tonight?"
"Nothing alone." He gave her a crooked smile. "I can't take it." She giggled and 
let herself melt against his side as they
"Definitely nothing alone."
They'd imposed guidelines on their engagement dating. A
if he was at her house and an agreement not to be alone ether. Whereas before 
they could kiss and no matter how difstill
walk away, now the desire between them was more
either of them could take. Especially since she was healthy. Cole jumped onto 
the first swing he came to and looked at
wide-eyed. "Ready, guys. Someone push me, please."
:
216 
Landon leaned in and kissed her again. "I called Kari. She'll watch Cole at your 
parents' house. How 'bout dinner near the university and a walk near the art 
gallery?'.' She caught his eyes and her heart dissolved. He loved her so much, 
knew her so well. The week before she'd finished a paint ing, a piece detailing 
a little boy and a puppy playing in the front yard of a country home. The local 
gallery had it in the front win dow, and Ashley had wondered if they had sold it 
yet. And what else had the gallery taken in? But with the wedding plans and 
worries over her mother, she hadn't had time even to call. This time she leaned 
up and kissed him on the cheek. "You'll never know how much I love you, Landon." 
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." "You know what?" "What?" He turned and 
faced her, ignoring Cole's cries for a push. "I can't believe we're getting 
married." She brought her voice down to a whisper and brushed her cheek against 
his.-"I was thinking of a Bible verse before I walked out here. It's in John, 
when Jesus is talking: 'In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I 
have overcome the world.'" Landon's face was inches from hers, and he looked 
straight to her heart. "That's just what he did with you and me, Ash. He 
overcame every single thing." "As long as we live--" she tapped her nose against 
his--"even when we're old and gray, he always will. He's that kind of God." 
"Guys, come on!" Cole swung his feet and made a half hearted attempt at getting 
the swing in motion. "Someone push, please!" Ashley gave Landon one more look, a 
look that said she couldn't wait to walk down the aisle and become his wife, 
couldn't wait for their first night together and their first year and every 
other wonderful thing that would happen after that. She whispered another, "I 
love you" and then turned to Cole.
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kingsbury smalley
She darted around behind the swing and tickled Cole. "Okay, mister, get your 
feet out. This is gonna be the best under doggie you've ever had."
All he could think about was the photograph.
Dayne Matthews pulled the baseball cap low over his eyes and climbed in behind 
the wheel of his Navigator. He had a house on the beach in Malibu, and for now, 
a leased apartment in Manhattan as well. The movie cast and crew had the weekend 
off, so he'd taken a flight home and arrived at his beach house late last night.
Today, a long jog on the shores of Mal'ibu, tennis with his neighbor--an MTV 
video producer--and lunch on his balcony overlooking the water. Through all of 
the day's activities he
to this moment, to the time when he would leave the
and head for the storage unit. He grabbed a grungy from the backseat, pulled it 
on, and backed onto Pa-
Coast Highway. The tinted windows helped, but he needed cap and sweatshirt. He 
wouldn't take any chances of being seen. 
Not today.
Tomorrow he had to catch a flight out of Burbank, one that
change planes in Chicago and land at New York's aGuardia sometime after 
midnight. He was due back on the set Monday morning, so he had no time for 
autograph seekers or aparazzi, no time to think about anything but finding the 
picture.
The storage unit was off Ventura Boulevard near North Hollywood, and after forty 
minutes behind the wheel, he saw the sign
ahead. He pulled into the parking lot, turned off the engine, and fingered the 
key. After spending an hour looking for it, he'd found it in a drawer in his 
Malibu kitchen.
The unit number was taped to the key ring. Unit fourteen. He glanced at the 
office, but the woman inside was busy on
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the phone. Keeping his face down, he raised one hand in her direction and kept 
walking. Unit fourteen was easy to find. He turned the key in the lock and 
lifted the door.
The place was dark and musty after years of never being exposed to fresh air or 
sunlight. He flipped on the light switch and stared at the contents. Thirty or 
forty boxes, some bigger than others, stacked eight feet high in what had to be 
the smallest unit the office rented out.
A step stool sat against the inside door, and Dayne grabbed it. He was six-two, 
but the top boxes were out of reach without some help. The stool wobbled and a 
cloud of dust billowed out as he took down the first box. He coughed and waved 
his hand in front of his face. Dreaded dust, bound to kick up his hay fever. 
He'd be sneezing and coughing straight through Monday's shoot if he didn't be 
careful.
The second box brought just as much dust, and Dayne breathed into his 
sweatshirt. This was why he'd thought about hiring someone for the job. But that 
wasn't possible either. He couldn't trust anyone. Regardless of what they found 
in his parents'
archives, the tabloids would hear about it within a week. Dayne couldn't take 
that chance.
When half the boxes were spread in rows across the floor, Dayne started with the 
first box on the left. "Tax Documents" the box read. He opened the lid, peered 
inside, and verified that the contents were, indeed, tax documents.
Then he moved to the second box, which was marked "Support Letters." Inside were 
letters from churchgoers who had supported his parents over the years. He picked 
out one and opened it.
Dear Bob and Andrea Matthews,
Enclosed please find a support check for $1,100, collected last Sunday at a 
special offering for your jungle work in Indoresia. We approve of your efforts 
at getting out the Word of God, and we pray that the love of Christ and his 
saving truth will spread and gain acceptance in the places where God has put you 
....
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ki n gs b u r y sin alle˘
Dayne stopped reading.
The places where God has put you? If God was so good at putting people in the 
right places, how come he didn't put his parents in the same village as he was? 
Four hundred miles away at boarding school couldn't possibly have been God 
Almighty's idea of good placement, could it?
Dayne shoved the letter back in the box and shut it. When his parents died he'd 
told himself the same thing he'd always told himself every day since: It was 
their choice. They loved mission work. Flying in small planes over jungle areas 
was just one of the risks they were willing to take.
He could shake his fist at God or hate his parents for taking a job that kept 
them away from him most of the year. He could walk around angry at the irony of 
his parents' spending a lifetime telling other people about God while their own 
kid didn't get it.
Or he could simply accept the facts, the way he'd worked to accept them every 
day since their plane crashed.
His parents had followed their hearts, given their lives to something they 
loved. If they died doing it, so be it. At least they were happy. If they were 
in his business, they could've died on location for a film. He wouldn't have 
spent a lifetime hating them if that had been the case. Just because their work 
involved a God he didn't believe in didn't mean he'd spend a lifetime hating 
them.
Rather, he had spent his years trying to remember the good times, the summer 
months and furloughs when they were together. His parents had been wonderful, 
totally focused on helping
people and ministering to the needs of others.
No, they hadn't exactly tended to his needs. Boarding school had
never been his idea of a perfect family setup. But as long as he
lived he would respect them for the kind of people they were and for following 
their beliefs. Still, enough of the support letters. 
He worked his way through the boxes as one hour became
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two. Finally, scribbled on a box stacked near the back, second row up from the 
floor, he saw words that made his heart miss a beat.
"Adoption Information."
Adoption.
The word landed in Dayne's gut like a rock, and for a moment he could only let 
it sit there. Adoption?
"Adoption?" He whispered it out loud, and it felt foreign on his tongue.
Suddenly memories jumped out at him and came to life. He'd been what, six? 
seven? He and his parents were on furlough back in Chicago, Illinois, staying in 
an apartment leased by one of their supporting churches. They had called him 
into their room and sat him on the bed.
"We want to be honest with you. No matter what, you're our
son. You've always been our son, and you always will be." The memory grew more 
vivid, the details sharper.
Dayne had pulled his feet up and sat cross-legged on their bed. His stomach hurt 
because where in the world was the conversation going? "I know all that," he 
told them.
"Yes, but there's something you don't know." His mother angled her head; her 
eyes looked watery.
"A different woman carried you and bore you, Dayne." His father gave a serious 
nod. "She was too young to have a baby so she
made up her mind long before you were born to give you to us." "Because you were 
our son, honey. Does that make sense?" Not a word of it made sense, but Dayne 
nodded anyway. A few more times over the years, they had mentioned something 
similar, something about praying for the woman who had given birth to him. But 
never in that time did they use the word adopted.
He was their son from the start, end of story.
What would a kid know of things like that? He had been what, eight?--nine 
maybe?--the last time he'd even considered the idea that someone else had given 
birth to him? Middle school
221 
kingsbury
smalley
came and then high school, and even at a boarding facility a kid has more to 
think about than whether he was adopted. Especially when his parents never came 
out and said as much.
Another memory hit Dayne then, almost knocked him back on the storage unit's 
cement floor,
The week before his parents' plane crash, his mother had called him and asked 
the usual. How was he doing in class? What were his study hours like? Which play 
was he working on? How was his relationship with Christ? Being missionaries, his 
parents were always asking how his relationship with Christ was,
And being a missionary kid, his answer 'as the same each time: 'Fine." What else 
could he say? That he hadn't a clue how to have a relationship with someone 
invisible? If that someone even existed in the first place.
Anyway, his mother had said something else at the end of the conversation, 
something about the pictures. Dayne closed his eyes now, and he could almost 
hear her voice, hear her end of the conversation as if it were playing again in 
his mind.
"Now that you're a senior, there are some things we want you to have," she'd 
told him. "Photographs, things you've already seen but things that should be 
yours now."
They made plans to look at the pictures next time they were together. But the 
plane had crashed before they had a chance, and his parents' belongings were 
shipped to the storage unit in North Hollywood.
One of the men from the missions board at their supporting church in Chicago had 
met Dayne at the airport and told him about the storage unit. He had offered to 
take Dayne there, help him sort through his parents' belongings. But Dayne had 
put it off. He'd applied to UCLA, sending in thirty minutes of highlights from 
plays he'd starred in at boarding school. Because of his tragic situation and 
his high promise, he earned a full-ride scholarship. Since then he hadn't had 
either the interest or the time to go through their things. They were gone; 
nothing in the boxes could bring them back or give him a family where he had 
none.
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But now . . .
Now, looking at the box, with a lifetime of memories taking shape in his head, 
Dayne realized something he hadn't ever fully acknowledged. He wasn't merely a 
kid who'd had a different woman give birth to him than the one who raised him. 
He was adopted. His parents would always be his parents, but somewhere out there 
was a woman who had given birth to him, who had struggled in some way or been 
unable to raise a baby. A woman who had loved him enough to give him to the 
people he called his parents.
Never in all his growing-up years could Dayne remember his mom and dad using 
terms like adoptive parents or biological mother. They never said, Dayne, you're 
adopted Rather they walked around the issue and lived with the fact that Dayne 
never connected the dots. Why would he? There Were no family members around to 
remind him of his background, no reason to talk about it at all except when he 
was interviewed by a variety magazine or a TV talk-show host.
"Orphaned at the age of eighteen" was all they usually said. Once in a while 
they went a little deeper. "'Reared in a boarding school while his parents were 
missionaries in the jungles of Indonesia until a plane crash took their lives." 
That sort of thing. The story never got deeper than that because Dayne didn't 
let it. Never had he mentioned that "oh, by the way, another woman gave birth to 
me. 
It wasn't, something he thought about, wasn't something he
acknowledged or admitted on a conscious level.
Until now.
Slowly, not sure if he should turn and run or open the box, he headed toward it. 
The contents were heavier than some of the others, and when he set it down he 
heard the clank of glass. Picture frames, The box had to contain pit'tures. But 
why would framed pictures be in a carton marked adoption Information"?
He opened the flaps and took a step back, as if the documets and pictures might 
take the form of a rattlesnake and bite him.
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kingsbu ry sin a lie y
But there was no turning back; now that he'd come this far there was nothing to 
do but look. His jeans-covered knees hit the ground, and he slid the box closer.
One look inside told him the box didn't contain pictures, Rather it contained 
framed documents of some sort. He lifted the top frame, a cheap brown metal one, 
and under the glass was a document declaring 'Dayne Matthews the son of Bob and 
Andrea Matthews, residing in Chicago, Illinois."
The one beneath it was similar, but the document had some sort of official seal. 
He looked closer and realized it was his birth certificate, at least as far as 
he could make out. But in the section marked "Birth Mother" the name was x-ed 
out. At least three times across, so that the entire line was a smeary black 
mess.
One more frame remained, and now that the top two were moved, Dayne saw it was 
smaller than the others. Much smaller. It was facedown, but even before he 
turned it over, he knew. It
wasn't a document like the other two.
It was a photograph.
He reached into the box, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it over. Not when 
his little-kid memories were coming back again. Something about that first time, 
the day his parents had asked him into their room at the church-leased 
apartment. They'd told him about the woman who had given birth to him-- even 
though they said they'd been his parents even before he was born.
But they'd showed him something, too.
"Dayne we have a picture of the woman who gave birth to you." His mother had 
taken a framed photo from her bottom dresser drawer and held it out for Dayne to 
see. "She was very young and very kind. Because she knew God wanted us to be 
your parents, She left us this picture, and we saved it for you. In case you 
ever want to see what she looked like."
The memory was so clear now it was spooky. Why after all these years, would 
everything about that time come back to him? And if the woman had left a picture 
of herself, why hadn't
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his parents showed it to him again, when he was old enough to make a conscious 
decision about it? Like, "Hey sure, I'll take it," or "Gee, whadya know; I sorta 
look like her." 
Dayne sat back on his heels and felt in his oversized sweatshirt pocket for the 
picture, the one he'd taken off Luke Baxter's desk. He pulled it out and set it 
up on the floor a few feet from the box. If his director could see him now, he'd 
think Dayne Matthews had lost it for sure. Never mind messing up an action scene 
or forgetting to kiss Sarah Whitley. Here he was in some dank stor age unit 
performing a ritual with some photograph he hadn't 
seen since he was six or seven years old. 
Talk about wacky. 
But still he couldn't stop himself, couldn't keep from finishing what he'd 
started. And without waiting another minute he reached into the box, grabbed the 
frame, and pulled it out. 
It was the photograph, the one he remembered his mother showing him. 
Dayne's hands began to shake and he set the photo down. His heart was beating 
wildly, and in a blur of motion he shut the box lid, set the Baxter photo on it, 
and placed the picture of his birth mother beside it. 
The trembling worked its way through his body. He couldn't draw a deep breath. 
His eyes focused first on one picture, then the other, until there was no 
denying the resemblance. Not be cause the woman who bore him looked like him. 
But because she looked exactly like Luke Baxter's mother. 
225 
Elizabeth was alone in the house and, as usual, fear was having its way with 
her.
A week earlier she'd been sure God was answering her prayers, that the miracle 
everyone was praying for was actually taking place. She'd been able to sit with 
Ashley and discuss the wedding over tea, take walks around their property with 
John, and most of all, start her special project--the one she'd been wanting to 
do since her surgery.
But now it was late in the third week of June, and for six straight days she 
hadn't had the strength to get out of bed. She was achy and tired, with not even 
a little appetite. But worst of all, she couldn't stop coughing. A cold, she 
called it, or flu or maybe bronchitis.
John went along with her. He agreed that several bugs were going around and that 
certainly her hacking cough could be attributed to something viral. But shouting 
at her all the while were the facts, the ones she had tried to leave back at Dr. 
Steinman's office the day they got the test results.
The cancer was in her lungs.
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Wasn't that what the X rays had shown? Wasn't that at least as viable an 
explanation for her cough and weight loss, for her lack of appetite?
At her request, they still hadn't told the kids those details. That first week, 
when her strength seemed to be coming back, there seemed no need. She was 
getting stronger, better, more able to get around, and clearly God was healing 
her. Even as late as a week ago, the conversations between her and John were 
always anchored on that truth. Of course God would heal her. The cancer would be 
gone by fall, no doubt.
But now, just after noon as she lay in her bed, her body aching, lungs burning, 
ribs sore from coughing, she was too scared to do anything but stare at the door 
and wish for a visitor: Ashley with wedding plans, Kari with stories of Ryan's 
coaching buddies, Cole bringing her another colored picture, John stopping in to 
check on her.
Anything to interrupt the building anxiety, the raw terror at what was seeming 
more and more obvious. That maybe she really was dying.
The thought tried to lodge in her throat, tried to stop her from drawing another 
breath, but she wouldn't let it. Lying there feeling afraid was no way to live, 
no matter what was happening to her.
Her mind reeled with the possibilities. Cancer... cancer... cancer.., spread 
through her lungs.., spread through her...
The idea was so frightening she lay frozen and stayed there, eyes unblinking. 
Imagining being ripped from her family in three short months was bound to make 
her more frightened, more ridden with anxiety.
What she needed was something to distract her. The project, yes, that's what she 
needed. A moment to work on the project. No matter how sick she felt, she needed 
to continue working, plodding away until she was finished. It was the only thing 
that took her mind off the terrifying possibilities.
She reached for the portfolio she kept beneath her pillow. It
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kingsbu ry s malle y
was easier that way--no need to worry about climbing out of bed or even opening 
the drawer of her nightstand. For a while, her chest heaving from the exertion, 
she stared at the leather binding, then opened it. The inside cover had a pocket 
and three envelopes. They were in order, one for John, one for the kids, and 
another that read simply "Firstborn."
She was writing letters to all the people she loved, the people who had made her 
life something to sing about. The man she'd fallen in love with so many years 
ago, the one she fell more in love with all the time. The five kids who had 
given her the greatest
life a woman could ever have.
And one more.
For the son she never knew. Not because she had any reason to believe God would 
give her a miracle and let her find him. But because one day he might find her; 
and if he did, she wanted to have something for him, some words that would tell 
him how she felt, how she hadn't forgotten, no matter how hard she'd tried.
John knew nothing of the letters. She kept them hidden at night, and tucked 
beneath her pillow in the daytime. The letters would worry him; she was supposed 
to be gearing the family up for the Florida reunion and Ashley's wedding, not 
writing farewell letters.
Elizabeth coughed three times straight and held her breath. Sometimes holding 
her breath warded off more coughing, and this time it worked. She was finished 
with John's letter and working on the one for the kids. Each child would be 
mentioned, and right now she was writing the part specifically for gari.
Elizabeth took a sheet of floral paper from the back pocket of the portfolio and 
laid it across the cardboard writing surface inside. The paper was something 
she'd picked up at the Christian bookstore in town. Each piece had a different 
tloral pattern and a Scripture verse printed across the top. She held her pen 
near the top of the page and looked up a few inches at the verse.
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"Not my will, but yours be done."
Elizabeth stared at the words. She'd read the verse a hundred times in her life, 
but now.., now it held new significance. Was God trying to tell her something, 
trying to adjust her perspective?
Ever since the diagnosis, she'd been praying for her will, and hers alone. She 
needed a miracle because she wanted to live, wanted to stay with her family a 
full hundred years before heading off to heaven. Her prayers had been entirely 
focused around that idea. Please, God, heal me. Please let me live; don't let me 
die, God, not now. Hour after hour, day after day, she'd prayed.
Not once during that time had she prayed for God's will, and now, as she stared 
at the verse, Elizabeth knew why. She didn't want to pray for God's will. 
Praying like that meant that maybe, just maybe, his will might not match up with 
hers. His will might be to take her home before summer was over.
Rather than risk that, she had simply prayed for her will. The will of everyone 
she loved. Everyone except her Savior.
A piercing remorse cut through her and her face grew hot. She drew in a deep 
breath and the air rattled in her chest, sending her into a coughing spasm that 
seemed worse than any before it.
She gasped for air, her lungs screaming within her. Another series of spasms and 
she coughed again, and again. Usually she coughed in bursts of three or four, 
but this time her body fell into a rhythm she couldn't break. She dug her elbow 
into the mattress and worked herself up onto her side.
Another cough and another. Her hipbone hurt from having to bear her slight 
frame, so she struggled and worked some more until finally, still coughing and 
exhausted, she was sitting up.
Tears welled in her eyes and she stared at the bedroom door. "Someone, come..."
All of the kids had told her to call, to say the word and they'd be there for 
her, but she had brushed away their offers. "I'm fine," she would tell them. 
"Come visit, but don't worry. I'll be all right."
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Two more deep coughs. She pressed her hand against her chest, willing her body 
to regain control.
If she could reach the phone, she'd call them now, ask one of them to come and 
help her. But what good would it do? She needed help now, needed someone to get 
her up and take her to the bathroom so she could stand against the counter and 
catch her breath.
Her body relaxed some, but she felt another wave building in her lungs, pushing 
her to cough again.
Out of the bed, Elizabeth, she told herself. Now... out.
She swung her legs over the edge and allowed two short coughs. Give me the 
strength, God... I can't do it alone.
Her feet made contact with the floor, and she pushed her hands against the edge 
of the mattress to give her the momentum to stand. Then, as though a pair of 
unseen hands were guiding her steps, she made it to the bathroom. She stared at 
herself in the mirror and her heart caught in her throat.
She was deathly gray, the skin around her lips a translucent blue. Her hair 
wasn't growing back as well now, and bare patches still stood out along her 
scalp. Besides all that, her sweatshirt and sweatpants hung on her. She looked 
nothing like the woman she'd been only two months earlier.
The urgency in her lungs built again, and she gripped the bathroom counter. This 
time the coughs came from a deeper place than before, shaking her body and 
leaving her nauseous and on the verge of collapse. Elizabeth wasn't sure how 
much time passed before finally, mercifully, the coughing subsided.
Something filled her mouth, and she reached for a tissue. Was she vomiting? Had 
the strength of her coughing brought up the few bites of oatmeal she had been 
able to stomach for breakfast? Whatever it was, it tasted strange and bitter.
She spit into the tissue, pulled it back, and stared.
Her heart skipped a beat and then flipped into a strangely irregular rhythm. The 
entire tissue was filled with thick, bright
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red, clotted blood. She stared at it, sludied it, until gradually the truth 
began to dawn.
Viral infections didn't make a person cough up blood; neither did the flu or 
bronchitis or even pneumonia. Only one thing
would bring up the thick blood she held in her tissue. Advanced lung cancer.
Elizabeth wadded up the tissue, tossed it in the trash can, and rinsed her 
mouth. Then, with a strength that came from God alone, she made her way back to 
the bed and sprawled out against a stack of pillows. There, for the tenth time 
since their last meeting with the doctor, Elizabeth considered something she 
hadn't before.
What if she didn't get her miracle?
What if everything Dr. Steinman said was right? Her cancer had spread through 
her lungs and internal organs, and with or without a second surgery, she would 
die in three months?
Her breathing came quicker, and more coughing with it. She gripped the 
bedspread, digging her fingernails into it until her knuckles were white. Take 
it away, God; make my lungs better. You know me... you knit me together in my 
mother's womb.., take the cancer from every part of my body, please, God. 
Please...
The silent words became a whisper, and the whisper a desperate cry for help. 
"Please, God... I beg you, make me well."
Don't be afraid, daughter. Remember . . . not your will, but mine be done.
The whispered response blew across her heart and she fell silent, Her eyes 
opened and she stared out the window, It was windy; thunderstorms were forecast 
for later in the afternoon. A gust hit the house and the roof creaked.
"God?" Elizabeth coughed twice and watched the sky. Dark clouds were rolling in.
The response had been more real than anything she'd ever heard before. Not a 
gentle feeling or a sense of peace but loud enough to echo through her very 
soul. Gentle and firm, the response could've come from only one place.
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kingsbury smalley 
"Not my will, but yours be done." 
It was the verse on the floral paper, the one she was going to use to write the 
letter to the kids before her coughing attack. And sud denly, her entire body 
went limp with wonder. Was it possible? Had God put the Scripture before her 
eyes as a way of getting her attention? And then when she'd fallen prey to fear 
and resorted to 
her same old prayers, had he brought the verse to mind again? "Not my will, but 
yours be done." 
And what else had she heard? "Don't be afraid, daughter"? Yes, that was it. 
"Don't be afraid." 
Tears stung at her eyes. But she was afraid; she was scared all the time, torn 
between living in the moment and making mental calculations of how little time 
she might have left. Three months meant she might not live to see most of her 
kids and grandkids have another birthday. It meant no. more Christmases or 
Thanksgiving dinners or Easters. The more she thought about those horrible 
possibilities, the more frightened she felt. 
) 
Until now. 
Now, with storm clouds gathering outside her window, Eliza beth felt a burst of 
sunlight in her heart, a warmth that had been missing since before her surgery. 
Peace flooded her being, ward ing off what had become a permanent chill. 
"Do not be afraid .... Not your will, but mine be done." Something beyond 
peaceful filled her at the thought of God's will. She remembered when she first 
heard about God's will as a little girl. Her father had lost his job at the 
factory and for the first time Elizabeth could remember, the strong, unyielding 
man she had always counted on was broken. 
That night, after he'd dried his eyes, her father told her, "Sometimes things 
just aren't God's will." 
And then he'd given her a word picture she remembered still. "God's will," he 
told her, "is a little like taking a Sunday drive with God behind the wheel. 
God's driving. 
"He might turn where you don't expect a turn or go through a valley that feels 
too dark," her father said. "But you don't have to 
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worry about a thing, because you're just the passenger. Whatever happens, God 
will get you home in the end as long as you let him drive." He patted her on the 
head. "That's God's will."
The memory hadn't come back to her in decades, but now it was as large as life, 
bigger than the thunderheads gathering outside.
A flash of light lit the outdoors, and almost at the same time a clap of thunder 
shook the house. An hour ago, the storm would've made Elizabeth feel worse, more 
frightened, less in control.
But now with her father's words and the gentle answer from God echoing through 
her being, Elizabeth sank deeper into her pillows, utterly relaxed. God was in 
control. Wasn't that the bottom line, the message he was trying to tell her? Not 
her will, but his be done. That meant that yes, maybe she would die soon. But 
she wouldn't die afraid and alone with no hope. She would die with her family 
gathered around her, certain of her place in
heaven, convinced that one day they would all be together again. God had created 
her, and he knew the number of her days. Fretting about her situation, begging 
God to change his mind, would only color her remaining time in fear and panic-- 
whether she had days or years left to live.
The change of heart worked its way through her conscious and her subconscious, 
her sinews and bones, and even to the
cancer-ridden places of her body. God was driving; she was not. Yes, she would 
like a miracle.
"God... you know my thoughts." She whispered the words, staring at the dark sky 
and the occasional bolt of lightning that shot through it. "Of course I want you 
to heal me... but I hear you.., for the first time since I've been sick I hear 
you."
Elizabeth coughed again and once more something filled her mouth. She reached 
for a tissue from her nightstand and spit. More bright-colored blood. But this 
time she wasn't surprised. More than that, she wasn't afraid.
And as another clap of thunder rattled the windows, a know
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ing came over her. Yes, they would pray for a miracle. But the family also 
needed to be aware of the very real possibility that she might not survive. It 
wasn't fair to keep them wondering, guessing. She glanced at the tissue again 
and folded it. Not when all the signs pointed to one fact and one alone.
Footsteps sounded in the foyer and outside her bedroom door. John burst into the 
room, his face a familiar mask of fear and concern. "Hey... sorry, honey. I 
meant to stop by earlier." He headed for her bed and sat at the edge. His eyes 
searched hers and he leaned in close, kissing her with all the tenderness the 
years had given him. "Kari and Ashley called, and I guess they've been out 
looking at shoes for the wedding. They didn't want to call and wake you. Anyway, 
I was talking to Dr. Steinman earlier and he says... Elizabeth..." He dusted his 
fingertips along her cheekbone. "What is it? You look.., different."
"I feel better, John. God and I had a talk. I'm not afraid anymore."
"That's great." Relief softened his eyes. "I've been praying all day that maybe 
it really has been just the flu or bronchitis, and that even this afternoon 
you'd start to feel better. And if you've talked to God, then--" he looked at 
her nightstand and his expression became a mix of horror and 
shock--"Elizabeth..."
She saw out of the corner of her eye what he was looking at. It was the bloody 
tissue, the one she'd used just before he got home. "Yes." Her voice was calm, 
measured. "I've been coughing up blood."
"But I thought--" he looked at her and then back at the tissue--"I thought you 
felt better?"
"I do." Her heart ached at the look in his eyes and she felt a certain 
understanding. The fear was gone, yes, but this journey would still be marked 
with sorrow. It would be her job to help John and the others feel the same peace 
God had given her.
She reached for his hand and searched his eyes, praying he might find the peace 
she'd found. I'm getting worse, John. We need to tell the kids."
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"No!" He stood up, staring at her. "What's this about?" He brushed his hair 
back, paced to the door, and turned around. "This morning you were sure you had 
the flu, and now you're dying? Is that all the fight you've got?"
Thunder rocked the room; she waited until it died down. "I'm still fighting, 
still praying for a miracle. But the truth is, unless God changes something 
fast, I don't have long." She paused. "That's what God and I talked about."
"So that's it?" John tossed up his hands and huffed. His voice was tense, 
fearful, bordering on angry. "What about chemo or a second opinion or radiation? 
We can postpone Ashley's wedding,
Elizabeth, but you can't give up."
She held out her arms and waited.
Minutes passed while the storm outside raged every bit as hard as the one raging 
within John. Then finally the clouds in his eyes broke. First anger, then fear 
fell from his expression, until all that remained was sorrow. He went to her, 
dropped onto the bed beside her, and took her in his arms. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Her eyes stung, but she wasn't going to cry. Not now when she was 
still basking in the peace of surrendering her will. A series of hard coughs 
shook her body, while John soothed his hand along her back.
"How long--" he lifted his eyes to hers and waited while she coughed again--"how 
long have you been coughing up blood?"
like that?" She looked at the tissue on the nightstand. "Just today. But it's 
happened twice in the last hour."
John gave a slow nod. Then he buried his face in her shoulder and stretched out 
alongside her. "Tell me about you and God."
"It was a verse I saw today." Three more coughs tore at her. verse from Luke: 
'Not my will, but yours be done.'"
She felt him stiffen. "Earlier... after you got sick again I saw that verse and 
thought of you."
'Yes, well..." She inhaled slowly. Her lungs rattled in a way .John could 
certainly hear, too. "I read it today and I remembered something my dad said."
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"Your dad?" He cuddled against her, clinging to her. "You mean the man who hated 
me?"
She managed a sad. small laugh. 'This was before he hated
you.'
"Okay, go ahead then."
"Anyway--" another cough--'he told me that knowing God's will was like getting 
in the car and letting God do the driving. You, the passenger, never have to 
worry about a thing because God's at the wheel. No matter how scary the ride 
gets, God's in control, and in the end he'll get you home safely."
"Hmmm." John hesitated. "Lots of wisdom for a mean guy." "Right." She breathed 
in the smell of him, the sensation of his body against hers even with her sweats 
and the lumpy sheets and his clothes separating them. "That's what I thought."
They were quiet, holding on to the moment. "The Scripture? That's why you felt 
better today?"
"Mmm-hmm," Her bones ached again, and she made a slight shift of her body. "I'm 
not afraid anymore." She exhaled and let herself relax against him. "You can't 
believe how good that feels."
"I'm glad."
She could feel his heartbeat, feel it pick up speed. "What are you thinking?"
"You think you're dying, Elizabeth? Is that why you want to tell the kids?"
"Thinking something doesn't mean I'm giving up." Again her words were slow, 
filled with a peace that had been missing for so many weeks. "It means God's 
giving me a glimpse of the road ahead, and I think the kids should know."
He slid back so he could see her. "You didn't answer my question."
"About dying?"
"Right." His voice was no longer urgent, but clearly he wasn't satisfied with 
her tirst answer. He pursed his lips and then relaxed them. "Do you think 
you're.., you're... ?"
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The answer became more certain in her heart as he searched for the right words. 
But the strangest thing was this: She felt even more at peace now than before. 
She lifted her hands and framed the sides of his face. "I still want to pray for 
a miracle, and I promise, as soon as Ashley's wedding is over I'll go for 
another
round of chemo."
"But..."
"But yes,John, I think I'm dying. And I'm not afraid even a little; you know 
why?"
Tears flooded his eyes and his chin quivered. He cleared his throat so he could 
find a way to speak. "Why?"
"Because no matter what happens now, God's driving."
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The meeting took place the last Friday in June. John invited them for seven 
o'clock and from the moment
they arrived, he was sure they knew something was wrong. They never received an 
invitation to visit without an invitation to dinner. Their conversations with 
each other were short and hushed, and John saw Kari and Ashley exchange curious 
looks more than once.
After everyone was there, John said, "Let's have the kids go upstairs for a 
movie."
Ashley led the way, and Cole, Maddie, and Jessie traipsed up the stairs behind 
her. "Let's watch Cinderella, okay, guys?" Maddie was the leader among the three 
cousins.
"Cinderella's for girls." Cole's voice trailed as they reached the top of the 
stairs and turned down the hallway.
"'Cept the prince!" Maddie's voice squeaked with sincerity. "He's a boy!"
The happy noises faded and John gestured toward the family room. "Let's all sit 
down."
Kari and Ryan took the loveseat near the window, and Brooke
238 
and Peter sat at one end of the sofa; Landon saved a spot for Ashley at the 
other. John helped Elizabeth to the front of the room, where he eased her into 
one of two overstuffed chairs near the fireplace.
He took the chair next to Elizabeth's and sucked in a quiet breath. God... give 
me the words. Elizabeth had asked him to do the talking, and he was of course 
willing. Now it was a matter of getting through the night without breaking down.
Normally with this many of them gathered together, conversations would be 
breaking out across the room--laughter and the sharing of anecdotes from the 
week. Not tonight. If anything, they each seemed lost in their own world, 
nervous about whatever the meeting might involve.
Ashley bounded down the stairs and ran lightly through the dining room. She took 
her spot beside Landon. "Did I miss anything?"
"No." John made a light cough. 'Kari could you call Erin and Luke three-way, 
please. You know their numbers, right?"
The tension in the room doubled. "Sure, Dad." Kari did as she was asked,
John caught a glimpse of Elizabeth. Her cough was worse, but she was using the 
sleeve of her sweater to muffle the sound. When she looked up, he tried to see 
past the gaunt hollows on her cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. He 
focused on her eyes, eyes that were as filled with peace and serenity as they'd 
been four days ago.
She was coughing up more blood with each day, and he'd had a phone conversation 
with Dr. Steinman. 'The blood.., it's related to the cancer, rightT"
The doctor sighed. "John, you know the answer. She's endstage. I don't know how 
else to say it."
"What about chemo?" Again John had known the answer, but he had to ask, had to 
know if there was something they could do, something other than watching the 
days pass knowing they were her last.
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"We could try it; it might buy her a few weeks."
"But she'd be sick, right? The whole time?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Worse than before. She'd be bedridden the whole time." The memory of the 
conversation faded and John looked at Elizabeth again. She was up, able to walk 
beside him still, though not as fast as a week ago. But this had to be better 
than putting her in bed, violently ill. Especially if the miracle they were 
praying for didn't come through.
And John had his doubts. Not about whether God heard them. He did, of course. A 
dozen miracles in their family alone proved that much. But what about now? The 
idea that God would let her get worse even after the surgery was hard on him. 
Too hard to spend much time thinking about. It was enough that Elizabeth felt 
peace; his would have to come later.
Kari held up the phone. "I have them both on the line." "Good." John leaned 
forward. "Put them on speaker, okay?" Kari pushed a button on the phone. "Hi, 
guys. You there?" "I'm here." Erin sounded anxious, her voice giving expression 
to the way they were all obviously feeling. "Hi, everyone."
A round of halfhearted hellos passed around the room, but Elizabeth hung her 
head and bit her lip.
John took her hand in his. "Luke, you on?"
"Yeah." He hesitated. "Reagan's here beside me." A muffled sound came across the 
line. "What's up, Dad? Everything okay with Mom?"
"I was about to ask the same thing." Erin paused. "It's hard not being there in 
person."
"Yes. I'm sorry about that, too. I just felt we couldn't have this meeting 
without all of you here. And this--" he looked at Elizabeth, checking on her, 
making sure she was holding up okay-- "this is the only way we can all be 
together for now."
"Dad... we'll all be there next week, right? Getting ready forthe Sanabel
Island."
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John held his breath. There was no turning back now, no way to let them go on 
believing everything in their world was going to be okay. The truth had to come 
out, and after the next few minutes, nothing about their family would ever be 
the same again. He exhaled. 'That's what we need to talk about." He tightened 
his grip on Elizabeth's hand. "Your mother and I have decided to hold the 
reunion here at the Baxter house."
Relief flashed in Ashley's eyes. "I think that's a good call. We have a lot 
going on this month, and with Mom still getting her strength back--"
"Ashley." John held his hand up. He had to get the next part said or he wouldn't 
say it. He'd run from the room and down the driveway or behind the house and 
across the stream, as far as he could get away from the stark reality of what he 
was about to say.
"We didn't cancel the trip to Sanibel for convenience."
The room was silent.
Elizabeth inhaled and coughed twice.
When she was finished, John met the eyes of each of his kids and their spouses. 
"Your mother's cancer is... it's worse than we hoped, worse than we told you 
before." Every word felt like a blow to his gut, a crippling blow that 
threatened to drop him to his knees. It wasn't really happening, was it? He 
wasn't really telling them that Elizabeth was dying, that they were about to 
lose their mother. He squinted for a moment and then looked around again. "They 
didn't get all of it when they operated."
"We know that, Dad." Kari dug her elbows into her knees and looked from him to 
Elizabeth and back. "What's changed?"
'Her tests show the cancer's in her lungs." John's voice was raspy now, strained 
with the emotion.
Around the room he measured their reactions. Kari hooked her arm through Ryan's, 
her mouth open but silent. Ashley hung her head and gripped Landon's knee as his 
arm went around her. Brooke folded her arms and hunched forward some. Peter's 
hand was on her shoulder.
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Elizabeth coughed again and kept her gaze down somewhere near her feet.
"Anyway..." John massaged the muscles in his neck. His head was spinning and he 
felt sick to his stomach. "Her doctor thinks it's even worse than that. He 
thinks maybe it's spread to her pancreas and her--" His voice broke. An ocean of 
sorrow welled in his throat and he couldn't say another word. He planted his 
elbow on his thigh and placed his fist against his brow.
As he did, he felt Elizabeth beside him, felt her hand on his shoulder, her 
soothing fingers near the base of his neck. She meant to comfort him, but her 
touch only made him sadder than ever. Not because of the news they were telling 
the kids, but because the news was true. And in far too few days, her hand on 
his shoulder wouldn't be a comfort to him.
It would be a memory.
The moment her husband's composure broke, Elizabeth made a decision. No matter 
how hard it would be to tell the kids the truth, it would be worse to watch John 
suffer through the process. She closed her eyes for just a moment. Okay, God... 
it's me. We can do this.
"What your father's trying to say is that the cancer's throughout my body." She 
looked around the room and gave each of her daughters a sad smile. "We've made 
some decisions and we want you to know."
A stream of tears started down Ashley's cheeks.
"Mom... can you talk a little louder; it's hard to hear." Erin's voice was 
high-pitched, as if she was crying, too.
"Yes, sorry." Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Dr. Steinman says it doesn't matter 
what I do at this point. He sees my condition as terminal."
There it was. The death word out there for all of them to hear, in Case they had 
any doubts where this conversation was headed.
242 
"So, what's the treatment?" Luke's voice was less urgent than matter-of-fact.
Elizabeth felt a tug in her heart. He was so like his father. "Any treatment 
we'd do would leave me very sick and bedridden until
the end. It wouldn't save my life. Do you understand that, Luke?" "I understand, 
but what if they're wrong?"
"Mom, you know they've got lots of options now." Brooke slid to the edge of the 
sofa, eyes pleading with her. "There must be
something they can do."
'There is."
'Good." Kari dabbed her fingertips beneath her eyes. "Tell us what it is."
"It's the same thing I'd like each of you to do from this point
out."
John let his hand fall to his legs and he looked at her. He was more composed 
now, ready to field questions if she couldn't. She gave him a quiet nod; she 
could do this, Since her moment of peace with God, she could do it maybe even 
better than he could.
The room was silent, each of them waiting for whatever it was she wanted them to 
do. She coughed once and then willed herself to stop. "I'd like each of you to 
honor my decision not to seek treatment. The cancer is in my lungs, my pancreas, 
my lymph system, probably my liver. It's an aggressive cancer."
She paused but not long enough for any of them to protest. "Dr. Steinman said my 
condition is terminal either way--with or without surgery or chemo. The 
difference--" another cough--"the difference is how I'll be able to spend my 
time." She gestured to the chair and each of those sitting around her. "Sitting 
up and in conversation with you." She looked at John and put her hand over his. 
"Taking walks together, sharing memories." Her eyes found the others again. "Or 
sick and flat on my back, too weak to leave my bedroom."
Brooke's eyes were red. Hayley sat in her wheelchair a few inches away, quieter 
than usual, as if even she understood how
243 
serious the situation was. "When they say terminal, what are they meaning? Two 
years? Three?"
Elizabeth felt her expression soften. "The doctor gave me three or four months."
"Three or four--" Kari covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes betraying her 
shock.
"Mom . . .'" It was Luke's voice. "Did you say three or four years?"
Ashley answered for her. "Months, Luke. She said three or four months."
Kari was the first to move. She crossed the room and knelt near Elizabeth's 
feet, holding on to her legs and hanging her head. "Mom ... no! Please, no."
A few seconds later Ashley and Brooke joined the small circle, and Elizabeth 
felt their grief like a wall around her. Across the room, Peter and Landon and 
Ryan stayed motionless, staring at the ceiling or down at the floor. Anywhere 
but at Elizabeth and her daughters, clinging to each other, crying.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and savored the moment, memorizing the way it felt to 
have her arms around her daughters, remembering how they'd always come to her 
when they were upset ever since they were little girls. They clung to each other 
now, comforting one another as the reality settled in. Elizabeth had expected 
more of an argument, an insistence that she have surgery or seek treatment, 
whatever might buy her more time.
Instead they had honored her request, believed that if their doctor father 
hadn't seen a benefit in surgery or medication, neither could they. She was 
dying; the facts were out in the open for all of them to deal with.
Erin's voice broke the silence. "You could still respond to chemotherapy..." 
Erin was obviously crying. Her nose sounded stuffy, her voice tinny.
"No, dear. Dr. Steinman doesn't think it'll do any good." Elizabeth ached to 
hold her, to have her be part of the cluster of girls gathered at her feet.
244 
"Okay, but--" panic colored Erin's tone now--"but they have other drugs, newer 
drugs, right?" 
"Erin, dear?" She spoke loud enough so both Erin and Luke would hear her. "The 
only thing that would change my diagno sis now is a miracle." 
"Then we'll keep praying." The sound of Erin's sniffing came over the phone. 
"Let's pray now." It was Landon, and he looked around the room, then bowed his 
head. After a minute he opened his mouth and the words came. "God, you're a 
miracle maker. We know that; we've all seen it happen right around us. Ashley, 
Luke, Peter..." His voice filled with sadness. "Even Hayley. So, God, heal 
Elizabeth please. She's everything to this family, the heart and soul of who the 
Baxter family is. John needs her; we all need her. Please, God... give us a 
miracle." 
A chorus of amens passed around the room and over the speakerphone. 
"Thanks, Landon." John nodded to him. "We're nothing without our faith." 
"Yes, thanks, Landon." Elizabeth looked around. "Thanks to 
all of you who are praying for me. I know it's helping; I can feel 
it." 
"Really?" Ashley looked up at her, her cheeks tearstained. "Really." Elizabeth 
didn't mean it in the way they would take it, but it was true. Her physical 
condition wasn't better, but men tally, spiritually, she was doing very well. 
Even now. And it was the most positive thing anyone had said that hour. 
"Okay, I need to change the subject." Elizabeth steadied her self, forced her 
lungs to remain calm despite their constant ten dency to slip into a spasm. 
"Erin and Luke, I'm asking you to keep your plans to come here on the third of 
July, but we'll have the reunion here instead of Sanibel Island, and then on the 
nine teenth we'll have Ashley's wedding. Will that work for you?" 
"Of course." Luke was quick to answer. His voice was thick and again Elizabeth's 
heart hurt. She hated telling them this 
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when they were so far away. But it was more important that Luke and Erin hear it 
firsthand--the way their siblings were hearing it.
Erin's voice was muffled for a moment. "Sam can't be gone that long, but he'll 
join us on the eleventh and stay for the wedding."
"Perfect." The now-familiar peace from the past few days worked its way over the 
raw edges of Elizabeth's heart. July would be heavenly, time for conversations 
and board games and walks near the backyard stream. They would get to know 
Erin's new daughter and talk about the upcoming wedding and take pictures of 
everything. They would laugh and, yes, maybe a time or two they would cry.
But at least they would be together in the place she loved better than any 
other. The old Baxter house.
"I love you, Mom." Luke's tone was strained. "Reagan says she loves you, too. 
We'll be there on Thursday, and we'll keep praying." He hesitated. "You can beat 
this, Mom. You're strong that way."
"He's right." Erin sounded more determined. "Sam and I will keep praying, but 
you have to believe you can survive, okay, Mom? I love you. We all love you."
"Okay." Elizabeth stroked her hands over the heads of her girls, still gathered 
around her--Kari's and Ashley's and Brooke's. "I love you, too."
John held his hand out to Ryan, who had been holding the phone. Ryan stood and 
handed him the receiver, and John pushed the Speaker button off. "Luke and Erin 
. . . you're off speakerphone now." He walked with the phone into the kitchen 
and talked in hushed tones.
Ryan leaned over and said something to Peter and Landon, something Elizabeth 
couldn't quite make out. Almost at the same time, the guys all nodded, stood, 
and crossed the room toward her. One at a time they hugged her and uttered words 
of
246 
REUNION
hope and quiet promises to keep praying. Then the three men went together into 
the foyer to wait.
Kari came closer and hugged her, keeping her face close while she said, "I love 
you, Mom. I'm... I'm sorry about all this." She took a step back. "It's late; 
Jessie needs to get home. We'll talk
more tomorrow."
"Okay."
Brooke hugged her next, stood, and nodded. 'God isn't finished
with you yet, Mom."
"I know, honey."
Ashley waited until Kari and Brooke were halfway up the stairs, then huddled a 
little closer. "Now I know why I've been feeling strange around you. I knew 
something was wrong, Mom. Something you weren't telling us."
Until now, none of the kids had mentioned that fact. They had looked past the 
idea that they'd been kept in the dark for a few weeks. But because of the 
wedding, because of the time they'd spent together lately, Ashley was bound to 
be more perceptive than the others. Elizabeth ran her fingers over Ashley's 
hair. sorry. I wanted to wait until after the wedding."
"I guessed that." Ashley hugged her and held on for a while. With Ashley in her 
arms, Elizabeth was overcome by more emotion than at any other time tonight. She 
would miss her children so much, miss the closeness she had with each of them. 
She held on tighter, longer, trying to imagine saying good-bye to Ashley for the 
last time this side of heaven.
It was tragic, really, that Ashley had no idea how much the two of them actually 
had in common, how often she looked at Cole and thought of her own firstborn, 
the young man who had been on her mind and in her prayers since her diagnosis.
No wonder she felt a special connection to Ashley, especially in the past few 
years since Landon had worked his magic on her heart. They had lost too much 
time after Paris, back when Ashley felt like an outcast. Maybe if she'd been 
honest with
247 
kingsb u ry s m alley
Ashley about her own past, they would've made peace years sooner.
Elizabeth cast the thought from her mind. Time was short for all of them; 
backtracking would never make a difference now. She pressed her cheek against 
Ashley's. "I love you, honey. I always
have. So much."
"Me, too."
They held on a while longer, and then the sound of the children-groggy and 
overtired--came from near the front door.
Ashley got up. "I'll be by tomorrow." She dabbed at the runny mascara beneath 
her eyes and looked more serious than before. "Don't hide things from me, Mom. 
We can get through anything together, okay?"
Elizabeth nodded. She was exhausted, Too tired to move. She stayed seated, 
watched John follow Ashley into the foyer, listened while they spoke with him in 
hushed voices. When he returned he held up the receiver and put it back on its 
base. "They said they'll call you later."
She looked up, worried. "Are they okay?"
John stopped, and his frame seemed to wither some. His expression told her he 
couldn't answer the question. "Of course not," he whispered. 'None of us are. We 
can't lose you, Elizabeth."
She held out her arms to him. "John..."
Looking beyond weary, he worked his way closer and sat on the arm of her chair. 
"It's true." His chin quivered. "We'll never be okay again."
"Yes, you will too." She kissed his cheek and brushed a piece of his hair off 
his forehead. "You know why?"
He exhaled and seemed to summon a bit of strength he hadn't had before. 'Why?"
"Because God loves you even more than I do."
248 
249 
Erin cradled Heidi in her arms and stared at the pile
of clothes on her bed. It was Tuesday, July 1, and she'd stayed busy as possible 
since the phone call with her family shopped for the trip one day, bought a 
bigger suitcase an errands another, and spent an entire afternoon at the park 
other moms from church.
Not once did she talk about her mother to anyone.
It was simply more than she could believe, more than she could take in. The last 
time she'd seen her mother, she'd been fine. The picture of health. Slim and fit 
and cancer-free. No one knew that she 
had three or four months to live.
No, Erin wouldn't believe it.
All her life she'd wanted children, and more than that, to share them with her 
mother. She was the youngest daughter the one who had stayed at home longer than 
any of the other girls. Now that she was grown up and married, nothin changed at 
all. She still called her mother when she was upse spent hours on the phone with 
her, asking her for advice about diaper rash and formula and the merits of 
various baby toys.
250 
REUNION
Since her mother's surgery, Erin had called less often. She worried that her 
mother needed her sleep, her time to recuperate.
But never did she worry that her mother was dying.
Heidi squirmed and began to cry. She was a quiet baby, with none of the health 
problems that can accompany a child who hasn't had prenatal care. The only time 
she cried was when she
wanted a bottle or a nap. At the moment, it was the bottle. The crying became 
more incessant.
Erin gave one last look at the stacks of clothes, then turned and headed for the 
kitchen. "Okay, sweetie, just a minute."
She started preparing the bottle, thinking the whole time not of her mother and 
the cancer and the death sentence she'd been given, but rather about what she 
was going to pack.
She and Heidi would be gone three weeks, at least. They would need summer 
clothes, warmer outfits for the sometimes- cool nights, and church clothes. 
Heidi would need her car seat and her swing and a bag of squeaky toys and 
rattles. She'd have
to pack several bottles and burp rags and blankets.
The list seemed never-ending.
With the bottle warm and ready to go, Erin sat down at the table, cradled Heidi 
close, and began to feed her. At the same instant, a few feet away the phone 
rang. Erin stared at it for a moment, not wanting any more bad news. Finally, 
she slid her chair closer and without disturbing the baby, she balanced the
bottle until she had the phone on her shoulder.
"Hello?"
"Yes, hello, Erin." It was the social worker. "I have some interesting news for 
you."
Erin's heartbeat stuttered. She stood and walked to the nursery. "Yes?"
"Candy Santana is in jail in Dallas facing a life sentence." "What?" A burst of 
adrenaline rushed through her. She sat in the old rocker, the phone pinned 
between her shoulder and her cheek. Heidi was content, taking the bottle as fast 
as she could.
251 
The social worker released a deep sigh. "Apparently she ran out of drugs. She 
left her baby with a neighbor woman and took a bus to the house of some drug 
dealer in Dallas. The two of them dealt together and did drugs for the past few 
weeks. Then late one night the guy she was with took her to a rival drug 
dealer's house. I guess the rival owed him money. Anyway, he gave her a gun and 
told her to wave it around so the other drug dealer would take them seriously."
Erin could hardly believe what she was hearing. She closed her eyes, anxious for 
the social worker to get to the point of the story.
"So Candy was high on drugs, waving a gun around, and somehow it went off. The 
bullet ricocheted off the ceiling and hit the man she was with, hit him right in 
the chest." The social worker paused. "The man bled to death before help could 
arrive, and Candy's facing half a dozen charges."
She went on to list the things Candy faced: manslaughter, certainly; reckless 
use of a handgun; intent to deal, since police found bags of marijuana and vials 
of cocaine in her purse. The list went on, and in addition to everything else, 
she was being
charged with abandonment of her children.
"Abandonment?"
"Yes. The neighbor woman had the baby all this time. We didn't find out about 
Candy's arrest until the neighbor finally called our department and wanted to 
know what to do with the baby. 
Erin held Heidi close, trying to imagine Candy's baby left behind like an old 
sweater. But her sinking feeling gave way to a burst of sudden joy, a feeling 
that maybe there was another reason why the woman had called. Maybe she and Sam 
were going to have a second chance at the baby, but if so, how would they handle 
two newborns at the same time?
The questions pelted Erin's heart like hail but only one found its way to her 
lips. 'What are you doing with the baby?"
252 
REUNION
"Well . . ." The woman's voice fell a notch. "That's why I'm calling, Here's the 
situation .... "
It was Luke's last day of work before summer.
Since the job was an internship, he'd arranged with his boss to take off all of 
July and part of August. When he started back up before the fall session at 
school, his position would no longer be connected with the university but rather 
a part-time job. One Luke hoped would turn into something full time as soon as 
he had his law degree.
"Take a break, Baxter." His boss stuck his head in the conference room and 
grinned. "You work too hard."
"Okay." He'd been comparing contracts ever since he came in, just before lunch. 
But that was a good thing. 13usy meant he wasn't thinking about his mother, 
about the fact that she might be dead by Christmas. Even sooner.
He stretched, grabbed a bottle of water from the office lunchroom, picked up a 
stack of documents from the secretary's desk, and headed for his office. He had 
a few phone calls to make before he started on the next contract. Odds and ends 
his boss liked him to take care of.
But once the door was closed behind him, Luke sat at his desk,
caught a glimpse of their family photo, and suddenly it hit him. His mother was 
dying.
As healthy and vibrant as she looked in the picture, her body was not healthy 
anymore. It was riddled with cancer. The trip he and Reagan and Tommy were about 
to take wasn't a reunion at all; it was a farewell tour. He closed his eyes and 
tried to imagine all of them gathered around the Baxter house, finding separate 
ways to tell their mother goodbye.
Prayer, right? Wasn't that their only hope? Luke swallowed, nodding to himself. 
Of course it was. They would all pray until
253 
kingsb u ry smalley
God answered them. Beg God night and day, if they had to. That was the answer, 
wasn't it?
Luke stared out the window at the building across the courtyard. What about the 
last time he'd begged God for something? It had been September 11, almost two 
years ago. Reagan's father, Tom Decker, had been working near the top of the 
twin towers when the terrorist attacks happened, and Luke had begged--absolutely
begged--God that somehow Mr. Decker would live. But that didn't happen.
Reagan's father died along with three thousand other people, and the reality had 
shaken Luke to the core. He'd made so many bad decisions since that awful time; 
every one of his rebellious choices had come after that.
In some ways, Luke wanted to warn himself now, that begging God for a miracle 
would only set him up to fall again, to spiral into another dark chasm of 
unbelief and bad choices. How was this time of desperately begging God any 
different from that time?
A sense of peace washed over him.
It was entirely different. God had taught him so much since September 11, so 
much about the hard truths of life. That it was a fallen world, that terrorists 
had free will the same way any believer in Christ had free will, that death 
happened even to nice guys like Tom Decker.
Maybe even to his mother.
But still he would pray, because otherwise he had no hope at all. He would ask, 
because God loved him, and God heard his prayers. In the end, God would decide 
the number of days his mom had left. But no matter the outcome, Luke would never 
again lose faith in God. Never.
He shifted his gaze to his desk and the ten or so pictures he kept there. His 
father had been nothing but strong on the phone, but he had to be struggling. 
Short of a miracle, his wife of thirty- five years was about to leave him alone. 
And then what? Would
254 
R E U N 1 0 ",
his father stay in the big house by himself? Sell it and take an
apartment in Bloomington?
Luke shuddered.
It was impossible to think of his parents separated, one without the other. Yet 
that was the way of life, wasn't it? One day, decades down the road, he and 
Reagan would have to face that kind
of loss the same way any couple who stayed together faced it. Time was a thief; 
that much was certain.
He let his eyes skim over the photographs, taking in the pictures one at a time. 
It took a while, but eventually he realizd, something wasn't right. The 
black-and-white picture of his parents was missing, the one taken back when they 
first met. Maybe, it fell off his desk and got stuck along the wall.
He stood and pulled the desk out a few inches, but it wasn't there. The drawers, 
maybe? Sometimes things fell off his desk and into his drawers. He sat back 
down, pulled open the drawer, and searched inside. Nothing. The second and third 
drawers turned up nothing either.
Luke lowered his brow. Why in the world would one photo of his parents be 
missing? And who would've come into his tempo- rary office and taken it?
The answer was obvious.
No one. No one would go to his desk, sort through his pictures, and take just 
the black-and-white photo of his parents. Obviously it had fallen or gotten 
knocked over. He slid his chair back. The picture had to be somewhere.
Dropping to his hands and knees, he scanned the floor beneath his desk, and even 
the narrow bit beneath the bookcase. The picture was nowhere.
Slowly he lifted himself to the chair again and looked more around the office. 
Only then did he notice the trash can. It sat just beneath his desk, directly 
below the place where his photos were arranged. Suddenly it was clear what had 
happened. The night cleaning crew must've been dusting his desk and knocked the 
picture into the trash can. Them when it came time
255 
kingsb u ry s m c lie y
to change trash bags, they must've wrapped it up with the garbage without ever 
realizing that the photograph had fallen inside.
A sick feeling came over Luke.
The photo wasn't a copy; it was the real thing. A keepsake his mother had given 
to him when he moved to New York. She had told him that she wanted the picture 
to remind him that his parents had loved each other a long time. And that in 
some ways as a young couple they were very much like Luke and Reagan.
The picture was gone, lost in the trash, probably in a landfill by now.
Luke opened the bottle of water and drank half of it down. He needed to make the 
phone calls and get home. That way he could pack and start counting down the 
hours until their flight back to Indiana. He could hardly wait to see his 
mother, to know for himself that most of what he'd already heard was 
exaggeration, the way a house full of women often exaggerate.
He could go through his parents' photo albums, find another photo like the one 
his mother had given him, and make a copy. The picture could be replaced; at 
least he hoped so. Time with his mother, that was priceless.
Especially now.
256 
257 
The Manhatten shoot was just about wrapped up, and Dayne Matthews could hardly 
wait. After his quick trip to Los Angeles, he'd placed both photos on the top 
shelf of the coat
closet in his Manhattan apartment.
Out of sight, out of mind.
At least that's what he told himself when he showed up for work that Monday and 
every day after that. He had no idea what to make of the strange resemblance in 
the two photos. They couldn't be the same person; things like that simply didn't 
happen. The fact was, everyone had a twin. He'd heard people in show business 
talk that way more times than he could remember. Casting directors would want a 
Robert Redford type or a Ben Affleck look-alike. And always they could find 
them. Why? Because everyone had a double out there, someone who looked just like 
them.
That had to be the explanation for why his birth mother looked so much like Luke 
Baxter's mother. It would also explain the strange way he and Luke looked alike. 
After all, Luke had to be ten years younger than him, at least. There was no way 
the resemblance was anything but coincidence.
258 sbury smalley
His birth mother was probably in Alaska somewhere, no the area until he found 
Dayne. "And you, Matthews. York City. k I've seen from you yet. 
Congratulations!"
Either way, as soon as he hid the photos in his closet pumped his fist in the 
air. Sarah Whitley was standing better, more able to concentrate on the matter 
at hand--a Iim, and he looped his ar,m around her waist and swung million-dollar 
picture, in which he was the star. At this p]iircle. "We did it, baby!' his 
career he couldn t afford to be anything but right thers began milling offthe 
set i different directions, but much as he was the media's golden boy today, 
they woulrked her fingers into his hair. 'Yes, we did!" She kissed
on him in a heartbeat if he churned out a flop. ]are on the lips.
And it was up to him. He owed it to the director, the prol people hT, oted and 
howled as the kiss continued, but
the supporting cast, his leading lady, Sarah Whitley. All ofayne drew back, he 
and Sarah were both laughing. were depending on him, and he wouldn't let them 
down.tHe gave a shake of his head.
He had decided one thing. The day the shoot was over, '11 teach you to forget to 
kiss me." She raised her eye- he headed back to Malibu and his place on the 
beach a uhry and suggestive, as she turned and walked toward other shooting they 
still had to do in California and in ;r. Looking back over her shoulder, she 
winked, and her Columbia, he would go to Luke Baxter's office once mcl look was 
replaced by the gold-mine smile he was more would return the photo he'd taken 
and explain the stranith. "See you tonight."
Luke's mother looked like the woman who had given bin lifted one hand and held 
it there, watching her go. No He would ask a few questions,just in case maybe 
the two \ Sarah Whitley had been playing with him these past were related 
somehow. And then he'd put the entire ord=s. She would linger next to him after 
a scene was over,
of his mind forever. "ith him, teasing him, pushing him on to his best perfor 
Today was that day. "he director frowned on relationships during the shoot,
Shooting would wrap up any minute, and Dayne hathat it was over...
from everyone on the set that this picture was going to m," he muttered. Then he 
turned and headed for his strongest yet. He glanced at his trailer. He had the 
photo inside his leather portfolio, waiting just inside the door. azas the 
hottest leading lady in Hollywood and maybe, if
"Okay, people." The director stood up and brushed hilt his cards right, after 
tonight she'd belong to him. At together. It was the first time he'd smiled all 
week. "I'm h', while, a few months, maybe six. As long as most of his say that's 
a wrap." He pointed at a group of extras milling d relationships lasted. few 
yards away. "We need to take another go at that all(tter how great she was, his 
thoughts of Sarah vanished the one where you're the patrons running out of the 
ba.s he opened his trailer door. He'd had his agent call trance of the bar. It 
wasn't clean the first time, but I'm su3ier to make sure Luke's office would 
still be open early get it in the next hour or so." His grin inched its way 
cheeks. "The rest of you... . you're all invited to a dinner c' His agent hadn't 
sounded suspicious, just curious. the Marquis at seven o'clock tonight. You'll 
need your II-our interest, Matthews?" at the door." He clapped twice. "Good 
work, people." l:ng." Dayne had managed a lighthearted chuckle. 'Just
259 
looked around 
him, opinions ;tions about his 
nc motioned to e people might Above the small 
fans, and took 
ching. "Sorry." 
.r bill from his day. Thanks." pulled a slip of to Dayne. "For 
gh the lobby and aved him a bit of his head low and 
nerely nodded to toward the back )intment with Joe 
re on your way." ssed the office be- Luke Baxter's. He me, more sharply. toor 
and his heart 
.-ly cleared. 
, or maybe he was n't sure what to do 
260 
REUNION
a personal touch. Wanted to thank Joe for making that last contract come 
together."
"I see." His agent clearly approved. "Public relations, then; is that it?"
"Right."
The arrangement was made for five o'clock, assuming the shoot was wrapped up by 
then. Dayne only hoped Luke Baxter would still be there. He could hardly have 
had his agent ask for Luke, when Joe was his attorney. He grabbed the portfolio 
and considered changing clothes. His black T-shirt and jeans weren't so bad, but 
he didn't have a hat handy.
He shot a look at his watch. Four-fifteen.
Forget the hat. He grabbed the portfolio, stepped around the side of the trailer 
and out onto the streets behind it. His personal assistant would box up his 
things and make sure they were sent to his Manhattan apartment. He didn't have 
time for a hat or any other disguise. If he wanted to find Luke Baxter, he had 
to go
now.
His feet moved fast, keeping to the pace of commuter traffic along the busy 
street. Halfway to the attorneys' offices, three women walking toward him 
shrieked, "Dayne Matthews! Look, it's Dayne Matthews!"
He looked up, flashed his standard grin, and tried to keep walking. But across 
the street a group of tourists heard the cry and jaywalked over for an 
autograph. They were scrounging pieces of paper from their purses and wallets 
and looking for a pen when he realized it was better to stop and cooperate than 
to
lead a parade of fans through Manhattan.
"Hi." He smiled at the women first.
"Sign something for us, Dayne." One of the women jumped up and down and grabbed 
his arm. "You're more gorgeous in person than on the big screen."
"Thanks." He felt his cheeks get hot. No matter how often this happened, he 
could never get used to the idea of perfect strangers coming on to him, acting 
as if they were old friends. He
261 
kingsbury smalley
signed a receipt from the lady's shopping bag and looked around at what had 
become a small crowd.
All the people waiting had something to tell him, opinions about which of his 
films they liked best, and questions about his current movie, the one they'd 
just wrapped up.
The encounter took twenty minutes, and Dayne motioned to the nearest doorman 
when it looked like more people might cross the street to see what the commotion 
was. Above the small crowd he mouthed the word, "Help!"
The doorman nodded, parted the group of fans, and took Dayne by the elbow. 
"You're needed inside, sir."
"Yes." Dayne shrugged at the people still approaching. "Sorry."
Once inside, Dayne pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and tipped the 
doorman. "You saved my day. Thanks."
The man was older, probably in his fifties. He pulled a slip of paper and a pen 
from his pocket and handed it to Dayne. "For my daughter?"
Dayne uttered a single laugh. "Sure."
When he was done, he made his way through the lobby and out the other side of 
the building. The move saved him a bit of walking, but it was almost five 
o'clock. He kept his head low and
walked even faster.
This time when he arrived at the office, he merely nodded to the receptionist 
and gestured with his chin toward the back rooms. He never broke stride. "I have 
an appointment with Joe Morris."
"Very well, Mr. Matthews. I'll tell him you're on your way." "Thanks." Dayne 
turned down the hall, passed the office belonging to Joe Morris, and continued 
on to Luke Baxter's. He knocked once at the door, and then a second time, more 
sharply. When there was no answer, he opened the door and his heart sank.
Luke was gone, and his desk was completely cleared.
Maybe the guy didn't work there anymore, or maybe he was gone for the summer. 
Either way Dayne wasn't sure what to do
262 
REUNION
with the photograph in his portfolio. He couldn't very well leave with it or 
mail it back to the office later. After today he didn't want to think about Luke 
Baxter or the photo he'd taken from the guy's desk. Dayne glanced out the office 
door and down the hallway. No one was watching, no one was expecting him to be 
working a covert, possibly illegal, operation in the empty law office of some 
seasonal law clerk.
Moving quickly, he set the portfolio on Luke's desk, opened the flap, and pulled 
the picture out. He started to put it on the edge of the desk, where it had been 
the day he took it. But he stopped. It would look strange, standing there by 
itself. Strange enough that someone might connect his visit with the return of 
the photo. After all, Luke must have noticed it was missing. The entire office 
might be on alert looking for the picture of Luke Baxter's mother.
The shelf, that's where it would look more hidden. If he was lucky it would seem 
as if Luke had misplaced the photo, forgotten it in his attempt to clean out his 
office. Dayne checked the hallway once more and took quiet steps around the desk 
toward the shelf. He was breathing fast and he chided himself. The picture 
wasn't actually stolen--more of a loan, really.
He set it up on the shelf and started to back away. "Dayne?"
He jumped back and turned around. Joe Morris was standing in the doorway looking 
at him. "Morris!" Dayne hurried around the desk toward the door. "Hi... we 
wrapped up the shoot."
"The receptionist said you were coming back to talk to me." Joe looked past 
Dayne toward the desk, the shelving. He gave him a curious, partly comical look. 
"I thought maybe you got lost. My office is back down the hall."
"I know." He forced another laugh. "I kinda hit it offwith that
Luke guy.., thought I'd catch up with him."
"Oh." Joe shrugged.
"Yeah, we had a pretty good talk the other day." Dayne stud
263 
ied his attorney. If the man was suspicious of Dayne's actions, he didn't say 
so.
"Luke's a great kid." Joe hesitated. "He's accepted a part-time job with us in 
the fall. Off for the summer though. I guess he's got a lot going on back at 
home."
"Hmmm." Dayne's heart rate picked up. "A lot good or a lot bad?"
"I don't know." Joe waved his hand toward Luke's empty desk. "A family wedding, 
and I guess his mom's pretty sick."
"His mom?" Dayne pressed his portfolio against his side. "He didn't mention 
that."
Joe uttered a strange chuckle. "You only knew the guy for ten minutes."
"Yeah, but.. 2' Dayne caught himself. The whole thing was crazy. Why was he here 
at the office of some law clerk, and why had he taken the kid's photograph? 
Maybe Dayne needed a beach vacation, some time on a sunny stretch of sand 
without any directors or deadlines or movie shoots, no autograph seekers or 
paparazzi or any other distractions.
That way he could forget about the photograph and his birth mother and any 
resemblance she had to some stranger's sick mother.
Dayne gave a shake of his head and led the way out of Luke's office. "Anyway, I 
thought I'd stop in and thank you for the work on that last contract." He patted 
Joe's back and grinned. "Brilliant, man. Absolutely brilliant."
"Thanks." Joe rubbed his knuckles on the lapel of his suit coat. "That's my 
job."
The conversation shifted to the party tonight and Dayne's plans to hold on to 
the Manhattan apartment. After ten minutes, Joe gestured toward his office. 
"Another hour of work before I can go." He gave Dayne a light punch in the 
shoulder. "Keep it
up, Matthews. You're at the top of your game."
Dayne could hardly wait to leave.
Once out on the street, he kept his head low but he didn't care
264 
REUNION
if he was spotted, not really. As long as he hadn't been spotted putting the 
photograph back, the rest of the day couldn't be anything but gravy.
He took long strides as he headed for his apartment. It was ten blocks away, and 
he considered a cab. But he needed to think. Was that the last he'd know of Luke 
Baxter or his sick mother? He gazed up through the spaces in the buildings and 
wondered. What if by some strange twist of fate, the woman wasn't merely a 
look-alike? What if she was his mother, too?
The sun must've been lower because the air had cooled and the streets were 
covered entirely in shadows. No, the woman couldn't have been his mother. The 
pictures looked alike, but not exactly alike. Besides, it was only his 
imagination wanting there to be a connection.
If only he'd never met Luke, never seen the picture and felt that strange 
feeling, that somehow he'd seen the woman before. He had enough on his 
mind--endorsements and appearances and movie offers and romance--without the 
mind-boggling idea that maybe, just maybe, he'd found his birth mother.
Dayne made it back to his apartment without incident. He put thoughts of the 
sick Baxter woman out of his mind and changed for the dinner dance. It was time 
to party, time to celebrate the hard work he'd put into the film.
He was talking with one of the sound guys in the buffet line at the party when 
he felt someone breathe into his ear. He turned and Sarah Whitley was standing 
next to him. She wore a slinky white tank top and tight black jeans. On the set 
she'd played a plain girl from a small town, but here that image was gone 
completely. She was stunning, and Dayne felt himself react to her presence. 
"Hey... look at you."
She dropped her chin an inch or so and batted her eyelashes at him. 'I was just 
thinking the same thing." She let her gaze move slowly down the length of him 
and back up to his eyes. "Be my date?"
He gave her an easy smile. "You mean i might be so lucky'?"
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kingsb u ry s m alley
Her arm slipped around his waist and she snuggled close to him. "Definitely.'
They shared dinner and laughter and two large bottles of Dom Perignon, and when 
they left in his limo sometime after midnight, Dayne had no doubt how the night 
would turn out. The entire location shoot had been like one giant session of 
foreplay. A little flirting, intentional eye contacL casual touching and hugging 
and tickling. And of course the kiss. Though he'd messed it up they'd found a 
dozen times to practice, times when he would step into her trailer, catch her 
from behind, and give her a lip-lock that took her breath away.
Then earlier today when she'd kissed him in front of the entire cast.., yes, he 
knew where the night was headed.
Sarah helped him into his apartment, both of them stumbling and laughing and 
feeling the effects of the champagne. By the time they reached his bedroom, most 
of their clothes were strewn along the hallway.
When he opened his eyes in the morning, his head was pounding and Sarah was 
sitting dressed in the chair beside the bed. "Hey,'' she said.
'Hey." He rubbed his face and moaned. "What a night, huh?" Weah." She smiled, 
but he couldn't read her eyes.
He hated this part of his lifestyle. She was a beautiful movie star, a girl any 
guy would love to chat with for an hour, let alone share the night with. The 
drinking and partying and getting together parts were always easy, but this.., 
this awkward morningaftcr feeling was always uncomfortable.
Questions hung in the ar between them.
()kay,, so they'd slept together. Did that mean they were an item now? committed 
o each other somehow? ready to move m together? And because of their celebrity 
status, there were other issues. Had anyone from the media seen them together 
after the party, photographed them in the limo, or watched them head up to his 
apartment?
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If so, it would be on the covers of the tabloids within the month.
Sarah pursed her lips and drew in a long breath. "I guess we got kinda crazy 
last night, huh?"
"Yep." He sat up in bed. Last night he hadn't cared a bit for modesty, but now 
he felt uncomfortable without a shirt on. He adjusted the sheets and rested his 
arms on his knees. "You okay?"
"Sure." She gave a thoughtful nod. Her smile didn't quite make it to her eyes. 
"Dayne, I need to tell you something."
"Okay." His heart thudded harder than before. What was this? Surely she was on 
some sort of birth control. "What's up?"
"I liked working with you." She uttered a sad laugh and looked at the ceiling. 
When she met his gaze again, she shook her head. "It was great, really. But..." 
A short breath crossed her lips. "What I'm trying to say is, I've got a guy back 
in Hollywood. A director. We're sort of---" she moved her hand about in the 
air--"sort of exclusive."
"Oh." A strange mix of rejection and relief washed over Dayne. Relief because 
the news could've been worse. She could've told him she hadn't used birth 
control, or that she had some sort of disease. But rejection because what? She 
was exclusive with someone? So why was she climbing out of his bed this morning?
"Don't be mad, okay?" She wrinkled her nose, looking irresistible despite the 
hard night. "I like you a lot, Dayne. It's just . . the guy I'm seeing wants a 
family someday and, well..."
He understood. A bitter laugh worked its way through his chest. "I'm a playboy, 
right?"
"Kind of." She shrugged daintily. "Lots of fun for a few nights or a few months, 
but not much of a family guy."
Dayne wanted to point out that if she could enjoy his bed for a night, she 
probably wasn't much of a family girl herself. But he didn't. Instead he cocked 
his head and gave her a mock salute. "Glad to be of service. Anytime I can bring 
a little entertainment to an otherwise boring night."
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Sarah's cheeks reddened and she looked at the floor for a few' beats. "Hey." She 
looked up, her eyes filled with concern. "Don't say anything about last night, 
huh? My guy wouldn't understand."
Her guy? Dayne wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or tell her to leave. In 
the end he decided on the latter. He pretended to zip his lips together. "It's 
our secret." He nodded his chin toward the door. "Go ahead, Sarah, but use the 
back door. I'll stay another few hours so no one thinks anything.''
Her expression softened. She stood, kissed him on the cheek, and tousled his 
hair. "You're a good sport, Dayne." The corners of her lips lifted, and she 
winked at him. "Last night was awesome."
She was gone before he had time to sort through his feelings. Last night was 
awesome, but see ya later? What had she said? The guy she was exclusive with was 
more of a family type? And guys like Dayne were better for a night or a few 
months? Was that really what people thought of him?
He slid back beneath the covers and stared out the window. Ten years of 
Hollywood living flashed at him in as many minutes. Leading lady after leading 
lady, he'd gotten together with them and walked away when the thrill wore off. 
If that was his reputation--and it obviously was--then he'd done everything in 
his power to earn it.
His frustration at Sarah passed.
She had her own issues, certainly; otherwise she wouldn't have come home with 
him. But he couldn't be angry with her. Her thoughts about him were right. In a 
sense what she was telling him was "hey, thanks for the fun night, but a season 
of wild living is just a little too much for me."
She didn't want a playboy; she wanted a family guy.
The wordJmnily filled his mind and took up every bit of his consciousness. 
Family. A mom and dad, brothers and sisters. Wasn't that what he'd always been 
missing? A family to call his own?
268 
A memory began to form. He was sixteen, a sophomore at the Indonesian boarding 
school while his parents were on the mission field. A girl in his math class 
asked him how long until he'd see his parents again.
"Three months, maybe four," he'd told her. "Don't you hate it?" She tipped her 
head, pensive. "Hate what?"
"Not having a family." She leaned forward on her forearms. 'At leasl most of us 
have brothers and sisters, but you.., you're always alone." A sad look flashed 
in her eyes. "I'd be mad at my parents if they did that to me, you know, made me 
an only child
and then stayed away so much."
The memory lifted.
Even as a kid Dayne hadn't been a family guy. He didn't have the first idea how 
to be one. No wonder he hadn't stayed with anyone longer than a few months. He'd 
been alone, independent, as far back as he could remember.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the photo on his dresser, the only photo 
he kept visible anywhere in his apartment. It was a picture of his parents, 
dressed in khaki pants and tops, surrounded by village people, somewhere deep in 
the outback areas of Indonesia.
How come he hadn't remembered that he'd been adopted? In the back of his mind 
he'd always known, hadn't he? After his mother had shown him the picture of the 
woman who birthed him, the truth was out. He hadn't belonged to his parents from 
the beginning.
But somehow in his little-boy heart he hadn't wanted to believe anything but 
what was comfortable. His parents were his parents. Period. Never mind about 
some strange picture of a woman who had given birth to him. Not once until he 
went to the storage unit had he thought of her as his birth mother.
He studied the faces of the village people surrounding his parents. the people 
in the mission field were more family to his parents than he had been. His 
parents lived with those people, cared
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for those people, prayed for those people. All while he lived at the boarding 
school year after year after year.
Maybe he did have a right to be mad at them.
The picture of Luke Baxter's mother came to mind. What if by' some strange, 
bizarre coincidence she really was his birth mother? If so, then the pictures 
that covered Luke's desk were pictures that could've been his own, pictures that 
would've lined his dresser even now.
The thought exploded in his mind, tearing at his lifelong belief that he hadn't 
missed out on anything by not having a real family. Of course he'd missed out.
Sarah's words came back to him: "Not much of a family guy..." Unless maybe he 
did have a family somewhere. If not Luke Baxter's mother, then someone else. 
Whoever she was, she'd be in her midfifties now, something like that. According 
to the papers in the box, the adoption had been closed. She might're tried to 
find him and been unable to. Or maybe she was looking even
now.
Maybe fate had brought him into Luke Baxter's office that day, so that he'd be 
driven to the storage unit. Otherwise he never would've faced the fact that he 
had a birth mother or that maybe she was someone he wanted to find.
Dayne sat up in bed and stared at the telephone on the nightstand. Maybe if he 
found his birth mother, he would find a family at the same time. Then he might 
have a reason to give up his independence, settle down with a girl who had no 
ties to Hollywood whatsoever.
Before he had his mind made up, before he was certain this was something he 
really wanted to do, he picked up the phone and dialed his agent. "I need the 
number of a private investigator, someone I can trust."
His agent hesitated. "DayneT 
"Yeah, sorry." He leaned back against the headboard. The clock on his dresser 
read nine-thirty. "It's a little early."
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REUNION
'Right." Concern rang in the man's tone. "Why do you need a PI, Dayne. You can't 
afford to be in trouble, not now."
"No trouble." Dayne wondered how much he should say. Nothing, probably. If he 
did find his birth mother, the last thing either of them needed was publicity. 
He drummed his fingers on
his thigh. But if he couldn't trust his agent, whom could he trust? "So what is 
it, Dayne? Be straight with me."
"Listen--" he pursed his lips and blew out--"I was adopted, man. i guess in the 
back of my mind I always knew, but last time I was in L.A. I did a little 
research. Found some papers my parents kept."
"Okay." His agent sounded relieved. "So why the PI?"
There was no turning back now. He closed his eyes and worked his fingers into 
his brow. "I wanna find my birth mother. It's important to me."
A silence followed. '+Look, Dayne, I'm not sure that's a good idea."
+'Why?" Dayne leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"Because you're Dayne Matthews. That means whatever woman gave you up for 
adoption has no idea her biological child is a famous multimillionaire."
Dayne tried to make sense of his agent's argument. Then, gradually, a light 
began to dawn. "'You mean she might want money?"
She might want a lot of things. Fame, a slot on the nighttime talk shows." He 
made a sound that expressed his frustration. "What if she's a drug addict or 
locked away in some insane asylum? That would look good, wouldn't it?"
Dayne hesitated. His next words came slowly, laden with emotion. "What if she's 
got a beautiful family and all she's ever wanted was to meet me."
"Touche." His agent waited, his voice softer than before. "You really, want to 
find her?"
'Yes." This time when Dayne said it, he had no doubts. If his
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birth mother was alive--and he maybe even had a FAMILY out there--he wanted to 
know about it. "I want it quiet, though. That's why I need your help."
"You have some papers; is that what you said?"
'A whole box of papers. They're in storage in North Hollywood."
"Okay. Sit tight. I'll make a few calls and see if I can find someone who'll 
help you."
Dayne showered, got dressed, and made himself some eggs. The whole time he 
couldn't stop thinking about the chain of events that had led to this moment. 
Finally, just before noon, the phone rang. Dayne grabbed it on the first ring. 
"Hello?"
"I found someone. The guy works for entertainers, promises complete anonymity. 
He's been around, Dayne; he keeps his word."
"Can he find birth mothers?" Dayne's heart pounded so hard he thought it might 
come through his chest and bounce about on the kitchen floor. "Does he do that?"
"Yes. He's very good. Let me see here..." A rustling sound filled the phone 
lines. "Yes, adoption is one of his specialties. I put him on retainer for you, 
and he says he'd like the box of documents as soon as possible."
"Then what? How long will it take?"
"No guarantees, Matthews. All he can do is try."
"Okay." Dayne paced across the kitchen and back again. He thought of his 
attorney's words yesterday, how Luke Baxter's mother was sick. Of course, she 
was probably not his birth mother, but still. Whoever she was, he wanted to find 
her. Now. before another week went by. "But he's good, right? He has a good 
chance of finding her?"
"Yes, Dayne. He's good and very expensive."
"I don't care." He worked the muscles in his jaw. This was a new feeling, this 
determination. Strong and unyielding and bent on getting his way. "Whatever the 
cost, I've got to find her. I want to know who she is and why she gave me up and 
if she ever
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REUNION
wishes she hadn't done that. I want to know how my parents wound up with me, and 
what arrangement my birth mother had with them. I have dozens of questions."
"All while keeping the whole thing out of the press, right?"
His agent sounded doubtful.
"Right."
"All we can do is try." He hesitated. "But in the end, if someone ends up 
getting hurt over all this, Dayne, don't say I didn't warn you."
Dayne dropped to the closest chair and hooted out loud. "Thanks, friend." He 
hung up.
Dayne spent the rest of the day cleaning his apartment and packing for his 
flight back to Hollywood. The excitement bubbling within him was different than 
any he'd ever felt in his professional life. Better, somehow, than getting an 
Oscar nomination or a raving review" in People magazine. Better than knowing he 
could command top dollar for a film.
He was about to find his birth mother. How amazing was that? And how great that 
his agent had found a Pl who would keep things confidential. That way he could 
find out her identity, set up a meeting, and get to know her--if she was 
willing, that is. All without ever having the press find out about it.
No one would get hurt by this strange and unusual search. Dayne was completely 
convinced.
273 
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
The kids were arriving and no matter how bad she felt,
Elizabeth couldn't be sad or sick or tired or anything but happy. This was the 
reunion she had dreamed about since Erin and Luke moved away. No, they wouldn't 
go to Sanibel Island to bask in the sun, but at least they'd be together at the 
Baxter house, the way they hadn't been in nearly two years.
The very thought of it made her feel stronger than she had in a week.
And another good thing--they already knew about her cancer. After telling the 
kids about her sickness, Elizabeth had at first doubted herself, wondering if 
she should've waited until she had them in person before explaining the 
situation. But now that it was behind them, she was relieved.
Now they could locus on having fun together, making memories, and getting ready 
for Ashley's wedding. Yes, she was sick: she was probably dying. And there were 
entire days when the sorrow of leaving her family was so suffocating she could 
barely breathe.
But she wasn't afraid. Not since that day in her bedroom, the
274 
day God used a simple Scripture to speak so loudly to her heart. And as much as 
possible, she wouldn't be sad--not while the kids were around. The tears could 
come late at night or closer to the end--if this was the end. But for now she 
wanted to celebrate her family, every wonderful moment they'd ever had together.
Elizabeth was sitting in a chair in the living room, watching out the front 
window. Ashley was at the airport picking up Luke and Reagan and Tommy. She 
tilted her wrist and checked her watch. It hung on her bony wrist these days, 
but she wore it anyway. It was a gift from John, an anniversary present he'd 
given her seven, maybe eight, years ago. Even cancer couldn't make her take it 
off.
She looked out the window again and strained to see down the long country road 
that led to their house. It was two-fifteen, just about the time Luke's plane 
was to arrive. Ashley should be back with them no later than four o'clock. 
Brooke was going to pick up Erin and Sam and Heidi in two hours, and that 
carload would show up around six.
Elizabeth folded her hands on her lap. They were having the Spanish casserole 
tonight, the one that had been a Baxter family favorite since Brooke was a 
little girl. Earlier Elizabeth hadmixed together the filling--tamale sauce, sour 
cream, black olives, salsa, mushroom soup, and cooked chicken. The mixture was 
in the refrigerator, and all she had to do now was fill the tortillas, cover 
them with more sauce and grated cheese, and bake it.
For days, Elizabeth had been praying that she'd have the energy to fix dinner 
tonight, their first night home. Now, though she was somewhat tired, she was 
half done and grateful for the chance to cook for them again.
Funny how she was progressing, really. Her body was still recovering from the 
initial chemo, which meant that in some ways she felt better every day, more 
able to stand or take a short walk with John. But at the same time, the cancer 
was gaining ground, taking its toll on her breathing, most of all, and causing 
her to lose what little weight she still had.
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kin gs bu ry s m a lie y
A flock of birds drifted from one tree to another, soaring and dipping in unison 
across the field out front. How wonderful to sit here, looking across her 
property, waiting for her children to come home. What if she'd gone ahead with 
the second surgery? Elizabeth shuddered and pressed her arms against her sides, 
warding off the sudden chill. She would've been lying in bed, drugged to ease 
the severe pain, suffering through a minute-by- minute existence. The entire 
visit would've gone by without her ever enjoying a bit of it.
For what? Dr. Steinman was one of the top oncologists in the state--John had 
known that much. If he was certain a second
surgery wouldn't have helped, then there was no question she'd made the right 
decision.
Elizabeth smiled to herself; it was the only decision, really, since her cancer 
was progressing so quickly. Of course, she was still praying for a miracle, but 
Godin all his mercy--had been placing something new on her heart recently. 
Miracles didn't always come in the shape of a dramatic healing. Maybe her 
miracle was having this time to quietly ponder the wonderful life they'd all 
shared together, the joy of being married to the man of her dreams all these 
years, the reward of being Mom to each of her kids.
And of course the miracle of this reunion, the chance to be together even if it 
was the last time.
Elizabeth reached for the portfolio, the one she carried with her whenever she 
had a chance these days. The letters were almost written, and that was another 
miracle. That she'd had the time and energy and health to put on paper her 
thoughts for each of those she'd spent a lifetime loving.
She opened the cover and pulled out the letter for the children; she was working 
on Erin's part now. John was at the store getting food for the weekend, so she 
could write for an hour or so. Write and gaze out the window and look forward to 
seeing Luke and Erin and their families.
Life couldn't he much better than that.
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REUNION
Ashley recognized them even from far away, her handsome brother and his pretty 
wife. She waited near the front of a crowd of people gathered near the airport 
security system, her eyes stinging. It hadn't been that long since she'd seen 
him. Except for Brooke's husband, Peter, they'd all been together last December 
for Luke and Reagan's wedding.
But so much had changed since then.
No matter that they were getting together to celebrate her own wedding this 
time; they couldn't kid each other about the bigger situation. Unless God 
granted them the most extraordinary miracle, their mother wouldn't live through 
the summer; this would be the last time they'd all be together with her.
Ashley watched her brother draw closer, watched him search for her, and then 
spot her. He smiled big and Ashley felt a tug in her heart. She would always 
feel a special connection to Luke, despite their hard years after her time in 
Paris. He was the kid brother who had spent most of his waking childhood minutes 
with her.
Luke had one hand on Tommy, who was snuggled in a front pack against Luke's 
chest, and his other hand around Reagan's waist. She reached Ashley first and 
gave her a quick hug. "Ashley! You look great!"
It was Luke's turn. Because of the crowd milling past, his hug was rushed also. 
"Look at you!" His eyes were shining, telling her how happy he was for her. 
"You're going to be a stunning bride, Ash."
They started walking, but Ashley reached for Tommy's finger. "My goodness, he's 
huge." Her nephew had turned one the month before and he seemed twice as big as 
last time they were together. She smiled at Reagan. "What are you feeding him?"
'Everything we can get our hands on." Reagan laughed.
a chunker all right."
277 
"Yep." Luke made a silly face at his son. "He'll be a football player like his 
Uncle Ryan."
"Where are Landon and Cole?" Reagan peered around Luke and the baby.
"They stayed home. Landon was off today; he took Cole looking for a tux for the 
wedding."
"I always knew he'd make the perfect dad." Luke patted Ashley's back. "It's 
about time you figured it out too, big sister."
Ashley loved the small talk, the way it felt to simply be together again. But 
her stomach hurt because she knew what was ahead. They made their way to the 
luggage area and found a quiet place off to the side. Reagan took Tommy from 
Luke and rubbed her nose against his blond head. Off for a diaper change." She 
made a crooked smile. "My favorite part of being a mommy."
They chuckled as she and Tommy headed toward the restroom. When they were alone, 
Luke turned to her and his smile faded. "Okay, tell me, Ash. How is she? 
Really?"
This question had been coming since he stepped off the plane; Ashley could tell 
that. She had planned to smile and nod and give some sort of reassuring answer. 
But this was her Luke, her brother, the one who could look into her eyes and see 
straight to her soul. Ashley opened her mouth, but no words came. Her eyes found 
Luke's and held them.
Grief and sorrow and fear came together and shaded his expression. "It's bad, 
isn't it?"
Without warning, the tears came. They spilled from her eyes down her face, and 
all she could do was go to Luke, hold him close and tight so her heart wouldn't 
break in half. Of all the Baxter kids, Luke was the one who understood her best, 
and now that they were losing their mother, he was the one who would know her 
pain better than anyone.
"Luke..." She spoke his name against his chest. she looks awful. You... you 
won't recognize her."
He held her close, stroking her hair and rocking her. "I should've come sooner."
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"No." She sniffed and pulled back enough to see him again. "Actually it was 
worse before, during her chemo." Ashley dropped her gaze for a moment before 
looking at him once more. "It was awful, Luke. She was so sick."
So . . ." His eyebrows raised a bit, hopeful. "She's getting better? That has to 
be a good thing."
Ashley shook her head. 'She's not getting better. She's recovered from the 
chemo, but she's wasting away." Her chin quivered.
'You'll see, Luke. It scares me how bad she looks."
he searched her face. 'What are we going to do?"
"I don't know." She hugged him again. "I really don't know."
They were quiet as they found the luggage and met up again with Reagan and 
Tommy.
"Are you hungry?" Ashley pointed to a snack stand nearby.
"It's a long drive; we can pick up something if you want." "I'm fine." Reagan 
cradled Tommy in her arms.
"Let's go straight home." Luke's tone was somber as they headed for the parking 
lot. "Mom's probably got dinner going."
"She does. She's definitely waiting for us." Ashley dried her eyes and uttered a 
soft laugh. 'Counting the minutes."
"Well, then, let's hurry." He slipped one arm around Reagan, the other around 
Ashley. "I don't want to waste a single one."
He picked up the luggage and started walking. His steps were purposeful, almost 
fearful, and Ashley hurt for how he would feel when he saw their mother. But 
despite all the sorrow and the potential loss ahead of them, she couldn't help 
but feel a ribbon of excitement weave itself across her heart.
They were all going to be together, just like old times. The kids would laugh 
and run and play together in the field in front of the old Baxter house. The 
adults would talk about the past and share long hours of silliness and 
conversation. And after they'd spent a couple weeks together, the greatest thing 
of all would happen. The thing that kept her going despite her mother's 
sickness.
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kingsb ry smalley
All of heaven would sit back and smile and she, Ashley Baxter, would really and 
truly marry Landon Blake.
Elizabeth was in the kitchen with John when she heard voices at the front door. 
The casserole was in the oven, and she was watching John prepare the salad.
He looked up from the salad. "They're here." He gave her a questioning look. He 
knew how badly she wanted to seem well tonight. "You ready?"
She frowned and smoothed her hands over her apron. The sound of the 
grandchildren in the background doubled her energy, but she was still, worried. 
Luke hadn't seen her since she'd lost her hair. The navy beret and matching 
bulky sweater and pants did the best job yet of making her look like her old 
self. But still her appearance had changed; there was no hiding that fact.
John took a step closer and kissed her on the lips. "You look beautiful, 
Elizabeth." He took her arm in his. "Let's go say hello."
Elizabeth rounded the corner and stopped short. They looked so happy, so healthy 
and full of life. Ashley had stopped to get Landon and Cole, and now Cole was 
jumping up and down trying to make his little cousin laugh. Right behind them 
were Kari and Ryan and Jessie.
And Tommy... the boy was huge, the exact image of Luke at that age.
Luke noticed her first. "Mom . . . hi." His expression went from thrilled to 
shocked in as much time as it took him to tell her hello. But Ashley had 
obviously prepared him for the moment. He managed a smile despite the conflict 
that showed in his eyes. 'I like your hat."
"It's not a hat, Luke." Ashley bopped him on the shoulder. She grinned at 
Elizabeth. 'It's a beret, right Mom? The French would be appalled."
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"Hi, everyone!" John crossed over to Reagan and Tommy and hugged them both at 
the same time. Then he shook Luke's hand and pulled him into a long embrace.
Whatever John was saying to Luke, Elizabeth couldn't quite make out. She came a 
few steps closer, trying not to look tired or worn out. "Reagan, you look 
lovely, dear." She hugged her daughter-in-law and blinked twice to keep her eyes 
from tearing up. 'Thanks so much for coming."
Reagan angled her head, her own eyes glistening. wouldn't have missed it."
"And look at Tommy.' She kissed her grandson on the forehead and held out her 
hands.
"He's a brute, huh, Mom?" Luke helped transfer the baby from Reagan's arms to 
Elizabeth's.
Up close, Tommy looked even more like his father. Elizabeth slid him onto her 
hip. The weight of the child sent a sharp pain through her torso, but she 
ignored it. Nothing was going to keep her from holding her grandson. Tommy 
pointed to her hat and smiled, showing off four little teeth. With her free 
hand, Elizabeth
hugged Luke. "This is exactly how you looked at his age." "Was I a chunker like 
him?" Luke pulled back, but just a bit. "Definitely." Elizabeth laughed and 
looked back at Tommy. As she did she saw the resemblance again, but this time no 
Luke. To her firstborn, the one she was still praying about daily "Yes, he's a 
Baxter."
Cole skipped up and tugged on Elizabeth's sweater. "I'm not the only boy now, 
Grandma. Isn't that the bestest thing you ever heard?"
She tousled Cole's hair and smiled at Ashley and Landon nearby. "The absolute 
bestest thing, Cole. You'll like him even better in a few years when you can 
teach him how to catch frogs."
The group fell quiet as sorrow seized the moment. If the that was right, 
Elizabeth wouldn't live to see l+ommy gro\ tip. to cheer when Cole taught him 
how to calch his [i-st Iro.
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"Okay." John gave a light clap and turned toward the family room. "Let's come on 
in and get settled. Dinner's in the oven, and Brooke'll be here with Erin and 
Sam and Heidi around six."
Time flew as they sat around, catching up on Luke's work at the 
entertainment-law office and hearing about the online courses Reagan had been 
taking. She wanted to work as a copy editor for one of the publishers in New 
York City--a job she could do from home on a part-time basis.
"And what's the situation at the law firm?" John sat next to Elizabeth, his hand 
in hers. "You have the whole summer off, but they want you back in the fall?"
"Right." Luke was on the floor holding his hands out to Tommy, who was just 
learning to walk. Reagan sat in the closest chair, ready to catch the boy if he 
fell. Cole was trailing behind him offering words of encouragement.
"Sounds like a nice group of people." John gave a single nod. "And entertainment 
law, of all things. So interesting."
Luke picked up Tommy's pacifier from the floor and set it on the table. "The job 
started out as an internship, but I connected real well with the attorneys." He 
shrugged. They want me to work on a more regular basis starting in September, 
and after I have my law degree, they're talking about giving me a chance with 
some of their clients."
"Are they all movie stars?" Elizabeth loved this, loved hearing her grown son 
talk about his career, loved watching him interact with his wife and son. Things 
were so different than they could've turned out. So different from the way 
they'd been in the months after the terrorist attacks.
"Most of the clients work in the industry, but they're not all movie stars." 
Luke grinned and looked at Ashley. "Did I tell you Dayne Matthews came in a 
while ago?"
Ashley laughed and leaned a little closer to Landon. "The Hollywood playboy, 
huh?"
"Actually--" Kari slid forward, bouncing Jessie on her knee--"he's not too 
shabby."
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"Hey..." Ryan gave her a gentle elbow in the ribs. "What's this now?" 
"Don't worry, honey." She laughed and winked at Ashley. 'Dayne Matthews doesn't 
hold a candle to you." 
"He sure has a bad reputation with the women." Ashley ges tured to Cole, and he 
came running over, cuddling between her and Landon. 
"Yeah, I guess." Luke caught Tommy, turned him around and sent him toddling 
toward Reagan. "In person, he's not that bad, really. Stopped in to meet me and 
the two of us got to talking. He's just a regular guy when you're one-on-one 
with him." 
"Is he tall or short?" Elizabeth hadn't ever seen one of his films. She wasn't 
taken much by celebrity status, but if it in volved Luke or his job, she was 
interested. "Most actor types are short; isn't that right?" 
"He's actually pretty tall." Luke caught Tommy by the back of his sweatpants, 
tossed him in the air a few times, and set him back down again. "About my 
height, I'd say." 
"And did Luke get me an autograph?" Reagan held Tommy's bottle in the air in 
mock exasperation. "Of course not. Has one of the most famous guys in Hollywood 
in his office and forgets to get an autograph." 
They all laughed, and the conversation shifted to Ashley and Landon's wedding, 
where everyone could go for a tuxedo fitting, and how the reception was going to 
play out. Time passed quickly, and before long they were interrupted by the 
sound of more voices at the front door. 
"Erin!" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at John. "Now I can see that little Heidi 
Jo." 
Before John could help her, Luke was at his mother's side, easing her to her 
feet. He hadn't been maudlin or emotional, but he was fiercely protective of 
her. Even though it was another reminder of her illness, Elizabeth enjoyed his 
attention. She looped her arm through his and moved with the group into the 
foyer. 
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Even before she got there, she heard quiet gasps coming from the others. Brooke 
and Peter were in sight, standing there with Maddie beside them and Hayley in 
Peter's arms. The commotion must've been about Erin's new baby. That had to be 
it. When Luke and Elizabeth rounded the corner, they both stopped short.
Erin and Sam were standing near the door, but each of them was holding an 
infant. Between them stood two gorgeous little girls with blonde curls, wearing 
matching play, clothes.
Elizabeth's head began to spin and she held more tightly to Luke's arm. "Erin . 
. " She searched her daughter's face. Her words were breathless capturing the 
feeling of the moment as the other Baxters stood in a circle, grinning 
leafy-eyed, too stunned to talk. "What's going on
"Mom..." Erin's eyes were wet. She uttered a nervous laugh as she approached 
Elizabeth. "This is Heidi Jo."
"She's beautiful. " Elizabeth reached out and took the infant in her arms. John 
came up along one side, and with him and Luke supporting her, she lifted her 
eyes to Erin, waiting.
"This is Amy Elizabeth.' Sam held the infant in his arms so they could all see 
her sweet face, Then he grinned at the little girls, both shy and quiet, who had 
taken up positions on either side of him and were now clinging to his legs. "And 
these two are Chloe and Clarisse."
Elizabeth's knees were weak. She handed Heidi to John and held her hands out to 
Erin. Her throat was so thick, the words would barely come. "You have . . . four 
babies?"
They-fell into each other's arms, hugging and rocking and hearing six 
conversations strike up around them. "Erin Elizabeth whispered into her youngest 
daughter's ear, "I'm so happy, for you. I didn't think--" she swallowed, willing 
herselt not to Break down--"you always wanted a Big family. I didn't think I'd 
live long enough to see it happen." She sniffed. so good to us."
The group stayed that way, each of them meeting the new
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children and making introductions with Maddie and Hayley and Cole and Tommy and 
Jessie. Kari and Ryan took turns talking to Chloe and Clarisse, and then the 
group shifted and Ashley and Brooke knelt down to meet them.
All the while, Elizabeth held on to Erin, listening to the story: how the social 
worker had called a few days ago, and how the girls' grandmother had become the 
legal guardian because of Candy's arrest, and how the older woman had called 
social services to find out if Erin and Sam were still interested. Not only in 
the baby, but in the other two sisters too.
Erin wiped at her eyes. "If we were willing to take all three girls and still 
give her chances to visit them, the grandmother was willing to sign over her 
rights. She wants to work on a cruise ship and travel." Erin gave a disbelieving 
shake of her head. "She said she thought the girls needed a real family, and 
that Sam and I could give that to them better than she could."
"So . . ," Elizabeth brushed her hand against Erin's cheek. "You have four 
daughters." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that."
"Yes, Mom." She hugged Elizabeth close again. "Just like you."
"Just like me."
The group started migrating toward the kitchen. Elizabeth called out in the 
happiest voice she could muster. "John... I think we'll need a few more plates 
at the table."
He grinned at her and nodded his approval. "That's what reunions are all about."
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Their mother's decline happened right before their eyes, and quicker than any of 
them had expected. Least of all Ashley.
Those first few days of being together, Mom was her old self: upbeat, energetic, 
the one starting conversations and keeping them going. And there was so much to 
talk about. Erin's new girls, Kari's pregnancy, Hayley's progress, the wedding. 
And all the changes and stages the kids were going through.
The one thing their mother hadn't wanted to talk about was her health. "We can 
talk about that later." She'd give them a partial smile. "Besides, without more 
tests, there's nothing new to talk about. Right now I feel good, and that's all 
that matters."
The day before had been Elizabeth's roughest since she'd gotten sick. She 
couldn't get through a sentence without coughing, and twice she'd disappeared 
into her bedroom for a few hours.
Ashley had gone to check on her once and met her father coming out of the room. 
"How is she?" But the question wasn't necessary. Her father's face was a mask of 
sorrow and fear, a look Ashley had never seen him have in all the years she was 
growing up.
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"Not good." He'd closed the door quietly behind him. "She's coughing up a lot of 
blood?'
"No!" Ashley's stomach tightened. "We can't let that happen, not now. She wants 
to be with us so badly." She took her father's hand. "Let's get her to the 
hospital, Dad. There's gotta be something they can do."
He shook his head. "There's nothing. Cancer like your mom has is so wicked, it 
literally takes over the body and suffocates a person." He slumped against the 
hallway wall. "We have to keep praying, but it's time to make some hard 
choices."
"Choices?" Ashley's heart had slipped into an irregular beat. They weren't 
really talking about her mom this way were they? Not when she had been perfectly 
fine a few months ago.
"Pain meds." Her father'd hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's 
in a lot of pain, Ash. The cancer's tearing up her insides. That's why she's 
been spending time in her room, Praying... trying to tolerate the pain without 
resorting to medication."
"That's crazy." Ashley worked to keep her voice low. "If she needs medicine she 
should take it."
"It's not that easy." Her father had led her away from the bedroom. "The 
medication would make her sleepy, too groggy to get out of bed most of the 
time."
Ashley felt sick to her stomach. No wonder her mother hadn't said much that day. 
She'd been trying so hard to mask her pain, she had worn herself out.
Now it was Monday morning. Today's plan was for everyone to meet at the house 
before noon and have a picnic on the back lawn. Ashley had intended to use the 
morning to work on a painting for her mother--one based on a photo of the Baxter 
family taken at Luke's wedding. But as soon as she woke
Ashley had wanted to be only one place.
At the Baxter house with her mother.
She and Cole had a quick breakfast and arrived at the house at nine. Her father, 
Landon, and Peter were scheduled to work that
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day, so other than Ryan and Luke and Sam, the picnic would involve the women and 
kids. But when she pulled into the driveway she saw her father's car.
Before Ashley had time to think it strange that he'd still be home, she knew. 
Her mom must be worse; there was almost no other explanation. She pushed back 
her fears, parked the car, and followed a bouncy Cole into the house.
"Hi, everyone! We're here!" Cole leaned his head back and made the announcement. 
He looked around, then turned to Ashley. "Mommy, yesterday there were a hundred 
people here. Now where are they?"
She caught her son's shoulder and whispered to him. "Let's be quiet, Cole, okay? 
Grandma might be sleeping."
"Oh." His eyes got wide and earnest. "But where's all the people?"
Ashley smiled. Cole would've done great as the oldest in a family with eight 
kids. He was loving the commotion and crowded conditions of the reunion. Lots of 
aunts and uncles and cousins; Landon always around; Grandma and Papa taking it 
all in. He knew nothing of how sick his grandma was, only that this time with 
family was the best thing in the world.
She dropped down to his level. 'Maybe they're still asleep."
"Who's here?" Cole was whispering now, but his excitement still ran through him.
"Aunt Erin and Uncle Sam and their girls are in the guest rooms upstairs; Uncle 
Luke and Aunt Reagan are sleeping with Tommy in my old room. Everyone else is 
still at their own houses."
'Oh." Cole took a few steps toward the stairs. 'Can I go wake up Aunt Erin's 
girls? I think they wanna play."
Ashley was just about to tell him no, that they'd watch something quiet on TV 
and head outside to wait for people to wake
up, when her father walked into the room. He had obviously showered and shaved, 
but he looked weary. As if he'd been up all night.
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"Papa!" Cole shouted his name, but then dropped his tone to a loud whisper again 
when his grandpa smiled and held his finger to his lips. "What's everyone 
doing?"
He hugged Cole to his leg and ran his fingers over his hair. "Hi, Cole. 
Everyone's up." His eyes met Ashley's. "They're just trying to keep quiet for 
Grandma. She didn't feel good last night."
'Oh." Cole's expression fell. "Does she have a tummy ache?"
A sad smile tugged at the corners of her father's mouth. "Something like that."
"Can I watch cartoons?" Cole looped his hands around his grandfather's forearms.
"Yes, Cole. That's a very good idea." He took Cole's hand and got him situated 
in front of the television set.
Ashley watched her father and son, touched. With Landon marrying her, Cole would 
have a father now. Something he'd wanted as long as she could remember. But 
Cole's time with her father, with his "papa," would diminish some. The thought 
was both comforting and sad. Her father had never intended to raise a grandson, 
but during the early years, until Cole was four, her father had treated Cole 
like his own.
The idea that their relationship might change had never hit Ashley before.
Once Cole was distracted, her father gestured for her to follow him into the 
kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. "Some tea?"
"Sure, Thanks." Ashley leaned against the island countertop and studied her 
father. Something was wrong, worse even than yesterday. She waited until she had 
his full attention, until he was leaning against the opposite counter, looking 
straight at her. "You're supposed to be at work; what's going on?''
The sigh that came from her father rattled every nerve in Ashley's body. "She's 
worse, Ash. She's in a lot of pain."
Ashley clenched her teeth and stared out the kitchen window. "Why all of a 
sudden? Why would cancer do that?"
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"Because . . . it's spreading so fast her body can't handle it." Her father 
crossed his arms. "I called Dr. Steinman today and he said..." He was choked up, 
unable to speak.
She crossed the space and stood beside him, arm to arm. Her heart raced just 
beneath her T-shirt, and she wasn't sure whether to cover her ears or ask more 
questions. "What, Dad?" She laid her head on his shoulder. "What did he say?"
"I told him her symptoms, about the blood and the cough and the pain." Her dad 
looked at the floor. "He said she doesn't have long."
"But we know that already." Ashley bit her lip and willed him to make eye 
contact. "Three or four months, right?"
"No, Ashley." His arm came around her shoulder, the way he used to hold her when 
she was a little girl. 'It could be much faster. Weeks, maybe."
Ashley met his eyes, as shock and panic took turns kicking her in the gut. 
"Weeks?"
"She doesn't have long, Ash." He drew in a shaky breath. "And since we don't 
know, we need to think about the wedding."
Ashley couldn't believe she was having this conversation. She closed her eyes. 
God... what's happening? Help me, here, please. "Dad..." She looked at him 
again. 'You're that worried? You want me to postpone the wedding?"
He released his hold on her and took her hands in his. "Yes, I'm that worried." 
He looked straight into her heart, more serious than he'd ever looked. "But I 
don't want you to postpone it. I want you to consider moving it up. Getting 
married this weekend instead of next."
Ashley's head began to spin. Her mother was so sick she might not survive 
another ten days? Was that what her father was telling her? And how could they 
move the wedding up a week? "From the nineteenth, to the twelfth? Is that what 
you're saying?"
"Yes." John dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment. When he looked up, it 
was clear he was trying not to cry. "Your mother
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has spent years wanting to see you and Landon get married. I couldn't--" he 
struggled with his composure--"I couldn't stand the thought of her dying before 
your big day, Ashley. She has to be there."
Ashley was too shocked for tears. The idea of shifting the wedding was 
overwhelming, but nothing to the awful realization that her mother had such 
little time left. She wanted to run from the kitchen, down the hall, and into 
her mother's room. Wanted to crawl into bed with her and hold on to her so she 
couldn't ever leave them.
But the matter at hand was too pressing to do anything but face it. "How, Dad? 
We've spent all this time getting ready. How would we change it now?"
"I called in to my office and told them I wasn't coming in for a month or so. 
Your mother needs me, so I'm staying home. I can help." He took a slow breath. 
He'd been thinking about the idea of changing the wedding date for some time; 
that much was obvious. "I figure everyone will be here today; most of us have 
cell phones. We can call Pastor Mark at church and then the banquet coordinator 
at the lake club. I've been praying about this all night, Ash. I have a feeling 
God will open the doors and let us do this. Even at the last minute."
Ashley nodded, dazed. She felt like she was dreaming, going through the motions, 
that her heart and soul and mind were really only on autopilot. "So we start 
there, and then call the florist and the bakery and the tuxedo places? the 
alterations woman and the band we hired? the photographer and video guy? All of 
them?"
"All of them." Her father sounded more determined the longer he talked. "You and 
I can make a list and split it up when everyone's here."
Even though it felt overwhelming, the idea was starting to make sense. "What 
about the guests, Dad? We have more than two hundred and fifty people coming. 
People can't switch their plans this late, can they?"
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"If you explain the situation, you'd be surprised." Regret and sorrow mixed in 
his voice. "For something like this most people will go to amazing lengths to do 
their part to help."
"So we break up the list of guests and call each one?" "Right." He reached 
across the counter, took the kitchen phone from its base, and handed it to her. 
"The first call is to Landon. He needs to know what's happening."
It wasn't until Ashley heard Landon's voice that she broke. Emotion welled up in 
her heart and throat, and all she could say was his name.
"Ashley... what is it?" His concern was immediate. "Honey, is it your Mom? Tell 
me."
"Yes." She allowed two sobs, and then she took control again. The tears could 
come later; there was too much work to do to break down now. "Mom's sicker than 
we thought, Landon. Dad wants us to change the wedding date."
She explained the situation, how they would divide the phone calls and pray for 
a miracle--that somehow everyone involved could change their plans so the 
wedding would take place in five days. Landon was completely agreeable, of 
course, and worried enough that he wanted to come over.
"No, Landon. Stay there at work; we'll make the calls." She hesitated. "Could 
you make one call, though?"
"Anything, Ash." His tone was filled with sadness, and she wanted to hold him 
more than she wanted her next breath.
"You made the honeymoon plans, so could you call the travel agent?" It was a 
part of the arrangements that would be most difficult to change. The part that 
would make the nightmare more real than any other. She still had no idea where 
Landon was taking her, but now maybe it would be better to cancel the trip.
"When--" Landon paused, his tone heavy--"when should I reschedule it?"
Ashley couldn't think of an answer. Giving him a date meant guessing when her 
mother would be dead and gone. Finally she
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found her words. "Let's cancel it, Landon. We'll take a honeymoon later, okay?"
"I was thinking the same thing. We can't pick a date."
Her father had cancelled the trip to Sanibel Island and gotten a full refund. 
Hopefully Landon would be able to do the same thing. She walked to the family 
room With the phone, where Cole was still watching TV. "Maybe we could take a 
trip on our one-year anniversary."
"I like that." Landon's voice was tender. 'I'll get off work as
soon as I can and meet you there, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'll be praying, Ash."
"Thanks. Me, too."
But as she hung up she realized something. In the past twenty- four hours her 
prayers had changed from asking God for a miracle healing to asking him for a 
different kind of miracle for her mother. A miracle wedding. Because at this 
point, all they could ask the Lord was that the wedding and its many details be 
changed to the twelfth, and that her mother be well enough to attend.
That, then, would be miracle enough.
Elizabeth still wasn't afraid.
As sick as she was, as awful as she felt, fear was not one of the emotions 
running through her heart and mind. Instead the feelings inside her were 
familiar ones. Like those she'd felt when she and Kari took a trip to New York 
City the summer before Kari's senior year of high school.
In the weeks before the trip, Elizabeth had felt a slow buildup of nervousness 
and concern, a sense of wanting to be ready and at the same time a commitment, a 
knowing that once they stepped foot on the plane there would be no turning back. 
At the gate the feelings had been more intense than ever, and whe
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John had taken them to the airport she felt a sorrow and longin and yes, 
excitement, mixed with the other feelings. Not because,e she was afraid; she was 
never afraid to fly.
But because the journey would separate John and her for season.
Somehow dying was like that. A sense of nervousness and finality and sorrow 
because for a season, they wouldn't be together.
It was just before noon and John was helping her get dressed She didn't care 
about the pain or the coughing or any of it, as long as she spent the days with 
her family. She sat forward and John lifted her hand, placing it through the arm 
of her sweater. It was supposed to be eighty-five degrees this afternoon with 
almost as much humidity, but she was freezing cold.
"Is everyone here for the picnic?" She winced as he helped him slide the sweater 
over her frame. Bruises had started appearing. all over her torso, another sign 
of the progression of the disease.
"Yes." John gave her a pained look. "They don't mind cominp, in here to visit. 
Maybe you should rest."
Elizabeth wanted to get frustrated, but the action would take too much effort. 
Instead she kept her tone patient. He meant well; he just didn't understand her 
urgency. "No, John. Get my beret, please, and then let's get out there."
He did as she asked, and together they made their way toward the family room. 
"Are they making the calls?"
"Yes." His steps were slow, and she could sense a helplessness in him. John 
Baxter, strong in every sense of the word, the one whose faith and character had 
been a rock for this family since its beginning, couldn't do anything about her 
cancer. Couldn't pray it away or will it away or fight it with knowledge and 
determination.
She could tell by his tone, his frequent sighs and edgy mannerisms, that the 
fact was taking its toll on him.
When they reached the family room, Ashley rushed to her side. "You won't believe 
it!" She had a list in her hands. "The
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church and reception are both moved to this Saturday. The church was open and 
the banquet coordinator was able to move a few smaller parties to other rooms, 
so the main dining hall is ours."
Elizabeth squeezed John's hand and smiled at Ashley. "God's working with us; he 
knows what we need."
The others stopped what they were doing and watched her. The looks of fear and 
concern in their eyes were almost more than Elizabeth could handle. She let John 
help her to the overstuffed chair, the one that was most comfortable for her 
now. Her eyes traveled around the room at her five children and Ryan. "Where are 
the kids?"
'Upstairs." Ashley glanced around the room. "They're watching a movie, sort of a 
quiet time. I told them they could run through the hose later. Sam's trying to 
get the babies to sleep in the other room."
Elizabeth nodded. John took a few steps back, and the silence around her grew 
more awkward. "Thank you for doing this." She met the eyes of each of them. "I'm 
sorry it has to be this way."
"Mom, don't be sorry." Erin came to her and took tender hold of her shoulder. 
"We're worried about you; that's all."
"Well, don't worry." Elizabeth ran bet tongue over her lower lip. Her mouth was 
constantly dry lately. I'm actually feeling a little better."
It was a lie, and she could see by their faces that all of them knew it. But it 
was enough to let them, one at a time, return the job of making phone calls. 
Elizabeth watched them pouring their energy into helping Ashley, and the love 
she felt in that one room was so strong it was a physical force.
She hated being the reason they were changing the wedding. Everyone would know, 
and she would have as much attention at the ceremony as Ashley and Landon, maybe 
more.
But inside she was secretly glad they'd made the change, glad she'd at least be 
able to be there. That evening when
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discussed the day over pizza, the reports were all good. The band had another 
event scheduled, but they recommended a wonderful disc jockey who happened to 
have a cancellation for Saturday.
The florist couldn't switch his date, but he worked out a deal with a competitor 
who had the day open. Nothing about the floral arrangements would change at all, 
and neither the original company nor the new one would charge them for the 
confusion.
All the guests but four could make the switch or were willing to rearrange their 
schedules to accommodate the new plan. Along the way, well wishes and promises 
of prayer were passed on to Elizabeth from everyone. The group was exhausted as 
they turned in or returned to their separate homes for the night, but it was a 
good kind of exhaustion.
The Baxters had done what Baxters do: they'd faced a hard situation and pulled 
together.
That night Elizabeth's pain was worse than ever. Tylenol was the strongest drug 
she would take, but she ached everywhere her body made contact with the bed. She 
tried thinking about the wedding and the way her family had worked so well 
together
today, but still she couldn't fall asleep.
Finally she had an idea.
She allowed herself to go back in time to the night at the University of 
Michigan mixer in 1967, and from that point on, she worked her way through the 
years, reminding herself of every miracle God had ever granted her. Her plan was 
to be so comforted by the host of blessings she'd been given that when she 
reached the current day she'd be able to fall asleep.
But sleep took her much sooner than that, for one very wonderful reason.
The list of miracles in the Baxter family history was so long and detailed, one 
night never would've been enough time to recall them all. Very simply, God had 
always been faithful to them. Even now, in her final days, Elizabeth had just 
one request, one crazy prayer that she lifted day and night before the Lord.
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That one day her firstborn would know her, or know of her. That he would 
understand deep in his being how much he was loved, how she had longed for him 
all of her life--even during the years when she had promised not to talk about 
him with anyone.
And somehow, as Elizabeth fell asleep, the pain dimmed from the joy of her 
memories. She was certain deep in her heart that one day--when God knew the time 
was right--he would answer her prayer about her oldest son, the one whose name 
she didn't even know.
God had been faithful time and tine and time again. That was the type of God the 
Baxters served. No, they didn't always get the answers they wanted. But they 
always got the right answers even now with her cancer.
If her firstborn needed to know about the Baxter family, God would direct his 
steps until that happened. God was always faithful.
He would be faithful in this,
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TWENTY-SEVEN
Ashley wAS NOT SURPRiSeD when she looked out the window the morning of her 
wedding day. The skies across Bloomington were bluer than she'd ever seen them. 
As if God himself had peeled back the cloud layers so the angels would have a 
better view of today's events.
She lifted the window and breathed in the sweet summer air. Most of the time she 
did her praying at night or while she painted. But the slow and wondrous 
realization that today she would marry Landon Blake, that her mother would be at 
the ceremony, that all of them would be there together, was more than she could 
hold in her heart.
There was nothing she could do but drop to her knees, and she did so, staring 
into the blue and knowing that every moment, every second of that day would be 
forever etched on her soul.
God... you did it. All those weeks and months when I thought I couldn't have 
Landon, when my past hung over us like a dark cloud, an. d yet here we are. You 
and me, God.
Tears filled her eyes, tears of joy and certainty and a glorious feeling she'd 
never known before. She'd always wondered about
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heaven, and as she stared into the sky she thought about Irvel. Was she watching 
even now? Did she have a front-row seat to watch Ashley give her heart to Landon 
the way she, Irvel, had
once given her heart to Hank?
Ashley hoped so.
She liked thinking that people in heaven had a window to earth, a way to see 
what they needed to pray about, but through the tearless veil of heaven's 
understanding. If that was the case, then her mother was certainly not going to 
leave them one of these days. She would watch over them forever. Not in the way 
of an angel, of course, because people and angels were entirely different. But 
in a prayerful way that would stand as a reminder to each of the Baxters that 
their mother could go, but she could never quite leave.
Ashley smiled. Irvel would be one of the first people to find her mother, once 
she passed from this world to the next. They would share tea, no doubt, and talk 
about the joys of loving one man for all their earthly days.
A breeze sifted through the window and dried her cheeks. It would be the best 
day ever, a day when for just a little while longer they could all be together, 
the day when God in all his loving mercy would have the last word in the drama 
that had been her and Landon.
Lord, thank you. I know you'll be smiling on us today; I can already feel it. 
Please, God, let my mother.feel it, too. Take away her pain so she can enjoy 
every moment. You say to ask anything in your name, according to your will, and 
you will hear. Please, God...
She glanced around the room and saw it standing in the corner. The painting 
she'd been working on since she found out the good news about her health. In the 
foreground were the backs of her and Landon--she in a flowing white dress, he in 
a dark suit. Between them was Cole, his little-boy, towheaded look, the one he 
was losing a little more each day. The three of them were holding hands, walking 
toward a brilliant sunrise that took up most of the painting. The colors were 
breathtaking, bright oranges and stun
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ning yellows, colors that represented the future they would have together.
She would give it to Landon tonight, when they were alone after the wedding. It 
would be one more moment to spend a lifetime remembering.
She rose to her feet, her eyes still on the brilliam blue sky. Then, as if she 
might burst if she didn't take action, she sprinted into Cole's room, threw her 
hands in the air, and squealed.
Cole moaned and the sound became a giggle. "Mommy, you look silly." He sat up 
and rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing?"
Ashley did a little circle dance and raised both fists into the air. "Come on, 
Cole, get up! We're getting married today!"
It was the strangest thing.
Elizabeth was sitting in the chair near her bed, watching her daughter's slip on 
their dresses, listening to their sweet conversation, and still she couldn't get 
over it. Ever since she'd awakened, the pain in her body was gone. Not 
diminished or lessened, not
that she was merely getting used to it.
Rather it was completely gone.
She was tired and weak; no doubt she'd lost more weight. That much was obvious 
when John helped her into her gray linen dress, tire one she'd picked out 
sometime after her surgery. She was dressed, ready to go, but with none of the 
pain she'd expected to feel. She could sit there with the girls, watching them 
get ready for Ashley's wedding, without feeling anything but complete joy.
Ashley was the first to ask her about it. "You look better today, Mom."
"I am." Elizabeth lifted her hands and let them fall back to her
lap. "I can't explain it, but I don't hurt like I did yesterday." The expression 
on Ashley's face changed. "Really?"
"Really." She ran her hands over her arms and legs. "The pain is gone."
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"Well, then--" Ashley bent down and kissed her cheek "let's have the best day 
ever."
Kari and Brooke and Erin and Reagan all had their dresses on. They worked each 
other's straps, helping with adjustments and making sure no undergarments 
showed. Earlier in the morning, a hairdresser from a small shop near the 
university had come and put the bridesmaids' hair up.
Each one of them looked like a vision, but none of them compared with Ashley. 
Her hair was a cascade of ringlets, pinned up in a way that was soft and 
delicate, with tendrils framing her face.
"Okay," Kari made a final shift of her dress. "It's your turn, Ash."
"Right." Ashley pulled a white garment bag from Elizabeth's closet, unzipped it, 
and took out the dress. She held it out as each of the girls gathered around, 
touching the skirt and admiring the needlework on the bodice.
Elizabeth coughed twice and held her hand out toward
Ashley. "I'm feeling well enough; can I help you, dear?"
The room fell quiet for a moment, and Kari sniffed.
"I'd love that, Mom." Ashley and the others moved the dress closer to Elizabeth.
At the same time, Erin was at her mother's side, helping her to her feet. They 
all lifted the dress and eased it over Ashley's hair. But Elizabeth wanted to do 
the buttons. She'd been thinking about this, practicing the move in her mind. 
Since her hands didn't hurt, she set to work on the bottom button and gradually 
worked her way up.
"Can you believe it, Mom?" Ashley had her back to her, but she angled her face 
so they could see each other.
"I know I can." Kari dabbed at her eyes. "Landon has loved you since the first 
day he met you."
Brooke smiled. "Sort of like you and Ryan."
"Yes." Kari's cheeks glowed and sloe smiled at Ashley. "You're beautiful, little 
sister. Wait till he Sees you."
Elizabeth kept working the buttms, steady by Erin's side.
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kin gs b u r y s m a lie y
"When you left for Paris, Ashley, I didn't know if you'd ever come back." Her 
words were thoughtful, drenched in the memory of those long-ago emotions. "And 
when you came home, I wondered the same thing."
"I'm sorry.' Ashley held her fingers to her eyes and murmered a sad-sounding 
laugh. "Glad my makeup's not on yet."
"No, I don't mean to make you sorry/' Elizabeth struggled with the buttons. She 
was tired, but nothing was going to stop her. She had dreamed about this moment 
too long to let anything get in the way. "I just mean look at how amazing God 
is. He kept Landon from going to New York City too early. If he would've gone 
when he was supposed to, he would've been in the twin towers that day."
"Like my dad." Reagan's eyes were damp also.
"Yes." Elizabeth paused and held her hand out to Reagan. "Like your dad."
Ashley breathed in and straightened herself. "I've thought about that."
"You see . . . God had a plan for you all along." Elizabeth looked at the other 
girls. "He always has a plan for us; either to give us a hope and a future here 
in this world. Or--" she smiled and waited for her emotions to level out--"or in 
the next."
"It is amazing how things work out." Brooke sat on the edge of the bed near 
Elizabeth. "'Hayley is doing so much better. Drinking from a cup, eating solid 
food. We could've lost her, but God wasn't finished with her yet."
"That's what it comes down to." Elizabeth worked the last few buttons together. 
She stopped to cough, but only for a moment. "He alone knows the number of our 
days, and until that moment, he always has a plan for us."
She fastened the last one and then held her breath. "Okay, turn around."
Kari picked up Ashley's train and fluffed it out behind her. Ashley made a slow 
spin to face Elizabeth. As she did, she smoothed out the front of the skirt and 
their eyes met. "Well..."
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Elizabeth covered her mouth, but only for a few seconds. "Ashley... you're 
absolutely gorgeous." She gave a slow shake of her head and put her hands on her 
daughter's shoulders. 'Remember what I said about God having a plan for us?"
"Yes." Ashley's eyes glowed, much like the rest of her. "You've always taught us 
that. God has a plan for his people as long as they draw breath."
"This---" her voice grew tight and almost too silent to hear-- "this is my 
miracle, Ashley. Seeing you get married. I'm still alive because God allowed 
this day to be part of his plans for me." She kissed Ashley's cheek. "What else 
could I ask for?"
Even as Elizabetb said the words, the answer came to mind. She could ask God to 
help her find her firstborn. But she quickly dismissed the thought. Here and 
now, seeing Ashley marry Landon would be more than enough.
The girls were talking a once again, marveling over the dress and the way Ashley 
looked in it. Whereas at one time in her life Ashley had worn beatnik clothing 
and refused anything even slightly mainstream, now she looked like she'd stepped 
off the cover of a bridal magazine.
They were all saying so when Cole burst into the room. He stopped when he saw 
Ashley, and suddenly his steps became slow and dreamy. "Mommy... you look like a 
princess."
"Thanks, honey." Ashley lowered herself to his level. "And look how handsome you 
are!"
The wedding was an hour away, and John had already dressed Cole in one of the 
upstairs rooms, the one where all the guys except for Landon were getting ready.
"I know. Papa says I look good and grown-up." His face fell some. "'Cept I'm a 
little nervous about my wedding."
Around the room the girls did a good job of hiding their smiles. Of course Cole 
would think it was his wedding. He'd wanted it even longer than Ashley had.
Ashley crooked her finger and rubbed it against Cole's chin. "What are you 
worried about, sport?"
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He angled his head and blinked. "I don't have the words yet." Kari, Brooke, 
Erin, and Reagan gathered closer. Ashley lowered her brow. "What words? You're 
the ring bearer, honey. You don't have to say any words at all."
Cole nodded his head emphatically. "Yes, Mommy. Landon said so."
Elizabeth pressed herself back into her chair, trying to keep from giggling.
"What did Landon say?" Ashley stood and took Cole's hands in hers.
They were a vision, facing each other that way. Cole drew circles on the floor 
with the toe of his shiny dress shoe. "He said after we say the vows, he'll be 
my daddy forever." Cole paused. "So what if I don't know the vows, Mommy. I 
haven't practiced like I practice my ABCs."
'Cole..." Ashley pulled him into a hug. "Landon and I say the vows, silly. You 
don't have to do anything but walk up with
the ring pillow and stand there looking cute."
"Really, Mommy?"
She kissed the top of his head. "Really."
"Goody!" He raised a fist into the air, all boy despite the fancy clothes. He 
started to turn around, but he stopped himself. "After the vows part, can I call 
Landon my daddy?"
Elizabeth felt a rush of tears, but she held them back. Name or not, Landon had 
been Cole's father for years now. Ashley had told them that Landon already had 
the papers filled out to officially adopt Cole once they were married. He 
couldn't have loved Cole more if the boy had been his own.
"Yes, Cole." Ashley's voice was thick when she finally found the words to answer 
him. 'Yes, you can call him Daddy."
John could feel the presence of God around them.
It had been that way since this morning when Elizabeth first re
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ported that for no reason at all, her pain was gone. But it was more than that. 
In some ways, Ashley's wedding represented a coda on the past years of Baxter 
life. Just four years ago there were more questions than answers making up their 
family. Questions concerning Kari and Luke and Brooke and Erin. Even the harder 
questions regarding Ashley. Now the questions had been answered. God had come 
through on every front except one.
Elizabeth was dying. She wasn't getting the miracle they'd prayed for, and one 
day--when the wedding was over, when everything was over--he would spend some 
time with God and try to figure out why. Why it was necessary for her to die 
when everything in their lives had finally worked out.
The questions he had for God didn't leave John angry, just confused.
But that time would wait. For Ashley was getting married and in spite of all the 
ways he couldn't understand what God was doing with Elizabeth,John could feel 
his presence all around them.
The ceremony was set to start in twenty minutes. All the other guys had gone on 
to the church, so just the women remained. John had hired a limousine for the 
occasion, a stretch that would seat him and Elizabeth, the bridesmaids, and 
Ashley and Cole.
He stood near the front door and cupped his mouth. "Time to go." Familiarity 
surrounded the moment. This was how he'd felt when Kari and Erin and Brooke got 
married. This rushed, exhilarated feeling that they'd entered a countdown. That 
in less than an hour he would give away his daughter, that when the day was 
over, she would bear another man's name.
And now he was doing the entire routine for the last time.
Erin led the way down the stairs with Elizabeth on her arm. "We're all coming."
A trail of his daughters and Reagan followed, each of them stunning. His eyes 
locked on to Elizabeth's and held. They had always been able to speak without 
words, and this moment was no different. As beautiful as the girls around her 
were, Elizabeth was the most striking. With her fashionable beret--this
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kingsbry smalley
blue-gray like her dress--and her delicate features, she was still the only 
woman who could take his breath away.
But her looks were nothing compared to her eyes, full and emotional and as 
intently aware of the significance of the moment as he was.
"Elizabeth..." He held out his hand and she came to him. "You look wonderful, 
John." Her steps were slow, but her smile spread from one cheekbone to the 
other. The bridesmaids passed by them, hurrying along with Cole out to the car, 
giggling and remarking about the limo and how fun the ride to the church would 
be.
Ashley was last. She took both his hands and Elizabeth's and looked from one of 
them to the other. "If I've never said this before, I need to say it now." She 
bit her lip and her chin quivered. "Thank you for putting up with me, for 
believing in me when I didn't believe in myself."
"That's what parents do." John leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You look 
stunning, sweetheart."
"Thanks." She squeezed their hands. "We have to go. I just had to tell you that. 
Every time you prayed for me, God heard you." A grin flashed across her face and 
she gave a light shrug. "Can you believe it? I'm really getting married!"
She was gone in a flash, leaving John and Elizabeth alone. He angled his head. 
"Look at you, Elizabeth. Mother of the bride again and still pretty enough to 
make the bride jealous."
"You always know what to say, John. You always have." A light blush came into 
her cheeks. "Let's go. I don't want to miss a minute of this one."
The final minutes felt like an eternity.
After all the time Landon had waited for Ashley Baxter, these last moments were 
almost more than he could take. He shifted
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from one foot to the other, staring every few seconds at the back door, willing 
the music to start so he could finally see her.
The church was packed. Half the church was filled with his family, his parents' 
friends, and two dozen guys from the fire department. There were people he and 
Ashley had attended school with and doctors who worked with John Baxter.
Every one of them was obviously aware of the circumstances. That despite the 
happy occasion, the wedding had been changed because the bride's mother was 
dying, luke had already ushered his mother in, and she was sitting serenely in 
the first pew. No matter the illness that ravaged her body, the look on her face 
was pure, untainted joy.
How long had he loved Ashley Baxter? Many guests were aware of their history, 
how he had pursued her even when she seemed not a little interested. There were 
doctors from the hospital who remembered his injury in the Bloomington fire, the 
way Ashley had stayed by his bedside, proclaiming her love to
him, and then taking it back when he woke up.
Back then she was always so afraid to love.
But God had changed all that, and now, here they were.
The music changed and Landon felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed hard and 
clasped his hands behind his back, the way Pastor Mark had instructed last night 
at the rehearsal.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen came first, each of them wearing a look that was 
deeper than mere happiness. These were people who had prayed for him and Ashley, 
people who knew what they'd been through and how far they'd come, the obstacles 
God had removed to bring them to this day.
Landon had thought about asking some of his buddies at the fire department to 
act as ushers, but with Elizabeth sick, somehow it didn't seem appropriate. 
Instead he'd chosen the spouses of Ashley's sisters, and for his best man, Luke, 
the Baxter he'd gotten closest to during his time in Manhattan.
Erin and Sam were first down the aisle, followed by Brooke and Peter, and then 
Kari and Ryan. Luke and Reagan were last
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and since Kari was Ashley's matron of honor, she swapped places with Reagan so 
she'd be in the right spot. Luke caught Landon's eye and gave him a thumbs-up.
Landon grinned and looked at the rear of the church again. Cole was the ring 
bearer, and Maddie and Hayley were the flower girls. A lump grew in Landon's 
throat as he watched the tender procession. Cole pushed Hayley in her 
wheelchair. She was dressed in a white-and-pink dress identical to Maddie's. 
Cole's pillow was on her lap, and the flower basket on top of that. Maddie 
walked alongside the chair, taking small handfuls of rose petals from the basket 
and sprinkling them along the aisle runner.
Hayley didn't hold her mouth open the way she had for months after her drowning 
accident. Watching her now--the smile on her face, the way her blonde hair fell 
in ringlets around her head--it was easy to believe she might actually make a 
full recovery one day.
When the children reached the front, Cole pushed Hayley to a place along the 
front row near Elizabeth. He waved big and said, "Hi, Grandma. Did I do good?"
A few feet away, Pastor Mark stifled a giggle as a round of quiet laughter 
fanned out across the first few rows. Elizabeth leaned close to Cole. She looked 
beautiful, much like Ashley. But she was too thin. Much too thin. "Yes, Cole," 
she said in a loud whisper. 'You did great.
He nodded, proud of himself. Then he took the ring pillow and the flower basket 
from Hayley, handed the basket to Maddie, and led her to her place in front of 
Brooke, the way he'd been taught to do the night before.
Finally he spotted Landon--as if maybe he hadn't actually noticed him before 
because of his responsibility of pushing the wheelchair down the aisle. Cole 
gave a big wave, rocked the ring pillow under his arm, and took a few running 
steps toward him. Just then, Ryan gestured him over, and Cole stopped short, 
gave another wave to Landon, and went to stand with Ryan.
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The music changed again, and 'The Wedding March" rang out through the church. 
People stood and faced the back door, and Landon watched Elizabeth. She didn't 
have anyone sitting near her to help, but she was able to stand on her own. The 
look on her face was one Landon would remember all of his days.
And then, like a vision, Ashley was there. Holding gracefully to her father's 
arm, she started down the aisle. Landon had been to weddings--even Baxter 
weddings--where the bride glances at the guests while she walks down the aisle, 
taking in the family
and friends who were there in support.
But Ashley did nothing of the sort.
She found Landon's eyes the moment she stepped into the aisle, and her gaze 
didn't waver once while she walked alongside her father. Even from seventy-five 
feet away, he could read her look, feel how the truth was hitting her, the way 
it had been hitting him all day.
They were really here, really getting married.
Though she had run from him, hidden from him, refused his ring the first time 
around, and told him to fall in love with someone else, here they were. In love 
and determined to share every day of forever, thanking God for allowing them to 
find a way to be together. And now--looking more beautiful than she'd ever 
looked before--she was about to become his wife.
He prayed he could make it through the ceremony. Because the look of love and 
awe and adoration in Ashley's eyes was enough to bring him to his knees.
The entire walk down the aisle, Ashley couldn't stop thinking about the past. 
Yes, there was Landon, standing at the front, shoulders squared, eyes locked on 
hers. But at the same time he was coming into a coffeehouse, spotting her and 
telling her she should call him sometime. He was playing Frisbee with her on the 
shores of Lake Monroe and sitting beside her at a canpfire
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listening to her tell him details about her past that she'd never told anyone.
He should've been long gone by now, right? Wasn't that what people did when they 
found out someone they cared about had a sordid past? They disappeared--fast. 
But not Landon. She blinked, her steps slow and in time with her father's.
The image in her mind changed, and Landon was lying in a hospital bed, half 
dead, and her father was telling her to say something to him, to give him a 
reason to live, a desire to hang on; and then he was recovered and she was 
telling him she wasn't sure, didn't know if she could love him the way he wanted 
her to love him, and he was telling her he was leaving for New York City.
The pictures in her head blurred, but Ashley kept her eyes locked on Landon's. 
The same eyes that had loved every painting she'd ever created, the eyes that 
had held hers that night in Manhattan and asked her to be his wife. How was this 
happening after she'd told him no, after she'd rejected him so many times?
And it was Landon at Luke's wedding last December, dancing with her, telling her 
he loved her no matter what happened with her health; Landon coming up behind 
her at Irvel's funeral service and telling her he'd taken the matter out of her 
hands. He was back in Bloomington, and there was nothing she could say to make 
him go away. Landon... picking her up and swinging her around and around when he 
got the news that she wasn't sick after all.
Always Landon, every time. Loving her and bearing with her, putting up with her 
when no one else would've. What kind of love was that, anyway? A crazy, 
life-defining type of love that would see them through whatever the road ahead 
held. Even her mother's sickness.
They reached the front of the church, and her father tightened his hold on her. 
She gave him a quick squeeze and looked at Pastor Mark.
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"Who gives this woman to be married?" He smiled at Ashley and then at John.
Her father stood a little straighter. "Her mother and I do." He lifted her veil 
just long enough to kiss her cheek and whispered, "Love you, Ashley.
"Love you, Dad."
He circled behind her and took his place beside Mom. At last, Landon stepped 
forward, took her arm, and the two of them stood together in front of the pastor 
and faced each other.
This was the part where Pastor Mark would talk, and Ashley was sure he did a 
great job. Every now and then she caught something he was saying, something 
about knowing the Baxters and learning from the Baxters and realizing that they 
defined the way a family was supposed to be.
But she didn't catch every word; she was still too busy looking at Landon. He 
mouthed the words, his whispers jusl loud enough for her to hear. "Did anyone 
ever tell you . . ."
She lowered her chin so no one would see her giggling beneath her veil.
"You have the most beautiful hair." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze and 
mouthed one last thing. "We're getting married"
She felt chills down her spine, and her arms. The moment was surreal, like 
something she might've painted. Here they were getting married and whispering 
like schoolkids. "I love you, Landon.'
Finally it was time to say the vows. Like most of her sisters before her, Ashley 
had chosen to write her own. Landon, too.
He went first. 'Ashley, you are my other half, the part God gave me before I 
even knew your name.' He looked deeper at her. "Come with me, stay with me, 
dance with me, play with me. Love me all the days of our lives. No matter what 
happens, be my wife and my friend, the piece my heart can't live without."
Seconds passed, and she couldn't speak, couldn't think of what to say or do. 
Landon loved her. They were here, getting married. What more was there to say?
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Pastor Mark made a quiet coughing sound and gave her a pointed look. It was 
enough to snap her into action. She caught Landon's look again and began 
reciting the lines she'd written the day he gave her the ring.
"I belong to you, Landon Blake. God directed my steps even when I was running, 
so that one day you would find me and you would find my son, and we'd never, 
ever be apart again." She paused and out of the corner of her eye she saw Cole 
take a step closer. "I see life as a painting, a picture to be savored. And you, 
Landon, are my reds and oranges and brilliant golds. In my life you are the 
sunrise and this is only the beginning. My heart was locked up tight when you 
came to me, and now you will forever hold the key. Be my husband, Landon, and 
walk forever with me and God Almighty."
"And me!" Cole spouted the words before Ryan could slip a hand over his mouth. 
Again a tittering worked its way across the church.
Ashley grinned at Cole and gave him the okay sign. "That's right. And Cole, too. 
Because we both love you and we always will."
Landon's eyes shone and he let loose a quiet chuckle. He wanted to kiss her; his 
eyes told her that much. Instead it was Pastor Mark's turn again. He led them 
through the various statements, the promises to be true in good times and bad, 
the exchanging of rings. Finally he pronounced them husband and wife and gave 
Landon permission to kiss her.
The moment was brief, with only a hint of the passion they would share with each 
other later. The guests clapped, and Pastor Mark said the traditional words 
Ashley had asked him to say: "I'd like to introduce to you... Mr. and Mrs. 
Landon Blake."
Ashley spotted her mother sitting in the front row, looking straight at her. And 
somehow she knew that God had answered their prayers after all, that he'd given 
them a miracle the last time she had cancer all those years ago. That she'd been 
living on bor
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rowed time ever since, going along year after year so that she might be here to 
see each of her children get married. 
She felt Landon take her hand and lead her down the aisle. And though the 
clapping came from the family and friends that filled the church, she was sure 
she heard a distant clapping, too. A clapping of all the angels in heaven and 
earth who knew that a moment like this could only come from one source, 
Their loving, faithful Almighty God. 
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TWENTY-EIGHT
The end was coming. John knew better than he
let on. But since Ashley and Landon had postponed their honeymoon, the reunion 
continued unabated. There were picnics in the backyard, game nights, and 
conversations that lasted until all hours of the morning.
Elizabeth was there through most of it.
She hid her pain as best she could and did most of her coughing into a 
handkerchief, which she kept with her. But on Tuesday morning, three days after 
Ashley's wedding, he could see in her face, in the whites of her eyes, how 
quickly she was fading.
"You aren't feeling well, are you?" He walked around the bed to meet her.
She looked almost green, as if she might not survive the effort it took to get 
out from underneath the covers. "I'm... I'm a little queasy."
He helped her into the bathroom, but before she could reach the sink, she called 
out his name and collapsed in his arms.
"Elizabeth!" he shouted at her, suddenly terrified that the end , had come 
without any traditional warning, without any parting
314 
words, or last-minute chances to tell her how much he loved her, how much he 
would miss her.
She was limp, so he stretched her out on the bathroom floor. Adrenaline coursed 
through him and his heart raced. He had to force himself to stop shaking long 
enough to feel for her pulse. "Elizabeth?" His fingers found the spot on her 
neck. It was slow and thready; she needed immediate help. 'Honey, wake up. We 
need to get you to the hospital."
When she didn't show any signs of responding, John raced into the bedroom and 
dialed 9-1-1. God, let them hurry. Don't let this be it ....
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"This is Dr. Baxter from the hospital." It was a detail he didn't need to 
mention. His information would, of course, come up on the screen of the operator 
as soon as his call went through. But he was desperate, hoping maybe they'd come 
faster if they knew it was him. "My wife's collapsed; please.., please hurry."
"Yes, I'm sorry, Doctor." The woman's voice was familiar, probably someone he'd 
seen in the emergency room before. She sounded alarmed at the news. "We'll have 
someone there in five minutes."
He thought about waking the others or calling Brooke or Kari or Ashley. But he 
couldn't leave her side. Her arms were pale and clammy, same as her neck and 
chest. This time he got down low
to her face. "Elizabeth, it's me... honey, wake up."
Still there was no response.
Sirens sounded in the distance, but the driver must've turned them off as he got 
closer to their house. He was at the door, ringing the bell, before John could 
get down the stairs. He flung open the door and pointed upstairs. "She's up 
there."
At the same time, the other bedroom doors flung open. 'Dad, what's happening?" 
It was Erin, and she pulled a robe around her as she darted down the stairs.
"Your mother collapsed; I can't rouse her." He looked up and saw Luke in another 
doorway wearing sweats and a T-shirt. His
315 
mouth hung open, face pale from the sudden shock. "Please, one of you call the 
others. We can meet at the hospital."
"Dad... is she.. 2' Luke clearly couldn't bring himself to say the words.
John shook his head. No, she wasn't; she couldn't be. "She's breathing, Luke. 
Maybe she just needs some fluids, but they have to take her in. Please... stay 
calm. We'll get through this, okay?"
"Okay." The old Luke would've gotten angry or shaken his head or stormed off, 
doubting God for not giving them the answer they wanted. But the look Luke had 
in his eyes now was that of a grown-up, a young man ready to face whatever the 
day held.
And John was fairly sure whatever it held, it wouldn't be good.
Dayne was on location in British Columbia when he got the call.
His pager had a distinct sound when the message was Dora his agent. It was 
Friday, and the director was blocking a scene that didn't involve him, so he 
waved at one of the assistants. "I've got a call; okay to take
The woman nodded and signaled at him.
His playboy image was still intact, but only because he hadn't had the chance to 
prove otherwise. Sarah Whitley was on location with him but the two had kept 
their distance. Meanwhile, all Dayne wanted was to hear back from the private 
investigator. In some ways, his entire life felt like it was on hold while he 
waited.
He'd spent some time dating since he'd been filming in Canada, but very little. 
The assistant director was hot for him; he could tell that much. But nothing 
interested him. He'd lived the wild li[e so long it had lost its appeal. 
Beautiful Hollywood women all looked alike to him now, and he found himself 
looking at families who stopped by to watch the filming. Not people
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in the business, but everyday families who had only stopped by out of curiosity 
to see what was happening.
Dayne would see a couple, hand in hand, with a few children gathered around them 
and he'd stare, wondering the same thing he'd wondered so often since meeting 
Luke Baxter. What would it have been like to grow up with brothers and sisters, 
to know the tangible presence of his parents day in, day out?
Funny, he would think as the family got bored and wandered off. He had 
everything the world considered important: money and fame and talent and looks. 
But none of it would buy him the
one thing he'd never really had.
A sense of belonging.
These thoughts flashed in his mind as he stepped off the set toward his trailer 
and called his agent. "Hey, it's me." Dayne
turned to block out the noise. "What's up?"
"I heard back from the PI this morning."
Normally, nothing made Dayne anxious or nervous or surprised. But suddenly his 
palms were sweaty. He looked around and found a stump to sit down on. "Shoot."
"What was that kid's name, the one who worked at the law office in Manhattan?"
"Baxter." Dayne's heart rate tripled. In the distance, the director was barking 
at someone. He covered his other ear with his
hand so he could hear better. "Luke Baxter."
"No wonder you hit it off with him."
The ground beneath Dayne's feet felt suddenly unstable. His head spun and he 
used a tighter grip on the phone so he wouldn't drop it. "What's that mean?"
"According to the investigator, your birth mother's name was Elizabeth, and 
about three months after you were born she married your father--a John Baxter. 
John and Elizabeth went on to have five other children: Brooke, Kari, Ashley, 
Erin," he paused. "And Luke. Dayne, the guy's your brother."
Dayne couldn't talk, couldn't think. The woman in the photograph on Luke 
Baxter's desk was his birth mother? She really
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k i n g s b u r y s m a I l e y
was? The idea was crazy, insane. He'd dreamed tens of times that
Luke's framed photographs were pictures he could share one day, a nice family, 
siblings who cared about each other, loving
parents.
Everything he hadn't known before.
A single question worked its way past the shock. "Why? i: Why'd she give me up?"
"The records are pretty clear on that, too. Elizabeth and John met in Michigan, 
attending the U of M. I guess when she got pregnant, her parents sent her to a 
girls home in Indiana. They insisted she give you up or they wouldn't support 
her." The agent paused, and Dayne heard the sound of loose papers being 
shuffled. 'I guess she got smart at the girls home, because after they took you 
from her, she lived with her parents for less than a month before marrying John 
Baxter."
"What about Luke and the other kids?" He held his breath. He hated having to ask 
the next question. The answer could determine exactly what he would do from this 
point on. "Do they know about me?"
"Well--" more shuffling--"the PI talked with Some people at their church in 
Bloomington, Indiana, and apparently not. Everyone interviewed said John and 
Elizabeth had just five children. Churchgoers, pretty clean folks. Sounds like 
you were their one secret."
Anger stepped into the ring and threw punches with the other emotions fighting 
it out. "They never looked for me, never cared to find me?"
"Don't be too hard on them." His agent took a few seconds. "Back in the 1990s, 
they filed some papers with the court, trying to locate you, but the records 
were closed. It was a dead end." He was quiet for a beat. "And look where they 
wound up living, Dayne. Back in Indiana, where you were born. Makes me think 
they've always hoped they'd find you."
Dayne hung his head, trashed by the feelings in his heart. No wonder he and Luke 
Baxter looked alike. They Were biological
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brothers. The idea was more than he could grasp, sitting there on the outskirts 
of the shoot. 
"Matthews!" It was the director, waving a rolled-up script and scowling at him. 
"Off the phone; we have a movie to make!" 
Dayne waved his hand, signaling that he'd be finished in a minute. He closed his 
eyes and concentrated on his agent's voice. 'Anything else, anything important?" 

"Yes." The man's tone grew somber. "This is the worst part. Your birth mother is 
sick, Dayne. She has terminal cancer. She's in the hospital there in 
Bloomington. Her records show she doesn't have long; it could be anytime." 
Dayne thanked the man, clicked the phone off, and stared at the ground. He 
hadn't come this far to miss his only chance to meet her. Maybe she hadn't told 
his siblings about him; maybe he would never tell them either. But he wanted the 
chance to see her, to look her in the face and tell her he'd turned out okay. 
That the couple who had been his parents were nice people-- misguided, maybe, 
but nice all the same. 
"Matthews!" The director was heading his way, his steps long and angry. "What're 
you doing? This isn't break time." 
"Sir." He let the cell phone drop to his side. "An emergency 
has come up; I need the weekend." 
"Right now?" 
Dayne doubled his determination. "Right now. I can be back Monday morning." 
The director wasn't known for his compassion, but he mus've seen something in 
Dayne's eyes. He huffed and kicked up some dirt with the toe of his boot. "Go. 
We'll work on some of the technical shoots." He started to turn away, but looked 
back again. "I hope everything turns out okay." 
"Thanks." Dayne was already dialing the charterjet service he used. If he caught 
a flight this evening, he could probably fly straight to Bloomington. That way 
he could get to the hospital before lunch tomorrow. "Me, too." 
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Elizabeth had no idea where she was or how long she'd been there. She opened her 
eyes and after what felt like several minutes, the shapes around her began 
making sense. She was lying in a bed, but it wasn't her own.
Something was different about her body.
She wasn't in pain the way she'd been before the wedding, and she wasn't 
pain-free the way she'd been during and afterwards. Her body felt like it was 
floating in some sort of half-asleep state, and she felt numb all over.
Her vision cleared a little more and she saw the IV bag hanging by the bed. 
Suddenly alarm wrapped its arms around her. She was in the hospital! Something 
must've happened to her, but what? Her mind tried to drift back, tried to 
remember where she'd been last, but her memory wasn't working right. Thinking 
back felt like trying to grope her way through a cloud of fog. Hard work and 
nothing visible to grasp hold of.
She'd been at the wedding, right? memorizing every moment. And then she was at 
the reception, watching her children dance with their spouses, enjoying the 
babies in their car seats beside her, watching Cole and Maddie and Tommy and 
Jessie entertain everyone with their own version of the "Hokey Pokey." Hayley 
had also been by her side, cooing occasionally and pointing at the others.
And there were Ashley and Landon, young and in love, and Cole was dancing 
between them, running around the room shouting, "I have a daddy! Guess what? I 
have a daddy!"
And John was helping her to her feet so they could sway right there next to 
their table in the sweetest slow dance she'd ever had. And Kari and Ryan and 
Brooke and Peter and Erin and Sam and Luke and Reagan were all in a circle, 
holding hands and dancing the 'Twist and Shout" with Ashley and Landon in the 
middle.
Wasn't that just a few minutes ago?
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How had she gotten here? Elizabeth blinked and looked at her arms, her hands. 
The IV was in the crook of her right arm, so she slipped her left forearm under 
her head and glanced around the room. 
She was in the hospital, but where was everyone? Where was John? 
She scanned her bed and a small table beside her and found a call button. Maybe 
someone could help her find them. 
"Yes, Elizabeth?" The voice was tinny, not one she recog nized. "Are you awake?" 

"I feel sort of funny." She smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I 
need water, I think." 
"We'll get some water for you right away. Would you like to 
see your husband?" 
"Is he here?" 
"Yes." She paused. "You've been asleep for quite a while." Asleep? "How long?" 
"You know, Elizabeth, I'm going to let your husband and the 
doctor explain things to you. They'll do a better job than I could Elizabeth 
stared at the plastic control. "Okay... I guess." She heard John in the hallway 
a few minutes later, his steps fast and anxious. She knew the sound of him, the 
way he sounded when he was in a hurry. He rushed inside, stopped, and met her 
eyes. 
"Elizabeth." He was scared to death, his mouth open as if he wasn't sure if she 
was really there looking at him. "You've been .. you've been sleeping." 
Her arms felt heavy and numb. "i think they've got me on drugs." 
"Yes." His expression told her that was an understatement. few drugs." 
She held out her hand. "I woke up..." Her eyes made another pass around the 
room. "I didn't know where I was or what had happened to me." 
John came to her, cradling her arm against his waist, running 
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his fingers over her palm, the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. I was visiting with 
the others. Everyone's here; we've been waiting for you to wake up."
Her head hurt, and she couldn't concentrate the way she'd like
to. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Since Tuesday morning."
"What time is it now?" Her words were slurred some. She
hated the fact that she was on drugs without ever wanting them. "It's Friday 
afternoon."
It took a minute to sink in. Elizabeth calculated the days in her head and 
stared at him. "I've been sleeping for three days? straight?"
"Yes." John leaned over her and kissed her on the cheek, the
lips. "Do you remember where you were when you collapsed?" She thought about 
that. "At the wedding?"
"No." He couldn't hide the concern in his face. "At home. We were heading for 
the bathroom, but you never made it. You passed out and, well, here you are."
Suddenly, as if the fog might be starting to lift, her situation became more 
clear. She was at the end stages of cancer, and this--this hospital stay might 
very well be the end. Fear wanted to say something to her, but she refused it.
Instead she looked out the window and whispered a quiet thanks to God. For 
letting her wake up, for letting her have this time with John and her family. 
She turned to him and smiled. have something to give you."
He looked concerned again, as if maybe she was delusional. She did a soft, 
sick-sounding giggle. "It's in the nightstand beside my bed at home; it was a 
surprise."
"A surprise?" He was still leaning over her, bracing himself on his elbow. He 
searched her eyes. "What sort of surprise?"
"A letter." She tried to turn onto her side, but the effort was too much.
John hurried to help. He grabbed two extra pillows from a cupboard near the door 
and used them to prop her up. "Better?"
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"Yes." She exhaled, exhausted. "I wanted to write you each a
letter, but instead I wrote three."
"Three?"
"One for you, one for all the kids, and one for our firstborn, in case he ever 
finds you, John." She paused. "After I'm gone, I mean. That way--"
"Elizabeth..." He wanted to tell her not to talk like that; she could tell by 
the tight way his lips stayed frozen, partially open. But the fight left him 
almost as quickly. "Go ahead." He pulled a nearby chair closer to the bed. "I'm 
sorry; I shouldn't have interrupted you."
He took her hand again, and she ran her thumb over his fingers. 'That's okay. 
I'm sorry, John." Her heart ached for what he was going through, what they were 
all going through. "I hate talking about being gone from you; I'm not afraid to 
die, but I can't imagine a week without you, let alone years and decades. But 
still..."
"You have to talk about it." He dug his fingers into his hair and when he looked 
up, there was a weariness in his eyes. A weariness Elizabeth had never seen 
before.
"You're right; I have to talk about it." She inched a bit closer to the rails at 
the side of the bed. 'Anyway, have them play my favorite hymn at the service, 
please, John."
"'Great Is Thy Faithfulness?" He was trembling, but his eyes were dry.
'Definitely."
"Okay. I'll make sure."
"John." She looked at him and felt her expression soften. "You know something?"
'What?" His voice was tender, his eyes deep into hers.
"I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do right now."
His eyes grew damp and he blinked three times. "What else, honey? What about the 
letters?"
"Right." Elizabeth tried not to feel lost in his eyes so she could focus. It was 
harder with the medication. "After my service, have
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everyone come to the house. You can read their letter to them then. I say 
something for everyone, but a lot.., a lot of what I wanted to say was meant for 
everyone to hear. That's why I stuck to one bigger letter."
"And you want me to read it out loud?"
"Yes. And make sure they each get a copy, please, John."
"I will." He was on his feet again. The bed rail was raised like a prison wall 
between them. He released a latch and it fell down below the bed. "There." He 
brushed his nose against hers, and with careful hands he hugged her for a long 
time. "What else, Elizabeth? I'd do anything for you."
"Hold me, John. That's all. Just hold me." Her voice was a whisper, full of 
equal parts passion and pain. Not the sort of pain that had sent her to her 
bedroom before Ashley's wedding. The kind that came from seeing the look in his 
eyes, from hearing his voice. A pain that knew the hour for good-byes was 
drawing near, pain that meant her heart was breaking in two.
After ten or fifteen minutes, he stood and looked at her, his eyes full of 
questions. "Do you think . . . do you have a sense about when?"
She kept her eyes locked on his and gave a slow, sad nod. "Soon." A single tear 
slid from her left eye and down the bridge
of her nose. "Could you do me one more favor?"
"Anything."
"Get the kids for me. Every one of them. Please, John."
It was a reunion, exactly the way she'd pictured it.
Only instead of lying on the beach or even picnicking on their front yard back 
at home, they were here, in the hospital. All Friday evening and again now that 
it was Saturday, the hospital staff had allowed them to pack out the entire 
room. Elizabeth didn't have a roommate, so the conditions were crowded but 
manageable.
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She'd already asked to go home, and they were saying maybe Sunday afternoon. The 
bottom line was exactly what Dr. Steinman had told her from the beginning. They 
could do nothing for her, nothing but keep her hydrated and on constant pain 
meds. Since she'd agreed to take special protein drinks and take the pain pills 
at home, Dr. Steinman was more than willing to let her go home.
"If I had a family like yours, I wouldn't want to be any other place."
He was right, especially now, with her family still here. But until she could go 
home the hospital room would do. Even now, propped up on half a dozen pillows, 
with John sitting by her side holding her hand, Elizabeth was taking in every 
moment of her time with them. Kari and Ryan and Brooke and Peter were talking 
about the fact that Jessie's adoption had gone through. After Kari's first 
husband was murdered, Ryan had married her and promised he'd adopt Jessie. The 
process had taken longer than he'd expected, but she was legally his now.
"And we have this little one." Kari patted her rounded tummy. Ryan gave her a 
light tap and put his face near her midsection. "Hello, in there. You're my 
little linebacker, right, baby? Enough pretty girls running the place, right?"
They all laughed and Elizabeth shifted her attention to Erin and Sam and Reagan, 
sitting together with the babies. Tommy was toddling about Reagan's knees, and 
Erin was saying, "... so then the pastor at our church tells us there's a woman 
in the congregation whose daughter is pregnant with a baby she doesn't want, 
and..."
Elizabeth looked to the other side of the room where Luke and Ashley and Landon 
sat near Hayley in her wheelchair. Cole and. Maddie were on the floor coloring 
with Clarisse and Chloe. Every now and then Cole would lift the coloring book up 
so
Hayley could see. "Like it, Hayley? I'm coloring it for you." And she would coo 
a little louder, happier than before. Landon was saying, "She was crazy, 
remember? Thinking
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k in g s b u r y s m a l e y
somehow Reagan's baby was mine? A little wacko if you ask
me."
"Stop!" Ashley giggled. She had a new glow since she'd married Landon, a peace 
and serenity that hadn't been there before, but a deep sense of happiness that 
only true love could bring. She gave Landon a mock punch in the arm. "I only 
thought it for a minute or two."
Landon raised his eyebrows at her.
"Okay." She gave Luke the punch this time. 'Maybe an hour at the most. It was 
jet lag, I tell you. Or maybe too many paint fumes."
"You were painting a lot back then." Luke tilted his head. "You have to keep 
painting, Ash. You're too good."
"What's this? This coming from my doubting little brother, the one who once 
watched me sketch a tree and thought it was a Russian building?"
Luke held his hands up, bringing them together in a strange shape. He cocked his 
head one way and then the other, as if he were trying to figure out what it was. 
He looked at Landon and shrugged. "I'm still not sure; it had the exact look of 
one of those
government buildings you see in those Russian photographs." "It was a tree!" 
Ashley nudged him and they both laughed. Elizabeth felt the corners of her mouth 
lift. All her life she'd loved music: classical, country, slow songs, and movie 
sound tracks. But here, under the fluorescent lights of a hospital room, the 
blended sounds of their voices was the most beautiful song she'd ever heard.
John leaned sideways so she could hear him. "You're liking this, aren't you?"
"I am." She yawned. I could listen to them all day/'
He ran his fingers through her short hair. She no longer wore the beret. They'd 
all seen her patchy hair, anyway. "Maybe it's time you get a little rest. You'll 
need your energy if you're going to come home tomorrow."
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"Not yet." She drew in a breath, The rattle in her chest had gotten so loud it 
stopped the conversations near her.
"How are you feeling, Mom?" Kari stood and stretched. "I saw you smiling."
The kids played off to the side, but everyone else was quiet, listening for her 
answer. "I was smiling at all of you." She let her eyes meet each of those in 
the room. "Listening to you talk about the past, laughing together. This was why 
I wanted a reunion in the first place. I could sit here all night watching you 
visit, hearing your stories."
Luke seemed to catch a signal from John. It was five o'clock and none of them 
had eaten yet. "You know, I was thinking we ought to head out for something to 
eat, maybe let the kids run around the park across the street for a little while 
and get them situated with the sitters before we come back."
Pastor Mark had arranged for three young women from church to be at the Baxter 
house by seven o'clock so the children could get to bed. There were nine in all, 
and with Hayley's special needs, Elizabeth figured it would take at least that 
many sitters.
She looked at John. He was serious about her getting some rest, and if it was 
just for a few hours, she could manage the separation. "I guess I could take a 
nap. But you'll all come back?"
"Of course, Mom." Erin sauntered over and took hold of her foot sticking up 
under the hospital blankets. "It's a good time to take a break."
The kids each came by, Cole and Maddie taking turns scrambling onto the bed and 
snuggling with her for a minute or two. Kari helped Jessie, who was not quite 
big enough to climb up, and next Luke held Tommy up so she could kiss his cheek. 
The babies were being rocked by Sam and Erin, and Clarisse and Chloe were still 
fairly shy. They wrigglecl their fingers at her and gave her timid smiles.
Elizabeth watched them go and looked at John. She could only imagine the lives 
those girls had led before coming to live
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with Erin and Sam. How blessed that they might get four daughters in as many 
weeks. How sad that the girls would never know her well enough to jump up next 
to her like the other kids.
When everyone else was gone, John bent low and touched his lips against hers. 
"Have them call me if you need anything."
"I will." She understood what he meant if something went wrong, if she took a 
turn for the worse, he wanted to be there. It was all he could do to leave even 
for a few minutes. Two or thre hours? He never would've gone if it weren't for 
the kids. "John, do you see it?"
"See what?" Another bit of worry splashed across his expression. "How special 
this reunion is. None of them will ever forget it." He straightened, but his 
shoulders stayed slumped. "You're right; it's very special."
After he was gone, she closed her eyes. John was right. She was exhausted; a nap 
would do her good. Before she fell asleep, she thanked God for every good thing 
he'd done for them that past week.
There's just one more thing, Lord. I've asked before, but you and I both know my 
time is running out. Right now, right this minute you know where he is, the boy 
I gave up. If he's close by or far away, you see him. God, how much I'd love to 
talk to him just once before I die, to tell him we never forgot about him.
She blinked and looked out the window. A robin lighted on the windowsill, cocked 
its head, and peered into the room. Then it hopped twice and flew away. 
Elizabeth closed her eyes again. That's all I want, Lord. A quick visit like 
that robin just now. I know it looks crazy and impossible, but you're the God of 
impossibilities. That's how come Ashley has a wedding ring on her finger. 5o 
please, God, if it be your will, lead him here. And if not, let him.find the 
others after I'm gone.
Sleep took her then, deep and restful, and she dreamed about the reunion, about 
all of her family--every single one--together in one place. Together, the way 
she liked them best.
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Air travel had never been slower.
Dayne was used to placing a call with the charter jet company and having a 
Gulfstream meet him within a few hours. He had a standing contract with them, 
and always they'd been reliable- whether his assistant gave them two days or two 
hours to line up a plane. But this weekend the entire fleet was booked so Dayne 
had to resort to a public airline.
Now that he knew the information, that his birth mother was Elizabeth Baxter and 
that she was dying of cancer in Bloomington, Indiana, hospital, Dayne couldn't 
wait to get there But his six o'clock flight out of British Columbia had been 
delayed, because of a thunderstorm, causing him to miss his connection in Los 
Angeles.
His only option was to spend the night in L.A. and take a flight to Indianapolis 
the next morning. He walked to a hotel across the street, registered under a 
false name, and was back at the airline at five Saturday morning for the 
six-thirty flight. The whole time he wore his baseball cap and sunglasses to 
avoid being recognized.
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It was a good thing. He was so focused on getting to Bloomington, he wouldn't 
have been able to sign his name without checking his watch. 
The nonstop flight from Los Angeles was delayed because of storms in Indiana, 
but the plane finally took off at nine and ar rived at two in Indianapolis. 
Thirty minutes after landing he was at the car-rental lot, and by three-fifteen 
was pulling out of the lot in an SUV. 
No question the people at the car-rental agency recognized him. But that was 
okay. They took his information, but let him register under a different name. He 
had a brand-new CheW Tahoe with dark tinted windows, OnStar, and a navigational 
system at no extra charge. He had hoped to arrive at the hospital by four 
o'clock, and even after the ground delays by no later than four-thirty. But an 
overturned semitruck on the main highway caused a delay, and he didn't pull into 
the hospital parking lot until just before five. 
He chose a spot near the back, away from passersby. Not until 
he turned off the engine did it hit him. 
Okay, so he was here. Now what? 
Dayne stared hard at the building. Inside was his birth mother, dying of cancer, 
probably with all the other Baxters gathered around her. All he'd known when he 
took the call from his agent was that he had to come, had to find a way to see 
her, to meet her before she died. 
But now that he was here, in the fading sunlight of a warm July evening, the 
logistics seemed suddenly outrageous. What was he going to do, walk through the 
door and introduce him self? Maybe she didn't want to see him, didn't want him 
to find her. Especially now. 
He let that thought sit for a minute. 
No, that wasn't the case. She wanted to meet him; otherwise she wouldn't have 
tried to find him back in the 1990s. The trou ble was with his siblings. If the 
PI was right, the five of them 
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k i n g s b u r y s m a I I e y
were biologically related to him, but not one of them knew he existed.
He tried to think back to his discussion with the attorney,Joe Morris, before he 
left Manhattan last time. What had the guy said? Luke Baxter was off for the 
summer because he had some family matters to take care of. His mother was sick, 
yes, but something else.
Then it hit him. Luke's sister was getting married; wasn't that it? Dayne 
gripped the steering wheel. Yes, absolutely. That's what it was.
A big group of people, adults and children, came through the double doors of the 
hospital and stood in a cluster, talking and keeping track of their little ones. 
Dayne pushed a lever near the base of his seat and moved into a reclining 
position. He couldn't afford to be noticed. Bloomington was a small town; if he 
attracted a crowd he would never be able to make it up to see his birth mother.
The visit would raise too many questions, and the tabloids would find a way to 
splash it across the headlines.
His thoughts returned to his siblings. If they were gathered together for a 
wedding, and at the same time facing the loss of their mother, then no doubt 
they had enough on their plates. Besides...
Dayne sucked in a hard breath and filled his cheeks with the air. Besides, his 
birth parents had chosen not to tell them. What right did he have to tell them 
now? And what good could ever come from it?
They lived in Small Town, America. Bloomington was nothing more than a quaint 
college town where everyone probably knew everyone else. If he connected with 
these people now, their lives would forever be in the limelight. The paparaz7i 
would spout about "Dayne's sister this...' or 'Dayne's nephew that.. /' Whatever 
lifestyle they knew and loved now would be changed forever if he entered the 
picture.
The large group milled into the parking lot and headed to
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ward him. He lowered his seat back farther, but only enough so they wouldn't see 
him. It was an attractive group, several cou ples and-- 
He sat up a few inches. 
One of the guys was Luke Baxter--no doubt about it! After spending months 
thinking about the guy, he would've recog nized him anywhere. The group was 
moving slowly, talking, still heading his way. 
And suddenly Dayne felt his heart rise to his throat. 
There, walking toward him, was the family he'd never known. Luke and his wife 
and a baby, four other couples--obviously his sisters and their husbands. And 
more kids than he could count. At the center was a tall man in his late fifties, 
early sixties. A man 
with his own stance and shoulders and gait. 
The man who was his biological father. 
Dayne glanced sideways and saw five cars parked fifteen yards away. The Baxters 
were headed for those cars, and Dayne wasn't sure what to do. A part of him 
wanted to jump out, run to them, and introduce himself. He would meet them and 
hug them and learn the names of the children. And in a matter of minutes he 
would have the family he'd always wanted. 
They were walking closer.., closer. 
The tint on his windows would keep them from seeing inside his car; if he didn't 
want them to spot him, they wouldn't. They were too involved in conversation, 
and as they came still closer he was able to make out their faces. 
One of his sisters had short hair and a businesslike look. From far away it had 
looked like she was pushing a stroller, but now he could see he was wrong. It 
was a wheelchair, and inside was a beautiful blonde girl whose eyes and 
expression looked distant and slow. 
Other than Luke and John, the other men had to be the guys married to his 
sisters; he didn't pay close attention to them. His eyes moved quickly to the 
shortest of the four women. She had a plain look, a type of wholesome look 
directors were always 
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searching for. She was definitely pushing a stroller, and inside-- if Dayne was 
seeing it right--were two babies. His other two sis ters were drop-dead 
gorgeous. Both were tall, with big husbands at their sides. 
They were still headed straight for him; Dayne gripped the door handle. He could 
do it; he could approach them and tell them who he was, and John would back him. 
John knew the truth. And since they were out here at the back of the parking 
lot, no one from the media would have to know. 
He could make out their expressions now. They were sad-- that much was clear. 
But they were smiling, touching each other's shoulders, chatting about 
something, and taking their time. As if they loved being together. 
Dayne watched, mesmerized. He belonged with them, didn't he? Wasn't this the 
time to make himself known, so that forever more he would have a place with 
them? Even a borrowed place? He opened his car door, put his feet onto the 
pavement, and was just about to stand up when he heard the sound of a camera. 
Instantly he slid his feet back inside, shut the door, and locked it. That's 
when he saw a man crouched beside a burgundy sedan two rows in front of him. The 
man had a full-size camera aimed straight at him. 
Dayne looked around the lot, dazed. The man was paparazzi; Dayne was sure. But 
how had he followed him here? He stared the man down, glaring at him, and the 
answer became obvious. 
The man at the rental counter had informed OnStar; through some manner he 
must've told OnStar he needed to track the ve hicle's whereabouts, maybe under 
the guise of additional safety or security. Then, for a price no doubt, the 
rental-agency guy must've alerted the tabloids that Dayne Matthews was parked at 
the hospital in Bloomington, Indiana. 
He wanted to punch the photographer in the face. 
But his family was getting away. They were veering toward the parked cars, and 
most of them had their backs to him now. He took hold of the door handle one 
more time. Forget the 
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paparazzi; they could say what they wanted about him. No one would have to know 
the identities of the people he was talking to. There was still time to 
introduce himself, to find out where they were going and join them for the 
evening.
He tore his eyes from them and spotted the photographer again. The camera was 
still aimed straight at him. In a practiced manner, he pretended to be looking 
at something else. If the man knew he was onto him, it would be harder to get 
away later on.
But what about the Baxters? Dayne shifted back to his family and held his 
breath. They were opening the doors, getting kids into car seats.
Quick, Matthews . . . hey're going to leave!
But then he saw something move near the photographer's car. The man was standing 
up, watching the Baxters with a curious eye. Obviously he had seen Dayne's 
interest through the high- powered lens of his camera. And now he wondered if 
the people getting into the five cars might hold the reason why America's 
hottest movie star was sitting in a rented SUV in the parking lot of a hospital 
in Bloomington, Indiana.
And in that moment Dayne did the only thing he could.
He let go.
He took his hand off the door, leaned back in his seat, and watched his family 
climb into their cars. His earlier thoughts had been right on. If he met his 
family now, the media would figure it out. The tabloids would hire some crack 
investigator, and the entire story would make headlines by the end of the month. 
Every one of them would have their story smeared across the headlines.
The car doors were closed now, and one at a time they pulled out of their 
parking spots and drove away. The family he had never known. His family.
Dayne gritted his teeth. He could've killed the photographer, but there would 
always be another one. Paparazzi went along with the territory. But in that 
moment he would've given any
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thing to undo the fame he'd earned. To be a teacher or a lawyer or a doctor, 
someone who could meet his family without the whole world knowing.
His eyes stung and he gave a sharp sniff. He'd been independent this long. What 
did it matter if he never met them, anyway? He'd only just found out about them 
yesterday.
As dusk was falling over the city, Dayne looked again at the hospital. The 
photographer might've kept him from his siblings, from the chance of getting to 
know his family. But he wasn't going to keep him from his birth mother.
He started his car and zipped out of the parking lot. This time he spotted the 
burgundy sedan easily. The guy was good. He
stayed back, with one or two cars between them.
But Dayne had an idea.
Driving at an average speed so the photo hound wouldn't be suspicious, he 
traveled until he spotted a supermarket stuck in the middle of a strip mall in 
what looked like the busiest part of town. He parked near the middle of the lot 
and slipped on his baseball cap. Walking with his face down, he headed into the 
store. He was too far away to hear the camera, but the clicking sounded in his 
mind anyway.
Click-click. Click-clicle-click-click.
How could they live with themselves? Human maggots, that's what they were. So he 
went to a supermarket in Bloomington? Big deal. Dayne swallowed his disgust. He 
picked up his pace once he got inside and headed straight for the back of the 
store. The only way it would work was if he could find a side door. He'd used 
this trick before; most markets had another exit.
He spotted a sign that said Restroorn and headed for it. Sure enough, the 
bathrooms were down a hallway, and at the end was a single door with an Exit 
sign over it. He darted outside and found himself in an alleyway. Beyond it was 
a car dealership, and he headed for it at a slow jog.
Once in the lot, he spotted a restaurant a few shops down to the left. The walk 
took three minutes and a tired-looking cabbie
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was parked just outside. Dayne was careful to keep his face down, not that it 
mattered so much now. People weren't expecting to see Dayne Matthews walking 
down the boulevard in Bloomington, indiana.
He tapped on the cabbie's window.
The man jumped, startled. He folded a newspaper that had been on his lap and 
gestured to the backseat. Dayne climbed inside and shut the door. The entire 
scene felt more intense than anything he'd ever filmed.
"Where to?" The guy was in his sixties, probably retired and
looking for a little extra income. He didn't even turn around. The hospital. The 
one near the university
The driver gave him a wary look in the rearview mirror. 'You
must be new around here."
Yes, sir."
"That's the only hospital in town."
Dayne stayed slightly slumped during the ride and gave the driver a ten-dollar 
bill when he dropped him off near the entrance. 'Keep the change."
He started to walk off, but the driver called out. 'Hey... you need another ride 
when you're done here?"
"Yeah." The old guy didn't recognize him. Probably didn't get out much. Dayne 
looked both ways, scanning the parking lot and the lobby area. No sign of the 
burgundy sedan or the photographer. "I don't know how long I'll be."
The cabbie shrugged. "I ain't got nothing going. I'll be here
unless I get another call."
"Great."
Dayne headed into the hospital and tugged on his hat, keeping it low over his 
eyes. It was warm out, but he wore his sweatshirt, the one with the hood that 
bunched up around his neck. He stopped at the front desk and asked about 
Elizabeth Baxter.
"Elizabeth Baxter . . ." The woman was young, in her mid- twenties. She searched 
a computer screen and then seemed to find it. "She's on the third floor. In room 
318."
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Dayne's knees shook, but he stayed calm, his words relaxed. "Does she.., are 
there any other visitors here?"
The woman was chewing gum. She worked it for a few seconds. 'Let me call the 
nursing station on that floor." Taking her time, she punched a series of numbers 
into the phone by her elbow, spoke to someone in hushed tones, and hung up. 
"She's by herself, sleeping by the sounds of it."
He took a few steps toward a bank of elevators nearby. "So it's okay if I go 
up?"
She narrowed her eyes at him and angled her head. "Why do you look so familiar?"
Before any realization could dawn on her, Dayne gave her a sad smile. "I've been 
up here a lot. I'm Elizabeth's son." The words felt foreign on his tongue, but 
he didn't blink.
"Oh." She gave a knowing nod. "That must be it." She pointed to the elevators. 
"Yes, go right up. Family can stop in anytime."
Her words stayed with Dayne for the next few minutes. "Family can stop in 
anytime....famil),.., fa,nil.y . . ."
He stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor and kept his face low again. 
It was one thing to claim to be Elizabeth's son. But the people working directly 
with her would know he wasn't Luke Baxter, even if they did look alike. He 
wanted to get in before anyone asked any questions.
The nursing desk was empty, and he crept past, careful not to make any noise as 
he walked. Up ahead he saw her door: room 318. His heart was pounding so hard he 
wondered if he should stop and get a grip. But he couldn't; he had no time. It 
wouldn't be long before the photographer would figure out he'd been ditched, and 
then it would only make sense that he'd return to the hospital.
Dayne held his breath, knocked twice on her door, and waited. No response. 
Slowly, carefully, he opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. 
He was in. The lights were off except for a soft bar light above her bed. It 
took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and then he saw' her. She was
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sound asleep, hooked to machines and an IV, and making gentle snoring sounds.
Without taking a step in her direction, he stared at the woman in the bed, and 
he knew: It was the same woman as in the pictures. The pictures on Luke Baxter's 
desk, and the picture he'd kept in storage all these years.
His birth mother was a few feet away, and he didn't know what to do next.
Mesmerized, he walked toward her, stood over her, and searched her face. They 
shared the same cheekbones, the same brow structure. But she was way too thin, 
and her hair didn't look right. Probably the effects of chemo.
He took the chair next to her bed, keeping his back to the door. At that instant 
someone walked in, and Dayne's heart stopped. "Oh, it's you, Luke." A big nurse 
strode around the bed, checked the IV bag, and wrote something on a chart. 
"Everything going okay?"
"About the same." His heart stumbled back into a racing rhythm.
"Good." She patted him on the shoulder as she passed by. "You're a good son, 
Luke."
He hesitated but only for a second. "Thanks."
Then the woman was gone.
Dayne hung his head on the rail that separated him from Elizabeth and let the 
adrenaline rush pass. What had he just done? Pretended to be Luke? Surely 
someone would hear about that, make a comment that Luke had been by, when really 
Luke was out somewhere with his family.
He had to hurry, had to make the most of the moment while he still could.
It was time to wake her up, but what would he call her? How could he explain why 
he was here, especially if she was half asleep? He felt for a latch near the 
railing and released it. Then he slid closer and gave her arm a gentle nudge. 
"Elizabeth?"
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She turned her head and mumbled words he couldn't under stand. 
"Elizabeth?" He shook her a little more this time. Any minute he expected the 
other Baxters to return, or worse, the photogra pher to burst into the room and 
start snapping pictures. He leaned closer. "Wake up, Elizabeth. I'm your son. 
I've come to meet you. I'm your--" 
She blinked a few times and squinted at him. 
"Hi." His voice cracked and he couldn't speak. They had so much to talk about, 
so many years to make up for. However many minutes he had now, by her side, they 
would never be enough. She was very sick; that much was clear. Whatever happened 
in the next few minutes, this would not only be their first ;,'isit. 
It would be their last. 
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CHAPTER THIRTY 
ELIZABETH HEARD THE VOICE, heard it calling her 
name. 
But when she opened her eyes, she knew she had to be dream ing. The face just 
inches from hers was as familiar as it was for eign. Sort of a mix between John 
and Luke, but at the same time neither of them. 
She squinted at him and tried to make out what he was saying. "Elizabeth... can 
you hear me?" 
"Yes." She coughed and tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't let her. "Help me, 
please." 
The young man had tears in his eyes, but he was kind. He did as she asked, 
taking the pillows from the foot of her bed and placing them under her head and 
back so she could see him better. 
"Is that good?" The man took a step back. 
"Yes. Thank you." What was it about him? He was more fa miliar than anyone other 
than her own family, yet she was sure she'd never seen him before. She was awake 
now--at least it felt that way in her dream. Her eyes found his and searched for 
some 
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sort of connection, a reason why he might be in her hospital room. Was he one of 
Luke's friends? one of the kids who had once hung out at the Baxter house?
He seemed to read her mind. His head moved from side to
side, and he touched her hand. 'You've never seen me before." "I haven't?" She 
studied his face, his frame. "Not since I was a baby."
A baby? Elizabeth sat up some, her eyes glued to him. "You... you remind me of 
someone."
He came closer, taking her hand in his. Tears glistened on his cheeks. 
"Elizabeth, I'm your son."
The moment the words were out, Elizabeth felt the room start to spin. Her son? 
The one she'd been praying about, begging God for a chance to meet? She ran her 
thumb over his hand, her voice suddenly weak. "Is this.., is it a dream?"
"No." He kept his eyes on hers. "My name's Dayne, and . . . well, I found out 
you were sick." His tone was pained. "I wanted to meet you before.., before it 
was too late."
She looked straight into his heart and, as surely as she knew God existed, she 
was sure this was her son. Her prayers had been answered, and now the boy she'd 
spent a lifetime missing was
standing there before her. "Dayne, that's what they called you?" "Yes."
There was so much to ask, so much to tell him. But she needed to tell him one 
thing first. "I never wanted to give you up, Dayne. I was young; they made me do 
it."
He nodded, his eyes swimming. "I know. The investigator told me."
Investigator? Elizabeth put the thought from her mind; those questions could 
come later. 'Were they good to you, your parents? Do they still live in 
Indiana?"
"No." He swallowed, struggling to stay composed. 'They died when I was eighteen. 
In a small-plane crash."
The news cut her like a knife. His parents were dead? So who
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did he have in the world, no one? "Brothers and sisters? Did they ever adopt 
other kids?" 
He angled his head. His expression told her he wasn't angry, wasn't bitter. 
"They were missionaries. I spent most of my child hood in Indonesia, at a 
boarding school. My parents were won derful people, but we didn't have much time 
together. They died out on the field." 
Elizabeth let the information rip through her. There was nothing she could say, 
nothing that would erase the fact that the young man standing before her had 
lived through a lonely child hood. When no words would come, she held out her 
hands to him. "Dayne... I'm sorry." 
He hugged her then, shaking from the tears, holding her as if he never wanted to 
let go. The same way she had held him thirty-five years ago before they came to 
take him away. "Don't be sorry," he whispered near her ear. "I had a good life." 

"But we missed you." She snuggled her face against his, her firstborn. "You 
belonged with us. Every year on your birthday . . . or when you would've had 
your first day of kindergarten, your first day of high school--all the 
milestones--I thought of you. I had to give you over completely, Dayne. I had to 
trust God that you'd be okay." A few sobs made their way up from her throat. 
"But I never stopped missing you, never stopped loving you." 
They stayed that way, hugging, holding on until finally he sat back down on the 
edge of the chair and searched her face. "I never really thought of myself as 
adopted. My parents--" he sniffed and dragged the back of one of his hands 
across his cheeks before taking hers--"my parents told me there was an other 
woman who had given birth to me. They even showed me your picture when I was a 
little boy, maybe first grade. But we didn't talk about it much after that. They 
never--" he looked out the window, his eyes distant--"they never used the word 
adop tion around me." 
The questions were back. Elizabeth savored the feel of her 
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hand in his. "How did you find me, Dayne? I tried--" her voice broke and she 
shook her head, waiting for her body' to cooperate with her--"I tried to find 
you the last time I was sick. In the early 1990s."
"I know that, too. The records were sealed."
She raised an eyebrow. "Your investigator is good."
"Yes." He nodded. "I wouldn't have come if I hadn't found out that you'd tried 
to find me back then."
"John and I used to promise each other we wouldn't talk about you." She felt 
herself drifting. How many times had they stuffed the truth about their oldest 
son, buried it, forbidden themselves to talk about him even with each other? And 
what if they'd used that same energy to hire an investigator--the way Dayne had 
done?
The answers were too sad to think about. She met his eyes again. "Why now, 
Dayne? What made you look?"
For a moment, he hesitated, as if he was trying to decide how much to say. "I 
found a box in storage marked Adoption Information.' Your picture was inside."
"My picture?" Her eyes welled up again. She had asked the director of the girls 
home to pass on a picture of herself to the adoptive parents so that her son 
would have something to remember her by. 'Did you open it, pull it out?"
Dayne wrinkled his brow. "I... I left it in the frame."
"I wrote you a letter on the back. Read it sometime, okay?" He nodded, his chin 
quivering.
'%0..." Elizabeth coughed two more times. Every breath was a struggle, worse 
even than earlier today. The end was coming; she could hear the plane taxiing to 
the gate. 'You turned the paperwork
over to an investigator, and here you are. Is that it?" Again he hesitated.
An idea hit her. Maybe God had allowed him to come now because of the reunion! 
Because they were all together. What better time to tell their children about 
the past, to let them kno\v
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that she and John had a boy before Brooke, and that they'd had no choice but to 
give him up for adoption?
She tightened her hold on his hand. "Dayne... what time is it?" "Six-forty."
"Good." She could feel her eyes dancing. "The rest of the family
will be here around seven. I'd like them to meet you."
"I can't stay long, because--"
Pain filled his eyes, a pain that hurt her worse than him. "What, Dayne?" Her 
voice was gentle, the voice she used with all her children when they came to her 
upset about something. "What is it?"
"You never told them about me, did you?"
It was the hardest question she'd ever been asked. She drew in a slow, painful 
breath and willed him to understand. "From the beginning they told me to forget 
about you. We could never look for you, never find you. The director at the 
girls home said it was better to pretend you'd never been born."
Dayne said nothing, but his eyes held a sympathy that took the edge off the ache 
in her soul.
"When we started having children, John and I talked and--" she glanced around 
the room, desperate for the right words-- "and we decided we couldn't tell them 
about a brother they would never know, never find. It was enough that we missed 
you, without them missing you, too."
Dayne nodded, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "How would they feel now? After so 
many years?"
Elizabeth looked down for a minute, thinking. When she looked up, she had 
something she needed to know before another minute passed. "Do you have a 
relationship with God, Dayne?"
Something hard flashed in his eyes. "Not a relationship, maybe. I haven't given 
God a lot of thought, I guess. My parents were in the God business, but they 
never talked with me about him much." He gave a light shrug. "I guess they 
figured my faith was an automatic thing. Because they believed."
"Okay." Elizabeth ached at the news. Her oldest son had not
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only grown up lonely and without the Baxter family support, but he didn't share 
their faith. "So maybe that's why God let us meet. Can I tell you something, 
Dayne?" She loved the sound of his name on her tongue. It was a name she 
might've given him if she hadn't given him up.
"That's why I'm here."
"I've been begging God that you would find me. Ever since I found out I was 
sick, I ask my Jesus every day, 'Please... bring me my firstborn. Before I die, 
let me meet him.'" She stroked the top of his hand with her fingertips. "I 
thought it was because I needed to tell you that I never forgot about you, never 
stopped loving you. But maybe.., maybe it's so you can find a heavenly Father in 
God."
Dayne shifted in his chair. "Maybe."
The conversation about God seemed to be making him uncomfortable.
"Just something to think about, okay?"
"Okay."
"Now . . . I know about your childhood." Elizabeth worked the corners of her 
mouth up. "What's your life like now, Dayne? Are you married? Do you have 
children? What's your line of work?"
He seemed surprised by the questions, but his expression relaxed noticeably. 
"I'm not married; no children." He paused. "I'm an actor."
She felt her heart swell. Her children had always been interested in the arts. 
Brooke had played the piano as a young girl, Kari with her modeling, and Ashley, 
the painter. Luke and Erin had sung in the church choir all through high school, 
and now .. this young man who had missed out on every bit of life as a Baxter 
was also involved in the arts. "Tell me about it."
"Well.. 2 He gave a soft chuckle. "I've been doing it for a while. I've been in 
some movies."
"Really?" Pride mixed with regret and made her throat tight. She had missed so 
much of his life, all the important years. And now.., now they had only a few 
days at best. "Big movies?"
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"Pretty big." He paused. "That isn't important. Tell me about your other kids."
She noticed that he kept from calling them his brother and sis ters. "Okay,.. 
okay.., well, we had Brooke first..."
Over the next ten minutes she gave him a sketch of each of his siblings and 
caught him up on their adult lives as well. Who they'd married, how many kids 
they'd had, what struggles they'd overcome. Her coughing grew worse as she 
talked and when she
finished, Dayne stood and looked at his watch.
"I should go."
"But the others..." She was exhausted from talking, and the IV must've pumped a 
fresh dose of medication into her. It was all she could do to keep her eyes 
open. "Dayne, you have to stay."
He touched her forehead and took her hand again. "Maybe I'll come back and meet 
them tomorrow."
His answer made her relax some. 'Okay." She forced her eyes to stay open. "I'm 
really not dreaming, right?"
"Right." He tightened his hold on her hand. "Thank you, Elizabeth."
Something in his tone brought her around again, made her more alert despite the 
exhaustion coming over her, "For what?"
"Thank you for having me, for praying that I'd go to a good family." He smiled, 
even though his eyes were watery again. "Thanks for never forgetting me."
She couldn't speak, could barely draw in a breath. Instead she held out her 
hands and once more he came to her, embracing her. When he pulled back, she 
forced herself to speak. "This wasn't enough time."
"No." A single tear slid down his cheek.
"Dayne... there's only one thing I want you to do for me."
He sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand against his chest. "What?"
"Find God. Find your faith." She bit her lip. "Things didn't work out the way I 
wanted them to; we couldn't all be together
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here. But in heaven--" she smiled--"in heaven we can all spend eternity 
together." She felt the smile fade. "Please, Dayne."
He didn't answer her. Instead he hugged her once more and whispered near her 
ear, "Something was always missing in my life until now." He straightened and 
gave her one last smile. "I'll never forget you, Elizabeth.'
The tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back. I
love you, Dayne. I always have."
"me too."
He held up his hand, took a few steps back, and turned around. He was gone 
before she could call his name. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong about 
one thing. The something missing hadn't been her or.John or any of the Baxters. 
Yes, that was a part of it, but the bigger part was his faith.
And until he found that, he would never really be whole. But she couldn't tell 
him, because he was gone. Maybe he would come back tomorrow, or maybe he 
wouldn't. Elizabeth's head was fuzzy, sleep coming over her fast like a tidal 
wave. If he didn't come back, none of the others might ever see him. But maybe 
he wasn't even real. Maybe the whole thing had been a dream.
But if it were a dream, then how come her arms still remembered the feel of him 
against her? And how come the ache in her heart was so familiar?
The same as it had been thirty-five years ago.
349 
The cabbie was still OUTSIDE WAITING.
Dayne looked around, but the burgundy sedan was nowhere nearby. He climbed 
inside and pressed himself against the back seat. "The supermarket, the one near 
the restaurant where you picked me up."
The driver made no small talk, and Dayne handed him twenty. The cabbie thanked 
him and pulled away, and this time Dayne held his head high. He spotted the 
photographer in burgundy sedan still, but he'd changed parking spaces. Dayne 
glared at the man, looking right at him. When the photographer saw him, he 
sprang to life and began shooting pictures.
Dayne didn't care. Let him take pictures now. He'd no doubt been driving around 
the past hour trying to figure out what of clandestine deal Dayne Matthews was 
involved in.
But the photographer would never find out. Dayne had already made up his mind. 
He would drive back to Indianapolis tonight and take the first flight back to 
Los Angeles. No use trig in Bloomington another day, not when the paparazzi was 
already onto him.
His family, the Baxters, were nice people. He could tell that
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much after an hour with Elizabeth. He wouldn't subject them to the type of 
scrutiny he would bring into their lives. No, they'd gone all their lives not 
knowing about him; they would never know the difference. 
He gave a final look at the photographer, climbed into his SUV, and drove off. 
This time he did a little fancy driving and lost the guy. It didn't matter now; 
he had no more reason to hide. Still, he didn't want the jerk having the 
satisfaction of taking any more pictures. 
Dayne studied the area around him. He'd turned into an older part of town. 
Probably closer to the university. Since it was Sat urday evening, the little 
shops and businesses were closed. 
Everything in him wanted to turn around and find Elizabeth Baxter again, wait 
for the others to come, and then figure out a way to make a place among them. 
Even after all these years. The visit had been amazing, much better than he'd 
ever dreamed. But every detail was pressing near the surface of his heart, ready 
to burst through and overtake him with emotion. 
She hadn't recognized him; that was the best part. She didn't know he was Dayne 
Matthews the movie star. Only that he was Dayne, her son. The one she'd spent a 
lifetime thinking about and wondering about and never quite forgetting. 
He drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Tahoe and kept driving. There would 
be time to remember his visit later on the plane. For now he wanted to soak in 
all he could about Bloomington. 
This would've been his hometown if she'd been allowed to keep him, if he'd grown 
up the oldest Baxter son. He took his time, looking down the side streets and 
imagining. It was small and fresh and nothing at all like Manhattan or 
Hollywood. The kind of town where a kid could play football and race his sisters 
to the local park. A place where families would share Sunday picnics and spend a 
lifetime believing that life really was some thing out of Mayberry R.F.D. 
He kept driving until he spotted a crowded parking lot ahead. 
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kingsbury smalley 
Though the rest of the area looked shut down for the night, in front of him was 
a large, ornate structure. A church maybe, or an arts building. 
Dayne leaned forward and squinted. A marquis in front of the building read 
"Academy of the Arts." Beneath that it said "CKT Presents Charlie Brown." A list 
of dates and times followed. Dayne pulled oer. He checked his watch; the final 
performance was tonight at six o'clock. It would be almost over, but still he 
wanted to go inside. 
Community theater.., in Bloomington, Indiana. 
Acting didn't get much more small-town than that. He parked, donned the baseball 
cap, hunched his sweatshirt around his neck, and headed for the front door. A 
ticket table was just inside, but no one was manning it. He walked past, slipped 
into the dark theater, and took a seat in the back row. 
Positioned across the stage was a group of clean-cut kids dressed in Peanuts 
costumes and singing. Some were holding hands. The song was vaguely familiar, 
something he'd heard back in boarding school, maybe. It was a song about 
happiness and being together with people you cared about. 
"Happiness is... three kinds of ice cream...'" 
This was what drama was about, wasn't it? Not the wild, Hol lywood life; not 
waking up in bed with your leading lady won dering how either of you got there; 
not hiding from the public and deranged photographers; and not making millions 
of dollars for a single film. 
How real was any of that? 
The song continued. '' 'Happiness is... having a sister...'" Having a sister? 
He thought of the women he'd seen in the parking lot earlier. He would never 
know that feeling. He brought his hands to gether and remembered how it had 
felt. Holding hands with his birth mother, knowing that she had loved him all 
her life. That she had wanted to keep him and even now, on her deathbed, her one 
regret was giving him up. 
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The song was ending, the kids were singing, "'Happiness is... coming home 
again.'"
Dayne felt his eyes grow wet and he cursed himself. He'd cried more today than 
in all his life combined. The scene onstage ended and after a few more minutes 
the play came to a close. At that point the entire cast filled the stage, took a 
bow, and began shouting, "Jamie... Jamie... Jamie..."
The houselights came on and Dayne kept his face hidden by the bill of his cap. 
The kids onstage were relentless, grinning and waving and shouting at this Jamie 
person, whoever that was.
After a few minutes, a young woman sprinted down the side aisle and up the 
stairs onto the stage. The kids in costume circled her, jumping up and down and 
calling her name. Finally, when they settled back to their places, she motioned 
for them to quiet down, and they did.
When she faced the audience, Dayne felt his breath catch in his throat. She was 
gorgeous. Fresh-faced with layered blonde hair and blue eyes that shone even 
from where he was sitting.
"Hi, everyone." She waved and shaded her eyes, trying to see the audience past 
the bright lights. "I'm Jamie Hart, director of Christian Kids Theater. Let's 
hear it for the kids who made our first show such a success!"
The crowd clapped wildly, bigger than Dayne had heard crowds clap at the Academy 
Awards. They rose to their feet and clapped some more untilJamie motioned for 
them to sit down.
Dayne couldn't take his eyes off her. She was maybe twenty- six, twenty-seven, 
with the sort of beauty Hollywood had forgotten about. If she wore makeup, it 
wasn't much. She had on jeans, a silky pale blue blouse, and a black fitted 
blazer. But nothing about her shape or her looks compared with the glow on her 
face.
Jamie Hart loved what she was doing. That much was obvious.
She was about kids and acting and making magic happen on the stage. No multimega 
contracts, no autograph seekers, no
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kingsbu ry smalle y
fame or fortune. Community theater.., teaching kids about acting, and that was 
enough.
It hit him then, exactly what he was looking at.
If he'd been raised in the Baxter family, he might've been working right 
alongside her. Maybe they would be friends or lovers. Maybe she would've become 
his wife. His heart fell strange, as vast and empty as the Grand Canyon. Yes, 
perhaps this would've been his life, the one he would've lived if Elizabeth's 
parents hadn't sent her away when she came home preg nant.
He'd been robbed of a normal lifestyle, a loving family, brother and four 
sisters, and nob, this. Tim chance at a norma life with a beautiful girl who 
would never see her name in lights a life that certainly would've filled the 
emptiness inside him.
As he slipped out of the theater, as he made his way back to the rented SUV and 
headed for the freeway, he remembered, something Elizabeth had said: "Find your 
faith, Dayne . . . find your faith."
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Why bother God--if there was a 
God--had left him out of the life he would've loved. He'd been given a window to 
all he might' had, but no door to get to it. And God had allowed it to happen.
Elizabeth was wrong. He didn't need faith; he needed a family And one day---even 
if it took a decade to figure it out--he would find them again and tell them who 
he was. One day when he was washed up in the business, when the paparazzi no 
longer cared about who he was or what business he might have in Bloomington, 
Indiana.
Until then, he would work and carry on the best he knew how. Carried by the 
memories of his family as they walked toward him in the hospital parking lot; 
his birth mother holding him in her arms, telling him she had never stopped 
thinking about him, never stopped loving him.
And the memory of a small-town girl r named Jamie Hart, who represented 
everything he had missed of t on along the way.
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Jamie saw him from the stage, saw him sitting in the back row watching the last 
part of the show. This was closing night of their first play, and the guests in 
attendance were family members and friends of the theater troupe.
Strangers stood out, especially strangers who showed up near the end of the play 
and left after ten minutes.
The strike party was about to begin. Jamie had a dozen kids tugging on her, 
asking her questions about the awards and the strikes--silly spoofs on the play 
that the kids wanted to perform. Tim, the teenager who had played Charlie Brown, 
brought his guitar for the event. He was going to lead them in a few worship 
songs before they got started with the silliness of the evening.
But Jamie couldn't get the stranger from the back row out of her head.
She'd seen him somewhere before, but where? Was he an uncle, maybe? Someone 
affiliated with the Arts Center or the university? She was about to forget the 
whole thing, when Rhonda-- the dance instructor--came running up.
"Can you believe it? Did you see him?"
Jamie searched her friend's face. "Who?"
'Dayne Matthews!" Rhonda took hold of her shoulders. "He was here; I promise!" 
She pointed to the back row. "He sat right there for ten minutes and watched the 
end of the play."
Dayne Matthews? The famous actor? The Hollywood playboy who had dated almost 
every one of his leading ladies? No wonder he looked familiar. But the guy 
couldn't have been Dayne Matthews. "It wasn't him." She turned and headed back 
to the stage.
Rhonda stayed close by her side. "It was. Bethany followed him out when he left. 
She called his name and he turned around." Rhonda did a few jumps and a bell 
kick. "Dayne Matthews came and saw our play,! Who'd have thought?"
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kingsbury smalley
Jamie was needed onstage. She held up her hand, stopping further conversation 
about famous actors coming into the Bloomington community theater building. Tim 
was already onstage with his guitar, warmed up and ready to sing.
The group of parents and kids involved in CKT was amazing. Dozens of families 
who had come together to help get the theater troupe off the ground, and who 
were thrilled that their children had a chance to explore the arts in a 
Christian environment. Jamie had never felt more full in all her life.
People took their seats, and a silence fell over them. Tim--a talented 
fifteen-year-old with a gift for leadership and a heart for God--led them in 
prayer. "Lord, thank you for letting us finish our first show. Thank you for 
Jamie and for a Christian theater group in Bloomington .... " He kept on, 
praying about the performance and asking that it might have been a light to the 
community.
But as he prayed, Jamie began her own private conversation with God. Lord... 
Dayne Matthews? Here in Bloomington? If it was him, God, then maybe you brought 
him by for a reason. Let him find that reason, God. And bring him back if you 
can use o,r group to touch him.
A gentle breeze stirred in her soul.
Daughter, you will see him again. I know the plans I have for him and your place 
in those plans.
The response rippled through her, making her tremble inside Once in a while when 
she prayed, she could feel God answer practically hear his voice. But this time 
the answer was more specific, as if maybe God really had a plan to bring Daym 
Matbews back to their theater.
The idea was crazy, but the things of God often were.
She let the thought pass and tuned back in to Tim's prayer. "And so, God, bless 
Jamie and CKT and everything about our group. And most of all make your purpose 
known to all of us in volved. Especially Jamie. In Jesus' name, amen."
356 
John had taken the call while they were all still at the Baxter house. Elizabeth 
wasn't feeling well; her vitals weren't as strong as they'd been earlier. He 
told the kids, and the group gave hurried instructions to the babysitters and 
left.
Now they were back at the hospital, and Elizabeth was barely conscious.
Dr. Steinman met them in the hallway and pulled John aside. "It could be anytime 
John." He shook his head. "She was doing well an hour ago, when Luke was in with 
her, but she's taken a turn for the worse."
"Luke?" John glanced at his kids and their spouses, standing a ways from him. 
"Luke was with us for the past two hours."
Dr. Steinman made a face. "That's strange. The nurse said Luke was sitting by 
her side for the past hour." He lifted one shoulder. "Anyway, the point is she's 
getting worse." He hesitated. "I don't think she'll make it through the night."
The truth suffocated John like a plastic bag. He had so much left to tell her, 
so much more to talk about. Everything about the moment felt stilted and 
robotic, as if his body knew how to go through the motions, even if his heart 
didn't.
He pulled his kids together--all five of them and their spouses--and one at a 
time he met their eyes. "Your mother is leaving us." Tears came, but his voice 
stayed steady, on some type of autopilot,John hadn't known he possessed.
"You mean now?" The question came from Luke, and even before John could answer, 
his son was taking steps toward Elizabeth's room.
"Yes." John held out his arms, and all of them formed a group hug. "Dr. Steinman 
says it could be tonight."
It was time for good-byes, and John organized it as best he could. "I'll sit on 
the far side of her bed, and each of you take a turn visiting with her. One 
couple at a time, okay?"
There were tears and quiet nods of approval. The kids clung
357 
to their spouses as John entered the room first. Elizabeth's mouth was open. Her 
chest rose several inches with each inhalation, proof that her lungs were 
filling up, that death was at hand.
Elizabeth." He took her fingers in his and searched her face. 'We're here, 
honey."
She opened her eyes, and after a few seconds recognition filled her face. 
"John... you came."
The kids want to talk to you, okay?"
He released her hand, circled around the bed, and took hold of her other arm. 
Brooke and Peter were the first in. Peter said hello and then stood back while 
Brooke took her place near Elizabeth.
"Mom... I love you."
Brooke." Elizabeth's face was pale, but she had her wils about her. Her words 
came slowly, with much effort. "Don't be sad. We'll all be together again. The 
greatest reunion of all, okay?"
"I'm going to miss you so much. Hayley's going to miss you; you always take such 
good care of her."
I'll never stop praying for her." A smile ragged at Elizabeth's
eyes. "I have a feeling.., she's going to be okay."
Brooke nodded, too choked up to speak.
'You're a wonderful mother, Brooke. I know... I know you doubted that after 
Hayley's accident. But don't." She coughed, but the effort was so weak it barely 
made a sound.
Mom..." Brooke hugged her, placed her cheek against Elizabeth's.
John wiped at his eyes and memorized the scene.
"I love you, Brooke." Elizabeth's words were muffled because of their embrace.
"You'll never know how much you taught me."
Brooke said good-bye, stood, and touched Elizabeth's cheek once more. Then she 
turned and fell against Peter. He led her from the room, and after a few 
seconds, Erin and Sam entered the room.
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The scene repeated itself over and over again. Ashley and Landon were last. 
Landon took hold of Elizabeth's hand. "You're a special woman; the things you've 
brought this family will live on long after you're gone."
Elizabeth gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Landon. I'm so glad you didn't give 
up on Ashley. She needed you. She always will."
"I know." Landon's eyes were watery. He stepped back and Ashley took his place.
"Mom... how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." She gave a slow shake of her head. "No pain. Just in here." Her 
fingers rested above her heart. "I don't want to leave you."
"I..." Ashley dabbed at her eyes. "I don't want to say goodbye, Mom. I don't 
know how."
"You don't have to, honey." She took Ashley's hand and brought it to her lips. 
"We'll be together again; this is just a so long."
"But it's too long." Ashley hung her head before looking at Elizabeth again. "I 
was your black sheep." She sniffed and struggled for the words. "But you never 
gave up on me."
"That's what real love is about, Ash." Elizabeth looked past
her to Landon. "But you already know that now." "Yes. I'm beginning to 
understand." "Ashley..."
"Yes?" Her tears splashed on Elizabeth's hospital gown. "Don't let Cole forget 
me, okay?"
"No one will ever forget you, Mom. You and Dad were the reason
everything turned out okay."
"And God most of all."
"And God." Ashley smiled through her tears. "Of course, God."
"You know what I want to do when I get to heaven?"
John felt a wave of sobs building inside him, but he kept strong, letting Ashley 
have her moment.
359 
"What's that?" Ashley lowered herself closer.
"I want to start planning the next reunion. The one that will last forever and 
ever."
"Oh, Mom." Ashley hugged her. When she pulled back, the sorrow in her eyes 
wasn't as heartbreaking as before. As if maybe Elizabeth's words had eased some 
of the pain. "I can tell you one thing; we'll all be there."
Finally, he was alone with her.
The kids had all had their turns, and Ashley informed him of their plans. They 
were going back home to be with the children, and he was to call them if 
anything changed.
He took the better chair, the one closer to her bed. Every breath was a 
struggle, and the rattle was worse than before. Dr.
Steinman was right; she didn't have long before she left them. "Elizabeth..."
"Mmmm." She opened her eyes, and despite her condition, a knowing look shone 
through. "I'm not doing too well, am I?"
John smiled. He wanted to be strong, wanted to enjoy this last time with her. 
The grieving could come later. "You're doing
fine."
She swallowed, and the effort made her wince. "I have.., to tell you something, 
John."
"Okay." He cradled her arm against his chest, wishing he could cuddle up next to 
her but knowing she was too weak for that.
Her eyes opened wider than before. "I met him; I met our firstborn." She 
searched his eyes. She looked more lucid than she had all afternoon. "His name 
is Dayne."
John felt his stomach drop. What had the doctor said? Something about his son 
being here, sitting by Elizabeth's side for the past hour? It was impossible, 
wasn't it? Wherever their oldest
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son was, he never could've found them now, on Elizabeth's dy ing day. "Honey, 
what are you saying?" 
"He came here, John." She sank back into the pillow and closed her eyes for a 
moment. When she opened them, she looked confused again. "Unless it was a 
dream." 
A dream. That had to be it. John felt himself relax. "Tell me about it." 
"He was handsome, a lot like Luke. He said he was an actor, John. And that his 
parents were dead and he has no brothers or sisters." Her words were slurring 
and she struggled to keep her eyes open. "It didn't feel like a dream until the 
end. I thought he said he'd come back tomorrow." 
An understanding passed over John. It wasn't a dream; it was the pain 
medications. Hallucinations were common for people dying of cancer, especially 
at the end. The combination of the body shutting down and the medications made 
people hear and see things that defied explanation. 
That was obviously what had happened to Elizabeth. An actor named Dayne? She 
must've been thinking about Dayne Matthews, the man Luke had met at his office. 
Somehow bits and pieces of the past few weeks had come together to give her 
the impression she'd met him and that he was her son. 
5he was definitely hallucinating. 
"I'm glad you met him, honey. That's what you prayed about." He decided to go 
along with her, so that these last few moments 
they had together wouldn't upset her. "Thanks for telling me.;' Her eyes opened 
big again. "Do you think I'm crazy, John?" "Not at all." He thought of the 
doctor's words again. That someone had been in with her for the past hour. 
Probably some one from church, maybe even Pastor Mark. "I'm sure he came by, and 
I'm glad. Maybe I'll meet him when he comes Back." 
"Yes." A wonderful peace came over her expression. "That would be nice." 
"You're tired, aren't you?" 
"Very tired." 
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kingsbury smaley
John's mind raced. He still had so much to tell her. Ten years worth of things 
at least. "You know what I wish?"
"What?" She looked at him, and despite the sickness and th{ medication and the 
exhaustion she was feeling, it was the sam look she'd given him at the 
University of Michigan mixer, the same look she'd given him a thousand times 
since. A look of love that would stay with him even after she was gone.
I wish--" he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it--"l wish 1 could go with 
you."
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "The kids need you, John. 
Besides . . ." A choking sound came from her, and she waited until she'd caught 
her breath. "God wants me to
go ahead and help get things ready."
"For what, sweet Elizabeth?"
"For what?" Her smile was timeless, one he would keep with him always. "For the 
greatest reunion ever."
"I love you." He'd told her that every day, several times a day, since the 
August morning when they married. But here, in her last moments, he couldn't say 
it enough.
I'll never really leave you, John." Each word was an effort. "You know that, 
right?"
"I know." He held her hand to his heart again. "You'll be right here, woven into 
the center of all I am."
"That's not all." Her eyes shone. "I'll be in Cole's grin and Jessie's silly 
dance steps and Tommy's bright blue eyes. You'll see me in Erin's mothering and 
Ashley's artwork and Luke's determination to do right." She exhaled and the 
rattle echoed through the room. "You'll feel me when you hold Maddie's hand and 
when any of them gives you a hug." She paused, gathering her strength. "If you 
listen, you'll hear me in Kari's laughter and Hayley's gentle cooing and 
Brooke's moments alone at the piano. I'll be there, John. I'll always be there."
She fell quiet then, and though he told her he loved her every minute or so, 
after a while she stopped responding. For hours he
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watched her, watched every painful rise and fall of her chest, lis tened to her 
lungs shutting down, her life draining away. 
Sometime around midnight, she drew her last breath, and John tightened his grip 
on her hand. But he couldn't hold her, couldn't keep her from going, from 
leaving this world and tak ing the sweet and wonderful trip into the next. 
Relief filled his heart, flooded him with a feeling that was in describable. She 
wasn't in pain anymore, wasn't sickly or wast ing away or dying. She was with 
Jesus, because that was his promise. That those who love him will never taste 
death. John had expected to feel cut in half. Since she completed him, he had 
known that her loss would leave him feeling broken, as if he'd never be whole 
again. 
Instead, he felt his heart swell with a fullness it had never known before, 
because Elizabeth was right. Her body was gone, but she would never leave him. 
She would live on in the memo ries he would cherish, in the years and decades 
his family still had left together. 
She would be around them always, and at the same time she'd be working on the 
special plans she'd talked about earlier to night. The greatest reunion of all, 
one that would see Hayley running the streets of heaven, and no more tears for 
anyone. One where all of them were together, healthy and happy, and praising the 
God who had given them eternity. 
Forever and ever and ever. 
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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The SERVICE WAS OVER.
John had gotten through it on strength that wasn't his own. Each of the kids had 
been there, of course, bidding their mother good-bye, remembering her for the 
strong, graceful, loving woman she'd always been. According to her wishes, they 
had sung her favorite hymn: "Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father, there 
is no shadow of turning with thee."
And there wasn't. God had been faithful to the end; John had no doubts, no 
questions. Pastor Mark had said some profound things at the service, bits of 
truth that would stay with John forever.
"Human suffering is too big to get our arms around." His face had been earnest. 
"Don't try to figure out what God's teaching you by this, don't try to 
understand it, and don't try to understand God. If he could fit into your idea 
of him, he'd be too small for any of us."
John had sat mesmerized .as the message continued.
"All I want you to do today is run to Jesus. Being God, he alone fully 
understands both God and suffering. And right now
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all he wants to do is let you cry." Pastor Mark's eyes shone. It was hard to 
imagine that ten days earlier he had married Ashley and Landon. "We never own 
the people in our lives. We love them, yes, but they are on loan from God. We 
have them for a moment and then they're gone. Go ahead and grieve, because 
you'll miss Elizabeth. We all will. But while you're grieving, don't get mad at 
God for the minutes you'll miss with Elizabeth. Thank him for the minutes you 
had."
That last part was the best of all.
Every time John was tempted to wonder why God would take her now, he would 
remind himself of those words and be thankful. Because the minutes he had with 
Elizabeth were the most wonderful of all.
They were back at the house now, gathered in the family room. The grandchildren 
were playing upstairs with a babysitter, and only Hayley was down with the 
adults. It was the moment John had been waiting for, the moment he'd told the 
kids about.
"Your mother has written you a letter, one that each of you will get a copy of." 
He stood near the fireplace and looked around the room. The eyes of his children 
were somber, tearstained. But they were not without hope. "I'm going to read it 
to you now, because that's what your mother wanted me to do."
In his hand he held a manila envelope, the one Elizabeth had told him about. 
Three smaller envelopes were inside, just as she'd said. One had his name on it, 
one was labeled "For the kids," and one read "Firstborn."
John took out the one for their kids and opened it.
"What about the other letters, the ones still in the envelope?" Ashley cocked 
her head, staring at the package in his hands.
"Uh..." John felt the blood leave his face, He hadn't counted on his kids 
noticing the other letters. "Those are for me."
He'd already read his letter three times; it was beautiful of course, more of 
what she'd told him her last night in the hospital. As for the other one, the 
one marked firstborn," he'd thought about throwing it away. But he couldn't. It 
was impor
365 
rant to Elizabeth, and what if one day--by some miracle--their son found them?
The letter would belong to him, in that case.
John made a mental note to keep the manila envelope well hidden. Maybe in the 
box of things Elizabeth had kept on the top shelf in their closet. If any of 
them ever found the envelope, he wouldn't have any idea how to explain it.
John looked at the letter in his hand and started reading: "'Dear children, if 
you're hearing this, then I'm already gone, already off in heaven. This has 
probably been a hard day for you, but please.., for a minute, try not to be sad. 
I want you to know some things that are on my heart, things I don't ever want 
you to forget.' '
John paused. His throat was thick, but he felt a strength inside him, a sense 
that somehow Elizabeth was cheering him on from heaven, urging him to continue. 
"'You are all so different, but now--as I near the end of my days--God has shown 
me a theme to our years together. That theme is redemption.'"
Looking around the room, John saw Brooke and Kari close their eyes. Erin and 
Luke and Ashley stared off into the distance, intent on listening. John resumed 
reading. "Time and again this theme has come up in our lives. Brooke and Peter, 
what happened with Hayley was devastating. The strain nearly tore you apart, but 
here you are. Together, stronger than ever before.'"
Peter reached for Hayley's hand and brought it to his lips. He took hold of 
Brooke's knee with the other and gave her a sad smile.
"'Kari, your life hasn't been without sorrow. Tim's unfaithfulness, his murder, 
all of it might've had a tragic ending, but God brought, hope to every part. Tim 
died knowing his Savior; and God led you to Ryan, a man who will care for you 
and cherish
all the days of his life.'"
John saw Ryan put his arm around Kari and hold her close.
"'Ashley, you thought you were the black sheep but, honey, you never were. You 
had lessons to learn, and God used all sorts
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of people to teach you. Irvel and Cole and especially Landon. You are a living 
illustration of God's mercy and forgiveness, of the truth that he has a plan for 
each of his children.'"
Ashley let her head fall on Landon's shoulder. John saw her shoulders shaking 
just a bit, but she kept her tears quiet, to herself.
"'Erin, you couldn't have a family, couldn't bear children and you wondered if 
God had tbrgotten you. Then you show up for our reunion with four beautiful 
little girls. Can you ever doubt God again, sweet daughter? You were made to be 
a mother, and a mother you will be. No matter how dark the night, morning always 
comes, Erin. That's the message in Lamentations, chapter 3. The basis for my 
favorite hymn. The dark valleys are not where life ends. Not for you and your 
desire to have a family, and not for me.'"
Erin looked at the ceiling. Her eyes were damp, but a sad smile tugged at the 
corners of her lips. John saw her whisper the words, 'Thank you, God."
John stared at the letter and found his place. "'Luke, I watch you, and it's 
like seeing the Scriptures come to life. Your faith wasn't real for so many 
years. Yes, you talked about believing, but until you were tested, until you 
realized that suffering is part of a fallen world, you couldn't take Christ as 
your own. But here you are, and all of us see what God's doing in your life, 
what he's already done. I said it to you once before, and one far-off day say it 
to you again: Welcome home, Son. Welcome home.'"
Luke tightened his hold on Reagan's hand. He clenched his jaw, trying to stay 
strong, but finally he hung his head. Two teardrops fell onto his dress pants, 
and with his free hand he covered his eyes.
John's voice was still strong, but his eyes were blurred, He blinked and looked 
around the room. Elizabeth was right. He could see her in them, feel her in 
them. In the way they talked and hugged and laughed and loved. She was still 
with them, the way she always would be with them.
367 
kingsbry s maley
His eyes focused on the last paragraphs, and he finished the letter. " 'So you 
see, the theme is very clear. In life we have choices, choices all of us must 
make. I'm hardly perfect; your father and I know what it is to go against God's 
plan for our lives. Everyone breathing knows that awful feeling. In life there 
will be consequences for our bad choices, and there will always be suffering. 
Some of it, like my cancer or Hayley's accident, we'll never understand.
"But this is the part I want you to keep, the part you've illustrated with the 
stories of your lives. With Christ there will also be hope and forgiveness and 
faith and love.
"'And most of all, because of what he did on the cross, there will always be his 
amazing, unlimited, perfect redemption. Remember that, okay? I love you more 
than you know. And when you come home, I'll be here waiting for you. Then we'll 
have the greatest reunion of all.'"
368 
369 
A WORD FROM KAREN KINGSBURY
AND SO WE HAVE COME tothe endof the Redemption series.
Sort of. I'll explain more about that later. First let's go back; let's revisit 
the journey of not only Reunion, but the entire Redemption series.
In writing Reunion, I felt again and again the faithfulness of God, working in 
me, going before me, speaking to me in the plot and story line. But it wasn't 
just his faithfulness in writing Reunion, but his faithfulness in seeing the 
entire Redemption series come to an end.
Everything the Baxter kids had to work through over the past several years had 
seen a transformation because of God's redemption. Not without consequences or 
sorrow, but always with his love and grace and hope.
I have to tell you, I hated outlining Reunion, because I couldn't imagine saying 
good-bye to the Baxter family. After writing five books with these characters, 
they felt more than real to me. I'd find myself talking about our weekly church 
service and referring to the pastor as Pastor Mark.
I also struggled with letting Elizabeth die, but God reminded me of something in 
the midst of writing Reunion. It isn't the number of our days that counts, but 
the life in our number.
Many of you know personally the pain of suffering. Whether you've lost a job or 
a friendship, or worse, a spouse or a child. Maybe someone you love has walked 
out of your life the way Tim walked out on Kari in Rcdemption.
Your situation might be overcoming a shameful past, the way it was for Ashley in 
Remember. Or maybe you've walked away from your faith and just need to 
understand again that God's still waiting for you, the way Luke had to 
understand that in Return. Perhaps you've been caught up in a tragedy, the way 
Brooke vas
370 
R E U N I O N
in ReJoice. If so, then the lessons there are yours also. That joy always comes 
in the morning, that only by keeping your attitude of worship and praise will 
you ever survive a tragedy.
Or maybe you're in the season of losing a parent the way the Baxters were 
throughout Reunion. The sad experience of watching a parent die, or getting the 
call that a parent has passed suddenly, is one that most of us will experience. 
That's why I included it here.
It is my prayer that in reading Elizabeth's stow, you might find strength for 
your own. That you would understand that God's will is always best--even when it 
doesn't line up with your own. And that yes, trouble will come into our lives, 
but still, God wins. In the end, he always wins. I'm so grateful for that.
People write to me every day telling me that I've captured their story in the 
lines of one of my novels. I don't think that's a coincidence. God has given me 
stories like the ones in the Redemption series so that each of you will know 
you're not alone. Whatever you're going through, other people around you have 
gone through the same thing.
Sure, we can fight God. We can get angry at him for our sufferings or our 
circumstances or even our consequences. But in the end, we must be like the 
disciples of Christ, who once witnessed dozens and dozens of people walking away 
during one of our Lord's priceless messages. Jesus waited until only the 
disciples were left. Then he turned to them and said, "What? Aren't you going 
too?" They answered the same thing you and I musl answer, regardless of our 
situation: "Where would we go? To whom would we turn?"
Another theme I hope you've picked up on in the Redemption series is that God 
has great plans for your life. He loves you because you belong to him, because 
he made you. And as such, he knows the plans he has for you. Jeremiah 29:11 
tells us that, and it's a truth you can stand on forever.
Things aren't moving as quickly as you'd like? Ryan knew that feeling in 
Redemptiott. Confused about the place God has you in?
371 
Landon understood that while he was digging through the rubble of the collapsed 
World Trade Center. Certain that morning will never come again? Peter knew that 
sort of darkness after Hayley's accident. Figuring God has forgotten about you? 
Check in with Reagan and the way she felt raising an infant by herself, a 
thousand miles from the man she loved. The verdict's in, the diagnosis is made, 
the casket's closed? John knows how it feels to think all of life is behind him.
But the truth is that for each of these--and for each of you-- God still has a 
plan. A good plan, to give you a hope and a future.
From the beginning, when Gary Smalley asked me to consider writing a series of 
books that might illustrate his teachings about relationships, my hope and 
prayer have been not only that you would be entertained. Certainly I want you to 
feel that the Redemption series is good, clean, moral fiction. But my prayer is 
that these books have been so very much more.
1 love hearing from you, so many thousands of you, who have written to tell me 
that the books in this series have changed your lives. Marriages have been 
restored, relationships have been healed, love has been brought back to life. 
And many times you have told me that the Redemption series introduced you to 
God, or better still, brought you back to him.
Because of your letters, 1 know God has abundantly blessed my prayers about 
these books. The end result of the Redemption series is so much greater than l 
ever could've dreamed way back when Gary and I had our first meeting.
On that note, yes, I've agreed to write a total of eight more books for Tyndale, 
books that will branch off the one you're holding in your hand. Four of the 
books will be part of the Firstborn series, and four will make up the Sunrise 
series. All of them will be set in Bloomington, Indiana.
The Firstborn series will involve Dayne Matthews and his search for meaning in 
his life, andJamie Hart and her role as director o1 the Bloomington Christian 
Kids Theater. New" Ialnilies
372 
REUNION
and situations will be introduced, but Dayne's search--and other issues facing 
single people--will stand at the center.
The Sunrise series will involve the Flanigan family, Ryan Taylor's assistant 
coach, his wife, and children. This series is very close to my heart because in 
many ways it mirrors the lessons about love and li[e I've learned in these first 
fifteen years of being a wife and mother.
Like my own tamily, the Flanigans have six children, three who are adopted from 
Haiti. Two of the kids will be involved the Christian Kids Theater, andJamie 
Hart, the director, will live in a garage apartment at the Elanigan house. So 
there will be a tie from the Sunrise series to the Firslborn series. The other 
font kids will be athletes. Dad is a coach, Morn is a writer, and people of all 
ages tend to wind up on their doorstep looking for hope and a new life in 
Christ.
Expect me to deal with situations involving a host of family issues including 
learning disabilities, teenage eating disorders, children who are picked on by 
their peers, teens at the beginning of dating and driving, teens who enlist to 
fight for our counuy, and the effect these types of issues have on a couple in 
love with God and with each other.
This is the life [ live--and though there will be dramatic plot changes in the 
Flanigans' lives compared with my own--it is still my thrill and honor to use my 
tinnily as a plaflorm to bring you those four books in the Sunrise series.
The Firstborn series will be first, with Book I releasing spring 2005. 
Firstborn, fVogiv, en, Found, and Family will be titles in that series, and they 
will release every lhree to months. Then I will bring you the Sunrise series. 
Sumis< diet, 5omeda.y, and 5usct will also release every three to Iour months.
Please pray for me as God brings the story lines into finer detail, as he makes 
clear to me the types of situations 1 sboukl address in each of these eight 
bool<s. 1 am truly thrilled
373 
kingsbury s mlle y
honored by this opportunity. I pray you will find these books as life-changing 
as my Redemption series.
As always, I would love to hear from you. Those of you who have book clubs, 
please know that if you choose to read one of my books and would like me to 
'drop in" at your get-together, email me at rtnbykk@aol.com. I will try my best 
to arrange a phone conversation with your group at a meeting time that works for 
all of us (on speakerphone, of course). Or I will email },ou a response that can 
be read aloud to your group.
This is one more way that I can stay in touch with you, the reader, the one 1 
have prayed for as often as 1 have put my fingers to the keyboard.
By the way, my Web site has become something of a ministry. Please visit the 
Guest Book, the Reader Forum, the Prayer Ministry, or the Dear Karen section so 
you can share thoughts, make friends, get connected with a prayer partner, and 
find other peop[e like yourself who are being touched by what God is doing in 
their lives.
Contact me at www.KarenRingsbury.com, or write to me at my above e-mail address.
Blessings in his light and love,
374 
375 
A WORD FROM GARY SMALLEY 
HOLDING A REUNION is something most families do from time to time. But have you 
ever considered why it's important to get together, to gather in one place for a 
set- apart time? The reason is honor. 
We show that we value our relationships when we make them a priority. That is 
what honor is all about-- making the people we love a priority in our lives. The 
message Pastor Mark gave the Baxter family at the end of Reunion is one that 
stands for all of us. We don't own the people in our lives; rather we borrow 
them. They are gifts from God that we have for just a moment. 
Since they are gifts, it is even more important that we realize how much our 
special people need to be honored. Yes, reunions can be chaotic. They can be 
costly, crazy, and sometimes corny-- depending on who's telling the jokes. But 
the fact is, when people you love grow up and move away, getting together for a 
reunion is crucial. The following is a brief list of the benefits that can come 
when you go to the trouble of honoring those you love with a family reunion. 
THREE BENEFITS OF HOLDING A FAMI1A' REUNION 
1. Renewed Closeness 
One way to honor someone you love is by listening to them. When that person 
lives far away, phone calls and letters--even instant messages--are rarely 
enough to maintain a strong bond. It is honoring to a family member to make the 
time for a family reunion, because then whole days can be spent sharing the 
experiences that have hap pened since the last time you were together. 
376 
REUNION 
2. Revitalized Memories 
Since most reunions involve hours of talking, not only are experiences shared, 
but memories are brought up. People at reunions tend to take the past, dust it 
off, and hold it up for everyone to laugh and cry and marvel at all over again. 
In doing so, this keeps the sense of family alive and well, not only for your 
generation but for the one to come. It is honoring to everyone in the family to 
make your memories and your heritage something worth in vesting in. 
3. Rekindled Love 
There's nothing like taking someone in your arms and holding them to let them 
know they are loved. The best part of a family reunion is the time spent simply 
being close to the people you care about. Holding hands with your son or 
daughter, bouncing a grandbaby on your knee, getting reacquainted with an aunt 
or uncle. All of it shows that you have made family a priority. This is honor 
ing to everyone involved. 
Reunion shows the importance of taking time for each other. This, of course, is 
just one aspect of keeping strong relationships in your family. The other 
Redemption series books illustrate many others. 
If you or someone you love needs counseling or other re sources to improve a key 
relationship, contact the Smalley Rela tionship Center at: 
1482 Lakeshore Drive 
Branson, MO 65616 
Phone: 800-84TODAY (848-6329) 
Fax: (417) 336-3515 
E-mail: Family@smalleyonline.com 
Web site: www.slnalleyonline.com 
377 
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 
Use these questions for individual reflection or for discussion with a book club 
or other small group. They will help you not only understand some of the issues 
in Reunion but also integrate some of the book's messages into your own 
relationships. 
Note: Those of you who have book clubs, please know that if you choose to read 
one of my books and would like me to "drop in" at your get-together, e-mail me 
at rtnbykk@aol.com. I will try my best to arrange a phone conversation with your 
group at a meeting time that works for all of us (on speakerphone, of course). 
Or I will e-mail a response that can be read aloud to your group. 1. How did you 
feel when you realized Elizabeth Baxter's cancer had come back? Explain. 
2. Describe a time when you received bad news. How did you handle that news? 
3. Describe how Elizabeth and John handled the news of her cancer. How did that 
response change as her disease progressed? 
4. What emotional process did Erin and Sam go through as they yearned for a 
child, and then experienced a failed adoption? 
5. Have you ever adopted or do you know someone who has? Why is it wonderful 
that certain women and girls put their babies up for adoption? 
6. Describe the blessing of an adopted child. What are some of the issues that 
can make adoption both a source of joy and sorrow? 
7. How did God lead Erin and Sam through the process of loss and unknown 
circumstances? What specifically did they do or decide to do that brought them 
peace and mi raculous changes in their situation? 
8.John Baxter has been strong through most of the Redemp tion series. Explain 
why he was afraid in Reunion. 
378 
11. 
378 
REUNION 
9. Have you or has someone you know ever grown fearful after being strong, after 
having an unshakable faith? How did this person deal with the fear? 
How did John Baxter deal with his fear? How did his emotions and attitude change 
as Elizabeth's disease pro gressed? 
Elizabeth prayed for a miracle healing; instead God gave her a series of other 
miracles. Explain these. 
12. Describe what you think a miracle is. Do miracles still happen today? 
Explain. 
13. Tell about a miracle that happened in your life. Did you recognize it as a 
miracle at the time? 
14. Ashley has loved Landon Blake for years, but things be tween them never 
seemed to work out until Reunion. Describe the highs and lows of their 
relationship. 
15. Have you ever experienced a relationship or a situation where the process of 
growing closer and more serious took far longer than you expected? Tell about 
that time, and how God led you through it. 
16. Dayne Matthews has everything the world tells us is im portant: good looks, 
fame, and fortune. Why wasn't Dayne happy? 
17. Is there someone in your life who is feeling empty about life? Why do you 
think they feel this way? What can you do to help that person know God's truth 
better? 
18. Have you or has someone you know lost a parent re cently? Describe the 
feelings you or that person went through during the process and afterwards. What 
hope does God give us in this situation? 
19. Describe a favorite moment from a family reunion. If you can't tell about 
one, maybe it's time to get out the calen dar and plan one. 
20. What are the greatest lessons you learned from Reunion? Explain what 
Elizabeth meant in her letter when she said that redemption was their family's 
theme. 
379 The
REDEMPTION SERIES by Karen Kingsbury and Gary Smalley
Novelist Karcn Kingsbury and relationship cxperl Gary Smallcy team u{ t< bring 
you the Redemption series, which explores he relationshG priuc -p{es Gary has 
been eaching hr more ban thirly year5 and applies h<'m t
triumphs, the Baxlei family learns abokll c'cJllllllillllellt, Iorgivelws5, 
ttit[/.
and the redeeming hand of God.
REDEMPTION
REMEMBER ' ..... a.joLu-ley (rom tragedy to beahug i .....
REUNION
a suU of Goclg grace and reclcmptioF,
his victory e\'en in the most diflicull ime<
380 
381 R 
Other Life-Changing Fiction by 
REN KINGSBU 
One TLteS&l.y Morning Beyond Tcschly Morning A Time to Dalce 
A Time to Embrace 
Ha!jwa), o Forever 
On Evc), Side 
Wbcre Yesterday Lives 
Maggie's Mirach" 
Sarah's Song 
A Thousand lomormvs (Spring '05) 
382 Other Relationship Books by
GARY S MA LLEY
Men's Relational Toolbox
Fod and Love
One Flame
Love is a Decision (with John Trent) The Blessing (with John Trent)
Bound ly ttonor (with Greg Smallcy) the Two Sides q] Low: (with John Trcm)
383 
Let Me Hold Yol Losjel" by Karcn KingsbuW
is a parent you have taken pictures of your child's first steps, first smile, 
and first Little League game. But what about the laststhe last time they played 
peckaboo, the last time they asked you to pick them up, or ttc last time they 
picked you flowers tiom the garden?
,,{oin best-selling author Karcn Kingsbu.v i this so(n-to-bc classic picture 
book as she celebrates the memories ,t%>ts."
384 
385 
386 
387 
388 
389 
390 
391 
392 
393 FTY N DA I ICTION
I! t AXTI:! l;tS ( () M t! T() C, ETHt ()NE f:INAI T1Mt::
A Deadly Dia{],osis
In tile lifth and final book in The Reden/ption series, plans are being rna 
FAMILY reunion. Nearly all the adult Baxter children have a reason to cel one. 
As the preparations get under way, a deadly diagnosis sends shockwa
the Baxter family and threatens to tear them apart.
A Gloriots Celebraliot
the threat of sorrow, the Baxters share in their most wonderful celebrali, 
all--a moment to remember that love always wins out, no matter how long
struggle, a reminder that God reigns even in the darkest night.
A slory of God's grace d redemplion,
[iis viclory evet i the mosl diIIicll limes.
FIFTH BOOK IN THE REDEMPTION SERIES
,REN KINGSBIJRY is author of nearly thirty books, including the bestRedenplion
and More than 1.4
3ies of Karen's are in print.
GARY SMALLEĽ, wllknown relationship xpert. is the founder of th Smalley 
Relationsh|l Center and the autl"r el several dozen boo],, inc]uding the 
best-selling The Blessi,g and The Language of Love, as wll as Food and Love and 
One Flame.
ISBN 18423-868
Fiction/C, ontemp°r:
394 NGS S