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His tone grew serious again, quiet and as deep as the ocean. “I love you, too, Ashley. But then—” he paused—“I always have.”

When their call ended, Ashley returned the receiver to the base and saw the flashing
1
in the window of the answering machine. She’d forgotten about the last message. Almost as an afterthought, she pushed the button and turned toward the cupboard. She grabbed a glass and was filling it with water when the voice came on.

“This is Marie from Paris. I run the gallery where you worked several years ago. Your family gave me your number.”

Ashley turned off the faucet, spun around, and stared at the machine.

“I have some information you need to have. It is crucial that you call me.” The caller rattled off a phone number before the message ended.

Ashley set her glass of water on the counter, grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from the drawer near the telephone, and played the message again. This time she wrote down the number and for the longest time, she merely stared at it.

Common sense told her this was about some paperwork issue from her time at the gallery. But a knot formed in Ashley’s stomach, and her hands trembled as she picked up the phone. After so many years, would the gallery contact her about some bookkeeping issue? Would they even care about a detail they’d let go for so many years? And why the urgent phone calls?

She punched in the numbers, then lifted the phone to her ear and waited. From the backyard she could hear Cole’s silly-heart voice singing as he played in the heat of the afternoon.

Doubts—dreadful doubts—hung above her like so many swords, questions about Jean-Claude Pierre and the possibility that this call involved him or the fact that he was Cole’s biological father. But she stayed still so none of the swords would fall and slice her to pieces.

A ringing sounded in her ear once…twice.
God, let this be nothing, please.

“Bonjour.”
The voice belonged to a man.

Ashley cleared her throat and wondered if he spoke English. “Hello.” She returned to the seat near the window and focused her attention on Cole. “I need to speak to Marie, please.”

“Marie?” The connection wasn’t great, but she could understand the man.
“Oui, oui.”

Half a minute passed while Ashley waited. Then a woman came on the line, the same one who had left the message earlier. The same woman who had once, a lifetime ago, told Ashley her art wasn’t welcome in a Paris gallery. “Hello, this is Marie.” Her accent was stronger than Ashley remembered. “How may I help you?”

Ashley looked down and noticed that her knees were knocking together. “This…this is Ashley Baxter. I’m returning your call.”

“Oui,
I’ve tried to reach you. One minute, please. It is busy; I must go where it is quiet.” The background noise gradually faded to silence. “There. Now we can talk.”

For the briefest moment, Ashley wondered if her father was right. Maybe Marie had stumbled onto her Web site and somehow come to see her paintings in a new light. Maybe she wanted to offer her a chance to show her work there in Paris. She held her breath and waited.

“Ashley, I have not so good news for you.”

The room tilted. Ashley steadied her gaze on Cole. “What…what is the problem?”

“You remember Jean-Claude Pierre? The artist featured at our gallery when you were here?”

“Yes.” Ashley’s heart was in her throat, and she could barely concentrate.
Get it out, woman. Just say it.

“He is dying.”

The moment the words hit her, Ashley was seized by a wave of fear and nausea. Jean-Claude? Dying? Of what? And why would the news involve her? Before she could ponder that, before she had time even to inhale, the woman continued.

“Jean-Claude’s doctor prepared a list of names, people to call with the details.” She hesitated, her accent thick. “You, Ashley, are on the list.”

“I…I don’t understand.” The voice was hers, but she was a million miles away. Somewhere in Central Park, sitting beside Landon, kissing him, whispering promises of forever to him. She opened her mouth and forced another few words through her lips. “I haven’t stayed in touch with Jean-Claude.”

“Ashley…” The woman waited and for the first time, her voice held a modicum of sensitivity. “Jean-Claude is dying of Acquired Immuno-Deficiency Syndrome.”

A rushing sound filled Ashley’s senses, and Marie’s words ran together. Immuno something…a deficiency of some kind? A syndrome? What did that have to do with her? And why did Marie sound so grim? Ashley dug her fingernails into her brow. From outside Cole waved at her and flashed her a lopsided grin.

She waved back and somehow found her voice. “I don’t know what…what you mean.”

The woman sighed, and the weight of that sound hit Ashley from a continent away. “It is our law that doctors do what they can to alert people who…who have had contact with the patient.”

Ashley wanted to run, but nowhere offered her an escape from the freight train bearing down on her. She was stuck on the tracks, her feet anchored in cement, with no way out. She tried again to understand. “Jean-Claude has…”

“He has AIDS, Ashley. I’m sorry.”

AIDS? Jean-Claude has AIDS?

Ashley made it through the rest of the phone call, stood, and then collapsed against the window. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything but stare out the window at Cole and consider the only questions that still mattered.

Had Jean-Claude gotten the virus before or after her time with him? And if it was before, if she’d been carrying the deadly disease all this time, how much longer until she herself would die?

Thoughts of Landon tugged at her attention, but her mind was too busy with Cole. She held her hand up to the window and watched him chattering happily to himself, playing without a care in the world.

“Cole…,” she whispered. “What have I done?” Another thought hit her, this one more terrible than the others. If she’d been infected, what about her child? It was possible, wasn’t it? That this would affect Cole, too? Her gaze froze on him, and she slid to the floor.

The freight train hit then.

Everything hopeful about her future was suddenly and swiftly taken from her, obliterated on a line of tracks that led back five years. Back to a small art gallery in Paris and a series of decisions from which there now seemed no escape, no hope, no return.

Not for her or Cole or Landon.

Not for any of them. Not ever again.

J
OHN TOOK THE CALL
from Brooke just after noon.

“Dad, come quick.” Her serious tone spoke volumes. “Some of Maddie’s tests came back. I need to talk to you.”

It took John a heartbeat to catch his breath. They’d been waiting for word about Maddie for five days now. “I’ll be right there.”

It was all he could do to keep himself from speeding. Obviously they’d found something; otherwise Brooke wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him.

Fifteen minutes later he rounded the corner into Maddie’s hospital room and found the place full. Brooke, Peter, Dr. Ruiz, and three other physicians John recognized as new specialists on staff.

The tension between Brooke and Peter still seemed thick, but John turned his attention to his daughter. “How is she?”

“Dad…” Brooke pulled herself away from the group. Her eyes glistened as they met his. A catch sounded in her voice when she tried to talk. “She…she doesn’t have cancer.” Her forehead fell against John’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

John silently thanked God before taking the time to exhale. He stroked Brooke’s back and closed his eyes. His words were soaked in relief. “God is good.”

“Yes.” Brooke sniffed and looked up to study his face. “He heard my prayers. Not only is Maddie responding to the antibiotics, but Dr. Ruiz thinks he’s found the problem.” A happy sob came from Brooke’s throat, and she lifted her fingers to her mouth. She let her arms fall to her sides, took a step back, and shook her head. “It’s the simplest thing, Dad.”

Dr. Ruiz approached them and gave John a confident smile. “The problem’s in her bladder.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. “An anomaly in her system causes it to never completely drain.”

“Reflux.” John crossed his arms.

“Exactly.” Dr. Ruiz looked from John to Brooke and back again. “Which makes her prone to a type of infection that rarely presents with anything but a high fever and high white count. Each bout damages her system, but it looks like we’ve caught the problem in time. The damage is minimal and reversible.”

Brooke gripped John’s forearm. “We can have a procedure done to correct the problem. It’s an outpatient laser surgery.” She shrugged and a few happy tears slipped onto her cheeks. “And that’ll be it. No more fevers, no more sickness. Mystery solved!”

Maddie stirred in the bed beyond them and blinked her eyes. John watched her look about the room until her eyes fell on him. “Hi, Papa.” She yawned. “What’re you doing here?”

John went to her and took her hand in his. He was overwhelmed with gratitude, struck by God’s goodness, barely able to find his voice. “Hi, sweetheart.” He bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m hearing the good news that you’re getting better.”

She grinned. “I
feel
better.”

Dr. Ruiz checked the chart in his hand and directed his attention to Peter. “Let us know when you’d like to schedule the procedure. The sooner the better.”

The doctor didn’t need to spell out the reasons.

Any time a child succumbed to an infection as swift and powerful as the one that had been attacking Maddie, there were risks. The infection could spread throughout her system and move into her bloodstream. If the right antibiotics weren’t administered quickly, she could even die. Now that they’d found the source of her problem, the procedure to repair her bladder should be done as soon as possible.

Dr. Ruiz and the other doctors left the room, and John looked at Peter. His attention was on Maddie, so John shifted his gaze to Brooke. She rolled her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. However good the news about Maddie, it hadn’t eased things between Brooke and Peter.

John caught Brooke’s eye. “Have you told your mother?”

“No one.” She grinned. “I wanted you to hear it from Dr. Ruiz before we told the family.”

A long breath made its way from John. He’d been terrified about what they might find wrong with Maddie. Now she could be home in a day or so. The joy of that news was still making its way to the corners of his heart, replacing the fear that had built up there.

“Well—” John ran his hand over the back of Maddie’s head—“Papa’s gotta run. I’ll call Grandma and let her know you’re feeling better, okay?”

“Okay.” Maddie grinned. “Tell Cole I’ll race him next time I’m over.”

John’s heart swelled. “I’ll tell him, sweetie.” He looked at Peter. “Congratulations.”

Peter nodded. “We should’ve done it sooner. Then she wouldn’t have any kidney damage.”

“It’s reversible, Peter!” Brooke tossed her hands up, her voice a study in controlled frustration. “Didn’t you hear Dr. Ruiz?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He flashed her a pointed look. “I wanted this two months ago, but you thought I was crazy.”

No wonder things were tense between them. John opened his mouth to tell them both to let it go, to celebrate the victory at hand, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place, not with his adult married children; not unless they asked his advice. He gave a little cough and took a few steps toward the door. “I’ll let the others know.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Brooke walked to him and hugged him once more. In a voice that was barely audible she whispered, “Pray for us.”

John nodded and waved at Peter. “See you soon.”

“Yeah.” Peter dug his hands in his pockets and moved to the spot near Maddie’s bed.

The hallways were empty as John made his way off the floor and down to the lobby. Whatever strain Maddie’s illness had placed on Brooke and Peter’s marriage, it seemed silly to nurse it now when they’d received such wonderful news. How different the scene would’ve been if the news had been something terrible—cancer, even.

John shuddered.

He was near the front doors of the hospital when he spotted Ashley heading up the main walkway. Probably coming to visit Maddie. When she didn’t see him, John came to a stop and studied her. She looked upset, as though she were carrying the world’s troubles in her purse. For the first time in months, she looked like the old Ashley, her arms clutched tight to her waist, eyes dark and brooding.

She came through the front doors before she saw him; then she, too, stopped. She flashed him a smile that didn’t even pretend to be genuine. “Dad, what’re you doing here?”

“Brooke called me.” He crooked his arm around Ashley’s neck and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “They got Maddie’s test results.”

“And…?” Ashley froze, her eyes locked on his.

“It’s a problem with her bladder. They’ll need to schedule a procedure, but otherwise she’ll be fine.” He shook his head. “It’s wonderful news.”

“Oh, Dad…” Ashley’s expression softened. “I was so worried.”

“We all were.” John bit his lip. “The possibilities were terrifying.”

Something flashed in Ashley’s eyes, anxiety, maybe, or fear. But this time her smile was more genuine. “I’ll have to stop up there and congratulate them. They must be so relieved.”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for? To see Maddie?”

The question seemed to catch Ashley off guard. She thought for a moment and gave a few quick shakes of her head. “No…I mean, yes. That, too.”

“What else?”

She shrugged and uttered a single, quiet laugh, one without a trace of humor. “Just some tests at the lab. Routine stuff.” Her gaze shifted down a hallway a few yards away. “It’s down that way, right?”

“Right.” John searched her eyes. Something about the way she was acting wasn’t quite right. “What’s the test for?”

“Nothing, really.” The laugh again. “Actually I requested it. Just a blood workup—cholesterol, blood sugar, mineral check.”

No matter how old his children got, John was always interested in their health. He lowered his brow and tried to keep his tone casual. “Have you been sick?”

“No, Dad.” Ashley patted his shoulder. Her voice told him he was worrying about nothing. “Everything’s fine. I hate needles, that’s all. It’s been a few years since I had it checked. No big deal.”

“Okay.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“Kari’s shower?” This time her smile reached her eyes. “Of course. We’ll all be there.”

They said good-bye.

John’s heartbeat slowed to normal. The ordeal with Maddie clearly had him on edge, as though some sort of tragedy was right around the corner. If not with her, then maybe with Ashley or Landon or Elizabeth.

He made a mental note. That night when he brought his cares to God in prayer, he’d have to talk about this. Anxiety would get him nowhere, and whenever he sensed himself losing the battle to his worries, it was time to ask God for another dose of peace.

In this case, maybe two or three doses.

Ashley turned down the hallway and headed for the lab, but it wasn’t until she was sure her father was gone that she stopped, dropped to a nearby bench, and covered her face with her hands.

Was she crazy? How could she have her blood tested here at the hospital where her father saw patients and knew every doctor on staff? She should’ve gone to Indianapolis or one of the small towns between here and there, a place where no one would know her.

She drew in a slow breath and let her hands fall to her lap. Yes, that’s what she would do. Her mother was watching Cole. She could call and say she had a few extra errands to run, ask her mother to watch him a little longer. She’d convinced herself that since blood work was confidential, her father would never find out. But of course he would. He might get curious and ask her doctor or check on the results himself. He would have access to her files, for goodness’ sake.

Her legs were wobbly as she headed back to the lobby. She went up to Maddie’s room and passed on her congratulations to Brooke and Peter—neither of whom seemed overjoyed with the situation. Then she gave Maddie a kiss and said her good-byes.

Forty-five minutes later she drove into the parking lot of a small regional hospital outside of Indianapolis. In her hands she had her doctor’s orders for a complete blood workup, including an HIV test. The hospital was older and smaller than St. Anne’s, and the grounds weren’t as well kept.

Ashley found the lab and presented her papers.

“Wait here.” The tech disappeared through a door behind the counter.

Five minutes passed, and Ashley’s heart beat strangely within her.
Beat, beat.
Silence.
Double-beat.
Silence.
Double-beat. Beat. Beat.
A layer of perspiration broke out on her forehead, and black dots circled the air in front of her. What was happening to her, and why did she feel so light-headed? What was she doing? Getting her blood drawn at some strange hospital because she didn’t want anyone to see her? The entire ordeal was a nightmare, as though it were someone else’s life and not her own.

She had a friendship with God now. She treasured Cole and loved Landon. She wasn’t supposed to hear that Jean-Claude Pierre was dying of AIDS. It wasn’t possible.

An image came to mind. Jean-Claude crossing a Paris street, arm in arm with a young blond man in the days after she’d stopped seeing him. Hadn’t it occurred to her then? Buried deep beneath the surface of her soul, hadn’t she known that if Jean-Claude was that promiscuous, she herself had already been put at risk?

The tech was back. “Follow me.” She led Ashley through a different door to a counter with three partitioned sections. A stool stood in front of each of the three. “Take the first seat.”

Ashley set her purse on the floor and slid the stool out from the counter. Carefully, mindful of the fact that she still felt faint, she swung herself onto the cushioned seat.

“Someone will be right with you.” The tech was neither rude nor welcoming. A robotic figure in some kind of bizarre drama.

Another three minutes passed, and a woman appeared from an adjacent room. She slipped on a pair of gloves and set a tray of vials and needles on the counter in front of Ashley. “Quite a few tests, huh?” Her voice was kind, but she looked tired, worn-out, as though she’d been through much in her life.

“Yes.” Ashley managed a smile. “It’s part of a checkup.”

The nurse scrutinized the paperwork. “Sort of far from home for a checkup.”

Ashley and the woman locked eyes, and in that instant Ashley knew. The woman understood why she was here, why she had driven forty miles to have her blood drawn.

“It’s okay.” The woman rested her hands on the counter. “No one’s more confidential than we are.” She pointed at Ashley’s left arm. “Set it up here and make a fist.”

Ashley wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to confide in this nurse, tell her how terrified she felt and how she’d just learned that a man she’d slept with was dying of AIDS. But the truth was so horrible, she could barely voice it to herself, let alone to a stranger. Instead she lifted her arm onto the counter and squeezed her fingers together.

The woman wrapped a lightweight rubber tube around Ashley’s upper arm and met her eyes again. “This stuff make you queasy?”

“No.” Ashley shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Her words echoed in her soul. Fine? She was fine? Nothing in the world was fine. Two days ago she was camped out in one of her Americana paintings. But now…now her life—and maybe Cole’s—hung in the balance. Scared to death, yes, but definitely not fine.