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“If it bothers you, turn away.” The nurse swabbed a wet cotton ball over the faint blue lines that ran along the inside of Ashley’s arm.

Ashley said nothing. She watched the woman slide a needle into her vein, hitting the mark on her first attempt. Instantly a stream of red blood moved up the needle. The liquid was rich looking, and Ashley narrowed her eyes, willing herself to see whether something existed there that would wreak deadly havoc on her life.

The nurse finished with the first vial, wrapped an identification sticker around it, and began to fill a second. As she did, Ashley was struck by the irony.

The blood filling the glass vial sustained her life.

But quite possibly it was the very same stuff that would destroy her. A positive test would effectively remove Landon from her life. She loved him too much to subject him to risk—physical or emotional. No, she’d thought that much out the night she received the news. If she tested positive for HIV she would break things off with Landon forever.

Then there was Cole. If she got sick and died in the next few years, she’d leave him with no parents whatsoever. No one to call his own, except her folks—and though they were healthy, no guarantees existed to assure they’d live long enough to see Cole safely out on his own.

Other scenarios existed, scenarios that had made it difficult for Ashley to sleep these past few days, difficult for her to speak with her family or Landon or even Cole. What if Cole had the virus? What then?

She bit the inside of her lip and watched as the nurse filled the third and final vial. When she was finished, she pulled the needle from Ashley’s arm, pressed a piece of gauze over the small hole, and wrapped a piece of clear tape over it. “Keep that on for an hour.”

“Okay.” Ashley watched the woman place the three filled vials on the tray and start to turn back toward the adjacent room. “Wait…”

The nurse turned around. “Yes?”

“When…when will I know?”

“Things are slow this week.” The woman cocked her head. “It’s Friday. Give us a call Wednesday or Thursday. We should have it all back by then.”

Ashley had made the decision to get her paintings to New York soon—in case the tests turned up something. She’d fly out next Thursday, and though she hoped to have the results by then, she would’ve gladly waited a year for them. Every minute she didn’t know was one more she could pretend she’d never had to come here, that she’d never received the phone call from Marie, never heard that Jean-Claude Pierre was dying.

Fear took the seat beside her and buckled up on the way home, reminding her that until she received a negative test, she might as well assume the results would be positive. After all, Jean-Claude obviously lived his loose lifestyle long before she went to Paris. She should’ve seen it. He’d been too willing to take her out that first night, despite the fact that he was married.

Commitment hadn’t been in Jean-Claude’s vocabulary.

She wondered how he’d remembered her, why he’d found it in himself to give the doctor her name. Certainly if he’d made the rounds as widely as it appeared, she was merely another conquest, a passing fancy.

Something else occurred to her. Maybe it was God’s will that she find out. For the past three days she’d wondered about God, how he figured into this latest devastating turn her life had taken. Was he punishing her? Letting her know that though he forgave her, she would still have to pay for her sins? And with what? Her relationship with Landon? Her son’s health? Her life?

But now—despite fear’s running commentary that her life was over, that she’d never love or laugh again because she was about to get sick and die a horrifying death alone—now she was able to think about God differently.

Maybe he’d given Jean-Claude a divine ability to remember her name so that she would run out and get tested. That way she could have either peace of mind or the wherewithal to protect Landon.

“God, are you there?” Her whispered words sounded above the breeze filtering in through the car vents.

Fear unbuckled itself from the passenger seat and slipped out the window.

God, I figure this…all this is a punishment from you. But—
tears filled her eyes and she blinked to clear her vision—
but my friendship with you is too new, too sweet, and I can’t believe it. If I have this…this virus, it’s because of my choices, but not because you’re punishing me. Right, God?

For a while silence filled the car. Ashley was no longer afraid, but she couldn’t quite hear God, either.
Are you there, Lord? How am I going to get through this if…if
…

She remembered the words from Pastor Mark, words she’d shared with Landon several times in the past few months. They came from Romans, chapter eight:
God works all things out for the good for those who love Him.

All things.

The words soothed Ashley’s soul the way a stroke of yellow might soothe a stormy sky in one of her paintings.

All things for the good. Is that right, God? All things? Even this?

Daughter, yes, even in this I am with you…your rock and your strong fortress.

Ashley gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “God?”

She recognized some of the words from a Bible verse, one that Cole had brought home from church last Sunday. He’d learned a song about God being mighty and powerful, a rock and a strong fortress. Cole liked the fortress part, because his Sunday school teacher had taught them to bring their arms up in a fighting position for that part.

The words were something else, too. A whisper that seemed to come straight from heaven. What was it Landon said? That if people were quiet enough they could hear God, hear him warning them, directing them. Comforting them.

“His voice is still and small,” Landon told her. “Sometimes more of an impression than actual words. And if we don’t get real quiet, we won’t ever hear it.”

For the first time in three days, Ashley’s smile came from within. Almost as if a lighted match of hope had been tossed into the dark cavernous places of her soul. Jesus loved her, and no matter what the test results brought, he would see her through. In fact, as she drove into Bloomington and on toward Clear Creek and her parents’ house, she was sadly calm about all but the worst part of her situation. And that thought troubled her enough that when she pulled into the driveway she had to wait until she stopped crying before she could go in and get Cole.

Yes, God would be with her even if she tested positive, even if she got sick and died of AIDS. She would never lose God.

But she would lose Landon…and Cole.

The very idea made her weep, and her tears put out the small flame of hope and opened the door to fear once more. Nothing she could do would change the high stakes that lay ahead, the life changes that might swiftly come if her blood tested positive. She could do nothing but pray and wait.

And know for certain that the next six days would be the longest in her entire life.

L
ANDON HAD WORKED
the early shift that Friday, and now that he was off he had things to do. Huge things.

A few hours earlier he got hold of Reagan and convinced her to commit to a meeting. The two of them had spent time together before Ashley’s visit, and Landon was certain she needed a friend as much now. Maybe more.

He ran a few errands, and it was just after six o’clock when he stopped by her apartment. Not only did he want to see the baby and encourage her to tell Luke, but he also wanted to show her something.

She opened the door and let him in. For the first fifteen minutes they talked about little Tommy, how quickly he was growing and how he was looking less like a newborn and more like a baby.

“See—” Reagan held him up, her smile taking up most of her face—“he’s filling out. And his eyes are more alert, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” Landon did a gentle tug on the baby’s foot.

“And he looks even more like Luke.”

It was true. The little boy was a miniature of his father. Landon leaned back against the sofa opposite Reagan. “You haven’t told Luke yet.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“No.” Reagan cradled her baby closer to her chest and met Landon’s eyes. “I’m afraid.”

That made sense. The last time Reagan and Luke talked was at the bus station in Bloomington, the afternoon of September 11. Everything that could’ve changed had done so in the months since. “What scares you most?”

Reagan kept her voice quiet, but it held a strain that hadn’t been there before. “I have no right to expect anything of him, Landon. After I let so much time go without answering his calls.” She clenched her teeth and shook her head. “Okay, so he has a son. But he’s moved on, and maybe hearing from me would make him more angry. Maybe he’d yell at me or tell me he hated me or hang up on me.”

“Reagan—” he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees—“you’ll never know if you don’t call.”

“Sometimes I wish someone else would tell him—you, maybe, or Ashley.”

Landon gave her a crooked smile. “She’d do it today if you gave her the go-ahead.”

“I know.” Reagan tilted her head and studied her son. “But that’s just part of it.”

He waited.

She lifted her eyes again. “Maybe I don’t want Luke in my baby’s life. If he’s got this—” she hesitated—“this wacky way of thinking, that there’s no God, no faith, no truth, then what happens when Tommy’s older?”

“You mean old enough to understand his father’s viewpoint?”

“Exactly.” A desperate sigh escaped her. “I can’t imagine letting my son spend summers or holidays with Luke only to have his mind poisoned.”

Landon gave her a few seconds to cool off. When he spoke, he kept his voice kind. “You’re right; that’s scary.” He clasped his hands. “But Luke’s still the baby’s father.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Landon, but I’m not sure.” She kissed her baby’s cheek. “Lots of kids go through life without a father. Look at Cole.”

“Cole…” A grin worked its way up Landon’s cheeks before he could stop it. “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Cole?” The baby began to cry, and Reagan rose to her feet. She bounced him just enough so that he settled back down again.

“Yes, I think in the not-too-distant future he’s going to have a father after all.”

Reagan stopped bouncing. “Landon!” She stared at him. “Did you ask her?”

He stood and came to her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box. “I’ve been saving for three months.” His fingers worked their way between the crack of the box, and he opened the lid. “I had it custom-made.”

Reagan gasped and transferred Tommy’s weight to her right arm. With her free hand she took the box and studied the ring that lay inside. “Landon, it’s beautiful.”

He gazed at the ring, the solitaire at the center and the three small diamonds on each side. One set of three as reminders that the life ahead of them would only be strong if it included both of them and God. The Bible was clear: a cord of three strands is not easily broken. The other three diamonds represented the family they would be the moment they exchanged vows. Not because Landon was obligated to be a father for Cole but because he wanted to.

With all his heart.

He met Reagan’s eyes, and his voice was thick. “She’s coming Thursday with more paintings.” The longing in Landon’s heart swelled until he could barely breathe. “I love her so much, Reagan. I’m going to ask her then.”

“To marry you?”

“Yes.” He looked at the ring again and chuckled. “Think she’ll like it?”

“My goodness, yes, Landon. It’s beautiful.” She looked at it for a moment longer before handing the box back to him.

He closed the lid and slipped it back into his pants pocket. “I’m not sure I’ll survive till then.”

“I didn’t realize the two of you had, you know—” a light shrug played on her shoulders—“that you’d gotten so close.”

“We’ve talked about marriage, but I still think she’ll be surprised.”

Reagan looked at Tommy and then back at Landon. “He’s asleep. I’ll be right back.” She turned and headed through the doorway down a hall. When she came back, she took her spot on the sofa. “Kari and Ryan are getting married in September; is that what you said before?”

Landon nodded. “They’re having the ceremony and reception at the Baxter house—setting up a few tents and inviting maybe a hundred and fifty people. Close friends and family.”

“Sounds beautiful.” Something wistful hung in Reagan’s tone. “Then you and Ashley.” She blew out softly through her nose. “Looks like life is working out pretty well for the Baxters.”

The implication was as clear as the image she made, her heart twisting in pain across from him. He cocked his head and waited until she looked up. “Except for Luke, right?”

“Yes.” Tears fell onto her cheeks, and she brushed at them with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I…I wasn’t going to do this.” She sniffed and searched his eyes. “Sometimes I want to call Luke so badly. Tell him he has a son and beg him to get on the next plane to New York.”

“The thing is, Reagan, you’ll never know.” Landon paused. “Unless you ask him.”

She crossed her arms. “Pray for me, will you? That I’ll get brave enough to call him. He has a right to know. And whatever happens after that, I have to believe it’s for the best.”

Later that night, looking out the window of his apartment, Landon got hold of Ashley and told her about the meeting with Reagan. “I think she’s close.” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to make small talk. The proposal was already on his tongue, begging for release. “She knows she needs to tell him about the baby.”

“Good.” Ashley’s tone was flat. “We need to pray.”

Landon stared at a piece of sky wedged between two buildings. What was that odd note in her voice these past few days? “You okay, Ash?”

“Fine. Just tired. Sorry.”

“You’re still coming Thursday, right?”

“I have my ticket.”

Maybe whatever he was hearing in her voice was his imagination. His concerns hung like so many cobwebs in his mind, and he batted at them, knocking them down so he could concentrate. “Did you decide which pieces you’re bringing?”

“Another one from Sunset Hills, a painting of Bert with his saddle. Then two new ones—one of a girl and boy playing outside the Baxter house, and another of Cole sitting on the bench beneath my parents’ tree, blowing bubbles into a summer breeze.”

“Mmmm.” He settled back in his chair. “I can picture them, Ash. Don’t give them to the gallery without showing me first, okay?”

She gave a soft laugh, but even that sounded strained somehow. “You’re too nice, Landon.”

“I’m honest.” He let his chin fall to his chest and with his free hand he rubbed the muscles in the back of his neck. “The question here is whether
you’re
being honest.”

She hesitated a beat too long. “About what?”

“I’m not sure.” Landon brought his head up again. “I just know that for years I’ve been able to read you—even if you weren’t willing to be read.” He exhaled. “And right now I can hear something in your voice. Something I can’t read without seeing your eyes.”

Again her answer was quick. Too quick. “I’m fine, Landon. Really.”

He let it go. They wound up their conversation and said their good-byes. It wasn’t until after they hung up that he caught something he’d missed at first. She hadn’t told him she loved him. It was the first time in weeks, and it troubled Landon enough that he had half her phone number punched in again before he could stop himself.

Ashley was probably just being Ashley. Worrying that she wasn’t right for him, or that even though he’d told her he was committed to her, somehow he was having doubts. Something like that.

The idea made him smile as he stood and returned the phone to the kitchen. Just six days until he would see her again. Six days. And after that she would never again have to worry about the future, because she wouldn’t be wearing her doubts on her sleeve the way she had for so long.

She’d be wearing his ring.