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 truththat 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.