"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.

192.

REUNION.

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.

193.

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 194.

REUNION.

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.

196.

REUNION.

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 girlsat 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 198 REUNION.

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 200 REUNION.

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.