This afternoon, Alex was helping Beth prepare one of Josh's favorite desserts while he attended a meeting. His favorite Peanut Butter Pound Cake recipe had been passed down from his great-grandmother.

Alex shook her head in amazement. "I can't believe there are two sticks of butter in this recipe."

"We don't eat it every day." Beth teased her health-conscious neighbor. "Although . . . it does make a great breakfast snack."

Alex puckered her face.

"Wait until you see the recipe for chocolate sauce I serve with it."

"Great. More fat and sugar." Alex sighed and cracked a second egg into a mixing cup. "Can you make that on your own tonight?"

"I can if you will cut up the dark and milk chocolate bars for me."

"No problem. That takes less time than rushing you to the ER."

Beth mock-grimaced.

Alex placed the egg carton back in the fridge. "You're feeling better, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am. I have less pain. I think I'm acclimating to the medication too."

"That's good and bad news."

"I know. I can only hope I'll have the strength to get off this stuff when I'm healed."

"You will," Alex said. "You will. But it may take time."

The look on Josh's face when he learned Beth had cooked for him made her extra effort worthwhile. The meal turned out just as she had planned, and so did her choice of gifts.

She had known better than to spend a lot of money so she put extra thought into her selection. She had found just the right thing while shopping at a craft store with Alex.

"It's great." Josh admired the simple, wood plaque that read: Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy.

"You'll be a perfect daddy," she told him. "I know, because you're a perfect husband."

Josh shook his head. "Not sure I deserve that. I've let you down in the past few months. I hope I don't do that again." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I just want you to be well."

"We'll get through this a day at a time," Beth said. She placed her chin in her hand and looked into his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about your accounting problems on the road?"

Color drained from her husband's cheeks. "I didn't want to bother you with it. How did you find out?"

"Bob Bradford called to check on me this morning when you were out."

"Did he tell you how much money is missing?"

"Yes. Almost $50,000. That's a lot of money. What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet." Josh ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair.

"Didn't you just hire that merchandise guy? Mitch something?"

"Mitch Raider. I'm not sure he's the problem."

"Who else could it be?"

Josh hesitated. "Ryan is his supervisor."

"You don't think-"

"I'm not jumping to conclusions. I need time to think it through. We're working on a plan to get to the bottom of it."

Josh's cell phone interrupted their conversation. He appeared to be puzzled by the caller ID. "It's Langston Wheeler from the record label." He punched the on button.

"Hey, man. What's up?" Josh asked, fiddling with the napkin in his lap, a blank expression on his face.

Beth watched her husband talk. She'd forgotten how handsome he was.

"Good. We're good. No, no problem. We've just finished supper." Josh winked at her.

What a flirt.

"The tour is going great." He drummed his fingers on the table.

Beth remembered why she had fallen in love with him. Even now, she could lose herself in his thick, Southern accent. It was a drawl that put Kentucky boys to shame.

"Okay, give me the good news first." Josh ran his fingers through his hair. "Really? No kidding? Man, that's great!" He stood and then paced back and forth while chatting with the record label executive.

Beth readjusted her position, trying to get comfortable.

"Thanks for letting me know," he said, and then remembering how Langston had begun the conversation, he asked, "So what's the bad news?"

A few seconds later, he laughed.

What a great laugh he had.

"Seriously? That's awesome." Josh stared into her eyes in anticipation of sharing his news. "Okay. Thanks, man. Thanks!"

He punched the end-call button and took a deep breath. "I've been nominated for three Noah Awards." A big smile spread across his face.

"Josh . . . that's wonderful!" She jumped up and hugged his neck. "God is so good."

"Yes. He is. Even to those of us who don't deserve it."

"You deserve it many times over." She kissed him on the cheek. "You've worked hard, and you're a good man. I'm proud of you." She settled back into her seat. "So what's the bad news?"

He sighed. "Langston said I didn't make the cut for female vocalist of the year."

"That's bad." She laughed. "Ouch! The baby kicked me!"

"Really?"

"Here." She placed his hand on her stomach.

He waited, staring into her eyes. "I feel it!"

"I love you, honey."

"I love you too," Josh bent toward her and placed his mouth on hers.

His kiss reassured her. All of the feelings she'd had on hold for the last few months returned. The fear and depression, the worries and the pain, now faded into the distant past.

She smiled, took him by the hand, and led him down the hallway to their bedroom.

The next day, Josh stared at the black and white tiles lining the hallway outside the CT scan room. The unlit "in use" light above the door reminded him of those that hung in a recording studio. While an important medical evaluation could never be compared to the process of recording, each had its own significance, as evidenced by the hundreds of letters he received each month from people who said their lives had been changed by his music.

While his work was far less critical than the doctor who would read Beth's scan results, a special lyric in a time of need could soften a heart or soothe a soul. He had heard once that all music was of God, but some had been modified to exalt man. Something about that made sense to him, and he took pride in the kind of music he wrote and sang. He had done his best to praise God with his tunes, with his life. Until recently, he had believed that he had succeeded.

A technician walked by, her sneakers screeching on freshly washed floors. It was just another workday for her. But it was a critical one for his wife. If Beth's artery didn't show improvement soon, she could be facing surgery.

Josh gazed down the long hallway that led to another part of the imaging facility. The tiles twisted around the corner, forming a new pattern where they shifted directions to places unknown.

The light over the scan room door began thumping. Off. On. The rhythm annoyed him. The simple pulse of it mocked his concern for what the machine might find.

About ten minutes later, the imaging room door opened and Beth walked out.

"How did it go?" He handed her the sweater he had been holding.

"She wouldn't say," Beth told him. "But I hope it's good news, so I can cut down on the narcotics."

A week later Beth watched Alex remove a morphine patch from the package. She peeled off the protective strip and applied the patch to Beth's upper arm.

"All set," Alex said, before tossing the waste paper into a nearby trashcan. "I need to wash my hands. Make yourself comfortable and try to relax."

Beth stretched out on the bed, the warmth of it drawing her in. She'd had little energy since trying to step down her morphine last week, and her headaches had worsened. While she didn't want to renege on her promise to Josh to taper off the drugs, fear and doubt now pounded in her temple. Things had gone well the week of his birthday and, at first, her goal had seemed attainable. But she had become less enthusiastic as her symptoms multiplied. She'd battled serious bouts of depression, dizziness, and fatigue, and she couldn't stop sneezing.

But it was the pain that affected her the most.

Once in a while, when the pounding was relentless, or despair left her feeling out of control, she again wished that God had taken her to be with him that day in the ambulance. She had felt so free and at peace. Something she hadn't known since that time.

She could close her eyes and almost go back to that place now. Yet, the responsibilities of this life always called her back. She must fight for her child, if not for herself. This baby represented God's gift of a second chance in so many ways.

She had been blessed with a husband who loved her, provided for her, and shared her faith. For far too long she had lied to him. A sin of omission.

Beth had much more to tell him, when it was time. How she planned to make up for the sins in her life. How she loved him beyond comprehension. And how much she appreciated him standing by her through all of this.

But for now, especially with the fluctuation of narcotics in her system, it was impossible to express her feelings about anything related to the abortion. Thoughts tumbled in her head like children playing in a space ball: erratic and out of control.

Hopefully, one day, she would be able to talk about her experience, maybe even have a positive impact on other women-those who had chosen an abortion. Or those who could still be stopped from believing the lie . . . as she had done so long ago.

The nurse stepped into the room. "Bethany McKinney?"

Beth swallowed hard, looking around, scared once again. A calendar on the wall reminded her that Christmas wasn't far away. Her twentieth birthday wouldn't be far behind. A birthday this child will never see. Bethany squeezed her eyes shut for a second, pushing back the horrible reminder. She should have asked a friend to come with her. Encourage her. But this way, no one would know. The truth would never be revealed.

"Bethany?" This time, the nurse's voice was more tender. "Are you OK?"

She stood and straightened to her full five feet, six inches. Her parents had raised her to be independent, to think for herself. She could do this.

So what if they wouldn't agree with her decision? Besides, it wasn't really a pregnancy. At seven weeks, the fetus was only a cluster of cells, an inconvenient cluster of cells at that.

That's what the counselor had said.

She had reminded Beth that it was a woman's right to do what was best for her. To plan her own life. To have children when it was time.

Beth wanted a career first and a family later. Everything had to come in the right order. First comes love. Then comes marriage.

Whatever. She was long past childish nursery rhymes and childlike guilt.

Besides, this was better for the baby.

Children need a good start in life. Two parents. A stable home.

Of course, she was doing the right thing.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm ready." She sucked in her breath and followed the nurse into a sterile hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. No more indecision.

She was ready to get this done and move on.

The sound of Josh's voice roused Beth from her lifelike dream. She sat up and looked around the room. Why was he here? Panic set in. Something must be wrong. Josh should be on the road.

Then she heard music. Followed by static.

It was the radio. Alex must have turned it on, tuning in to her favorite Christian music station.

Josh's new song, Listen to Me, was playing.

Listen, O Lord, to my cries for mercy As David prayed so long ago Listen, O Lord, to my call for freedom From my sin that only you can know Listen, O Lord, to my plea for forgiveness That only you can bestow I worship you for all your greatness And thank you for your promises given You keep your word forever and ever And send your Son to heal our nation Then you bless, restore, and heal my soul Beth pulled the covers closer to her shivering body. Thank you, Lord, for your promises. And for putting this man in my life.

"Here you go." Alex set a steaming cup of milk in front of Beth.

"That smells delicious. Thanks."

"I made it with rose syrup."

Beth picked up the sturdy mug and took a sip of the aromatic liquid. "It smells like a rose garden. You didn't . . ." She thought back to the beautiful floribunda bushes in Alex's backyard last summer.

Alex grinned. "No. I didn't make the syrup from my personal stock of petals. But it's easy to do, if you ever want to try it. It's just organic sugar, water, and rose petals steeped together."

"I'll put that on my to-do list," Beth said. "Right after finding a cure for the common cold and achieving world peace. Maybe I should figure a way off these drugs too," she scowled. She'd had to go back to her original dose of morphine yesterday.