"How long will this take?"

"Most of our patients leave within two hours of the procedure. We follow federal guidelines."

"That's good," was all Bethany could think to say.

"Have you considered options?" The woman asked matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you certify that you have been counseled about other options?"

"Yes, I understand." Bethany bit her lip.

"Sign here, please." The woman gave her the clipboard and the pen.

After Bethany signed the paper, the woman stamped it with a notary insignia, signed it, and placed it in a folder.

She opened the door to a small antechamber and motioned for Bethany to follow her. "There's a bathroom to your right. You'll need to put on a gown. They're on the shelf." She pointed to everything as she spoke. "There's a locker to store your clothes and personal belongings. If you have one with you, please turn your phone off and leave it in the locker. Once you are finished, take a seat here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Within a few minutes of Bethany completing her instructions, another older lady escorted her into a medical suite off the small room. The gray-haired woman looked like somebody's grandmother and smelled of gingerbread.

"Have a seat up here," she said. "And lie down."

Bethany's hands trembled as she did what she was told.

"Place your feet in these stirrups and try to get comfortable." She helped Bethany adjust her body. "Slide down a bit."

The grandmother-nurse exuded warmth when she explained about the procedure. "The doctor will use the suction aspiration method. It won't take more than fifteen minutes. We'll give you a list of dos and don'ts when you are ready to leave. Okay?"

"Okay." Bethany wiped a tear from her eye.

"Is this your first abortion?"

"Yes."

"You will do fine, dear. Don't be afraid. One day you will have children when the time is right."

Bethany nodded. "Will I feel anything?"

"You will likely have cramps or a slight tugging sensation. I'm about to give you a shot to calm you and a local anesthesia, which will numb your pain. You may have some nausea or sweating. That's completely normal."

Bethany's urge to run screaming out of the room was immediately met by a prick of her skin. The antidote to her fear had been applied. Yet nothing could take away the feeling of betrayal and dread that had begun to set in.

When the doctor entered the room, she knew she had made a mistake. But the sense of pain and regret emerging from deep inside her was somehow lost in the moment. Speaking few words, the doctor went about his work.

Present Day "Are you sure you want to do this?" Alex asked.

"I've never been more certain of anything," Beth said. "I'm ready."

If she could break free of the drugs, she could prove to God that she was doing her best-and then everything would be okay with her baby. At least, that's what she hoped. She was willing to pay the penance. But that didn't make it easier.

A few hours later, spiders of pain began to crawl up and down her legs. She rubbed her hand along her calf muscles in an attempt to bring relief. The leg pain was followed by sweat and clamminess. Soon, a snaking discomfort slithered through her insides.

Two days later, her craving for the narcotics raged within her system, and she wondered if she had made the wrong decision. Was it possible to deal with this without checking into a hospital?

Yet, she knew, if she did, Josh would have to know. She could not face him if she failed again.

The pain and restlessness interrupted her sleep. She would get up each night, walk around the room, and pray. Alex slept in the chair by the bed. She stayed by her side and walked with her. When Beth's body and mind were exhausted, they would catch an hour or two of sleep.

They were both tired. But Alex always endured, no matter what. Even during Beth's temper tantrums. Her moods were as unpredictable as her symptoms. But Alex never appeared to be offended. She refused to accept anything but the steadfast belief that Beth could do this.

Beth suspected that Alex spoke with Dr. Abrams each day to discuss their progress. That thought reassured her. It likely bolstered Alex too. The growing relationship between her caregiver and her doctor had been a positive side effect of Beth's illness.

Step-down days were the worst. There were times when she wanted to crawl outside her skin. The restlessness was a hunger that couldn't be satisfied. And she had uncanny bouts of sneezing. All signs that her body was being extricated from the bonds of its captor.

In two weeks, she had gone from seventy-five milligrams to twenty-five milligrams of morphine, and she couldn't wait to tell Josh. She knew he would be proud of her, but she was determined to surprise him-face to face, when he returned home from the road. He would be here soon, giving her a reason to stay strong.

She needed the boost because her worst symptoms could very well lie ahead. Today would be her first without any narcotics at all. She could already feel the tug between desire and determination. Insufferable anxiety would follow.

The child inside her stirred. Dear Lord, please ease my baby.

"Let's have a cup of tea and lunch," Alex suggested, peeking her head into the living room where Beth sat. "You have to keep your strength up. Besides, the baby needs nutrition."

Alex always knew what to say. Beth nodded and stood on shaky legs. She didn't care that much about eating, but she wanted her child to be well.

They walked together into the kitchen, where Alex had laid out an English tea, using Beth's best china.

"Oh, my!" Beth hiccupped. "How wonderful."

"Chicken salad sandwiches and grape cake with mascarpone whipped cream for dessert." Alex's eyes sparkled as she watched Beth's reaction. "We're celebrating your first day without the drugs."

After Alex said grace, Beth unfolded her napkin and picked up her fork for a bite of the dessert.

"So how does Dr. Abrams say I'm doing?" Beth asked.

A mischievous grin spread across Alex's face. "How did you know I had been consulting with him?"

"You don't think I expected you to let me do this on my own, do you?" Beth sighed. "Yum. That's great cake!"

"Eat your sandwich first." Alex gave her a stern look.

"You didn't answer my first question." Beth placed her fork on the table and picked up a quarter of her sandwich.

"Ben said he's proud of you," Alex blushed.

"You're becoming close, aren't you?" Beth asked while chewing.

"I hope so. I really like him." Alex scrunched her face, sending a posse of freckles upward toward her aqua-blue eyes.

"I'm praying for you both," Beth said. "He's a lucky man." She crunched on a carrot stick. "Does he have any idea how good you cook?"

Alex smiled, and then sobered. "Thank you for praying for him. He's seeking spiritual direction right now."

"No wonder God has you in his life," Beth said. "I'm so thankful for the good things that have come from the bad." She placed her hand on her tummy.

Two days later, Beth sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She could now dare to believe that she was free. Alex had been a strong and unwavering coach for the past two-and-a-half weeks. She had coaxed when Beth showed weakness and screamed when Beth had become belligerent. She had wiped tears-and even shared them-when Beth cried in desperation. Then she had prayed over her with a sweet and gentle spirit, which so eloquently revealed the heart of a friend.

The painkillers, now gone from Beth's system, had once been necessary to keep the devastating pain at bay, but they had also lured her with beautiful lies that she could forget her past, masking the truth of her situation.

She'd had to wean herself not only from the drugs but also from the denial that had lived inside her for years. She'd had to come to the realization that the only way to find true forgiveness was through repentance and confession.

God had forgiven her a long time ago. But she had never forgiven herself. She would never forget the past, but she could now put it behind her.

With a shovel in hand, she spaded the loose soil alongside her back garden fence. It was a great place to plant summer flowers-and to bury her past.

She took a breath of fresh spring air and looked around. New life exploded in every direction. The dogwood trees were in full bloom, and the purple clematis wound their way around the trellis beside the patio.

Gratitude filled Beth's spirit to overflowing. Many difficult days were now behind her, and she looked to the future with the eyes of faith.

She slipped the rusty red bear inside the gossamer bag she had made for him and gently placed the bag into the hole. Then, shovel-by-shovel, she covered it with dirt.

42.

Present Day Ryan, can I see you in the back lounge?"

Josh's lithe, sandy-haired road manager cracked open a bottle of spring water and took a long swig before answering. "Sure, man. What's up?"

Without comment, Josh led the way through the bunkroom, careful not to awaken those already sleeping. He closed the bunkroom door behind them. "Have a seat."

Ryan flashed a tentative smile and lowered himself onto the left-side sofa.

"I didn't want it to come to this, but I have no choice," Josh said, watching Ryan shift slightly in his seat. "Remember when we talked about the missing merchandise money a while back?"

Ryan nodded.

"I had hoped it would work itself out. That we would find out it was a mistake. You know, accidental."

Ryan looked directly at him, his eyes intense, but said nothing.

"It appears it's no accident." Josh ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat opposite his adversary. "Someone is stealing from me."

"Do you know who it is?" Ryan's mouth twitched, his expression wavering between surprise and affirmation. "Remember what I told you-"

Josh held up his right hand, signaling for Ryan to stop. "Are you stealing from me, man?"

"Josh . . . me? No. Why would you think that?"

"Because I've seen both sets of books and the wrong set is in your handwriting."

"What? Two? That's impossible." His road manager's lip quivered. "Are you kidding?"

"I wish I was," Josh cleared his throat and watched desperation, and then inspiration, cross Ryan's face.

"Now I get it . . . I've been set up." Ryan slapped his thigh. "Sometimes, when Mitch turns in his papers, I rewrite them. You know what a perfectionist I am." His eyes pleaded for a connection.

"That doesn't explain everything."

"C'mon, man. It's not what you think." Ryan's gaze moved from Josh to the floor and back again. He paused to take a breath. "Hear me out, please. Your problem is with Mitch and Danny."

"How can you say that?" Josh shook his head. Why couldn't Ryan just admit his offense? He drew in a deep breath and considered his words. "So how do you know that?"

"Because Danny offered to cut me in when I questioned him. Remember when we talked before?" Ryan sounded so believable. "I know I should have followed up with you about it before now. But I wanted to wait until this trip was over. You have so much on your-"

"So you just found out about it?"

"Yeah, man, I promise. Just this week."

Could Ryan be telling the truth? It was possible that Mitch could doctor the books on his own.

But Danny? No way was he involved.

"I know you think Danny is perfect. But he's not the loyal, meek little Christian you think he is. He's a lot different when he's with the rest of the guys," Ryan snorted. "I've always thought he was capable of something like this. He's a two-faced-"

"Stop it." Josh had had enough. "Where's your proof that Mitch and Danny are involved?"

"I realize this makes me look culpable. I should have said something sooner, but I've suspected for a while that Danny and Mitch were stealing from you." He lowered his voice as if he feared someone would hear him above the roar of the bus engine beneath them.

"But can you prove it?"

Ryan stared out the window of the bus for a moment, looking into the darkness. "I have proof at my house," he said. "I have the original merchandise paperwork in my files. The sales reports that are in Mitch's handwriting." Ryan's confidence seemed to grow with every word he spoke. "I wish I had brought this to you earlier. I had really hoped I was wrong, but now I know I wasn't."

"When can I see the evidence?"

"This week."

Josh rummaged through his bag for his songwriting journal and tore out a blank piece of paper. He scribbled Bob Bradford's office address on it. "Here," he said, holding the paper out to his road manager. "Meet me at my accountant's office at 9:30 a.m. on Tuesday."

Ryan rose to his feet. "I will be happy to."