"Her protocol requires myeloablative therapy, total immune destruction, because her remission was so difficult to achieve and the cancer is tenacious. There's a tremendous risk of infection and so many factors. But we're hopeful." Cinda sounded weary, as well.

"How's Kelsey?"

"Excited. Very weak."

Jill shook off the sudden dread. "I know this will work. Is Morgan-does Morgan know what to do?"

"The center is in communication with him. He gave the final consent and passed the physical exam that accompanied his counseling. Once Kelsey is ready, they'll do the transplant."

Oh, Morgan. She tried not to envy him.

"Keep praying."

"Of course." Only she hadn't. She'd let a few innocent words drive her faith away. What right had she to question God's wisdom? If He judged her unworthy, who was she to argue? Twice the Lord had found her unacceptable. Yet now He received Morgan? Stop it! He was God. He could choose as He liked. This wasn't about her.

"Yes, I'll pray, Cinda."

"Add one or two for finances. I don't know how we'll pay for everything. We've already mortgaged the house and ... well, just include that in your prayers. I couldn't bear to refuse Kelsey a treatment simply because we couldn't pay."

Jill's heart thumped. "No, of course not. That's an important prayer."

Cinda sighed. "It doesn't sound right to worry about money. I know the Lord will provide."

"It's still important to ask." Jill took a chance. "Give Kelsey my love."

"She sends you hers."

Jill gripped the receiver. Was that just a platitude, or had Kelsey actually said it? She pressed her free hand against the sob rising in her chest. The sweet balm of the possibility chased away the shadows. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do." She rolled her lips in tightly as tears threatened. "And how things go."

"I will."

"Thank you." She hung up and drew a deep breath, then turned to Shelly and Brett. "The transplant's on. Morgan matched."

They both congratulated her and asked more questions than she could answer. Morgan would have the answers. Doubtless he'd been given all the details he'd need in order to go forward, to help their daughter, to save her life. Jill played the last hand without thinking and ended up with all but two of the points, but she didn't care.

Kelsey was going to be all right. After Shelly and Brett went home, she took out her Bible and read the Psalms. Praise be to the Lord, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song. Peace filled her. She felt closer to His love than she ever had. Sweet consolation. Had she ever known it so completely before?

She went to bed, knowing she would sleep better than she had been. She dropped off right away, but there was pain, tight wrenching pain that seized her belly from the sides and across her lower back, then funneled up the front in mounting intensity. Push. She had to push. Sweat ran into her eyes and her mouth was arid. Push! She cried out and someone told her not to. Direct the pain, make it work for you.

Her belly seized, a swollen mound, glistening with sweat. Push! Without her will, her belly pushed. The baby emerged, streaked and creamy, into hands that glowed with golden light. Too bright. The hands were too bright.

Those hands took the baby from her womb into their grasp, stilling the cries and jerking limbs. Jill reached, but both baby and hands were gone. She woke, gasping, and stared around her in the darkness as though she might find them there. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her racing heart. She'd dreamed of Kelsey's birth before, but never like that.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes and settled back down, the image of those glowing hands still in her mind.

Kelsey lay in the bed at the Yale New Haven Treatment Center, her second night in that medical center. Dad had gone to grab them some cafeteria food and Mom to call Jill. Mom didn't seem to mind talking to Jill. She was part of it all. She'd made it happen. No one else would have known to find Morgan. Morgan.

Kelsey touched the Hickman catheter in her chest, used to administer the chemotherapy that had achieved her remission and would receive the new doses to wipe out her immune system. After radiation and the killing drugs, it would be the channel to receive the bone marrow from her father, her biological father. Why did she keep thinking about him? What was he like; how did he look? Wasn't it normal to wonder?

She had to be careful, though. Mom and Dad were touchy about it. Didn't they know her wondering didn't change her love for them. She just wanted to understand. Had he cared about Jill? About her?. Did he do this transplant out of guilt, or did he really want to help?.

Why would he want to see her? She was ugly, bald, pale, and bruised. Who would want to see her? Who would ever look at her and think she was anything but a cancer patient? Certainly no boy. No man would want to marry her someday. But her bio-dad? Would he look away, embarrassed by her?

Jill hadn't, but that was different. Jill was ... a mom. No, that presupposed that dads were less accepting, and she knew that wasn't true. Kelsey shook her head. She wasn't sure why she doubted Morgan. Maybe because he hadn't married Jill, hadn't taken care of her when she needed it. Jill said it was her parents' fault, but Kelsey wasn't sure she believed that. Anyway, she couldn't risk it. Jill worked with kids who had problems. She was used to it. Morgan wouldn't be. No, the one-year rule of no contact was a good idea. At this point he might take one look and decide to keep his marrow to himself.

If she was still alive in a year, maybe then. When she had hair. Waves of nausea rose inside from the first treatment she'd had that day. And it would only get worse. Was it even worth it? She closed her eyes and pictured her army of dispirited angels looking to her for their strength.

"I don't have any," she said to the darkness, then realized others were fighting for her, as well. The nurse who'd been so funny earlier, the oncologist and all the staff. Even her bio-dad, who was scheduled for the marrow harvest. She couldn't give up now. Everyone expected her to fight, to stay positive, to be hopeful, the giver of hope on her Web page, the sharer of Jesus' love. But it was so hard.

She thought for a minute, then turned on the tiny reading lamp beside her bed and opened her laptop. Instead of going to the Web page, she opened e-mail. She had some new messages from her friends, but she clicked "Write" instead. Maybe she shouldn't do this, but there was one person who had promised to be honest. Maybe she could be honest back, too.

Hi, Jill. I hope you don't mind that I got your e-mail address off the card you gave Mom. It's late here; I guess it is there, too. Maybe you won't get this until tomorrow, but I wanted to talk, to tell you ... Kelsey paused. No, this was her chance to say what she couldn't say out loud, couldn't tell Mom and Dad, who loved her too much. I wanted to tell you I'm scared. I know you'll understand, cuz you must have been, too. When you had me. Did it hurt very much? Who was with you? Did you get to see me? She hadn't intended to ask about that, but it took her mind off the rest. What was it like when I was inside you? Did you hate me very much? Were you sad I was there?

She almost erased that part, but no. This was her place to be honest, to write whatever she wanted. If Jill didn't answer, she'd understand. It still helped to write it, just to get the thoughts out. I'm really sick right now. All I think about is throwing up. Were you sick with me? Then you know how I feel. Not like I have the flu and will get better in the morning. It goes on and on. I try not to show it because Mom and Dad get so sad. It hurts them when I hurt. They feel it, too. I was hoping I could just tell you about it sometimes.

I have this army inside me, fighting to make me well. But when I feel like this, it's hard to believe that will ever happen. My roommate is scared because her cancer went into her brain. I don't think I could stand that. I feel selfish for dreading the cells in my spinal cord. But soon they'll be wiped out, and then Morgan's marrow will start making me well. I wish you could tell me more about him. I keep wondering. Especially now since I might never turn eighteen. That's when Mom said I could make a decision on finding him or not. I think I might die without seeing him.

Again Kelsey paused. I shouldn't say that, I guess. It discourages the angels inside. I should explain that. I imagine the chemo and radiation and my own good cells are an angel army fighting the bad demon leukemia cells. When I get discouraged, my army falls back, the others start to win. Prayer helps. When I ask Jesus, He sends new troops. I should ask Jesus now because I really, really feel sick. Thanks for listening. Bye now. Kelsey She closed her eyes and prayed, Jesus, help me, then gathered her will and told the angel host to go kick butt, a phrase Mom would not approve of but which seemed somehow completely appropriate. And she went on to imagine them doing just that-bright, glowing feet booting the black demon host right out of her body.

Morgan walked up to the cabin door and knocked. The sky spread out above him in blazing color, a gaudy display that would fade soon, and then show off again in starlit splendor, but he'd made his decision and meant to act on it. His stomach was full of Marta's great meal, and he really could drive through the night better than he'd be able to sleep, now that his mind was made up.

Stan opened the door but didn't speak.

"I need to apologize, Stan. I put you in a bad spot."

The corners of Stan's mouth rose slightly. "I'm sure that wasn't your intention."

"Doesn't clear it up for you, though."

He shrugged. "I'll pray for wisdom."

Meanwhile Todd might blow the place up. "May I talk to Todd a moment? Is he up?"

Stan turned. "Todd, Morgan wants you."

Todd came from the back bedroom with a T-shirt in his hand and wearing sweats hung low enough to show half his boxers. "Yeah?" He looked sullen and angry.

"Can we talk a minute?"

Todd glared at Stan, but the other man didn't leave. Probably wise.

Morgan rested a shoulder on the doorjamb. He didn't really care if Stan was included. "Two things. I didn't use good judgment in making you that offer. Learning to read better would be a good choice, but that's between you and Stan. I'll leave the TV at the big house. He can determine if you should watch it sometimes."

Todd's eyes blazed. "You can't just take it away."

Morgan smiled. "Then make your case with Stan. But do it right."

The slow boil that followed was probably worse than the kid's usual kicking and swearing.

"The second thing is, I wanted to say good-bye."

"You're leaving? Now?" Todd glanced out at the moonlit yard.

Morgan nodded.

"You just got here."

"There's something I have to do."

"What?" Todd shot the word like a missile. What could Morgan possibly have to do that was more important than hanging out with him?

"My daughter's sick. I want to see her before she has a serious procedure."

Todd gaped with no subtlety whatever. "You've got a kid?"

Stan looked surprised, as well. So Rick had kept that confidence. Now was not the time to go into it.

"Good-bye, Todd."

Todd turned without a word, stalked back into the bedroom, and closed the door.

Stan ran a hand over his hair. "That's the looks of it, these days." At least he didn't ask about Kelsey, no doubt reading the subject closed body language.

Morgan held out his hand. "Good luck, Stan."

Stan shook it. "Are you coming back?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, it's been nice getting to know you. And thanks for everything. He might not show it, but it mattered to Todd, the time you spent and all." Stan scratched the back of his neck. "I'll pray for your daughter."

Morgan turned from the door. "Thanks." He went out and crossed the yard to his Thunderbird. He'd already told Rick, Noelle, and Marta good-bye, and there was nothing now to do but to climb into the Thunderbird and go. He opened the door and caught a motion from the corner of his eye.

Todd tore across the yard and rammed both hands against the car door, slamming it hard. Then he kicked it again and again until Morgan snatched him up and pulled him away. Todd turned his fists on him, shouting every vulgarity. Morgan caught his arms and pinned them at his sides, then pulled the boy tightly into his arms.

"I hate you! I hate you!"

Morgan held him. Another string of profanity. Morgan kept his arms around him. Todd pressed his fists into Morgan's abdomen and started to cry. He let the boy cry. So much anger and hurt had to come out some way. After a while, Todd swiped his arm under his nose, bunched his shirt, and rubbed it against his face.

Morgan held his shoulder. "You all right?"

Todd pulled away. "Yeah."

Morgan reached into his pocket, handed Todd his card. He had intended to give it to him at the cabin, if Todd hadn't walked away before he could. "This has my cell phone and e-mail."

Todd looked at the card.

"If you want to talk, you've got your choices."

Todd looked up at him.

Morgan smiled. "You're a good kid, Todd. Give Stan a chance."

Todd stood there as Morgan climbed into the Thunderbird and started the engine. He raised a hand, and Todd did also, holding on to the card. Morgan smiled. "Be good."

"You too."

Morgan laughed. "Okay." He backed out and drove down the gravel drive, settling in for the long haul. He cranked his tunes and tipped his head back. Another beautiful night in the Rocky Mountains, but he'd be leaving all that behind.

Jill climbed out of the shower and toweled dry. She had run earlier than usual, troubled by Cinda's phone call. Yes, the promise was over-whelming to have Morgan match, to be going forward with the only lifesaving option for Kelsey. But Cinda's other comment hung heavily this morning. "I couldn't bear to refuse Kelsey a treatment simply because we couldn't pay."

Through all this Jill had never thought of the expense. How could money be attached to life and death? Last night she'd felt peace, believing in the Lord's goodness. Yes, as Cinda said, He would provide, just as He had allowed Morgan to match, at least closely enough to go forward.

But the Lord helped those who helped themselves, and her thoughts now were on funds. What could she do to help? It must be bad if Cinda mentioned it to her. Jill went into the bedroom and dressed in blue shorts and a yellow shirt. She shook her hair, spritzed it with a light mousse, and now could let it air dry.

The sun had just risen and cast the room in pearly tones. She sat down at her desk and booted up her old computer. One of these days she'd update, but for now it worked for searching the Web and keeping her prayer journal. She started to open that document but saw she had mail and went there first.

A message from Kelsey. Jill opened it at once and read with surprise, heartache, and joy. Kelsey trusted her with her fears. She had turned to her with the thoughts she could share nowhere else. Though it broke her heart to read it, Jill exulted. There still was something she could do for her little girl. Hi, Kelsey. I'm so glad you wrote. She went on to answer her daughter's questions. Yes, she had been sick and afraid but never hated the baby inside her. There were times I wished it hadn't happened. I'm sure you know how that is. But when I held you the first time-the only time-I was so glad you were in the world, even though I wouldn't get to know you. You were special even then.

She told her about Morgan's playing football and running track, how he beat her in a sprint, but she could outrun him in a long race. She told her how smart he'd been without trying, but how it annoyed him that she'd been accelerated a full year and could still keep up academically. She had teased him with that. Then she thanked Kelsey for being honest about her fears and illness. You can tell me anything, Kelsey, and don't worry how it sounds. I'll understand. I'm praying right now for lots and lots of angels to fight your battle. Hang in there. Jill She went into her prayer journal and thanked God for the opportunity she'd just had. She asked Him to keep that channel open as long as Kelsey needed it. She prayed for strength and courage for her daughter, and for the family's finances. She read her devotional section for the day and journaled about it. Then she closed down the computer and was just standing up when the doorbell rang.

She glanced at the clock. 7:05? It had to be Dan, though they hadn't spoken since her invitation for him to leave.

Rascal rushed past her, whisking his tail against her legs like a feather duster. He always pretended to race her to the door, but when he came to it, he shrank back as though the great outdoors might reach in and swallow him up. She nudged him aside and peered into the peephole, then caught herself against the door. Now she knew how it felt. Her lungs squeezed and her hand trembled as she opened the door.

"Morgan ..."

He shot her a smug smile. "Surprise."

She'd had a reason to spring herself on him. Why would he possibly be reversing the shock? "What are you ..."

"The cross-match was negative."

"I know."

"We're doing the transplant."

She nodded. "Cinda told me. I'm so glad, Morgan." But didn't he have to be somewhere else to do it?

He raked her with his gaze, his eyes cobalt shards, hard and dangerous. A flush burned up her neck. She glanced at his white Thunderbird glinting in the parking space across from her door. If that didn't draw her nosy neighbor's attention she couldn't guess what would"Morgan, what do you-"

"Want?" He caught her waist and drew her onto the stoop. "What do you think?"

She had to tip her head to look at him. What was he doing? Why was he there?

He caught her shoulders and pressed her against the doorjamb, staring at her lips until she started to shake. Then he met her eyes and said, "I want to see my daughter."

Her breath escaped in a rush. "You can't. They've transferred her to Yale, preparing for the transplant."