He looked at Kelsey, and she wondered if she should not have insisted on receiving all the medical updates with her parents. "I wish I had better news for you, Kelsey. It's a balancing act. One thing that helps here ..." He held up his left hand. "Hurts here." He raised his right. "We can attack, but that opens new battles."

She nodded. "So there's nothing you can do?"

He shook his head. "I'm not saying that. We will try everything available to us. I just want all of you to understand what we're up against." He turned to her parents, who were holding each other at the side of the room. "I don't recommend raising the drug levels because the pressure on her lungs and heart is already extreme and dialysis can only do so much for the kidneys. But that means in addition to the veno-occlusive disease, the GVHD will probably increase. There may be permanent damage to the liver especially, and the stomach and other soft tissues." Back to Kelsey. "It could burn out within days or continue to escalate."

"Burn out" is exactly how it felt, her skin peeling off, her mouth cracked and bleeding, her belly swollen to twice its size. She drew a slow thick breath. No one had been allowed in except the medical staff and her parents. Her energy was so low she hardly responded to them.

"The best news we have is lack of infection. You're handling that like a pro, Kelsey." He smiled.

She tried to smile back but only shut her eyes. When he left the room, arms closed around her. Not Mom's and Dad's-they knew it hurt too much. But arms so soft and strong and embracing they could only be her Lord's. It's too much, Jesus. I can't do it anymore. I can't make it good.

No smile on His face this time but tears in His eyes. The shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus wept. She didn't want Him to cry for her. It's okay. I'll try. If you help me.

Jill turned off the computer. No message from Kelsey. Nothing since the brief request for a photograph, which Jill had sent immediately. She tried not to read more into it than the fact Kelsey probably didn't feel well and had her Web page to keep up with and her family and friends. Maybe she no longer needed to gripe. Maybe it was all going so well she could only rejoice. And that part she did easily enough with Cinda. The thought encouraged Jill enough to face her day.

Normally the preliminary meetings for the upcoming school year had her focused and energized. This year the tension and uncertainty almost spoiled the anticipation of working once again with her kids. Or maybe her reality had expanded, her focus no longer limited to that small part of her life. Her past had converged with her present, and her future was no longer the day-to-day existence she'd managed before.

As long as she focused on Kelsey healing and Morgan recovering and her own- The phone rang, and she crossed to answer it. "Hello?"

"Jill, this is Cinda."

Her heart accelerated. "Cinda. Are you home? How is Kelsey?"

The pause seized Jill's belly and twisted. Cinda's voice sounded flat. "No, we're not home, Jill. Kelsey's not doing well."

Jill gripped the counter for support. "Did she reject the marrow?"

"No. Her immune system can't reject anything. It's the opposite. GVHD."

GVHD. Jill had read about it, graft-versus-host disease, Morgan's marrow identifying Kelsey's body as foreign and attacking. "They expected that, didn't they? It was part of it, I thought. An anti-tumor effect and ..."

"It's life threatening, Jill. They're not sure they can control it. And there are other complications. Liver and kidney failure. She's very weak. But she wanted me to call and ask for your prayers."

No. Jill slid down the kitchen wall. It wasn't possible. Morgan's marrow was supposed to heal her. "Can you give me details so I can address them in prayer?" How could she sound so calm?

"She has acute stomach and intestinal distress, her skin is blistered and sloughing off, extra fluid all over. Also her vision is impaired, and the drugs cause confusion. But the worst is the damage to her vital organs. Her stomach is hemorrhaging. Pray-" Cinda's voice broke. "Pray for a miracle."

Jill sat stunned, unable to fathom so many things wrong with her daughter. She'd imagined, pictured her healing, growing strong, getting well. She pressed a palm to her heart where the ache grew. "Thank you for calling, Cinda. Would it be too much trouble to continue to let me know how she's doing?"

"I'll try."

Jill hung up the phone and gave in to sobs. Everything else paled. It couldn't be happening, but Cinda's voice left no doubt. Lord, why? She loves you so. How could you do this? She didn't care that she was questioning God again. Where was the reason in it? If Kelsey's faith counted for nothing, then Shelly was right.

With trembling fingers, she touched the numbers on the phone, got his voice mail. "Morgan, this is Jill. Please call me."

Then she cried until her stomach hurt, her eyes ached, and her throat burned. But none of it was close to what Kelsey suffered. Kelsey wanted prayer, but how could she? Her spirit was a sieve and faith drained through it like water. God, forgive me. She had to pray, whether she believed or not.

"Jesus, Kelsey loves you. She trusts you. She knows you. You worked miracles before. You can do it now. Please ... please ..."

She didn't care that the meetings had started at school. She stayed on her knees and begged. She had given up her daughter once; she was not ready to do it again. You can't have her yet. She has too much life to live. "How can you want her now after what I went through to bring her into the world?" It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But God was sovereign.

No. She shook her head. She would not accept this. She would batter His door until He heard and answered. She might be helpless, but she would not give up.

Morgan picked up the phone and dialed Jill. The sound of her voice on the message sent ice through his veins. "Jill, it's Morgan."

She said nothing, just broke down and sobbed.

Worse than he'd expected. Something horrible had happened. Kelsey?

He tried to speak, couldn't, then tried again. "Jill, what's wrong?"

"She's so sick, Morgan. So many things wrong. Acute GVHD. I've prayed and prayed but ..."

GVHD. His marrow attacking Kelsey's system. They had counseled him extensively on not taking the blame for the all-but-inevitable occurrence. Especially with a mismatched transplant. The question was not whether it would occur but how bad it would be.

Jill sniffed. "Cinda called this morning and said liver and kidney failure, soft tissue damage, her skin is peeling off. Kelsey wants our prayers. But, Morgan, I can't believe. I'm so angry and I feel so betrayed. How could God do this?"

The cold spread to his spine. He knew only too well. It was his marrow they'd had the audacity to use. He pressed a hand to his face, thankful only that he'd seen Todd to the airport that morning, which was where he had been when Jill called. "Are you home?"

"Yes."

"Is anyone with you?"

She hesitated, then, "I can't face anyone. If I tell Shelly what I really feel, she'll know what a lie my faith has been."

Morgan swallowed. "This isn't your fault, Jill."

"I want to scream and kick and break something."

"Go ahead."

Instead she started to cry again. Did she have any idea how helpless that made him? "Hang in there." He hung up. With luck he could find a seat on something heading east. Luck and lots of money.

By the time he arrived at her door, he was not sure she was home. Maybe she had gone to Shelly after all, or to Dan. But then the door opened. Her face was dry but bore the streaks and swelling of too many tears shed during the hours since they'd talked. She stared up with a look of astonishment and dismay, then burst once again into tears.

Remembering her neighbor, he stepped inside before pulling her to his chest, then held her. At least this time there wasn't half the country between them. Jill was not a crier, but he supposed too many years of held-back tears left her raw now. He pressed his face to her head and cupped the back of her neck.

After a while she wiped her tears. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."

"How quickly can you pack?"

"What do you mean?" She looked up.

"We're going to Connecticut."

She searched his face, incredulous. "Morgan, we can't just show up. They won't let us in."

"Just get your things."

She shook her head. "They didn't ask us to come. Cinda and Roger have enough to deal with, without us trying to force-"

"We're not forcing anything."

She caught his forearm. "I know you, Morgan. You won't stop until you accomplish what you went for."

He gave her a careless smile. "I'm very diplomatic."

"But-"

"She's our daughter, too. If she's in a fight for her life, I want to be there." Needed to be. He cupped her face. "And I know you do, too."

She pressed her hands to his chest. "I don't know if I can." Pain passed over her features. "Maybe God was right, that I could never have handled what was ahead for Kelsey. What if He gave her to Cinda and Roger to ..." She shook her head. "To undo it?"

Undo it? He tipped her face up and studied it. He'd never seen her so fatalistic and hopeless. That was his role, wasn't it?

She sagged under his hold. "What if we did it to her?"

He gripped her shoulders. "Did what?" His voice was raw.

"Caused her illness, made it happen."

The same thing had haunted him since Jill came to him with the news, but had he faced it, voiced it, given it substance? "Genetic predisposition?"

She looked up. "Or spiritual."

Way too close to the mark.

"What if we set it all in motion? Like David and Bathsheba. They sinned, but did God strike them?" The tendons in her neck were ropes. "Their baby died, Morgan. And Pharaoh's son, and all the firstborn." Her chest rose and fell with hard breaths. "Not by any fault of theirs but by the sins of their parents."

He shook his head, anger brewing. That was taking it too far. God could do as He liked with him, but to make Kelsey pay? "She's not going to die. I won't let that happen."

Jill expelled her breath. "Do you think you can change what God has determined? I've spent today begging for her life. You don't even talk to God."

"I intend to do more than talk."

"What, then?"

He caught her face. "Whatever it takes." Maybe he was crazy, but he was not going to sit back and do nothing. "Don't give up."

Fresh tears washed into her eyes. "It's just that ... it's like it was before. I wanted her so much. I prayed and prayed, but I was powerless. I had to give her up." Jill started to shake. "But I didn't let them take her. I couldn't bear that. I gave her myself."

Morgan lowered his hands from her face to her shoulders. He didn't want to imagine Jill giving their child away. But for the first time he realized how terrible it must have been. That wound was paralyzing her now, trapping her into a fatalistic surrender.

But he would not go there. He had not believed Kelsey dead for fifteen years to lose her now, before he ever laid eyes on her. "Don't let go of her this time, Jill."

She swallowed but made no reply.

"Come with me."

She closed her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

Once again he drew her into his arms. It would be better by far if Jill came along. She had some relationship, at least, and direct communication with both Cinda and Kelsey. More than that, he wanted her with him. He kissed the top of her head.

She pressed into him and sniffed. "I didn't expect you to come here. I just had to tell you."

He stroked her back between the shoulder blades. "You did the right thing." What if she had called when it was too late? He threw that thought aside. There had to be something more he could do, something to make up for what his marrow was doing to Kelsey's body, some way to stem the tide, reverse the course of nature ... resist God's will? Yes, if that was what it took.

"Pack your bag, Jill. Come with me."

She stared up into his face. "Okay. But I need Shelly to keep Rascal and ..." She shook her head. "I can't think."

"Need to cover yourself at work?"

She half laughed. "I missed the planning meetings today. I never even called."

"Give me a number."

"Umm ... You could talk to Ed Fogarty, the principal." She drew away, then said the number.

He took up the phone and punched it in. A school secretary answered. "Ed Fogarty please." Then, "Mr. Fogarty, this is Morgan Spencer."

"Morgan Spencer of Fortune magazine?" The man said it jokingly.

"Actually, yes." He gave him a moment to let that sink in. "But I'm calling on a personal matter. For Jill Runyan."

"Is this some kind of joke? Because I've had all I can take from Ji-"

"It's no joke at all, Mr. Fogarty. Jill's daughter, my daughter, has leukemia and we're flying out immediately to do whatever we can to help her stay alive."

There was silence on the other end, then, "What year did you graduate from Beauview High?"

"Class of '88. You can check the article, and you've probably already deposited my check from the fund-raiser this past June."

An even longer silence. "You said Jill Runyan's daughter? Saint Jill?"

Morgan wished for ten minutes alone with the man. "I also said my daughter. I'm requesting a leave of absence for Jill. She's been devoted to that school more years than you've been in Beauview."

"How long a leave?"

"However long it takes. I understand you're well staffed."

"The truth is, I don't really need Ms. Runyan."

Morgan steamed. This little power trip of a man was the sort he'd love to take down. "That will be Jill's decision."

"Have her see me when she's back. I'll try to work her in."

"She'll have my lawyer's number with her."