Sheila held her hand out. “Forgive me, Angela . . . please.”
Angela felt herself break, felt Sheila’s words finally connect in her heart. Her tears fell hot and quick onto her cheeks as she held her hands out to her lost friend. “Sheila . . . of course. It wasn’t just you. We were all . . . all of us were at fault.” She embraced Sheila, overcome. There was no going back, no way to regain the years they’d lost, no way to undo the damage they’d done to their kids. But here now, forgiveness was happening, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
She drew back and made a sad sound. “Why were we so stubborn?”
“I don’t know.” Sheila sniffed and smiled through her tears. A smile that showed how deeply she meant the apology, how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them.
Angela’s heart soared as the moment played out. The four of them had made a plan that separated their friendship, yes. But it had done more than that. Their actions had cost Lauren and Shane every hope of a future, of being a family with Emily. The cost was too high to measure.
Samuel worked his way toward Bill’s bed. With both hands he clasped his outstretched fingers. “It’s been too long, Bill.”
“Yes.” Bill kept his hands locked with Samuel’s for a long time. Long enough to erase the differences that had brought them to this point. Bill’s chin quivered as he looked up. “All that matters is you’re here now. And that you understand something.”
“What?” Samuel’s voice was thick with feeling.
“We’re every bit as sorry as you. What we did . . . ” he looked the other direction at Lauren and Shane and Emily. Then he turned back to Samuel. “What we did to those kids was wrong.”
“It was.” Samuel looked at Lauren. “Forgive me. We . . . we didn’t know what we were doing.”
Angela studied Lauren, saw the doubt in her eyes and the small hesitancy in her expression. Apologies were well and good, but the things done to Lauren and Shane had changed their lives. Forgiveness would take time.
Lauren gave Samuel a stiff nod. “I know.” She gave Emily a slight hug and reached out to rest her hand on Shane’s shoulder. “We all would do things differently if we had another chance.”
Lauren couldn’t believe her eyes. She was still processing the scene playing out in the hospital room, and now Shane’s father had apologized. Next to her, Emily leaned closer. “Another miracle,” she whispered. “I prayed for this too.”
But Lauren wasn’t sure. How was it a miracle that the people who had separated her and Shane were here now? This was a private moment, her last few hours with her dad. She wanted to tell the Galanters to leave and come back in a year or so. When she’d had time to process everything that was happening.
All around her the apologies continued, and after a few minutes the two older couples found their way again, the way long lost friends do. Even when their differences had cost them half a lifetime, even when Lauren wasn’t sure she liked the idea.
Throughout the day she and Emily and Shane stayed close, walking down to the cafeteria together at lunch time and giving the friends time to catch up. For two days they stayed almost constantly around her father’s bed, the sweet, tender moments with him marred only by the occasional update from the doctors that there was nothing they could do. He didn’t have long. There was talk about him going home, but the decision was made that it would be too painful to move him.
He was comfortable in the hospital, the pain medication flowing through his IV at just the right rate to allow him conversations with her and Shane and Emily, with the Galanters, and especially with her mother. Once, sometime Monday afternoon, Lauren and Shane spent an hour in the cafeteria alone. Their conversations had been so consumed with her father that they hadn’t talked much about each other.
“So . . . ” Shane sat across from her and covered her hands with his.
She knew what he meant, the way she’d always known. Their flights were scheduled to leave later that week, and they still hadn’t found any answers. None that made sense, anyway. Her eyes held his. “Us, you mean?”
He wrapped his fingers around her hands. “I heard what your dad told you yesterday morning.”
“I wondered.” Her heart ached just looking at him. His eyes held a depth that took her breath away. He was conservative, a military guy with a fierce support for the war, but he didn’t seem like any warmonger she’d ever written about. And how was that? Navy captains weren’t supposed to have feelings like this, were they? Still, what was she supposed to say? That she’d move to Reno, Nevada, of all places? Settle down some where outside Fallon Naval Base and get excited about the fact that he was training the next generation of fighter pilots? She looked down at the place where their fingers came together. Maybe if she said nothing, they could sit like this forever, holding hands and pretending things were exactly the way they’d been when they were kids.
He tried again. “Can I go on record saying I agree with him?” His voice was light, but his eyes gave him away.
She didn’t know what to say, so she fell back on her most familiar ally: teasing. “About what? About heaven?”
“Okay.” He gave a thoughtful nod. “That too.” His gaze held hers and wouldn’t let go. “But mostly that love doesn’t mean seeing eye to eye on everything.”
She tilted her head, willing him to comprehend what they were up against. “Shane, I’m a senior reporter at one of the top magazines in the country, and I’m in that position because of my stories on the war in the Middle East.” Sadness crept between every word. Sadness and longing and resignation. “There isn’t a reader in the nation who doesn’t know where I stand.” She lowered her chin and kept her tone light. “And then there’s you, over on the other side of the table.”
“Navy captain, supporter of the Republican Party, fan of the president.” His eyes melted into hers. He brushed his thumb along the top of her hand.
The move kicked out the foundation of her resolve. “Right.”
“So . . . ” The people at other tables in the dining room seemed to fade from view, the conversation too deep for any distractions. “We’d have interesting dinner conversations, right?” He gave her the boyish grin that had haunted her dreams for a decade after he left. “Is that so bad?”
“Shane.” She felt herself melting. “Really, I mean, think about it. What do we do? Get married and live at the Top Gun facility? So I can write articles condemning the war straight from command central?”
He shrugged. “You’d get quicker feedback.”
“Anyway.” She couldn’t resist him another minute. Her salad was gone, so she pushed her tray back and slipped around the table to his side. “How was your lunch?”
“You changing subjects?” He crooked his finger beneath her chin and eased closer to her.
“You’re quick, Shane.” She breathed the words against his chin, moving her lips closer to his. “I always liked that about you.”
“Really.” His mouth found hers, and he slid his fingers up along her cheek bone. The kiss didn’t last long, but it made her dizzy all the same. He drew back. “I thought you liked this.” He kissed her again, his eyes full of light and love and humor. The way she remembered them being. “Besides, we wouldn’t be the first couple separated by our politics. You’ve got Schwarzenegger and Shriver . . . Mary Matalin and James Carville.”
“I know.” She exhaled hard. He wasn’t making this easy. If she sat here much longer he might even start making sense. A slight thrill swirled in her heart at the thought, but she looked past it. “Those couples didn’t live in different countries, though.”
He looked like he wanted to volley back, but he didn’t. Instead he brought his lips together and looked deeper into her heart, to the long ago places where memories of him once ruled. “There’s always a way, Lauren.”
Thoughts of her father drifted through her mind, followed by the fact that in a week or so this time together with Shane would probably be nothing more th
an a wonderful coda on a lifetime of wondering. Even though they hadn’t solved anything, she was grateful to him, glad that he’d kept the discussion silly and lighthearted, and even hopeful. Now, when time was so desperately short, that’s what they needed most.
On their way back up to her father’s room, Shane eased her into a doorway. “Hi.” The word was a breathy whisper as he brushed his face against hers. He kissed her once more and when he pulled away he said, “Just working on military public relations.”
She had a serious answer, something about sensibilities and their obvious differences. But it wouldn’t come to the surface. Without the words, she returned his kiss, breathless with the way he made her feel. When she took a breath she could do nothing but grin at him. “You know what?”
He brought his lips to hers once more and then found her eyes, his voice full of desire. “What?”
“You’re good at it.”
Her daddy was going downhill fast.
By the next day he was too weak to do anything more than look at them through tired eyes. Close friends from her parents’ church came by the hospital twice that morning to circle his bed, hold hands, and pray. The first few times Lauren didn’t join in.
“I’ll wait in the hall.” She gave a polite smile, using the moment to visit the restroom or grab a water from the vending machine. But as she left that first time, the pastor’s voice stopped her. She hesitated, standing in the hall, listening . . . amazed. She’d prayed that way once, hadn’t she? Back when she and Shane were so sorry for sleeping together?
In the course of the day, a dozen different prayers came back to her. She’d begged God to let Emily live and she’d begged him to help her find Shane. It was noon when it hit her. Emily was right.
God had done both. Maybe not in her timing, but then hadn’t they always been taught that God had His ways, that His ways were better than their ways, even when it didn’t feel like it? Another prayer was happening inside her father’s room, so she leaned against the wall outside and tried to remember . . .
How had it happened? How had she and God moved so far away from each other? The answer was easy. She pictured herself standing over the small hospital bed, Emily lying there gasping for breath, burning up. The doctor told her Emily had almost no chance of living, and so God was the only answer left. Lauren had begged Him to let her live.
She remembered what it felt like hours later to have the nurse tell her Emily was gone, the shakiness in her chest, the terror streaming through her veins. Okay, yes, God had let her daughter live. But hadn’t He robbed her of the chance to see Emily grow up, to be a part of her life?
And what about Shane? God knew how badly she wanted to find him. If she’d come across him, then she would’ve felt compelled to go home again, and there she would’ve found Emily. A decade sooner or even more. Wasn’t that God’s fault too?
After starting her new life in Los Angeles, God became just one more part of her past, one more person she’d walked away from. Then, as she got into political reporting and moved her way up on the Time magazine staff, she began believing the same thing so many of her peers believed. That Christians were hypocrites.
She had only to check her e-mail to see that much. The meanest, most negative letters often came from readers who called themselves believers. But it wasn’t just that. Lauren couldn’t understand how a person with faith in Christ could also support the war. She hung her head and listened to the prayer taking place in her dad’s room. Prayer wouldn’t resolve anything. It wouldn’t save her dad. And it wouldn’t answer the questions building inside her.
Right on the heels of that thought, a voice raised, the words coming to Lauren as clearly as if she were inside the room rather than in the hallway.
“Lord, we know that all things happen for a reason, but that doesn’t mean we understand this. We pray You’ll be with our friend, Bill, and that You’ll lead him gently from this world to the next. I know You’ll be waiting for Him in that beautiful place, the place You’ve prepared for him. And so we thank You for Bill’s life, for every day he’s had with us and with his family. Please give them the . . . ”
Lauren hugged herself. It took all her strength to stand there and not go into the room, to not join that circle of people. But why? She shook her head. Guilt. Of course. What must her dad think, looking around and seeing her mom and Shane and Emily, special church friends, and even Shane’s parents.
But not her.
Dad had been so certain in their talk the day before. When she got to heaven, he’d be waiting for her, just the way he’d waited for her all these years since she’d gone away. And if he was right, if there was a heaven, then her mother would be there, and Shane and Emily. All of them, everyone she loved. But what about her?
What about me, God? She pressed her lips together. Did God strike people dead for being sarcastic? But then, why should He? He hadn’t exactly delivered answers to her prayers. The same integrity that drove her to verify sources for her work hither now like a sledgehammer.
God had delivered the answers. Just not the way I wanted. So I walked away. Something she was good at.
Drawing in a steady breath she peeked into the room. They were still praying, and with their eyes closed, heads bowed. Everyone except Shane. He must’ve heard her, and now he had one eye open and he gave a short nod for her to join him. She skirted silently around the outside of the circle, then slipped in between him and Emily.
Someone was saying, “We thank You most of all for the peace You’ve given this family. Your peace goes beyond our understanding because it happens on the inside of us, where our hearts are. Not on the outside where life can be so difficult. It’s that internal peace You’ve given them. Restoration and healing, divine redemption, all of it has come to the Andersons in recent days, and we thank You. Your peace should be the goal of every believer, and today, well, we could take a lesson from Bill and Angela and their family.”
Lauren felt her sinuses swelling again. Who were these people? They sounded so different. They certainly weren’t like the Christians she’d known. But that didn’t matter. Because something from the man’s prayer caught at her. He mentioned peace, but not the peace she spent her days thinking about — not the kind that would bring an end to the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. What had he said? God’s peace happens on the inside, where the heart is, right? Not on the outside where life was hard.
She pressed her hands more tightly into Emily’s and Shane’s. This was the peace she’d searched for all her life, wasn’t it? And though she still wasn’t sure how to find it or make it happen on the inside, suddenly, in that moment, standing there beside those she loved most in the world, it seemed possible. As she stayed in the circle of prayer she felt love and acceptance raining down on her, showering her with a feeling she hadn’t ever known before. It was a feeling that lasted even after the moment ended and the church friends left.
And it had everything to do with prayer.
The hours passed slowly, with little response from her father, and late that night he slipped into a coma. The loss was enormous. Even with Shane and Emily and her mother huddled close around her, Lauren felt like she was falling from an airplane without a chute. All these years, she’d convinced herself her parents had been wrong, that their actions had cost her a lifetime with Shane and Emily. But she’d forgotten the people they really were. The father who had run along beside her when she learned to ride a bike, the one who went running with her on weekend mornings when she was in junior high, and who once in a while stopped to pick her a bouquet of wildflowers on the way home. He loved her as sure as summer followed spring. Love had indeed driven him to do the things he’d done when she was pregnant with Emily.
A pure, misguided sort of love.
Now that she was home, the good times were clear again. Her dad was a kindhearted, gentle man whose humor and compassion was like balm to a gaping wound that had never come close to healing. This time when the four of them gathered around
to pray, Lauren did something she hadn’t done since she left home — she silently joined her voice with theirs.
“It won’t be long,” the doctor told them. “He won’t last through the night.”
The man was right.
By one o’clock in the morning, her father’s breathing slowed. Lauren watched the monitors, counting down as the numbers showing how much oxygen her father was getting fell. 80 . . . 70 . . . 55 . . . 40 . . .
Half an hour later, it was over. Her father’s breathing stopped. Lauren stared, disbelieving, at the still form on the bed, then turned to cling to Shane and Emily. She clutched them close, burying her face against them, not sure if the sobs echoing around were hers or theirs. She let them go and turned to her mother, opening her arms and folding them around her as they grieved his loss.
The Galanters were there too, holding onto each other and quietly crying.
How could this be real? How could he be gone? Mere days ago he’d been well enough to sit with them, to visit and hold hands. It had been terrifyingly fast, not at all the way Lauren had thought cancer progressed. But at the same time it was merciful, because there had been little pain, no surgery, no horrendous chemotherapy or radiation. If only she could find some comfort in that. But there was none. Because all she knew was that her daddy was gone, and she’d missed way too many years with him.
Before they left the hospital, her mother looked at each of them, tears still on her cheeks. “For weeks I’ve been praying for your father to be healed.” She folded her arms, hugging herself tightly. “I couldn’t understand why God didn’t answer me, why the cancer wasn’t taken from him. God is the Healer, and we needed His help.” She looked intently at Lauren and Shane and Emily, one at a time. “Today while we were praying, God made it clear that my prayers had been heard. Your father, your papa, was healed of something far worse than cancer.” She smiled through her tears. “When we found you, Lauren, and you, Shane . . . watching the two of you discover Emily . . . well, Bill was healed of a broken heart.”