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God, the sorrow is too great. I can’t survive it.

She sucked in three quick breaths and willed the convulsing in her chest to stop. Tears still streamed down her face, but she stared out a distant window, found a piece of the sky, and set her gaze there. Where God lived. As bad as things were, as awful as they might become, she had done the right thing. The thing God wanted of her.

She loved Landon enough to let him go, and now God would show her how to get on with life, how to figure out a way to live with her diagnosis. He would show her, because that was what he promised in Scripture—that he knew the plans he had for her, and that he would work all things out to the good. Even if she didn’t see proof of that until heaven.

Gradually her tears slowed. A part of her ached to call Landon, to tell him it was all a mistake and that yes, of course she wanted to marry him. But she ordered herself to be strong, to stand by the decision she’d made. God alone knew what lay ahead for her. Somehow he would see her through.

Ashley fell into bed sometime before ten o’clock. When she did, she was surprised that though she felt buried beneath her sorrow, devastated, and afraid of the future, her heart wasn’t broken as she’d thought it would be. Where her heart had been she felt a hollow empty hole. A cold, dark, nothingness.

And in that instant she understood why.

When he left, Landon Blake had taken more than her hopes and desires. More than the future she’d dreamed of sharing with him. He’d taken the thing that would forever be his alone.

He’d taken her heart.

L
UKE HAD HIS BACKPACK
flung over his shoulder, and he was almost out the door when the phone rang. He glanced back and considered letting the machine get it. But sometimes his boss at the cafeteria called this early to see if he wanted an extra shift. Money was tight, and since it was his day off, he took a few jogging steps back inside and grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Luke…it’s Ashley.”

“Hey.” He glanced at his watch and ordered himself to be patient. “What’s up?” Other than his mother, only Ashley made an attempt now and then to keep in touch with him. July had flown by, and she hadn’t seen him in weeks. But she wouldn’t look shocked at his appearance, wouldn’t roll her eyes at his long hair and what was now a full-grown beard, the way Brooke had.

Ashley knew what it was to be the single Baxter going against the grain.

“Luke, we need to talk.” Her tone was rock hard. “What time are you finished with classes?”

Luke blinked. “Am I in trouble?”

“No. Sorry.” Compassion leaked in between her words. She exhaled hard. “We just need to talk.”

“One o’clock.” Luke’s mind raced. Was something else wrong with Maddie? Ashley had given him the good news about her a few weeks earlier. But if it wasn’t their niece, then who? What? In all the time since he’d left home, Ashley hadn’t sounded so serious. “Wanna come here?”

“No.” Her answer was quick, certain. “Remember that big willow tree near the math building? Let’s meet at the bench beneath it.”

“Okay.” A handful of questions played on his tongue, but Luke swallowed them. It was probably something about his father. Maybe Ashley had decided to play peacemaker, in which case the meeting would be a waste of time. Unless his father accepted him the way he was, Luke wanted nothing to do with him. “I gotta run.”

“Ten after one at the tree?”

“Right. See ya.” Luke hung up, shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder, and jogged out the door. His first class was in eight minutes.

The morning passed in a blur of reviews for final exams, slated for the end of the week. By that weekend, summer classes would be over, and he’d have a month off until fall.

It was a few minutes after one when he jogged across the campus and turned left toward the math building. Ashley was already waiting for him at the bench beneath the willow, just as she’d said. She turned when she heard him, and their eyes met.

He walked the last few steps and was still breathing hard by the time he got to her. She looked as beautiful as ever, but her eyes were older. As though there were things about her life she hadn’t shared with him. The possibility poked pins at his conscience. Why did he keep such distance—especially from her?

She stood and held out her arms, and he hugged her for a long time. When they pulled apart, he took in the length of her and gave her a partial smile. “You look good, Ash.”

“Check out your hair.” She ran her fingers along the base of his neck. Then she tickled his beard. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He shrugged. “I needed something different.”

“That happens.” She sat back down and patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

He eased his backpack onto the ground and dropped to the bench. “This is about Dad, right?”

She stared at him, her eyes serious and sad. Sadder than he’d ever seen them. “No.” Her expression softened some. “I mean, yes, Dad’s missing you. But that’s not why I’m here.”

He cocked his head. “This isn’t about asking me to come home?”

Ashley shook her head. “No, Luke. It’s so much more than that.” Her gaze was as intense as the summer sun. “What I’m about to tell you, I promised Reagan I would never say. But—” Her voice caught, and for a moment she brought her fingers to her lips.

“Hey!” Luke put his hand on her shoulder and leaned a bit closer. “Ash, what is it? What’s Reagan have to do with it?”

“Life is funny, Luke.” She sniffed. “You think you have things all figured out, and then life throws you a curveball. Know what I mean?”

Luke could see himself in Mr. Decker’s office high in the World Trade Center, Reagan standing beside him as they laughed about some play they were going to see that night. He blinked. “Yeah, I do.”

She inhaled slowly through her nose. “I’m sick, Luke.” She gave a brief shake of her head. “I tested positive for HIV.”

For a split instant he wanted to yell at her, shake her, and tell her never to say anything like that again. But almost as quickly the facts began to register. First, she wasn’t laughing. And second…

He felt faint, sick to his stomach, but he found his voice. “Was it…was it Paris?”

“Yes.” She hung her head and her chin trembled. When she looked up, tears filled her eyes and there was a pleading in her voice. “No one knows yet. Just you and…and Landon.”

“But, Ashley—” his heartbeat doubled—“it’s been such a long time. Are…you sure?”

“I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but the blood test was positive.” She bit her lip. “Anyway, that’s not why I came.”

He tried to remember what she’d said the last time they’d talked. Something about going to New York and taking some of her paintings to a gallery in Manhattan. She hadn’t mentioned spending time with Landon, but that figured. He lived there, after all, and the two of them were friends. Good friends. Reagan lived in New York City, too. No wonder Ashley was thinking about his old girlfriend.

Luke gritted his teeth. He’d missed a lot since moving out. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in his sister’s life. Now she had HIV, and anything could happen. She could get AIDS and be dead in a year or two.

The thought made his head pound.

Until now his choices this past year had made him feel free in a proactive sort of way. If life couldn’t be explained with faith and a belief in God, then at least he was doing something to figure out a different explanation, a different philosophy. A different religion. Wasn’t that the point of the clubs and meetings, the Freethinkers Alliance? But here, now, in light of Ashley’s admission, the past year felt anything but freeing.

It felt ugly and selfish and ignorant.

Whatever she wanted to tell him about Reagan, the news was nothing to what she’d just said. She had HIV?! She was his favorite sister. She couldn’t be sick. He closed his eyes and let his head drop into his hands. An image flashed across the expanse of his heart. He and Ashley, maybe five and nine years old. She stood behind him, helping him hold a basketball the right way.

“Like this, Lukey.” She’d given his right elbow a gentle nudge so it came in toward his body some. “Now bend your knees and push the ball up.”

He did as she told him. The ball made a perfect arc up toward the basket and swished neatly through the net. “I did it!” He could see the little boy he was back then. Fist raised in the air, he flew into Ashley’s arms, and the two of them jumped up and down together.

He blinked and stared at his lap as the memory lifted. She’d always loved him more than any of the others, but after Paris he’d treated her like…like he hated her. How many years had they lost because of his narrow-minded Christian views? And how many years would they have left if she got sick now?

“Ashley, I’m so sorry.” He looked at her, and with his free hand he reached for her fingers. “You need to tell Dad. He…he can help you. They can do a lot more these days.”

“I know.” She was quiet for a moment, and the muscles in her jaw tensed. “Listen, that’s not why I came. The HIV convinced me I had to tell you the truth.” Her eyes searched his again. “Luke, I saw Reagan.”

He was still reeling from the news about her health. Now what? Another attempt at getting him to call Reagan? Most of the Baxter family seemed to believe if he’d only get ahold of Reagan, he’d be the person he’d been before.

“You…saw her?” A burst of adrenaline shot through his veins, and his fingers trembled. He didn’t have time to question his reaction, why he was feeling this way when he’d convinced himself he no longer cared about Reagan, no longer loved her. “When? What did she…did she call you?”

“She and Landon are friends now.” Ashley ran her tongue along her lower lip and gripped her knees. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

Luke held his breath. So she’d seen Reagan. Was that enough to cause her this kind of anxiety? He rested his arm on the back of the bench. “What aren’t you saying?”

She planted her elbows just above her knees and covered her face with her fingers. “Luke—” slowly she dropped her hands and stared at him—“she has a baby.”

Everything around him seemed suddenly frozen. Sound…movement…time. All of it stopped so he could concentrate on the single word screaming at him, echoing through his heart and soul.

Baby?

He remembered to breathe, but he could feel the blood leave his face, sense his skin becoming cold, clammy. “Ashley…” His voice sounded strange, as if someone else were talking for him. “What do you mean?”

“I
mean…”
She straightened and turned so she was facing him. Her brow lowered, and her struggle was written across her face. “She has a
baby.”

He stared at his sister, searching her eyes for any sign of teasing or trickery. But her expression shouted the fact loud and clear. It was true. He stood and took four long strides away from the bench. With his back to Ashley, he grabbed fistfuls of his hair and stared at the sky. Reagan had a baby? How was that even possible? She hadn’t been back in New York a year yet.

Then, like a slap across the face, it hit him. He spun around and walked the distance back to Ashley. “Tell me Landon’s not the father.”

A sad laugh played on her lips. “That’s what I thought.”

“He’s not?”

“Luke—” her face grew more intense than before, and her eyes pleaded with him to understand—“the baby’s
yours
. Your son.”

He felt his heart fall from his chest and hit the ground. Tears stung his eyes, and his jaw dropped as he sucked in a sharp breath.

The baby was
his?

How could the baby possibly be his? The truth cornered him, staring at him until he forced himself to look. As he did, denial stepped aside. What was he thinking? Of
course
the baby was his. Reagan would never have been with another man after their brief encounter. Not in the wake of losing her father.

The bench looked a long way down, but he dropped to it and felt the dirt beneath his feet turn to liquid. His mouth opened, but for the longest time no sound came out, no words. Nothing that could adequately convey what he was feeling, this strange disconnected sense that all of life had ceased and yet at the same time it was racing ahead at warp speed.

“I wasn’t going to…”

Luke closed his eyes and gave a light shake of his head. Two streams of tears fell onto his cheeks and ran into his beard, but he couldn’t lift his hands to wipe them. They’d been together just one night…one time. He’d lost track of how many days he’d tried to call her, and then finally he’d given up.

Never…never once had he considered that she might have gotten pregnant. That she’d returned to New York terrified, devastated at the loss of her father, only to find out that she was carrying a child.

Their child.

How must life have been for her? What did her mother think, learning about Reagan’s situation so soon after Mr. Decker’s death? And what about her pregnancy? Had she been alone with her concerns, her fears? Had the delivery gone smoothly, or had it been a difficult birth? Questions lined themselves up at the front steps of his mind, as far out as he could see.

His fingers tightened into fists, and he pressed them against his eyes. “Reagan.” Her name was more of a moan, and he let his head drop again. He clasped his hands at the back of his neck and stared at the ground.
I should’ve been there, Reagan. Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?

Ashley was saying something, something about Reagan. Her words ran together like a rush of waves crashing in a stormy surf. He lowered his hands and forced himself to concentrate. If Ashley had seen Reagan, then she must have some of the answers.

“Luke—” her voice was patient, gentle—“are you listening?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and another wave of tears spilled from his eyes. “Sorry. What?”

Ashley hesitated. “I was saying that she wanted to tell you herself.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “But I couldn’t wait. It’s been…well, it’s been too long.” Tears glistened in her eyes, too. “Your little boy needs you.” She tilted her head. “Reagan, too.”

A whole new rush of possibilities slammed around Luke’s mind, and he needed answers more than air. “Did you see him?” A sob was lodged in his throat, and he could barely work his voice. “The baby, I mean?”

For the first time since their meeting, a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “He’s beautiful, Luke.” A sound came from her that was more laugh than cry. “He looks just like you.”

The moment Ashley said the baby—
his
baby—looked like him, the idea became more than a source of shock. It became truth. He squinted, his entire body shaking. “I’m…I’m a father?”

“Yes.” Another laugh slipped from her throat, and this time her eyes sparkled. “You have to see him.”

Again the questions practically sent him to the ground. What would the Baxter family say now, now that he’d gotten Reagan pregnant and had a son? As soon as they knew, the pretense of his past would be gone forever. They’d know it wasn’t September 11 that had changed him.

It was September 10.

The onetime good-boy image would be gone for good. What would his parents and sisters think, and what would Pastor Mark at church say when he found out?

More than that, why should he care even a little
what
they thought?

“Luke, talk to me.”

He’d let himself drift again, oblivious to whatever Ashley was saying. “It’s too much…” He fell against the bench and dropped his head back this time, shielding his eyes with his hands.

His questions took a different direction, one that pretty much knocked the wind from him. If he had a son, then he needed to see him, needed to see Reagan and find out why she’d kept the truth from him. But what did that mean for his freethinking future?