“I know. I met with them a few weeks ago and told them exactly that.” Bethany made a face. “Apparently the builders’ proposals include a new movie theater complex with architecture that’ll match the renovated look of the downtown area.”
Katy’s shoulders sank a few inches. “That’s not fair.”
For a few moments no one said anything. They were all in agreement. The kids of Bloomington needed a program like CKT, but without the theater, the group wouldn’t survive.
Finally Bethany said, “It isn’t fair, but it’s a fact. We’ll have to announce it after the last show. Until then, the owners of the theater have agreed to keep the sale quiet.”
The rest of the meeting passed quickly, and before they left, they formed a circle, held hands, and prayed again.
Chad led them this time. “Give us a miracle, God. Show us how we can keep the theater open. We ask in Christ’s name, amen.”
When the group was gone, Katy wandered back onto the deck. Uneasiness settled on her shoulders, making her doubt every decision she’d made in the past year, except one. Marrying Dayne was something she would never regret. But agreeing to take part in his Hollywood life? Leaving Bloomington to star in a movie?
She heard Dayne step onto the deck and come up behind her. He wove his hands around her waist and kissed her cheek. For a long time he didn’t say anything, just stared out at the sky and the gray-blue water stretched out beneath it.
Finally he spoke softly against the side of her face. “It isn’t your fault.”
“It is.” She lifted her chin, angry with herself. “I never should’ve agreed to leave.”
“Okay, so let’s say you stay here.” His words were kind, unhurried.
“I stay here and we find a place for the kids to perform.” She leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder. “No one’s more passionate for CKT than me, Dayne. I’ve seen kids from broken homes find a family in this group and kids from great homes sharing the experience of a lifetime with their parents.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve seen them learn how to love and learn how to forgive. I’ve watched them come together for a show that was so much greater than what any of them could do on their own.”
“I know.” Dayne pressed his face against hers. They were both still staring straight ahead, soaking up the incredible view from their back door. “I’ve watched you be a part of it.”
Katy turned and faced him. “Those kids need CKT.”
“They need God, and they need each other.” He smiled, compassion warming his expression. “They were lucky to have CKT as long as they did.”
“But if I stay—”
“It won’t matter.” His interruption wasn’t rude; it was firm. “Bethany’s looked all over the city for another theater.” His words hung on the afternoon breeze. “There’s nothing you could do, Katy. Whether you stay or go, CKT won’t have a place to perform.”
She breathed in sharply through her nose. “Why, Dayne? Why would God let this happen?”
“Maybe CKT’s served its purpose.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face. “Maybe so you’ll feel good about spending this next season with me.”
Katy rested her forehead on his chest and let her mind wrap around the possibility. The timing was certainly interesting. She and Dayne heading off to Hollywood for what could be the beginning of a time of acting together, just when the theater was being sold out from underneath the CKT kids.
“If I had my way, we’d stay right here, and CKT would head into the sunset performing musicals in that old theater.”
“Ah, Katy.” Dayne ran his hand along the back of her neck, soothing her nerves. “I love that you’re a dreamer.”
“But I’m not.” She lifted her head. “I’m a doer. Only this time you’re right. There’s nothing I can do to change things for CKT.” Another sad thought hit her. “I’ll be gone for their last show.”
“We’ll fly back for closing weekend. The director won’t have a problem if we tell him ahead of time.”
She hated thinking about all the good-byes to come. “We’ll be here for auditions.”
“And the first couple of rehearsals.”
She tried to picture Tim Reed, Bailey and Connor Flanigan, the Shaffers, the Picks, the Weils, and so many other families and kids when they heard the news about CKT. The ache in her heart doubled. Sometime in June, the theater would go up for sale, and a few months after that it would be demolished, leveled to make way for high-rise condominiums. Old theaters weren’t profitable, not in today’s market. And so there was no way around it, no matter how they prayed. They would have to walk through the days and trust that if God had brought these kids something as wonderful as CKT, He would replace it with something better.
Even if for now Katy could think of nothing better than the magic and memories they’d built together inside the walls of the lovable old brick theater, a building she would always see on the edge of the park in downtown Bloomington.
No matter what they built in its place.
Landon released his hold on Ashley. “We have to go.”
She nodded, but she said nothing. What could she say until they met with Dr. McDaniel, until they found out whatever it was that had darkened her expression a few minutes earlier?
Just as Landon reached for the door handle, there was a knock from the other side. “Ashley?” It sounded like Brooke.
Landon exchanged a look with his wife. “Don’t say anything.”
“I won’t.” Ashley gave a sharp shake of her head. “It might be nothing.”
Landon held on to that truth. Even if the meeting ahead of them was only protocol, this wasn’t the time to visit with Ashley’s sister. But they couldn’t avoid it, either. Brooke was a doctor, and her office was one floor above Dr. McDaniel’s. She knew about Ashley’s ultrasound this morning, and she was bound to stop by. All of the Baxters knew about Ashley’s ultrasound, and everyone had their opinions about whether she was having a boy or a girl.
“Come in.” Landon glanced at the clock on the wall. This had to be short.
“Hey, Brooke.” Ashley found a smile, but her face was still pale.
“So . . .” Brooke beamed. She held out her hands and looked from Ashley to Landon and back again. “Like Maddie said, I need to find out if I’m going to be an aunt or an uncle.”
Landon chuckled, but it sounded forced. He nodded to Ashley. “You tell her.”
“We’re having a girl.” Ashley lifted her shoulders and grinned. As she did, tears filled her eyes. “Isn’t that great?”
As if she was just cluing in to the atmosphere in the examination room, Brooke’s smile faded. “Wait . . .” She looked at Landon. “Is everything okay?”
“We think so.” Landon reached for Ashley’s hand. “Her AFP test was high.” He hated this. He wanted to be alone with Ashley, hurry her down the hall to the doctor’s office so they could hear the news that everything was okay. All this worrying was for nothing.
Brooke’s eyes grew wide. “What about Dr. McDaniel? What did she say?”
“She wants to see us in her office.” Landon shrugged. “We were just about to go.”
“AFP tests are high a lot of the time. Did she tell you that?” Brooke put her hand on Ashley’s shoulder. “Some pregnancies just run high.”
“Cole’s was high.” Ashley’s voice was shaky. She patted Brooke’s hand. “Thanks for coming by. I guess we better . . . we better go.”
“Amy’s a friend of mine.” Brooke seemed to be working to sound confident. “She’s very cautious; your baby’s probably fine.” She took a few steps toward the door. No doubt her words were meant to be reassuring, but the alarm in her expression said that she too feared what the doctor might tell them. “Call me later, okay? We’re home tonight.”
Ashley gave a quick nod. “Thanks.”
With a final look, Brooke turned and headed back down the hall.
Landon exhaled. Whatever the news, he wanted to face it without an audience.
Just him and Ashley and God. From the moment he’d heard about the high AFP test, he’d felt a strange knot in his gut, a knowing that the news today was going to be almost more than they could bear.
When Brooke was gone, he led Ashley down the hall to the small office where Dr. McDaniel was sitting behind her desk. Photos of smiling little boys and a precious girl filled her desk. For a split second, Landon wanted to turn and run, take Ashley far from the medical office to a place where their future was still full of promise.
Before he could take another breath, the doctor looked up. Her expression told him that his feeling had been real, a warning sent from God. It was the sort of feeling he’d had once before, back on September 11, 2001, when he watched the Twin Towers collapse with his firefighter buddy Jalen inside.
That certain, horrible feeling that after today life would never be the same again.
Ashley willed herself to take in air as she and Landon sat next to each other opposite Dr. McDaniel. This whole buildup was nothing more than a figment of their imaginations. How crazy they were to read into a doctor’s sigh or her expression. The woman did ultrasounds all day long. Of course she wasn’t going to smile through every one of them.
Breathe, she told herself. Keep breathing. Ashley folded her hands on her lap and pressed her arm against Landon’s.
Dr. McDaniel turned to them, and her eyes glistened. “I’m afraid I have very bad news.” She turned her computer so they could see the screen. The ultrasound image that appeared was of their baby’s head. The head that had looked so normal just minutes ago.
“See here?” The doctor touched an area that appeared cloudier than the rest. “This is where the spine meets the back of the head, and it’s where something called the neural tube should naturally close up during development. But for some babies, this process doesn’t happen.”
Ashley squinted at the picture. What was she talking about? Neural tubes? How come she’d never heard of such a thing until now? Next to her, Landon was breathing harder than before. Ashley forced herself to listen.
“You can see here—” Dr. McDaniel pointed at the shady area again—“unfortunately your baby’s neural tube did not close properly.” She looked about to cry, and she shook her head. “Because of that, she will definitely have a neural tube defect.”
Landon slid to the edge of his seat. “Is this . . . is this something that can be corrected inside the womb?”
“No. I’m afraid not. This type of birth defect is fatal 100 percent of the time.” Dr. McDaniel’s shoulders fell, and she looked down for a moment. “The condition is called anencephaly. I’ve seen only two other cases in all my years of delivering babies, but I’ve researched it extensively.” She folded her hands and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ashley . . . Landon. Many babies with this type of neural tube defect die before birth.”
A fog fell over Ashley, and she stared at her lap. The information was wrong. It had to be. She’d already begun feeling the baby move. In some far-removed corner of her mind, Ashley could hear the doctor going on, talking about the baby’s brain developing outside her head and how a few hours or a few days was the longest a baby could live with . . . whatever it was the woman thought her baby had. Anen-something. And more information . . . too much information.
Ashley closed her eyes. She felt sick, and suddenly she stood up. “I need a bathroom.”
The doctor was instantly up and opening the door for her. “It’s across the hall.”
Landon stayed by her side, holding her elbow so she wouldn’t fall. She barely made it to the sink in time before losing her breakfast.
“Ashley,” Landon whispered close to her. He held her hair back from her face. “We’ll get through this. The test could be wrong.”
And there it was. The single ray of light in the darkest cavern Ashley had ever found herself in. The test could be wrong. Her stomach was still warring against the news, but after a few minutes, she straightened. Her knees shook and her hands trembled, but she found the strength to grab a nearby roll of paper towels and clean out the sink.
Landon helped, and he pulled a paper cup from a wall dispenser and filled it with cool water. “Here. Take small sips.”
Ashley homed in on his voice, like a person lost in a blinding snowstorm. She took the water and brought it to her lips. The test was wrong. That had to be the answer. Her baby girl was fine. Her arms and legs and hands and feet were perfect. The shadow near her head might’ve been an air pocket or the way the baby was lying. That was possible, wasn’t it?
She dried her mouth and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were gray, her eyes wide with fear. Dark spots danced before her, and she steadied herself on the sink. “I feel . . . like I’m going to faint.”
“I’m here.” Landon placed himself behind her, supporting her elbows so she wouldn’t fall. “We can get a second opinion, Ash. We can’t be defeated by one ultrasound. God’s bigger than this.”
Ashley nodded. Yes, God was bigger. But God allowed some women to walk this path, right? She remembered a woman who had come to church for the first time a few weeks ago. Her four-year-old had cancer, and the illness was tearing her family apart. And that woman loved the same Lord, so it was possible. She turned and gripped Landon’s arm. “What if . . . ?”
His expression told her he was already there, already imagining the same thing. “Whatever happens—” he gritted his teeth—“God will lead us.” He pulled her into a desperate hug, clinging to her. “If we don’t believe that now . . . then we won’t believe it ever.”
His words breathed strength into her. She grabbed a few quick breaths and eased back from him. Her hands were still shaky. She reached for the paper cup and drank enough that her mouth was no longer dry.
“You ready?” Landon looked as though he felt the same way she did. As though the last place he wanted to go was back into the doctor’s office, back to the results that—if they were true—would be devastating. But this was one of the reasons she loved Landon. In his expression was the same resolve that made him a great firefighter, the resolve that wouldn’t let him give up on her all those years when she was being stubborn. He was the sort of guy who rushed into a burning building, not out of it. And when his friend was buried in the rubble of the Twin Towers, Landon had been the one who put his own life on hold while he spent nearly three months digging through the pile until his friend was found.
Whatever the truth about their little girl, Landon would stand strong in the journey. And he would do so not just for himself but for her. She held tight to his arm and nodded.
They returned to the office, and this time Dr. McDaniel met them on the other side of her desk. She hugged Ashley and then Landon before they were seated. “I’m so sorry. I can only tell you that God has a plan for every child. No matter how brief the life.”
Ashley felt sick again.
“We’ll meet in a few weeks so we can talk about the details. For now, I understand you need time.” She handed Landon a pamphlet. “Anencephaly is described here. We can do another ultrasound in a few weeks, but the results of today’s test are conclusive.” She leaned against her desk and folded her arms. “I’m so sorry.”
Ashley pursed her lips and exhaled in short bursts. She refused to let the doctor’s words penetrate to her heart. The woman wasn’t saying this about her baby, about her first daughter. No, she was merely reciting a list of medical facts. Nothing was conclusive until a baby was born. God would have the final say. Period.
Landon took the material and assured the doctor they would schedule another ultrasound for two weeks from now.
“I don’t think this will interest you, but I must tell you all the same.” Dr. McDaniel looked beyond sad, as if the news she was delivering had indeed touched her in a personal way. “Many women choose to abort babies with anencephaly. It’s—” she seemed to struggle to find the right words—“very difficult emotionally carrying a baby to full term knowing that the baby will die almost immediately upon birth. Ob
viously an abortion isn’t something I would do, and it’s not something I would recommend. But I’m obligated to tell you.”
Another wave of nausea washed over Ashley. She gripped the arms of her chair, and for a moment she was back in France, back in the abortion clinic ready to rid her body of the tiny life growing inside her. A shiver ran down her spine and her arms. At the last possible moment, she had decided her mistakes weren’t her baby’s fault, and she’d listened to herself, her instincts, instead of the technician at the clinic or the married artist she’d slept with months earlier.
Her decision to choose life had resulted in one of the greatest gifts ever. Her son Cole. The words stuck in her throat for a few seconds, but then in a rush they came out loud and certain, interrupting the doctor even as she was talking about various counselors they might visit and how anyone could understand having an abortion under these circumstances. “There won’t be an abortion. Not ever.”
Landon looped his arm through hers. His voice was calmer but just as certain. “We wouldn’t consider it.”
“I know.” The doctor dabbed beneath her eyes. “The road ahead will be marked with great joy as your baby grows and great sorrow. But I must say, even a short life can be very significant.”
“Doctor.” Landon stopped short of interrupting the woman, but frustration sounded in his tone. “The test could be wrong . . . because all tests can be wrong. And if not, we’ll be praying that God will heal our daughter.”
Dr. McDaniel opened her mouth to say something, but then she stopped herself. “I’ll be praying too.” She hesitated. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”