Landon stood and shook her hand.
Ashley watched him, her head spinning. Everything about the moment felt surreal, like something from a strange and horrible dream. She leaned into her husband, and he helped her to her feet.
The moment they were outside the office, he inclined his head close to hers. “Are you okay? To walk, I mean?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were dry. They’d been dry all this time. She steeled herself against the news, against the sick feeling still welling up inside her. They walked in silence, the fog that had clouded her earlier back again. What was happening, and why weren’t they smiling and laughing the way she had pictured them looking when they left this appointment?
When they reached the van, Landon helped her inside and then quickly moved around to his door and joined her.
“The test could be wrong.” Her heart raced, and there was nothing she could do to calm it.
Landon didn’t start the van. He rested his arms on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “Tests are wrong all the time.”
Ashley placed her hands on her abdomen, as if she could somehow protect her daughter from the doctor’s declarations, from whatever it was the woman had seen on the ultrasound. Her mother’s face came to mind, her mom who always seemed to have the right thing to say in a situation like this. It was the verse, the one that had flashed in her heart while she was walking the track with Kari that day. A verse her mother had quoted often. She pressed her fingers to her throat, trying to find the strength. “Mom would tell me that Romans 8:28 is true no matter how dark the storm clouds.”
Landon looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, but he put his hand on her knee. “‘In all things God works for the good of those who love him.’”
“Yes. All things.”
Landon turned the key, pulled out of the parking space, and headed for the driveway.
He was halfway there when the fog in Ashley’s mind lifted. Quickly and certainly, the reality loomed like a jagged cliff, one they were speeding toward with no sign of stopping.
Tears rushed into her heart and soul and built up in her throat. They were having a little girl, and she didn’t want anything to be wrong with her. But suddenly, as clear as the trees that lined the driveway, she had to wonder if maybe it was true. Maybe her little girl had anencephaly, and maybe she wouldn’t live more than a few days.
Panic circled her and grabbed at her until she couldn’t contain her fear another minute. And why couldn’t she breathe? Her mouth was open, but her lungs were screaming for relief. She couldn’t get the image of her baby’s shadowy head out of her mind, and she held up her hand. “Wait!” Ashley panted, desperate for air. “Landon, stop!”
He pulled over and slammed the gearshift into park. Her fear was instantly contagious as he turned to her, alarm thick in his expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” She shook her head in short, fast movements. A birth and a funeral in the same week? “I can’t do this, Landon.” She kept one hand on her stomach. “I don’t want to. Nothing can be wrong with her.”
“Oh, baby, come here.” He leaned across the console and took her into his arms. In the process he spilled a nearly empty bottle of water in the cup holder, but neither of them made a move to clean it up.
“Maybe . . .” Ashley was gasping for air now, hyperventilating. She dug her fingernails into Landon’s shoulders. “Maybe . . . I can’t handle it.”
He held on to her. “We can handle it together.”
“Landon.” A burst of air slipped into her lungs, and the ability to breathe somehow released her tears. An ocean of tears. She clung to him and sobbed for her little girl, who might—just might—even now be fighting for her life. “Help me.”
“Ashley, I am.” Futility rang from his voice, and then—as if the idea had come to him all at once—he began to pray. No, it wasn’t merely a prayer. The words he lifted up to heaven on behalf of her and their baby were a desperate plea for help. “God, You are the Creator, the Healer. Nothing is impossible for You. So breathe life into our little girl, and please let the tests be wrong. Help us to never . . . never doubt that You are the giver of miracles.” There was an angry cry in his voice as he continued. “And if the tests . . . if they aren’t wrong . . . walk us through what lies ahead. Please, God.”
With every word of Landon’s prayer, Ashley felt reason returning, righting her world once more. God had created the universe. Certainly He could heal their daughter—if the tests were even accurate.
Small sobs were still shaking her shoulders, but she pulled back and looked at Landon. “From this day on, I’m believing God for a miracle.” She grabbed three quick breaths and dabbed her fingertips beneath her eyes. “I might be . . . afraid. But I won’t doubt.”
Landon hesitated, and for a moment it seemed like he might say something to correct her. Something about getting prepared in case the test results were right and God didn’t choose to heal their baby. But then determination filled his eyes. “I won’t either.”
“We have to tell the others.” Ashley sniffed. She put her hands back on her stomach, as close to their unborn daughter as she could get. “So they can pray.”
“We’ll call your dad when we get home.”
“And Brooke.” She straightened back into her seat. “One of them might know of something we can do, another test we can take.”
Like that they set their course. They would move forward, stealing from fear as many moments as possible so they could enjoy Ashley’s pregnancy and make plans for the arrival of their little girl. As often as they could, they would pray and believe and not doubt.
And they would ask everyone who loved them to do the same.
The praying was about to begin, but no matter how positive Ashley and Landon tried to come across, the mood was tense and somber. Ashley’s phone call last night had prompted John to call his kids and ask them to pray. The prayer meeting was Kari’s idea. She and Ashley hadn’t talked yet, but Kari was deeply shaken. Like Ashley, she wanted to believe that the test was wrong or that if it was right, God was going to grant Ashley’s baby a miraculous healing.
Now they were gathered in the Baxter living room, the way they’d gathered so many times before. Dayne and Katy sat in one corner next to Kari and Ryan. Brooke and Peter sat on the couch across from them, and Ashley and Landon were side by side in a pair of dining room chairs. John sat in his recliner and surveyed his family. The sense of shock was similar to what it had been after 9/11 or when they returned home after Elizabeth’s funeral.
John stood and took a few steps toward the family room. “I’ll check on the kids.”
Ryan and Peter nodded, but otherwise no one responded.
John walked past the kitchen and into the next room. The kids were watching a cartoon movie, the volume turned down so it wouldn’t be disruptive. It was eight o’clock on a school night, and even the little ones were quiet, cuddled up between their older cousins under a couple of blankets.
“Everyone okay?”
Cole looked up and wrinkled his brow. “How come everyone’s so sad?”
“We’re not sad.” John’s answer was quick. “We’re just praying for your little sister.”
“Why just for her?” Cole put his arm on the back of the sofa and turned enough so he could see John’s face clearly. “Why not for Aunt Kari’s baby girl too?”
John hesitated. Ashley and Landon hadn’t told Cole anything except that they needed to pray extra hard for his sister. Now, though, Cole had a point. “We’ll pray for Aunt Kari’s baby too.”
“Good.” Relief filled Cole’s eyes. “Every baby should be prayed for.” He turned back to the cartoon and settled into the sofa once more.
John stepped a little farther into the room. “You kids stay in here, all right? We won’t take too long.”
Mindless nods went around the room.
He smiled at the kids and headed back to the others. As he did, the certain sadness came over him again. He knew
all about anencephaly. Yes, God could miraculously heal Ashley and Landon’s baby, but this much he understood clearly about neural tube defects: the testing was almost never wrong, and he’d never heard of a single case in which a baby was spontaneously healed.
He stopped in the hallway and gathered his strength. Ashley was looking for him to be strong, for his attitude to reflect hers or maybe lead it. Her call last night had been short and to the point.
He could still hear her voice, the way it left no room for debate as she rattled off what she knew. “Landon and I aren’t settling for this diagnosis. We want everyone to pray and believe with us that the test might be wrong or that the baby will be healed.” Her words were thick, and he had no doubt she’d been crying.
If she wanted a strong front from him, she would get it. There was no need to tell her the stark facts about that type of birth defect. Time would be teller enough. The problem tonight wasn’t so much with Ashley and Landon as it was with Brooke.
Already Brooke had tried to pull him aside when Ashley was busy getting the kids set up in the other room. “Dad, she doesn’t have to go through with this. You and I both know that—”
John had held up his hand. Was his oldest daughter suggesting abortion? If so, they would have to have a much longer talk about this later. “Not now. Ashley asked us to meet so we could pray for her baby.” His tone left no room for negotiation. “You and I can talk later.”
Since then, Brooke had been unusually quiet, whispering on occasion to her doctor husband, Peter.
John clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Here we are again, Lord . . . together with all the dark clouds of uncertainty lined up on the horizon ahead of us. The facts are shouting at me, so be louder, God. Let me hear Your voice tonight and only Yours.
He opened his eyes and willed himself to act stronger than he felt. Elaine wasn’t here tonight, but she was praying from home. They’d talked earlier today, and he could count on her support.
He was walking back to the living room when the front door opened and Luke and Reagan and their kids came in. Luke’s eyes met his, and for a moment they both froze. Luke and Ashley had been particularly close as kids, and though they had a falling out in the years after Ashley returned from Paris, they’d been close again for years now.
“Where do you want the kids?”
“The family room.” John nodded over his shoulder. “They’re watching a movie.”
Reagan tended to Tommy and Malin, removing their sweaters and leading them quietly into the room with the other cousins.
“Dad—” Luke came a few steps closer—“is it possible?”
“Ashley doesn’t want to think so.” John wanted desperately to protect Ashley from the skepticism that was bound to come from the others. Anyone who knew about anencephaly might think it better for Ashley and Landon to face the truth while praying for their miracle.
“But what about you?” Luke looked broken, as if he could cry for his sister at any moment. “What do you think?”
“This kind of birth defect is always fatal.” He kept his voice low. “And the tests are virtually never wrong.”
Luke put his hand on the wall in front of him and hung his head. “No.” His voice broke. “How can this be happening?”
For a few seconds, John didn’t answer. He put his arm around Luke’s shoulders. “God has every life, every soul, in the palm of His hand. Tonight . . . that’s all we need to remember.”
Luke sighed and lifted his head. Then, as if he’d tapped into a strength that hadn’t been there a moment earlier, he straightened. “Where is she?”
“In the living room with everyone else.”
Luke led the way, and John watched him stop at the doorway to the room and find Ashley. Then without saying a word to anyone else, he crossed the floor and held his arms out to her. “Ash . . .”
She stood and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace.
The scene reminded John of a thousand times when these two had helped each other through a hard time. He blinked back tears and cleared his throat. “The kids are settled. Let’s get started.”
Luke sat on the floor near Ashley and Landon, and Reagan joined him there.
John fought the thickness in his throat. “We’ve done this before, and I’m sure we’ll do this again. But it’s important, and it’s what makes us a family.” Left on his own, he might’ve picked a Bible verse from John 16, where Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” But Landon had asked him to share a verse from Luke.
John reached for his black Bible, the one that stayed on the table next to his chair. He flipped through the well-worn pages until he reached the Scripture. “Luke 1:37 tells us simply this: ‘Nothing is impossible with God.’” He stared at the words for another heartbeat; then he shut the Bible and returned it to the table.
Landon was holding Ashley’s hand. He looked determined to carry the burden of this alone. “That’s the verse we’d like you all to keep in mind when you pray for us.” He gave a confident nod, but it didn’t hide the fear layered deep in his eyes. “We’ve asked everyone here so we could pray together out loud.” He looked at each of the faces around him. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“I’d like to start.” Luke had his arm around Reagan’s shoulders, but now he turned slightly and put his hand on Ashley’s knee.
The others nodded, and hands were linked around the room.
When everyone was ready, Luke began. “Dear God, You’ve always been with us, no matter what situation has come our way.” His voice sounded thick, and he paused. “Before Devin was born, we huddled around Ashley, waiting for a tornado to pass. You pulled us through then, and I know . . . I believe with my whole being that You’ll pull us through now. Tests are wrong, and I pray that this test is one of those. A year from now—” His voice cracked again.
John opened his eyes and watched his son’s struggle.
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a strong shake of his head. “Sorry.” He coughed twice and tried again. “A year from now, I pray that we can sit around this same room admiring Ashley and Landon’s healthy little girl. Thank You.”
For the next half hour, prayers came from each of them. Dayne prayed that God would hold Ashley’s unborn baby girl tight to His heart, and Katy echoed that prayer with a similar one of her own.
Kari was quick to pray next, declaring that she would believe for a miracle and that she looked forward to the day when her unborn daughter and Ashley’s could play together. Halfway through her prayer, she started crying. But she kept on, undaunted. “Lord, these two little cousins have been planned for from the beginning; we believe that. Please let them have the lives we’ve been dreaming about.”
Only Brooke’s prayer hinted of a sense of acceptance and inevitability. “Lord, we don’t always understand Your ways. Thank You for giving us options when we’re faced with insurmountable odds.”
Before the praying ended, John remembered Cole’s request. “Lord, we also pray for Kari and Ryan’s baby girl, that she might be developing into a healthy child and that her delivery will go smoothly.”
When they finished, John opened his eyes and saw that Cole and Maddie had entered the room. They sat near their mothers, their heads bowed. Sometimes John and the other adults tended to think that kids didn’t pick up on the more serious events that happened around them. That they had been blithely unaware of Elizabeth’s cancer or the seriousness of Hayley’s near drowning.
But as Cole lifted his face, John had no doubt that the child knew. Whether he’d been told or not, he could certainly sense that something was wrong, that once again his parents faced a terrible storm at the time when his mother was going to have a baby. The proof was there for all of them to see. Because Cole’s eyes were no longer filled with the certainty John had seen earlier.
They were filled with tears.
The adults were standing, stretching, and making their
way over to Ashley and Landon. Luke and Reagan, Kari and Ryan all kept their comments upbeat and positive—like their prayers.
But Brooke walked discreetly past Ashley and headed for John. “Dad, we need to talk.” She looked beyond concerned. Almost urgent.
Peter cast them both a knowing look as he walked past. “I’ll get the girls.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at him, but just as quickly she turned back to John. “Please, Dad. Come into the kitchen.”
With Ashley busy talking to the others, John agreed. He followed his oldest daughter into the kitchen and over near the stove, where their conversation couldn’t be heard by anyone else.
Brooke didn’t waste any time. “What I was trying to tell you earlier is that Ashley’s wrong. There’s no mistake with the test. Any doctor could spot anencephaly on an ultrasound.” She was trembling, as if this news were strangling her. “You know that.”
“Yes.” He kept his tone calm. “But for every foolproof test there’s an exception. Something a doctor mistook for a problem, when in fact it was a glitch in the imagery or the baby’s hand covering its head. You have to admit that scenario is possible.”
Brooke pressed her fingers to her chest. “It’s possible the sun won’t come up, but it’s not very likely. Most people have to plan for tomorrow on the assumption it’s coming.”
“What are you saying?” Anger stirred in John’s soul. “That we shouldn’t pray? That it’s bad for Ashley and Landon to ask for a miracle?” He studied her. “You of all people, Brooke. Every time you look at Hayley you should know that miracles happen.”
“Of course they do. But if Ashley’s baby has anencephaly, then her brain is already growing outside her skull. I researched it yesterday, Dad, and there’s never been a case of anencephaly reversing itself. Not ever.”
“I know about neural tube defects. I was a doctor before you were born, remember?”
“Okay, so why isn’t someone telling her that now—before it gets any later—she should be considering an abortion?”
“Brooke, listen to you! You have no right to—” Before he could finish his sentence, something caught his eye and he turned.