A Time to Dance

  Matt hugged them both. “Nicole wanted you to pray for the baby, but pray for her, too. She’s bleeding internally. Her blood pressure is way too low.”

  Abby had to force herself not to run down the hall and find Nicole. It was one thing that the baby was in danger . . . but Nicole? Abby hadn’t even considered that possibility. Certainly God wouldn’t allow something to happen to Nicole. Not now, when so much had happened. They’d already lost one daughter.

  God wouldn’t take a second one, would He?

  Matt took off down the hall, and John reached for her fingers. “Come on.” He led her to an armchair in the private waiting room and positioned himself as close to her as possible. With careful hands, he framed her face and forced her to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking, Abby. But you need to stop. We have to believe God’s here with us, that He’ll help Nicole and the baby get through this.”

  Abby was too afraid to do anything but nod. “Pray, John. Please.”

  He bowed his head close to hers and placed Nicole and the baby in God’s hands. “We trust You, God. No matter how the situation looks, no matter what else has happened before, we trust You. And we believe You’ll work a miracle for our daughter and her baby.”

  As John prayed, Abby realized how strongly she still believed. Despite everything that had happened, God’s fingerprints were everywhere. John had survived the accident, hadn’t he? The two of them loved each other again, didn’t they? And she’d finally been able to be honest with her feelings.

  A wave of panic overshadowed her peace, but only for a moment. There was no time to fear. Not with Nicole and the baby fighting for their lives down the hallway. Even now, in the midst of a crisis, God was at work somehow.

  Abby had to believe that.

  Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she’d make it through the night. Without her faith, another loss now would certainly send her over the edge.

  A full hour passed before Matt appeared in the waiting room. He looked ten years older, but Abby felt a surge of elation. He was smiling!

  “Nicole’s okay. The bleeding was because of a tear in the placenta, something that can be fatal.” He sucked in a slow breath, his eyes red and bleary. “I waited with her until her blood pressure came back up. She’s tired, but the doctors say she’s not in danger.”

  Abby exhaled hard. “Thank God . . . I knew He’d save her.”

  “What about the baby?” John put his hand on Abby’s knee, his features taut.

  Matt’s smile faded. “It’s a girl. But it doesn’t look good. She’s barely two pounds and she’s having trouble breathing. They put her in intensive care.”

  So Nicole had been right. A baby girl . . . but now it looked as though none of them would even get to meet her. Poor little thing, alone in an incubator, struggling for every breath. Abby’s arms ached for the chance to hold her. “Can we see either of them?”

  “Nicole’s back in her room. She might be asleep, but I know she’d want you to come in.” Matt’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. “I’m not sure about our little girl.” His eyes met theirs again. “She’s so small. I’ve never seen a baby that little.”

  They followed Matt to Nicole’s room, and as they went, John tapped Abby’s leg. She turned to him and he pointed to his feet. “Let’s tell her.”

  Of course! The news about John’s surgery, the chance he might walk again! It was bound to encourage her. “You tell her.”

  They entered the room, and Nicole opened her eyes. “Hi.” Her voice was groggy. “How’s the baby?”

  “They’re working on her, honey.” Matt was at her side instantly, soothing his hand over her forehead.

  Nicole looked past him to Abby and John. “She’s absolutely wonderful. The littlest bit of dark hair and perfect tiny features. Have you seen her?”

  “Not yet.” Abby bit her lip. “She’s very small, Nic.”

  “I know, but she’s going to be okay. I feel it in my bones.”

  John glanced at Abby, and she nodded. A distraction would be good. Especially the type of distraction John wanted to share. He moved his wheelchair to the foot of her bed and took hold of her toes. “There’s something I need to tell you, Nic.”

  “Okay.” She blinked, her lids heavy, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” He looked at Abby once more. “This week I saw the doctor. He ran some tests and decided they could operate on my neck. The surgery’s set to take place in about a month.”

  Nicole’s eyes grew wide, and Matt turned an open mouth toward John. Nicole sat up straighter in bed, wincing at her soreness. “What for?”

  “Well . . . I’ve been having feeling in my toes. Once in a while they even move a little.” John’s eyes twinkled. Abby doubted she’d ever been happier for him. “I guess in rare cases this kind of operation can repair the break.”

  “But what about your legs?” Matt’s tone was gentle, awed.

  John’s chin quivered, and he struggled to find the words. Abby cleared her throat and finished for him. “He could regain full function.”

  Nicole hooted out loud. “Dad! That’s amazing!”

  “It’s just a chance, but we’re praying.” John sat back in his chair and chuckled. “A while ago your mom thought God was up to something big in our lives. It looks like she was right.”

  “She is. I know it. Your legs and our little girl’s survival.” Nicole folded her arms. “You have to see her, Mom. She’s so beautiful.”

  Sorrow circled Abby’s heart, but she forced herself to smile. “I’m sure she is, honey.”

  “You guys are grandparents!” Nicole’s voice was tired again, but her enthusiasm hadn’t waned. “Can you believe it?”

  Abby hadn’t given the idea a single thought. The only thing that mattered was the safety of Nicole and the baby. Now that the little girl was born, she hadn’t yet acknowledged the truth: she and John were grandparents. It was unbelievable, and for the briefest moment she wondered how this scene would’ve played out if they’d gone ahead with their divorce plans. Most likely he wouldn’t have been here for this event. It would have been too awkward, too difficult.

  How good God had been to them! She slipped her arm around John’s shoulders and studied Nicole, the peace in her eyes. “Have you named her?”

  Nicole and Matt had gone through dozens of names, never really settling on one for either a boy or a girl. But now they gave each other a subtle grin, and Nicole looked at Abby. “Yes. Haley Jo. After my sister . . . and Matt’s mother.”

  “Oh, Nic.” Abby could do nothing to stop the tears. “That’s beautiful.”

  There was silence between them then, silence and the soft sound of tears. Abby guessed they all were thinking the same thing. The first Haley hadn’t survived, and now this Haley might not either.

  Before anyone could speak, the doctor came in. “Nicole, your baby’s in serious distress. I know you’re tired, but I’d like to get you in a wheelchair and take you down to the neonatal intensive care unit. I think it might help if she felt your touch, heard your voice.”

  In a blur, Nicole was lifted from the bed into a chair, and she and Matt left the room with the doctor in tow. Only Abby and John were left in the room. “What if she dies before we get a chance to see her?” Abby fell into John’s lap and circled his neck with her arms.

  “Then she and Haley Ann will have a party in heaven.” John kissed her forehead. “And one day when it’s our turn, they’ll be there to greet us.”

  At three o’clock that morning, Matt found them again in the waiting room. This time his voice was thick with tears. “The doctor says you can go in.” Matt folded his arms. “She might not make it. Nicole wanted you to see her before . . .”

  He didn’t finish his thought. John wheeled himself toward Matt, and Abby kept in step behind him. “We’ll follow you.”

  Matt showed them into a sterilization area, where they were both given hospital gowns and directed to wash their ha
nds. Afterward, a nurse met them at the entrance to the special unit. “It’ll have to be quick. We’re working very hard to save her.”

  The nurse led the way, followed by John and Abby, and finally Matt. Abby couldn’t speak as they stopped at an incubator. The nurse laid her hand on top of the clear cover. “This is Haley.”

  Matt stayed a few feet back so Abby and John could get a clear look. Nicole had been right. The child was gorgeous, a miniature of Nicole at that age and even . . . yes . . . a strong resemblance to—“Do you see it, John?”

  His eyes glistened with tears as he nodded, never taking his gaze off the tiny infant. “She looks like Haley Ann.”

  “Really?” Matt poked his head between them, staring at the tiny child. “Nicole and I couldn’t figure out who she looked like.”

  Abby studied the baby again. Her tiny fingers were no thicker than spaghetti noodles, and her entire body would’ve fit comfortably in one of John’s hands. There were hairlike wires attached to her at several places, and she was nearly covered with monitoring patches and bands. Her skin that did show was pale and translucent. Clearly not the normal skin of a newborn.

  Abby placed her palm against the warm glass. “Come on, little Haley, keep breathing. We’re pulling for you, baby.”

  John squeezed her knee, but said nothing. Her quiet words had spoken for both of them. Suddenly Abby realized that Matt’s parents weren’t there. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Have you called your mom and dad?”

  “Their phone’s off the hook or something. Every time I call it’s busy.”

  “We’ll go by and tell them on the way home.” John wheeled himself back a bit. “You and Nicole need your time. But we’ll be praying for Haley. And we’re only a phone call away if anything changes.”

  John was right, but Abby wanted nothing more than to sit beside the baby’s incubator, willing her to breathe. The entire scene reminded her of that final morning with Haley Ann, when Abby had laid her down for a nap and found her two hours later, dead in her crib.

  If only she’d stayed with her, watched her breathe . . . jolted her into catching her breath the moment her body stopped drawing air. Then Haley Ann would’ve lived. And maybe the same was true for this Haley, also. This precious granddaughter.

  John was waiting for her, but Abby studied little Haley one more time. I’m giving her to You, God . . . watch over her. Keep her breathing, please.

  An image filled Abby’s mind, that of a smiling, youthful Jesus cradling Haley Jo in His arms and holding her close to His chest. Convinced of that, Abby was finally able to pull herself away. The message she’d gotten from the image was clear as air. There was nothing Abby could do for Haley that Jesus wasn’t already doing.

  Her life, her future . . . her next breath . . . were all in His hands.

  Twenty-seven

  WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG JUST BEFORE NOON, Abby was certain it would be Jo and Denny. Nicole had called that morning to say that Haley had survived the night. After Abby and John had alerted Matt’s parents, they went straight to the hospital. Now, Abby figured, they were coming by to share their fears. Certainly to join Abby and John in their concern for the tiny baby.

  But when Abby opened the door, it wasn’t Matt’s parents.

  It was Jake Daniels’s.

  Tara and Tim stood on the front mat, looking at each other like awkward teenagers, and then at Abby. Tara spoke first. “Can we come in?”

  “Sure.” Abby stepped back, surprised. Since that day at court, neither of them had made contact with Abby or John. “I was expecting someone else.”

  The Danielses moved into the entryway, but Tim stopped. “If you’re having company, we can come back.”

  Abby waved her hand. “No, nothing like that.” She hesitated. “Nicole had her baby early this morning. I sort of expected her husband’s parents to stop by.”

  “Is the baby okay?” Concern flashed in Tim’s eyes.

  “No. Not really.” Abby’s voice was suddenly thick. “She’s two months early. We’re praying for her.”

  John must have heard their voices. He came wheeling down the hallway and waved. “Come on in.”

  They moved into the living room. John positioned himself close to Abby’s chair. “Still on leave from work, Tim?”

  “Yes.” He exchanged a look with Tara. “Jake’s hearing is Thursday.”

  “He might get a year at a juvenile detention center.” Tara slid a little closer to Tim. “But that’d be the worst of it.”

  Abby squirmed in her chair. Was this why they’d come? To talk about Jake’s sentence?

  “We didn’t come to talk about that.” Tim folded his hands and planted his forearms on his knees. “Remember in court that day . . . you told us the two of you almost divorced last year?”

  John nodded.

  Tara raised an eyebrow. “We’ve wanted to come ever since, but . . . I couldn’t.” She crossed her legs and leaned closer to Tim. “Now the hearing’s next week, and after that Tim needs to get back to work. That means our time together is almost over, and we still haven’t talked about what we’re feeling. Or whether we should get back together.”

  Abby understood. “You’re afraid.”

  “Tim and I fought so much before he left. Then, when he was gone, all I could think about was what we’d thrown away. The love and laughter and memories. All of it was gone.”

  “I felt that way, too, but Tara doesn’t believe me.” Tim tossed his hands in the air. “There’s no question we want to be together, but we can’t get beyond the past.”

  Tim and Tara’s words could have been their own a year ago, when Abby’s father died. Without a doubt Abby and John knew that day that they still cared for each other, still wanted each other, but the mountain of hurt was simply too high to scale.

  “After Tim moved away, he began dating.” The pain showed in Tara’s eyes. “Here I was grieving all we’d lost, and he’s out in New Jersey getting a new haircut, a new job, and a new girlfriend. Sometimes every few weeks. How could I compete with that?”

  Tim turned his hands palm up. “Those girls meant nothing. I was running from the pain. Everything I did was my way of running. Even buying Jake the Integra.”

  There was silence between them for a moment, and Abby drew a quiet breath. “May I say something?”

  “Please.” Tim was quick to answer. “That’s why we came.”

  Abby looked at John, silently asking him if it was okay to share the details of their situation. The peace in his eyes told her that he would have it no other way. She smiled and then shifted her gaze to Tara.

  “When John and I were having trouble, he spent time with one of the teachers at school. She doesn’t work there anymore, and her name isn’t important. The thing is, it made me mad. Jealous, really. She was younger than I was, more professional. I figured I couldn’t compete with her, didn’t want to compete with her. I still felt angry and jealous even after John began doing everything he could to make things right between us.”

  Tara nodded. “Exactly.”

  “The thing I had to learn was this: Sometimes love makes a mistake. Even a series of mistakes. When I married John, I promised to love him in good times and bad. No matter what happened.” Abby kept her voice tender, but let her passion show, too. A passion she hoped Tara would hear. “John wanted to make things right between us, but I wasn’t willing to forgive him. And you know what? At that point he wasn’t the one breaking our wedding vows—I was. I refused to trust him, even after he’d told me time and again that he hadn’t had an affair. I wanted to punish him for even finding another woman attractive, for befriending her and being tempted by her. And because of that I could justify treating him—” she searched for the right word—“cruelly. Because my feelings had been hurt and I thought he deserved it.”

  A quiet settled over them again. John looked at Tim. “Of course, I didn’t understand any of that. I just figured she wasn’t capable of forgiving me.”

  There
were tears in Tara’s eyes and she dabbed at them discretely. “How . . . how did you get past it?”

  “Memories.” John sat back, his eyes only semifocused. “Our divorce plans ran right along the same time frame as Nicole’s engagement. It was wedding dresses this, and churches that, and what about our vows, Daddy . . .” He shook his head. “What else could we do but remember how it had been for us twenty years earlier.”

  “How we fell in love as kids and how magical it was when we first got married.” Abby smiled. “Even then it wasn’t easy.”

  “The memories came at us separately.” John gave a sad chuckle. “Neither of us knew how to approach the other about them, and because of that, we were ready to go ahead with our plans.”

  “What stopped you?” Another tear spilled onto Tara’s cheek.

  “God.” John and Abby said the answer at the same time and then looked at each other and grinned. John shot a pointed look at Tim. “God might as well have sent us a telegram.” John deepened his voice. “‘John and Abby Reynolds . . . do NOT get divorced. I made you for each other . . . forgive and forget . . . and move on in the joyful life I have for you.’”

  Abby met Tara’s eyes. “Do you ever feel that way, Tara? Like God wants you to let go of the hurt and anger and simply love each other?”

  “All the time.”

  “Then why haven’t you done it?”

  “Because. I’m afraid it’ll happen again.” She looked at Tim. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, but when you left me, I hated you. And . . . and I swore you’d never break my heart like you did before. Even if you begged me to come back.”

  “The problem—” John’s voice was gentle once more—“is one that’s gotten mankind into trouble since the beginning.”

  “Which problem?” Tim wrung his hands.

  “Pride.” John smiled. “It’s why Adam and Eve took the apple— because they thought they were smarter than God. They wanted to be like God. And it’s why good couples—loving couples like the two of you or Abby and me—start going in different directions and wind up believing divorce is the only solution.” He took Abby’s hand. “When really, the only solution is to grab tight to each other, forgive, and go on.”