CHAPTER ONE

ELIZABETH BAXTER found the lump on March 7.

She was in the shower, and at first she brushed past it, figured it to be nothing more than a bit of fatty tissue or a knotted muscle or maybe even a figment of her imagination. But then she went over it with her fingertips again and again. And once more, until she knew.

No question—it was a lump.

And a lump of any kind meant getting an immediate check. This was a road she'd traveled before. If a breast-cancer survivor knew one thing it was the importance of self-checks. She stopped the water, dried off, and called her doctor while still wrapped in a towel.

The mammogram came three days later, and a biopsy was performed the day after that. Now, on a brilliantly sunny morning in mid-March, in the private office of Dr. Marc Steinman, Elizabeth sat stiff and straight next to John as they waited for the doctor to bring the results.

"It's bad; I know it is." Elizabeth leaned a few inches to the side and whispered, "He wouldn't have called us in if it wasn't bad."

John did a soft sigh and met her eyes. "You don't know that. It's probably nothing." But his tone lacked the usual confidence, and something wild and fearful flashed in his eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand. "It's nothing."

Elizabeth stared straight ahead. The wall held an oversized, framed and matted print of a pair of mallard ducks cutting a path across a glassy lake. No, God, please…not more cancer. Please. She closed her eyes and the ducks disappeared.

A parade of recent memories marched across her heart. Ashley and Luke sitting side by side at Luke and Reagan's wedding reception, reconnected after so many years apart; Kari and Ryan exchanging vows at a wedding in the Baxter backyard; little Jessie taking her first steps; Maddie and Hayley holding hands for the first time after Hayley's drowning accident.

They need me, God…they still need me. I still need them. Please, God…no more cancer.

Footsteps sounded in the hall outside, and Elizabeth's eyes flew open. "Help me, John." Her voice was pinched, panicked.

"It's okay." John leaned closer, letting her rest on him. "It'll be okay."

The doctor entered the room, a file clutched beneath his arm. He stopped, nodded, and sat at the desk opposite them. "Thanks for coming." He opened the folder and pulled out the top sheet of paper. His eyes met first John's, then Elizabeth's. "I have the results of your biopsy."

A pause followed, and John cleared his throat. "She's fine, right?" John's tone sounded forced, unnatural.

The doctor opened his mouth, but Elizabeth already knew. She knew the news would be bad, and in that instant she couldn't think about surgery or radiation or how sick she was bound to get. Neither could she think the unthinkable—about regrets or do-overs or things she wished she hadn't done. Instead only one question consumed her soul.

How in the world would her family live without her?

The idea of meeting with the birth mother gave Erin Hogan a bad feeling from the beginning.

Their adoption attorney had warned them against it, but with four weeks until their baby daughter's birth, Erin couldn't tell the woman no. Sam agreed. Whatever the outcome, they would meet the birth mother, hear what she had to say, and pray that nothing—absolutely nothing—would damage the dream of bringing home their daughter.

The meeting was set to take place in thirty minutes at a small park not far from Erin and Sam's Austin home, where they would spend an hour with the birth mother, Candy Santana, and her two children.

On the way out the door that day Erin's stomach hurt. "Sam?" She paused near the nursery door and gazed in.

"I know." He stopped at her side and ran his fingers over her arms. "You're worried."

Copyright © 2004 by The Smalley Publishing Group, LLC, and Karen Kingsbury.