Reunion

by Karen Kingsbury; Karen Kingsbury

  “That’s right.” He held out his arms. “Come here, Cole. I want to tell you something.”

  Cole slid his chair back and ran to Landon, jumping into his arms and letting Landon lift him up high the way he’d done when Cole was little. “So what’s your ’nouncement?”

  “We, uh . . .” He’d smiled at Ashley, a smile that told her even though they were venturing into uncharted waters, he would never change his mind, never wish he’d walked away to find someone who wasn’t sick. He turned back to Cole, aware that the rest of the family seated at the table was watching. “Cole, I’ve asked your mommy to marry me, and she’s said yes.”

  A gasp came from Cole. “Really?” The only thing wider than his eyes was his smile.

  “Really.” Ashley leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Cole had loved Landon almost as long as she had.

  No one stayed seated at the table.

  They let out soft gasps and quiet exclamations as they left the table and surrounded Ashley and Landon and Cole.

  Cole looped his arms around Landon’s neck. “Does that mean you’ll live with us and be my daddy?”

  Landon pulled Ashley tighter, and she saw his chin quiver. “Yes, Cole. I’ll be your daddy forever.”

  Ashley’s heart had overflowed with emotions she’d never felt before. How long had Landon wanted this moment, to claim Cole as his own? She bit her lip, a stab of guilt having its way with her for the flash of a second. If she hadn’t been so stubborn they would’ve shared this moment a long time ago.

  Her mother had made it through the circle, and Ashley saw she had tears in her eyes. For a while they only looked at each other, sharing a hundred unspoken memories: Ashley’s rebellious teenage years, her shame after returning home from Paris, her efforts at keeping Landon away, her sorrow when he left for New York City, her heartache over losing Irvel. All of it played out in her mother’s eyes. Then their foreheads came together and they hugged. When her mother spoke, Ashley alone could hear her words. “It’s about time.”

  Ashley turned into the hospital parking lot, still lost in her memories. Their announcement that day felt different, more emotional than when Kari had announced her engagement to Ryan or when any other bit of good news had been shared with all the Baxters. This time the news was bittersweet. Ashley and Landon would finally be together, the way they always should’ve been together.

  But everything about their tomorrows was uncertain. Yes, Cole would have a father, and for now the two of them would have Ashley. But somewhere down the road heartache was bound to have the last word. Because of that, the emotions that day in the Baxter dining room were a mix of incomparable joy and borrowed sadness.

  When the group had drifted back to the table, Landon stayed close to Ashley. He explained that he’d quit his job with the New York Fire Department, and that he’d be starting back at the Bloomington station the following week.

  “Do we have a wedding date?” Ashley’s father raised his eyebrows, his tone hopeful.

  “Not yet.” Landon paused and Ashley heard the pain in his voice. He would’ve married her that afternoon, but Ashley wanted to wait. He looked from Ashley to the others. “We’re waiting to see what Ashley’s new doctor says, what kind of treatment she should have.” His smile was marked by determination and unshakable faith. “Sometime this summer, we hope.”

  Several weeks had passed since then, and Landon had asked several times about her test results. They weren’t being rushed this time, and the doctor had said it could take longer because the blood panel was more detailed.

  In the meantime, she and Landon and Cole had been inseparable. She was still working at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, and Landon had started back with the Bloomington Fire Department. Cole was in preschool four days a week and took his afternoon naps with his grandma at the old Baxter house.

  But every day Ashley would get off work well before dinner, pick up Cole, and stop by the station to see Landon. If he wasn’t working, they’d head for the park or down to the lake or back to Ashley’s house. Landon would wrestle with Cole, push him on the backyard swings, or chase him around the yard wearing a football helmet five sizes too small.

  At night, they’d read books with Cole and tuck him in. Sometimes Cole asked a question about the wedding—when it would happen, where it would be, whether Landon would move in with them that day or not. Landon usually pulled him into a hug and rocked him for a while, instead of answering right away. Then he’d say something like, “As soon as we have a plan, you’ll be the first to know, okay bucko?”

  Cole would be satisfied with that. The three of them would share another round of hugs and say good night.

  The most challenging times had been after Cole was asleep.

  Ashley had figured that with no sad good-byes looming over them, they’d have an easier time sticking to a reasonable curfew and avoiding temptation. But the passion and desire that had marked their visits those past few years had only intensified. They’d start watching a movie or playing a card game and that would lead to talking—deep conversations about how lonely he’d felt in New York or how he’d wanted to stick it out because that’s what his buddy Jalen would’ve done if he’d lived. As they talked, they’d move next to each other on the couch, holding hands, leaning against each other. And then the conversations would get more intimate, about the way he thought of her constantly after she left New York or about Ashley’s inability to let Landon go no matter how often she’d tried to.

  They also talked about the wedding, how Ashley wanted to be married at her family’s church and have a big reception, somewhere with a dance floor large enough for all the guests.

  But no matter what they talked about, eventually their eyes would find each other and the conversation would stall. It had been that way yesterday, hours after she’d gotten the strange test results. Cole had been in bed, and they were sitting side by side talking about something at the fire station.

  “So I went into the supply room and—” Landon stopped midsentence.

  Ashley turned so she could see him better. “Into the supply room and . . . and what?”

  A chuckle sounded in his throat. “I can’t do this, Ashley.”

  She pressed her shoulder into the sofa back and grinned, amused at the pained look on his face. “Can’t do what?”

  “Supply rooms?” He moaned and let his head fall against hers. “How can I be telling a story about supply rooms when all I want to do is kiss you?”

  She laughed and even as she was still catching her breath, he placed his hands on her face, eased her closer to him, and kissed her. It lasted a long time, and was colored by a longing that was greater than either of them.

  Of course, in the end it had been easy for Ashley to pull away, to stop before anything serious happened. Like every other time they’d wound up in this situation, a single thought of her health, of being HIV-positive, and she would take a deep breath, stand, and help Landon to his feet. In an instant, disgust with her situation would replace the desire. “I’m tired, Landon.” She would smile to hide her real feelings. “Let’s call it a night.”

  No matter how badly she wanted to lie in his arms and give way to the feelings he stirred inside her, she wouldn’t put him at risk. Maybe her doctor would give her safe ways to be intimate with him. If so, she’d explore those after they were married. For now, she loved him too much to let their kissing get out of hand.

  She was out of her car now, and a cool breeze lifted her pants legs and played around her ankles. Spring in Bloomington was always like this—summer one day, winter the next, almost as if the seasons were battling to see which would win out.

  Her hands trembled, and her heart beat faster than before. But she wasn’t afraid. In the next hour she’d know more about her future than she had in all her years combined.

  She made her way inside and smiled at a woman behind the information desk. “I’m looking for Dr. Dillon’s office. He said he’d be here today.”

  The woma
n directed her to the third floor, and five minutes later Ashley found the door with his name on it. Holding her breath, she knocked. Every heartbeat seemed to shout the same thing over and over at her: Soon, Ashley . . . soon, Ashley . . . soon, Ashley.

  She’d have all the answers soon.

  The door opened and Dr. Dillon smiled at her. “Come in.” He ushered her to a chair in front of a big desk, and he took the one behind it. “You said you wanted to talk about your results?”

  Ashley pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse, opened it, and read the results one more time. Then she pointed to the line near the bottom that read “HIV.” “Right here, Doctor. Could you . . . could you explain this to me?”

  A grin spread the width of the man’s face. “It says negative, Ashley. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  Heat filled her cheeks, and she gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m HIV-positive, Dr. Dillon. You know that. I showed you my last test and you told me—” she grabbed a quick bit of air—“you told me the other lab had done the test twice. Just to be sure, and so we did these tests at your office to see how close I was to getting AIDS, and now I get this—”

  “Ashley . . .” The doctor held up his hand, his eyes dancing with joy, his smile gentle and sympathetic. “You don’t have HIV. The test I had them do takes longer because it’s much more detailed. I trust it completely.” He leaned back and tossed his hands in the air. “You’re fine, Ashley. Perfectly fine. I contacted the lab yesterday after you called, and they verified the information you have in your hand. The test was negative.”

  Ashley’s mouth hung open, and the room began to spin. All the emotions she had held at bay since opening the test results surrounded her, filled her so she could do nothing but cover her face with her hands and let the reality sink in.

  She was HIV-negative? She didn’t have a disease lurking in her bloodstream that would make her sick and put Landon at risk and rob her of every beautiful thing she and Landon and Cole wanted for their future? She didn’t have it?

  Since taking the first HIV test, she had simply owned the truth. She’d been intimate with a promiscuous man, and now she would pay the price with her life. Her prayers, in the meantime, had been directed toward staying healthy as long as possible, and wanting someone to take care of Cole once she contracted AIDS and died. She had even asked God to give her the courage to see a doctor, to accept whatever treatments that would bring.

  But never had she prayed that the results might be wrong.

  HIV had been a life sentence, her body a prison from which she could never escape. But now . . . now the test results were the key to that prison, and the sense of freedom made her forget for a moment that Dr. Dillon was even in the room.

  God . . . did you heal me or was it negative all along? And if it was negative all along, how awful that she’d wasted a year of her life worried that she had the beginnings of a deadly disease.

  The thought blew across the canvas of her mind, and she blinked her eyes open. She could hardly be angry. It didn’t matter, really, how God had done this. He was giving her a second chance at life and there was only one thing she wanted to do.

  Sprint from the doctor’s office and find Landon.

  Instead she looked at the doctor. He was still grinning, his eyes damp. “How . . . how does something like that happen?” she asked.

  “A false positive?” The doctor leaned forward and sifted through a pile of papers on his desk. “I figured you’d ask that. I pulled together some information on false positives so you’d understand better.”

  “You mean you’ve heard of it happening before?”

  “Oh yes.” His smile faded. “The Centers for Disease Control keeps statistics on this sort of thing. Out of every ten thousand people tested for HIV, ten will show up positive. Eight of those will be false positives, and only two in ten thousand will actually have HIV.”

  The statistics hit Ashley like a brick. “What?”

  “Yes.” Dr. Dillon frowned. “It’s discouraging. Roughly 83 percent of HIV-positive tests are false.”

  “How come the public doesn’t know that?” Ashley could hear the frustration in her voice. Calm, she told herself. You’re one of the 83 percent, remember? She exhaled and folded her hands on her lap. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s tough. HIV is a very real risk; people around the world are still contracting it every day, still dying of AIDS every day. Lots of people are working to find a cure for it.” Dr. Dillon tapped the paper in front of him. “If the statistics about false positives get out, the Centers for Disease Control could lose momentum for funding. So they downplay the truth. That’s just my opinion.”

  Ashley couldn’t draw a breath. Eighty-three percent of positive HIV tests were false positives? She forced herself to concentrate. “Can’t they come up with a better test?”

  “The standard test is less expensive and takes less time. The problem is that countless conditions in a person’s body can throw the test off, cause it to show positive when in fact it’s negative. That’s why both your first tests came back positive.” He shrugged. “You might’ve had a different virus at the time, a higher level of one type of protein or mineral, or any number of other conditions that could’ve caused the false positive.”

  “So everyone who gets a false positive has to be retested—is that it?”

  “Exactly. That way the more detailed test can be performed right away, and a false positive can be ruled out.” The doctor handed her the paper with the information. “Didn’t the other hospital lab technician tell you to see your doctor right away?”

  A fresh wave of guilt smacked Ashley in the face. “Yes.” The single word felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Of course they told her that: Get a retest, see your doctor, figure out a plan. She’d known for months now what she was supposed to do. Both her father and Brooke were doctors, after all, and both of them had demanded she get in to see a specialist.

  But she hadn’t wanted to do it, hadn’t wanted to look a doctor in the face and hear him chart out what little remained of her life. Getting treatment, going in for monthly blood tests, expensive medication, all of it was more than she could think about. So she’d put off making the appointment.

  The full weight of her procrastination hit her. If she’d done as she was supposed to, she and Landon would’ve been married by now. She thought about the deadly warehouse fire he had fought in Manhattan before he made the decision to return to Bloomington. He never would’ve been there if she’d said yes to him, if she’d not been so afraid of seeing a doctor.

  A shudder worked its way through her, and she closed her eyes again. God . . . thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you.

  I know the plans I have for you, daughter . . . plans to give you a hope and a future, and not to harm you.

  The verse was her favorite, and it came softly to her now, brushing over the rough edges of her heart and bringing peace to her anxious soul.

  “Ashley? Do you need a minute alone?”

  The doctor’s voice brought her back and she looked at him. She felt like crying, but at the same time she was so happy she laughed out loud. Never mind the mistakes she’d made in the past. God was bigger than all of them, and suddenly she was filled with a kind of joy she’d never known before.

  A sense of freedom and knowing and abundant life all wrapped into one big flame that lit her up and made her feel like shouting. God had given her a second chance! She had Cole and Landon and love and life and now . . .

  She gathered her purse and the paper and shook Dr. Dillon’s hand. “If there’s nothing else, Doctor, I have to meet someone.”

  “I’d like you to come twice a year for checkups, just to keep an eye on your other blood levels. Sometimes after a false-positive HIV test we find something out of whack that needs an adjustment, but nothing serious.”

  Ashley was already halfway to the door. She nodded, thanked the doctor, and darted into the hall. When she was outside she fli
pped open her cell phone and called Landon. She glanced at her watch. Five to four. Perfect. He would be off in five minutes.

  On the second ring, she heard him pick up. He knew she was seeing the doctor today, but he had no idea about the test results. “Hey, Ash.” His tone was soft, intimate. As if not a minute’s time had passed since their kiss on the couch last night. “How was the doctor?”

  Tears flooded her eyes as she leaned against the outside wall of the hospital. “Landon . . .” Saying his name released more of the emotions building within her. She waited until the lump in her throat eased some. “Meet me at Lake Monroe. At our table, okay?”

  “Now?” Alarm sounded in his voice. “Ash, what is it? Stay there, honey. I can meet you. If this is something bad, don’t worry about—”

  “Landon.” A nervous giggle slipped out. She cleared her throat. “It’s nothing bad. I just need to see you face-to-face. I want to talk at the lake, okay?”

  He hesitated. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” She had more control now. “Lake Monroe in fifteen minutes, all right?”

  “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Five

  The ride to Lake Monroe was the longest in Landon’s life.

  Of all the situations he’d faced and survived in the past three years, something told him this would be the most memorable. Finding his friend Jalen in the rubble of the collapse of the twin towers was of course unforgettable. Working in New York City had been a rush, with countless dangers and sorrows, but still it was only a job.

  Ashley was his future, his fiancée, the only woman he’d ever loved. This afternoon she’d seen the doctor, and whatever he’d told her was big enough that she wanted somewhere special to tell him the news.

  He turned left out of the fire-station parking lot and heard her voice again in his mind. It’s nothing bad . . . nothing bad . . . nothing bad. . . .

  But what if it was? What news could the doctor possibly give her that would be dramatic enough to make her start crying the way she had when he answered the phone? He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and flexed the muscles in his jaw. God . . . nothing more, please. Not now. I want to marry her and love her and be a family with Cole. Please, God . . .