Breathe…you have to breathe.
She ordered herself to inhale, but nothing about the process seemed to be working. Ashley sat straight in her seat, and her gaze darted down the aisle toward the nearest exit. She had to get off, had to get a mouthful of fresh air or she’d suffocate.
But it was too late. Already the doors were shut, and the flight attendants were talking about the safety features of the plane and oxygen masks dropping if a change of pressure occurred. For a crazy moment, Ashley considered tearing at the paneling above her head, grabbing the oxygen mask, and gulping mouthfuls before she passed out.
Breathe. Get a breath. Hurry!
She sucked in, but the cabin seemed filled with something thick and stale that stuck in her throat. She knew what was happening. Her lungs were no longer capable of taking in air. Panic tightened its grip, and she clutched at the armrests on each side of her seat. “Help me.” The whispered words were lost in the hum of blowing air and jet engine sounds. “God…help.”
Her body was taking her straight into a panic attack, one that threatened to send her to her feet, running down the aisle, clawing at the exit doors.
“God…” She closed her eyes and the dizziness worsened. The jet engines roared now, and the plane began to taxi down the runway. Faster…faster…faster…
I can’t breathe. Her words were silent now because she was out of air. God, I have to get off. I’m going to die.
Suddenly a memory flashed in her mind. She’d had panic attacks before. Back when she was twelve years old, the year she entered junior high and realized she wasn’t gossipy and giggly like the other girls. The year they cut her out of their social circle and moved on without her.
She’d be lying in bed, and without warning her heart would leap into her throat. Her temples would pound, and she’d feel like she couldn’t breathe. The same way she felt now.
Ashley took in three quick gasps, none of them meeting her need for oxygen. The picture of herself as a girl developed some. Scared to death, she always ran to her father, and he would talk her back to a place of sanity.
The rushing in her temples grew fuller as she struggled to make sense of her thoughts. What was it her father told her? Breathe out. Her lungs felt as heavy as lead, stiff and unwilling to cooperate. The plane was lifting into the air, making her crazy with the need to get off the plane.
She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and blew out. A whisper of air left her mouth, but the feel of it reassured her enough to keep her seated.
She opened her eyes and stared at her hands. Again she blew out. Again and again, all without even trying to draw a breath. Another infusion of calm filled her veins. Understanding dawned—she’d been hyperventilating. Of course. In the panic of the moment, of the terrifying truths about her life, she panicked and sucked in air without letting any out.
What else had her father told her? Breathe in through her nose. Slow and easy, through her nose. She widened her nostrils, sucked in a small bit of air, and felt her lungs respond.
Once more she brought her lips together and blew out, longer this time. Slower. After ten minutes, she felt her body regain control. But not her mind, not her heart and soul. She was HIV-positive. The more the words ran through her head, the more their meaning sank in, leaving her sick and defeated. At least the panic attack had passed, and though her fingers still trembled, she could breathe again. She was no longer desperate to get off the plane.
God, give me something to hang on to.
Ashley looked out the window and squinted at the brilliant blue reflecting against the upper side of a field of puffy cumulus clouds. No answers flashed in her heart, but rather a knowing. God had promised that he knew the plans for her life, good plans. Maybe not the plans she’d had for herself, but good plans all the same. Whatever happened.
In the past few days she’d researched HIV on the Internet. What she’d found was more encouraging than she’d expected. Positive test results were no longer a death sentence. Doctors could help people now—the basketball star Magic Johnson had taught them that much.
A statistic on-line caught her eye the other day in light of the awful waiting period she’d just survived: 10 percent of those infected with HIV would get AIDS, and 10 percent of those who developed AIDS would die because of the virus. And the medicine cost less than ever before—a few hundred dollars a year.
Whatever it cost, whatever it did to her lifestyle, she would fight to stay healthy and well. For Cole. He needed to be tested, of course, though she’d read on one of the Web sites that if he had the virus, doctors would’ve discovered it when he was born.
Still, she wanted to be sure.
The life she and Cole shared was all she had now, because involving Landon in such a nightmare was something she simply wouldn’t do. Marrying him would involve a physical relationship, which would always hold the risk that he would somehow become infected. She’d always believed he deserved someone better than her, and that was never more true than it was now.
Ashley blinked and breathed out again. The panic was gone, but in its place was a sorrow deeper than the ocean. A long time ago Kari told her something about love, a definition that had stayed with Ashley: “Love is a decision.” A decision that sometimes meant making hard choices. That was certainly true now.
She loved Landon. Saying good-bye to him would be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
She’d go to New York and meet with him. She’d tell him about her test results, apologize, and insist they break off their relationship. She’d tell him good-bye, even if it killed her, and then she’d take her paintings to the gallery and explain that because of personal reasons she could no longer have a showing in the fall.
All of that lay ahead of her when she arrived at La Guardia.
Suddenly she was no longer desperate to get off the plane. Rather she wished she could stay on it forever.
The moment Ashley walked off the plane Landon knew something wasn’t right.
She came to him, hugged him. Even kissed him, but not the way she’d kissed him when she left. When he asked her about it, she shrugged off her lack of energy and blamed it on being overtired. They shared a quick lunch, and then he rode with her to her hotel.
He’d expected her to have a glass of iced tea with him at one of the cafes in the lobby. But instead she begged off, explained she needed to spend time with her work, catch up on her sleep, prepare for her meeting with the gallery owners the next day.
Before she headed to her room, she showed him the new pieces. They were breathtaking, each of them. Landon could hardly believe it had come to this, that her work was being featured in a Manhattan gallery, and that the gallery owners had completely fallen in love with her.
Not that he could blame them.
The night passed slowly, as did the day.
Just before seven o’clock on Friday night, Landon positioned himself at the center of the Hyatt lobby near a standing floral arrangement and locked his eyes on the bank of elevators. The gallery was walking distance from the hotel, and the owners had put Ashley up here this time. Last night when he and Ashley discussed tonight’s dinner, they’d agreed that the hotel restaurant made the most sense.
Besides, it was across the street from Central Park.
If things went the way he expected, he had plans for after dinner. A romantic walk south through the park to the place where horse-drawn carriages lined the street. Together they’d snuggle in the back of a carriage and spend an hour seeing the park by moonlight, talking about their wedding plans, and dreaming of a future together.
A future Landon had all but given up on just a year ago.
He glanced at his watch and shifted his weight. The occasion warranted something new, so he’d bought a pair of black dress slacks and a short-sleeved, pale blue, button-down shirt at a shop on Fifth Avenue.
The ring was in his pocket.
His thoughts ran a hundred miles an hour while he kept his eyes glued to the elevators. M
aybe they’d settle in New York after all. Fighting fires for the FDNY had gotten into his blood, just the way Jalen said it would. He was healing from the loss of his friend, a little more each day. Twice during the past week he’d taken a call, rolled on it, helped put out a fire, and handled the cleanup without ever once imagining that he was doing the work in Jalen’s honor, keeping Jalen’s memory alive.
No, more often lately he was working for himself, savoring the rush, enjoying making a difference in a city of seven million people. A city in desperate need of firefighters. Where every call could mean life or death. And now that he’d been offered a lieutenant’s position…
A future in New York City seemed to have God’s fingerprints all over it.
One of the elevator doors opened, and Ashley stepped out. The sight of her made him gasp just a bit. Her outfit, a sleeveless gray top and black pants, was silky and moved with her. She was striking, and people around her took a second look as she passed. The guys at the fire station thought she looked like Winona Ryder, and she did. But something in her eyes was deeper, more loving than any starlet’s.
She saw him and smiled, clutching a small bag to her side, making her way closer. He reached into his pocket and felt the velvet box. God, bless this night. Make it special so the two of us will remember it forever.
When she reached him, she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Hi.” She pulled back and smiled.
“Hi.” He caught something in her expression—regret, maybe, or fear. But just as quickly it was gone, and he dismissed the idea. He put his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “So tell me what happened.”
“Today? At the gallery?” Her eyes shone, but something tired remained in her expression. “It went great. They loved the new pieces.”
“And you promised them three more in a few weeks, right?”
There it was again—something strange in her eyes, something he was certain he’d seen. A sorrow, almost. But what could she possibly be sad about? Her life was playing out like some kind of magical dream.
When she said nothing, he angled his head. “You aren’t waiting until fall, are you?”
She bit her lip and let her gaze fall to his chest. “I’m not sure.”
“Hey—” he lifted her chin with his fingertips—“you have to come back sooner.” The feel of her in his arms was intoxicating. He leaned closer and kissed her, slowly, with a passion that went way beyond desire. “I missed you, Ash.”
“Me, too.” Her eyes closed, and this time she moved her lips over his. The contact was brief, but it let him know for certain that she loved him the way he loved her.
He drew back and studied her. “You look beautiful.”
“And you.” Her voice was breathy, and she raised an eyebrow as she took in his new outfit. “Nice.”
“Thanks.” He grinned and pointed to the restaurant. “I made reservations.”
His hand found hers, and he led the way across the lobby. The place was dimly lit, with candles and linen cloths on each table. A maître d’ led them to a high-backed leather booth in a quiet corner, several spots from the place where a pianist was playing a slow Lionel Ritchie number.
They sat across from each other and looked at their menus. Landon was too excited to eat, but he didn’t want to give away the surprise. He scanned the items and then looked up and caught Ashley’s eye. “Hungry?”
For a moment, it looked as though she might shake her head, but then she nodded. “Sure.”
Throughout dinner they talked about the gallery and the break in the humidity, which had made for gorgeous Manhattan weather. Landon asked about Kari’s wedding shower, and Ashley told him every detail, how all her sisters were there and how the guests insisted Kari replay her story of meeting Ryan and falling in love with him.
“When the shower was over, the four of us sorted through Kari’s gifts and stayed up talking until after midnight.”
“That’s one thing I always knew would happen.” Landon tore off a piece of his dinner roll and popped it in his mouth.
“What?” Ashley studied him over her iced tea.
He finished chewing and swallowed. “The four of you girls would wind up being friends.” He could feel his eyes sparkling. The moment was getting closer. As soon as the waitress cleared their plates, he was going to reach for the ring.
He focused on what he’d been saying. “I remember when you thought Brooke didn’t care about you or Kari or Erin. When any of you might not have been getting along.” He felt the corners of his mouth rise. “But you Baxters have too much love to stay apart for long.”
“That’s why the Luke thing is killing us.” She narrowed her eyes. “All of us.”
Landon reached his hand across the table and took hold of her fingers. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”
She ran her thumb over his and looked deep into his eyes. “What?”
Again he sensed a heaviness there. Something wasn’t right. But soon things would be better than they’d ever been for either of them. Then the strange fleeting sadness would be gone from Ashley’s eyes for good.
He forced himself to concentrate. “Reagan’s going to call Luke.” Landon hesitated. “He’ll go to her, and they’ll fall in love all over again. Then he’ll return to your parents and make everything right. He and Reagan and their son.”
She smiled. “Sounds very storybook.”
“That’s the thing about the Baxter family.” Landon gave a light chuckle. “No matter where life takes a strange twist or turn, the final chapter always works out.” He hesitated. “Look at Maddie.”
“Yes.” Ashley brought his fingers to her lips and kissed them. Her eyes never left his. “It always works out, but not always how everyone thinks it will.”
Landon blinked. Why did he have the feeling they were talking in riddles? He kept his fingers woven together with hers and told her about his time with Reagan. “This time I think it will, Ash. Not the way they’re worried it might, but the way everyone thought it would a year ago.”
The waitress cleared their plates, and they turned down dessert. When they were alone, Landon eased his hand from hers and slid it into his pocket. For a long time he stayed that way, his hand wrapped around the tiny velvet box, his eyes captured by hers.
When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with an emotion deeper, different than any he’d ever known before. “Ashley, I have something to ask you.”
Then, as her mouth fell open and before she could say another word, he slipped the velvet box from his pocket and placed it on the table where they could both see it. Even in the warmth of the candlelight, Landon could see the blood drain from Ashley’s face, see her expression go from shock to dismay to something that looked like sheer terror. And for the first time since he’d had the ring made, Landon considered something he’d never even fathomed before.
What if she said no?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EVENING, Ashley had kept her composure.
When she stepped off the elevator and took in the sight of Landon, all six-foot-four inches looking like he belonged on the cover of a calendar. When she came near and breathed in his cologne and the faint mint of his breath. A moment later when they kissed. She’d even remained calm throughout dinner, when she knew her announcement was coming, that they had less than an hour to share together this way. Less than an hour.
For all time.
Through all of it she kept herself from breaking down, forced herself to enjoy the evening with him since it would be her last. But when he brought out the velvet box, the ground beneath their table tilted wildly out of control. Her cheeks flashed hot, and then she felt the blood drain from her face and neck.
“Landon…” His name came out as a faint cry, a plea for help. She stared at the velvet box and shook her head. “What…are you doing?”
Disappointment splashed across his features, and she hated herself for ruining this night. Along with everythi
ng else her positive blood test would take from her in the years to come, it wanted this night first. This moment.
“Ashley, I…”
His voice faded, and he brought his lips together. Instead of talking, he opened the box and held it up so she could see what lay inside. Her breath gathered in her throat and stayed there. It was a ring—an engagement ring. A solitaire surrounded by three smaller diamonds on each side, all set in the most brilliant white gold she’d ever seen.
She reached out and let her fingertips play over the top of the stones, and almost without realizing it she began to shake her head. Her eyes lifted to Landon’s, and she hated the pain she saw there, the raw mix of confusion and anger and frustration.
Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks before she could stop them. “Landon, I can’t…”
He stood then, holding the box, and slid around the table to the seat next to her. “Ashley, I haven’t even asked you.” His voice was a strained whisper, racked with questions he must’ve been afraid to ask. He set the box on the table and took her face in his hands. “I’ve been planning this for months.” He swallowed, but still his tone was tight, almost desperate. “Last time we talked I told you we should get married and you…you seemed okay with it.”
“Landon…” She let her face fall forward just enough to rest in his hands. As she did her tears came harder and she closed her eyes. God, deliver me from this. I can’t bear it.
The time had come to tell him the truth.
He must’ve taken her silence for acquiescence. “Ashley, it’s okay to be nervous. Maybe it’s too soon. I just thought we could make a plan now so that when I—”
“Stop.” She opened her eyes and lifted her head from his hands. For a long while she searched his face, his expression. He had to know, before he went another moment thinking that somehow she doubted her feelings for him or that she wasn’t sure about the life they might’ve shared together. She took his hands. Her fingers eased between his, and together their hands fell to the table between them.
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