"Lauren . . . I can't believe it's you." He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

She held him tighter. "I looked for you . . . for so long . . . " She drew back and searched his eyes. "Where've you been, Shane?" Her crying grew harder, her voice the barest whisper. "I couldn't find you."

People were milling past, casting curious glances at them. Not far away Emily had righted her mother's luggage and now she was watching them, her face taken by a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Shane tucked Lauren's head in close to his chest and swayed with her, feeling himself responding to her presence. "I thought I'd lost you forever." He kissed the top of her head.

"Me too." Her voice was a mumble against his shirt. After a few seconds she took a step back and studied him. "In my dreams you looked just like this, Shane."

"You too." They had so much to catch up on. He wanted to ask her why she changed her name, and what life had done to her way of thinking now that she was a Time magazine correspondent. He needed to tell her that he was in the navy, a fighter pilot, but all that could wait. He smiled at her. "Emily found me a few days ago." He leaned sideways and flashed their daughter a grin.

She gave him a cute little wave, and he did the same.

"I asked her not to tell you." He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes. Looking into them was like getting his first drink after years in the desert. "I wanted you to be surprised."

"Surprised?" She took a few steps back and bent at the waist, bracing herself on her knees. When she looked up her expression was still filled with disbelief. "I'm surprised my heart's still beating."

He laughed and took her hands. They stood there, not quite able to get enough of each other. Finally he felt his smile fade. "You know about your parents?"

She nodded. "Daddy's sick. He might only have a few weeks to live."

"Emily told me." He motioned for their daughter to join them. When she did, he put one arm around her and one arm around Lauren. He felt a rush of joy at the way they felt against him. Lauren and Emily, both of them. The feeling was amazing, like he'd found a missing part of himself and now - finally - he was whole again. He blinked back the wetness in his eyes and gave them each a light squeeze. "Let's get back to the house."

Emily nodded. Fresh tears filled her eyes, but she smiled at both of them. They were halfway to the parking lot when Emily said, "This is it, exactly."

"This moment, you mean?" Lauren looked around him and smiled at their daughter. Shane's throat tightened. Their daughter. Their little girl. A part of each of them . . .

"Yes. When I asked God for a miracle, a picture came to my mind." Emily skipped a few steps in front of them and turned around, her arms spread wide. "This picture. Exactly this."

TWENTY-FIVE.

It was the first day Bill hadn't felt like getting out of bed.

Angela asked him a few times, suggesting that he join her at the kitchen table for hot oatmeal or later that he sit on the sofa with her and watch a movie. The kids would be there by four o'clock. It was important that he stay awake and alert.

But he had only taken her hand and looked straight to the part of her that belonged to him alone. "Everything hurts, Angie. I'm sorry."

His answer dropped her to the edge of the bed. She sat there shaking. It took awhile until she said anything. "You never told me."

"I didn't want to." He smiled and laced his fingers between hers. "I have pills if I need them. It's just that I want to be alert when the kids come." His shoulders slid up and down against the pillow. "I figured if I rested all day I could fake it a little tonight."

That was at noon. He slept most of the day and now he was up and sitting in his recliner in the family room. She studied him from the kitchen and wondered how he would look to Lauren and Shane. Older, of course. But he was thin now, much thinner than before. His face was gaunt and the cancer had left his complexion ashy gray. He was cold too. No matter how high she kept the thermostat, he needed a blanket across his legs. Tonight he was using two - both of them extra thick.

Still, with all the changes and the pain he was in, his eyes glowed as he looked at her. "Any minute!"

"Yes." All their searching and praying and wanting their daughter had come to this. Lauren and Shane together again in the same room. With their daughter. And with them.

Part of her was so excited she could barely put the apple pie in the oven. But another part of her was terrified because she and Bill were at least partly responsible for separating them. If only Bill had asked the phone company to leave forwarding information on the recording connected to their old number. It was something he regretted every day. She wasn't about to bring it up now.

Once the pie was set, she poured the two of them coffee and joined him in the family room. She took the chair she liked best - the one closest to him. Just as she sat down, she heard a car, and after a few minutes, the sound of Emily's voice. Angela closed her eyes and reached for her husband's foot. "Father God, be here tonight."

She expected them to ring the doorbell, then realized Emily would never do such a thing. So she wasn't surprised when she heard the group come into the entryway, and after a bit of hushed conversation, she heard Emily's voice heading up the stairs with what must've been Shane. Angela stood and waited, her heart barely beating. Were Emily and Shane giving them this time alone with Lauren? It was something she had wanted, but never voiced. There was silence in the entryway for a few seconds, and then the sound of heels on the tile floor.

And suddenly - there she was. Standing before them, like something from a dream.

"Lauren . . . " Tears blurred Angela's vision and a sob caught in her throat. She was afraid to move or cry or say the wrong thing.

Lauren blinked and tears slid down her cheeks. Their eyes locked and she massaged her throat. "Mom . . . " Her eyes shifted to Bill. "Dad . . . "

Angela couldn't wait. She crossed the room, and carefully, as if her daughter might break, she took Lauren into her arms. With one hand on the back of Lauren's head and the other pressed to the small of her daughter's waist, Angela cradled her the way she'd done when Lauren was little, when she'd come home from kindergarten with a skinned knee.

Only this time she and Bill had caused her daughter's pain. And it went far deeper than any childhood scrape. "I'm so sorry, honey." She muttered the words against the side of Lauren's face. "I've spent my life being sorry."

Lauren felt stiff at first, as if the awkwardness of the moment kept her from giving in to her emotions. But as they embraced, Angela felt her daughter letting go, felt the sobs shaking her slight frame. "I'm . . . I'm sorry too."

When their tears slowed some, Lauren took a step back and turned toward Bill. Angela watched them. God . . . You did this. You brought her home while we still had a chance to be together. All of us, the way we should've been from the beginning.

"Daddy, how are you?" She reached the edge of his chair and he held his hand out to her. She took it and leaned closer, hugging him for what seemed like a minute. She eased onto her knees, bringing them face-to-face. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head and brought his hand up along her face. "Not anymore." With his other hand, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "We were wrong, Lauren. I'm so, so sorry, baby."

Angela felt her composure slipping. He was a strong man, Bill Anderson. Strong and intelligent and not given easily to shows of emotion. At least, not before Lauren left. When she didn't come back and they couldn't find her, she'd watched him change. What he'd done by leaving their forwarding information off the recording, he'd done in love. He loved Lauren and would've gone to any lengths to protect her. It was that protective instinct of his that longed for Lauren with every passing hour. She was his little girl, and in some ways he hadn't been complete until just this minute. With her safely in his arms again.

Lauren looked weak as she struggled to her feet. The day had been an emotional one for all of them. She wiped her cheeks with her knuckles and looked at Angela and then Bill. Her eyes settled on Bill. "I'm the one who left." She lifted her chin a few inches. "I thought Emily was dead and I panicked. I never . . . " Her voice cracked and she held on to the back of Bill's chair for support. "I never should've gone without saying good-bye." Her expression was a twisted mass of sorrow and regret. "Forgive me . . . please?"

She dropped to the arm of Bill's chair and put her arm around him, leaning close and letting her head rest against his. "I missed you, Daddy." She looked up and turned the other way. "You too, Mom. How did so many years get away from us?"

Angela came to them, and the three formed a hug full of hope and promise and second chances. There was no talk about Shane, but Angela knew that would come. They couldn't move too far ahead without first letting go of the past.

Lauren lifted her head and looked at Bill again. "I'm sorry . . . about the cancer."

"I didn't ask God to make me better." His voice was hoarse, barely understandable. He framed her face with his fingers again. "I only asked him to bring you home."

The three of them talked in whispered tones before Angela found a box of tissues and passed them out. Lauren took one and stood. "Can Shane come in now? He wants to see you."

Angela felt like the worst person in the world. He was really there, the charming young man who had loved her daughter with such devotion, the kid who had purchased a wedding ring and asked Lauren to marry him so they wouldn't be torn apart. He had come, even though she and Bill had acted to keep them separate from each other.

"Yes, Lauren. Bring him in."

She left the room, and Angela turned to Bill. "Can you believe it? She's really home."

"She's beautiful." He sat up a little and pulled the blankets higher on his lap. "But her eyes aren't what they were. Do you see it?"

Angela hadn't wanted to admit that. To do some ant taking blame for even more damage. But Bill was right. "I see it. I think it has to do with her faith."

"Does she . . . have faith?" He winced, as if the pain of thinking such a thing was worse than anything the cancer was doing to him.

"I don't know." She took hold of his shoulder. "I can only believe that with the miracles God has brought about in the last few weeks, He won't stop short of that one."

Bill nodded, and as he did, they heard footsteps in the entry again. This time all three of them filed into the family room, with Shane leading the way.

He smiled and came to them, giving Bill a firm handshake. "Mr. Anderson, it's good to see you." Then he turned to her. "Mrs. Anderson." He released Bill's hand and hugged her. It wasn't the hug they'd received from Lauren, but it was one that spoke forgiveness. Whatever Shane Galanter had once held against them, those feelings were no longer a part of him.

"Shane." Bill coughed and held his hand out to Shane once more.

"Yes, sir?" The handshake held.

"My wife and I owe you an apology." Bill's eyes had been dry until now. But here, with Lauren and Emily standing a few feet away arm in arm, and all of them gathered together for the first time, tears welled up and trickled down his leathery cheeks.

"It's over with, sir." Shane kept hold of Bill's hand. "God made it clear to me a long time ago that we can't go back." He looked over his shoulder at Lauren and Emily, and then at Bill once more. "We can only be glad for today."

"Something else." He rubbed at his throat, his voice raspy. "I understand you're a captain in the navy, a fighter pilot, is that right?"

Angela watched Lauren's expression change. She looked down at the floor, but only for a minute.

"Yes, sir. I train fighter pilots at the Top Gun facility in Reno, Nevada."

"Well, then, I have to tell you - " Bill gripped Shane's hand harder than before - "I couldn't be prouder of you if you were my own son."

Again a shadow passed over Lauren's eyes, and Angela felt a strong prompting to pray. What is it, God? Does she disapprove of Shane's job? With Shane and Bill discussing the navy, and Emily grinning, talking about how her dad was going to take her up in an F 16, it hit Angela. Of course Lauren had a problem with Shane's job.

She'd been covering the war for Time magazine for the past two years. Her political views and Shane's would be at polar ends of the spectrum by now. What if Lauren found all of them too conservative, their faith too upfront? What if she stayed for only a few days and then ran away again, certain she could never belong? Fear wanted a place in the midst of their group, but Angela wouldn't allow it.

God, this is Your territory. The years might've changed Lauren, but that's okay. She's entitled to her opinion - whatever that opinion is. She settled her gaze on Lauren, aching to go to her and hold her again, her only daughter. Instead she finished her prayer. Father, let her feel Your love this week. I know I'm asking for a lot, God, but please use this time to stir in her the faith we share with Emily and Shane. Please . . .

Even as her prayer ended, she felt a deep uneasiness, a sorrow that their decisions twenty years ago had pushed Lauren far away, not only from them, but from God. The Lord had been so good to them in the years since Lauren left. The tragedy of losing her, of raising Emily without her parents had turned them to a deep, life-sustaining faith. From what Emily told them, in his pain and loneliness, Shane had found a relationship with Christ also.

Now she would pray with every breath that one day soon the same would be true for Lauren.

TWENTY-SIX.

Lauren had been waiting for this moment all day. Waiting for it and dreading it all at the same time. She and Shane were about to be alone for the first time in two decades.

The night had been amazing. All five of them had talked and cried and told funny stories about the years they'd missed until finally her dad was too tired to last another minute. Her mother walked him to their room, and Emily stayed up talking with Lauren and Shane until just a few minutes ago. After so many years, none of them could get enough of each other.

Now it was after midnight, and she and Shane and Emily were heading upstairs to tell Emily good night.

"Can I ask you something?" A smile played on Emily's lips, as they reached the top of the stairs and she looked at the two of them standing together. "I always used to wonder what it would be like to have my parents tuck me in. You know, like other kids." Her eyes were dry, but her tone rang with sincerity. "Would you do that? Please?"

Lauren's heart sang. She felt honored her daughter would even ask. Emily was no longer a child, after all. How wonderful that she didn't feel too old to still be a kid around them. She tugged on Emily's sweater sleeve. "You lead the way."

And so the three of them trucked down the hall to Emily's room, Lauren and Shane a few steps behind. Shane held her hand, and the sensation stirred countless emotions in her. How often had she dreamed of this, the normalcy of such a moment? That she and Shane might be heading upstairs to bid their daughter good night, the way real families did.

Emily slipped into her bathroom to put on her pajamas, leaving Lauren and Shane standing near the doorway. He slid his arms around her waist, and she let him draw her close. No matter how long she looked at him, she couldn't get enough. It was as though they'd never been apart. All evening they'd sat close together, and she could hardly think for the way Shane's fingers felt linked with hers.

It was the same way now, in his arms. She came to him willingly. Time had done nothing to dim the desire between them, that much was certain. "Can you believe we're here?" His voice was low, his breath soft against her cheek. He nuzzled his face against hers. "You feel so good, Lauren."

"I used to fall asleep each night wishing . . . " She traced her finger along his collarbone. "Wishing I'd wake up in the morning and you'd be there beside me. That we were married and together." She dragged her hand through the air beside them. "Like all this would just be a terrible nightmare."

"Mmm." He breathed in near the nape of her neck and then drew back enough to meet her eyes again. "We should've had a lifetime of that by now." He lifted his hands to her face and worked his fingers into her hairline. A low groan came from him. "It kills me to think of all we missed."

The bathroom door opened, and Shane pulled back. He took hold of Lauren's hand, but he hit the light switch and Lauren could see him grinning at both of them in the dark. "Okay, young lady, time for bed."

Emily giggled and padded past them in her socks. Then she climbed in between the covers and pulled them up near her chin. "Can you pray with me? That's part of tucking in."

Lauren shifted, but tried not to show her discomfort. She'd considered God an enemy since she got the news that Emily was dead, since she'd driven away from Chicago that terrible day. Faith belonged to the rest of them, not her. It wasn't something she wanted, either. If there was a God, He had let them lose a lifetime together. Why Emily and Shane cared for such a God, she didn't understand.

Still she wasn't about to resist. This wasn't a debate on theology. She let Shane lead her to the side of Emily's bed. Suddenly the full extent of what was happening hit her square in the heart. She was saying good night to her daughter - the baby girl she'd thought was dead! She was sitting next to her in a dark room, getting one of her first chances to be Emily's mom. She sat on the edge of the mattress and ran her fingers through Emily's bangs. Next to her Shane's quiet voice rang out clear and confident, full of a faith Lauren had stopped believing in years ago.

"Dear God, we're here tonight because You allow edit." He drew a deep breath. "I thought I'd live my life never finding either of these two, but You - You brought us together. We pray Emily will sleep well, and that tomorrow we'll all wake up and find that it's really happening, that it's not just a wonderful dream." He hesitated, and his tone grew heavier. "Help us not to be angry or sad over all we've lost. But help us celebrate what You've given us today. In Jesus' name, amen."

Shane leaned down and kissed Emily on the cheek. "Good night, Emily." He tapped the tip of her nose. "Thank you."

She smiled, and the little girl she must've been shone in her eyes. "For what?"

"For letting God use you." He stood and headed for the doorway.

It was Lauren's turn. She looked down at Emily and once more brushed her thumb across her daughter's forehead. "I remember the last time I did this."

"At the hospital?" Emily rolled onto her side so they could see each other better.

"Mmm-hmm. You were so sick, so hot. I sat there next to your bed and I did this. I touched your forehead, begging God to let you live, to bring you back to me."

Emily searched her eyes. "Don't you see, Mom?"

"See what?"

"He answered your prayers." She gave a little shrug. "Here we are, just like you asked."

A lump lodged in her throat, but her words found their way around it. "I like your attitude, Miss Emily. I'm proud to be your mother." She leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Then she whispered, "Good night, sweet daughter. I love you." The words felt wonderful on her lips. "I can't say it enough."

"Love you too."

Shane was waiting for her out in the hallway. Without saying a word he eased his fingers between hers again and led her back down the stairs to the living room. Gentle flames danced in the fireplace, and through the oversized picture window it was snowing.