Lauren gripped her mother's arm at the news. "No . . . "

It was too soon. She hadn't had time to talk to him or find out what she'd missed for all those years. On the hardest days in the Middle East, she always believed she could go back home if she wanted to. Her daddy would always take her back. But now he would be gone, and a place in her heart would never be the same again.

Her mother was trembling, probably tired and scared and trying not to break down. A moment later Emily and Shane came up and circled their arms around the two of them.

"Is he awake?" Shane's voice rang with compassion. "I'd like to see him. Maybe pray with him."

"He is." Her mom sniffed and straightened a little. "We should all go in. He's been asking for you."

Why did she run when she did? Why didn't she at least call? Just one call and she would've found Emily and her parents. Together they might even have found Shane. Maybe she'd be writing for the Tribune and covering features or entertainment - something less life shattering than war.

She trailed the others into the room. Her heart felt like it was being dragged behind her on a chain. Had she done this to her father? Had his grief and longing and missing her all those years given him a deadly disease?

No. She couldn't think that way, not now when he needed her smiling face at his bedside. He was greeting Emily, and she watched her daughter lay her head on her grandpa's chest. "Papa, we're gonna stay here all day, okay?"

"I'm . . . sorry I'm sick." He gave her a weak smile and then looked around the room at the rest of them. "Not much of a party, huh?"

Emily nuzzled her face against his. "We don't need a party, Papa. We just need you."

Shane looked back at Lauren and motioned for her to come closer. She did so without hesitation, but her attention was still on her father and Emily, the relationship they had. Emily had told her that her dad had changed, that he wasn't the way he'd been, wasn't the man who'd hurt her so. Watching the two of them, the way her dad held Emily's hand and spoke softly to her, she knew the truth. Her daughter was right.

In some ways, it was another loss. Had she come home sooner, she would've had time to share that same sort of tender relationship with him. Emily gave him one more hug and then she stepped back. Next, Shane put his hand on Lauren's father's shoulder. "God has a plan in all this." Shane's voice was strong and compassionate, a tone that showed how much he cared and that he held no hard feelings toward the man. "Don't forget that, okay?"

Her dad looked intently at Shane. "My girls are going to need you."

"Yes." His chin trembled, but he clenched his jaw and nodded. "I know."

"Don't leave them, okay?" He glanced at the others. His eyes settled on Lauren, and she wasn't sure who his next words were directed at. "They need you . . . even if they don't think they do."

Shane reached back and took Lauren's hand. "I know, sir. I'm not going anywhere." He eased back against the wall and gave Lauren a look that melted her.

It was her turn. She came to her father's side. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, little girl."

Her eyes were dry, but a sob caught in her throat. She remembered a thousand times when she'd greeted him that way, back before she'd taken up with Shane, when he thought of her as the girl who couldn't do anything wrong. In some ways this was better. Because he certainly knew the truth. She was miles from perfect, yet his eyes told her he loved her no less. In fact he cared for her more than ever. His hand was rough against hers. Rough and dry and cold, as if death was already staking its claim on him. She leaned close and kissed his fingers. "We need more time."

"Yes." His voice was gravelly, so low it was impossible to hear him without leaning closer. "You know . . . what I'm going to tell you."

She wrinkled her nose, confused. "No, Dad." Her heart skipped a beat. Was this when he'd remind her that the whole tragedy of their lives was her fault, that she never should've slept with Shane in the first place? He wouldn't do that now, would he? She swallowed her fears. "What do you want to tell me?"

"About Shane." The words were an effort for him. "That young man has loved you forever." He took a rest and for a moment he did nothing but breathe. "He still loves you." His look grew more intense. "And you love him too, I . . . know you do."

She felt the sting of tears. She'd spent all these years forcing herself not to cry. But now, crying was as familiar as breathing. "Yes." She didn't turn around or look at Shane. She wasn't even sure he could hear them. "Shane loves me."

"Don't . . . don't let him go again. Love doesn't mean . . . seeing eye to eye on everything."

Was her father that aware of what was happening around him? Had he really known that who they'd become as adults could make her and Shane walk away from this week and close the door on their past for good? Even thinking about it hurt her, but what choice did they have? She drew a steadying breath. "Dad, I - "

"Shh." He held her hand to his cheek and winked at her. His eyes danced as they hadn't since the group of them walked into his hospital room. "Don't analyze. I'm right about this." His lungs sounded raspier than before. "You've lost so much, Lauren. Don't lose what God wants to give you now."

Lauren felt her own wisdom dissolving. He was right, wasn't he? She had lost so very much. They all had. Losing Shane now would be tragic, even if she still couldn't see a way for it to work between them. She leaned over and put her cheek against his. "Daddy!" She hugged him, wishing she still had a thousand more times to do this. "How do you still know me so well?"

"Because - " he brushed his scruffy unshaven face against hers, the way he'd done when she was little - "daddies never forget their little girls." He looked at her, leaving just enough space between them so he could search her eyes. "When I get to heaven . . . I won't forget you even then. I'll be waiting . . . for you there, believing you'll be along one day. Just like I . . . believed you'd be along one day . . . for the last eighteen years."

She couldn't talk, couldn't squeeze a single word past the emotions stuck in her throat. Instead she held him and willed life into him. He was kind and wise and gentle, and he loved her - he always had. Even when he hadn't used the best judgment in showing her, still he loved her. Now she wanted another thirty years with him. At least.

Please . . . please . . .

She didn't know who she was pleading with, but it didn't matter. She had to try. Snuggling against him, her knees ached from the awkward position, but she didn't move until there was a sound at the door. Only then did she straighten and look past the years to his tender soul. "I love you, Daddy."

He gave her hand another squeeze. "I love you, sweetheart."

At that moment, a familiar-looking couple in their late fifties or early sixties walked through the door. Lauren looked at them and frowned. She knew them from somewhere. Their eyes held the haunting look of guilt and trepidation, as if maybe they were entering a place where they weren't welcome. In a rush, Shane went to them - and in a sudden flash she understood.

Sheila and Samuel Galanter. Shane's parents. The people who had once been her parents' closest friends. The people who took Shane from her. Lauren felt her knees start to shake and she braced herself against the hospital bed. Why had they come, and what could they possibly say now? For a moment she couldn't decide whether to excuse herself from the room or stay and hear what they had to say. She looked at the floor, her heart racing, and she made up her mind. She would stay.

Whatever was about to take place, she wanted a front-row seat to see it.

Angela was trying to keep from falling to the floor.

She was standing on the other side of Bill, opposite Lauren, when first Samuel, then Sheila walked through the door. At first Angela couldn't make herself believe what she was seeing. The stress of Bill's illness, the wonder at having Shane and Lauren back, all of it was maybe making her a little loopy.

But then Shane went to them. "Mom, Dad." He hugged them one at a time and then stepped back.

Angela couldn't see Shane's face, but she had the sense he wasn't surprised. Had he called them, asked them to come? Across the room, Emily moved close to Lauren and whispered something. Lauren nodded, her face pale.

Next to Angela, Bill slid a little higher on his pillow. "I can't believe it." He looked up at her, his voice hushed. The Galanters were still talking to Shane near the door, so they couldn't hear him. Bill covered her hand with his. "Did you know about this?"

Angela shook her head. Fear and trepidation filled her. What would the four of them say after so many years, so many hurts? She kept her eyes on Bill, her whispered words shaky. "I thought I was seeing things."

The Galanters made the first move. Sheila took a few steps into the room, her eyes vulnerable and heavy with . . . could it be? Was it remorse? The beginnings of hope stirred in Angela's soul. Ten feet away now, Sheila looked at Bill, and then, after a long beat, she shifted her gaze. Angela swallowed hard as her eyes met that of her long-ago friend.

Sheila's voice broke as the first words left her lips. "I'm sorry, Angela. I was . . . so wrong."

Angela couldn't speak or move. She didn't dare draw a breath or blink until the words found her heart. Sheila was here and she was sorry? Was it really true?

"Bill, Sheila's right." Samuel took a step closer and put his hand on the foot of Bill's bed. "We - " His eyes fell, and Sheila reached for his hand. When he looked up, his eyes shone with emotion. "We were wrong. We owe you an apology."

The entire scene played out in a handful of seconds, but still, so far she and Bill hadn't said a word. Angela's eyes were full, blurring her vision. What could she say after such a long time? Shane backed up and stood next to Emily and Lauren, the three of them doing their best to blend into the background.

Samuel cleared his throat and continued. "We were wrong, how we handled the situation with our kids." He narrowed his eyes and worked the muscles in his jaw. Then he gave a solid shake of his head. "We were wrong in too many ways to count."

"We knew Shane was here." Sheila took another step toward them. She looked at Bill. "We knew you were sick. And we had to come. We've let so much time pass."

Angela hung her head for a moment. Her knees were steady, but her whole body shook. There had been years and years when she believed she'd see Lauren again, and maybe even Shane. But she never once thought she'd see this - these old friends finding a way back to the same place. She looked up and her eyes met Sheila's. "I . . . can't believe you came."

"We're so sorry." Samuel put his arm around Sheila's waist. He had been an intimidating businessman in his day, a man who neither smiled nor laughed easily. But now - if the sincerity in his eyes was any indication - he was a changed man.

Sheila held her hand out. "Forgive me, Angela . . . please."

Angela felt herself break, felt Sheila's words finally connect in her heart. Her tears fell hot and quick onto her cheeks as she held her hands out to her lost friend. "Sheila . . . of course. It wasn't just you. We were all . . . all of us were at fault." She embraced Sheila, overcome. There was no going back, no way to regain the years they'd lost, no way to undo the damage they'd done to their kids. But here now, forgiveness was happening, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

She drew back and made a sad sound. "Why were we so stubborn?"

"I don't know." Sheila sniffed and smiled through her tears. A smile that showed how deeply she meant the apology, how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them.

Angela's heart soared as the moment played out. The four of them had made a plan that separated their friendship, yes. But it had done more than that. Their actions had cost Lauren and Shane every hope of a future, of being a family with Emily. The cost was too high to measure.

Samuel worked his way toward Bill's bed. With both hands he clasped his outstretched fingers. "It's been too long, Bill."

"Yes." Bill kept his hands locked with Samuel's for a long time. Long enough to erase the differences that had brought them to this point. Bill's chin quivered as he looked up. "All that matters is you're here now. And that you understand something."

"What?" Samuel's voice was thick with feeling.

"We're every bit as sorry as you. What we did . . . " he looked the other direction at Lauren and Shane and Emily. Then he turned back to Samuel. "What we did to those kids was wrong."

"It was." Samuel looked at Lauren. "Forgive me. We . . . we didn't know what we were doing."

Angela studied Lauren, saw the doubt in her eyes and the small hesitancy in her expression. Apologies were well and good, but the things done to Lauren and Shane had changed their lives. Forgiveness would take time.

Lauren gave Samuel a stiff nod. "I know." She gave Emily a slight hug and reached out to rest her hand on Shane's shoulder. "We all would do things differently if we had another chance."

Lauren couldn't believe her eyes. She was still processing the scene playing out in the hospital room, and now Shane's father had apologized. Next to her, Emily leaned closer. "Another miracle," she whispered. "I prayed for this too."

But Lauren wasn't sure. How was it a miracle that the people who had separated her and Shane were here now? This was a private moment, her last few hours with her dad. She wanted to tell the Galanters to leave and come back in a year or so. When she'd had time to process everything that was happening.

All around her the apologies continued, and after a few minutes the two older couples found their way again, the way long lost friends do. Even when their differences had cost them half a lifetime, even when Lauren wasn't sure she liked the idea.

Throughout the day she and Emily and Shane stayed close, walking down to the cafeteria together at lunch time and giving the friends time to catch up. For two days they stayed almost constantly around her father's bed, the sweet, tender moments with him marred only by the occasional update from the doctors that there was nothing they could do. He didn't have long. There was talk about him going home, but the decision was made that it would be too painful to move him.

He was comfortable in the hospital, the pain medication flowing through his IV at just the right rate to allow him conversations with her and Shane and Emily, with the Galanters, and especially with her mother. Once, sometime Monday afternoon, Lauren and Shane spent an hour in the cafeteria alone. Their conversations had been so consumed with her father that they hadn't talked much about each other.

"So . . . " Shane sat across from her and covered her hands with his.

She knew what he meant, the way she'd always known. Their flights were scheduled to leave later that week, and they still hadn't found any answers. None that made sense, anyway. Her eyes held his. "Us, you mean?"

He wrapped his fingers around her hands. "I heard what your dad told you yesterday morning."

"I wondered." Her heart ached just looking at him. His eyes held a depth that took her breath away. He was conservative, a military guy with a fierce support for the war, but he didn't seem like any warmonger she'd ever written about. And how was that? Navy captains weren't supposed to have feelings like this, were they? Still, what was she supposed to say? That she'd move to Reno, Nevada, of all places? Settle down some where outside Fallon Naval Base and get excited about the fact that he was training the next generation of fighter pilots? She looked down at the place where their fingers came together. Maybe if she said nothing, they could sit like this forever, holding hands and pretending things were exactly the way they'd been when they were kids.

He tried again. "Can I go on record saying I agree with him?" His voice was light, but his eyes gave him away.

She didn't know what to say, so she fell back on her most familiar ally: teasing. "About what? About heaven?"

"Okay." He gave a thoughtful nod. "That too." His gaze held hers and wouldn't let go. "But mostly that love doesn't mean seeing eye to eye on everything."

She tilted her head, willing him to comprehend what they were up against. "Shane, I'm a senior reporter at one of the top magazines in the country, and I'm in that position because of my stories on the war in the Middle East." Sadness crept between every word. Sadness and longing and resignation. "There isn't a reader in the nation who doesn't know where I stand." She lowered her chin and kept her tone light. "And then there's you, over on the other side of the table."

"Navy captain, supporter of the Republican Party, fan of the president." His eyes melted into hers. He brushed his thumb along the top of her hand.

The move kicked out the foundation of her resolve. "Right."

"So . . . " The people at other tables in the dining room seemed to fade from view, the conversation too deep for any distractions. "We'd have interesting dinner conversations, right?" He gave her the boyish grin that had haunted her dreams for a decade after he left. "Is that so bad?"

"Shane." She felt herself melting. "Really, I mean, think about it. What do we do? Get married and live at the Top Gun facility? So I can write articles condemning the war straight from command central?"

He shrugged. "You'd get quicker feedback."

"Anyway." She couldn't resist him another minute. Her salad was gone, so she pushed her tray back and slipped around the table to his side. "How was your lunch?"

"You changing subjects?" He crooked his finger beneath her chin and eased closer to her.

"You're quick, Shane." She breathed the words against his chin, moving her lips closer to his. "I always liked that about you."

"Really." His mouth found hers, and he slid his fingers up along her cheek bone. The kiss didn't last long, but it made her dizzy all the same. He drew back. "I thought you liked this." He kissed her again, his eyes full of light and love and humor. The way she remembered them being. "Besides, we wouldn't be the first couple separated by our politics. You've got Schwarzenegger and Shriver . . . Mary Matalin and James Carville."

"I know." She exhaled hard. He wasn't making this easy. If she sat here much longer he might even start making sense. A slight thrill swirled in her heart at the thought, but she looked past it. "Those couples didn't live in different countries, though."

He looked like he wanted to volley back, but he didn't. Instead he brought his lips together and looked deeper into her heart, to the long ago places where memories of him once ruled. "There's always a way, Lauren."

Thoughts of her father drifted through her mind, followed by the fact that in a week or so this time together with Shane would probably be nothing more than a wonderful coda on a lifetime of wondering. Even though they hadn't solved anything, she was grateful to him, glad that he'd kept the discussion silly and lighthearted, and even hopeful. Now, when time was so desperately short, that's what they needed most.

On their way back up to her father's room, Shane eased her into a doorway. "Hi." The word was a breathy whisper as he brushed his face against hers. He kissed her once more and when he pulled away he said, "Just working on military public relations."

She had a serious answer, something about sensibilities and their obvious differences. But it wouldn't come to the surface. Without the words, she returned his kiss, breathless with the way he made her feel. When she took a breath she could do nothing but grin at him. "You know what?"

He brought his lips to hers once more and then found her eyes, his voice full of desire. "What?"

"You're good at it."

Her daddy was going downhill fast.

By the next day he was too weak to do anything more than look at them through tired eyes. Close friends from her parents' church came by the hospital twice that morning to circle his bed, hold hands, and pray. The first few times Lauren didn't join in.

"I'll wait in the hall." She gave a polite smile, using the moment to visit the restroom or grab a water from the vending machine. But as she left that first time, the pastor's voice stopped her. She hesitated, standing in the hall, listening . . . amazed. She'd prayed that way once, hadn't she? Back when she and Shane were so sorry for sleeping together?

In the course of the day, a dozen different prayers came back to her. She'd begged God to let Emily live and she'd begged him to help her find Shane. It was noon when it hit her. Emily was right.

God had done both. Maybe not in her timing, but then hadn't they always been taught that God had His ways, that His ways were better than their ways, even when it didn't feel like it? Another prayer was happening inside her father's room, so she leaned against the wall outside and tried to remember . . .

How had it happened? How had she and God moved so far away from each other? The answer was easy. She pictured herself standing over the small hospital bed, Emily lying there gasping for breath, burning up. The doctor told her Emily had almost no chance of living, and so God was the only answer left. Lauren had begged Him to let her live.

She remembered what it felt like hours later to have the nurse tell her Emily was gone, the shakiness in her chest, the terror streaming through her veins. Okay, yes, God had let her daughter live. But hadn't He robbed her of the chance to see Emily grow up, to be a part of her life?

And what about Shane? God knew how badly she wanted to find him. If she'd come across him, then she would've felt compelled to go home again, and there she would've found Emily. A decade sooner or even more. Wasn't that God's fault too?

After starting her new life in Los Angeles, God became just one more part of her past, one more person she'd walked away from. Then, as she got into political reporting and moved her way up on the Time magazine staff, she began believing the same thing so many of her peers believed. That Christians were hypocrites.