When they stood, Elise hugged his mom. She wasn’t exactly crying, but tears kept sliding down her cheeks. Even so, it seemed the fear and uncertainty from earlier were gone. “I have a lot to think about.”
“You do.” His mother hugged her again. “I’ll be praying for you. And believing. That God will lead you where He wants you to go.”
On the ride home, Cole’s conversation with Elise was limited. She reached for his hand halfway there and that was enough. What could either of them say? Elise had the decision of a lifetime ahead of her. The silence was more important than words.
When he arrived at her house, Cole hurried around and opened her door. The way he always did. Something he had learned from his dad. He was about to hug her the way he had at the clinic, but she kept her distance, her words a little too quick. “Thank you, Cole. See ya later.”
Cole wasn’t sure what she meant. He should be thanking her. She had followed through on her promise and gone to see his mom. Something that was obviously not easy. He took her hands in his. It was mid-February, and the temperature was below freezing. Snow still covered the ground and Cole could see his breath. He searched her eyes. “For what?”
“For making me talk to her.” She smiled. Her cheeks were still red, but her eyes were dry now. “Your mother is amazing.”
Peace washed over him. “You two are a lot alike. I think that’s why God brought you into my life.”
Elise hesitated, then she looked down. A slight nod and she pulled her hands away. “I have to go.”
Cole watched her leave and on the drive back home he realized something. She hadn’t exactly said she wouldn’t have an abortion. But she wouldn’t, right? Not after listening to his mother. Elise had definitely looked touched by his mother’s story, by her encouragement. Her silence on the drive, her gratitude for the talk. She couldn’t possibly go through with it now.
Or could she?
As Cole turned into his driveway, he pictured Elise sitting beside him earlier, crying, trying to figure out what to do. His heart had gone out to her the entire time. Then he imagined her website full of paintings and the song in her voice when she talked about her dreams. He saw her pretty face and waves of hair, and how she looked like a Disney princess in need of a prince.
A rescue.
That could be him, right? He had thought about it before, only now the idea was more real. His dad had stepped in and saved the day for his mother. He parked his SUV and leaned back in his seat. Look how that had turned out. Yes, it was something he could definitely do. After graduation he would get a job and take college classes online. He and Elise could get married and he would be the father her tiny baby needed. She could take art courses at the community rec center. That was possible, right?
All so her baby could live.
Suddenly all of it was clear in Cole’s mind, and it didn’t scare him. The idea made him smile. And that was when another thought hit him. A thought that took his breath. He not only liked Elise Walker.
He loved her.
11
Brooke Baxter West was headed down the hallway to Bloomington Hospital’s pediatric unit when a man in a sharp gray suit rounded the corner and nearly ran her down. He stopped and looked straight at her. Then Brooke placed him. The father of one of her very sick patients.
Abigail Green. She had gone home from the hospital yesterday.
“Mr. Green.” Brooke stopped and crossed her arms. Was the little girl sick again? “How’s Abigail?”
“Call me Alan.” He exhaled, as if he’d been holding it in until now. “She’s so much better.” He looked like he might break down. “I came here to thank you.” He seemed to catch his breath. “Dr. West. You saved my daughter’s life.”
A warmth spread through Brooke’s heart. This was why she loved being a doctor. Moments like this. “Just doing my job.” She leaned against the wall. Abigail had come in with what seemed like the flu. It had been Brooke’s idea to check for myocarditis. An infection of the heart.
“I respectfully disagree.” Mr. Green’s expression filled with gratitude. “Do you know how many doctors wouldn’t have checked her heart?”
He was right. But there was a reason, and Brooke wouldn’t miss the chance to give credit where it was due. “Well, Mr. Green. I have to be honest.” Brooke felt her look deepen. “Every morning I ask God two things.” She hesitated. “Give me wisdom beyond my own. And bring healing to my patients.”
A soft laugh came from Abigail’s father. “I knew you were a Christian. I told my wife. Because who checks a sick little girl’s heart unless God’s giving that doctor supernatural guidance?” He leaned against the wall opposite Brooke. “She’d only been here for an hour and you were ordering all the right tests. Before we knew what was happening she was being wheeled into surgery for the heart cath.”
Brooke remembered the process with the little girl. Myocarditis had to be caught early, before the infection damaged the heart. Many people die from the illness. Others need a heart transplant after being sick for just a week or two. Abigail was going to recover completely without any lasting effects.
All because God prompted her to run specific tests. And the infection was caught in time.
Brooke smiled and straightened again. Patients just down the hall were waiting for her. “I can’t imagine practicing medicine without God leading me.” She held out her hand and shook his. “I’m glad she’s doing well.”
“Here.” He pulled two business cards from his pocket. “I’m an adoption attorney. If I can ever help you in any way, let me know.” He shrugged. “Not sure how that would look. But I pray about my work, too.”
Meetings like this always felt divinely orchestrated. Brooke took the cards and shared a final handshake with the man. “Tell your wife hello for me. And let Abigail know I’m glad she’s feeling better.” Brooke paused. “I’m still praying for her.”
“I’ll tell her.” The man hesitated, like he couldn’t say it enough. “Thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome.” Brooke waved as the man headed for the elevators. She breathed deep and continued toward the pediatric unit. Her rounds that day were less eventful than some. A twelve-year-old with a broken leg from a skateboarding accident. A severe case of strep throat, and a teenager with appendicitis.
Brooke took the chair in her office and grabbed a stack of patient charts. In addition to volunteering at the crisis pregnancy center, she and her husband, Peter, ran a very successful pediatric office, a practice they’d been building for years. Long ago, after Hayley’s drowning though, everyone thought Brooke and Peter were finished working together.
That wasn’t all. Most thought Brooke and Peter’s marriage was finished, too.
Faith wasn’t a part of Peter and Brooke’s life in the beginning. Brooke’s family had been strong Christians, especially their doctor father—a legend at Bloomington Hospital—Dr. John Baxter. Not Brooke. She and Peter were agnostic. They had figured they would decide about God later, if they had to decide at all.
Then Hayley drowned. And that changed everything.
They were all devastated, of course. Brooke and Peter and Maddie, their older daughter. But when Peter couldn’t take the pain another day he got a bottle of pills from the pharmacy. Almost overnight he was an addict—as if a prescription could deaden the ache of all they had lost when Hayley fell into that swimming pool.
But over time Brooke and Peter realized as gut-wrenching as their suffering was, letting their marriage fall apart would only make the situation worse. Maddie and Hayley needed them. Both of them. Together.
So Peter got help with his addiction, and the two of them went to counseling at Clear Creek Community Church. And there—like Paul on the road to Damascus—Brooke and Peter felt the scales fall from their eyes. They ran to Jesus and nothing had been the same since.
That was only the beginning. Their newfound faith made them hungry for more, and in recent years both Brooke and Peter were intentional about tak
ing Jesus with them to work.
Every single day.
No one had to tell Brooke West about the power of God’s redemption. She and her family were living proof. Even Hayley, who had her eyes on a college degree. Something none of them had thought possible after her drowning injury.
Brooke smiled to herself. Every day was a challenge, an adventure. And she and Peter had never been more in love. As she helped their girls figure out their way in life, Peter was at her side.
He would be as long as he drew breath. That’s what he told her.
She finished her paperwork and was on her way to the maternity ward when she spotted Aaron Williams walking toward her. The entire hospital staff loved the new young administrator and his wife. They were the kind of people the medical team needed. Dedicated, qualified, and ready to take health care at Bloomington Hospital to the next level. That wasn’t all. Brooke and Peter had become very good friends with Aaron and his wife, Lucy. A friendship Brooke appreciated more all the time.
Normally Aaron was one of the brightest lights in the hospital. He stood tall with a faith and commitment that made everyone want to work harder.
But that wasn’t the case today.
He approached her and slid his hands into the pockets of his suit coat. “Hey, Brooke. Is Peter here today?”
“No.” She and her husband took turns doing rounds at Bloomington Hospital. “He’s at the office this morning.”
“Okay.” Aaron nodded. He hesitated and for a few seconds he looked down. When he lifted his head and his eyes met hers, it was clear something was wrong. “Maybe you can help me.” He took a quick breath. “Lucy’s talked to you about our situation, right? How we’ve been wanting a baby. For a decade.” His voice caught. “I hate talking about this.”
Brooke set her clipboard on the closest counter and turned her full attention to Aaron. “Yes. We’ve talked about it.” She focused on her friend. This was clearly a day of divine appointments. If there was a way she could help this couple, she would. Prayer. A referral. Or just being a listening ear, like now.
“She said you two were taking a break. I get the feeling she’s exhausted.”
“She is.” Aaron put his hand to his forehead and massaged his temples. “It’s scaring me, Brooke. I think . . . she’s given up.”
The poor guy looked nothing like the confident administrator the hospital staff knew him to be. Brooke wished Peter were here. She could only offer so much encouragement. Maybe a man-to-man conversation with Peter would be more of a help. “You’re not ready to move on from the idea.” She searched his eyes. “Is that it?”
“Right.” He breathed in sharply and shook his head. “The nursery in our house . . . I pray there every morning. I read my Bible there. I believe.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. “God’s going to give us a baby. I can’t stop believing that.”
Brooke tended to be more matter-of-fact. Part of the job, working in medicine. At least for her. Everyone in her family knew she was pragmatic. Nowhere near as emotional as her sisters, Kari and Ashley. But in this moment her heart was filled with empathy.
“Tell you what.” She offered a slight smile. “I’ll have Peter call you later. You two need to get together. You can tell him about all this, and . . . I don’t know, maybe think about whether you and Lucy need another conversation. Or maybe the four of us could meet.”
“Yes.” Aaron looked a little more hopeful. “I keep thinking God will just allow it to happen. And we’ll have a baby of our own.” He thought for a minute. “Or maybe there’s something else we need to look into. Something we’ve missed.”
“I’ll have Peter get with you.”
“Okay.” He found a slight smile. “I had to talk to someone. It’s just . . . I feel like I’m alone in all this. For now, anyway.”
The two said goodbye and Aaron was halfway down the hall when suddenly Brooke stopped short. She’d almost forgotten! The business cards in her white coat pocket. She spun around. “Aaron!”
He turned and started walking toward her. Other medical personnel passed on either side, but Brooke didn’t see them. She could only think of the lawyer from earlier, the father of her sick little patient. When Aaron reached her, Brooke pulled out one of the business cards and handed it to him. “Here.”
Aaron took it and stared at it. “Alan Green? Attorney?”
Chills ran down Brooke’s arms. She couldn’t see the complete picture now, but she could feel it. God was up to something. “He’s an adoption attorney.” Brooke remembered her conversation with the man. “He said if there was any way he could help me, to let him know.”
A flicker of hope lit up Aaron’s eyes. “An adoption attorney.”
“Yes.” Brooke’s shrug matched her smile. “Might be worth a call.”
She smiled as the two of them parted ways again. But it wasn’t until four hours later when Brooke climbed behind the wheel of her Volvo that her breath suddenly caught in her throat. She grabbed the lawyer’s other card from her pocket and looked at it. No telling why Alan Green had given her two business cards this morning. Or how he possibly could’ve known she’d have a reason to use them both.
All in one day.
But as Brooke drove home she could feel the pieces coming together. And all she could think about was a precious girl who was coming back to the crisis pregnancy center tomorrow afternoon. A sweet waif of a beauty who had told Brooke she couldn’t imagine raising a baby.
No telling what the teenager would choose to do. Brooke had to believe the girl wouldn’t get an abortion. She could definitely keep her baby and raise it. But just in case, Brooke knew exactly who should get the other card.
A girl named Elise Walker.
12
Lucy heard about the sick baby as soon as she checked into work that day. A little girl born three weeks early, addicted to heroin. Brooke Baxter West was one of the doctors on the infant’s case. Her notes said it all.
It will take a miracle for this child to survive.
Every time this happened, Lucy thought the same thing. Why would God—if there was a God—let a drug addict have a baby? When she and Aaron couldn’t? It was still on her mind as she headed for the NICU.
Baby Nathan was doing better, gaining precious ounces. He’d been alive in their care for nearly a month now. Lucy paused at his bassinet and checked his vitals. Then she moved across the unit to their newest patient.
The little girl was long and thin, her skin red and hot and blotchy. She was on life support, oxygen and a device to help her heart beat. On top of that a morphine drip had been started—like baby Rio had needed way back when. The pain of withdrawal was excruciating for a newborn. Morphine was the only way for a baby to survive it.
“Poor little girl.” Lucy ran her finger over the tiny sock on the baby’s foot. Heroin was one of the most difficult drugs in all the world to beat. The President had declared the opioid crisis a national emergency because users were dying each day, on the streets of every city in the nation.
Still, Lucy couldn’t fathom taking deadly drugs while pregnant. Once in her training she had heard a former heroin dealer being interviewed. “The goal is to come as close to death as possible without dying,” the man said. “That’s the life of an opioid addict.”
But that mind-set during a pregnancy?
Lucy sat in the chair next to the sick newborn. How could a woman feel her baby kicking inside her and then shoot up with heroin? As if the life and future of her child didn’t matter at all. The fact that the drug was going to cause the baby pain and harm and possible brain damage and death—of no concern to the mother.
Of course, like other addictive drugs, heroin altered the mind. So most pregnant users had probably lost the ability to make a decision for anyone but themselves. So sad.
Lucy couldn’t fathom any of it.
She closed her eyes and remembered baby Rio. He had survived those nineteen days on the morphine pump, come out of what should’ve been a death sentence. M
aybe life with his grandmother was working out. There was a chance Rio’s mother had stayed clean and had reentered her little boy’s life. It was possible. But the odds were against it. Lucy had asked Aaron once if they should follow up, find out how Rio was doing. Whether he was still with his grandmother.
But in the end they had decided against it. What was the point? The state cared about the parents, not the children. At least that was how it seemed so often. Lucy would’ve done things differently if she ran the system. If the rules were hers, she would have much stricter guidelines for birth mothers.
A door opened and Lucy saw Brooke enter the unit. She smiled at Lucy and then checked on a few babies before joining her near the sick little girl. “Another heroin baby.” Brooke sighed. Her voice was heavy with sadness. “I’m surprised she made it through the night.”
The infant’s chest trembled and shook with every mechanical breath. Lucy blinked back tears. “She’s a fighter.” She turned to Brooke. “What’s her situation? If she makes it?”
“Same as always.” Brooke lowered her clipboard and her shoulders sank a little. “Mom’s in rehab—wants to fix things, wants her baby. Grandma’s willing to help.”
“Something has to change.” Lucy stood and touched the baby girl’s foot again. “It’s not fair.”
“No.” Brooke checked her notes. “I’ve got to do some tests on Nathan.” She gave Lucy a sad look. But before she turned away she hesitated. “Oh . . . I’ve been meaning to tell you. I gave Aaron the number of an attorney a few weeks ago. The father of a patient of mine.” She paused. “He handles adoptions.”
Lucy nodded. “He told me.” She wasn’t sure what to say, how to react. “Thanks, Brooke. We’re talking about it.”
For a moment, Brooke only studied her, as if she could see the deeper pain in Lucy’s soul. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Okay.” Lucy waited till she was gone. Then once more she sat down next to the sick baby girl’s bed. Aaron had showed her the attorney’s card last night. Lucy didn’t realize he’d had it that long. But at least Aaron was honest with her.
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