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Toronto

“A nd I’m going to close with what I always like to say, we can trust God with it all, yeah? Yeah!”

Sarah grinned as she wrapped up the podcast. “Thank you, dear friends, for taking time out of your busy lives to pause, connect, and remember God’s faithfulness. I’m Sarah Walton, and you have been listening to Time Out with Sarah . Until next time, keep trusting!”

She pressed the cued outro music, a sample from one of her independent singles, and waited the requisite five seconds until it was time to end and save. Nearly two years of doing her podcast and she was finally getting the hang of it. She placed a hand on her stomach. “Just in time for you, huh?”

Her eyes closed as a wave of thankfulness rolled over her.

God was so good. So very, very good. Who would have thought six years ago that she’d be married and living in Toronto?

She’d expected to be married, yes, but not to Dan.

Her heart panged a little as she remembered Stephen, whose death in a car crash on New Year’s Eve had precipitated her exodus to Canada all those years ago.

Sometimes she wasn’t sure whether she should admit to Dan that she still occasionally thought about her former fiancé.

Not in any betrayal way, which was why she hadn’t said anything.

But completely wiping all memories of her dead fiancé seemed impossible.

She blew out a breath, then pushed away from the desk, in the soundproofed second bedroom she’d commandeered in their high rise apartment.

Half the room held an assortment of music and recording equipment and this desk where she did her podcast and connected with the other musicians from Heartsong Collective who lived around the world.

The other half held an assortment of baby paraphernalia, ready for six months’ time.

Six months’ time. She shivered. No-one, apart from Dan and the doctor knew.

After the doctor’s visit the initial elation had diminished as he’d examined her results and studied her previous medical records, warning that her hCG levels were low, and there was a possibility of miscarriage.

But her other symptoms seemed to indicate her body was adjusting as it should.

But even with the first ultrasound showing a little heartbeat she’d been reluctant to say anything to anyone, wanting desperately to get to twelve weeks, which the doctor had indicated was the best time to determine true viability.

But the doctor’s cautions were falling on deaf ears. She and Dan had just looked at each other in wonder. After all that they’d gone through, this was an absolute miracle; God would certainly not let anything happen to their miracle. But they hadn’t told anyone else yet.

Sarah delighted in hugging her secret to herself. Each day that took them closer to the twelve-week mark was brighter. The birds seemed to sing more sweetly. Even the sickness and tiredness were okay now she knew they were signs that her body was doing everything it could to help this baby along.

Dan was so excited. He tried to downplay it, of course, but she could tell. He’d become even more gentle, his caresses were more tender, and the light in his eyes was something she’d never seen before. Who knew such a tiny sac of cells could be responsible for so much?

Her prayers of thankfulness came from the very depths of her being. She’d never imagined—never dared to imagine—this possibility.

Please Lord . She placed a hand on her abdomen, her prayers for this one near constant. After the past two miscarriages, surely God would let this one live. Please Lord .

A faint siren stole through the window, and she got up to peer outside.

Blue skies were always welcome for a transplanted Aussie, and the fact that Dan’s season was soon ending, and summer was on its way meant they’d finally get the chance to return to Muskoka.

She couldn’t wait. It was her favorite part of the world.

The sound of keys clattering on a table outside drew anticipation, and she hurried to open the door. Then nearly slammed into Dan’s broad chest.

“Whoa.” He laughed, holding her upper arms to steady her.

Clumsy was as much part of her DNA as the vibrant color of her hair.

“Someone seems eager to see me.”

“Oh, you know it.” She slid her hands up behind his neck and tugged his face lower. “Hi.”

His eyes darkened. “Hello, Princess.”

His lips met hers, sending tingles shimmering across her skin. Who said marriage sucked away the sparks? Nearly three years of marriage and their relationship was just as hot as in the beginning.

A satisfyingly long smooch later, and she leaned back in the cradle of his arms. “You’re home earlier than I thought.”

“I was hoping you’d have finished your podcast by now.”

“Yep, all done, and ready for next week.”

“Organized as ever.”

“The only way to be.” Especially with their crazy schedules.

Him with hockey, which meant six months of the year she barely saw him, between his training, road trips and games.

Coupled with her own trips for recording sessions and tours with Heartsong Collective, time spent together that wasn’t snatched or planned to the nth degree was a rare commodity.

He’d talked about being one injury away from retirement, and while she prayed daily for his safety, she couldn’t wait for the chance to slow the hectic pace of their life, as his retirement from hockey would do.

Her heart sparkled. And allow for other things.

“And,” he continued, “I might’ve thought that hanging with my wife was better than hanging with the guys.”

She smiled, tracing a hand down his rough cheek. “You thought right.”

His lips curved higher, then he drew nearer, as if for another kiss, but she pulled back. “But I’m guessing someone also might’ve just remembered that his mom is expecting us for dinner tonight, and hates it when we’re late.”

“Do we have to go?”

“You know we do.”

“Do we?” he asked, dropping a kiss on her jaw.

“They’re your parents,” she murmured. And while things were much easier than when Sarah had first met them, it still wasn’t as relaxed as with her own. Even Dan often said the same.

“Why are we talking about dinner with my folks when that’s still a few hours away?”

“Exactly.” She raised her eyebrows.

He smiled and lifted his. “Oh, I like how you think, Mrs. Walton.”

“I thought you might, Mr. Walton. Come on.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Later, they drove the twenty minutes from his apartment to Sunnybrook, and the Tudor-inspired house his parents had bought when they’d made their millions on the stock exchange.

Hard to believe that just over the parkland was where Drake had his mega mansion, with some reports putting the rapper’s house at costing $100 million.

How insane. And while she might’ve had her share of travel and meeting famous people, sometimes it still seemed crazy to her just how disparate the world could be.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked, as they drove along.

“Absolutely.” She grinned. “Never better.”

He reached across and caressed her belly. “Everything feeling good?”

“Yep.” She placed her hand on top of his. “Nothing to worry about.” Please Lord.

“Do you think we can tell them?”

She pressed her lips together, holding in the protest. She didn’t want to tell them. Not when she hadn’t told her own parents yet. Her own parents, who had prayed with her, believed with her, for just this miracle ever since the accident five and a half years ago.

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“A not yet,” she amended.

“That’s probably wise.”

She winced. She hated letting practicalities get in the way of what should be unfettered joy. But the last two times when she’d felt this rush of excitement had only resulted in devastation. She couldn’t bring others into it, not until they’d reached twelve weeks. Please Lord.

Her parents had been so supportive, flying from Sydney both times, comforting her and Dan.

Part of her clung to the fact that at least she’d been able to get pregnant, which, considering the accident and all the subsequent surgeries, felt miracle enough.

But it seemed like the miracle of conceiving life was a different one to that of being able to carry a child to full term. Lord, let this time be different.

It wasn’t her fault, the doctors had assured her; Dan and her parents, too. She peeked across. He caught her gaze, smiled, and held out his hand.

Lord, let this time be different for his sake, please.

Maybe she was the only woman in the world who wanted a child more for her husband’s sake than her own. But she knew he had regrets from the past, regrets she suspected would only truly be resolved by the birth of his child.

They held hands until he pulled into the drive of the house with its mock Tudor facade, then she internally braced.

He chuckled.

“What?”

“It’s funny how you still seem wary about meeting them.”

She exhaled. “I still give that impression?”

“Only to me.”

“I hope so. I don’t want them to feel like I’m uncomfortable around them.” Even if it was sometimes true. She’d often wondered how Dan and his younger brother Sam had managed to escape the stiff and starchy personalities epitomized by Helen and Andrew Walton.

“And I only notice because I know you so well, Sar Bear.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, a new one he’d started with its reference to a bear encounter from her first summer in Muskoka, when she’d complained about him calling her ‘Princess’ all the time, because it just sounded too…

princessy. She wasn’t precious, or pompous, or pretentious.

Far from it. She was still normal, clumsy, mostly unfiltered Sarah.

The girl who dropped food on her clothes and tended to overshare.

They knocked then entered, and were met with a, “You’re here!”

“Hi, Helen.” Sarah hugged her, then moved to hug her father-in-law. “Hi, Andrew.”

“You’re looking well.”