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“Y ou’ll be pleased to know that everything is looking as best as can be expected.”

Sarah nodded, then asked the question she wished Dan was here to hear. “Um, so when do you think we can try again?”

Dr. McKinnon frowned. “Like the previous two times, you need to give your body time to heal. I’d advise that you wait until at least your next cycle before you resume intimacy again.”

She withheld a sigh. “Thank you.”

Dan’s patience was one of the things she loved about him, but he’d chafed at the doctor’s restrictions last time.

Mind you, the way she was feeling right now, she’d be happy to put off anything like that for months.

The distance between them was growing. He had optional training yesterday, which seemed pointless with only two games to go, but when she’d tried to tease him about that he’d simply frowned at her then opted to go anyway.

Then he had an away game this afternoon, which meant he wouldn’t return until much later tonight. Things between them felt so strained.

“And don’t be surprised if there is more spotting over the next week or so. Ideally, you want to allow as much time as possible before engaging in such encounters. Allow your body the time it needs.”

She nodded.

“But Sarah.”

Oh. A ‘but’ was never good.

“Seeing as you now have had three miscarriages in a row, we need to do some genetic tests. The testing of the tissue was inconclusive, so we’ll need to do some blood tests on you and Dan to check for genetic conditions that might be causing miscarriages.”

Fear clanged across her chest like a loud gong. Genetic conditions? “What do you mean?”

He eyed her seriously. “There are certain autoimmune or hormone conditions that can contribute to infertility issues, including chromosomal incompatibilities.”

She blinked. “Are you saying that Dan and I might be incompatible?” The idea was laughable. He was her perfect match. He often said she was his. God wouldn’t have brought them together in this way if that wasn’t true. Would He?

“I’m not saying that, no. But there are some couples whose genetic screening means they are more likely to, ah,” he cleared his throat, “have a child with significant health issues, if indeed they are even able to be carried to full term.”

Breath was suddenly hard to find. “Are you saying that even if I was to carry a baby to full term that it might have birth defects?”

“We don’t like to use that kind of terminology,” he said. “And that is why we advise for the screening.”

“I don’t understand how this can happen.”

His mouth tweaked in a non-smile. “I wish your husband could’ve been here so we could discuss that.”

Oh, she wished that too. “He had a game. But I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why would we need to have screening for birth defects?”

He clasped his hands together on the desk. “We like potential parents to be aware of all their options.”

Options? Like what—terminating a pregnancy? The fear hovering around her swooped low, clawing her as she tried to grapple with what the obstetrician was saying.

“So, Sarah, can we do this now?”

“Sorry, do what?”

“Your blood test,” he replied patiently.

“Oh. Uh, sure.”

“Good. We can do yours now, and we’ll schedule Dan’s when he’s able.”

A few minutes later he was pressing a sticky band-aid on her upper arm. “In addition, I’d like to conduct a hysterosalpingogram, where we test your uterus and fallopian tubes with an X-ray dye.”

“When?”

“When you’ve stopped bleeding. So if you like we can schedule that for two months’ time.”

She didn’t like, but if it helped… “Okay.”

She exited his office, made the new appointments, paid, then moved to her SUV.

The vehicle with its extra safety measures made her feel a bit like she was encased in a bubble in Toronto’s city traffic, like nothing could touch her.

Which was just what she’d needed after the car accident back home had made her fear driving again.

Home . How funny she still thought of Sydney as home, despite having lived here for nearly three years.

Twenty minutes later she drove into their apartment’s parking garage, praying she wouldn’t come across any babies. Muskoka had been a great escape from that, but here there were too many triggers for envy, fear, and tears.

Fortunately, God was kind to her, and she rode up to the sixteenth floor without encountering anyone.

Which was good. She needed to get her mind focused on the things that she had to do today.

Like cancel her music commitments at church.

And contact the Heartsong crew and tell them she’d be available to tour later this summer after all.

Not that she’d spoken to Dan about that yet.

They’d talked about visiting her family in Australia, but the latest pregnancy had put paid to that.

But now it was an option, especially with the tour.

Dan always preferred Muskoka, and had a camp for city underprivileged kids this June as he always did.

But so much needed to be talked about. Like what his future retirement plans might be.

It was one thing to have vague discussions about things; quite another to imagine what their lives could look like if he was home all the time, instead of chuffing off to play games for half the year.

Especially if there was no baby, like they both had dared to hope for their world to revolve around.

The door opened, and she exited, then stilled. Jackie Cash stood outside her apartment door, her sweet little bundle poised on her shoulder.

No. She didn’t want to say hello. She didn’t want to pretend she was okay. She could hop back in the elevator, or maybe try for stealth moves across the hallway to access her apartment, but Jackie might see. Darn, Jackie had seen, judging from the relief on her face.

“Hi, Sarah.”

“G’day.” The Australianism still slipped out occasionally. There was nothing for it, but she’d have to suck it up and pretend seeing her neighbor didn’t hurt.

“Hey, I’m sorry to ask, but would you mind holding Charlie for a moment?”

Yes. Yes, she minded. But saying so would only make her look petty. Quick, could she fake a cold? She coughed. “I’m not sure you really want me to. I’ve just been at the doctor’s.” That was true enough.

“Oh. Okay, then. I appreciate you letting me know.”

Sarah nodded, faked a smile, and hurried inside, closing the door, and rushing down the hall in case her neighbor felt like being neighborly and wanted to talk with her.

Once inside the sound-proofed room she closed the door, her movements stilling at the sight of the box holding a cot. Oh, why had they thought to buy it? Her eyes filled. She knew exactly why. It was a faith statement, something that said, ‘one day, in God’s good timing’.

Her knees buckled. Which was when? “When, Lord?”

She sank onto the soft rug, heart sorrowing as she gave into tears.

Was the doctor right in suggesting she and Dan were incompatible?

Was a child of theirs destined to have health challenges?

How did others deal with this? Where was God in the midst of this?

Oh, she wished Dan was here, but was also perversely glad Dan could not see her now.

He didn’t need to see her being weak. Not again.

She’d been so emotionally weak these past six days he hadn’t wanted to leave her today. But she’d insisted.

Her cheek brushed the soft lamb’s wool, and she closed her eyes. Oh, she was tired, so tired. She really needed to sleep.

Her phone reminder woke her. She cracked open a gummy eyelid, her face sticky with tears and snot, her back aching.

Where—? Oh. She pushed herself upright, glanced around.

Why was she on the floor in here? Had she fainted?

She’d fainted before with one of her pregnancies.

Maybe that was why the doctor was so concerned.

Her eyes filled, as the memory of her miscarriage surged, then fears screamed again: Incompatible. Birth defects. Health issues. Her heart buckled. “Lord, where are You? I need You.” Her faith felt so feeble right now.

More tears threatened, but she blinked them away. No. She wouldn’t give in. God gave her strength, she could do this. She rubbed her eyes, no doubt smearing more of her makeup. Her makeup mask was the armor she’d needed for her brief scurry out into the world earlier.

She switched off the phone alarm, set to alert that her podcast had dropped. She opened the app, saw she had comments to reply to. Comments she didn’t want to reply to. How could she have been so blithe about trusting God last week? It was so much harder now.

Echoes of the prayers she’d prayed recently whispered to her, but thanking God for His love felt so false. Maybe God had buoyed her in those initial moments, but her spirit felt gouged out right now.

The doorbell rang. She froze. They weren’t expecting visitors. How she hoped it wasn’t Jackie again!

After tiptoeing to the front door, she peered through the peephole, then waited for Davis, the apartment’s concierge, to leave.

When she judged the elevator door had closed, she opened her door and snatched up the parcel.

The Express Post label and Australian markings must have made him think it was urgent.

Most parcels were left downstairs for collection.

She closed the door and moved to the living area, using her fingernail to pierce the bag. It had to be from her family. It felt too soft and squishy to be from Heartsong.

A few seconds later she was reading a card from Bek, pressing her lips together to hold back a sob.

Her sister had meant well. The ‘Congratulations! We are so thrilled for you! We love you!’ showed that.

After hearing their news Bek must have rushed straight to the post office in order for it to arrive so quickly.