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visits combined.
    Two hours passed, then three, with no sign of Ashley. John checked on Landon as often as he could, and by four o’clock his oxygen meter read ninety-three. Still not good, but an improvement. As John’s shift ended, a reporter from the local paper called.
    “We understand the injured firefighter gave his air mask to a child, is that right?”
    “Yes. The child is fine, scheduled to go home in the morning.” John steadied his voice. “The firefighter is in critical condition. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
    “So the firefighter’s a hero.”
    “Yes.” John swallowed a lump in his throat. “No question about it. His selfless efforts saved the boy’s life.”
    The moment the interview was finished, John headed toward his car. He had to find Ashley. Landon’s oxygen level was too low for his brain to survive, too low to sustain consciousness, especially given the fact that he was on a respirator. With mechanical help, Landon’s numbers should have been in the high nineties. If they didn’t improve soon, Landon might not live through the night. And if he did . . .
    John shuddered at the thought of Landon confined to a bed, living the rest of his days brain damaged, in a vegetative state.
    Wherever Ashley was, she needed to get to the hospital. Needed to let Landon hear her voice, tell him she was pulling  for him, caring for him.
    Or at least tell him good-bye.
    Before time ran out for both of them.
* * *
    Kari Baxter Jacobs—John and Elizabeth’s second daughter—sat in the corner of the Baxter living room, cradling her daughter, Jessie. She and the baby had been visiting a friend, and she hadn’t received word about Landon Blake until an hour ago. By the time she arrived at her parents’ home in Clear Creek, just south of Bloomington, the house had been full of people praying for his survival. Kari’s youngest sister, Erin Hogan; their brother,  Luke; and his girlfriend, Reagan Decker, sat around the room, quiet and somber.
    All of them guessing at places where they might find Ashley.
    Kari glanced up from her baby and met her mother’s eyes. “She left Cole with you this morning. Didn’t she say when she’d be back?”
    A sigh slipped from Elizabeth’s lips. “The interview was supposed to be over before noon. I thought she’d come straight home.”
    “Typical Ashley move.” Luke shifted to the floor and rested his back against Reagan’s knees. Kari had watched the two of them grow close these past months, and she’d talked to Luke about his intentions. There was no question about it—Luke was in love. And Kari was convinced Reagan felt the same way.
    Luke was still carrying on about Ashley’s absence. “Poor Cole upstairs playing by himself and you stuck baby-sitting all day. Again.” He sputtered. “I mean, come on, Mom. She could’ve at least called.”
    “I’m sure she has a reason.”
    “Sure, Ashley always has a reason. Especially when it’s—”
    Kari tuned them out. It didn’t matter where Ashley was or why she wasn’t home by now. What mattered was Landon Blake—struggling for his life, every breath an uncertainty.
    Kari ran her finger over Jessie’s tiny forehead, her mind wandering back to another time when she had waited for news about someone lying injured in a hospital bed. The years melted away, and Kari could hear the football game playing from the television in this very room, hear her father’s voice calling her.
    “Kari, quick! Ryan’s been hurt.”
    His words were as clear now as they’d been all those years ago when Ryan Taylor had been nearly paralyzed. She had been in love with him back then, and she could still picture him lying on the football field, still see his distraught mother at the hospital later that night.
    The memory faded, and a more recent one took its place. A memory of her and Ryan last year at Lake Monroe, where for the first time she had understood the truth about what happened so long ago, in the aftermath of his