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already…”
    “But you don’t have one child yet? And you’ve spent all this money on this building?”
    “We’re calling it The Ark,” Jeb said. “We’re building this school on faith. We’re being obedient, even if it looks crazy. We know God is in this, Sylvia.”
    Sylvia tried not to dash their hopes with her practical wisdom. She loved seeing faith like theirs, but part of her couldn’t help worrying that their dreams would be destroyed in the next few months. Things worked very slowly around here, and they could pour all of their time, money, and energy into something that was doomed to failure. If God had really told them to do this, that was one thing, but she feared it was one of those times when a missionary, so desperate to see God’s results in their lives, heard his own voice and attributed it to God. They would need students, teachers, materials, lesson plans…Too many things would have to come together to make this work.
    Still, she promised she would talk to Harry and see what they could do.
    As she headed back out into the warm rain, she looked up at the hills surrounding León, lined with houses with red-tiled roofs. She missed the different kind of hills surrounding her home in Breezewood. She missed the ease of life and the things she could take for granted. She missed feeling purpose and certainty in her life, as she had as a young mother with children at home. She feared she might never know that kind of purpose again.
    She wondered if Brenda and Cathy and Tory were all right. She could sure use one of their round-porch discussions right now. It would be heaven to sit on her porch with her neighbors,sipping sweet tea and talking about their children and their husbands and their churches. She longed for Brenda’s vibrant optimism, for Cathy’s sharp wit, for Tory’s honest faith.
    Oh, how she missed them.
    She couldn’t wait to get home and send them an e-mail, just to touch base. Maybe her latest stories would remind them how blessed they were.

C HAPTER Five
    The pregnancy test couldn’t be used until the next morning, so Tory hid it under her pillow and decided not to tell Barry until she was sure. But as Tory cooked supper and Barry helped Brittany with her homework, Spencer broadcast her secret. “Mommy’s been perjecting all over the place,” he said. “At Joseph’s house, at Britty’s school…”
    “Perjecting?” Barry asked, mildly amused. “What do you mean, perjecting?”
    “You know. Gettin’ sick. Perjectine barfing.”
    “Projectile?” Barry asked, shooting Tory a look. “Tory, are you okay?”
    She drew in a deep breath and looked wearily at her son. “Spencer, where do you get these words? He must have used six synonyms for vomiting today.”
    “He gets it from Nickelodeon,” Brittany said.
    Barry nodded agreement. “It’s one of their favorite subjects.”
    “I told you we needed to get rid of television.”
    “So is it true?” Barry asked. “Have you been sick?”
    She shrugged. “Must be a stomach virus. I don’t know.”
    “I thought you looked a little pale.” He got up and came to the stove. “Here, let me finish cooking. You don’t need to be standing over this if you’re sick.”
    “Yeah, I’m probably spreading germs, anyway,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was rooting for germs, when she spent so much time blasting Lysol on anything that could breed them.
    He kissed her cheek. “Go sit down.”
    “I’m fine,” she said as she headed out of the room. “Really. By tomorrow, I’ll be as good as new.” But even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t true.
    Later that night, Barry read the kids a chapter of Charlotte’s Web , while Tory cleaned the kitchen until it shined. She worried as she worked. When she was finished, she went to tuck them in, and wondered what it would be like to have a third little one demanding a glass of water, another kiss good night, a better hug, and a night-light that didn’t cast