It hurt to see Angie so afraid. Lauren went to her, sat down on the swing beside her. “I’m not Sarah. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
“I know that, Lauren.”
“So don’t be afraid.”
Angie laughed. “Okay. Then I’ll cure cancer and walk on water.” She sobered. “It’s not about you, Lauren. Some fears run deep, that’s all. It’s nothing for you to worry about. For now that’s your bedroom. I like having you there.”
“One occupant at a time, is that it?”
“Something like that. Now. Don’t you have something to tell me?”
“What?”
“Like that today is your eighteenth birthday. I had to find out from David.”
“Oh. That.” It hadn’t occurred to her to tell them. Her birthdays had always come and gone without much fanfare.
“We’re having a party at Mama’s.”
A feeling moved through Lauren. It felt as if she’d just drunk a huge amount of champagne. “For me?”
Angie laughed. “Of course it’s for you. Though I warn you now—there will probably be games.”
Lauren couldn’t contain her smile. No one had ever thrown her a birthday party before. “I love games.”
Angie produced a small, foil-wrapped package and handed it to her. “Here,” she said. “I wanted to give this to you when things were quiet. Just us.”
Lauren’s fingers were trembling with excitement as she opened the gift. Inside a white box marked Seaside Jewelry was a beautiful silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket. When Lauren opened the locket, she found a tiny photograph of her and Angie. The left side was blank.
For the baby.
Lauren wasn’t sure why it made her want to cry. She only knew that when she hugged Angie and whispered, “Oh, thank you,” she tasted the salty moisture of her own tears. Finally, she drew back, wiping her eyes. It was embarrassing to cry so easily, and over a necklace. She went to the porch rail and looked out over the ocean. Surprisingly, it was hard to talk past the lump in her throat. “I love it here,” she said softly, leaning forward into the breeze. “The baby will love growing up here. I wish …”
“What do you wish?”
Slowly, Lauren turned around. “If I’d grown up in a place like this, with a mother like you … I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be shopping for clothes that could double as parachutes.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, honey. Growing up loved doesn’t shield you from that.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Lauren said, “not being loved … to want so much from someone.”
Angie got to her feet and went to Lauren. “I’m sure your mother loves you, Lauren. She’s just confused right now.”
“The weird thing is, I miss her sometimes. I wake up crying and realize I was dreaming about her. Do you think those dreams will go away?”
Angie touched Lauren’s cheek gently. “I think a girl needs her mother forever. But maybe it will stop hurting so much. And maybe someday she’ll come back.”
“Needing something from my mother is like waiting to win the lottery. You can buy a ticket every week and pray, but the odds aren’t good.”
“I’m here for you,” Angie said. “And I love you.”
Lauren felt the sting of tears. “I love you, too.” She threw her arms around Angie and clung to her. She wished she never had to let go.
With each passing day, Angie felt herself tightening. One twist of the spine at a time, until by early June she had a constant headache and it hurt to get out of bed. Conlan kept telling her that she needed to see a chiropractor. She’d nod and say, “You know, you’re right,” and sometimes she even went so far as to make an appointment.
But she knew the source of her problem didn’t reside in her bones. It was a heart thing. Every sunrise brought her closer to the baby she’d always wanted … and closer to the day Lauren would leave.
The truth was, it was chewing Angie up inside; these two needs of hers couldn’t coexist.
Conlan knew this, of course. His recommendation of a chiropractor was purely out of form, a man’s need to find solutions. When they lie in bed at night, as fitted together as long lost puzzle pieces, he asked the questions that mattered. She answered each one, no matter how it hurt.
“She’ll be leaving soon,” he said tonight, drawing Angie closer, stroking her upper arm with his thumb. “She wants to go to Los Angeles early to find a job. The counselor thinks arrangements can be made for her to housesit a sorority for the summer.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the way it has to be,” Conlan said.
Angie closed her eyes, but it didn’t help. The images were carved into her mind: Lauren packing up, kissing them good-bye, moving out. “I know,” she said. “I just hate to think of her being all alone.”
Conlan’s voice was gentle when he said, “I think she’ll need to get away.”
“She doesn’t know how hard it’s going to be. I’ve tried to tell her.”