“We’re full up.”
“Oh.” Lauren refused to give in to despair. She had Johnny to think about now. Her tears would have to be swallowed from now on. She started to turn away.
“Maybe you better come in. It’s going to rain. You and Johnny can sleep in the spare bedroom for a night.”
Lauren’s legs almost buckled; her relief was so big. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Mauk led her into the apartment’s living/dining room.
For a split second, Lauren felt her past and present collide. It looked so much like her old apartment; same Formica dining set, same shag carpeting. A rose floral sofa was flanked by two blue La-Z-Boy recliners. A small black-and-white television showed an old episode of I Dream of Jeannie.
Mrs. Mauk went into the kitchen.
Lauren sat down on the sofa and eased Johnny out of the pack. He immediately started to cry. She changed his little diaper and rewrapped him, but he wouldn’t quit crying. His stuttering shrieks filled the tiny apartment.
“Please,” Lauren whispered, rubbing his back and rocking him. “I know you’re not hungry.”
It wasn’t until Mrs. Mauk returned, holding two cups of tea and saying, “Are you okay?” that Lauren realized she was crying.
She wiped her eyes, tried to smile. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
Mrs. Mauk set the mug on the coffee table and sat in one of the recliners. “He sure is tiny.”
“He’s only two days old.”
“And you’re here, looking for your mommy or a place to stay. Oh, Lauren.” Mrs. Mauk gave her one of those poor girl looks she knew so well.
They stared at each other. Behind them, the sitcom’s laugh track roared.
“What are you going to do?”
Lauren looked down at Johnny. “I don’t know. I was all set to give him up for adoption, but … I couldn’t do it.”
“I can see how much you love him,” Mrs. Mauk said, her voice softening. “And the father?”
“I love him, too. That’s why I’m here.”
“All alone.”
Lauren looked up. She felt her mouth tremble and tears fill her eyes. Again. “I’m sorry. It’s the hormones. I cry all the time.”
“Where have you been, Lauren?”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember the woman who came for you that day. I stood at my kitchen window and watched you get into her car and drive away, and I thought, Good for you, Lauren Ribido.”
“Angie Malone.” It hurt to say her name.
“I know I’m just an old woman who sits at home all day talking to her cats and watching reruns, but it looked like she loved you.”
“I ruined that.”
“How?”
“I promised her the baby and then I ran in the middle of the night. She’ll hate me now.”
“So you didn’t talk to her about it? You just ran off?”
“I couldn’t face her.”
Mrs. Mauk leaned back in her chair, studying Lauren through narrowed eyes. Finally, she said, “Close your eyes.”
“But—”
“Do it.”
Lauren did as she was told.
“I want you to picture your mother.”
She formed the image in her mind. Mom, platinum-haired, her once beautiful face beginning to tighten and go thin; she was sprawled on the broken-down sofa, wearing a frayed denim miniskirt and a cropped T-shirt. There was a cigarette in her right hand. Smoke spiraled up from it. “Okay.”
“That’s what running away does to a woman.”
Lauren slowly opened her eyes and looked at Mrs. Mauk.
“I watched you bust your ass for a chance in life, Lauren. You carried home backpacks full of books and worked two jobs and got yourself a scholarship to Fircrest. You came up with the rent when your loser mother spent it all at the Tides. I had hope for you, Lauren. Do you know how rare that is in this building?”
Hope.
Lauren closed her eyes again, this time picturing Angie. She saw her standing on the porch, looking out to sea, with her dark hair fluttering in the breeze. Angie turned, saw Lauren, and smiled. There you are. How did you sleep?
It was a nothing little memory; just an image of an ordinary day.
“You have someplace to go, don’t you?” Mrs. Mauk said.
“I’m afraid.”
“That’s no way to go through life, Lauren. Trust me on this. I know where the road ends if it starts with fear. You know where it ends, too. In an apartment upstairs and a mound of unpaid bills.”
“What if she can’t forgive me?”
“Come on, Lauren. You’re smarter than that,” Mrs. Mauk said. “What if she can?”
“You’re a reporter, damn it. Find her.”