Lauren looked down at the baby in her arms. “I know I promised him to you. I just …” She looked up. Tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, Lauren.” At last, Angie closed the gap between them. She touched Lauren’s damp cheek in the gentle kind of caress she’d dared so easily in the past. “I should have told you more about what it was like. It’s just … it was so hard to think about the day I had Sophie. The few minutes I held her. I knew when you looked into your baby’s eyes, you’d be as lost as I was. That’s why I never decorated the nursery. I knew, honey.”
“You knew I’d keep him?”
“I was pretty sure.”
Lauren’s face crumpled just a little, her lips trembled and curved downward. “But you stayed with me. I thought—”
“It was you, Lauren. Don’t you know that? You’re part of our family. We love you.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. “Even after how I hurt you?”
“Love bangs us up a bit in this life, Lauren. But it doesn’t go away.”
Lauren stared up at her. “When I was little, I used to have a dream. The same one, every night. I was in a green dress and a woman was there, reaching down to hold my hand. She always said, ‘Come on, Lauren, we don’t want to be late.’ When I woke up, I was always crying.”
“Why were you crying?”
“Because she was the mom I couldn’t have.”
Angie drew in a sharp breath, then released it on a ragged sigh. Something inside her gave way; she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been wrapped until the pressure eased. This was what they’d come together for, she and Lauren. This one perfect moment. She reached out for Lauren’s hand, said gently, “You have me, Lauren.”
Tears streaked down Lauren’s face. “Oh, Angie,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Angie pulled her into her arms. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Thank you, Angie,” she said in a quiet voice, drawing back.
Angie’s face softened into a smile. “No. Thank you.”
“For being nothing but trouble and keeping you up at night?”
“For showing me how it feels to be a mother. And now, a grandmother. All of those empty years I dreamed of my little girl on a merry-go-round. I didn’t know …”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That my daughter was already too old for playgrounds.”
Lauren looked up at her then. It was all in her eyes, the years spent in quiet desperation, standing at her window, dreaming of a mother who loved her, or lying in her bed, longing for a bedtime story and a good-night kiss. “I was waiting for you, too.”
Angie felt her smile shake. She reinforced it, wiped her eyes. “And who is this barnacle on your chest?”
“John Henry.” Lauren eased the baby out of the front pack and offered him to Angie. She took him, held him in her arms.
“He’s perfect,” she whispered, feeling a heady combination of love and awe. Nothing filled a woman’s arms like a baby. She kissed his soft forehead, inhaled the baby-sweet scent of him.
“What do I do now?” Lauren asked in a quiet voice.
“You tell me. What do you want to do?”
“I want to go to college. I guess it’ll have to be community college for now. Maybe if I work for a few months and really save up I’ll be able to take classes in the spring. It wasn’t what I dreamed of, but … things change.”
“Even that will be hard,” Angie said gently. Harder still would be watching all her friends—and David—go off to college in the fall. She’d lose them all. One by one, they’d go on with their lives. They’d have nothing in common with a girl their age who’d become a mother. It would break Lauren’s heart.
“I’m used to hard. If I could have my job back …”
“Would it help if you had a place to live?”
Lauren gasped; it was a sharp, brittle sound, as if she’d just washed ashore. “Really?”
“Of course, really.”
“I wouldn’t—we wouldn’t have to stay for long. Just until I had enough money for an apartment and day care.”
“Don’t you understand, yet, Lauren? You don’t need day care. You’re part of a loud, loving, opinionated family now. Johnny won’t be the first baby to grow up in the restaurant, and he won’t be the last.” She grinned. “And as you might imagine, I could find time to babysit. Not every day, of course. He’s your son, but I could certainly help.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course.” Angie gazed down at Lauren sadly. The girl looked so young right now; her eyes were full of a hope that seemed brand-new. Angie pulled her into a fierce hug. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t let go. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped back. “You’re here just in time. Today is Aunt Giulia’s birthday. I’ve made three blueberry cobblers—which no one except you and Conlan will eat.” She reached out for Lauren, and then said quietly, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”
Lauren swallowed hard. A quivering smile curved her lips even as she started again to cry. “I love you, Angie.”