“No? Just like that, no?”
At last her mother touched her. It was sad and soft and hardly lasted any time at all. “I paid for my mistake. I’m not paying for yours. Trust me on this. Have an abortion. Give yourself a chance in life.”
Are you sure?
The question had kept Angie wide awake last night.
“Damn you, Mira,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Mama said, coming up behind her. They were in Mama’s kitchen at home now, making pies for Thanksgiving.
“Nothing, Mama.”
“You have been muttering since you got here. I think you have something to say. Put those pecans on neatly, Angela. No one wants to eat a pie that’s a mess.”
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Angie tossed the bag of pecans on the counter and went outside. On the deck there was dew everywhere, clinging to the rails and floorboards. The lawn was as thick and soft as a layer of Christmas velvet.
She heard the sliding door open. Close.
Mama came up beside her, stood at her side, looking down at the bare rose garden. “You weren’t talking about the pecans.”
Angie rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I saw Conlan in Seattle.”
“It’s about time you tell me.”
“Mira blabbed, huh?”
“Shared is the word I would use. She was worried about you. As I am.”
Angie put her hands on the cold wooden railing and leaned forward. For a second, she thought she heard the ocean in the distance, then she realized that it was a jet flying overhead. She sighed, wanting to ask her mother how she’d gotten to this place in her life, a thirty-eight-year-old single, childless woman. But she knew. She’d let love slip through her fingers. “I feel lost.”
“So what will you do now?”
“I don’t know. Mira asked me the same thing.”
“She has brilliance in her genes, that girl. And?”
“Maybe I’ll call him,” she said, allowing herself to think it for the first time.
“That would work. Of course, if it were me, I’d want to look in his eyes. Only then can you know.”
“He could just walk away.”
Mama looked stunned. “You hear this, Papa? Your Angela is being a coward. This is not the child I know.”
“I’ve taken some hits in the past few years, Mama.” She tried to smile. “I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
“That’s not true. The old Angela was broken by her losses. This new daughter of mine isn’t afraid.”
Angie turned, looked into her mother’s deep, dark eyes. The whole of her life was reflected back at her. She smelled Mama’s Aqua Net hair spray and Tabu perfume. It was comforting suddenly to be standing here on this deck, above this yard, with this woman. It reminded her that however much life changed, a part of it stayed the same.
Family.
It was ironic. She’d run all the way to California to put distance between her and her family. She should have known that such a thing was impossible. This family was in her blood and her bones. They were with her always, even her papa who’d gone away … and yet would always be on this deck on a cold autumn morning.
“I’m glad I came home, Mama. I didn’t even know how much I missed you all.”
Mama smiled. “We knew. Now get those pies in the oven. We have a lot more baking to do.”
SEVENTEEN
The waistband of Lauren’s school uniform was as loose as usual; still, it didn’t fit somehow. She looked at herself in the mirror and tried to tell herself that no one could tell. She felt like Hester Prynne, only the letter was a scarlet P on her stomach.
She washed and dried her hands and left the bathroom.
Classes were just getting out for the day. Students rushed past her in laughing, chattering pods of red-and-black plaid. On the last school day before a holiday, it was always this loud. She lost track of how many kids called out to her. It seemed impossible they couldn’t see how different she was now, how separate.
“Lo!” David called out to her, loping forward, his backpack dragging on the ground beside him. He dropped it when he reached her, pulled her into his arms for a hug.
She clung to him. When she finally drew back, she was trembling.
“Where were you?” he asked, nuzzling her throat.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“You heard, didn’t you? Damn it, I told everyone I wanted to surprise you.”
She looked up at him, noticing suddenly how bright his eyes were, how broad his smile. He looked ready to start laughing at any moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” If possible, his smile grew. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. They ran past the cafeteria and the library, then ducked into a shadowy alcove near the music room. The marching band was practicing. The staccato notes of “Tequila” stuttered onto the cold afternoon air.
He kissed her hard, then drew back, grinning. “Here.”
She stared down at the envelope in his hand. It had been ripped open. The upper edge was tattered. She took it from him and saw the return address.