“Until she just didn’t show up for three days,” Mama said. “For all we know, she was on a crime spree.”
Livvy laughed. “Right. Driving from town to town, robbing mini-marts, stopping only long enough to refill her ammo and take a math test.”
Angie moved nervously from foot to foot. She hadn’t expected such a reaction to the moving-in news.
What came next would be a different matter. The word ballistic came to mind.
“Angie,” Mira said, moving closer, studying her. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”
Angie winced.
“What? You’re keeping secrets, too?” Mama made a snorting sound. “You know Papa will tell me everything.”
Angie was cornered. There was nothing she could do. Pregnancy wasn’t the kind of secret that stayed secret. She glanced down the row of women, then said, “There is one more thing. Lauren’s pregnant.”
Ballistic turned out to be an understatement.
The argument had gone on for hours. By the time it came to a tired, sputtering end, Mama had called in reinforcements. Both of Angie’s brothers-in-law were there, along with Aunt Giulia and Uncle Francis. Everyone in the room had an opinion on whether Angie was making a mistake.
In a move that surprised everyone, Livvy voiced the lone dissent. “Let her do what she wants,” she said sometime in the second hour. “None of us knows what it’s like for her.”
That had brought the pseudo–town meeting to a crashing halt. At the oblique reference to Angie’s childlessness, everyone looked quickly away.
Angie shot Livvy a grateful look. Livvy winked and smiled back.
Then it started up again.
Angie couldn’t stand it anymore. While they were arguing the pros and cons of the decision, she slipped out of the room and went upstairs.
In her old room, she closed the door. The blessed silence soothed her. She figured she had about six minutes of solitude before Mama or Mira came after her.
Less.
The door opened. Mama stood in the doorway, wearing her disappointed face. It was a look her daughters knew by heart. “Two minutes,” Angie noted, scooting sideways on the bed. “That’s a new record.”
Mama closed the door behind her. “I sent everyone home.”
“Good.”
Mama sighed, then sat down on the bed beside Angie. The old springs pinged beneath their weight. “Your papa—God rest his soul—would have yelled at you tonight. Him, you would have listened to.”
“Papa never yelled at us. You did.”
Mama laughed. “He didn’t have to yell. He let me rant and rave for a while and then he drew a line in the sand. ‘That’s enough, Maria,’ he’d say.” She paused. “It’s hard now, with no lines in the sand.”
Angie leaned against her mother. “I know.”
Mama laid her wrinkled hand on Angie’s thigh. “I worry about you, that’s all. It is a mother’s job.”
“I know. And I love you for it.”
“You will be careful, yes? I have seen your heart broken too many times already.”
“I’m stronger now, Mama. Honestly, I am.”
“I hope so, Angela.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Lauren was awake long before the alarm clock sounded. She’d gotten up around five to go to the bathroom, and after that, she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. She would have started cleaning, but she didn’t want to wake Angie.
It was so quiet here. The only sounds were the surf whooshing against the sand and rocks and the occasional tapping of wind against the windowpane.
No car horns honking, no neighbors screaming at one another, no bottles breaking on the sidewalks.
In a bed like this, with heaping blankets and a down comforter, a girl felt safe.
She glanced over at the clock. It was six. Still dark outside. In these first weeks of winter, the days were short. If she’d been going to Fircrest on this Monday morning, she would have needed to wear her woolen tights with the uniform.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Today would be her first day at West End High. A pregnant transfer student who would be around only until the end of the semester. The popular girls were sure to love her.
She threw the covers back and got out of bed. Gathering her stuff together, she went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, then carefully dried her hair until it lay straight.
Back in the bedroom, she searched her drawers for something to wear.
Nothing seemed right for the first day at a new school.
Finally, she settled on a pair of flare-legged, low-rise jeans with a fringed suede belt and a white sweater. As she was putting the sweater on, one of her hoop earrings popped free and skittered across the floor.
David had given her those earrings for her last birthday.
She dropped to the floor and started looking, spreading her hands across the boards.
There it was.