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"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. "
"Ive taken some hits in the past few years, Mama. " She tried to smile. "Im not as strong as I used to be. "
"Thats not true. The old Angela was broken by her losses. This new daughter of mine isnt afraid. "
Angie turned, looked into her mothers deep, dark eyes. The whole of her life was reflected back at her. She smelled Mamas 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. Shed 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 whod gone away . . . and yet would always be on this deck on a cold autumn morning.
"Im glad I came home, Mama. I didnt 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 LAURENS SCHOOL UNIFORM WAS as loose as usual; still, it didnt 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-andblack 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 couldnt 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, didnt 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 dont know what youre 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.
Stanford University.
She barely breathed as she withdrew the letter and read the first line. Dear Mr. Haynes: We are pleased to offer you a place of admission . . .
Tears made it impossible to read the rest.
"Isnt it great?" he said, taking the letter from her. "Early decision rocks. "
"Its so early . . . no one else knows yet. "
"I guess Im just lucky. "
Lucky. Yeah. "Wow," she said, unable to look at him. There was no way she could tell him now.
"This is the beginning, Lauren. Youll get into USC or Berkeley, and well be on our way. Well be together every weekend. And holidays. "
She finally looked up at him. It felt as if miles separated them now, a distance as big as an ocean. Different colleges hardly seemed to matter. "Youre leaving tonight, arent you?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded dull, wooden.
"Thanksgiving at Uncle Fredericks. " He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, whispering, "Its only through the weekend. Then we can celebrate. "
She wanted to be happy for him. Stanford. It was what hed dreamed of. "Im proud of you, David. "
"I love you, Lauren. "
It was true. He loved her. And not in that silly high school I-just-want-to-get-laid way, either.
Yesterday that would have been enough; today she saw things differently.
It was easy to love someone when life was uncomplicated.
Last week Laurens biggest fear--and it had seemed Incredible Hulk big--had been not getting in to Stanford. Today that was the least of her worries. Soon, she would have to tell David about the baby, and from that moment on, nothing would be easy. Love least of all.
SOMEHOW LAUREN MADE IT THROUGH HER WEDNESDAY shift at the restaurant. Truthfully, she wasnt sure how she did it. Her mind was crammed so full, it didnt seem possible that she could remember a single order, let alone dozens.
"Lauren?"
She turned, found Angie standing there, smiling at her with a worried look in her eyes.
"We want you and your mother to come to Mamas house for Thanksgiving dinner. "
"Oh. " Lauren hoped her longing didnt show.
Angie moved closer. "Wed really like you to be there. "
All her life shed waited for an invitation like this. "I . . . " She couldnt seem to say no. "My mom isnt one for parties. " Unless youre offering gin and pot.
"If shes busy, come by yourself. Just think about it. Please? Everyone will get to Mamas around one oclock. " Angie handed Lauren a slip of paper. "Heres the address. It would mean a lot to us if you were there. You work at DeSarias. That makes you family. "
ON THANKSGIVING, WHEN LAUREN WOKE UP, HER VERY first thought was: You work at DeSarias. That makes you family.
For once, she had somewhere to go on this holiday, but how could she go there now, ruined and stupid? Angie would take one look at her and know. Lauren had been dreading that moment from the second she found out she was pregnant.
She was still pacing the apartment at eleven when the phone rang. She answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Lauren? Its Angie. "
"Oh. Hi. "
"I wondered if you needed a ride today. It looks like it might rain and I know that your moms car isnt running. "
Lauren sighed. It was a sound of pure longing. "No. Thanks. "
"Youll be here at one oclock, right?"
The question was asked so softly Lauren couldnt say no. She wanted it too much. "Sure. One oclock. " When she hung up, she went to her moms room and stood by the door, listening. It was quiet. Finally, she knocked. "Mom?"
There was the pinging of bedsprings, then footsteps. The door opened. Mom stood there, bleary-eyed and ashen-skinned, wearing a knee-length T-shirt that advertised a tavern. The slogan was Alcoholics serving alcoholics for 89 years. "Yeah?"
"Its Thanksgiving, remember? Were invited to dinner. "
Mom reached sideways for a pack of smokes. Lit one up. "Oh, yeah. Your boss. I thought you werent sure. "
"I . . . Id like to go. "
Mom glanced behind her--at the man in the bed, no doubt. "I think Ill hang around here. "
"But--"
"You go. Have a good time. Im not one for big to-dos, anyway. You know that. "
"They invited both of us. Itll be embarrassing to show up alone. "
Mom exhaled smoke and smiled. "No more embarrassing than showing up with me. " She looked pointedly at Laurens stomach. "Besides, youre not alone anymore. "
The door closed.
Lauren walked back to her bedroom. By twelve-fifteen, shed pulled out three outfits and changed her mind on each one. The truth was, she was thankful for the distraction of clothes. It kept her mind occupied, gave her something to think about beside the pregnancy.
Finally, she ran out of time and wore the outfit she had on: a flowing Indian print gauze skirt, a white T-shirt with black lace at the neckline, and the coat Angie had given her. She straightened her hair and brushed it back into a ponytail, then dabbed on a ti
ny amount of makeup, just enough to give her pale cheeks and even paler eyelashes some color.
She caught the twelve forty-five crosstown bus.
She was the only passenger on this Thanksgiving Day. There was something sad in it, she supposed, the very portrait of a human being without family.
Then again, it meant she had somewhere to go. Better than the people who sat home alone today, eating dinners from tinfoil trays and watching movies that made you ache for what you didnt have. All the holiday specials were like that. The movies, the parades; they all showed families coming together, enjoying the day, enjoying each other. Mothers holding . . .
babies.
Lauren sighed heavily.
It was always right there, buoyant as a cork, ready to pop to the surface of her thoughts.
"Not today," she said aloud. Why not talk to herself? There was no one here to laugh about it and scoot nervously sideways.
This would be her first ever family Thanksgiving. Shed waited a lifetime for it. She refused to let the baby ruin it for her.
At the corner of Maple Drive and Sentinel, she exited the bus. Outside, the sky was lead pipe gray. It looked more like evening than midday. Wind scraped along the ground, swirling up blackened leaves and shaking the bare trees. It wasnt raining yet, but it soon would be. A storm was coming.
She buttoned her coat against the cold and hurried down the street, reading house numbers along the way, although she hadnt needed to. When she came to the DeSaria house, she knew it instantly. The yard was perfectly trimmed and cared for. Purple cabbagelike flowers bloomed along the walkway, created a stream of color against the winter-dead ground.
The house was a beautiful Tudor-style home with leaded glass windows and a slanting shake roof and an arching brick entrance. A statue of Jesus stood by the door, his hands outstretched in greeting.
She walked down the cement path, past a fountain of the Virgin Mary, and knocked on the door.
There was no answer, though she could hear a commotion going on inside.
She rang the bell.
Again, nothing. She was about to turn and leave when the door suddenly flew open.
A tiny, blond-haired girl stood there, looking up. She wore a pretty black velvet dress with white trim.
"Who are you?" the girl asked.
"Im Lauren. Angie invited me to dinner. "
"Oh. " The girl smiled at her, then turned and ran.
Lauren stood there, confused. Cold air breezed up the back of her skirt, reminding her to shut the door.
Cautiously, she walked through the tiny foyer and paused at the edge of the living room.
It was pandemonium. There had to be at least twenty people in there. Three men stood in the corner by the picture window, drinking cocktails and talking animatedly as they watched a football game. Several teenagers sat at a game table, playing cards. They were laughing and yelling at one another. Some small kids lay on the carpet, sprawled out around the Candy Land board game like spokes on a wheel.
Afraid to walk through the crowd, she backed away from the doorway and turned around. On the other end of the small foyer was another room. In it, a few older people were watching television.
Lauren hurried through, holding her breath. No one asked who she was, and then she found herself at the doorway to the kitchen.
The aroma hit her first.