Authors: Kristin Hannah
The doorbell rang.
“He’s here!” Lauren lurched away from the window and ran for the door, yanking it open. David stood there, wearing his red and white letterman’s jacket and a pair of old jeans. He held a bouquet of red roses.
She threw her arms around him. When she drew back, laughing at her own desperation, her hands were trembling and tears stung her eyes. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
She took his hand, led him into the cottage. “Hey, Angie. You remember David.”
Angie walked toward them. Lauren felt a swell of pride at the sight of her. She looked so beautiful in her black clothes, with her flowing dark hair and movie star smile. “It’s good to see you again, David. Did you have a nice Christmas?”
He kept his arm around Lauren. “It was okay. Aspen’s great if you wear fur and drink big martinis. I missed Lauren.”
Angie smiled. “That must be why you called so much.”
“Was it too much? Did I—”
“I’m just teasing you,” Angie said. “You know I want Lauren home by midnight, right?”
Lauren giggled. A
curfew.
She must be the only kid in the world who was pleased by that.
He looked down at Lauren, obviously confused. “What do you want to do? Go see a movie?”
Lauren wanted to
be
with him; that was all. “Maybe we could play cards here. Or listen to music.”
David frowned, glanced at Angie, who said quickly, “I’ve got work to do upstairs.”
Lauren loved her for that. “What do you think, David?”
“Sure.”
“Okay,” Angie said. “There’s food in the fridge and pop in the carport. Lauren, you know where the popcorn maker is.” She looked pointedly at David. “I will be walking through every now and then.”
Lauren should have been irritated by that, but in truth, she loved how it made her feel. Cared for. Cared about. “Okay.”
Angie said good night, then went upstairs.
When they were alone, Lauren took the flowers and put them in a vase. As soon as she finished, she got his present from the kitchen and took it to him. “Merry Christmas.”
They settled into the big overstuffed sofa, cuddled up to one another. “Open it,” she said.
He unwrapped the small box. Inside lay a small gold St. Christopher medal.
“It’ll protect you,” Lauren said, hearing the catch in her voice. “When we’re apart.”
“You might get into Stanford,” he said, but there was no conviction in his words.
He took a deep breath, then let it out.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I know we’ll be apart. Our love can take it.”
He looked down at her. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautifully wrapped package.
It wasn’t a ring box.
She took it from him, surprised at how unsteady she suddenly felt as she unwrapped the present. She hadn’t known until just now—this second—that she’d expected a proposal tonight. Inside the box lay a pair of tiny diamond heart earrings, suspended from thread so delicate it looked like fishing wire. “They’re beautiful,” she said in a shaky voice. “I never thought I’d own diamond earrings.”
“I wanted to buy you a ring.”
“These are great. Really.”
“My mom and dad don’t think we should get married.”
So they were going to have to talk about it. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Remember that lawyer my dad wanted to talk to?”
“Yeah.” It took everything she had to keep smiling.
“He says there are people who would love this baby. People who would want it.”
“Our baby,” she said softly.
“I can’t be a father,” he said, looking so sad and beaten that she wanted to cry. “I mean. I
am
one. I know that, but …”
She touched his face, wondering how long the pain of this moment would linger. She felt a dozen years older than him right now. It was clear suddenly that this might ruin them.
She longed to tell him
okay,
that she’d follow his parents’ plan and give the baby away and go on with all the things they’d planned. But she didn’t know if she could do it. She leaned toward him. In the firelight, his watery eyes were hardly blue at all. “You should go to Stanford and forget about all of this.”
“Just talk to the lawyers, okay? Maybe they’ll know something.” His voice cracked and that tiny little sound ruined her resolve. He was almost crying.
She sighed. It was a small, tearing sound, like muscle ripping away from the bone. “Okay.”
Lauren closed her textbook and looked up at the clock.
2:45.
2:46.
She let her breath out in a nervous sigh. All around her kids were laughing and talking as they got their things together and headed out of the classroom. There was a lot of energy in school this week. That was to be expected. Finals began on Monday. In different—normal—times, Lauren would have been as keyed up as the rest of them. But now, in this third week of January, she had bigger worries. By this time next week, while her friends were looking for their new classrooms, she’d be done with high school. A graduate.
She reached down for her backpack and put her book and notebook away. Slinging the heavy pack in place, she headed out of the classroom. Merging into the crowded hallway, she forced herself to smile at friends, to talk and carry on as if this were any other day.
All the while she was thinking:
I should have asked Angie to come with me today.
Why hadn’t she?
Even now she wasn’t sure.
She stopped at her locker and got her coat. She was
just about to slam it shut when David came up behind her and tugged.
“Hey,” he whispered against her neck.
She leaned into him. “Hey.”
He slowly turned her around until she was facing him. His smile was irritatingly bright. This was the happiest he’d looked since she’d told him about the baby. “You look happy.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and it made her wince. She sounded exactly like her mother.
“I’m sorry.”
But he didn’t know why he was sorry or what he’d done wrong. She wondered if from now on he’d start handling her with care. She forced another smile. “Don’t be. My moods change faster than the weather. So. Where do we go?”
His relief was as obvious as the confusion had been. He smiled, but there was a new wariness in his eyes, too. “My house. Mom thought that would be more comfortable for you.” He put his arm around her, tucked her against his side.
She kicked her locker shut and let herself be swept through the campus and into his car.
In the few miles between Fircrest Academy and Mountainaire, they talked about things that didn’t matter. Gossip. The graduation night party. Hookups. Lauren tried to focus on that, the bits and pieces of ordinary high school life, but when David pulled up to the guardhouse, she drew in a sharp breath.
The gate swung open.
She coiled her hands together and looked out the window at the big, beautiful homes.
For the last few years, as she’d come into this enclave of the rich, she’d seen only the beauty of it. She’d dreamed of belonging in a place like this. Now she wondered
why people with so much money didn’t choose to live on the water, or why they wouldn’t want to be in the busy neighborhood where the DeSarias lived. There, the streets seemed alive. Here, everything was too contained, too clipped and perfected. How could real life—and real love—grow in so confined a space?
As they pulled up to the curb in front of the Hayneses’ mammoth home, she found herself wondering what the three of them did with all the empty spaces in their house.
David parked the car, then turned to her. “You ready for this?”
“No.”
“You want to cancel?”
“Absolutely not.” She climbed down from the passenger seat and headed for the house. Halfway there, David came up beside her and took her hand in his. The support eased some of the butterflies in her stomach.
At the door, they both paused. Then David opened the door and led her inside.
The house was quiet, as usual. The very opposite of the DeSaria home.
“Mom? Dad?” David called out, shutting the door behind them.
Mrs. Haynes came around the corner, wearing a winter white wool dress. Her auburn hair had been drawn back in a tight bun. She looked thinner than the last time Lauren had seen her, and older.
Lauren could understand why. In the past weeks, she’d learned how life could mark a person. “Hello, Mrs. Haynes,” she said, moving forward.
Mrs. Haynes looked at her. A sadness tugged ever so slightly at her painted lips. “Hello, Lauren. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Thank you for agreeing to come today. David has told us it’s difficult for you.”
David squeezed her hand.
Lauren knew this was the time to say something, maybe state her opinion, but when she tried, nothing came out. She nodded instead.
Just then Mr. Haynes walked into the room. Dressed in a navy blue double-breasted suit and pale yellow shirt, he looked every bit the power player who was used to getting his way in the boardroom. Beside him was a heavyset man in a black suit.
“Hello, Lauren,” Mr. Haynes said, not bothering to smile. He didn’t look at his son. “I’d like you to meet Stuart Phillips. He’s a well-respected attorney who specializes in adoption.”
That was all it took, just the word being spoken aloud, and Lauren started to cry.
Mrs. Haynes was beside her instantly, handing her a tissue, murmuring something about everything being okay.
But it wasn’t okay.
Lauren wiped her eyes, muttered, “Sorry,” and let herself be led into the living room. There, they all sat down on the expensive cream-colored furniture. She worried that her tears would stain the fabric.
There was a moment of awkward silence before the lawyer started to talk.
Lauren listened, or at least she tried to. Her heart was beating so loudly that sometimes she couldn’t hear anything else. Bits and pieces drifted toward her, sticking like flotsam in the net of her mind.
best decision for the child
another family/another mother
better able to parent
termination of rights
college is best for you now
too young
When it was over and the lawyer had said everything he’d come to say, he sat back in his chair and smiled easily, as if those words had been sounds and breath, nothing more. “Do you have any questions, Lauren?”
She looked around the room.
Mrs. Haynes looked ready to burst into tears and David was pale. His blue eyes were narrowed with worry. Mr. Haynes was tapping his armrest.
“You all think I should do this,” Lauren said slowly.
“You’re too young to be parents,” Mr. Haynes said. “David can’t remember to feed the dog or make his bed, for God’s sake.”
Mrs. Haynes shot her husband a withering look, then smiled at Lauren. It was sad, that smile, and full of knowing. “There’s no easy answer here, Lauren. We know that. But you and David are good kids. You deserve a chance in life. Parenthood is hard work. You need to think about the baby, too. You want to give your child every opportunity. I tried to discuss all this with your mother, but she didn’t return my calls.”
“Believe me, young lady,” the lawyer said, “there are dozens of wonderful people who would love and adore your baby.”
“That’s the point,” Lauren said so quietly that everyone leaned forward to hear her. “It’s my baby.” She turned to David. “Our baby.”
He didn’t move, didn’t look away. To someone who didn’t know him, he might have appeared unaffected. But to Lauren, who’d loved him so long, everything in his eyes changed. His face seemed to crumple into disappointment.
“Okay,” he said, as if she’d asked a question. She
knew then—as she’d known before—that he’d stand by her, back up her choices.
But he didn’t want this. To him it wasn’t a baby, it was an accident. A mistake. If it were up to him, they’d sign a few papers, hand over the baby, and move on.
If she didn’t make that choice, she’d ruin his life as much as her own. Maybe the child’s, too.
She drew in a heavy breath, exhaled it slowly. She should break up with David. If she loved him enough, she’d set him free from all of this.
The thought of that, of losing him, paralyzed her with fear.
She looked around the room, saw everyone’s expectation, and she was beaten.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
The suddenness of David’s smile broke her heart.
“All right,” Angie said, coming into the living room. “Do you hear the timer on the stove?”
“It’s beeping,” Lauren said, pulling her knees up to her chest. She was sitting on the floor in front of the fire.
“Yes, it is, and do you know why?”
“Dinner is ready?”
Angie rolled her eyes. “I realize I’m not the best chef in the world, but even I don’t take my dinner out of the oven at eleven in the morning.”
“Oh. Right.” Lauren stared down at her hands. She’d chewed her nails down to the quick.
Angie knelt down in front of her. “You’ve been moping around this house for too long. I brought home your favorite pizza last week when you graduated and you hardly touched it. Last night you went to bed at seven o’clock. I’ve been patient, waiting for you to talk to me, but—”
“I’ll go clean my room.” She started to get up.
Angie stopped her with a touch. “Honey. Your room couldn’t be any cleaner. That’s all you’ve been doing in the last few days. Working and cleaning your room and sleeping. What’s going on?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“So it’s the baby.”
Lauren heard the tiny crack in Angie’s voice when she said
baby.
“I don’t want to talk to you about it.”
Angie sighed. “I know. And I know why. But I’m not that fragile anymore.”
“Your sisters say you are.”
“My sisters talk too much.”
Lauren looked at her. The understanding in Angie’s eyes was her undoing. “How did you handle it? Losing Sophia, I mean.”
Angie sat back on her heels. “Wow. No one ever asks me that head-on.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. We’re friends. We can talk about our lives.”