Authors: Kristin Hannah
“Are you sure they’re home?” Lauren whispered, taking his hand.
“They’re home. I told them we needed to talk.”
Mr. and Mrs. Haynes came into the room fast, as if they’d been waiting just around the corner.
Mrs. Haynes stared at Lauren’s rounded belly.
Mr. Haynes studiously avoided looking at her. He led them into the sunken living room, where everything was the color of heavy cream and nothing was out of place.
Unless, of course, you counted the pregnant girl.
“Well,” Mr. Haynes said when they’d all sat down.
“How are you feeling?” Mrs. Haynes asked. Her voice sounded strained, and she seemed unable to meet Lauren’s gaze.
“Fat but great. My doctor says everything is perfect.”
“She got a full ride to USC,” David said to his parents.
“That’s fabulous,” Mrs. Haynes said. She glanced at her husband, who leaned forward in his seat.
Lauren reached for David’s hand, held it. She felt surprisingly calm. “We’ve decided to give the baby up for adoption.”
“Thank God,” Mr. Haynes said, sighing harshly. For the first time, Lauren noticed the tenseness in his jawline, the worry in his eyes. Relief changed his face. He finally smiled.
Mrs. Haynes moved to sit beside Lauren. “That couldn’t have been an easy decision for you.”
Lauren was grateful for that. “It wasn’t.”
Mrs. Haynes started to reach for her, then withdrew her hand at the last second. Lauren had the strange impression that David’s mother was afraid to touch her. “I
think it’s for the best. You two are so young. We’ll call the lawyer and—”
“We’ve already chosen the parents,” Lauren said. “My … boss. Angie Malone.”
Mrs. Haynes nodded. Even though she was obviously relieved, she looked sad somehow. She bent forward, picked up her purse, and pulled it onto her lap. She pulled out a checkbook, wrote a check, and ripped it out, then stood up. She handed the check to Lauren.
It was for five thousand dollars.
Lauren looked up. “I can’t take this.”
Mrs. Haynes gazed down at her. Lauren saw the wrinkles through her makeup for the first time. “It’s for your college fund. Los Angeles is an expensive city. A scholarship won’t handle everything.”
“But—”
“Let me do this,” she said softly. “You’re a good girl, Lauren. On your way to becoming a good woman.”
Lauren swallowed hard, surprised by how moved she was by that simple compliment. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Haynes started to move away, then stopped and turned back. “Maybe you could give me a photograph of my—of the baby when he’s born.”
It was the first time Lauren had thought of the baby as their grandchild. “Sure,” she said.
Mrs. Haynes looked down at her. “Do you really think you can do this?”
“I have to. It’s the right thing to do.”
After that, there was nothing left to say.
It was almost midnight when Lauren got home. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a ragged sigh. She couldn’t wait to climb into bed and close her eyes. This day had left her wounded.
She touched her stomach, felt a flutter-soft kick. “Hey,” she murmured to the baby as she headed for the living room.
She was at the dining room table when she noticed the fire in the fireplace and the music coming through the speakers. It was something soft, Hawaiian-sounding. “Somewhere over the Rainbow” played on a ukulele.
Angie and Conlan were sitting in front of the fire.
“Oh,” Lauren said in surprise. “I thought you were off on a romantic getaway.”
Angie rose, walked toward Lauren. When she got closer, she held out her left hand. A huge diamond glittered. “We’re getting married again.”
Lauren squealed and threw herself into Angie’s arms. “That’s
great,
” she said, holding Angie tightly. She hadn’t realized until just then how alone she’d felt all day, how much she’d missed Angie. She had trouble letting go. “Now my baby will have a daddy, too.”
“Sorry,” she said, finally drawing back. She felt foolish; a girl who should be a woman.
She’d said “my” baby.
“Actually, Lauren, that’s what we came home to talk to you about.”
It was Conlan who’d spoken.
Lauren closed her eyes for just a moment as a wave of exhaustion moved through her. She didn’t know if she could talk about the baby anymore.
But she had no choice.
“Okay.”
Angie took her hand, squeezed it. The touch helped. Together, hand in hand, they went to the couch and sat down.
Conlan remained sitting on the hearth. He was tilted forward, with his forearms rested on his thighs. Long black hair fell across part of his face. In the firelight, his eyes looked impossibly blue.
She felt impaled by those eyes. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
“You’re just a child,” Conlan said, his voice surprisingly soft, “so I’m sorry about all this.”
Lauren smiled. “I quit being a kid a few months ago.”
“No. You had to face a grown-up thing. That’s not the same thing as being a grown-up.” He sighed. “The thing is … Angie and I are scared.”
Lauren hadn’t expected that. “I thought you wanted a baby.”
“We do,” Angie said in a tight voice. “Too much, maybe.”
“So you should be happy.” Lauren looked from Conlan to Angie. “I’m giving you—Oh.” It came to her all at once. “The other girl. The one who changed her mind.”
“Yes,” Angie said.
“I wouldn’t do that to you guys. I promise. I mean … I love you. And I love my baby.
Your
baby. I want to do the right thing.”
Angie touched Lauren’s face. “We know that, Lauren. We just want—”
“Need,” Conlan interrupted.
“—to know that you’ve thought about this. That you’re sure. It will not be an easy thing to do.”
“Will it be harder than parenting at seventeen?”
Angie’s smile was as gentle as her touch had been. “That’s an answer from your head. I asked a question of the heart.”
“None of this is easy,” Lauren said, wiping her eyes. “But I’ve thought and thought. This is the best answer. You can trust me.”
A silence followed that statement. It was broken only by a log falling in the fireplace and a shower of hissing sparks.
“We think you should see a counselor,” Conlan said at last.
“Why?”
Angie was trying to smile, as if she wanted to show that this was nothing, just another late night chat. The sadness in her eyes betrayed her. “Because I love you, Lauren, and as much as I’d love your baby to be mine, I know about where we’re headed. Where
you’re
headed. It’s one thing to decide to give up a baby. It’s another thing to do it. I want you to be
sure.
”
Lauren hardly heard anything after
I love you.
Only David had ever said those words to her before. She leaned forward and pulled Angie into a fierce hug. “I’d never hurt you,” she whispered throatily. “Never.”
Angie drew back. “I know that.”
“So you’ll see the counselor?” Conlan said, sounding more than a little afraid.
“Of course.” Lauren found her first genuine smile of the day. “I’d do anything for you.”
Angie hugged her again. In the distance, very softly, Lauren heard Conlan say, “Then don’t break her heart.”
The lawyer’s office was crowded with people. On the left side of the room, their chairs pushed close together, were the Haynes family. On the right side, Angie sat in a chair beside Conlan. Lauren’s chair was in the middle, and though there wasn’t much space between her and the others, she seemed vaguely alone, separate.
Angie got up to go to her.
Just then the lawyer strode into the room. A tall, portly man in an expensive black suit, he commanded attention when he said, “Good day, all.”
Angie sat back down.
“I’m Stu Phillips,” the lawyer said, extending his hand to Conlan, who stood instantly.
“Conlan Malone. This is my … Angie Malone.”
Angie shook the lawyer’s hand, then sat back down. She sat very still, trying not to remember the last time they’d been in a meeting like this.
I have a baby for you, Mr. and Mrs. Malone.
A teenager.
“So, young lady,” Stu said, looking gently at Lauren, “you’ve made up your mind?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Okay, then. First, let’s begin with the technicalities. I need to advise you all that it is sometimes problematic to share representation in an adoption. It’s legal in this state, but not always advisable. If something came up—a disagreement—I wouldn’t be able to represent either party.”
“Nothing will come up,” Lauren said. Her voice was stronger now. “I’ve made up my mind.”
Stu looked to Conlan. “Are you two prepared for the risks of dual representation?”
“That’s the least of our risk here, Stu,” Conlan answered.
Stu pulled some paperwork from a manila folder and slid them across the desk. “Sign these documents and we’ll proceed. They merely state that you knowingly accept the risks inherent in dual representation.”
When the documents were signed, he put them away. For the next hour, he talked about the process. Who could pay for what, what needed to be signed and by whom, the ins and outs of Washington law, the home study that would need to be done, the termination of the birth parents’ rights, the guardian ad litems that would be assigned, the time and expense of all of it.
Angie had heard it all before, and she knew that, in the end, the technicalities didn’t add up to squat. It was emotions that mattered. Feelings. You could sign all the papers in the world and make a delivery truck full of promises, but you couldn’t know how it would feel when you got there. That was why the adoption couldn’t be legally finalized before the birth. Lauren would have to hold her baby and then sign her rights away.
Angie’s heart ached at the very thought of it. She glanced to her left.
Lauren sat very quietly in the chair, with her hands clasped in her lap. Even with her rounded stomach, she looked young and innocent. The girl who’d swallowed a watermelon. She was nodding earnestly at something the lawyer asked her.
Angie wanted to go to her, kneel down beside her and hold her hand, say
You’re not alone in this,
but the sad truth was that soon Lauren
would
be alone. What could be more solitary than giving your baby away?
And nothing Angie could do could protect Lauren from that moment.
Angie closed her eyes. How could they get through all of this with their hearts intact? How—
She felt a tug on her sleeve. She blinked, glanced sideways.
Conlan was staring at her. So was the attorney, Lauren, and everyone in the room.
“Did you ask me something?” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up.
“As I was saying,” Stu said, “I like to make an adoption plan. It makes everything go much smoother. Shall we begin?”
“Certainly,” Angie said.
Stu looked from Angie to Lauren. “What kind of communication do you want to have, after the adoption?”
Lauren frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After the Malones adopt your child, you’ll want some kind of communication, I imagine. Phone calls on the baby’s birthday and perhaps Christmas. Letters and photographs at least once a year.”
Lauren drew in a sharp breath. It sounded like a gasp. She obviously hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t realized that this adoption would change who they all were. She turned to look at Angie, who suddenly felt as fragile as a winter leaf.
“We’ll be in touch all the time,” Angie said to the attorney, hearing the catch in her voice. “We’re … Lauren is like family.”
“I’m not sure that kind of openness is in the best interest of the child,” the lawyer said. “Clearly delineated boundaries are most effective. We find that—”
“Oh,” Lauren said, biting down on her lip. She wasn’t listening to the lawyer. She was looking at Conlan and Angie. “I hadn’t thought about that. A baby needs one mother.”
David leaned over and took Lauren’s hand in his.
“We don’t have to have an adoption like everyone else’s,” Angie said. She would have said more but her voice softened, cracked, and she couldn’t think of anything. She couldn’t imagine letting Lauren just walk out of their lives … but what other end was there to all of this?
Lauren looked at her. The sadness in the girl’s dark eyes was almost unbearable. For once she looked old, ancient even. “I didn’t realize … I should have.” She tried to smile. “You’re going to be the perfect mom, Angie. My baby is lucky.”
“Our baby,” David said softly. Lauren gave him a heartbreakingly sad smile.
Angie sat there a moment longer, unsure of what to say.
Finally, Lauren looked at the lawyer again. “Tell me how it works best?”
The meeting went on and on; words were batted back and forth and committed to paper, black marks that delineated how each of them could behave.
All the while Angie wanted to go to Lauren and take the girl in her arms and whisper that it would be all right.
But now, sitting here in this room of laws and rules, surrounded by hearts that didn’t quite know what to feel, she wondered.
Would it be all right?
For the first time in anyone’s memory, it didn’t rain on Easter Sunday. Instead, the sun rose high in a clear blue sky. The sidewalks were full of people, most of them dressed in their Sunday best as they walked in all different directions to their churches.
Angie walked between Conlan and Lauren. Up ahead,
the church bells started to peal. Her friends and family started toward the church, funneling inside.
Just outside the doors, Angie paused. Conlan and Lauren had no choice but to pause, too.
“We’ll tell them everything later. At the Easter egg hunt, right?”
They both nodded.
Angie felt for her wedding ring, twisted it around to hide the diamond. Such a trick wouldn’t fool the DeSaria women for long, but hopefully, they’d be too busy with the mass to notice. She took a step forward.
Lauren stopped her with a touch.
“What is it, honey?” There was a look in Lauren’s eyes that Angie couldn’t read. A kind of awe, perhaps, as if going to church with the family was a rare gift. Or maybe it was anxiety. They were all nervous about what would come next. “Here, take my hand.”