The Things We Do for Love

Now and then in the coming months, she would be pulled up short by loss and longing. Shed known that when she offered Lauren a place to live. Some dreams did not go away easily, and undreaming them could last a lifetime. This she knew.

She threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom. After a long, hot shower, she felt better again. Ready to face the difficult day ahead. And there was no doubt that it would be difficult.

For Laurens sake, she would get through it. She was making her bed when she heard Lauren call out her name.

Angie went to the bedroom door, opened it, and yelled, "What?"

"Breakfast is ready. "

She hurried downstairs and found Lauren in the kitchen, stirring oatmeal.

"Good morning," Lauren said brightly.

"Youre up early. "

"Its not early. " Lauren looked up. "Did you have another bad night?"

"No. No," Angie answered quickly, wishing shed never mentioned that sometimes sleep evaded her.

Lauren smiled, obviously relieved. "Good. " She carried over two bowls of oatmeal and set them on the table, one on each blue placemat, then sat down opposite Angie. "Your mother told me I needed to eat more fiber and taught me how to make oatmeal. "

Angie doctored her bowl in the DeSaria way--brown sugar, maple syrup, raisins, and milk--and tasted it. "Fabulous," she declared.

"Of course Mira told me to eat lots of protein and Livvy took me aside and said that carbohydrates would make the baby strong. I guess Im supposed to eat everything. "

"Thats my familys answer to every question in life: Eat more. "

Lauren laughed. "My doctors appointment is at ten oclock this morning. The bus leaves--"

"What on earth makes you imagine Ill let you take a bus to see the doctor?"

"I know this is hard for you. "

Angie considered a smart-ass answer, but when she looked into Laurens earnest face, she said, "Life is full of hard choices, Lauren. I want to go to the doctors with you. "

After that, their conversation veered back onto familiar, everyday roads. As they stood side by side, washing dishes, they talked about the restaurant, the weather, the schedule for the rest of the week. Lauren told a funny story about her latest date with David, and an even funnier one about Mama.

By the time they reached the doctors office, Angie was tense again.

She paused at the clinic door, trying not to make this about her.

Lauren touched her arm. "Do you want to wait in the car?"

"Absolutely not. " Forcing a smile, however unnatural it felt, she opened the door and stepped into the medicinal-smelling office.

Memories came at her hard. Shed been in too many rooms like this one, put on too many flimsy gowns and put her feet into too many cold stirrups. For years, it seemed like all she had done . . .

She kept moving across the room, one step at a time. At the receptionists desk, she held onto the Formica ledge. "Lauren Ribido," she said.

The receptionist flipped through the stack of manila-foldered charts and pulled one out. Then she handed a clipboard to Angie. "Here. Fill this out and return it to me. "

Angie stared down at the familiar form. Start date of your last period . . . number of previous pregnancies . . . gone to term . . . Slowly, she handed it to Lauren.

"Oh," the receptionist said, frowning. "Im sorry. I assumed--"

"Dont worry about it," Angie said quickly. She led Lauren over to the bank of chairs along the wall. They sat down side by side.

Lauren began filling out the form.