The Things We Do for Love

She barely had a voice. "Ive never heard of it. "

He stood up beside her. "Bogart and Bacall? The greatest screen pair of all time? Thats criminal. Come on. Lets go. "

MAY ROARED ACROSS WESTERN WASHINGTON. DAY AFTER day dawned bright and hot. All over town roses burst into fragrant bloom. Overnight, it seemed, the baskets that hung along Driftwood Way went from spindly, gray, and unnoticeable, to riotous cascades of color. Purple lobelia, red gardenia, yellow pansies, and lavender phlox. The air smelled of fresh flowers, and salt water, and kelp baking beneath a hot sun.

People came out of their homes slowly, blinking mole-like at the brightness. Kids ripped open their closets and burrowed through everything, looking for last years cutoffs and a shirt without sleeves or a fleece lining. Later, their mothers stood in those same bedrooms, hands on hips, staring at the piles of winter clothes, hearing the whirl of bike wheels outside and the laughter of children whod been hiding from the rain for too many months.

Soon--after Memorial Day--the town would begin to fill up with tourists. They would arrive in hordes, by car, by bus, by recreational vehicle, carrying their fishing gear, reading tide charts. The empty stretch of sandy beach would call out to them inexorably, drawing them to the sea in words so old and elemental the visitors could no longer say what had brought them here. But come they would.

To those who had lived in West End always, or to those who had survived a few wet winters, the tourists were good news/bad news. No one doubted that their money kept this town going, fixed the roads and bought the school supplies and paid the teachers. They also caused traffic and crowds and lines ten people long at the grocery checkout.

On the first Saturday in May, Lauren woke up early, unable to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. She slipped into clothes--a pair of elephant-waisted stretch leggings and a gauzy tent blouse with bell-shaped sleeves--then looked out her bedroom window.

The sky was a beautiful lavender-pink that seemed to backlight the black trees. She decided to go outside. She felt closeted-in here, too confined. She tiptoed past Angie and Conlans closed door.

She crept downstairs, grabbed the soft angora blanket off the sofa, and went outside. The gentle, lapping sound of the surf was an instant balm to her ragged nerves. She felt herself calming down, breathing evenly again.

She stood at the porch railing for all of ten minutes before her feet started hurting.

This pregnancy was really starting to suck. Her feet hurt, her heart burned, her head ached half the time, and her baby was starting to hurl through her stomach like a gymnast. The worst part of it all was the Lamaze classes that she and Angie attended every week. The pictures were terrifying. Poor David had gone to one class and begged to be let go. In truth, shed been glad to let him. She wanted Angie beside her when the time came. Lauren was pretty sure that breathing hard in a ha-ha-ha pattern wouldnt get her through the pain. Shed need Angie.

Last night shed had the dream again, the one in which she was a little girl dressed in a bright green J. C. Penney dress and holding her mothers hand. She felt so safe with that strong hand wrapped around her tiny fingers. Come on now, her dream mother said. We dont want to be late.

What they were going to be late for, Lauren didnt know. Sometimes it was church, sometimes it was school, sometimes it was a dinner with Daddy. All she knew was that she would have followed that mommy anywhere. . . .

Last night, in her dream, the woman holding her hand had been Angie.

Lauren sat down in the big old oak rocker on the porch. The curved seat seemed made for her. She sighed in comfort. Shed have to tell Angie that this would be a great place to rock the baby to sleep at night. That way she (Lauren always thought of the baby as a girl) would grow up listening to the sea. Lauren believed that would have made a difference in her life, being rocked to sleep, listening to the surf instead of neighbors fighting and cigarettes being lit.

"Youd like that, wouldnt you?" she said to her unborn baby, who kicked in response.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The gentle rocking motion was so soothing. Already today she needed that.

This was going to be a difficult day. One in which her whole life seemed to be trapped in a tiny rearview mirror. On this day last year, shed gone to the beach with her friends. The guys had played football and hacky sack while the girls soaked up the sun, wearing tiny bikinis and sunglasses. When night fell, they built a bonfire and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows and listened to music. Shed felt so safe in Davids arms that night, so certain of her place beside him in the world. Shed only just begun to worry that theyd go to different colleges. In one year shed gone from child to woman. She hoped there was a way to go back again. When she gave her baby to Angie and Conlan, Lauren would--

She couldnt quite finish that thought. It happened that way more and more often lately, this onset of panic. It wasnt the adoption. Lauren had no doubt that shed made the right choice and no doubt that shed follow through with it. The problem came after that.

She was a smart girl. Shed grilled the adoption counselor and the guardian ad litem theyd appointed for her. Shed asked every question that popped into her mind. Shed even gone to the library and read about open adoptions. They were better than the old closed adoptions--from her perspective, anyway--because she could still hear about her childs growth. Pictures. Artwork. Letters. Even the occasional visit was the norm in these new adoptions.

But the one thing all adoptions had in common finally, at the end of the day, was this: The birth mother went on with her life.

Alone.

This was the future that haunted Lauren. Shed found a home here with Angie and Conlan, a family in the De-Sarias. The thought of losing that, of being alone in the world again, was almost more than she could bear. But sooner or later she would be alone again. David would go off to college, her mother was gone, and Angie and Conlan would hardly want Lauren hanging around once theyd adopted the baby. Some things in life had a natural order that was obvious to everyone. Good-bye birth mother was one of those things.

She sighed deeply, stroking her distended stomach. What mattered was her babys happiness, and Angies. That was what she needed to remember.

Behind her, the screen door screeched open and banged shut. "Youre up early," Angie said, coming up beside her, placing a warm hand on Laurens shoulder.

"Have you ever tried to sleep on top of a watermelon? Thats what its like. "

Angie sat down on the slatted porch swing. The metal chains clanked and squeaked at her weight.

Lauren remembered a moment too late that Angie knew how it felt.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the waves below. It would have been easy--familiar--to close her eyes and lean back and pretend everything was okay. Thats what shed been doing for the past month. They all focused on the now because the future was frightening. But their time for pretense was running out. "My due date is only a few weeks away," she said, as if Angie didnt know that. "The books say youre supposed to be nesting. Maybe we should have a baby shower. "