The Things We Do for Love

"You told her what really mattered. And she heard you. I guarantee it. "

"I dont think so, Con. "

"I know so. When she had the baby, you told Lauren you loved her and you were proud of her. Someday, when she stops hating herself for what she had to do, shell remember that. And shell be back. Maybe her mother didnt teach her about love, but you did. Sooner or later, shell figure that out. "

He could always do it; say just the right thing she needed to hear. "Have I told you how much I love you, Conlan Malone?"

"Youve told me. " He glanced over at the oven. "How long does that thing bake?"

She wanted to smile. "Fifty minutes. "

"Thats definitely enough time to show me. Maybe even twice. "

ANGIE KISSED HER SLEEPING HUSBAND AND ROLLED out of bed, careful not to disturb him. Dressing in gray sweats, she left the room.

It was so quiet downstairs. Shed forgotten that. The silence.

A teenager made so much noise . . .

"Where are you?" she whispered out loud, hugging herself. The world out there was so damned big and Lauren was so young. A dozen bad ends came to her, flashed through her mind like images in a horror film.

She headed toward the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She was halfway there when she saw the box. It was in the hallway, tucked in close to the wall. Conlan must have got it out of the laundry yesterday morning before theyd gone to the hospital.

Yesterday: when everything had been different.

She knew she should turn away from it, pretend she hadnt seen it. But that was the way of her former self, and no good came of not looking.

She went to the box, knelt beside it, and opened it up.

The Winnie-the-Pooh lamp lay on top, cradled in a pink cotton blanket.

Angie pulled it out, held it. The amazing thing was that she didnt cry, didnt ache for the lost baby for whom this lamp had been bought. Instead, she carried it to the kitchen and set it on the table.

"There," she said. "Its waiting for you, Lauren. Come home and pick it up. "

Her only answer was silence. Now and then the old house creaked and in the distance the ocean grumbled and whooshed, but here, in this house that had gone from three inhabitants to two, it was still.

She walked out to the porch, stared down at the ocean. She was so intent on the water that it took her a moment to see the girl standing in the trees.

Angie ran down the steps and across the wet grass, almost falling twice.

Lauren stood there, unsmiling, her eyes swollen and red. She tried to smile. Failed.

Angie wanted to throw her arms around Lauren, but something stopped her. There was a look in the girls eyes that was harrowing. Her mouth trembled.

"We were so worried about you," Angie said, moving a step closer.

Lauren looked down at the baby in her arms. "I know I promised him to you. I just . . . " She looked up. Tears filled her eyes.

"Oh, Lauren. " At last, Angie closed the gap between them. She touched Laurens damp cheek in the gentle kind of caress shed dared so easily in the past. "I should have told you more about what it was like. Its just . . . it was so hard to think about the day I had Sophie. The few minutes I held her. I knew when you looked into your babys eyes, youd be as lost as I was. Thats why I never decorated the nursery. I knew, honey. "

"You knew Id keep him?"

"I was pretty sure. "

Laurens face crumpled just a little, her lips trembled and curved downward. "But you stayed with me. I thought--"

"It was you, Lauren. Dont you know that? Youre part of our family. We love you. "