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"You need help. " He said it tiredly, and no wonder. The words were old.
"Im fine. "
He stared at her for a long time. The blue eyes that had once looked at her with adoration now held an almost unbearable defeat. With a sigh, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
A few moments later it opened again. Mama stood in the doorway, her fists planted on her narrow hips. The shoulder pads on her Sunday dress were Blade Runner big and practically touched the door frame on either side. "You always did run to your room when you were sad. Or angry. "
Angie scooted sideways to make room. "And you always came running up after me. "
"Your father made me. You never knew that, did you?" Mama sat down beside Angie. The old mattress sagged beneath their weight. "He could not stand to see you cry. Poor Livvy could shriek her lungs out and he never noticed. But you . . . you were his princess. One tear could break his heart. " She sighed. It was a heavy sound, full of disappointment and empathy. "Youre thirty-eight years old, Angela," Mama said. "Its time to grow up. Your papa--God rest his soul--would have agreed with me on this. "
"I dont even know what that means. "
Mama slipped an arm around her, pulled her close. "God has given you an answer to your prayers, Angela. It is not the answer you wanted, so you dont hear. Its time to listen. "
ANGIE WOKE WITH A START. THE COOLNESS ON HER cheeks was from tears.
Shed had the baby dream again; the one in which she and Conlan stood on opposite shores. Between them, on the shimmering expanse of blue sea, was a tiny pink-swaddled bundle. Inch by inch, it floated away and disappeared. When it was gone, they were left alone, she and Conlan, standing too far apart.
It was the same dream shed been having for years, as she and her husband trudged from doctors office to doctors office, trying one procedure after another. Supposedly she was one of the lucky ones; in eight years, shed conceived three children. Two had ended in miscarriage; one--her daughter, Sophia--had lived for only a few short days. That had been the end of it. Neither she nor Conlan had the heart to try again.
She eased away from her husband, grabbed her pink chenille robe off the floor, and left the bedroom.
The shadowy hallway waited for her. To her right, dozens of family photographs, all framed in thick mahogany, covered the wall. Portraits of five generations of DeSarias and Malones.
She looked down the long hallway at the last, closed door. The brass knob glinted in moonlight from the nearby window.
When was the last time shed dared to enter that room?
God has given you an answer. . . . Its time to listen.
She walked slowly past the stairs and the vacant guest room to the final door.
There she drew in a deep breath and exhaled it. Her hands were trembling as she opened the door and went inside. The air felt heavy in here, old and musty.
She turned on the light and closed the door behind her.
The room was so perfect.
She closed her eyes, as if darkness could help. The sweet notes of Beauty and the Beast filled her mind, took her back to the first time shed closed the door on this room, so many years ago. It was after theyd decided on adoption.
We have a baby, Mrs. Malone. The mother--a teenager--chose you and Conlan. Come down to my office and meet her.
It had taken Angie the full four hours until their appointment to choose the outfit and do her makeup. When she and Conlan finally met Sarah Dekker in the lawyers office, the three of them had bonded instantly. Well love your child, Angie had promised the girl. You can trust us.
For six wonderful months Angie and Conlan had given up trying to get pregnant. Sex had become fun again; theyd fallen effortlessly back in love. Life had been good. There had been hope in this house. Theyd celebrated with their families. Theyd brought Sarah into their home and shared their hearts with her. Theyd accompanied her to every OB appointment. Two weeks before her due date, Sarah had come home with some stencils and paint. She and Angie had decorated this room. A sky blue ceiling and walls, crowded by puffy white clouds. White picket fencing entwined with bright flowers, their colorful faces attended to by bees and butterflies and fairies.
The first sign of disaster had come on the day Sarah went into labor. Angie and Conlan had been at work. Theyd come home to an empty, too-quiet house, with no message on the answering machine and no note on the kitchen table. Theyd been home less than an hour when the phone rang.
Theyd huddled by the phone together, holding hands, crying with happiness when they heard of the birth. It had taken a moment for the other words to register. Even now, Angie only remembered bits and pieces of the conversation.
Im sorry--
changed her mind
back with her boyfriend
keeping the baby
