T 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 De-Saria 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."

"Thanks," Lauren said, looking away quickly, but not before Angie saw the girl's sudden tears. Hand in hand, they walked up the concrete steps and into the beautiful old church.

The service seemed to take forever and still not last long enough. Angie concentrated on helping Lauren rise and kneel and rise again.

When Angie got her chance to pray, she knelt on the padded riser, bowed her head, and thought: Dear God, please show us the right way through all of this. Keep us safe. Protect and watch over Lauren. In this I pray, Amen.

After services were over, they all went downstairs to the basement of the church, where dozens of cakes and cookies were set out on the tables. Angie kept her left hand in her pocket as she talked to family and friends.

Finally the kids streamed into the hall, all talking at once, carrying the egg-carton-and-macaroni jewelry boxes they'd made.

The congregation began moving to the doors. They walked out into the cold, bright morning, a crowd of well-dressed people with something in common. They crossed the street and went into the park.

Angie started at the empty merry-go-round. Sunlight made it glisten like sterling silver.

Conlan came up beside her, slipped an arm around her waist. She knew he was thinking of Sophie, too. How many times had they stood here together, watching other children play and dreaming of their own? Saying quietly to each other: Someday.

Kids jumped onto the merry-go-round, set it spinning.

"Okay, kids," said Father O'Houlihan in his lilting Irish brogue, "there are eggs hidden all 'round here. Go!"

The kids shrieked and set off in search of the hidden eggs.

Lauren went to little Dani, who stood close to Mira.

"Come on," Lauren said, attempting to kneel and then giving up. "I'll help you look." She took Dani's hand and off they went.

Within moments the whole DeSaria clan was standing together. They were like geese, Angie thought. Somehow they just floated into formation. Their conversations sounded vaguely birdlike, too, with so many voices going at once.

Angie cleared her throat.

Conlan squeezed her hand, threw her a go-for-it smile.

"I have two things to say," she said. When no one listened, she said it louder.

Mama whopped Uncle Francis in the back of the head. "Be quiet. Our Angela has something to say."

"Someday, Maria, I'm going to hit you back," Uncle Francis said, rubbing the back of his head.

Mira and Livvy moved in closer.

Angie showed off her ring.

The screams probably shattered windows all through town. The family surged forward like a wave, crashing around Angie and Conlan.

Everyone was talking at once, congratulating them and asking questions and saying they knew it all along.

When the wave receded and they were all on the shore again, it was Mama who remembered.

"What is the second thing?" she asked.

"What?" Angie said, edging toward Conlan.

"You said you had two things to tell us. What is next? You are quitting the restaurant?"

"No. Actually I think--we think--we're going to stay in West End this time. Conlan has a contract to write a book, and he's been given a weekly column for the newspaper. He can work from here."

"That's great news," Mama said.

Livvy moved closer. "So what gives, baby sis?"

Angie reached back for Conlan's hand. She held on to him, let him be her port. "We're going to adopt Lauren's baby."

This time the silence could have broken glass. Angie felt it clear to her bones.

"This is not a good idea," Mama said at last.

Angie clung to Conlan's hand. "What am I supposed to do? Say no? Watch her give the baby to strangers?"

As one, the family turned, looked at Lauren. The teenager was by the swing set, down on her hands and knees, searching through the tall grass. Little Dani was beside her, giggling and pointing. From this distance, they looked like any young mother and her daughter.

"Lauren has a big heart," Mama said, "and a sad past. It is a dangerous combination, Angela."

Livvy stepped forward. "Can you handle it?" she asked gently. The only question that really mattered. "If she changes her mind?"

Angie looked up at Conlan, who smiled down at her and nodded. Together, that look said, we can handle anything.

"Yes," she said, finding a pretty decent smile. "I can handle it. The hardest part will be saying good-bye to Lauren."

"But you'll have a baby," Mira said.

"Maybe," Mama said. "The other time--"

"This is not up for a vote," Conlan said, and that shut them up.

They all looked at Lauren again, then, one by one, they started talking about other, more ordinary things.

Angie released her breath. The storm had been faced and survived. Oh, there would be gossip through the family, burning up the phone lines as each of them dissected this news and formed an opinion. Those opinions would be tossed back and forth on a daily basis. Some of it would filter down to Angie. Most of it would not.

It didn't matter. There was nothing they could come up with that Angie hadn't worried about and foreseen.

Some things in life, though, couldn't be gone in search of. They simply had to be waited for. Like the weather. You could look on the horizon and see a bank of black storm clouds. That didn't guarantee rain tomorrow. It might just as easily dawn bright and clear.

There was no damn way to tell.

All you could do was keep moving and live your life.

CARS HAD BEEN ARRIVING STEADILY FOR THE LAST hour. Every few minutes or so the front door cracked open and new guests streamed into the house, carrying boxes of food and presents wrapped in pretty paper. There were men in the living room, watching sports on the aged television and drinking beer. At least a dozen children were clustered in the den; some were playing board games, others had Barbies dancing with Kens, and still others played Nintendo.

But the heart of the action took place in the kitchen. Mira and Livvy were busy making the antipasto trays-- provolone, roasted peppers, tuna fish, olives, bruschetta. Maria was layering homemade manicotti in porcelain baking dishes, and Angie was trying to make ricotta cream for the cannoli. In the corner, on the small kitchen table that had somehow once held the entire De-Saria family for casual meals, a three-tiered white wedding cake rose above a sea of napkins and silverware.

"Lauren," Maria said, "start setting up the buffet in the dining room."

Lauren immediately went to the little table and started picking things up. Silverware and cocktail napkins first.

She carried them into the dining room and stood there, staring at the huge table. A pale green damask tablecloth covered it. A vase full of white roses was the centerpiece.

There would be photographs taken of this table. She needed to do it right. But how?

"The silverware goes here, at the beginning," Angie said, coming up beside her. "Like this."

Lauren watched Angie arrange the silverware into a pretty pattern, and it struck her all at once, so hard that Lauren drew in a sharp breath: I'll be leaving soon.

"Are you okay, honey? You look like you've just lost your best friend."

Lauren forced a smile, said quickly, "I don't think you should be setting the table at your own wedding."

"That's the great thing about remarrying the same guy. What matters is the marriage, not the ceremony. We're only doing this for Mama." She leaned closer. "I told her not to bother, but you know my mother."

Angie went back to setting out the silverware.

Lauren felt her move slightly to the left, and it seemed suddenly as if there was a vast space between them. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

Angie's hand froze in midair, a pair of knives hung suspended above the table. The moment seemed to draw out. From the other rooms, noise surrounded them, but here, in the dining room, there was only the sound of two women breathing slowly. "I don't know," she said at last, then went back to placing silverware. "Healthy is all that matters."

"That counselor you sent me to... she said I should feel free to ask you questions. She said it's better to have everything out in the open."

"You can talk to me about anything. You know that."

"That adoption plan we made..." Lauren started to ask the question that had kept her up all last night; halfway into it, she lost her nerve.

"Yes?"

Lauren swallowed hard. "Will you stick to it? Send me letters and pictures?"

"Oh, honey. Of course we will."

Something about the way she said honey, so gently, broke Lauren's heart. She couldn't hold it inside anymore. "You'll forget me."

Angie's face crumpled at that. Tears glistened in her eyes as she pulled Lauren into her arms and said fiercely, "Never."

Lauren was the first to draw away. Instead of comforting her, the hug had only made her feel more alone. She put a hand on her belly, felt her baby's fluttery movements. She was just about to ask Angie to touch her stomach when David walked into the living room. She ran for him, let him take her in his arms.

The loneliness that had gripped her only a moment ago released its hold. She wouldn't be alone after the baby. She'd have David.

"You look great," he said.

It made her smile, even if it was a lie. "I'm as big as a house."

He laughed. "I like houses. In fact, I'm thinking about architecture as a career."

"Smart-ass."

He looped an arm around her and headed for the food. On the way there, he told her all the gossip from school. She was laughing again by the time the music started and Maria herded everyone to the backyard, where a rented white arbor was entwined with hundreds of pink silk roses.

Conlan stood beneath the arbor, wearing a pair of black Levi's and a black crewneck sweater. Father O'Houlihan was beside him, dressed in full robes.

To the strains of Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable" Angie walked down the flagstone path. She wore a white cashmere cable-knit sweater and a gauzy white skirt. Her feet were bare and the wind whipped her long, dark hair across her back. A single white rose was her bouquet.

Lauren stared at her in awe.

As Angie passed Lauren, she smiled. Their gazes met, held for the briefest moment, and Lauren thought: I love you, too.

It was crazy....

Angie handed Lauren the rose and kept walking.

Lauren stared down at the rose in disbelief. Even now, in this moment that was Angie's, she'd thought of Lauren.

"You see how lucky you are," she whispered to her baby, touching her swollen belly. "That's going to be your mom."

She wasn't sure why it made her want to cry.