"I would shut up, Mel, if you would just get me that epidural. And a doctor. I'd definitely shut up for a doctor. These labor pains are"-she gasped as another one took hold and shook her from the inside out-"painful!"

"I believe that's why they call them labor pains and not labor *owies,' " Melanie said. "You're just lucky that Scarlett Leigh didn't poke fun at the act of giving birth or I'd turn all the other laboring women loose on you."

"Mel, please! If I had a white flag, I'd wave it. I can't fight with you and give birth at the same time." She panted. "Oh, G.o.d, don't they have surrogates for this? I could really use a stand-in right now."

"All right," Melanie said and moved closer. "But later you'll have a lot to answer for."

"What do we have here?" The voice was male and jovial, but it did not belong to Dr. Gilbert. The doctor who strolled in, not at all in a rush as far as Vivien could see, was Dr. Summers. And he was looking not at Vivi, who lay panting and miserable on the bed, but at Melanie.

"I need an epidural," Vivi said through the useless panting and breathing. "Now!"

"Well, now," he said, barely able to take his eyes off Melanie. "Why don't we take a look and see what's what?"

A nurse appeared to help Vivi into position, and a sheet was drawn up over her knees as Dr. Summers sat down on a stool and slid into place.

"It won't be long now," he said. "You're dilating nicely. You may not even need . . ."

"Doctor," Vivien said through teeth that were clenched against the oncoming locomotive of pain. "I want the epidural. Now. Sooner would be even better."

Melanie moved closer, but which one of them she was approaching was unclear. "Maybe you don't need it, Vivi. Maybe Bruce is right and . . ."

"I want my epidural now!" she repeated and mercifully an anesthesiologist appeared. Careful not to look at the large needle she'd made the mistake of reading about, Vivi let him lean her forward and swab a spot near the base of her spine.

After that the pain went away and left her alone. She could still feel the contractions, could tell something was happening, but it was all happening at an acceptable distance, muted and manageable. Her mind cleared, now that it wasn't running in fear from the onrush of pain, and she actually conversed with the doctor whom her sister kept calling Bruce and who tried, rather unsuccessfully, to act as interested in her and the baby he was delivering as he was in Melanie.

VIVI LAY WITH her son cradled against her chest. He was tiny and perfect and he had a wizened face that looked an awful lot like a prune.

"He's beautiful," Melanie said. She and the kids stood next to Vivien's bed, peering down at the two of them. Her and her son. She thought the words for the first time and they didn't frighten her as she'd thought they would.

"He looks kind of like a little old man," Trip said. "Or a wrinkly peanut. Why is he making that face and scrunching all up like that?"

"He's going to the bathroom, stupid," Shelby said. She put a finger out, and the baby grasped it instinctually in one of his tiny hands.

Vivien looked up at them. They all appeared as sh.e.l.l-shocked as she felt. In so many ways their lives had caved in today, the bedrock on which their family had been built crumbling all around them. When she looked into her sister's eyes, she saw fresh pain mixed with an old sadness, and she had to look away.

"I called Mom and Dad. I just thought they should know they had a new grandson," Melanie said, reaching out to cup the baby's head. "And I left another voice mail for Stone. And one for Marty, like you asked me to."

"Has Stone called back?" Vivi asked.

"No. Not yet."

"How's Ira?" Vivi had forgotten in the throes of labor and then she'd been afraid to ask.

"He's in CCU; they're trying to get him stabilized. Ruth couldn't come to the phone, but I spoke to their son. Their daughters are flying in tonight."

"I hope he'll be all right," Vivi said as the nurse came to take the baby back to the nursery. She was so tired she could hardly speak but oddly exhilarated at the same time.

"Me, too," Melanie said and in just two words managed to remind Vivi that she held her personally responsible for Ira's heart attack. "I'll probably stop by there before I come see you tomorrow. Saint Joseph's is just around the corner. And I'd really like to get hold of Angela." The tight-lipped look she shot Vivi made it clear that the canceled wedding had been chalked up to her, too.

"Good night, Mel," Vivien said, too tired to address all that was between them. Her limbs grew heavy and her thoughts slowed. "Have to have a name for him before we leave the hospital," she murmured. "Wanted to wait for Stone, but . . . you guys'll have to help."

Melanie snorted as Vivi's eyes closed. "Only you could go through an entire pregnancy and never even think about what you were going to call your child."

Vivi half smiled at the truth of it. Denial certainly was a b.i.t.c.h, but those days were over. And then she was off and dreaming. But like her life her dreams were a mixed bag of soft baby smells and her sister's pinched face and stark stories from the nightly news that didn't come with guaranteed happy endings.

RUTH SAT IN the tiny room in CCU watching the blip of Ira's heartbeats on the monitor. Her children and three of her grandchildren waited out in the waiting room. In the first few days while they'd waited for Ira to stabilize she'd thought she'd lose her mind. Then there'd been the angioplasty, and after that a coronary artery bypa.s.s graft. Ruth could hardly keep up with the medical jargon and was grateful that she had a son-in-law who could.

Through it all Ira had floated in and out of consciousness. He was there, but he was not. And although the doctors talked in purposefully cheerful tones and described what they were doing in what should have been rea.s.suring detail, Ruth had the horrible feeling that everyone was convinced Ira was going to die.

"Don't you dare," she said to him on the morning of the fourth day as she held his hand and watched the blips pulse across the screen. "After all these years, I finally got you to dance. I'm not letting you wiggle out of it now."

There was a slight movement beneath Ira's eyelids and his lips jerked slightly, but even she wouldn't call them more than reflexive movements. No matter how long she held his hand or how hard she prayed, he rarely even opened his eyes.

"Come on, Ma," Josh stood in the doorway, his eyes sliding over his father and then scurrying away. None of them could bear how quiet and still Ira was, how small he looked in the hospital bed. As if his life force had already departed and only the husk of him remained.

She had coffee in the coffee shop, with a daughter on either side of her, and sat in the waiting room with whichever family member or friend happened to be there at the time. But she refused to go home until Ira could go with her. When she was allowed back into his cubicle, she held his hand and watched the monitor, refusing to even consider a life without him. After all these years, surely G.o.d would not let that happen. Not now when they'd finally settled their differences, when Ira had promised to sell the business and had declared that he was ready for them to sail off into the sunset together. They had places to go and people to meet. Dance compet.i.tions to enter. Ruth decided then and there that she would not let Ira off the hook. She would not let him slip away. She explained this to him in no uncertain terms over the next days.

His eyes only fluttered open on occasion and he gave no indication at all that he could hear her. But Ruth talked to him anyway, pouring out her love and her hopes and when she couldn't help it, all of her fears. The fact that he didn't appear to be listening had never stopped her before; she certainly wasn't going to let it stop her now.

37.

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS AFTER her baby was born Vivien brought him home to Melanie's. The drive from the hospital was fraught with silence; the fragile truce that had held during her labor and afterward left no room for conversation or confidences. Vivien sat beside the car seat in the back of Melanie's van and fixed her attention on the baby the entire drive, unsure what she'd do if he fussed or cried and unable to meet Melanie's accusing gaze in the rearview mirror. He slept the whole time, not even waking when Melanie showed her how to detach the carrier so that she could carry him inside.

Vivien was as tired as he was, and she was also afraid. In the hospital there'd been nurses who brought the baby to and from her and helped her try to nurse; she'd known that in an emergency there were people who'd know what to do. Now she was responsible for another human being in every possible way, and the thought of everything she didn't know how to do, from breastfeeding to changing a diaper, felt infinitely mysterious and frightening. The opportunities for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up seemed unlimited. And now when she needed it most, she didn't know if she could count on Melanie's help.

The smell of food greeted them when they stepped inside. They found Evangeline humming happily as she cooked in Melanie's kitchen. Her face broke into a smile when she saw them and she put out her arms immediately for the baby. "Isn't he precious?" she said, cuddling him to her chest and tucking his head under her chin. "He sure is a beautiful boy. And long? Between you and Stone, he's gonna be a baseketball player for sure!"

She kept the baby tucked up against her and still managed to fuss over Vivi at the same time. This was mult.i.tasking at its best.

"Is Caroline with you?" Melanie's voice was stiff as she and Vivien looked into the family room for their mother. Both of them let out sighs of relief when there was no sign of her.

"Nope," Evangeline answered. "But she did dis-invite that Matt Glazer bozo from the party she's planning and I heard your daddy on the phone with the paper getting him fired. They sent me here to you for two weeks." She shrugged as she gently repositioned the baby in the crook of her arm. "That's about as close to an apology as your mama is likely to get."

Vivien and Melanie exchanged glances. One less thing to be dealt with for now.

"Now come on and have a bite and then I'll take Vivi and her little one upstairs so they can nurse. And then I'm putting them both to bed for a nice long nap."

Evangeline handed the baby to Melanie so that she could fill their plates with heaping mounds of meat loaf and mashed potatoes and set them out on the kitchen table. Fresh-cut flowers sat on the counter and a small dresser with a changing pad on its top had been set up in an empty corner of the family room. Vivien sank into the chair with a sigh of relief. Now she had two people who knew what they were doing, and at least one of them was excited about helping. She tried not to worry about when she would hear from Stone. Who hadn't called. Or texted. Or emailed.

Or whether her sister would ever stop looking at Vivi as if she had single-handedly ruined all of their lives.

AS OFTEN AS she could Melanie held her new nephew. His powdery baby smell and great big blue eyes soothed and comforted her; the weight of him in her arms carried her back to her own first days with Shelby and Trip and the wonderful sense of completion that she'd felt. As she helped rock him to sleep or took a turn walking with him when he fussed, Melanie's mind wandered back to those days when everything had seemed so perfect.

Like a mountain climber clinging to bare rock, she held the filter through which she'd always viewed her relationship with J.J. in place and used her anger at Vivi and her sense of betrayal to keep it there. If Vivi hadn't started her "investigation," all of them would still be blissfully ignorant. Her sister had so much to answer for.

In her arms, the baby looked up at her and blinked sleepily.

"You are so wonderful," Melanie whispered to him. *But I really, really want to strangle your mother."

As if he understood completely, he blinked once more and went to sleep.

One day Melanie lost her grip and the filter slipped, allowing reality to poke through. At first this was much too painful, like opening the front door of a home you'd lived in all your life and discovering it was actually a completely unfamiliar vacation rental that belonged to someone else.

Her husband's gentle sweetness took on a new dimension now that she could no longer avoid the truth. She had considered J.J. her best friend, and when his s.e.xual interest in her had waned more quickly than she'd expected, she'd attributed it to the stress of his political career, the extent of his travel, her focus on the kids' needs and then their activities. She'd had a long list of excuses for why their relationship was more comfortable than pa.s.sionate. And she'd considered it a fair trade-off. She'd been willing to settle for J.J.'s affection and friendship, which had often seemed missing from other people's marriages.

But how real was that friendship based as it was on such a huge lie? And how could she not feel cheated now that she knew all of J.J.'s pa.s.sion had been showered on Clay Alexander?

She wasn't the only one of her family struggling with the ramifications of their newfound knowledge. For a while Melanie was afraid that Shelby's sense of outrage and betrayal would demolish the strides she'd made, tank the SAT and ACT prep, turn her sullen and angry all over again. There was moodiness and the occasional outburst, but there was something about having things out in the open that prevented them from retreating into their corners and only coming out to fight.

Having Evangeline around didn't hurt, either. If she was aware of the tension between Melanie and Vivien, she made no comment. Between the food and attention Evangeline lavished on them and the baby they all found themselves fussing over, they began to examine the revelations about J.J. in a way that Melanie hoped would one day allow them to heal.

They were sitting in the family room one night stuffed to the gills with Evangeline's fried chicken and okra, which had been washed down with what felt like gallons of sweet tea, when Trip brought up his father's h.o.m.os.e.xuality.

"I feel like he was a whole other person I didn't know. Was everything just an act?" Trip asked. "How did he get to be . . . gay?" His tone added, is it contagious?

Melanie's heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time as she contemplated her son. Her emotions were so raw she didn't trust herself to speak. She stole a look at Vivien, who sat silently in a corner of the sofa, holding the baby who'd become her entree to the family circle. None of them had been able to forgive her for destroying their memories of J.J.; neither had they been able to completely write her off.

But Vivien, who had grown increasingly silent and tentative in their midst, didn't shy away from the subject. She looked Trip straight in the eye and said, "Some people believe that h.o.m.os.e.xuality is a choice. Other people call it a sin. But I've always thought it was just something that is and that most people know that about themselves fairly early." She looked down at the baby and then back at Trip. "For what it's worth, I don't think you just wake up one day as an adult and discover you like men instead of women. Or vice versa. It's something you'd know by now."

"But can't you make it go away if you really want to?" Trip asked.

Melanie held her breath as Vivien considered her answer. She saw the flash of pain that crossed Shelby's face, but her daughter didn't look away.

"I don't know, Trip, but I don't think so," Vivi said. "I'm sure lots of people would choose an easier path if they could." She looked over at Shelby and Melanie, who were listening intently. Evangeline, who was cleaning up the kitchen, had a quiet smile on her face.

"I think your dad tried to live a more conventional life because of how much he loved you and Shelby and your mom, but he couldn't. I know this is all hurtful and confusing, and I know you've got a ton to think about. But I just don't believe his love for you is one of the things you need to question."

Vivien spoke with a complete certainty that Melanie wished she could feel. Her sister seemed different, softer somehow. And while she wasn't exactly adept at the intricacies of new motherhood, she didn't complain or shirk her responsibilities to her son. The knot of anger in Melanie's stomach loosened slightly and she let out a bit of the breath she always seemed to be holding. But she couldn't seem to dislodge it completely; every time she thought of Scarlett Leigh, or the look on Clay's face at Angela's defunct wedding, the anger reared again, landing squarely in Viv's lap.

Ruth and Angela came to visit about a week after the wedding that didn't happen. They brought gifts and took turns holding the baby until Evangeline carried him up for his nap.

Vivi was glad to see them, but she couldn't help wondering about the secretive smile that pulled at Angela's lips or the way she kept fiddling with something in the pocket of the body-hugging cream silk outfit they'd given her at Fangie's going-away party.

The smile that had been splitting Ruth's face in two was absent. She looked even more tired than Vivien felt since Little Stone, as she'd begun to think of him, had come fully awake in the days following his delivery and turned her days and nights upside down.

Melanie had been to the hospital and kept in regular touch, but the news had not been overly rea.s.suring. Ira had taken one step forward and then several back for a good part of the week.

They moved into the family room with cups of coffee and plates of Evangeline's apple cobbler.

"How's Ira?" Melanie asked once they'd consumed and exclaimed over their first few bites. "What do the doctors say?"

Ruth set down her plate and it was apparent that while she had survived the ordeal so far, her appet.i.te had not. She'd shed too many pounds too quickly, and the shadows under her eyes were dark and deep. "They say all kinds of things, but they never really seem to be saying anything. At least nothing I want to hear."

Melanie reached out to squeeze Ruth's hand as they waited for her to go on.

"But this morning he was more aware, closer to himself than he has been since his surgery." Her eyes moistened. "And when I asked him what he was doing hanging around in bed so much, he told me he'd just been resting up so he'd be ready to take me dancing." A broken smile formed on her lips. "He said he hadn't spent all that time and money learning how to dance for nothing."

The tears slid unheeded down her cheeks. "The doctors say it'll be a long recovery and he'll have to make some significant changes, but he's going to be okay."

Dabbing at her eyes and cheeks with the corner of her napkin, Ruth turned to Angela. "Your turn," she said.

"I don't know what you could mean." Angela smiled.

"I expected you to be completely pitiful, but you look like the cat that swallowed the canary." As always Ruth stated what the others had been thinking. "And you finally stopped dressing like an Italian widow from the old country."

"Yeah," Vivi said. "Spill it. Or I'll sick Evangeline on you. n.o.body holds out on her for long."

Without further prodding, Angela said, "I decided to get married after all."

There was a stunned silence as they all took this in. "Was it to anyone we know?" Melanie asked carefully.

Ruth was nowhere near as gentle. "Unbelievable. You called the whole thing off, told everybody to leave, and then married someone else?"

"Not exactly," Angela hedged.

"Exactly how was it?" Vivi asked. "And you can start with what happened after we made our spectacular exit."

"Well," Angela said as the three of them leaned forward expectantly. "After you all left for your a.s.sorted hospitals, it was pretty grim. Worse than grim actually," Angela said. "But I had to call it off. Seeing what not telling the truth was doing to Vivi's life finally pushed me to tell James everything."

"Good grief!" Melanie said.

Vivien cringed.

"When you came into the dressing room, it just all hit me. I realized I was so caught up in marrying James, in having this fairy tale *happily ever after' that you talked about that I was willing to keep the very thing that had defined me for most of my life a secret from him rather than trust him with the truth. Even though it was eating me up."

"Way to go, Vivien," Melanie said. "You were like a one-woman demolition crew that day."

"When I first rushed in and showed James that old picture of me, he looked so shocked and horrified that, well, I didn't really give him much of a chance to absorb anything. I was babbling about Fangie and how the person he was in love with didn't really exist. I mean, all the things I should have been sharing with him over the last year and a half just came pouring out of me in this horrible, uncontrollable rush." She dropped her gaze, remembering how he'd stuttered in surprise, unable to understand. "And then when he didn't immediately say, *I don't care how much you weighed, or that you didn't trust my love for you enough to tell me this, I love you more than life itself,' I called the wedding off."

A wry smile pulled at her lips. "My parents thought I'd lost my mind. Brian said telling him was good, but that my timing sucked. Susan told me I was a moron."

Ruth opened her mouth as if to concur, but Melanie gave a gentle shake of her head.

"And then I kind of holed up in my house. I couldn't eat or sleep for about forty-eight hours. I started worrying that I'd made this horrible mistake. Because James is so fabulous." Her voice broke. "And I really do love him."

Vivi, Melanie, and Ruth didn't interrupt as Angela poured out her story. Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen, but Vivien knew Evangeline was most likely also hanging on every word.

"I just kept telling myself I'd done the right thing even if I did it at the wrong time, that I couldn't marry anyone I didn't trust with the real me. Me, Angela. The one who was fat for most of her life. Who managed to lose seventy-five pounds, but who worries every single day that she'll gain it back." Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Who looks in the mirror and still sees Fangie. No matter how many going-away parties you give her or how many layers of black clothing I try to bury her in." Angela took a sip of coffee that had to be long cold.

"I just couldn't believe that I deserved someone as incredible as James. I couldn't believe he would still love me if he knew all the c.r.a.p I was carrying around inside." She smiled as if the story were over.