Toby lifted her eyebrows. "So, what's the important answer?"

"I don't know. We're so completely different. He says he's a religious doubter, but he lives in a very spiritual place, a more spiritual place than I'm ever going to be able to share with him. I used to have faith only in antibiotics." She smiled ruefully. "Now I don't even have faith in them."

"So ... where are you two heading?"

R.J. shrugged. "I'll have to make up my mind soon, otherwise it won't be fair to him."

"I can't imagine you ever being unfair to anyone."

"You'd be surprised," R.J. said.

David was working toward the finishing chapters of his book. They were forced to see each other less often, but he was coming to the end of a long, hard effort, and she was happy for him.

She spent what little spare time she had by herself. Walking along the river, she found the foundation of Harry Crawford's mill, great blocks of hewed stone. Brush and trees had grown up, hugging and hiding the foundation, and several of the stone blocks had slipped into the riverbed. She couldn't wait until David was free so she could show him the mill site.

Next to one of the big stone blocks she found a small heartrock, of a blue stone she couldn't identify. It didn't seem likely to her that it contained magic.

On impulse, she gave Sarah a call. "Want to go see a movie with me?"

"Uh ... sure."

Dumb idea, she told herself severely. But to her pleasure, it worked out well. They drove to Pittsfield, where they had supper in a Thai restaurant and saw a movie.

"We'll do it again," she said, meaning it. "Okay?"

"Sure."

But she became busy, and three or four weeks went by. Several times she saw Sarah on Main Street, and Sarah smiled to see her. It was becoming easier and more pleasant to run into her.

One Sat.u.r.day afternoon Sarah surprised her by riding Chaim down her driveway and tying his reins to a rail of the porch.

"Hey. How nice. You want tea?"

"Hi. Yeah, please."

R.J. had just finished baking scones from a recipe given to her by Eva Goodhue, and she served them.

"Maybe it's missing an ingredient. What do you think?" she said doubtfully.

Sarah hefted one. "Could be lighter ... Can lots of things cause you to miss a period?" she said, and R.J. forgot her baking problems.

"Well, yes. Lots of things. Is it the first time a period hasn't appeared on schedule? And is it only one period that's been missed?"

"Several periods."

"I see," R.J. said cheerfully, in her most controlled friendly-doctor voice. "Are there any other symptoms?"

Nausea and vomiting, Sarah told her. "What you might call morning sickness, I suppose."

"Are you asking about these things for a friend? And would she like to come and see me at the office?"

Sarah picked up a scone and appeared to consider whether or not to bite, and then returned it to the dish. She looked at R.J. in much the same way as she had looked at the scone. When she spoke, her voice held only the smallest amount of discernible bitterness, and just the slightest tremble.

"I'm not asking for a friend."

PART THREE.

HEARTROCKS.

29.

SARAH'S REQUEST Sarah wore her hair that year in the fashion of dozens of smart young models and film actresses, in long, tangled ringlets. Her tender, troubled eyes were made larger and more luminous by the thick gla.s.ses. Her full-lipped mouth trembled slightly, and her hunched, tense shoulders seemed to expect the vengeful blows of a punishing G.o.d. The pimples on her chin were back, and there was another in the crease at the side of her nose. Even now, while carefully damming up her despair, she looked like the dead mother whose pictures R.J. had studied so covertly, but Sarah was tall and had inherited some of David's stronger facial features; she held the promise of a beauty more interesting than had been evident in the snapshots of Natalie.

Under R.J.'s careful questioning, what Sarah had described as "several" missed periods turned out to be three.

"Why didn't you come to see me sooner?" R.J. asked.

"My period is so irregular anyway, I kept thinking it would come."

And then too, Sarah said, she hadn't been able to make up her mind about what to do. Babies were so wonderful. She had spent lots of time lying on her bed, imagining the sweet softness, the warm helplessness.

How could this be happening to her?

"You used no contraception?"

"No."

"Sarah. All those programs in your school about AIDS," R.J. couldn't keep from saying with ill-disguised bitterness.

"We knew we wouldn't get AIDS."

"How could you possibly know a thing like that?"

"We hadn't ever gone all the way before with anybody, either of us. Bobby used a condom the first time, but we didn't have one the next time."

They didn't know zilch. R.J. fought for calm wisdom. "So ... have you talked about this with Bobby?"

"He's scared stupid," Sarah said flatly.

R.J. nodded.

"He says we can get married, if I want to."

"Is that what you want?"

"R.J. ... I like him a lot. I even love him a lot. But I don't love him ... you know, for always. I know he's way too young to be a good father, and I know I'm too young to be a good mother. He has plans to go to college and law school and be a big shot lawyer in Springfield like his father, and I want to go to school." She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "I want to become a meteorologist."

"You do?" Somehow, because of her rock collection, R.J. would have guessed at geology.

"I study the television reports all the time. Some of those weather a.s.sholes are just comedians who don't know a thing. Scientists keep learning new stuff about the weather, and I think a smart woman who works hard can go places."

Despite what she was feeling, R.J. found herself smiling, but only briefly. She could see clearly where the conversation was heading, but she was waiting for Sarah to take them there. "What are your plans, then?"

"I can't raise a baby."

"Are you considering adoption?"

"I thought about it a lot. I'll be a senior in the fall. It's an important year. I need a scholarship to go to college, and I won't earn one if I have to deal with a pregnancy. I want to have an abortion."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. It doesn't take long, does it?"

R.J. sighed. "No, it doesn't take a lot of time, I guess. So long as there aren't complications."

"Are there often complications?"

"Not very often at all. But there can be complications with anything. It's an invasive procedure."

"But you can bring me someplace good, really good, can't you?"

The freckles stood out in the pale face and made Sarah appear very young and so vulnerable that R.J. found it hard to speak normally. "Yes, I could bring you someplace really good, if that's what you end up wanting to do. Why don't we talk it over with your father?"

"No, he's not to know a d.a.m.ned thing! Not a single word, do you understand?"

"That's such a mistake, Sarah."

"You can't tell me it's a mistake. You think you know my father better than I do? When my mother died, he became a falling-down drunk. This could make him drink again, and I won't risk it. Look, R. J., you're good for my father, and I can tell he thinks a lot of you. But he loves me too, and he has ... an unrealistic picture of me in his mind. I'm afraid this would really do it for him."

"But this is a terribly important decision, Sarah, and you shouldn't have to make it alone."

"I'm not alone. I have you."

It forced R.J. to say four very hard words. "I'm not your mother."

"I don't need a mother. I need a friend." Sarah looked at her. "I'm going to do this with or without your help, R.J. But I really need you."

R.J. looked back. Then she nodded. "Very well, Sarah. I'll be your friend." Either her face or the words revealed her pain, and the girl took her hand.

"Thank you, R.J. Will I have to go away overnight?"

"From what you've told me, I believe you've entered the second trimester. An abortion in the second trimester is a two-day procedure. Afterwards, there will be bleeding. Perhaps no more than a heavy menstrual flow, but possibly more. You'll have to plan on being away from home at least one night. But, Sarah ... in Ma.s.sachusetts a female under eighteen needs the written consent of her parents to have an abortion."

Sarah started. "You can give me the abortion, here."

"No." No way, friend. R.J. took her other hand too, feeling the rea.s.suring youthful vigor. "I'm not set up to do an abortion here. And we want you to be as safe as possible. If you're absolutely certain you want an abortion, you have only two choices. You can go to a clinic in another state, or you can request a hearing before a judge who can grant you permission to have an abortion in this state without parental consent."

"Oh, G.o.d. I have to go public?"

"No, not at all. You would see the judge in the privacy of his chambers, just the two of you."

"What would you do, R.J.? If you were in my place?"

She was cornered by this direct question. No evasion was possible, and she owed the girl an answer. "I'd see the judge," she said briskly. "I could set up the interview for you. They almost never refuse permission. And then you could go to a clinic in Boston. I used to work there, and I know that it's very good."

Sarah smiled and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. "That's what we'll do then. But, R.J. ... what will it cost?"

"A first-trimester abortion costs three hundred and twenty dollars. A second-trimester abortion, the kind you need, is more complicated and more expensive, five hundred and fifty dollars. You don't have that kind of money, do you?"

"No."

"I'll pay half. And you must tell Robert Henderson that he has to pay half. All right?"

Sarah nodded. For the first time, her shoulders began to shake.

"But right now, I have to arrange for you to have an examination."

Despite what she had told Sarah, she already half thought of her as ... not her daughter, exactly, but at least someone with whom she had a strong personal connection. She could no more do an internal examination of Sarah Markus than if she herself had suffered the labor pains of Sarah's birth, or been there in the department store elevator when Sarah had made water on the carpet, or brought her to the first day of school.

She picked up the telephone and called Daniel Noyes's office in Greenfield and made arrangements to bring Sarah in for an office visit.

Dr. Noyes said that as near as he could tell, Sarah had been pregnant for fourteen weeks.

Too long. The girl's firm young stomach was barely convex, but it wouldn't stay that way much longer. R.J. knew that with each pa.s.sing day cells would multiply, the fetus would grow, and abortion would become that much more complicated.

She arranged a judicial hearing before the Honorable Geoffrey J. Moynihan. She drove Sarah to the courthouse, kissed her before leaving her in the judge's chambers, and sat on the hard bench of polished wood in the marble corridor, waiting.

The purpose of the hearing was to convince Judge Moynihan that Sarah was mature enough to have an abortion. To R.J., the hearing itself was a conundrum: if Sarah wasn't mature enough to have an abortion, how could she be mature enough to bear and raise a child?

The interview with the judge took twelve minutes. When Sarah emerged she nodded somberly.

R.J. put her arm around the girl's shoulders, and they walked that way to the car.