A Message for Abby. Janice Johnson Kay

behavior, you’ll recover her.”

      A sharp slice of pain tightened Abby’s voice. “Do I want to?”

      Meg’s eyes held warmth and understanding. “She loved us.”

      “She left us.”

      “Yes, she did, and I’ve never forgiven her.” Meg looked inward for a moment and then laid her hands on her belly, which shifted and bulged briefly. Voice soft, she asked, “But does one betrayal, however huge, discount everything that came before it?”

      Once Abby would have said yes without hesitation. Once she would have been certain she didn’t want to remember her mother’s touch, her mother’s face. Daddy hadn’t been perfect, but he’d been there. The first rule of parenting: you must be present in your children’s lives.

      But perhaps Daddy had been there for the wrong reasons, and their mother gone for the right ones. Or at least for ones that a grown-up Abby could understand. Even forgive. She wasn’t sure yet, but she was coming around.

      “I don’t know,” she said now, to her sisters. “I don’t remember what came before.”

      “You will.” Meg smiled comfortably. She touched her swollen belly with clear meaning, the tenderness she felt for her unborn child expressed in the small gesture. “I know you will.”

      Abby swallowed a lump in her throat and gave a brief nod. Then she turned to Renee. “What did Daniel say to your news?”

      “Hallelujah.” Renee grinned and at last reached for her sandwich. Around a big bite, she said, “You know I’m the one who wanted to wait to have children. He’d have been happy if I’d been pregnant the day after our wedding.”

      “Or the day before,” Meg murmured, devouring her lunch, too.

      Renee poked her. “Are you impugning my virtue?”

      “Yup.” Meg’s mouth was full.

      Without interest, Abby moved the greens of her salad around with her fork. “Meg, did Daniel talk to you last night when he got home?”

      Her sister gave her a strange look. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “Well, of course he talked to me. Unless... Oh, God. He didn’t tell me something. Was there a note? Or...” Horror crossed her face. “Not something really perverted?”