When the Morning Glory Blooms Read Online Free Page A

attention to the lyrics on the screen. The letters blurred. Church used to be a sanctuary. Now it felt like an exhibit hall with their family on display in the “What Not to Do” section. The section with the broken people.
    And she couldn’t even whine about it to Monica.

    Lauren’s exterior posture more closely matched Becky’s internal posture than Becky wanted to admit. Great day for a sermon about the Bible’s Rachel, who “refused to be comforted” over the loss of her child. Even Lauren seemed to soften a little, brushing at a tear when the final song started with something about mercy finding people at the side of a broken road and lifting them out of the debris of their failings.
    Who said an out-of-wedlock pregnancy was no big deal anymore? Twenty-first century and all that? Cultural acceptance. Reality shows spotlighting teen moms notwithstanding. Regret still destroys futures, changes relationships, rewrites dreams.
    While Brianne bounced off the platform at the end of the service and into a gaggle of girlfriends, Lauren headed to the nursery to retrieve her son. Gil chatted with two men from his Tuesday night accountability group. Becky bypassed the conversations and sought out the privacy of a bathroom stall. Just like junior high.
    She recognized the shoes of the woman in the next stall to the left. Monica’s what-were-you-thinking? eggplant patent leather ballerina flats.
    Becky noiselessly slid her own Walmart feet to the right. How long would she have to stay in the stall to avoid facing the woman with the perfect family life?
    Oh, that was ridiculous! Had she learned nothing since junior high?
    God grant me the something-something to accept the something else that I cannot change .
    Serenity. Yeah, that was it.
    Pull up your big girl panties, literally, and leave your hiding place, Becky .
    Side-by-side sinks. A shared soap dispenser. Lavender—supposedly stress-reducing aroma. Automatic paper towel dispenser. No, you go first .
    “Good to see you here, Becky.”
    “You, too.”
    “I don’t mean, in the bathroom.”
    “Yeah, me neither.”
    “Let me get the door for you.”
    Noble, considering how you dissed my daughter, my parenting, my   . . .  “Thanks.”
    Monica searched the crowd in the narthex.
    Wow, not even a lame comment about the weather .
    Another few seconds ticked by before Monica asked, “Do you want to grab some lunch and talk?”
    “Yes.” Becky drew a steadying breath. “Someday. Not today, if that’s okay with you.”
    Monica opened her mouth as if prepared to proffer the perfect response. Nothing.
    Where was Lauren? Daughter of mine, this isn’t your fault, exactly, but it’s part of the fallout . “I’ll see you next week, Monica.” Becky tucked her Bible under her arm and caught Gil’s eye with a “meet you in the car” hand signal. No doubt Lauren and the baby were already there, trying to make each other smile.
    “Can I call you tomorrow, Becky?”
    “I won’t be home.”

    Who was she kidding? Of course she’d be home. Where was she going to go? The spa? Work? The Ellison Corp. didn’t have a gram-ternity leave plan. She’d had to quit to take care of Jackson when the school year started. If Lauren graduated on schedule, maybe she could work part-time next summer. If the new editor who’d taken her place didn’t pan out.
    “Burgers or pizza?” Gil alternated glances at Lauren in the backseat and Becky in the front.
    “Let’s just go home, Dad.”
    Becky nodded.
    “I’m offering to take my two best girls out for lunch. What am I hearing? Okay, okay. Seafood. As long as it’s deep-fried.”
    Jackson voiced his protest over that idea. With a vengeance.
    “Home it is.”
    More howls from the backseat. Becky offered, “Lauren, try—”
    “I’ve got it, Mom!”
    And she did. Quiet returned except for the faint sound of a Kutless song bleeding from the earbuds of Lauren’s iPod, one bud of which rested on the upholstered car seat near