One Week In December by Holly Chamberlin Page A

years as a high-powered, sharklike attorney, he was a sentimental man at heart. In spite of the fact that he’d suspected that something was troubling his daughter, he hadn’t been properly prepared for her announcement and felt terribly stricken. He felt physically ill.
    As was her habit, Julie tried to reassure and to comfort him, but this time it was to no real avail.
    â€œThings will appear brighter in the morning, honey,” she said, stroking his cheek with her work-worn hand. “I promise you. They always do.”
    Steve squeezed his wife’s other hand and said good night. Within minutes he heard the slow and deep breathing that told him she was asleep.
    He envied Julie’s ability to compartmentalize, to put aside a problem until morning, to be generally imperturbable. He envied her because he was so different. Steve was a brooder, and though he knew the futility of worry, he was a worrier. It wasn’t the first night he’d lain awake for hours, futilely reviewing the past.
    First, there had been the stunning news of Becca’s pregnancy, and her refusal to have an abortion. She’d known she couldn’t raise the child on her own—the idea was incomprehensible, terrifying—but she simply couldn’t bear the idea of aborting the pregnancy. Of course, the family had respected her decision. Then, there had been the family meetings to discuss David and Naomi’s offer to raise the child as their own. Nora had been the strongest supporter of the plan. Then, there had been the phone calls. The delicate way Steve had tried to put the family’s requests. The promises he’d made of future support and the assurances of the most sincere thanks. The lectures he’d listened to patiently from those reluctant to get involved in a scheme not entirely legal. Finally, there had been the financial arrangements. And it had all gone off without a hitch. It was a miracle, really. It was an incredible stroke of luck. It was an example of almost unbelievable good fortune.
    But now the universe was seeking its payment. The universe in the form of the person he had most wanted to protect. Becca had become her own avenging angel.
    Steve had truly thought he was acting on his daughter’s behalf, arranging the adoption that was not a legal adoption but, in reality, a subterfuge. He’d thought he was acting unselfishly. But not for the first time he wondered if all along, there had been an element of self-preservation in his actions. Had he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of having a pregnant teenaged daughter in his home? Had he worried about his professional reputation, what his colleagues might think of him, what the other fathers he knew might say behind his back? Had he been ashamed of Becca? And had what he’d convinced himself to be a kind and humane act really only been the whitewashing of an unpleasant truth?
    Steve sighed. Sometimes, he thought, even a well-meaning father just didn’t know what was best for his family.
    It wasn’t until Henry Le Mew leapt up on the bed and curled at his feet that Steve finally slept.

14
    The hardest part was over. At least, Becca hoped it was. Her intentions had been announced. If they hadn’t been met with enthusiasm, well, it was only what she had expected. Maybe not quite as much anger, but shock, yes, surprise, and initial resistance. That was normal. No one really enjoyed sudden, dramatic change, no matter what they might claim.
    While she undressed for bed, Becca reviewed details of the meeting. She saw her father’s look of disbelief. She recalled Olivia’s hostility, a hostility that seemed general, not entirely directed at her sister. At one point David had looked apoplectic. James, her one hope, however dim, had been useless. And Naomi . . . Naomi’s evident sorrow had shaken Becca’s confidence, though it had not weakened her resolve.
    Becca lay down on the couch and pulled the blankets up