Chapter 1

Happy Birthday

For Robert, faithful friend, songwriter extraordinaire, and transformer of lullaby lyrics. A thousand thanks for stepping up when I needed you.

Bob Dylan

Karen pushed the door to the restroom open and grumbled, “Jesus, my tits hurt.”

“Thanks for the update,” Gail said.

They had the small two-stall restroom to themselves. Karen slipped into the far stall, set her bag on the floor, and plopped down. Just as she started to piddle, she felt something pop in her left breast. “Oh shit!” she barked.

“What!” Gail cried out from the next stall. “What, shit?”

“Hang on,” Karen said. She quickly unbuttoned her shirt enough to open the nursing flap on her bra. Sure enough, a thick milky liquid the consistency of heavy cream oozed from her erect nipple. A shudder passed over her, and a surge of warmth rose from deep inside. “Shit, just what I thought. I’ve started.”

“Started what? Your period?”

“No! My period? No, my girls are making milk.”

“No shit!” Gail scrambled to stand and pull up her pants. “Really?”

“Duh! Kinda thick right now, but I won’t make colostrum so it’ll thin right up.”

“It really worked! I thought it was all a bunch of crap.”

“Umm, who was it who said just last week that it looked like I was carrying around a couple heads of cabbage?”

“Yeah, but ... I didn’t think it meant you were going to actually lactate, I figured it’d just make your girls get bigger. So, what’re you gonna do now?” Gail said, stepping out of her stall and arranging her ivory tie-neck blouse.

“Luckily, I’ve been carrying pads for the last couple of weeks.”

“Pads? What kind of pads?”

“Nursing pads. What the hell did you think? Maxi pads?”

“How am I supposed to know these things.”

Karen grabbed her bag and dug out a thick nursing pad. “I was not expecting this yet,” Karen muttered as she got herself sorted.

“Funny how it’s today of all days.”

“Who knows, maybe it’s God’s seal of approval. Maybe it’s just good timing. And you, no comments out there, I want this to be a surprise for her.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a rotten bitch. Damn, it’s even making me horny. I need a girlfriend,” she said with a wistful sigh.

Karen stepped out of the stall. “Yes you do.”

Gail smiled archly. “Maybe – just maybe. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yes you are a rotten, teasing bitch. Look at me, make sure I’m put together,” Karen said shifting and tugging at her shirt. “No wet spots?”

“You’re fine,” Gail announced after scanning Karen. “I thought she knew about it.”

“She does, but not when. I want to surprise her, so I have to act all nonchalant.” They stood at the sink and washed their hands. The door opened and a new visitor stepped in.

“So, you want to go to Baytown Sunday?” Gail said to Karen’s reflection in the mirror, quickly changing the subject in the presence of a stranger. “There’s this incredible Japanese restaurant, Yamato’s, and you really have to check it out, especially the sushi. It’s to die for.”

“I’ll have to think about it. I can just imagine her reaction to Sushi if she’s freaked out by octopus.”

“They don’t do just sushi, ya know. Maybe we could do the hibachi. I bet she’d get a kick out of that.”

Karen dried her hands with a wad of paper towels. “I suppose. If things go right after lunch.”

“You worry too much,” Gail said, pushing the door open.

“It’s my job to worry.

Karen’s warm glow intensified the instant she stepped out and caught sight of Laci almost dancing in the corridor. When Laci broke into a smile and bounced excitedly on her tippy-toes, Karen’s sex flushed and released a surge of dew. Holy shit, now both my tits and my twitchit are dripping. I’m going to be a frigging wreck by the time I get her home. God! I still can’t believe what she does to me.

When Karen and Gail disappeared into the restroom, Laci was alone. Gail had said the building would be quiet today. District Court wasn’t in session on Fridays, which was reserved for Family Court, mediation sessions, depositions, and other less intense legal business. Just about any other day of the week, this corridor would be packed with a mob of low-grade offenders awaiting their turn before a judge.

Laci set down her pink Ann Spade leather tote holding her sketch pad, pencils, chalk and other accoutrements she needed in case she saw something interesting.

She turned and looked out the floor-to-ceiling smoked glass window at Chamberlain Street, once the retail and social hub of Williamston. Across the street was Courthouse Plaza, one of the dozen or so parks and green spaces the city had built in recent years to make the area more attractive for both potential developers, and the existing businesses trying to remain viable.

The Plaza was going to be the centerpiece of the art festival, and seeing it from this perspective made it clear to Laci why it was the perfect site. At nearly half a block, it was wider than the court building. It rose the thirty-foot elevation to Madison Street in a series of terraces, giving it the feel of an amphitheater. Clever water fountains and well-tended perennial beds were strategically located at various points, and each level of tiers had discrete granite daises for street performers, hipster minstrels, and the infrequent artist to display their talents.

Laci envisioned the welcome table she’d suggested for the entrance. It would be a spot where questions could be answered and information given. She would help Emily manage the visitor flow and do face painting for any kids accompanying their parents. Other club members would be available to offer their talents doing various fun things. Ashley would do caricature sketches of visitors, James, the serious one, would do more realistic portrait sketches, both of which they’d sell for five dollars apiece, proceeds going to the art club. Amelia, with her Mom’s help, would do demonstrations of how a quilt was made, and Sarah would be doing pottery demos.

Laci’s imagination was fired, and it quietly ratcheted up her excitement. She began to hear music in her head – Shakira singing “She-Wolf” – and she unconsciously began to sway and dance to the mental soundtrack whirring in her brain. Her pink Winnie the Pooh “Bee A Dreamer” tee and her soft pink, loosely clingy modest-length skirt allowed her slim body to blend into the grand surroundings. They enhanced her subtle movements. She was a happy dreamer.

A door banged shut, bursting her reverie. When she looked toward the door she was still subtly dancing, swaying, and gyrating to the inner music. A man in an expensive suit stepped into the corridor, and when he spied her there was a stutter in his gait, as though his foot caught an obstacle. When he recaptured his stride, he seemed to stand taller and put a swagger in his step.

Laci was fully aware of the effect she had on the man, and it pleased her in an offhand way. Like any girl her age, she liked being noticed for the way she looked. I bet I could make that guy walk right into a wall, she thought with an inner chuckle. But truth be told, the only one who mattered was Karen. Drawing an Oh-My-God from her made Laci giddy and goose-pimply.

Laci almost immediately forgot about the anonymous voyeur. Her growing excitement had nothing to do with being checked out by passersby. She started swishing down the corridor, tracing her finger along the plank-like handrail guarding the window. She felt good about how things went this morning.

Nothing about the morning’s proceedings fit her expectations of how things might play out. She knew from Gail it wouldn’t be in an imposing courtroom, but the small, mundane conference room was really unexpected.

And the judge! He was nothing like she expected. She didn’t expect him to wear a robe or anything, but she did see him wearing a stuffy suit. Instead, he arrived wearing khakis, a blue polo shirt, and boat shoes! He looked like he might be a retired math teacher, not a judge. And he brought doughnuts, coffee and chocolate milk for god’s sake! And not just any doughnuts either, but the fancy ones from Fergie’s that everyone raved about.

She expected to be pointedly interrogated to make sure she wasn’t making stuff up. Instead, he seemed very compassionate toward the misery she’d endured through the years. She had a bad moment when he went into the time Sandra pushed her down the stairs, and he didn’t seem to mind when she pushed closer to Karen, seeking out her comforting embrace.

He didn’t even question Karen that much. About all he did was say, “I’ve gone over your character reference letters, and I must say, I’m impressed.”

Then, when they took a short bathroom-and-doughnut break, he actually talked to her about art! He said Gail told him about her involvement in getting the art club up and running. Seriously, she could hardly believe the judge was talking to her about art! Surely that had to be a good sign.

Left alone, her bubbly energy started to turn sexual, and, why shouldn’t it? It had been a long time since she and Karen made love, almost a week. They’d had so much going on, so much stress, and they were so exhausted at the end of the day, there simply wasn’t any energy for much more than a little cuddling.

Making love was such a vital part of her life now, the way she and Karen melded their love for each other on the deepest level. They touched, kissed, tasted, talked, laughed, played, and cried out at the orgasmic thunderstorms they gave each other. All the kids at school acted all cool, like they knew everything about sex, but they didn’t know anything. The girls were so immature, letting guys they thought were cute talk them into all kinds of stupid shit like sexting and drinking.

Plenty of girls in her old neighborhood found out the hard way that guys just didn’t give a shit about them. They were fuck toys, and as soon as the girl got pregnant, the guy, whether boy or grown man, dropped out of sight – see ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.

Not Karen though. Karen loved her so much she was trying to finish rescuing her and become her mother. Thoughts like that made Laci’s kitty flush and surge.

She had her hands on the rail and she stared trance-like out the window. She unconsciously gyrated her hips and thrust her mound forward, and she let herself revel in a brief fantasy. She could almost feel Karen glide up behind her and pull her back in an embrace. She felt Karen nuzzle her neck and kiss her, then whisper those magic words, “I love you.” And yes, even imagining that was enough to make Laci let out a soft murmur of pure pleasure as her muffin blossomed.

The sound of heels tap-tapping brought her back to reality. She glanced in the direction of the sound to see a woman in a business suit and a stony face that discouraged even a polite greeting making her way down the hall to the bathroom.

Laci distantly wondered what was taking Karen and Gail so long as she turned back to the window to enjoy the residual warmth of her casual fantasy. When she heard the restroom, door open again, she spun around, her hair spraying out like the rings of Saturn, and at the sight of Karen, a fresh ripple of warmth spread over her like a little orgasm.

The simple sight of her lover made Laci break into a glowing smile. Oh, she was so beautiful! Even in a simple turquoise skirt, an untucked white button-down shirt, and sandals Karen oozed self-confident alpha-bitch control.

Even next to Gail, who was so stunningly beautiful (I wonder why she doesn’t have a girlfriend? Laci thought) Karen projected a powerful don’t-fuck-with-me air. That aura of authority was like an aphrodisiac to Laci in a way she couldn’t explain. But there was no need to explain, so she reveled in it.

Laci, face radiant, shouldered her tote and pranced over to Karen and Gail. She bounced to a stop and dancing on her tippy-toes, she greeted them with her usual singsong, “Hiiii.”

“Whoa,” Karen said, her own face breaking into a radiant smile. “We just went to the bathroom. You’d think we were gone for a week.”

“Well it took you forever. I thought I was gonna hafta find a plumber because you tried to flush yourself down the toilet and got stuck.”

“What a little wise-ass,” Karen smiled, her sparkling eyes locked on her lover’s.

“Hey,” Laci said, pushing between them and locking her arms with theirs. “I learned from the best teachers.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Gail said. “I don’t know about you two shining stars, but I’m starved.”

A few casually dressed people milled around the open, brightly lit lobby of the courthouse. When they stepped out, Laci tugged Karen closer, stood on her tippy-toes, and whispered, “You can have your way with me when we get home,” before giggling.

Karen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re being bad, you know, very bad.”

“I know,” Laci whispered with a fresh, trilling giggle.

“What are you two whispering about?” Gail demanded. She immediately held up her hand saying, “Wait! Don’t answer that! I want to maintain the illusion of innocence.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Karen said.

“Yup. And a hungry piece of work. Let’s go eat.”

“Your choice,” Karen said. “You know the area better than I do.”

They set off like the Three Musketeers, a bubbly Laci in the middle. She bounced and skipped, walked backwards so she could face her adults, held their hands and swung their arms, baiting them several times with accusations of being “old ladies.” They drew lingering looks and downright stares from passersby and drivers making their way down the narrow, one-way street. In one case, it nearly caused an accident when one driver was so distracted by the site of three very attractive women of varying age bouncing down the sidewalk he nearly ran into a car stopped in traffic.

Gail brought them to a sandwich shop with a service window abutting the main park. It had a bland name, Lev’s Deli (“Hot and Cold Sandwiches, Soups and Sides. Kosher menu available!”), but the smells emanating from it were rich, intriguing, and enchanting.

Laci, at Karen’s urging, stepped out of her comfort zone and ordered a gyro. “What’s a ‘year-oh” she asked suspiciously.

A chuckling Karen told her, “It’s safe, just spiced beef strips in a pita pocket with a creamy cucumber sauce.”

Karen had a cold pastrami on rye with horseradish mustard, and Gail a Rueben, and they shared a large basket of poutine.

“What is ‘puts-in’?” Laci demanded, which brought another chuckle from both women.

“Fries served French-Canadian style,” Gail explained. “Covered with regular brown gravy and cheese curds. It’s perfectly safe.”

They sat at a table near a fountain spitting out choreographed ropes of water which splatted on an inner concentric granite ring. Laci took it in, noticing the way the light and shadows played together, the water ropes set aglow by hidden lights, the gentle slope of the tiers leading up to Madison Street. There was a hipster minstrel, Rasta hat on the ground to accept tips, strumming a guitar and singing – both badly – for his supper. She noticed the look of oblivious serenity on his face.

No individual element was particularly interesting by itself, but when melded together in her brain they created something larger than those isolated images taken alone. For just a moment she had the disorienting feeling that she was seeing the world in a new and different way. I bet this must be how Monet saw things.

It only took a few seconds to absorb it all. Without conscious thought, she reached into her bag and pulled out her drawing pad and a pencil, and began sketching what she saw, taking notes as she did, just like her art tutor Mrs. Alberghetti said she should whenever something caught her eye.

Gail, unwrapping her sandwich, watched her with an amused smile. “Ssshhh, artist at work,” she teased.

“Leave me alone,” Laci said without looking up. “I’m creating.”

Gail smiled. “So you are. You’re really taking this art thing seriously.”

“Course I am. Mrs. Alberghetti – she’s my tutor – said I should always carry my sketch pad, and whenever I see something that catches my eye, no matter how insignificant it seems, I should sketch it and take notes about what I see and what caught my attention.”

Gail swallowed a bite of her Rueben. “Oh damn, this is good,” she said, regarding her sandwich. “So, you like her? Your tutor?”

“Oh yeah,” Laci said, putting the sketch pad and pencil on the table and opening her gyro. “She’s really cool, she’s like the assistant to Mr. B’s husband, who’s, like the boss art teacher at Bentley. She’s wicked smart, and her paintings and stuff are a-maz-ing!”

“Is she pushing you? Is she tough.”

“Fricken-A,” Laci declared. “She gives me all kinds of assignments to do, like right now she has me reading a book on the history of European art – and it’s a real book, not like Harry Potter, it’s really complicated. Plus, she has me reading another book on drawing the human body. It’s a lot harder than it looks. And she has me drawing the human body, the whole thing and different parts by themselves, like legs, arms, chests, and it’s by the book, no freehand allowed. Then each week she has me do a painting of whatever I want, but it has to be in a form she assigns. Like this week it’s a still life, last week it was a plein-air, and she says I have to keep everything, she calls it my portfolio and it’s how I can show off what I can do. She says if I ought to see if people will hire me to do works, and the portfolio is how I show them what I can do.”

“Listen to her go,” Gail said with genuine admiration. “My god, that’s impressive!”

“It sure is,” Karen said with obvious pride. “And she does it all come hell or high water. First thing in the morning, she pees, brushes her teeth, and goes down to her studio and starts in. It’s funny as hell, her hair a rat’s nest going every which way, pencils and brushes stuck in it, holding her palette and painting away.”

“Karen, stop picking on me.” But Laci’s insides squirmed and glowed at the praise and admiration of the two women she relied on for validation.

“Oh you love it, and you know you do.”

“I’m gonna try this poutine stuff,” Laci said, plucking thick fry coated with brown gravy from the heaping pile. “What’s those squiggly things on top?”

Both women smiled broadly. “Cheese curds,” Gail said.

“Mmmm, the fries are good! What’s cheese curds? They look weird.”

“They aren’t weird at all,” Karen said after finishing a bite of her sandwich. “They’re cheese just before it becomes cheese. You get an open tank filled with regular milk and add some stuff called rennet, and it makes the milk curdle. You stir it up and the milk separates, with the curds floating to the top, and the left-over liquid is called ‘whey.’”

“What’s whey? I think I’ve heard of it before.”

“Sure you have,” Gail said. “The nursery rhyme. ‘Little Miss Muffet, sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey.’ That’s what she was eating, milk that’d been curdled before the curds were pressed into cheese molds. Kind of like cottage cheese.”

“She musta been poor, eating stuff like that.” Laci sighed and took a curd from its gravy bath. “Well. Here goes.” She popped it in her mouth and savored it, studied the unusual texture with her teeth before swallowing. “Good,” she announced. “Kinda buttery, and look, it’s melting.”

“It is, it’s supposed to” Karen said, grabbing a wad of fries covered with melted curd. “It isn’t all that different from mozzarella. It’s sometimes called ‘squeaky cheese’ because of the texture, it squeaks when you chew it”

“Tch! Karen, you’re so full of it your eyes are brown.”

“Ha! Listen to her! Questioning my integrity like a little wench.”

And so, it went, a free-wheeling conversation between three women who were totally at ease together, who truly liked each other, and were totally relaxed. It went from cheese curds to tongue sandwiches (“Ewwww! Guh-ross!”), the state of downtown, to Gail’s girlfriendless state, Karen’s perennial garden to their plans for the weekend. The one subject they studiously avoided was the 700-pound gorilla dancing on the table: Justice Macdonald’s custody ruling after the lunch recess. It was as if bringing it up would displease the Gods.

At last, the poutine was gone, the sandwiches eaten, the coffee and sodas emptied. Gail looked at her watch, sighed, and said, “We’d better get going. His Honor Justice Kenneth Macdonald is a very punctual man. If he says a two-hour recess, he really means an hour and fifty-nine minutes.

Without warning, Laci felt a curtain of anxiety drop down around her. Her enthusiastic optimism of the morning evaporated. What the fuck? Why am I so nervous all of a sudden? Where did that come from? She tried to push it aside, but the squirming in her tummy pointedly told her that wasn’t going to work.

She tried a different tack. What the frig am I worrying for? A judge isn’t going to give doughnuts and talk about art if he’s about to fuck up your whole life. That didn’t work, either. Maybe he was just being nice to take some of the sting out of what was coming?

She gathered up the trash from her lunch and wadded it up. She didn’t want Karen or Gail to know of her sudden burst of nervousness, so she tried to smile. “I guess so. That was a good lunch. I even tried new stuff and I lived. Thank you, Gail. Next time it’ll be my turn to buy you lunch.”

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll even agree to Macdonald’s if that’s your pleasure.”

Laci wrapped her arms around Karen’s arm and rested her cheek on her savior’s shoulder. She looked up at Karen and whispered with quiet force, “I love you!”

Karen frowned vaguely. “I love you, baby girl.” She looked over at Gail and communicated her frown. Gail answered with a subtle nod of understanding.

“Uh oh,” Gail said. “I see a beautiful young lady who’s got a sudden case of nerves.”

Laci looked up and blinked. How did she know? She glanced at Karen who wore an almost indistinguishable frown of concern. How did she know, too? Was it that obvious? Laci squirmed around Karen’s arm. “I can’t help it,” she pouted. “Now that we’re going there, I’m scared. What if he...” she trailed off, unable to say the words that expressed her fear.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Gail said gently, and she gave Laci’s shoulder a tender squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

Laci sighed. If anyone knew, it was Gail. Her nerves were only a tiny bit soothed. “I guess. Well, we’d better get going or we’ll be late.”

When they entered the conference room, the CPS caseworker Virginia Fleischman was already sitting at the table, her laptop open and papers neatly arrayed around it. She looked up at them and smiled brightly. “Hello, folks. Did you have a nice lunch?”

She was a pretty woman, Laci noticed as if seeing her for the first time. She was young, certainly not yet 30, on the chubby side, with sparkling brown eyes behind stylish tortoise-shell glasses.

Gail made her way to her chair next to Virginia. That’s when Laci noticed the two chairs she and Karen sat in during the morning session had been replaced by a two-person version of the chairs around the table. Laci, a puzzled frown creasing her brow, looked up at Karen. Karen shrugged but she didn’t look at all perturbed.

What if it meant Justice Macdonald wanted to cut her mother out of the picture, but the law he had to follow said he couldn’t do it. Maybe the seat was there because he knew she would freak out, so he wanted Karen close together so Karen could keep her from losing it? Her heart started racing at the thought, and now her tummy was churning in a most unpleasant way.

Molly Ingersoll, the court clerk who kept all the records, came through the rear door and set a batch of manila folders on the table. She must have seen the look on Laci’s face, because she smiled and said, “Justice Macdonald noticed how you seemed so much more comfortable when you were close to Karen, so he thought it might be nice if we swapped out the single seat for that double. It isn’t any more comfortable than the other chairs, but it does let you sit together.”

“Well thank you,” Karen said with a look of mild but pleased surprise. “We appreciate that.” They sat down, Laci scooping her skirt under her. Karen affectionately tweaked and wiggled the tip of Laci’s nose. “I think I have a girl who is more nervous than she’s letting on.”

Laci pushed close to Karen and rested her face on Karen’s chest. Her nostrils flared unconsciously as she picked up a faint but rich scent from Karen she’d never noticed before. It was both soothing and oddly arousing. Her brain didn’t dwell on it. “I can’t help it,” she said with her all-purpose pout.

“I know, baby-girl,” Karen said, and she planted a small kiss on Laci’s forehead.

“You know,” Molly said, sounding pensive, “usually with these TPR hearings, there’s a lot of anger and hostility, or painful sadness, there is so much negativity. It’s such a – an uplifting feeling, I guess, to have such a loving and happy atmosphere.”

Oh please let that be a good sign! “All I know,” Laci said with a tinge of defiant defensiveness, “is I love Karen and she loves me.”

“Oh yes,” Molly said, “that’s obvious, dear. Don’t be afraid to hug Karen as much as you want.” Molly finished arranging the files, then she turned on the recorder. “It’s time to get going.” She knocked on the same door she’d come through, turned her head and said, “Please stand.”

Laci, her knees weak and shaky, stood up. Karen slipped her arm around her waist and pulled Laci closer.

Justice Macdonald came through the door sat and down at the head of the table. “Go ahead and sit down, folks,” he said and the four of them followed suit. Molly Ingersoll, the court clerk, settled behind her stenography machine. Macdonald allowed himself a moment to study his folded hands with a pensive look. Then he looked up.

“Laci, you’re an artist. Are you familiar with John Singer Sargent?”

“I know who he is, I saw some of his work at the museum. He painted the rotunda murals at the museum, and they’re like totally incredible, I coulda just stayed there all day studying them.”

“He did a lot of other stuff. Are you familiar with his, ‘Mrs. Fiske-Warren and Her Daughter Rachel’”?

Laci blushed. “Umm, no – not yet.” She looked up with an embarrassed smile. “But I will.”

“I hope you do. That’s the only way to learn. Now I’m no art aficionado, but I do appreciate it, and I know what I like. It’s one of my favorite paintings. I even have a canvas print hanging in my house. I think you’ll understand what I mean when you see an image of it, but there was a point in this morning’s testimony where we were getting into some unpleasant events, and you were seeking comfort in Karen’s embrace and she gave it. That’s when the image of Mrs. Warren and her daughter Rachel popped into my head. It’s the perfect metaphor, at least in my mind, for what I’m seeing.

“Most of the time when we’re dealing with termination cases, we’re happy with a ‘good enough’ resolution. We’re happy getting kids out of the line of fire and into a safe place. If we’re lucky, that safe place is also nurturing. Every once in a while, the planets align and we’re faced with a situation that’s essentially the best possible outcome for the child – not just ‘in her best interest, ‘ but ‘the best possible outcome.’

“All of your teachers are literally astonished at the changes in you since you came under Karen’s care. In addition to your blossoming as an artist, you’ve become a school leader, helping build an art club from the ground up, helping to arrange a downtown art fair – which I promise to attend – and leading the school’s anti-bullying campaign. The list goes on.

“Now, the legal threshold for terminating Sandra Harper’s parental rights have been met several times over, and there is no indication of any potential improvement – indeed, she’s is incarcerated essentially indefinitely.

“Ideally, we – the state – want the custodial guardian to adopt the child when permanent guardianship is granted. I understand there are external factors in Ms. Nelson’s life which make that an impractical step at this time, but once those factors are managed, we would like to see adoption move forward.

“So, what I’m saying is, I’m granting the petition to terminate Sandra Harper’s parental rights to Laci Harper. Furthermore, I’m also granting the petition for Karen Nelson to assume full and permanent guardianship of Laci. I’ve filed my formal decision with the Clerk of Courts.”

Like the jarring opening notes of Eroica, Laci was hammered by hot, dizzying inner pangs as she realized what Justice Macdonald was saying. For several seconds, she felt like she was in a dream. She looked at Gail, who was beaming and flashing a thumbs up. She looked up at Karen, who wore a serene smile and simply nodded slightly. When Laci noticed tears brimming in Karen’s eyes, her own dam burst.