The Fourth Child by Jessica Winter (best classic novels TXT) 📕

it make whatother people thought of them, if they knew who they were and knew their love for each other? Surely it would have been thefirst stop on a big adventure. Jane consented to the thought that erased PJ and Sean and Mirela. Or worse than erased Mirela—justleft her where she was, in a dank cot across an ocean. Jane lay down in the thought. The best time of all had been just Lauren,because that was the time when they could get away.

Lauren had gotten away. Or almost, she was almost there. She had what she needed: she was pretty and slim and she got straight As. She was an athlete, she was smart, creative, her teachers paid her lots of attention, they wanted to see her up on a stage—she belonged there, all eyes on her. Two lead roles in a row as a freshman, and no training, no voice or dance lessons, nothing. A natural talent. She was special. Jane had been distracted from her lately, yes, but others were captivated. Lauren was fine. So much more than fine. She wouldn’t be like Jane. She would go to college. She would create a life that was her own, intentional. She would date different boys before deciding on one forever. Her children would be—if she chose to have—her children would be—

The whirring again. She felt herself driven to dust. She pressed her face against her baby’s hair, her ribs under her lighthand rose and fell. The baby, the baby, the baby is okay, she is still in her arms, the baby is okay, the baby, the baby isokay.

Lauren

They were pretty sure Mom would get onto the news on all three local stations, but they could only watch one while recordinganother, over a soundtrack of Mirela’s screams from the backyard, where Nana Dee was trying to play with her.

“I still don’t understand how you could have lost her,” Dad was saying, “when at any moment you can hear her in six counties.”

“Shh, it’s starting,” PJ and Sean said.

“Jane Brennan of Williamsville never thought of herself as an activist,” the reporter began.

“You know, I’ve got four kids; they keep me pretty busy.”

Lauren still startled by four.

“It’s Mom!” PJ and Sean announced. “Mom’s on TV!”

“You look pretty, Mom,” Lauren said. On the screen, Mom’s cheeks were flushed with the wet spring cold, and her hair sweptacross her brow in a curtain.

“But when Operation Rescue came to town to protest abortions in the area, gaining nationwide attention for what they are callingthe Spring of Life, Jane just knew she had to be part of it,” the reporter continued. “You see, her youngest child, Mirela,is adopted.” Slo-mo shot of Mirela spinning on the sidewalk beside Mom, doing the electrocuted smile. “For Mirela to jointhe family, Jane had to launch her own kind of rescue operation, saving the girl from an overcrowded orphanage in CommunistRomania. To see Mirela now, you’d never guess the horrors she escaped, thanks to this Williamsville family.”

“She is adopted,” Mom was saying as the camera cut back to her, then to a scene of chanting crowds, then back to Mirela. “And so, you know, you just want to show people there’s another way, you—you can choose life.”

“Wait, I just saw—was that Dr. Rosen’s picture?” Lauren said.

“But what began as a protest on behalf of lost little lives . . . almost ended with a little girl lost.”

“Ooooohh,” Sean and PJ said in unison, Sean clutching his stomach in mock-pain and PJ slapping his forehead with his palm. “That’s a little straaaiiinnned,” Sean ululated in his opera voice, clutching at PJ’s arm. PJ elbowed him in the gut, and Sean keened with gladness.

“The irony is not lost on me,” Mom was saying on TV. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”

“Mom, you were protesting Dr. Rosen?” Lauren asked. “What was that sign with Dr. Rosen’s picture on it?”

“The protesters had a big reveal in store—one we can’t show you on TV.”

“It was pretty dramatic, yes,” Mom was saying into the microphone.

The news cut to a slow-mo of Mom, her jaw dropping open.

“Mom?” Lauren asked again. “That’s Stitch’s dad. Stitch is my friend.” Mom, on the couch, shook her head and closed her eyes.

“Didn’t that Rosen kid call here the other night?” Dad asked.

“Mom, you promised that you wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me,” Lauren said as the phone started ringing.

“Hi, Glenis,” Dad said. “You’ve got Channel 4? We’re watching Channel 7, and we’re taping Channel 2. Talk to you in a bit.”

“In all the hubbub,” the reporter said, “Mirela slipped away. And Jane Brennan the activist. Had to rediscover. Jane Brennan.The mom.”

“I mean, she was fine,” Mom was saying to the reporter, “but I had quite a fright for a moment there.”

“Good Samaritans found Mirela at the nearby Pancake Palace restaurant, where the little social butterfly had already made acquaintances with diners as well as hostess Joanie Schmertz.”

“Joanie from bowling league?” Dad asked.

“She’s a very happy, very, very friendly little girl,” Joanie was telling the reporter.

Cut to Joanie on a ladder propped against the side of the Pancake Palace, inching the dr. rosen kills children banner off the roof with a broom.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Dad said.

“Today, Operation Rescue is back out on our streets, on day four of the Spring of Life protests that have already resultedin two hundred arrests. But Jane Brennan, activist and mom, is on the sidelines for now. She is back home with her kids, including little Mirela, who has now been the happy beneficiaryof not one. But two. Rescue. Operations. Deena Sobel, WGRZ News, Buffalo.”

“Who writes this shit?” Pat asked.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” PJ and Sean chanted.

“Mom, why were you even talking to a reporter?” Lauren asked.

“We’re supposed to take any opportunity to put a face to our cause,” Mom said. “I had Father Steve’s blessing.”

“He wasn’t even there!” Dad said. “Your hero stood you up!”

“Why did you have that awful sign about Stitch’s dad?” Lauren asked.

“I had nothing to do with that!” Mom said.

“Oh, sure