Angela leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched her girls opening presents. This was what being a grandmother was all about. She felt it: the pride of knowing you raised your kids right, that they grew up to be happy, confident people with enough optimism to bring their own child into the world. That they were able to find love (even if they needed a little shove in the right direction), and wanted to multiply that love by sharing it. The adventure was just beginning for her girls.

They were side-by-side on their new giant sofa chair, like two peas in a pod, Maura with a gift box in her lap and Jane with her arm around Maura. Every gift she opened, Maura would hold up whatever darling outfit was inside and look at Jane, who would smile and coo. Angela was sure at least some of that was just for show. Jane had to be tired. It had been a long day, even if they'd been able to avoid any nasty scenes involving Hope Martin.

When Constance returned from the guest house earlier in the day, after Maura told her about Hope, Angela knew there might be trouble ahead. She could see the embers burning in Constance's eyes. Maura's mother was so graceful and sophisticated that she would never dream of disrupting the party, but if she ever got a moment alone with Hope…. Well, Angela knew which woman she would bet on to win that fight.

Then while Jane and Maura were upstairs getting ready, Constance asked Angela what she knew about Hope. Constance called Maura equanimous (Angela made a note to look that up later) and wanted to know if she was holding anything back, emotionally. So Angela related what she remembered about the night Hope left Maura in tears.

The blip of a siren and a flashing red and blue light distracted Angela from her magazine. By the time she got to the window, all she saw was the cruiser, but she waited a few more minutes in case something was about to happen. Sure enough, two women appeared on the street, one dragging the other by the wrist while waving off the police car.

Wait, Angela recognized those women. That was Hope and Cailin, Maura's dinner guests from the other night. Cailin pulled her wrist free and spoke loud enough for Angela to hear, loud enough for the whole street to hear, "You're just going to leave her like that? After what she just said?"

Hope took a step toward her daughter, backing her up a step. "I don't want you coming over here again, Cailin. Do not even speak to her." She held out her hand. "Give me the keys."

Cailin obeyed, even as she argued back, "I'm an adult, Mom. And this isn't Kinshasa, I'm not going to get kidnapped. If I want to come over here and talk to my—"

"You are NOT an adult, you are a teenager, and you are ill." Hope clicked the key fob and opened the driver's side door. She pointed to the passenger side and commanded, "Get in."

"It's true, you know. You can deny it all you want, but she IS—" The rest of Cailin's sentence got cut off by the slamming of the car door.

Angela took a deep breath as they drove away, not sure what she'd just heard. There was only one way to find out. She pulled a robe over her pajamas and headed over to the main house.

When she knocked and opened the door, Maura's back was to her and she turned quickly, trying to hide the tissue she'd been using to dab at her eyes. "Angela, is there something I can do for you?"

She almost let Maura get away with it. She didn't want to embarrass her daughter's best friend, but clearly something was wrong and no matter how much she tried to hide it, a mother knows these things need to be talked out. So she stepped forward and took the tissue from Maura's hand. Knowing Maura didn't like to be hugged, she did the next best thing, a reassuring hand to her arm. The low, quiet tone of her voice conveyed soothing comfort. "What happened, baby?"

Maura's eyes filled up again and she swallowed, then turned to look back at the front door, as if Angela could see the scene still being played out. "Hope. I— I told her. I'm her daughter." She shrugged, as if to say she couldn't help the circumstances. "And she didn't believe me."

Maura's arms wrapped around herself and she looked at the floor. Angela couldn't help herself, she put her own arms around Maura, pulling Maura's head to her bosom and trapping Maura's arms between them. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." With her free hand, Angela removed her cell phone from her pocket and texted Jane: Come over. Maura needs you. When Maura finally shrugged her off, Angela put on some tea and stayed with her the few minutes it took for Jane to arrive.

Jane probably would have considered Angela's storytelling to be gossip, but she would come to understand when she was a mother herself. Constance needed to know how Hope had treated Maura. As Angela spoke, she saw the embers ignite, and she knew she had her work cut out for her if she was going to try to maintain some peace that afternoon. Luckily, after Constance spoke those few words to Hope at the beginning of the party, Hope retreated and kept mostly to herself.

People started filing out after the gifts were done. Angela said personal goodbyes to everyone at the door, then turned around to find the party reduced to seven: Jane, Maura, Constance, Carla, Angela, Hope, and Cailin. It was an uncomfortable silence for sure. Maura had said she wanted to talk to Hope privately, so Angela did the best thing she could think of: she grabbed a bottle of wine and headed for the back door. "Well I'm pooped! Who wants to join me for some down time in the guest house?" She looked pointedly at Carla, who got the message and agreed, then added, "Constance?"

Constance shifted her eyes to Hope, then to Maura, then finally accepted the offer, "Yes, that sounds lovely." Her tone did not at all match the ease of her words.

Thank the lord for Carla Talucci. She and Angela had been best friends since Janie and Georgie (Carla's oldest son) were just a few months old. Then Frankie and Bobby were born just four months apart, and Carla had a daughter, Gina, around the same time Angela had Tommy. Growing up, the Rizzolis and the Taluccis were the nucleus of the neighborhood. Angela and Carla fantasized about eventually becoming in-laws, but Georgie and Bobby always went for the girls who wore lipstick, not the ones who nursed bloody noses in exchange for foul shots, and Gina ended up marrying a boy from the next block over.

Regardless of their kids' choices as they'd grown, Carla and Angela remained best friends. Angela told Carla everything, so she already knew the whole story of Maura and Hope. She was also a great conversationalist and Angela figured she would be able to keep Constance distracted while Maura was in the main house with Hope. Angela poured them each generous glasses of wine.

"So," Carla started loudly, "Our little Janie is finally having a baby." She smiled as she took the glass and tasted the dry pinot noir. "I hate to say it, Ange, but I had my doubts about her. When she went into the academy, I thought that was it. She's always been tough as nails, and most men don't like that. But did you see the way she looked at Maura? Like there was nobody else in the room." Carla shook her head, smiling.

"She's lucky to have Maura," Angela tipped her glass at Constance, who sipped nonchalantly from hers.

Carla set down her glass and crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter. "You know, I always thought Jane was a little butch. The way she'd compete with those boys like she was one of 'em. And she usually beat them at their own games. I know you wanted a girl like Gina, who would wear pink lace and play tea party, but I admired that Janie wasn't afraid to get dirty."

"Sure, you didn't have to take her to the emergency room every time she got scraped up. I swear, I was on a first-name basis with those doctors." She looked to Constance to see if she earned a laugh, but Constance didn't seem to be paying attention. Her glass was less than half-full, though. Stress drinking, Angela thought. She should start to relax soon.

Carla chuckled, "I had my share of trips to the emergency room with my boys." Carla turned to Constance, who only seemed to be half-listening to the conversation. "I bet Maura wasn't like that, was she, Connie?" The unfitting nickname got her attention. "I bet she was a sweetheart. She probably had boys coming to call from miles around. What a beauty!"

Constance finally joined the conversation, albeit reluctantly. "Maura had her share of attention." When both Carla and Angela remained silent, expecting her to elaborate, she explained, "She didn't seem to notice, though. Maura was a very conscientious student. She wasn't interested in boys. I think they were too immature; she could see right through them. She was always focused on her schoolwork."

"Were you surprised when she came out?" Carla was never one to beat around the bush.

Constance thought for a moment, then answered, "She never did. Not to me." She sighed, then smiled just a tiny bit, and said, "I was visiting her in Seattle, shortly after she finished her medical degree. She was spending long hours in the hospital, so I met her there and had the opportunity to speak with some of her peers." Her fingernail tapped the glass. "They were intrigued by her. As if meeting me gave them some sort of insight into her." She gave her head a small shake and made eye contact with Carla, then summed up her thoughts, "They were obviously curious about her, perhaps because of her intelligence and, well, she doesn't make friends easily. But there was one woman in the group who was quiet. At first I thought she was shy, but the way she looked at me, and then at Maura when she arrived, I was sure there was something between them. Or there had been. In any case, that was when I first considered that Maura could love a woman. Then when I met Jane, it was unmistakable. She was smitten."

Angela was floored. "You knew even back then? And you didn't tell me?" She earned a chuckle from Constance. "I must be an idiot. Jane kept insisting they were just friends, even up to a few months ago! And even now, she says she's not gay. I don't understand her."

Carla laughed, "Oh, honey, Jane is definitely gay. She is in love." She drew out the last word, teasing. "And Maura, too. I mean, I never met her before, but she just beams when Jane looks at her." Carla sipped her wine. "Oh, Ange, they're going to make great parents." Angela smiled at this, imagining their baby, the spitting image of Jane. "And you know, as soon as that baby starts fussing she'll understand." She paused to refill Constance's empty glass. "What it's like to be a mother. Why you were always worried and fussing over her. She'll thank you, mark my word. All the things you did for that girl. You too, Connie, I'm sure. Maura might not appreciate all you do for her now, but when she's a mother, she will."

Constance looked down into the deep red liquid and said softly, "She doesn't know."

Angela and Carla exchanged worried glances. Angela put a reassuring hand on Constance's back. "Sure, she does. You and Maura are more reserved than we are, but Maura knows you love her."

"No, I mean, she doesn't know what I've done. And if she were to find out, she likely would not appreciate it."

Carla dared to ask what Angela was dying to know. "What did you do?"

Constance pursed her lips and swirled the liquid around in her glass, watching it coat the sides and slowly slip down. Looking up, her eyes fixed on a carved elephant that decorated a side table in the guest house. Finally, she pushed her shoulders back and declared, "I arranged for Hope Martin to receive a grant to do relief work in Rwanda. To keep her out of Boston while Maura was in school at BCU." Constance looked directly at Angela, then at Carla. "That was where her daughter got sick. And why she needed Maura's kidney."

Angela's jaw dropped, and before she could compose herself enough to comment, Constance continued, "I've spent most of Maura's life trying to keep her away from Patrick Doyle and Hope Martin. I actively hid them from her. She's too good for them. Patrick, especially, would have—" her voice cracked— "gotten her killed. And Hope? Once I found her, I knew she would only lead back to Patrick. I had to keep Maura safe from them both."

Maura had seen everything she needed in Constance's eyes. It was fear and trepidation and love and trust, then she turned and left. That was what Constance did, Maura realized, what she'd always done: she supported Maura when she needed it and gave her every opportunity to grow. But she let Maura fight her own battles, knowing that Maura had the strength to succeed. Everything Maura had achieved growing up, she did through her own fortitude and intelligence. And that gave her the confidence to reach even higher.

When Constance and Angela followed Carla out the back door, Maura realized that those two women had taught her what it meant to be a mother. Motherhood wasn't a genetic bond, one that had been severed when Paddy took baby Maura from Hope and gave her to Constance. It was a bond that developed over time, the years Constance spent cherishing her, recording and lauding her achievements, even if she often did so quietly. It was a bond formed by the instinct to comfort that Angela couldn't suppress, even when Maura claimed she didn't want it. These women knew her, knew what she needed, even better than Maura knew herself.

With these women in her life, Maura had to remind herself why she'd asked Hope there in the first place. She'd thought she was missing something, a relationship dynamic or a piece of wisdom that could only be bestowed by her birth mother. Now that the opportunity to connect with her was at hand, part of her wanted to follow those women, her mothers, into the guest house and enjoy their company instead. She had to remind herself that Hope, too, could be worth knowing, if only they could get over the initial trauma of discovering their relationship. It was worth trying, she thought, but if it didn't work out, if Hope turned out to be… hopeless… Maura would be able to let her go.

She felt a hand on the small of her back and looked up to see Jane waiting patiently, expectantly, for direction. Her heart filled with warmth and she couldn't help but smile. "Stay," she whispered. "You don't have to." I can do this on my own. "But." I want you to see that she can't hurt me anymore. "Stay." She stood on her tiptoes to give Jane a reassuring kiss, then turned to Hope. "Please, have a seat. I have some questions."

Hope perched cautiously on the edge of a wingback chair. Maura relaxed easily on the couch. Jane sat beside her, holding her hand more for her own comfort than for Maura's.

Maura glanced at Cailin, still curled up in the chair in the corner, avoiding eye contact and playing with her phone, but obviously listening for whatever was about to be said. Maura wondered what it must have been like, growing up with Hope as a mother. She was not envious.

Maura squeezed Jane's hand briefly, then spoke to Hope. "I'd like to know about my birth. Where I was born, if there were any complications, that sort of thing." She paused, then added what she really wanted to know. "How you got involved with Paddy Doyle. What happened when you thought I'd died."

Cailin's head raised briefly, warily. She wanted to hear the story, too. And, Maura realized, Cailin needed to hear it. She'd grown up in the shadow of a figment, an idealized image of what might have been, had Maura lived, and felt like she was second-best. For Cailin's sake, Maura wanted Hope to tell the truth, that Maura was the mistake, not Cailin.

Hope nodded, then placed her hands on her knees and sighed. She cleared her throat and began. "We were so young." She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "I had no idea what I was doing." Finally she looked up at Maura again. "I'd met Paddy at school. He would attend classes even though he hadn't enrolled. He's a smart man, he was simply born into unfortunate circumstances." Maura nodded, understanding.

"Well, I liked that he was different. He wasn't the cavalier upper-crust type of boy you usually meet at Harvard, he was… authentic." She paused, then tilted her head, "I thought I was in love." Maura noticed Cailin's quick glance up at her mother, with narrowed eyes, constricted orbiculares oculi. Was that doubt?

Hope didn't see it. "I learned I was pregnant around Christmas of my freshman year. I didn't tell my parents, and I hid the pregnancy through the spring semester. Then I told my parents I got a job so I didn't have to go home for the summer." Her hands folded in her lap and she glanced over at Cailin, who was again pretending not to listen.

Hope's narrative turned clinical, but only for a moment. "You were born in our apartment in South Boston on August 7, 1976. The labor wasn't difficult, thank goodness. I don't know what we would have done, we didn't have any medical professionals to help us.

"I remember seeing you for the first time." She smiled sentimentally, and Cailin could hear it in her voice. She looked at her mother again, this time with a slight frown and knotted brow. Maura wondered if Cailin had ever heard the story of her own birth. "You were blue and slippery and not at all what I expected a baby to look like, but of course all that was normal. I held you and thought… I can do this. I can leave school. I can marry Paddy. I can give this child everything I have." She was smiling, but then it faded. "Oxytocin is a powerful substance."

Maura felt her face fall. She had been unconsciously mirroring Hope's expression, captivated by the story. When Hope attributed her motherly love and happiness to a post-delivery hormonal high, Maura felt like she'd been punched in the gut. As much as she wanted for Cailin to hear the truth, the truth still hurt. Jane pulled their joined hands into her lap and scooted closer, kissing Maura's temple. It helped some. Maura nodded for Hope to continue.

Hope's fingers wove together and she settled her hands on her lap. She spoke directly once again, despite the strength of feelings she must have had all those years ago. "I slept soundly that night and when I woke, Paddy told me you had died. I'd had so little time with you. I was heartbroken," she said, though she was emotionally disengaged from the memory. Like it was a fable she'd been telling herself all these years, to convince herself it was true. "I slept for days. Paddy tried to comfort me, but it was no use. Finally he got mad and told me I had to leave. Go back to school. He called a girlfriend of mine and she came to pack my things and take me back to Cambridge. He said I could never come back to South Boston. He didn't want to see me anymore."

"But he did." Cailin's voice was almost too soft to hear. Almost. It was enough to distract Hope from her narrative and enough to make Maura's head turn. Cailin shifted, uncomfortable to have their attention, but she repeated, "He did want to see you. He came to see you in Africa and Eastern Europe, in the middle of nowhere, six times that I know about. Probably more. He loved you, Mom. And you loved him. Don't try to pretend you didn't."

Hope's performance cracked. She looked at Cailin and Maura could see her eyes glisten with tears. Finally she nodded, "I did." She smiled sadly and admitted, "I do." She ran a finger along her lower eyelids, carefully drying them. "And I believe now that he loved me then. But he told me he didn't. He was trying to help me move on."

She turned back to Maura, not quite as composed as when she began. "It hurt, of course. Losing you and then losing him, all at once. What could I do, but... go back to school? Be the daughter my parents thought I was, a straight-A student, pre-med." She shook her head. "I was naïve. We were both too young to care for you. It was for the best, Maura. Your parents, the Isles, they did a wonderful job raising you."

"We did the best we could." Constance's voice sounded from the back door. Angela and Carla stood behind her, silently apologizing for being unable to keep her away. "We gave her everything she could ask for. When she wanted to go to boarding school in Switzerland, the thought of leaving her so far away," she choked up and a hand went to her chest as she took a ragged breath then let it out, trying to smile at Maura. "You were so young." Then she looked back to Hope and her voice and face were like stone. "But she wanted to go, and I knew you wouldn't be able to reach her in Europe. So we bought the flat in Paris and took sabbaticals."

Constance took a few steps forward and addressed Maura softly again. "I'm sorry, darling, I knew you wanted to find your birth parents when you came of age. I was selfish, I wanted to keep you to myself. I told myself I was protecting you from Doyle, and maybe that was true. But you deserved to know. You were old enough then. Mature beyond your years. And smart." She paused and broke eye contact, looking down at nothing. "You were following in her footsteps."

A moment of silence passed and Maura thought she should be angry with her mother. That she'd known all along that Hope and Paddy were her birth parents and even when Maura went looking for them, she'd remained silent. Maura was eighteen when she had gone to Harold, the family lawyer, for help. He'd said the records were sealed, there was no way to find them. Now she realized he had been instructed by Constance to lie to her.

Maura began combing through memories, trying to identify other instances when she'd been duped. She'd seen Constance play puppeteer with her father numerous times, convincing him to do something he wouldn't otherwise want to do, and without him even realizing it. Maura learned those cunning tricks of psychology by watching Constance, but she never considered that she'd been the object of them, too.

Sorting through her life, Maura knew boarding school had been her idea. She thought she'd chosen her school because of their strength in the sciences, but it also happened to be in a part of Switzerland where Constance's family had a winter home. Later, after Maura mentioned to Constance her interest in working with AIDS patients in West Africa via Médecins Sans Frontières, she ended up in Ethiopia instead. She'd believed it was because she'd gain experience with a wider variety of pathologies, but as she considered it, the choice may have had more to do with her father's research in nearby Addis Ababa and Hope's relief work in distant Sierra Leone.

Maura should have been angry, but she wasn't. Everything Maura could think of, every time Constance had pulled strings or encouraged or interfered, it was to keep her near. Sure, there were often hundreds of miles between them, but that proximity fit them. Constance was trying to be close to Maura without being overbearing, like her own mother had been. In her own way, Constance was just as fiercely protective as Angela was.

Maura's heart filled while Constance continued her verbal attack. "What I didn't understand," She stepped into the middle of the room so she could look directly at Hope, accusing, "was why you never came looking for Maura. You had to know. Oh, I was thankful, believe me, that you never appeared on our doorstep, but I could never understand how you could go on living your life, as if you hadn't lost the most precious gift you were ever given."

Hope was speechless. She looked around the room for support, but even Cailin watched her expectantly. Finally, she found her voice. "I didn't—" she began, but the look Constance gave her prompted honesty. "Maybe— maybe I knew. Maybe on some level, I had doubts about what Paddy told me." She turned to Maura, trying to explain. "But you have to understand, I was young. I had just given birth; I was physically and emotionally fragile. I was alone. I didn't even think to question what he said until weeks later, when I was back in school. I didn't see him for months after that, it wasn't safe. And even then, what could I have done? You were gone."

She was pleading for forgiveness and Maura was surprised at how unemotional she felt toward Hope, in contrast to the affection she was feeling toward Constance. It was as if Hope was talking about someone else's life. She could see through Hope's excuses, that the woman had been in denial about Maura ever since her birth. That losing Maura and Paddy had been painful and she'd subconsciously detached herself from the event in an effort toward self-preservation.

Maura understood that people did terrible things in the face of pain. Constance had kept the identity of Maura's birth parents a secret for over thirty years precisely to avoid the pain of possibly losing her. Maura had kept her feelings from Jane, afraid she would lose her, and Jane had denied her feelings for Maura because she was afraid of being loved by someone who truly knew her. People did shameful things. Maura understood.

Forgiveness seemed like a simple thing for Maura to grant. Hope's transgression was in the past and, as she'd insisted, Maura was better off with the Isles. The rational thing to do was move forward, forgetting past sins, and forge a connection with her newfound relations. Maura felt unmistakably equipped to do so, calm and collected; the past would no longer trouble her.

Cailin, on the other hand, was in tears. Whether she was imagining herself in her mother's eighteen-year-old position and feeling empathetic, or witnessing her mother's loss of composure and feeling sympathetic, Maura couldn't tell. In any case, she was on the edge of her seat, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, her phone long-forgotten.

Maura stood, intending to give both Martins a tissue, but before she could escape the space between the couch and the coffee table, Hope stood and blocked her path, renewing her plea. "You have to believe you were better off without me. What kind of life would that have been, with Paddy Doyle for a father and… I wasn't equipped to raise a child, not at that point in my life. It wasn't meant to be, Maura, you have to believe that." She took Maura's hands and squeezed them, imploring her for forgiveness.

It wasn't threatening and Maura wasn't the least bit scared, but the contact and proximity startled her enough that she stepped back. Jane must have seen the movement as defensive, though, because she immediately stood and edged her way around Maura to stand between them. Constance, too, moved forward, ready to act as backup, if needed. Hope was forced to let go of Maura's hands and retreat, flinching when Jane growled, "That's enough."

"It's fine, Jane," Maura said, placing a hand on Jane's back. "I'm fine, you don't have to—"

But Jane was already feral. She put her hand on Hope's shoulder, pushing her back and out of Maura's reach. "You sit down."

Hope wobbled on her feet and Cailin jumped up in defense. "Don't push my mom!" She stepped forward and reached out to dislodge Jane's hand from Hope.

Angela and Carla moved in at that point, and suddenly everyone was scuffling. Jane's foot caught on the coffee table leg. She lost her balance and both Maura and Hope reached out to steady her. Constance was gripping Cailin's arm, pulling her away from Jane, and the last thing anyone heard was Hope saying to Cailin, "Careful of the baby."

There was a stunned silence in which everyone caught their breath. Constance released her grip on Cailin. Maura held Jane around the waist and looked her in the eye, tacitly questioning whether she was alright. Jane gave a quick nod and smile, then collapsed down into the sofa again. Angela put her hands on Jane's shoulders and sighed. Carla finally broke the tension when she gave a low whistle and said, "Well, I don't know about you all, but I could use another drink."

After some nervous laughter loosened the room, Cailin stepped back and solemnly insisted, "I would never hurt the baby." She looked pointedly at her mother and said, "You might not want to be her grandmother, but I want to be her aunt." Then turning to Jane and Maura, she explained, "I'd play with her, and read to her. Make sure she's never lonely. You know, when you guys are working or something." Cailin looked around, surprised to have the room's attention. "I mean, that's what family does, right?"

Everyone but Hope was too stunned to answer. "Yes, Cailin, that's what families do." She took Cailin by the shoulders and hugged her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, that you felt lonely. I've never been a very good mother, I'm afraid. If I made you feel like you weren't enough. I never meant to. I'd like to be better." Turning to Maura, she took a deep breath and decided, "For both of you. If you'll give me another chance. I know you don't need another mother," she glanced nervously at Constance, "but perhaps your child could use another grandmother. To do what families do."