She weighed just under seven pounds and had no hair whatsoever. The first few times she was brought to me for nursing, my joy over this tiny creation was undercut by apprehension. The veins in her head were so large, so near the surface, that I feared she was missing a necessary layer of skin. The doctor assured me she was perfectly normal. But it was really a nurse, Miss Pennington, who put my fear to rest. Whenever she brought Regina to me she would quip, “Here’s Mrs. Mattison’s little road map.” And Frank studied Regina like a road map. He would hold her and look searchingly into that little face, then say he was sure she was going to look like me.

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “It’s too soon to tell. She hasn’t even got hair yet. I just hope baldness doesn’t run in your family.”

“It doesn’t,” he returned seriously.

I knew by now he did not welcome any reference to his family. But the day we left the hospital with Regina, he was faced with more than a reference: Vivian was waiting for us in the lobby.

Smiling, she stood up and came toward us. She had cut her hair since we saw her last, and she looked more like Frank than ever. She was still far from beautiful, but quite striking and obviously unselfconscious about her height, because she wore heels and did not slouch in the least. I was carrying Regina and Frank was carrying the two plants some of my students had brought me. As soon as he saw Vivian, he tucked one of the plants under his arm, then gripped my shoulder to steer me to the door. Vivian halted and made no attempt to follow us: that alone made me angry with Frank.

“You can’t do this to her,” I said, pulling away from him.

“She can’t do this to us!” he hissed. “Come on!”

I glanced over my shoulder at her. She stood there tall and proud, yet looked at me helplessly.

“You can at least let her look at the baby.”

“No.”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“You don’t know her. She’s not worming her way in. You made a promise to me, Irene. Now keep it.”

We continued on to the parking lot. I got into the car but Frank didn’t. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and started for the lobby doors. Vivian came through them and met Frank on the steps. Frank spoke, then she spoke, then she reached out to touch his hand and he pulled back from her. He said something else as he backed away from her. She remained on the steps. We drove home without saying a word to each other.

A few days later, a typewritten envelope with no return address came for me. Inside was a note from Vivian explaining the accompanying check: a thousand reoffered as a wedding gift and a thousand to begin a savings account for the baby. I debated with myself over telling Frank and finally decided not to. I stuck the check in my jewelry box and for a week I considered opening a secret savings account. I watched Frank carefully that week, the way he lingered at the crib staring at a miracle, the smile on his face as he sat with his arm around me while I nursed the baby.