Ming-Ji had set a laundry tub on the kitchen table and was using a pot to fill it with water from the sink. A block of oatmeal soap floated in the water.

“It’s my turn,” Nola said. “You’ve been much too good to me.”

“Bring baby.”

Lulu met the feel of the warm water with awe. Her little foot swayed in the water, then the other, tentatively, like two puppies poking out their noses to explore unfamiliar territory. A moment later, the expression on her face changed to one of delight. Then there were legs kicking and water splashing, and Nola’s face getting wet and her shirt becoming soaked with water; and Nola's laugh rolling away from her, and more of Lulu’s legs pumping, and Nola’s grabbing the little foot with her mouth, prompting a cascade of baby laughter; and more spraying in Nola's face, and Lulu's boundless belly gurgle; and there was so much happiness Nola didn’t know how to contain it, until she felt the wetness on her face that was soapy but also salty from her own tears.

Ming-Ji introduced plastic cups and tin spoons, moving them in and out of Lulu's vision in a game of hide-and-seek. “Baby clean,” she finally said. “Eight hours since you find her? Feed her, then she sleep the drug off.”

In the only bedroom in the apartment, Nola laid Lulu on one of the two cots and surrounded her with her bag and pillows. She chanted good night, ending it with the puckering of her mouth in a show of a kiss. Lulu’s cupid lips mimicked the gesture. She accepted the pacifier, the corners of her lips extended in a quick smile, and closed her eyes.

Ming-Ji, who stood watching, followed Nola back to the living room. “You got outstanding baby.”

Nola could not contain the wide smile. “Yup.”

“Mentally, she many months ahead of age group,” Ming-Ji continued. “Very much rare for seven-month baby to speak. She know Chinese sounds.”

“She speaks?” Nola felt a little pang of regret about being unable to ever fill that cultural void even if she hired a tutor. “Maybe she’s older.”

“Eye-hand coordination good, too, but not exceptional like speech. Her size, teeth and motor skills—try sit by herself—consistent with seven-month-old, not much older.”

“She loves music.”

“I don’t surprise if she imitate rhythm. Try banging with spoon.” Ming-Ji demonstrated two, then three consecutive taps in varying rhythms. “She also have instinctive counting ability. I test her when I put three items in tub. When I hide one, she look for it. I try four items, too, and she look for one I hide. This baby off charts.”

“A genius.” Nola laughed. She didn’t say what was surely on Ming-Ji’s mind, too. Recognizing her daughter’s brilliance, Lulu's mother had sought to give her more than just life. The alternative for this sunny and gifted baby was unbearable to fathom.