Omar helped me to my feet. Held me while I cried, said, “Lily, why are you sad? This is our child—”

I pushed him away. Stood in my sack dress, filthy, frightened, the sun already beating me senseless. How did I get here? A year ago I was in Boston, sleeping in church basements, skimming singles at my cashier job to save for a flight to South America. “I don’t want to have a kid. Are you crazy? This is nuts.” I gestured helplessly at my belly. “I’m a freaking teenager. I can’t take care of anything.”

“You take care of Charlotte, and those macaws.”

“I don’t even like kids.”

The rapture left his face, and I was ashamed. “Yes you do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Paco loves you.”

A sweetish mealy smell drifted by. A pot of farina boiled on a nearby stove. My stomach heaved again, then settled for the moment.

“What happened to his parents?”

“His mother died in childbirth. His father drank himself to death. His face—no one will take him in like a son. They say he has the mark of the devil.”

“When you say stuff like that, I think Ayacherans are no better than the Tatinga, even though they act like they are. Didn’t the Tatinga kick out For God’s Sake because of his leg?”

His shoulders slumped. “Old ways of thinking die hard.”

With the first consciousness of something growing inside me, I touched my belly with trembling hands and a squeamish fascination. It was no longer flat, but rounded, the flesh firm, as if my body already knew to protect its precious cargo. But how big was it? Like a peanut? All curled up like a little shrimp?

“Omar, we met at the end of March. It’s July. Think about it—I could be three, maybe four months along. Oh my God, I’m so stupid.”

He put his arms around me. “It’s going to be okay, Lily. I love you. I don’t say it very much, but I do. I’ll always take care of you and the baby, always protect you.”

“Who’s going to deliver it?”

“FrannyB’s delivered hundreds of babies. Beya has, too. All the women help. For God’s Sake brings all the medicines we need. But if there are any concerns, the women go to San Solidad.”

“How did we get here, Omar?”

He laughed and drew me to him. “Well, we haven’t been careful. What’d you expect, Liliana? I had this idea it was this unspoken thing between us, that we wanted a family. That of course a child would come from our love for each other, as a natural thing. And that’s what happened.”

“You make it sound so nice.” I began to cry. “So normal.”

“Come on, Lily. You’ll be the most beautiful mother. I can’t wait to see you with our child in your arms.”

We sat close to each other on a bench under the hut, crying and laughing together, watching the women of Ayachero go about their morning duties: lighting the ovens, chopping vegetables, combing their children’s hair. My feelings flipped from excitement to terror and back again as I watched the visibly pregnant ones go about their tasks. Soon, the smell of cooking gruel was eclipsed by that of grilled meat, which for the first time in memory smelled wonderful. I was dizzy with hunger. “Can you bring me some of that?”