Stefan said, “Since we’re all saying this big stuff, can I just say one thing to you, Tia Phoebe? I mean, congratulations, but something else? The photos you sent me were the best thing anybody ever did for me.” What Phoebe mailed to Stefan every month was a lifeline into our lives, the Christmases and picnics and birthdays and baptisms, the chocolatey smiles, bursting golden turkeys and kokkina avga, red Easter eggs, he would never see, in envelopes of four-by-six photos. I thought it would be too painful for him. But Phoebe, like my father a gifted photographer, and also the tenderest of women, insisted, and prevailed.

“We would like you to be our baby’s godfather, Stefan,” Phoebe said then, and Walker nodded, taking Phoebe’s hand.

“Me?” Stefan’s face strobed surprise, puzzlement...and pride. “Really?”

“If you can bring yourself to drive three and a half hours in four and a half months!”

Stefan regarded his splayed hands. “I can’t do that, Aunt Phoebe. I’m so sorry. I can’t go to any other state or anywhere more than fifty miles from here, and then I would have to get special permission from my parole officer and do a check-in every three hours.”

“Oh, Stefan, I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to say anything that would hurt your feelings!”

“Of course you didn’t!” my mother said loudly and unhelpfully.

“Mother, do you have to make it worse?” I said to her. “Why are you being a pain?”

“We’ll do it by Skype,” Walker said. “Or we’ll bring the baby here. I’m sure he’ll still be pretty small and portable. A church is a church.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Stefan said. “But it would be great if you want to. I’d really like that. I’ll be a godfather! Then a job, then a college degree, a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model who’s also an orthopedic surgeon and a millionaire...”

He meant to be funny. Just funny.

He was a twenty-year-old guy who had every right to make a comical wish to fall in love with a beautiful girl.

This time, not even Phoebe spoke. Finally, the only sound was my father’s long sigh. My father could sigh for Greece. “That will really take time,” my dad finally said.

I could feel myself begin to combust. Julie quickly marshalled the kids to clear the table, then fired up her espresso machine and began taking orders. “Can you come out here and help me, Thea? This one is new, and it’s got more knobs on it than a nuclear reactor!”