Their breakup, or whatever it was, still hurt, but the dull ache in her chest lessened a little every day. “It wasn’t meant to be,” Marianne said. “I think things should work out quickly if they’re going to work out. You should know. Like Mom and Dad. Or you and Darryl.”

Ruth smiled, and it struck Marianne how easy it was to please her sister, to make her happy: like anyone, she needed to be seen, to have her choices recognized and supported. She stood, and Marianne thought that she would hug her, but instead she retrieved something from her purse—a series of abstract black-and-white images in a long roll. Marianne gasped when she realized what it was.

“Eleven weeks,” Ruth said. “That’s from eight weeks, so you can’t see much.”

“It’s beautiful!” Marianne said, not looking up from the fuzzy, television-static image. She wasn’t sure what was baby, and what was Ruth. “Dad knows?”

“You’re the first person we’ve told.”

Marianne sat down amid the boxes, still holding the sonogram. Ruth unbuttoned her pants and sat down next to her.

“I found out not long before we went on the Tour of Life. My first sonogram was at one of GWGW’s schools.”

“Not this one,” Marianne said quickly.

Ruth shook her head. “We were at this sonography school in Alpharetta, on the way back from the Ranch. I’d had a blood test by then, and Darryl said, why don’t we ask them for an ultrasound? He was really proud and excited. It seemed like an okay idea to me, but when they got started, they looked worried. The sonographer couldn’t find anything. Darryl took me to the hospital in Atlanta, and they found the baby, and the heartbeat, and everything was fine. But I was so scared—the whole ride there, in that awful traffic, I thought I had miscarried. I thought it was my fault—for traveling, for putting myself in a stressful situation.”

“Oh Ruth, I had no idea—”

Ruth shook her head. “But that wasn’t what was happening. I was fine. And it would have been one thing if it had been a student, a new student, but it was a teacher who did my ultrasound. We went home after that.”

Marianne reached to take Ruth’s hand, but Ruth crossed her arms. “I was so mad at you, Marianne.”

“But you waited to tell me first,” Marianne said quietly. “Why, if you’re so mad at me?”

“You don’t get it. I look up to you, Marianne.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. If I could take it back, all of it, I would. But the baby’s okay? My niece? Or my nephew?”

Ruth nodded, a little teary, and Marianne said she’d be right back—she needed to get something from the car.