“For a little while.” Lucia gripped the sides of the fruit platter.

“If he came back?”

Lucia looked down and realized that she was still holding the platter. She put a grape in her mouth and then placed the fruit tray on the coffee table. “He won’t.”

“But if he did, would you change your mind?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

I could tell that Lucia wasn’t accustomed to lying. It didn’t come easily to her. Good liars propel their brains and their bodies toward their story with momentum, and they stick the landing. A moment’s hesitation will kill you.

Fritz squinted. He didn’t believe Lucia. Granted, he was asking about an unlikely scenario, but still it was obvious to him and to me that she would definitely change her mind if her boyfriend returned.

“It’s wonderful that you’re so close to your mother.” Amelia pushed her hair behind her ears. “Just terrific.” Amelia’s desperation hung in the air. “You know what I didn’t mention is that you and Natalie have something in common. You both really like to draw!”

“Wow,” Lucia said. As soon as she addressed Natalie, she became far more relaxed. “That’s cool. What do you draw?” Lucia rested one hand on her lower abdomen. I wondered if the baby was kicking.

“Unicorns mostly.” Natalie spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“I love unicorns,” Lucia said with apparent sincerity.

Natalie smiled with half of her mouth.

“You two have a lot in common!” Amelia cried. She was trying to fill the room with enough merriment to distract from her daughter’s unfriendly tone.

Natalie made eye contact with Lucia. “What are your religious beliefs?”

A tingling sensation traveled down my limbs. This line of discussion was the best chance I had.

Amelia’s body jerked in Natalie’s general direction. Her hand reached toward Natalie’s face as if she might be able to stop the words coming out of her daughter’s mouth.

Lucia placed both hands on her abdomen. “I’m Catholic.”

“We’re Jewish.” Natalie projected her voice through the room like a stage actor.

“OK,” Lucia said.

“Do you go to church?” Natalie asked.

“Sometimes.” Lucia scratched her arm and then her shoulder, like she had more than one bug bite.

“We don’t go to synagogue. Dad’s a lapsed Jew.” Natalie spoke as if she were describing the weather on a particularly lovely day. “Mom’s agnostic.”

When I saw the color drain from Amelia’s face, I had a pang of guilt, but the guilt didn’t last long. For the most part, I felt relief and pride in the role I’d played helping Natalie to find her voice. Wasn’t she just speaking her truth?

“OK.” Lucia crossed her legs, a stab at modesty, perhaps, but a considerable effort for a pregnant woman.