“Pregnancy does something to certain women and, all of a sudden, it’s like everything beautiful in the world is in their eyes and in their body,” I said. “Everything that’s positive and inspiring and lifts us up to God and to the angels. I see all of that in you. It’s the beginning of a life with complete and absolute potential there. And the woman who carries the baby, she’s the creator of that life. She has a little bit of God inside her.” I was doing my best to layer in Madonna and Child subtext, along with the suggestion that motherhood might be Lucia’s calling.

I think I succeeded with my message, because she placed her hand on her midriff, and her expression turned wistful.

“Does he know?” I asked.

“Hmm?” She knew exactly what I was asking.

“The father of the child. Does he know he has a baby?” I asked gently.

Lucia looked out at the backyard, as if something there had distracted her.

I tried to infuse my voice with tenderness. “You should send him one of the photos. It’s the right thing to do.”

As I was reentering the library, I saw Amelia and Natalie standing in the far corner, near the fireplace and bookshelves. Amelia was speaking to Natalie in a hushed voice: “You should be able to figure that out on your own.”

“Don’t you want her to know who we are?” Natalie chewed on her nails.

“Your father and I will take the lead. It is not your place.” Amelia rounded her shoulders and back, exactly as my cat, Eliza, sometimes did. Her feline bearing came into sharp relief when she’d been crossed. I imagined using Photoshop to create an amalgam of Amelia’s image and my cat’s. A cat woman.

Fritz interjected from across the room. “I disagree—”

“Fritz,” Amelia cut him off.

I wondered if Fritz and Natalie heard the steeliness in Amelia’s voice.

Lucia appeared seconds later. Amelia led her back to the sofa, then picked up a photo album from the coffee table and sat next to Lucia in my seat. “These are photos of Natalie as a baby.” Together, they flipped through the pages.

“I don’t think I’ve seen that album.” I walked behind the sofa so that I had a view over Lucia’s shoulder. Long, slow, deep breaths.