After the contraction passed, she asked, “What did you tell her about Eunjoo and Mara?”

“Your daughter from a previous marriage, and your aunt.”

Calliope sighed. She was accustomed to ignoring his instructions. But this was his home, his people. She sensed his reasons were stronger than her impulse to argue. His mother thought they were married, that these twins were his. How would that affect her search for Andres? And Phoenix? For now at least, she had to pretend. Once she gave birth, she was free to leave.

“Está bien? You’ll stay then and let my family take care of you?”

She nodded.

He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “Thank you, mujer.”

She clutched his hand, as if for balance, though she was the one sitting. She ached with confusion, or the salt miracle was fading.

“Chance … are you in trouble?”

He squeezed her hand. Kissed her again. “It’ll be alright, mujer. I still have a promise to keep, recuerdas?” He let go, stood back. “Now, I’ll go find the medicine man.”

She had one more question before he left. “What’s your clan’s name? Your mother said it in Zuni, but I didn’t understand.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Check your pocket, mujer. I already told you.”

She reached for the figurine he’d whittled for her.

By the time she held the wooden Coyote in her hand, he was already out the door.

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-EIGHT

GOOD LUCK MOTHER

Calliope alternated lying and squatting on a mattress on Malia’s floor, atop a pile of thick blankets, the women of the Coyote clan gathered around her, Eunjoo at the wooden table with several other children and women, eating corn cakes, fried-chicken parts, tamales, noodles, red-chile sauce, and ice-cold watermelon water. Normally it would have smelled delicious, and Calliope imagined she was famished, but her contractions had returned full force, churning her stomach. She sipped water and tried to breathe. They’d given her a dress to wear, lightweight and loose against her body, and it stuck to her skin with sweat.