Patrick tolerated “the bus people,” as he referred to them, for three days, and he was on the verge of telling them they’d have to move on when Greg announced that Shelly was five months pregnant, expecting in early August, and they needed a place to stay. For one fleeting moment, Deborah wondered if he was telling the truth. Shelly was petite, so slight and bony it was hard to picture her giving birth to a full-term infant. Deborah studied her discreetly. She looked thick through the middle, but that was the sole indication that she was with child. Neither of them seemed embarrassed at her condition and there was no talk of getting married.

Shelly used the occasion to air her views about childbirth. She didn’t believe in doctors or hospitals. Childbirth was a natural process and didn’t require the services of Western medicine, which was dominated by rich white men whose only goal was to undermine a woman’s trust in her body and the freedom to control what happened to it.

That night, Patrick and Deborah had the first quarrel they’d had in years.

Deborah said, “We can’t ask them to leave. You heard Greg. They don’t have anyplace else to stay.”

“I don’t give a shit. He got himself into this and he can get himself out. What the hell’s the matter with him? The girl’s an idiot and I won’t put up with her, pregnant or not. Is he out of his mind?”

Deborah gestured to him to keep his voice down even though Greg, Shelly, and the boy had retired to the bus. “You know if we kick her out, he’ll go, too.”

“Good. The sooner the better.”

“She’ll have that baby in a cornfield.”

“If that’s what she wants, let her do it. She’s in for a rude awakening. Wait ’til she goes into labor and then let’s hear about the joys of natural childbirth.”

“She’s already had one child. I don’t see how the process could come as any big surprise.”

Deborah let Patrick rant and rave until he ran out of steam, and then she prevailed. She was just as repelled as he was, but this would be their first (and perhaps their only) grandchild. What good would it do to voice their outrage and disappointment when it wouldn’t change a thing?

Two weeks passed before Deborah found a moment alone with her son. She’d been working in the kitchen, putting together an eggplant Parmesan that would probably go untouched. Shelly was a vegetarian. Deborah had originally offered to make a tuna casserole, remembering how much Greg had liked them as a child.

Shawn licked his lips, rubbed his tummy, and said, “Yum!”

Shelly put a reproving hand on his shoulder and said, “No, thank you. We don’t believe any living creature should have to die so we can eat.”

As soon as they left the kitchen, Deborah repeated the sentiment aloud, mimicking her tone. Pious twit! Fortunately, they’d planted Japanese eggplant in the vegetable garden. Deborah had gone out and picked half a dozen, which she’d sliced, salted, and allowed to drain.