Daisy stared up at the big stone structure. What was she doing with him? People who grew up in castles like princes and kings did not allow their heirs to date women who got pregnant with another man’s child. Then, Ken opened the door, a grin covering his face. “There you are!”

The welcome from him helped center her and gave her legs the strength to walk toward him and climb the steps. When she got to the top step, he kissed her and said, “I’m glad you texted about that wreck. I would’ve been worried you changed your mind.”

“You can always depend on Atlanta traffic to be undependable.”

They walked into the massive foyer. The hand-laid tile formed a sapphire blue and gold compass rose in the center of the foyer. A table with a large bouquet of sunflowers sat in the center of the compass. She looked above to the ornate ceiling twenty feet high and all around at the doorways with twelve-foot-tall doors.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor, echoing around them as they walked to a door on the far right. He opened it, and she stepped into a dining room with a table long enough to hold twenty. The room had a glass wall that faced a rose garden. An ivory linen tablecloth covered half of the table, and ceramic bowls and plates in varying colors of autumn graced the tabletop, giving it a very festive feel. A smaller vase than the one in the foyer held a similar arrangement of sunflowers and sat on the unset end of the table as if set aside. From outside, Valerie walked up to the glass door and slid it open, coming into the room. “Daisy,” she said with a smile. “I’m so happy you joined us tonight.”

One of the brothers came through a doorway carrying a soup tureen. Valerie walked toward him and kissed him, so Daisy identified him as Brad. He set the ceramic dish near the head of the table and said, “I heard about the wreck on two ninety-five. I wondered if you would make it in time for dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow and patted him on the cheek. “Auntie Rose would’ve waited for me.” She grinned over her shoulder at Daisy. “She’d have waited on Daisy, too.”

The kitchen door opened again. Jon came through with a breadbasket covered in a russet napkin. He looked at Valerie and Daisy and said, “Hello, ladies.”

“Where’s Alex?”

He gestured with his chin in no particular direction. “Upstairs. She’s on her way down.”

Philip Dixon entered the room through a door opposite the kitchen. As he crossed the room, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I heard it’s chili night.”

Ken looked down at Daisy. “Our mom makes the best chili. She has a recipe handed down from generations of Louisiana Bayou women.”

Daisy’s stomach rumbled. “I love chili.”

Soon, Alex arrived, and Rosaline came out of the kitchen carrying a salad bowl and some glass containers of dressing. They all sat around the table and held hands while Philip asked God’s blessing over the food and his family. Daisy sat with Ken on her right and Jon on her left. He sat across from Alex, who sat next to Brad with Valerie on his left. She sat next to Rosaline.

While the dishes got passed around and everyone loaded up on chili and salad, Rosaline asked Alex questions about the upcoming wedding. “We have a meeting with the Rabbi tomorrow.”

Jon added, “We also found a house. Same neighborhood as Brad and Ken’s.”

Philip nodded. “Good area. Will you close before the wedding?”

Jon smiled and shrugged. “Unknown. I’m going to wave the inspection and try to fast track everything. We’ll see.”

Daisy watched the family dynamics as they scooped soup, buttered rolls, and chatted with each other. They made certain to include her at every opportunity in the conversation. Alex gushed over Camila’s flower samples. Rosaline talked about working with the charity years ago with Daisy’s grandfather. Ken talked about re-structuring the house he bought as he planned the rooms. Valerie talked about painting the baby’s room. Through it all, conversations about Daisy’s parents and brother and herself flowed through the conversation. She had never felt so included in a family not her own before.

At the end of the dinner, she went with the women into Rosaline’s study. Ken’s mom wheeled in a tray with herbal teas and cookies. “Philip and the boys tend to resort to business talk after our Wednesday night dinners.” She looked at Daisy. “I don’t mind listening to it, but since this is your first dinner with us. I’d rather not subject you to it.”

She smiled and took the cup of herbal tea. “It’s part of who they are as father and sons. Besides, Valerie works there, too.” She looked over at Brad’s wife. “Would you rather be in there with them?”

Valerie shook her head. “And miss a chance for some girl talk?” She grinned over at Alex. “I heard you found a dress.”

Alex accepted the cup of tea from Rosaline and said, “Off the rack! I walked into a store this afternoon, and there was. I tried it on, and it needed absolutely no alteration. I can’t believe it. If I was getting married in New York, I would’ve had three designers fighting over the chance to specially design my dress. And here I am walking into a store and thirty minutes later, walking out with the garment bag.” She chuckled. “I feel like that was God saying, ‘You got this.’”

Valerie clapped her hands. “Girl, I told you.”

Alex grinned. “You did.”

They talked more about the wedding and the plans, and Daisy grew more and more comfortable chatting with these women. Rosaline treated her with such kindness. By the end of the evening, Daisy felt like she had gained another friend.

An hour later, Ken walked her to her car. She leaned against the driver’s door and looked up at him in the moonlight. Around them, she could hear the sounds of crickets and, far off in the distance, an owl. He smiled down at her. “Sorry to abandon you to the women after dinner. A rather archaic tradition.”

She grinned. “I liked it. We talked about wedding stuff. Last night when we did that, you and your brothers escaped, so I figure you probably would rather not have been with me anyway.”

“We had some work details to discuss. The conversation devolved into talks of overhead and profit margins.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaned down, and kissed her softly. He raised his head and stared at her for several heartbeats before he said, “Be safe going home.”

After she got into the car, he tapped the roof, and she drove away. As she came to the end of the drive, his truck lights appeared in her rearview mirror. She found herself grinning almost the entire way home.

Mrs. Yancey followed the rest of the class out of the room but paused at the doorway and looked back at Daisy. “I’d stay and help with the room, but I have an appointment.”

Daisy shook her head. “It’s not a problem. I’ll see you Sunday.”

She planned on breaking the news of her pregnancy with the women in her class today, but she just completely lost all courage as they went through prayer requests. Instead, they continued to study the Gospel of John, and she prayed again for God to endow her with the courage to admit her mistakes.

As she stood, she cried out, and a sharp cramp forced her to sit back down again. She put a hand over her lower abdomen and tried to breathe around the pain. Moving with very precise and cautious movements, she slowly stood up again. She didn’t need to look to confirm that she was bleeding.

“Okay, Daisy, think straight. Don’t panic.” She talked to herself the entire walk down the long church hall and into the parking lot.

She drove straight to the hospital, and gingerly walked into the emergency room. The woman at the front desk looked up at her and asked, “May I help you?”

Daisy nodded and tried to speak around her dry mouth. “I am fourteen weeks pregnant and cramping and bleeding.”

The woman immediately stood and gestured toward triage. “Go on in there, hon. I’ll meet you.”

It didn’t take long to get her triaged and registered. Soon, she lay in a bed and stared blankly at the tech who wheeled in an ultrasound machine. She plugged it in, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pink sheet that she used to cover Daisy’s lap. Then she lifted up the bottom of her gown, exposing her abdomen. She held up a squeeze tube of gel. “Don’t worry. I keep mine warm.”

The sensation of the warm gel hitting her flesh felt weird. Daisy wondered in the back of her mind if cold gel might have been better. The tech moved the wand across her belly, tapping on the keyboard. Daisy could see the screen and the images that appeared. A shiver started in her belly, a reaction to the gel cooling in the air.

She gasped as the baby came into the picture.

The first ultrasound she’d received, the baby looked like a little kidney bean. Today, it looked like a full-fledged baby. She could make out the head, the body, even the little nose.

“Here we are, mama.” The tech tapped and zoomed and clicked on the keyboard, then hit a button, and the room filled with the noise of a beating heart. It sounded like it came from under water.

“Is that me?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nope. That is that little person right there.”

Daisy stared at the image and realized that a part of her had hoped the cramping and bleeding meant the worse. The tech left, and she lay there, cold and shivering under the thin blanket they left her. She analyzed her feelings, digging through, and finding the root of the disappointment.

Shame.

Despite everything, she still felt ashamed by what she’d done. How could she get past that?

Before she could start a conversation with herself, the doctor came into the little room. “Ms. Ruiz, how are you feeling?”

What a loaded question. She bit back the sarcasm that sprang to her tongue and said, “I’m still cramping.”

“I’m sorry. You can take something from an approved list.”

Out of nowhere, a sob escaped. The doctor sat on a stool and slid closer to the head of the bed. “Is the pain that intense?”

She put a shaking hand over her eyes. “No. I—” She gasped and cried and struggled to find the words again. “I just found myself hoping that this was over. That somehow, God had intervened on my behalf.”

How could she feel this way? This little child inside of her with that beating heart belonged to her and her alone. Despair overwhelmed her heart until a bitter taste filled her mouth.

The doctor slipped a pamphlet out of her jacket pocket. “Is the father with you?”

Daisy fisted her hand and hit the bed. “No. I imagine he’s with his wife somewhere.”

After a long pause, she said, “I see.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The storm had passed. Embarrassment clawed at the back of her head from her emotional display. Shame filled her heart from the thoughts she’d had.

“Your blood work is good. Your HCG levels are on point. The baby looks great. That little heart is beating perfectly. There doesn’t appear to be any distress. The ultrasound showed a small subchronic hematoma. That’s when the placenta has slightly detached from the wall of your womb. It’s not uncommon, and I don’t see evidence of a serious risk factor. What you should do is go home and rest. You need to stay hydrated. Call Doctor,” she paused and looked on the paper, “Reynolds in the morning. She’ll have access to our reports and imaging and will be able to monitor it. If the hematoma doesn’t get bigger, you have nothing to worry about.” The doctor set the brochure on the tray next to the bed. “I’d like to add that if you’re not ready for a baby, you have other alternatives.”

As soon as she realized what she meant, Daisy’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “No! No! I couldn’t possibly.”

“It’s not a recommendation. But, sometimes, your emotional state is worth protecting, and sometimes termination is the best way to do that.” She stood. “Do you have any questions?”

Daisy’s mind whirled with questions, but she didn’t want to talk to this particular doctor anymore. “No. I’ll talk to my doctor tomorrow.”

“I understand.” She walked to the edge of the curtain. “I’ll send the nurse in here to discharge you.”

Daisy lay on the bed, staring at the still ceiling fan above her. She noticed a cobweb that reflected the light and realized she should probably dust. Letting out a deep sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach.

She hadn’t left her bed for anything other than necessities since Thursday evening. She lay there, blankly staring at the television as she binge-watched some ridiculous television drama, and over and over again thought about how she felt as she went into that emergency room thinking she might lose the baby.

All evening Thursday, all day Friday, all night last night, the thoughts overwhelmed her until her mind swirled. She answered texts from Ken with generic platitudes but didn’t engage him. Camila came by, but she didn’t get out of bed, and she left after making sure she was “okay.”

“Okay.” What did that mean, anyway? No, she was not okay, and she didn’t know how she would ever be okay again.

Now, like a whisper in her ear, she thought of how much easier it would be if she had just silently lost the baby. Most people she regularly dealt with would never even know she’d ever been pregnant. She wouldn’t have to face her grandparents, experience their disappointment. Ken wouldn’t have to pretend to connect with another man’s baby.

The sob tore through her, surprising her. She curled into a ball, as tightly as she could, pressing her knees to her eyes. The idea of what she wished had happened actually physically hurt her heart. Did it point to a lack of trust in God?

A horrible sound filled the room, something that would come from a wounded animal. She gripped the covers and pulled them over her head. Even though she knew she should pray, she couldn’t find the right words. How did one pray in a situation like this? For what should she appeal to God to do?

Make the “subchronic hematoma” bigger and, in doing so, place that perfect baby she’d seen on the screen in mortal danger? Is that what she actually hoped for?

Or did despair and shame flood her with the impossible desire to go back and reset her decisions so that the day Ken walked into her office, she could face him pure and unblemished?

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded of herself.

Her doctor had suggested taking a long weekend of bed rest. Today, though, Jon and Alex would get married. She needed to get up and face the day, face Ken and his family, and actually look herself in the mirror.

It took hours before she garnered the energy to get up. The cramping had eased considerably, the bleeding much less. The gray and dark skies fit her mood perfectly.

Lightheaded, she headed downstairs. Her body said to eat, but her soul rejected the idea of using energy to digest food. She settled on a bowl of plain yogurt. She curled into the corner of her couch and slowly ate it, not really tasting it, staring blankly at the dark television screen.

After the last bite, she carried the bowl into the kitchen and rinsed it out. As she went to put it in the dishwasher, it fell out of her hands. For several moments, she stared at the broken pieces on the floor. Then she left them where they fell, shutting the light off behind her.