Hopefully he wouldn’t finally start with the hard questions now.

Pastor Lewis coughed, clearing his throat. “It’s good to see you, Mina. I’ve been keeping you in my prayers these last few months. You and the baby, too, of course. I was glad that your family invited me here today, though, so I could ask for myself how you’re doing.” He paused, waiting for me to respond.

“I’m doing okay, Pastor L,” I said, forcing my lips into a smile. “Considering the circumstances, anyway.”

“Very good, very good,” he said, knotting his fingers so rapidly that his knuckles made a fierce cracking sound. “Your father tells me, Mina, that . . . How do I say this? The child was conceived in a rather miraculous way. That there’s no father. And that this all started with the appearance of a mysterious woman at the pizzeria one night.”

“That’s all correct,” I said. “I don’t mean any offense to you, Pastor Lewis, but I have nothing to add to that.”

“And I’m not here to disagree with you, Mina,” he said, his voice deeper, more mellow and assuring, like he’d started acclimating to the bizarre surroundings. “I’m here just in case you have any questions, or anything at all you want to talk about. You should know after, what—nearly eighteen years now?—that I’m not a fire-and-brimstone kind of preacher.” He leaned back into the chair, propping one leather loafer against his knee. “I have to admit, even as a Pastor, I’m not the most literal of biblical scholars. Do I believe that God created the entire world in seven days and seven nights? Do I believe that Noah actually loaded up an ark full of animals? That Moses parted the Red Sea?” He cocked one eyebrow dramatically and wriggled his shoulders. “Literally? No, probably not. To be perfectly honest, Mina,” he said, putting a finger to his lips as he leaned in and whispered, “I’m not even sure that I believe in Hell.”

I heard my dad gasp next to him, and I pressed my lips together, stifling a laugh.

“But that is a discussion for another day. My point is that faith isn’t a rigid book of rules to me. I believe in a compassionate, loving God. And I believe in a compassionate, loving Jesus. I might have a fancy certificate saying that I graduated from seminary school, and I might have this fancy collar around my neck, but I don’t have any answers for you today, Mina. I’m as dumbstruck as you are. Faith is one heck of an interesting journey sometimes,” he said, chuckling to himself as he reached out to pat my knee.

“Thank you,” I started, grinning at him in relief. “I was a little—”

“Pastor,” my dad interrupted, his face flushed as he leaned forward to intrude upon our cozy powwow. “I don’t want to speak for you here, but I was hoping you might have a little more insight into what is really going on.”

“And what do you mean by ‘really going on’?” I asked, turning to look at my dad.

“I’m worried,” he said, his blue eyes drilling into mine. “I am scared every second of every day, Mina, worrying about what God is thinking about all this. About how these—these lies you’re telling—could . . . could change your path forever. Pastor,” he pleaded, tilting his head toward Pastor Lewis, “can you really sit there and not be terrified for my daughter’s future?”

“If by ‘future’ you mean whether she’ll make it to Heaven, then no. I’m not scared,” Pastor Lewis said simply, his voice like a smooth touch, gently nudging my father back toward his seat.

“I’m not sure that I believe in Hell either,” I said, feeling encouraged and emboldened by everything Pastor L had said. It felt good to say the words aloud, as if I was freed from something I had never realized was holding me back before now. “I’m not scared, Dad, and I don’t want you to be scared for me either. I just want you to be in my life again.”

“Do you think I don’t want that, too, Mina?” he asked, his voice breaking as he buried his face behind his hands. “It’s tearing every last piece of me to shreds to ignore you like this. This isn’t what fathers do. It’s at least certainly not what I do. I’ve watched you and your mother deal with this for the last few months, and I’m so damn proud of you for fighting through it all, holding your head up high, but I don’t understand why you keep hiding behind lies, Mina.”

I couldn’t begin to respond, not right away. I closed my eyes first, trying to relax my abdominal muscles and breathe in deeply from my diaphragm, a meditation practice I’d been turning to whenever I felt the stress closing in on me. It seemed so simple, but it was more helpful than I would have ever imagined, giving me the strength and calm I needed to make it through my days at school. Ten. I inhaled, exhaled. Nine. In, out. Eight.

“Mina?” My mom laid her hand on my elbow. “Are you okay, sweetie? Does something hurt?” Gracie leaned in against me, curling up alongside my belly.

“I’m fine, Mom. Just trying to stay calm for the baby’s sake.” I took another deep breath in and opened my eyes, locking them on my father’s face.

“I can’t explain why this is happening, Dad, but it doesn’t feel wrong to me. It doesn’t feel bad or dirty or freakish. It feels . . . it feels amazing, actually. It feels like it was meant to be for some reason, like this was meant to be my life. And maybe someday I’ll understand all of it, or maybe I won’t. I don’t know. But either way, this is my life now. This is what I’ve chosen.”

I turned to Pastor Lewis to thank him again, but before I could say anything, I felt a strange tickling in my stomach—like a tiny, fragile butterfly was fluttering its wings for the first time, flapping its way slowly into life. I looked down and grinned, a golden, sunny happiness flooding through my body.

“Did you feel that, Gracie? The baby just kicked!”

“I didn’t feel anything!” Gracie squealed, pressing her head more heavily against my stomach. “Do it again! I’ll listen harder this time!”

“I don’t think it quite works like that, sweet pea. I can’t tell the baby what to do. He or she has a mind of their own. But it’ll happen a lot more, don’t worry.”

I smiled over at my mom and saw that her eyes were wet and shining—she was crying, too, excited, happy tears as she pressed a warm hand next to Gracie’s head on my belly. I could see my own grin mirrored on her, no sign of the pursed lips and tight lines that had become such a permanent fixture on her face.

“Congratulations, Mina. I’m glad to see you’re doing so well,” Pastor Lewis said, rising from his chair to leave us to our family moment. “You’re truly glowing.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, given that I’ve destroyed my social life and I have a whole school filled with people who think I’m crazy . . . but I am doing well. I’m happier than I would have thought possible right now.”

From the corner of my eye I saw my dad stand, too, and for a second, for one glorious, shimmering, perfect second, I thought that he was coming over to join all of us. I thought that he was going to accept me and the baby, even if he couldn’t accept my story. But he wasn’t coming over to me. He wasn’t accepting anything.

Instead he simply left the room without another word, his footsteps echoing through the hallway and out through the foyer. The front door banged shut behind him. Pastor Lewis watched him go with a small frown on his face.

He glanced back at me, his eyes creased with a newfound sympathy. “Please call me, Mina, if you ever want to talk more. I’m here for you.”

I nodded, waving as he turned to follow my father out the door.

I wouldn’t let him destroy the moment. The memory of that first kick, the feel of their hands on my belly, Gracie’s sweet, sticky breath against my face as my mom pulled us all together even closer. This was more family than some people would ever have in their lifetime.

Like my mom had said earlier, my dad had to find his own way back.