Tessa nodded and grinned. “Your father confirmed it yesterday.”
Hélène sprang up to embrace her friend, then abruptly drew back. “Did I hurt the baby? Did I hurt you?”
“Not in the slightest,” Tessa laughed. It was so good to hear her laugh again.
“Can Liam and I be the godparents?”
“Of course you can be the godparents!”
“And Joseph can perform the Baptism!”
“Certainly,” he managed, finding it difficult to look at Tessa. How strange, to think that two souls now inhabited one body. Joseph thought he’d accepted his own solitude the day he left for seminary, yet the truth struck him as if by surprise: he would never be part of such blessed news. He would always be a Father, but never a father. He could only watch the progression of others’ lives.
“Can you still come with us today?” Hélène fretted.
“You’ll have to remember that I tire more easily now, but yes,” Tessa assured her. “Irishwomen usually remain on their feet and working till the moment their pains start. We’re a hardy race. I certainly won’t be pulling any fire engines, but your father saysmoderateexercise is good for meandthe baby.”
“We have to think of names!” Joseph’s sister realized. “There are so many lovely Irish names!”
Tessa’s smile faded. “Edward says it can’t be anythingtooIrish.”
“What?”
“You know…like Bridget or Patrick. I don’t think he’d want anything Gaelic, either.”
Hélène pouted, then squeezed her friend’s hand. “We’ll find something, Tessa.”
“It doesn’t matter what we name her. I love her so much already.” As she gazed down at the place where new life knit together inside her, Tessa soon recovered her happiness. “Your father said she’s only the size of a kidney bean at the moment—so that’s what I’ve started calling her: Bean!”
“That small!” Hélène gasped in wonder.
Tessa nodded. “She’s about eight weeks.”
“How do you know she’s a girl?”
“Idon’t, not for certain. But I…dreamt about her last night. Andb-e-a-nis the Irish word for ‘woman.’”
Hélène stooped over to speak to Tessa’s abdomen. “You’d better hurry up, little Bean! We cannot wait to meet you! I’m going to love youalmostas much as your mama!”
“I talk to her too,” Tessa laughed. “I told Bean I’m going to plant a tree the day she’s born, so she can watch it grow along with her.”
Hélène stood up straight again. “When you’ve just given birth! I don’t care how hardy the Irish are—you will not be planting anything! Joseph will do it for you! Won’t you, Joseph?”
“Of course.” He tugged at his choker. September was still quite warm.
His sister squinted thoughtfully at the garden beds. “What kind of tree should we plant?”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“It can’t be anything too big: you’ll want a tree for every one of your children, or the others will envy Bean.”
“Every one of my children?” Tessa echoed with a laugh.
“We must plan ahead!” Hélène turned to him. “What kind of tree would you recommend, Joseph?”
“Dogwoods, perhaps?”
“I think I like those.” Tessa stood to assess the space herself.
