Page 141 of Night of Shadows
"Stefanos Konstantinos."
She says it again. Slowly. Trying it in her mouth. The Greek pronunciation she’s been learning for two months is correct. The accent is on the second syllable. ‘Steh-FAH-nos.’ She says it the way Eleni says it. The way I say it. The way Stefanos Konstantinos, who has been dead for fifteen years and who held this family together until the morning he didn’t come home, would have said it about a grandson he would never meet.
She says, "And if it is a girl."
"Then she’ll be your daughter. You will name her. I will sign the paperwork."
Maeve laughs softly. She says, "I do not know yet. We do not know yet. But Lex."
"Yes."
"If it is a boy."
"Yes."
"He’ll carry his grandfather's name. Stefanos. With Brendan in the middle. Stefanos Brendan Konstantinos. So both grandfathers get to walk with him."
I close my eyes for one full second.
I open them.
I say, "Yes, Maeve. Yes."
She kisses me. The kiss tastes like the salt of a woman who has been crying for fifteen minutes about a name. The lake house is quiet. The lamp is on. We sleep, eventually, with my hand on her stomach and her hand on mine, and the baby, whose gender isn’t yet determined, as the contained, fierce weight of the future this family is now organizing itself around.
? ? ?
Eleni knows. Maeve told her over coffee at 5:00 AM, while the rest of the cabin was still asleep, in the kitchen with the small yellow light over the sink and the lake outside the window. Eleni already knew. Eleni knew before Maeve told her. Eleni had been looking at Maeve at the dinner table the night before and registered the tells of a daughter-in-law who was eight weeks pregnant. And Eleni did what she does: wait to be told by the person who has the right to tell.
Maeve told her at 5:00 AM. Eleni said, in Greek, ‘I have been waiting for you to say so.’ Then they cried in the kitchen for ten minutes. Then they started breakfast.
I come down at 7:23 AM.
The kitchen smells like coffee and the familiar Eleni breakfast architecture, unchanged since I was a child. Bacon in the pan. Greek yogurt and honey in a bowl on the counter. Fresh bread sliced. Eggs Eleni is cracking into a separate bowl for the omelets she’ll make in three batches because the lake house has only one good pan.
Maeve is at the kitchen island with a coffee. Eleni is at the stove. Cormac is at the kitchen table with Nora, who is eating a piece of toast cut into the shape of a dinosaur because Cormac decided that was a thing he could do with a knife, and Nora has not stopped eating it.
Nico and Siobhan come down at 7:34 AM with Sofia. Siobhan in pajamas and one of Nico's sweaters. Sofia in a small green sleeper with a duck on it.
We sit. We eat. The kitchen is warm. The lake is outside the window. The light is the small, clear winter light that means a perfect day.
At 7:51 AM, I stand.
I hold my coffee.
I say, "I have something to tell you."
Cormac says, "Christ. What."
I say, "We are having another baby."
The lake house erupts.
Eleni cries openly. She’s been pretending not to know since 5:00 AM because she wanted me to make the announcement, and now she’s crying with the freedom of a woman who no longer has to pretend. Cormac shouts something incomprehensible that involves the word ‘Christ’ twice. Siobhan stands up and hugs Maeve with Sofia balanced on her hip. Nico is grinning. Nico is not a man who grins.
Nora climbs me like a tree.
She’s in my arms before I have fully registered that she’s moving. Her small fists are around my collar. Her face is at my face level. The look in her eye means she’s made a decision about an important new piece of information.
