Nine months later.

Mary parked the car in the visitor's lot, then she and Michael walked up to the hospital. The morning was cold and her breath was cloudy. Bright yellow-red sunrise filled the sky. If this didn't feel routine already, Mary thought, well it was going to soon.

"Well I hope you're happy with yourself," Mary said. Her feet crunched on the gravel beneath them.

"Are you going to ask me this every time?" Michael asked.

"I will until you give me a straight answer."

"I'm fine, Mom," Michael said, "I'm happy. That should be enough, don't you think?"

"Father Donovan doesn't think so," Mary said, "He thinks we're...