"No, not yet. Why have I had to live all these lives? What's the purpose?"

"The purpose? You don't remember? You don't remember betraying your own father? You're doing it now with that bitch in the hospital! Only this time it's going to be different if you keep it up, my boy. Oh, yes, this time you're not going to have another chance. Even a father loses his patience after this long. Every life you get more and more like your mother. Both of you promise and both of you lie.

"Maybe it's just in your blood. Maybe I was wrong to think if I taught you, if I raised you right, you'd be different and see how much better it is to be like me. Like your father!"

I spoke as coolly as I could. "My father is in Atlanta."

His answer was cooler. "Oh, really? Watch the television. See for yourself, Walker."

In an instant I knew the place. I'd been there so many times since my parents told me where I'd really come from. The alley behind Conroy's Restaurant in Atlanta. The only things different were a 1956 Chevrolet parked there, and the area looked much cleaner than I remembered. At the far end of it, a midget appeared holding something in his arms. Something large and wrapped in a white blanket. He went straight over to one of the garbage cans behind the restaurant, and after first kissing the thing inside the blanket, laid it down carefully inside one of them.

He hovered over the can and whispered, "This time. Come home this time, Walter." The sound of someone approaching made him pull back fast. After one last tender look, the little man scurried away.

From the other end of the alley a bum slunk in, looking into every garbage can along the way. When he reached this one he looked once, twice, and suddenly his face said everything. He lifted the white bundle gingerly out of the can, and for the first time I saw that there was a note pinned to the blanket. The bum saw it too, his drunken eyes trying to focus.

"Holy shit, a baby! Wait, what does it say? 'His name is . . . Walker? Please take care of him.' Well, holy shit, Walker. Looks like someone doesn't want you." Cradling the baby to his chest, he staggered away. Along the way, the note fell off without his seeing it.

Shortly after he left, a motorcycle roared through the alley and ran over the note. Somehow or other it stuck to the wheel.

"Now tell me my name, son."

Without my touching it, the monitor rose off Maris's table and exploded in midair.

"Fuck you, Papa."

"How are you?"

"Okay."

"You don't look okay. You look very un-okay."

"Worry. It gives you wrinkles."

"Come here."

"I can't move."

"Come here anyway."

I got up and walked over to her bed. She looked both pale and radiant.

"We're going to have a baby. What do you think of that?"

"I think I love you and I'm very happy."

She frowned. "You don't sound excited."

"Maris, I don't know what you're supposed to say when you find out you're going to be a father. I guess I'm in shock."

"That's better. I think I am too, but it's nice, isn't it? I was so scared last night. I thought this is really it, folks. My time has come. Crazy how twelve hours later you can be glad for all that blood."

"What did the doctor say?"

"That it'd be best if I stayed here flat on my back for a couple of weeks. That part I don't like – it means we can't get married till I'm Out of here."

"That can wait. Neither of us is going anywhere."

She took my hand and squeezed it. "What shall we name it? I've been thinking ever since they told me. I hope you don't mind, but I don't want to call it either Walker or Maris. I don't like it when people name their kids after themselves."

"I agree. How about Walter?"

"Walter? Where'd you get that name?"

"Nowhere. It's a joke."

"'Walter Easterling' sounds like a fat banker." She squeezed my hand again. "They've given me every test in this hospital. They're very nice about it, but every time someone new comes into the room they want to give me another test."

"Maris, I'm sorry if I'm not good company. I'm sort of stoned right now. You're the one who went through all the pain, but I'm woozy from sleeping in the waiting room, I guess."

"I can see. When they told me you did that I wanted to run out and kiss you. That wasn't necessary, but I'm secretly glad you did it."

Although she'd been through hell the night before, the news of the child had so buoyed her that she chatted away until she was exhausted. It showed in her eyes first – I literally saw something leave them before they dropped closed for a long second.

"I think I have to sleep now, my friend."

"Okay, sure. But you feel better?"

"I feel terrible, but I don't care. We're going to have a child, Walker. You know how much I want that. I never told you before, but once when I was with Luc I missed my period for a couple of weeks and thought I was pregnant. I've never felt so torn in my life. When my period came I was so happy I cried. I've always been ashamed of that, the being happy, but now I know I was right. Now the whole thing is right and I feel like the best is about to begin for us. It's the truth."

"That's a great compliment, you know?"

"It's going to be a good baby. You deserve the compliment."

I called from a phone booth near her building.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Benedikt? This is Walker Easterling. Mrs. Benedikt, would it be at all possible for you to talk to me for a few minutes? It's really extremely important."

"No. I don't know. I don't want you coming up here again after what happened last time with Lillis. You understand."

"I do, I understand completely. But we can meet in a cafй. Mrs. Benedikt –"

"Why do you want to talk? I told you everything."

"It's about Kaspar Benedikt. I have to tell you something that I found out about him."

"Like what?"

"Please come and meet me. I'm five minutes from your place. We can go to the cafй across the street."

"All right, but only for a few minutes. I'll get Herr Lachner to sit with Lillis."

She came into the cafй wearing an orange housedress and pink bedroom slippers. The waitress knew her and brought over a glass of white wine without being asked.

While she drank I looked closely at Elisabeth's face, trying to find the woman of my forty-year-old dream. Some people keep their looks all their lives. Whether they get fat or thin, the face stays with them, like their fingerprints. Moritz's wife was from the other group. In my dream she was thin and drawn from the war. Since then, she'd traded her face for potatoes and bread, and white wine at eleven in the morning.

"What do you want today?"

"You said you believed Kaspar Benedikt had special powers. Did you mean that?"

She drank and nodded at the same time. Her glass was already three-quarters empty and she signaled for another. "I told you, I come from Greece, so I've seen some people with powers, mister. Believe it or not, I've seen ghosts, and a woman told my future exactly by reading lamb bones."

"Yes, I remember that. If you do believe, Mrs. Benedikt, then I want to tell you a dream I had. It might scare you, but it's necessary that you hear it."

"When you've lived with a midget, then a war, then Lillis, not much scares you. Tell me."

"Okay. In the dream I'm coming into the Westbahnhof on a troop train from France. The train cars are all green brown and they're filled with soldiers coming back after the war. I'm looking out the window of our car but I can't see you or Papa." Elisabeth's mouth tightened when she heard that word. I expected her to say something, but she only closed her eyes and shook her head. "Should I go on?"

"Yes."

"I'm trying to think of what I'm going to say to you if you're there, but my mind is blank. Tonight, or whenever I get you into bed, I'm going to tell you that. I'm going to tell you I'm so excited to see and . . . touch you that I don't know what to say."