“But, what do we do?” Sarah asked, panic climbing into her voice.
“We pick a name and raise the child as best we can,” Camille answered.
“We wanted Tom for a boy, and Rose for a girl. But what do we do now?”
As if in answer, the strangest thing happened. A small kaleidoscope of butterflies flew in the window. Odder still, almost all of them landed themselves on the bed around Sarah and the baby. They were Eclipse butterflies, the males yellow (like the sun) with streaks of black (eclipse) and the females (the eclipsed sun) black-ish in that iridescent way many insects could show color, six in total, three yellow and three black. Once they were settled, we all looked up to see the final butterfly settle on the open blanket of the sleeping infant. It was neither yellow nor black; it was b
