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more controlled environment. Stability. A normal life of school, ballet lessons, and friends.
    She patted her father’s hand. “Got to go back when the CDC calls.”
    “So it’s measles?”
    “Yes,” she hesitated. “Can’t let it get worse.”
    “Worse?” Papa pushed himself upright, his white hair wild and restless as a desert wind. He eyed her carefully. “How can it get worse?”
    “A virus must mutate to survive. Epidemic is its ultimate goal. This is a virus that could easily gallop out of control.”
    “Sounds like you’re going to need your strength to fight this one.” Papa wrestled his lanky frame from the afghan. “How about I fix you something hot and solid to eat?”
    “How about some more of those cookies you made?” It took everything she had not to throw herself into his arms and tell him just how frightened she was. What if she couldn’t keep this virus in check before someone else died? “Thanks for taking such good care of Maggie.”
    “A real corker, that one. Got your beauty and my brains.” Papa winked and swung his legs off the couch. “We had to set up Santa’s snack by the front door. In Miss Magdalena’s opinion, the man in the red suit’s way too fat and way too smart to try comin’ in through this fake gas fireplace.” Papa refused to call Maggie by anything other than her proper name, the name that had belonged to Mama. It kept the extraordinary woman alive for both of them. “That girl won’t be put off much longer. You’re going to have to let me teach her more than her daddy’s language.”
    “Learning Latin won’t hurt her.” Lisbeth pulled Maggie’s note out of her pocket. “But finding out about the cave before she’s old enough to understand could. I thought I made it clear that I would decide when to tell her about what happened in the desert.”
    He held up his palms. “Haven’t said a word.”
    “Then why did she draw this?”
    Papa fished his glasses from his pocket. “It’s a family. Every kid wants one, right?” He lightly tapped her forehead. “Anyone smart enough to write notes to Santa is smart enough to ask why he didn’t deliver.”
    “She’s not ready to hear that her father is never coming here.”
    “You were five when I had to tell you your mother wasn’t coming back. We managed.”
    Managed? Yes. But she’d had to deal with the hurt her whole life. “This is different. You didn’t know what happened to Mama.”
    “And you know where to find your little girl’s father.”
    “Going there’s too risky.”
    “Keeping her from him is a bigger risk.”
    “I turned out okay.”
    He nodded. “As long as you’re in control.”
    “What’s wrong with being able to take care of yourself?”
    “Nothin’. But sooner or later the day will come when something bigger than you can handle will come along, and you just might have to let go and trust someone again.”
    “Don’t preach.” Except for Papa, it felt like everyone she’d ever trusted had abandoned her. Including Cyprian. Some days she found it hard to trust the God she’d come to love not to do the same. “What good will it do to tell Maggie about a father she can never meet?”
    “I don’t have all the answers, Beetle Bug. Just make sure your plans line up with God’s.” From his expression she could tell he knew he’d lost this battle, but the set of his jaw told her they would have this discussion again. “Should we wake Magdalena now? Give her a good Christmas before you get called out?”
    “Let her sleep a little longer. The CDC team has to come from Atlanta. That gives me a few hours before I have to go back.”
    “You could also use a little shut-eye.”
    “I can’t let measles win this time.”
    “The future’s a heavy burden when you can’t let go of the past. I know.” Papa drew her into his arms, forcing her to relax a little. Six years since their return to Dallas and he still smelled of the desert right before the rain. He kissed the top