“What does this mean?” Maggie asked.

Mama looked up from the old table, smiled and said, “The cards, they always say the same thing about Layla. They always show me that Layla is an angel.”

“What do you mean that she is an angel?” Maggie said.

I chimed in and said, “Do you mean that she is angelic, Mama? All babies are angelic, aren’t they? Is that what you mean?”

Mama sat there and the conversation paused a bit. I could see a faint smile and she looked very calm, and then placing her hands on the cards she said, “No, child, Layla is an angel. A real angel.”

I’m not a religious guy and I’m pretty tolerant of just about everything and I had played along with all that had happened with Mama and her beliefs about Layla. I knew that Maggie respected Mama too, but, as Mama was speaking, Maggie and I turned towards each other. As our eyes met, I could see the concern in Maggie’s face, and with a welling confusion and frustration building in me I blurted out, “No, Mama, Layla isn’t a real angel. Angels from heaven don’t exist! We don’t believe you!”