At the party I took a moment to soak everything in. Camille posing in daylight. The children bouncing in a castle. The tres leches cake lit up with candles as if on fire. Men and women sitting on white foldout chairs, grateful for days of thoughtlessness and drinks topped with mint. Karen will you marry, in manufactured clouds. My baby was somewhere out of sight but safe. I looked for her then stopped and laughed and someone I did not know saw me and laughed in response. There was laughter and talk and talk, there was the neighbor’s dog hunting for fallen crumbs. There was a pregnant woman eating a plate of egg rolls, the voice of a man joking about sex. Torn gift wrap tumbled over the grass. Then God showed up. He touched the sky and the unfinished marriage proposal blurred and diluted in the blue. Almost immediately an echoing wind came through the yard and turned over the tables and felled the cake to the ground. The tree branches and its leaves went into violent seizures and the sound of the leaves was like opera applause. I saw Camille screaming in the brilliant white of God. Our baby was gone. No one had seen her go. No one knew where she was. The other children were in the castle, sitting, ready for a nap. Camille had me by the shoulders in a panic but I stayed seated in my chair. I turned to face God. So majestic. He was staring up at the sky, studying His artwork. God said: There, much better.