The day of the funeral dawned on the shoulders of a sleepless night. The tiny infant slept on and off throughout the night, waking with the gentle snuffling and small cries Julian had thought would bring his wife joy had she lived to hear them.
They had often discussed the baby and the accompanying noises and actions it would bring while laying in bed at night. Wrapped in blankets and propped up on pillows, Julian would sit cross legged at the foot of the bed with her feet in his lap, rubbing her swollen ankles gently. He was a doctor, he should have known. How many times was she dizzy? Her exhaustion had been apparent. How many times did he touch the tell-tale signs of the swelling extremities that would have told him of the preeclampsia. If only he had thought of it. She had laughed and kissed him every time he asked for her symptoms daily, he should have pressed her. As she swayed in the hallway, he met her eyes as she collapsed. It clicked in that moment. He had quickly moved her to their bed then frantically ran down to the street and summoned a messenger to retrieve Asra, the sorcerer and his wife's former master, and his sister.
Portia arrived first, bursting into the bedroom as Julian palpated his wife's stomach, feeling for the baby's position. She was beyond any medical help now, the child would have to be removed if Asra was unable to help with his magic.
Unable to process the reality of the situation in the moment, Julian began assembling the supplies for a cesarean as Portia gently removed his wife's clothing. As she began another seizure Asra appeared in the doorway, immediately moving to her his hands radiating with an energy foreign to Julian. The wild curls, limp and damp against the mattress rose from off the bed as her skin began to glow and emit an icy blue haze. Asra let out a choked sob. Portia began to cry. Julian stood staring at the small woman laying on the bed, Asra was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear him.
Finally a small movement in her abdomen shocked him back to the present. Asra was yelling now. "Do it now, Julian! It has to be done now!" Julian moved forward with his equipment.
It was incredible to him now as he held the small baby that this life, accidentally created in an act of love, was now his only link to the woman who had saved his life and soul and become his world. Their daughter. Their daughter. Who would only know him and second hand stories of a mother who adored her even before meeting her. A mother who crocheted endless amounts of tiny clothing and blankets, who sang softly and rubbed her growing stomach. Their little townhouse, close to the market seemed so big and empty now.
Portia knocked on the door and slipped inside. "Would you like me to take her so you can rest, Ilya?". He never looked away from his daughter's sleeping face "No, Pasha, we are okay, thank you."
"If you're sure... Ilya, you know this is not your fault, right?". Silence.
"No one blames you. There was nothing to be done".
Portia had loved his wife like a sister, they had been so close. He couldn't find the words to respond.
As they stood beside the grave this afternoon he had searched the faces around them for any accusation towards him. Nadia and Asra stood across from him and Portia holding hands and trying not to cry. Mazelinka, the baker and his wife, courtesans, and many of the people his wife had helped with her magic. As they lined up to see the baby and offer condolences he caught a glimpse of movement in the tree line. His eyes sought and found the confirmation of his guilt in the eyes of the man standing in the shadows.
Muriel had loved the woman in that grave. Julian had almost lost her to the mountain man on more than one occasion during their courtship. He had joked to her once that if the child came out with a six-pack and a scowl he was leaving. He knew his bride had never been unfaithful and it had seemed funny then, but breaking eye contact with the accusing eyes he glanced down at the child in his arms. Her downy hair crowned her in auburn ringlets, full lips, high cheekbones. He couldn't help but wonder if his wife would have lived if she had chosen differently. If she would be smiling, nursing a dark haired baby at her breast. No, she would not have regretted her sacrifice for this child. Everything he had ever learned of his wife and her amazing capacity to love told him that she would have no regret over the birth of this child. When Julian looked back towards the forest, Muriel was gone.
The grief was surreal, a righteous pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. He felt hollowed out by the love he held for his wife, his only sustenance the love he had for his daughter. A love unlike anything he had ever felt, a powerful devotion fed by the desire to honor her mother. He walked her around the room singing softly, a song her mother had taught him. He wondered if he would be enough for the baby as she grew. She would have Nadia and Portia, who would both love her as their own, but he had never had much of a father, how would he navigate raising a girl?
He was disturbed from his thoughts by a crashing knock on the door downstairs. He walked carefully with the baby, all wrapped up in a blanket his wife had made for her, down the steps. He opened the door and immediately jumped back in surprise at the imposing figure in the doorway. "Muriel!"
"...Are you going to let me in?"
Julian stepped out of the way allowing Muriel to walk in with his wolf, he was holding a large rectangular item covered in a fur. They stood awkwardly for a second in the foyer.
"What are you doing here? Have you come to start a fight? I can't handle your anger and mine at the same time. I saw it in your face, but you have to know that I did my best, Asra did his best. I am so sorry." But Muriel was not listening, his eyes were softly focused on the sleeping bundle in Julian's arms.
"May I see her?"
"You want to hold her?" Julian sounded startled.
Muriel looked embarrassed and turned away, saying nothing. Julian closed in the few steps between them, pausing in front of the man.
"Here."
Muriel outstretched his hands and cradled the child against him. Julian was caught off guard by the tenderness in Muriel's movements and in his gaze as he softly smiled a bittersweet smile at the baby. For the first time he understood a little why his wife was so attached to her strange best friend.
"Sweet girl" he crooned, "what have you named her?"
"I haven't yet."
Muriel seemed surprised. He frowned then looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again "she liked Evie for a girl, you know. Evie Jane."
Julian had heard her mention that among her top contenders if the baby was a girl. A sharp pain hit him and he remembered the many moments they had imagined the child together, raising it together.
Clearing his throat Julian asked "How do you know that?".
Muriel shrugged "I loved her. I never forgot anything she ever said to me."
They shared the heavy silence for a moment before something broke inside Julian.
"Evie Jane it is, then."
Muriel nodded and spoke very softly to the newly named baby. "Evie Jane, you look like your mommy. She... loved you so very much."
Slowly, Muriel handed little Evie back to her father. He turned towards the fur covered item he had brought.
"I made her something, I had planned to give it to her after... well, here it is now."
He pulled the fur away to reveal a rocking cradle made of dark wood. It has been beautifully crafted, sanded to a satin softness, a forest delicately carved in relief on the side panels. The carving was so intricate, it was truly a work of art.
Julian sucked in a breath "Oh."
"Muriel, it's truly wonderful. Thank you. Thank you." Julian outstretched his hand to his former rival, and to his surprise Muriel didn't hesitate to shake it firmly.
The baby stirred and opened her eyes, locking them on Muriel.
"Hello, little one. Hello, Evie." Muriel crooned, tears gathering in his eyes. Julian spoke softly, his voice betraying the sobs he was holding in.
"Evie, this is your mommy's dear friend... your uncle Muriel. Your mommy loved him so much."
The big man dissolved into quiet crying as Innana the wolf nuzzled him gently. Julian couldn't help crying along with him as Evie cooed softly. Portia, sitting on the stairs eavesdropping, cried silently into her hand. For the first time in the days since his daughter's birth and his wife's death Julian had a small sense of calm and comfort. He knew now that no matter how ill-prepared he was, that enough love could overcome most things. His little girl, much like her mother, was loved by everyone she needed. Her mother's friends were her world, and this little girl would have all the love in the world.