Mona and Barry are to be married in October, wrote Juliet to Bea, a smile of satisfaction on her face. They could be married sooner but they want to get to know each other all over again--they don't want to rush in to anything, Mona says--but it's obvious they are very much in love. Oh Bea! This is like something out of one of your soap operas--aren't you glad about it? I am--and Barry really is the nicest fellow. He is one of the race that knows Joseph and he and Allan have become fast friends. I know Allan is happy to have another man around--he was growing so tired of being always with us women. He and Barry are always together--and they really do look so much alike! The other day Barry was sitting at the table and I ran in and, thinking he was Allan, threw my arms around him. When he turned around I jumped back about ten feet--but he just laughed and laughed.
Barry is furious at his mother for the way she treated Mona when he was 'dead.' He won't speak to Mrs. Ashbury and she is beside herself with grief. But--she deserves it. She really was horrible to Mona. And Barry dotes on Melanie. The child is always in his lap. She loves him as much as he loves her and the whole thing makes my heart so glad.
I'm getting ready for our new arrival--it won't be long now, will it? How the time does fly. Miss Eppie has been crocheting up a storm and Maggie--
Juliet put down her pen. She did not know how to tell Bea that Maggie was doing worse--she crumpled the letter and threw on her shawl and went out and across the street to see for herself.
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Maggie was sitting on the sofa, propped up with cushions, when Juliet crept in.
"Oh, dearest!" Maggie stretched out her hand. "I'm glad you've come. I was just thinking of you--Juliet, there is something I want to ask you."
"What is it?" Juliet dropped a kiss on the thin, wasted cheek. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Don't look so scared, Mags."
"I want to be buried in the cemetary of the Methodist church, overlooking the sea," said Maggie dreamily. "My mother and father are buried there, you know. Mother--dear Mother--her face seems very near to me today. You'll see that I am--and will you sometimes come and talk to me, when I am there? I'll listen--and it will be such company. And will you bring me the first of the white lilacs, in spring? If you're able."
"Of course I will, Maggie," said Juliet. "But please, don't talk as if you are dying--"
"Juliet." Maggie's eyes were gentle but her voice firm. "Let us not pretend any longer. There are things that need to be arranged--I know it and you do, too, darling. Don't you?"
"Yes--oh, yes," Juliet admitted. "But still, Maggie--it hurts."
"And I want to ask if you and Allan will take Denny," said Maggie without any preamble, "When I am gone."
Juliet sat back on her heels, the breath gone out of her. "You want us to--take--Denny?"
"I want you to adopt him--when I am dead--and raise him as your own. You know I haven't anyone else to take him, Juliet--and even if I did, I'd still want you to have him. Mona and Barry and Melanie have more money, but they are just becoming a family and shouldn't have to deal with a young interloper--and I want him to be raised like you--with all the New Moon traditions and trappings--will you take him, Juliet?"
"You know I will," said Juliet, stifling a sob. "I love him already and I'm honored--but Maggie--I don't know what I shall do without you!"
The girls threw their arms around each other and cried.
"He was the sweetest baby," Maggie wept. "He had the most lovely dark hair and the biggest, dewiest eyes, like a fawn--he looks like his father--and he is so sweet and gentle. Juliet, you'll make sure the world will be good to him, won't you? And Allan will teach him how to be a man--how to be strong and gentle still. Juliet--Juliet--you will love my boy, won't you?"
"I will," Juliet cried. "I'll love him as much as I love you."
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One fine September night, in the very wee hours, before the sun had even dreamt of coming up, a midwife stepped out of the little cottage on Forget-Me-Not Lane. She was a fine, stout lady, strong and placid and calm, which is what made her such a comfort and help to the mothers she was assisting. She had helped many babies into the world--sweet, lovely babies--but never any babies as beautiful as the two she had welcomed into the world that night at that little cottage. She got herself a taxi and went home, thinking with satisfaction that it really had been a good night's work.
Allan Miller had given her a kiss when she presented him with the first of his two new baby daughters, and when she had handed him the other, which was identically perfect, she thought he would bend her backwards with delight, so happy was he. Luckily, his arms were already occupied by the two squalling bundles.
"They're perfect," Allan announced, placing one of the girls in his wife's arms when she awoke. It had been a long, hard night--once or twice he had been afraid for his dear wife--but now that it had passed all was beautiful with the world again.
"Look at her face," Juliet said in amazement. "She has fairy ears like me and Douglas, too! Oh, Allan, they are roses, our girls. We lost one child, once--but now we have gained two. A twin having twins--it's hilarious, it really is."
"Which one will be Stella?" Allan asked. "That is the name we had picked out--and what will we call the other? We should make them draw straws for it."
Juliet studied the faces of her daughters--identical in features and sweetness. The baby Allan was holding had a freckle like a sunburst on her neck. "That one is Stella," said Juliet. "It means star and she has been kissed by a star. The fairies have ordained it."
They made a long list of names for the other. Emily--Ilse--Beatrice--Aileen--Laura--Elizabeth--Rose? Autumn--for she had been born on the first day of autumn. But none seemed to fit.
"Allan," said Juliet suddenly. "A light is on in the War Widow's cottage--something is wrong. Please--go and make sure nothing is wrong!"
Allan would have run to the end of the earth just then if his wife had asked him to, so he went. When he came back a while later his face was streaked with tears--different tears entirely from the happy ones he had been crying earlier. He went to Juliet and took his little daughter from her arms. Not Stella--the one they had not yet named.
"Her name is Margaret," he said. "Juliet--oh, Juliet. Maggie is gone."
