Questions about Arthur will be answered here. Not HERE here, but in this chapter.

Liss: You have been lacking in creative reviews. I'm sorely disappointed in you.

Livingart: Michael likes to see the good in people. He's not the cynical guy we know in today's books

MIA:

Early June and no letter. No loving words of encouragement. Nothing. I was all alone in the world. Well, not exactly. I had this baby. Maybe my mother will take the baby in as her own. The child would be raised as my younger brother or sister. No one would have to know, right?

I sat in the little yard behind the apartment building and threw old bread to the birds nearby. I thought about my terrible situation and how to talk to my mother about it. "Don't be all upset," Lilly said briskly, taking in some sun.

"Why should I not be upset? My husband has yet to answer any of my dozens of letters."

"There could be a mix up or something."

"Or he's fallen madly in love with some snot nosed Brit named Hannah. What kind of name is that anyways?."

"A very nice one. Pretty," she replied. "I was reading about the British and Genovian animosity. Why is that?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to get up. I wasn't used to having such a swollen belly. It ruined my sense of balance. "Because they are stuck up."

"Or you are a little bit," Lilly replied.

I gave her a look. "Did you know what Eliza-"

"Mia!" Mrs. Moscovitz called from their window, cutting me off. "Could you come here for a moment dear?"

I made a face at Lilly. "Are the girls coming by soon?"

"Yes. Come back when my mother is done being Mother Hen to you, won't you?"

I smiled, "Of course. I've missed them so much."

I went up to the apartment and found Mrs. Moscovitz sitting at the table with mail. "What's that?" I asked, my breath caught in the back of my throat.

"You got some mail," she replied.

"From who?" I asked.

She shrugged, but smiled. "Only one way to find out."

I took the envelope and looked at her. She made herself busy, but I still wanted more privacy. I went to my bedroom. What if the letter inside was Michael's way of saying goodbye? That he wanted one of those awful divorces? That he and his dear sweet perfect Hannah were going to marry one another. That they themselves were in the process of having their own child.

It was enough to make one girl throw up. Or faint, or both. But I am of sound strong breeding. My mother taught me to face my greatest fears.

I turned the envelope over and looked at the handwriting for the first time. Not Michael's handwriting.

Not that Hannah's handwriting.

No. It was my brother's.

I stared at it in disbelief. How'd he know where to get me? I slowly opened the envelope and took out the letter.

Dearest Little Sister-

Yes, you are still my little sister even if I am only five minutes older than you. Surprised to hear from me, no? Well, I know you must be worried, so I made it my business to find out how to reach you. Don't bother asking how, all will be explained in due time.

I am very well, so don't fret over me. I was injured in an accident. They are telling me I'll never see out of my left eye again, and that I will be scarred forever in my face. Think Grandmama will still want me to rule over Genovia while I have facial scars? Oh well, by the time it's my turn she'll be gone and most likely it'll just be you and me handling things, right?

I'm so happy that the war in Europe is over. The hospital nearly went crazy when they announced back in April. I must say, your return to Genovia will happen very soon, right? I mean, you are going back there with Mama and Papa, right? I was reading in the paper the other day that Grandmama and Grandpapa will be going to tour the destruction and to discuss rebuilding our home. And that the prince and his wife would be joining them soon. And then their daughter and son would be joining them. Apparently the mentioning of my leaving the family was left to mere lore. That it was just a rumor, right? If they only knew the truth, huh? I can not wait for the reaction of the populace when they see I have no left eye and scarred face. Maybe Grandmere will make it so that they cannot they will not see me until I am made crowned prince.

I only heard about the palace being ruined a few weeks ago, from a fellow patient here. He's from New York and always followed the war with fascination. I'm sure he's the type of guy you would have plastered in that silly scrap book you kept of film stars that you supposedly never knew a thing about.

How is New York, by the way? Are the people heathens as Grandmama always told us they'd be? Do they eat with their hands? Just kidding. I'm sure they don't. What's living in a big city without Mama and Papa like? I'm sure you are very cosmopolitan now. Way too sophisticated for your big brother. I'm sure you've adapted to their ways of life. Meet any guys over there? How about girls for me? You know, the type that wouldn't mind a guy that has to wear a patch over one eye and has a messed up face? Just remind them that I have millions of dollars, okay? And access to crowned jewels. And that they could be a princess.

I must go. A cute nurse keeps walking by trying to get my roommate's attention. It's kind of sad since he's only thinking about his girl back home.

Love,

Simon

PS: Please write back to me. It'll be nice to get some mail while I'm stuck here. They won't let me out until they release the American's I came in with.

My brother. Dear God. He's all right! He's alive! He's safe! I took out my stationary right away.

Big Brother-

Ahhhh! I cannot believe you are here! Well, not here here, but there here. I mean, you are alive! I've been so worried about you! First of all, happy birthday. I can hardly believe we are seventeen now! Almost fully grown up!

To think that this time next year Grandmama would be planning my coming out party! But no, she can't do that. Why you may ask? Oh, I only met the most amazing boy on the face of earth!

Simon, he's perfect. I mean, yes, he is American. But we can look past that, right? Just kidding. He's everything I always said I hated. Remember the boys I used to have crushes on? Duke Livingston's son….what was his name? James? Well, forget about him. Michael is the complete opposite of that boy.

Michael (that's his name) is taller than me (which let's face it, is a feat and a half!), has curly brown hair, and brown chocolatey eyes. He is so funny too. American humour, of course. At first I didn't understand it, but I grew used to it and became rather fond of him. In fact, I'm in love with him. Actually, to get to my point, I'm married now, big Brother. Since December.

I know you always said that you would be the one to pick my husband. To put him through rigorous tasks and whatnot. But I think I made the right choice…at least I hope I have.

I'm expecting a baby in a few weeks as well. But the sad part of it all is, Michael doesn't know. Or at least, I'm not sure if he does or not. See, he's in a hospital just outside of London. I've been writing to him but have not received a response. What do you think of this? I mean, you are over there and all. What is it like where you are? Is it very difficult to get to your mail?

I know this must all come to you as a big shock, but think about how I am feeling!

I'm sorry about your injuries dear brother. I'm sure Grandmama will not be upset about your eye or face. She may use it to make you a war hero to the people. To prove to them that the family did not run away from danger. That 'we' put the youngest heir in harms way to protect them. Right? That sounds like the grandmother we know.

I must go. Lilly, my sister in law, is having friends over. I'm in charge of bringing snacks for everyone. Write back soon dear boy!
Love Always,

Mia (now Moscovitz!)

I sealed it in an envelope and addressed it. He was in the same hospital as my Michael. I noticed this only after writing the address. Wouldn't it be fascinating if they bumped into one another? I'll ask him about it next time. The odds of them actually knowing one another is small; the hospitals are quite large.

Little did I know there would be no time for a next time. In early July I went into early labor.

I kept feeling funny in my belly. Cramps almost. Yes, I guess it would be best described as cramps. "Are you okay dear?" Dr. Moscovitz asked as he came in from work. I was sitting in the living room, trying to figure out the cause of the cramping.

"Um…"

"What's wrong? What is wrong with your stomach?" he asked hastily. "Are you getting pains?"

I nodded, the pains subsiding.

"How often?" he asked, looking at his wall clock.

"I dunno," I replied. Why on earth was he asking that?

"Mia-"

"I uh…" I started, suddenly feeling wet underneath me.

"Oh God. Evie, ring the doctor. Mia is going into labor!" he yelled into the kitchen as he came over to me.

"No, I can't be. It's too soon," I replied nervously. "I'm not due for another month."

He looked a little nervous. "I know dear. I know. Evie! Send Lilly to get the car from the garage!"

My lower lip was trembling. I hadn't been thinking about giving birth. The idea was…well, scary. "I…I am terribly sorry about that mess," I said looking over my shoulder.

"Mia, don't worry about that," he replied, escorting me to the hall. "Evie! Get her bag!"

I have never said this before, but I hated Michael while I was having the baby. I mean first of all, he did this to me (okay, with prodding from me). Secondly, he still hadn't even acknowledged that I was in fact having his baby!

The pain was more than anyone could have ever prepared me for. Maybe that's why Mrs. Moscovitz never said anything. "Is it supposed to hurt this much?" I asked, holding her hand.

She nodded, "Don't worry dear. It will be over soon."

"I just want Michael here," I whined. "Why isn't he here?"

She wiped sweat off of my forehead. "I know dear…I know…"

"No you don't. He's probably off snogging some stupid British twit named Hannah who has the most beautiful handwriting. And she's a nurse! Can you believe it? She gives her time to help sick people. I just sit around and study and read magazines and listen to programs on the radio!"

She smoothed my hair out. "Calm down dear. This is the easy part," she said after another set of contractions. "He'll be here for the harder part of raising this child."

I gave her a look. "But what about HANNAH?"

"I do not know a Hannah," she replied calmly. "Relax dear. Breathe….."

I had Mrs. Moscovitz sitting in the room with me since Dr. Moscovitz was not allowed in the room since he is a man. Better this way. I was way too embarrassed anyways to have his wife there.

"What is it?" I asked tiredly after nine hours of trying to get that baby out of me.

Mrs. Moscovitz was crying.

I don't like crying. "What's wrong?" I asked worriedly. The tiredness I expected disappeared. Was something wrong with my baby?

"It's a boy," she replied, wiping her tears aside. "You had a little boy."

I saw the doctors cleaning the baby off. "What's…wait; I don't want to know what that all is, do I?"

Mrs. Moscovitz kissed my forehead. "I'm going to go tell Dr. Moscovitz and Lilly the news. They've been worried."

A few minutes later the doctor brought my son over to me. "Do you have a name yet for him?"

I stared at the doctor. "I have to name him? Like, on my own?" I asked, shocked. For generations my family had names in place. Grandmere was supposed to name the first born grandson. It was tradition.

He laughed. "Why don't you get to know him a little while longer and then decide? We'll just put Baby Boy Moscovitz on his tag for now, okay?"

I nodded. "Wait, could you send Mrs. Moscovitz in here in a few minutes for me?"

He nodded. "Bond with the boy. Then I'll send her on in to see you."

"Hey you," I whispered to my new son. He was so…tiny. His eyes were closed, but I saw them when they first gave him to me. They were dark. "We have to think of a name for you don't we now?"

I stared at the quiet child for a few more minutes. "Daniel?" I asked. He began to squirm. "No. Not Daniel. Arthur? No…that's too much of an old man's name….Gabriel?" He stopped squirming. I smiled. "Then Gabriel it is, little boy."

A nurse came in and explained to me how to feed him. I hadn't realized what a chore it would be. She explained that I could start using formula when we went home, but that it was rather expensive. Somehow I think we'll manage without it.

"He's perfect," Mrs. Moscovitz gushed as she fluffed my pillows. "Did you choose a name?"

I smiled, "Gabriel. Gabriel Nathan."

I saw her lips twitch. "How'd you come upon that name?"

"I looked at the arch angel up in the corner over there and said Gabriel," I replied, handing him to her. "He seemed to agree to it. And my uncle who died as a child was named Nathan. I thought my father might appreciate it."

"How'd you…." She said, tears forming on her cheeks. "Gabriel was Michael's cousin that died at Pearl Harbor," she explained.

Oh. I see. "He never said his cousin's name," I replied. "If you would rather me choose another-"

"No, no," she replied, "I think it fits him perfectly."

MICHAEL

I saw to it to check every day for Mia's letter. I mean, she is bound to send at least a Dear John one, right? You know, one to break up with me at least. But you can't do that if you are married, right?

"Who the hell is Simon Renaldo?" one of my co-workers asked. I turned to him.

"What did you just say?" I said quickly.

"Simon Renaldo? You know him?"
"He's here?"

"Oh yeah. He goes by something else though," another guy said, coming to pick up his own mail.

"What is it?" my co-worker, Benji asked.

"Arthur. Hey, your roommate," the guy replied. "You didn't know your own roommate's real name?"

I laughed lightly. "Oh, of course I did. I'm just not used to other people knowing," I replied. Shit. It can't be the…wait, How many Simon Renaldo's can there be? "Can I see that?" I asked.

Sure enough. It was her handwriting. She wrote to him. He…had he written to her? "Moscovitz, here's a letter for you," Benji said, tossing me a thin envelope.

I still stared at Simon's name in amazement. "It's…."

"What? You going crazy or something? Do your work-"

"I'm…I gotta go back to my room. I'm gonna be sick."