3 September 1619

Happy birthday, Luke. He'd be two. Two years old. Probably walking, and starting to string together sentences, and starting to scare me by wandering around the house without knowing the difference between a toy and a lit candle. He'd be smiling up at me with those healthy pink gums and those sparkling hazel eyes and that little blond curl that would never lie flat. Sigmun or I would be sewing him more clothes that he'd fit and carrying him around the market on my hip and playing with him whenever I could and maybe teaching him a few words in other languages, just for fun.

My whole heart aches and I almost didn't go to work again today. Sigmun and I put flowers on his grave and I don't think it'll ever get easier, seeing that grave and knowing his little body is under it. Even now, tears blur my letters and I can't seem to feel my fingers. I didn't eat lunch and I won't eat dinner. My feet feel like lead and my mind feels numb. Sometimes, when the grief strikes me the most, I have dreams. I dream about my little Luke as a toddler, a child, almost an adult, all grown up like he never was. I dream about holidays and meals and teaching him instead of school and friends he'll never have and a marriage I'll never attend with a faceless girl in a blue dress and my child in a nice suit, all dressed up, and sometimes I dream about just a dinner like any day and Sigmun and Simonn and Dolora and my little one and I are all sitting around a table with just stew and bread and water but he's six or seven or eight, with pink cheeks and hair darkening to dirty blond and dirt in his clothes and grass stains on the knees of his pants and I just can't bear it. I can't.

I didn't even need to say anything to Sigmun. I saw how heavy his eyes were and how little he ate, how little we all ate. I saw two flowers on Luke's grave already when Sigmun and I went there, red and blue, and I'm sure they were Simonn's and I wonder if he left them there for Sigmun and I to see.

The tears are burning my whole body, but I don't want to make a sound. My arms feel chilled just from the memory. I think I may cry myself to sleep tonight, but maybe this time I'll be able to feel my husband's arms around me, comforting me in a way I'll never understand.

6 September 1619

Mariek was over for tea today and I was feeling tired and stressed, so she and I just sat there with our tea and were quiet. It was kind of nice knowing she was there even though we weren't talking. I like to talk and I like to be social, but my goodness, everyone needs a break sometimes.

10 September 1619

I had such a nightmare last night, and I don't remember much of it, but it was so awful I woke up screaming, and I haven't done that in…well, months at the very least. I scared my family of course, but I was able to calm them down. I just told Dolora I had a nightmare and I told Simonn that yes I had a nightmare and he really had no place to bother me about it. (To which he rolled his eyes and told me he'd bother me anyways because he knows a thing or two about nightmares, thank you very much.)

I have no idea what on Earth the dream was about, either. I was just so scared.

12 September 1619

Catherine said she found a suitor today, which I might not be noting except she said it was Edward, the oldest Fletcher son. I don't know him very well but he's a lovely dancer when I see him in the village and I can understand why Catherine would like him. He's got a job and everything, and I talked to Mariek and Neolla and they told me he doesn't have any sort of bad rumors, not like David or Francis or Hugh. (I've never known a girl, except perhaps myself, to choose a husband without first asking her friends, and then her friends asking their friends, so I suppose this was all pretty ordinary.)

The only thing holding her back is that he's not terribly rich, and since if she's married she wouldn't work anymore she wants a husband who can provide for her and her children. I certainly understand that, especially because she's not got family the way I do, or most of the village does. Maybe he'll pull through and find a better job. I hope so!

15 September 1619

I went to Luke's grave today and I know it's wrong but there's a part of me that envies all the women in the world who have children, lively children with big hearts and bright eyes and big futures. I wish I could go to the village tomorrow and hold my little one on my hip while he laughed and I shopped, and the people in the village would stop and we'd chat about children and jobs and life and all that. I just wish he was still alive.

I cried but the forget-me-nots there are beautiful and they made me feel better, because someone is remembering him, even if it's just the flowers.

17 September 1619

The leaves are all falling and they're so lovely. I remember the leaves were falling when he was born and I missed the leaves that year because I spent all my time inside taking care of him. I guess it's better than wanting to cry whenever I see leaves falling.

20 September 1619

Sigmun and I went for a walk today to the clearing with the forget-me-nots and I lied down with my head in his lap and let him play with my hair. It felt nice, and by the time we walked back my hair was braided very nicely (or, as nicely as you can braid thick, unruly hair). It was just a comfort to lie there with my love and feel like I belonged somewhere.

22 September 1619

Simonn had one of his nightmares last night, and I only know because I found him washing dishes the way he does when he doesn't want us to know he's been drinking tea at midnight. (Ironically washing dishes gives him away.) I wish he'd just talk about it. I know it's not good for you to keep everything inside-he's the one who told me that.

We picked late-season berries today and helped Dolora get ready for the winter, moving herbs into pots and preserving medicines to make remedies in winter. Of course we all work on food storage this time of year even though I hunt in the winter, because you can't live just on meat! But since Dolora's medicine makes money we all help her get ready for the winter.

I've been drying mint leaves for a couple days now so we can store them. Mint's not as helpful as willow or some of the other herbs, but mint tea is good for the nerves, and plenty of us around here need something for our nerves. It's good we always keep chamomile tea around, or I wouldn't sleep at all. I haven't slept the night through in…more than a year.

Either way, I have to go transplant some St. John's wort, so I'll write more later.

25 September 1619

Catherine asked me today how I did my marriage without my father, considering her father is long passed away. I told her my husband asked me with a bouquet of flowers and I walked myself down the aisle and it was odd, but it was also nice and a really lovely wedding. I wonder if she's worried about being alone on her wedding day, which I wasn't, so I also told her I'd be at her wedding if she wanted me to, provided it's someone in this village.

I wish it was easier than this. I wish we could just get married without the whole family getting involved. I know it's important, and a good marriage can help a struggling family with money and status and all that, but I wish we could all just love people without all this stress.

27 September 1619

I wonder sometimes what my baby's first words would've been. Would he have said something like spoon or bowl, or would it have started with Papa or Mama? Or something like book, or toy? I wish I knew. I wish I knew about his first and second and third words, his first sentence and the first time he asked for something he wanted. I wish I could've watching him learn to run and to read and to write, how to cook and sew and swim, how to make friends and how to keep them.

I wish so badly my baby could've grown up. I wish he was still here and I could hug him and tell him how much I love him. I wonder if he'd still have that little curl on his forehead that never quite laid flat. I wonder when his hair would've started turning brown (the way mine did). I wonder so many things and I'll never know the answers.

30 September 1619

Today Hannah came over around noon and she was panicking and my first thought was that she was ill and I was worried.

"Hannah? Are you alright?"

"No."

"Come in, come in. Tea?"

Hannah nodded and fiddled with the ends of her hair. She sat on one of the kitchen chairs while I boiled water and spooned in tealeaves.

"What is it?"

"I haven't gotten my bleeding since July."

"I can give you some stew to take home, if you like." Usually missing your bleeding just means you haven't been eating enough.

"No, you don't understand. I've been sick and tired and…" She took a heaving sort of breath, like she was trying not to cry. "And I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh my goodness…" I couldn't think of anything else to say. "I…I'll go get Simonn."

"No!" she shrieked, grabbing my wrist. "No, no, please don't. I just came…I just came to say goodbye. You know how…these things don't always work out…" I saw her eyes flicker to the kitchen knives.

"Goodbye?" Then I realized. "No, Hannah, you can't…"

"Don't you see? This is my punishment. I sinned, and this is my punishment."

"No it's not! We'll all help you with this! You don't have to…you can't…I'm getting Dolora."

"Don't! She'll be angry…"

"No she won't! Hannah, you need help!"

"But…"

"Stay right here. I'm going to get Dolora."

Hannah just shook her head and tried to plead with her eyes, but I wasn't about to let her go through with it. There was no way in hell.

"Dolora!"

"What is it, Dianna dear?"

"It's important."

"I'm boiling bandages right now, dear. I think it can wait."

"No, I don't think it can."

"Well, what is it?"

"I think Hannah should tell you herself."

"Tell me what?"

I went back to the front room and guided Hannah to the kitchen. "Tell her," I said. "It won't do any harm."

Hannah took another one of those heaving breaths and said, "I'm pregnant."

"Sigmun!" Dolora shouted. He came from the living room.

"What is it?"

"Keep an eye on the bandages until they're done. I have some work to do."

"Alright…" Sigmun said, seeming doubtful. "I presume this is something I can't help with?"

"I just need someone to keep an eye on the fire," Dolora said. She walked to the library and Hannah and I followed. Dolora sat in her chair and I sat next to Hannah on the couch because she seemed like she was about to collapse and I thought that I better be next to her in case she did fall apart.

"Alright. Who was it?" Dolora asked.

"I…uh…Simonn," Hannah whispered.

"I'll be right back," Dolora said.

"No, please don't!" Hannah shouted.

"Hannah dear, he is just as responsible as you are. Drink some of your tea and do your best to stay calm. Getting worked up will only make it worse, especially if you're sick to your stomach."

Hannah nodded as Dolora stood up to find Simonn. As usual, he was sitting in his room with a book. Or I presume he was, because I heard Dolora speaking very sternly and then Simonn objecting before following. I stood up to give him my spot on the couch and then left to go join Sigmun in boiling bandages because I could tell I wasn't needed. But I listened in. I didn't mean to, but there's not a lot I could do about hearing what was going on.

"What's going on?" Sigmun asked.

"I didn't tell you, but Hannah's pregnant. Simonn, obviously."

"Obviously," Sigmun repeated, making it clear that it wasn't obvious to him.

"Oh, that's right. While we were in the city with Dolora, I came back a day early and Hannah was here…you can guess."

"Oh," Sigmun said, poking one of the bandages. "I-"

"Sh. I want to know what they're saying."

"Nosy."

"Shut up."

I leaned a little closer and I heard Dolora saying, "I'm not upset. Just do try to be careful next time."

I could swear I heard Simonn shrugging. I heard Hannah crying.

"This isn't impossible, Hannah dear."

"I was just going to…you know…"

"Hannah, dear, it's not the end of the world. You don't have to put yourself at risk."

"I could…Eleanor is married." I don't know how I never heard about that.

"It's your choice. But you have choices. Remember that, dear. And you know if you choose to make yourself miscarry, I will lie for you."

"I can't," Hannah said. "I'm not…healthy enough."

"Generally I agree with you," Dolora said carefully. "The herbs I use can be dangerous if you have a lower bodyweight."

"I'm sorry…" Hannah said, and I think she was crying onto Simonn's shoulder.

"It's not your fault," Simonn said. "It's not."

"I messed up! This is my fault and I'm paying for it!"

"Calm down, dear. You'll make yourself sick," Dolora said. I could picture Simonn sitting next to her with that stunned look on his face, the kind he makes when he can't even manage to find words. I could picture that concerned look on Dolora's face she wears when someone's too sad to think.

"It is! I'm paying for it with my life!"

"What do I do?" Sigmun whispered. "The bandages are done."

"Just finish them like we always do. Now sh, I want to know if Hannah's alright."

"You're nosy."

"Shut up!"

"Eleanor will take it, I'm sure of it," Hannah said. "She'll help."

"We could get married, you know," Simonn said.

"Do you want to be accused of witchcraft, or should I?" Hannah asked. I've never heard her be sarcastic before, or not often anyway. It was obvious Dolora had left, I don't know why. I can tell things like that. Sometimes I wonder if it's because of all the time I spent analyzing my mother when I was younger.

What really worries me is that I know Hannah really wouldn't survive making herself miscarry. She's too small and too underweight to lose a baby on purpose like Mariek did. And it would be doubly dangerous this far along-it's been almost two months, and most people recognize it by one month if they want to miscarry like Dolora lets people do. And Hannah's always been underweight.

"Sigmun, are the bandages done?" Dolora asked from behind Sigmun, to no one's surprise.

"Yes," he said. "I put them out to dry."

"Excellent. I have to go into the village. Where's the blue jar?"

"The usual place."

"Alright. Dianna dear, would you like to come?"

"I think I ought to make dinner."

Dolora nodded and left, which left me to be very glad I wasn't accused of witchcraft when I was married. And also to be glad that I would never end up in Hannah and Simonn's situation. The worst part is that Hannah wanted children more than any of us. Mariek never wanted children, and Neolla didn't either. I want or wanted children, but not as much as Hannah does. And I know Dolora wanted children, even though she couldn't really have them, and Candas doesn't want children even though she has to. How ironic, that those who want children can't have them or must give them up or lose them (damn winter fever) and those who don't want children must have them.

At any rate, Hannah told us she's going to give the child to Eleanor and visit all the time and if she can get a job or find a way to marry Simonn or something, she can maybe adopt her own child (I suppose). That's what she said when she left, anyways. I hope things work out for her. Of all people, she deserves it.