2 April 1620

All my other usual symptoms are coming back. I suppose sooner rather than later I'll have a new little one, a new baby to raise-hopefully for the better. I wonder what we'll name them. Not Luke again, obviously. But I don't know what a good name is. I'm just worried I'll name them the wrong thing and mess everything up again. I'm more worried I'll do something wrong and I'll miscarry or they'll die young like my little Luke or I'll raise them wrong, or…I don't know. I'm just worried. I guess I know it's irrational, but reason can't cure anxiety. If it could, no one would be anxious ever again.

4 April 1620

It was not a good day at work. I still don't get along with Johanna, and today she was just getting on my nerves-and I'm sure I was getting on hers. Nothing explosive happened, but I was just irritated all day, and when I got home I was in a horrible mood. Sigmun did the same thing he always does-he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me while we read together, and it made me feel better like he always does. And Dolora made one of her richer stews. I didn't even have to tell her I was pregnant, like last time. Simonn probably knows, too, but I might just tell him later on. Just to be sure.

7 April 1620

Damn the nausea. I had to stay home today because I didn't want to risk vomiting at work. Patrik came by around five in the afternoon to ask if I was alright.

"Um…Mrs. Vantas?"

"My goodness, that's formal. You can call me Dianna."

"Oh. Well, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine now."

"You were ill?"

"Pregnant, to be precise. And I still am."

"Oh." He shifted awkwardly, unsure what to say. "Congratulations?"

"Thank you. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, my father is in town tonight for supper."

"It's fine! But feel free to stay sometime, any time. Okay?"

He nodded. "I hope you feel better."

"Thank you. See you tomorrow!"

"Goodbye," Patrik said.

I hope he stays over sometime. Of all the men I've been friends with, he's one of three who had no ulterior motives (Sigmun was my friend when he loved me, before I reciprocated, because we love each other as friends, too). It's depressing how many of the friends I've made who've been men have simply hoped someday I'd fall for them (which is why they never end up in my journal much). At least I know my friends who are women, even the ones who love women, are my friends for the sake of friendship.

11 April 1620

Catherine guessed what was wrong with me today.

"Dianna, you're pregnant again, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Good luck!"

"Thanks. I hope it all goes well. I mean, Dolora-Miss Maryam-is always telling me new things about how to be pregnant, and all that."

"If you can't trust the midwife, then who can you trust?" Catherine said, laughing. "My goodness. Well, whatever happens, I hope I see you at work!"

"Of course. My husband prefers to stay home with the baby."

"I wish I could find a man like that sometimes."

"I thought you didn't want to work."

"Yes, but I would like to keep up a social life, and get some sleep."

"Those first few months I got almost no sleep. It's a good thing I've got all my family around or I might've just passed out in the end! I loved my baby but he really had quite the voice."

Catherine laughed again and said, "Well, best of luck. I need to get home, see you tomorrow!"

"See you!"

Patrik walked me home and even though I'm sick all the time, at least I have hope.

16 April 1620

Damara seems to be a healthy little one, for a baby only a month old, and she's such a sweetheart. She loves all of us who've been taking care of her and, most important of all, she doesn't mind being alone with Eleanor any more than Hannah. Eleanor's husband is still a little confused, but he doesn't seem to mind that much. He and Eleanor will probably have children of their own in a few years, if Hannah's predictions are true. I've never really met the man but he seems alright. Eleanor's quiet and reserved, but she's kind and understanding, too. I think she'll be a good mother.

17 April 1620

Simonn had that nightmare again last night. He has it often enough that I worry it must be something real, something big. And I worry both because it makes Simonn sick, and because I worry someday there might be something very bad happening to us. And maybe it's soon.

20 April 1620

As of right now I'm lying in bed with a fever. I don't want to be afraid but my goodness, I am. Dolora's been giving me medicine but I'm terrified. I felt so sick this morning, and I assumed it was the pregnancy, but then I realized I was far too cold and now…now I'm lying in bed and Dolora's insisting on fussing over me and Sigmun was just minutes ago holding my hand like he never would again.

I shouldn't be scared, but I am. I know Dolora can treat just about anything but I worry.

22 April 1620

Patrik stopped by today and I heard him downstairs but I was too dizzy to stand up so Sigmun answered the door.

"Is Mrs. Va-Dianna home?"

"Yes. She has a fever. You are?"

"Patrik Zahhak. Her friend."

"Oh, yes! I've heard about you. Would you like to come in?"

"No, thank you though. Er…will she be okay?"

"Yes. My mother's treating her. Thank you for stopping by, I'll tell her you were here."

"May I ask your name?"

"Sigmun Vantas."

"Her husband?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Uh…thank you. Have a nice day."

"And you!"

Sigmun came upstairs, and I felt him take my hand.

"Love, you awake?"

"Mm-hmm." My throat was dry as sand.

"Patrik stopped by, wanted to know how you are. I told him you're going to be fine. You are going to be fine, love. I know you are."

"I will be," I said. I didn't feel it, but I wasn't going to say that.

I just hope Dolora knows what she's doing.

28 April 1620

I was…alright today. After six days of being too sick to write, I'm a bit better now. I haven't had any bleeding, so it seems I'm still pregnant too, which is deeply unexpected. Catherine stopped by to talk to me about work, and apparently Agnes is unhappy with me. But I can't do a lot about being sick, and I would rather not have a fever.

I hope I'm better by tomorrow.

1 May 1620

Back to work today. Agnes just sort of nodded at me, but considering she once missed a whole month when she caught some sort of pox (I don't remember what kind) she had nothing to say to me. Or, at least, nothing that wouldn't be hypocritical.

4 May 1620

I was walking home with Patrik today when he said the strangest thing.

"Can I see the inside of your wrist?"

"Sure," I said, and I held out my arm.

"You can't see your veins?"

"No. I work inside but I hunt."

He looked a little sad. "It's odd. There's an English expression for nobility-blueblood. Because the blood in our wrists in blue."

"Yes, because they're-you're-the only ones who can afford to stay inside. What's odd about that?"

"When I get a cut, the blood is still red. Inside, all the blood in my veins is as red as yours. So why do they call us bluebloods?"

"I suppose it's all to do with the outward appearance. They say blood defines a person, so why wouldn't the nobility be set apart by the very color of their blood?"

He shrugged. "I suppose. I can't seem to find it in my heart to believe my blood is any different from yours."

"It's not. It just looks it."

He nodded. "I suppose no one would ever know if a peasant become king, or a prince a commoner. There is nothing outside to suggest one's status besides the veins in our wrists."

"That's true."

He looked troubled. "What's wrong, Patrik?"

"All my life, I have never doubted my blood. I have defined myself by my blood. Now I find myself doubting my blood, and by extension myself." I like that Patrik doesn't really have any trouble expressing himself, or any real reservations. He's very straightforward.

"Whoever you've been your whole life, that's who you are. Just because your blood may not mean much, you're still the same person." I sighed and looked left. "When my mother left, I didn't know who I was for a little while. But I'm the same person now I was then, in a sense anyways."

He nodded. "I suppose. It's remarkable to think that blood could mean so much or so little as one perceives it." He still has that stiff way of speaking sometimes.

"It is," I said, and we lapsed into quiet thought for the rest of the walk home.

5 May 1620

I haven't been thinking so much about my pregnancy this time, but the nausea is still incredible and the aches all but unbearable. It's nice at night when I sit with my family in the library, mending and reading and doing all our other chores, and when I cuddle up with Sigmun while I sleep. It eases some of the unpleasantness, or distracts from it anyways.

8 May 1620

It's astounding to me that I'm still finding books on the top shelves in Dolora's library I haven't read yet. But I did find one again today, one on medicine from that place Dolora gets her medical books from, where it never snows and there's sand instead of dirt and hardly any trees. (I don't remember the names of the countries, and I've never seen them written down.) It wasn't fascinating, but it was worth reading.

I ought to finish the Bible. It's probably something worth knowing.

11 May 1620

I pushed my way through Leviticus today. It was so impossibly dull, and so deeply nonsensical. It doesn't strike me as particularly godly, either, not like Psalms. It just all seems like gibberish after a while. Anyways, it was written by humans, and I doubt we've got all the eloquence I assume God would have.

Genesis is alright, though. It's somewhat exciting, and it's the mythology of my country the way Zeus and Hera are Greece's and Jupiter and Juno are Rome's. Things happen in Exodus, too. All that happens in Leviticus is that two people die and people are given an awful lot of rules that make not a lot of sense.

I hope the rest is a bit more interesting.

13 May 1620

There was the most awful thunderstorm today. Sigmun came home in utter terror, and he practically curled up on my lap. I heard him open and close the door and the next thing I knew he was sitting on my lap, pressing his head to my shoulder.

"Love?" I asked.

"S-Sorry," he stammered, his teeth chattering badly. "I-I just h-h-hate thunderstorms."

"It's alright, love. It's alright. You're safe here, we're all safe." I wrapped my arms around him and then I lied down and he rested his head on my chest, and I just held him until the storm passed.

15 May 1620

I remember being young, when I first started going from a child to an adult, and I hated my body so much. I remember I thought my growing chest was so conspicuous, and it felt so large back then. I don't suppose I'm any bigger than most women, but then everything felt so visible. I always felt my eyes were too big for my face, my hair too thick and tangled, my chest too large and too visible. Now I don't think I'm much of anything special. Sigmun says he thinks I'm lovely but he's my husband. I'm glad I don't stick out the way I imagined I did back then. I hated my body so much back then, but it's the only one I have and I'm grateful for it.

18 May 1620

Sigmun's making plans. I've no idea what for, but he's making plans for something. I see him writing things down, studying and looking at maps and reading books about history. I know he's planning something but he won't talk about it and I don't want to press too much, for the sake of kindness and respecting his privacy.

22 May 1620

What with the farming season starting, I haven't really seen Simonn much. But I know he's been coming home because every night I leave out a cup of tea near the fire for him, and every morning the cup has been washed and put back with the rest of the mugs. I'm glad to know that. I leave out the tea so Simonn can have a cup before bed and so I know he's come home, even if I don't see him.

Sigmun left a map out on our desk and I saw all the biggest towns in the country marked with different shapes. I haven't a clue what he's planning but I know it's something big.

25 May 1620

I was talking with Catherine today and she mentioned about Edward again.

"He got himself together and asked for my hand again."

"What did you say?"

"No."

"How come?"

"He didn't bother until he knew I would actually leave him. I don't think he's really going to make an effort to be a good husband unless there's some sort of risk involved. A real donkey, with a carrot and a stick and all."

"Mm," I said, nodding. "Well, I'm sure there are men out there who would care enough to get themselves together without a figurative stick."

"There must be," Catherine said. "My goodness, I don't want to end up an old maid!"

"Why not?" I never considered the possibility but by the time I was old enough to get married I had Sigmun.

"I'd like children," she said. "And I'd rather not work my whole life."

I nodded. "There's good men out there. You'll find one."

"I'd like to think so."

"Oh, let's talk about something happier. Aren't you visiting the city soon?"

She lit up like the sunrise. "Yes! Agnes wants me to go get the nice fabrics from the trading ships. I'm so excited! I've never been to the city."

"It was amazing," I say, remembering the gardens and the library and the market. "Where are you staying?"

"A boarding house. It's run by a woman, don't worry."

"Good," I say. "You have to see some of the gardens in the city! Not to mention the library."

"We can't all read," she said.

"Not for the books. It's just the loveliest building I've ever been inside."

"Even the palace?"

"The palace is so dull! Just gray stone everywhere-or, at least, the visitor's quarters."

So we talked about the city until it was time to head home.

27 May 1620

Sigmun had another one of his dreams last night. He woke me up in the middle of the night and said, "Dianna, love?"

"What is it? I'm pregnant, I need my sleep."

He almost laughed at that. "I had a dream."

"Those do tend to happen at night."

"No, I mean a future dream. It was so wonderful! You and I were at a huge school, twice the size of the city! It was…sort of like a university, but I'm not sure. You were teaching classes and working on a degree in Russian, I think, and you and I lived in this lovely little apartment-in the dream I knew that was what it was called-that was just two rooms, a bedroom and a living room that was also a kitchen and a company room. It was cozy and pretty and you and I lived in the same building-apartments are sets of rooms, like houses, arranged into buildings on hallways-as Simonn and Hannah, and they were married, and Mom was married to Rose and she was a doctor-it was so wonderful!"

"Sure sounds it."

"I just wish we lived then. We could be happy."

I felt a little hurt. "Are you not happy now?"

"No, I am, but we were all happier then. Safer. I was…we were the same age we are now, and I was thinking about when we would get married and have children. I wasn't thinking about if they survived. I knew they'd survive and I was just thinking about if you wanted children too. And Mama could get married, and you could go to university, and Mama was a proper doctor with a degree and everything. It was…better. You were happier too. I remember you talked to someone who took care of your mind because of…what your mother did. You even had medicine for it."

"For what?"

"For the sadness."

I suspect he knows more about that awful sadness from death, the lingering emptiness and the numbness on bad nights, than he lets on. I hate to write about it but I don't think it'll ever go away.

"I don't know why but I think it was harder for you in the dream, so the doctor gave you a medicine. It really helped! I remember you saying it helped you. Oh, and Simonn's siblings were still dead, but he'd seen a doctor for that and he was okay in the now of the dream. And I…no one even cared that I didn't have a father, or they didn't seem to! It was…it was astounding. I mean, since Mama-I called her Mom in the dream-wasn't married people were still sometimes mean. But I still had a job and everything, and no one really treated me like they do here." He looked so wistful and gentle I thought my heart might melt.

"It sounds wonderful."

"It was." He leaned his head on my shoulder and added, "I'm sorry to wake you. I thought you'd like to hear it."

"Don't worry about it, love. I did like to hear it."

"Let's go on to sleep, then."

I nodded and rested my head on his chest to hear his heartbeat, slow and steady and constant. I can't imagine there's any place or any time I might feel safer than in my home, with my friends, knowing that no matter what might happen they will be there.

30 May 1620

Sigmun asked me if I'd miss home if we left today. I know it's to do with his preparations so I said I would but if it was for some place more interesting I'd be game to try it. I don't think I could ever not miss home. It's my place in the world, and the only place I've ever really felt safe. But if his plans are anything like what I imagine-and I know him well-we won't be leaving for anywhere safe, or fun. Somewhere interesting, for sure.

I want to change the world, but I'm afraid to leave home.