1 January 1633
Another new year. I can't believe how quickly time goes by these days! I feel as if it's faster every year. Maybe it's just my girls. They live life so much faster than I do, always looking for the next thing to do or the next thing to do.
Nepeta's best friend, this Equius she sees every time she goes into the village-I'm glad she's happy, but my goodness, he looks like his father.
6 January 1633
Now that I know Patrik is back in our village (heaven only knows why or how), I can't help but feel even more on guard when I go into the village to do my work. I don't know what he wants from me. He killed my husband! He only didn't kill me because I begged him! What on Earth could he possibly want from me?
I suppose he wants to be forgiven. But I'm not sure I can grant him that, not now.
13 January 1633
Today while I was in the market buying herbs and such, I saw Patrik again. He came up to me while I was picking out what I wanted and the apothecary was busy with someone else and said, "Di-Disciple. I know what I did was wrong. I should not have…I should not have killed him. I'm so sorry."
"I know you are," I said. "But you did. And he's gone."
"I let you go," he tried.
"Patrik…I know you want me to forgive you. But right now I just need time."
"It has been ten years."
"And it hasn't gotten any easier, alright? You can't tell me how quickly I'm supposed to stop grieving!"
"I-but…" He looked down, ashamed, and stepped back.
"Patrik. I just can't see you right now. I need time," I said.
He sighed, and nodded, and said, "I understand. I'm sorry to have bothered you. If…" He swallowed. "If you ever wish to speak with me, you need only write."
"I know," I said. "Thank you."
The apothecary came back over and said, "Is he bothering you, Miss Smith?" He's young, and so just calls me Miss Smith. Most of the women I treat call me Mary. I'd rather be called Dianna, but I can't.
"No, thank you. Just the willow and some of the St. John's Wort, please."
"Alright, Miss Smith."
I paid him and went home, and then I curled up on my bed and cried for a while. Patrik killed my love. He let me go, but he killed my love. I'm so furious with him sometimes I can hardly breathe. I just can't forgive him yet.
I need some time.
19 January 1633
It's very strange being called a different name. I'm not sure I like it. I've been Dianna my whole life. My last name has changed three-four times, now, but I've always been Dianna. I'm only Mary to the village (I'm Dianna, really), but being called Mary is just strange. I don't like it one bit.
It's something I can stand, for the sake of helping the people who need me. But, like leaving my home, that doesn't mean I have to like it.
25 January 1633
Damn it all. I should've known this would come back to haunt me. My girls know my name is Dianna, but it wasn't until today that a woman from the village-Jean-called me Mary. And Meulin asked me about it.
"Mama, I thought your name was Dianna?"
"It is, little love."
"So why do they call you Mary?"
"Because…sometimes people use different names for different reasons. I changed my last name when I got married, and now I just use a different name with the village."
"What was your last name before you were married, Mama?"
"That doesn't matter, little love."
"Do I have to change my last name when I get married?"
"Well…you don't have to get married. And then…well, I suppose not, if you don't want to. I didn't much like my last name before I was married, so I changed it."
"How can you not like your last name?"
That was something I did not want to explain to her. I used to have her last name and I had no idea how to explain that to her without it wrecking her already-fragile relationship with her family name (she's mentioned before she doesn't like it).
"It was my blood mother and father's last name, and I did not get along with them very well. Little love…I can't talk about this more, right now. How was your day in the village?"
And she told me about her day.
31 January 1633
I miss my family. I miss them so much. I know it's been ten years. I know they've been dead and gone so long I'm not sure anyone remembers us or anything we did anymore but I miss them so much.
I used to be so afraid to lose them. Now I know I was right.
4 February 1633
It's still freezing cold, but I don't need to wear my love's cloak over my own so often anymore.
Sometimes I'm self-aware enough to realize that it's probably awful for me to wear my love's cloak still, after all these years, but I…I love him so much. To get rid of these things that used to be theirs, to throw away Dolora's clothes or Simonn's nigh-unreadable copy of principia or Sigmun's grey cloak, would be to let them go.
And I can't let them go.
10 February 1633
Nepeta's friend Equius was over today, as he often is. He is just the mirror image of his father. They're not identical, not like Patrik and Meulin's friend Horuss (who is, thankfully, rarely over), but he reminds me so much of when Patrik and I were friends when we were children. He was my first friend, even before Sigmun and Simonn, and when I was just five years old I remember he could pick me up like I weighed nothing.
He talks like his father does, sort of stiff and awkward sometimes. I don't know what to think about that. But the little one speaks German, too, so maybe Patrik taught them German first. It would make sense.
17 February 1633
I can never forgive Candas or Grantt or Orvill. They were cruel and Candas betrayed the trust I loved so much about my love and Grantt sent me those letters right after my love died and Orvill taunted me when my love was dying.
And Patrik…he did what he was told without question, which is a terrible thing, but he let me go. He stopped. Maybe he's learned to question. Maybe…I can't forgive him yet. But I think there's time. I have time.
23 February 1633
I can't stand to see Patrik's face. I can hardly manage to see his sons in my home. I know, for sure, I don't hate him, but I am so very angry. He did what he was told. He did what he was supposed to. I used to think that way, but my family-they taught me better. Even before we left home, I was breaking rules. I had my job and my love took care of our baby and I knew I could live my whole life without getting married.
He did what he was supposed to, and he killed my love. He didn't do what he was supposed to, and he didn't kill me.
I can't help the anger. I think I just need time for the fire to burn out.
28 February 1633
I could do it, theoretically. I could write to him and tell him he's forgiven, he's free. I could tell him I'm not angry anymore.
But then I'd be lying to him, and he was my friend when I was a child, and I can't do that. The worst thing in my life happened because I lied, and I won't let that happen again. I shouldn't have lied to my love. I won't lie to Patrik now.
5 March 1633
Beth is having her baby in a few days. I really hope everyone is alright because every time someone dies or even comes remotely close, I can feel my throat tighten with terror and I just know that this time is the last time I'll ever help someone have their baby and someone's going to kill me and my daughters will be all alone.
I hope this one isn't the one.
13 March 1633
Little James was born today. But Beth isn't doing very well, and she's not eating. She needs to eat, not just for her little one but for herself. I'm worried about her.
17 March 1633
Beth died today.
I tried so hard. I gave her food and I did my best to stop the bleeding and I mixed up every medicine I know and she still died. I try so hard, every time, but sometimes people die and I just want to help. I just want things to be better.
Dolora did so much better than me. She saved so many people, and I'm just letting people die.
24 March 1633
I tried praying today. Sometimes it makes me feel better, and today…I don't know. I know that my mother was wrong, but everything else…I couldn't have children, and I lied to my love, and these things were terrible. I was wrong. I did something wrong.
My love told me that not having children wasn't my fault. He thought the church was wrong, and that it wasn't my fault about our children. He loved me even though I lost three of our babies. He loved me even though our Luke died.
I'm not sure. Maybe it wasn't my fault. I know I did the right thing by leaving home. I'm not sure what else I could've done to deserve not having children.
Except lying to my love. Maybe that's why. I lied to him, so we could never have children together, as much as we wanted to.
This is my fault.
30 March 1633
I've been remembering to drink my tea this past week. It's amazing how much better it makes me feel, especially considering how hopeless I feel some mornings.
I feel a bit more ready to talk to Patrik. I want to talk to him, because I don't have anyone else to talk to and because once we were friends, but he killed my love. He killed my family.
I need time.