2 October 1636
Another season of the holidays. All Souls' and All Saints', of course, and then Christmas. My girls will want to go the festivals and I will watch from the side, dancing perhaps once or twice. No matter how the year goes, at its end we celebrate.
I suppose there is something to celebrate, now. My daughters are growing up to be smart, capable, kind young women, and if I can keep doing what I'm doing, then maybe they'll live their lives like that and keep being the shining stars they are.
I want them to be happy. If they grow up happy, I'll be happy.
7 October 1636
Meulin came home today walking on a cloud, practically dancing.
"What's going on, little love?"
"Hm?"
"You're almost dancing! What happened?"
She blushed very red and said, "Well, um, you remember Kurloz, from the castle? The duke's son?"
"I do." I didn't trust myself to say anything else.
"He said he's going to be in the village on All Souls'! And…well, he's very handsome, and I…I'm going to ask him dance!"
I couldn't help but smile. She was so happy. "Do you think he'll say yes?"
"I think so! He's very kind to me. He wasn't at first-he was sort of quiet and he didn't want to talk to anyone. But now he's talked to me some and he's acting…a little, you know…a tiny bit like he might like me?" She smiled down at her shoes, still very red.
"I'm sure he does," I said.
"How did you know your husband liked you?"
"Well, he used to bring me flowers, and finally, one day, he told me he loved me and he…he kissed me. It was very sweet. He was very sweet." It's been so long since I remembered my love and was happy. It was a lovely feeling.
"But you knew him! You saw him every day. What if you didn't know him?"
"Well, I don't know, really. But I knew. Even when I told myself that he couldn't like me, because I wasn't pretty or gentle enough, I knew he did. Boys are not half so clever as they think they are."
"What do you mean, not pretty or gentle?"
"I had some unfair expectations of myself when I was younger."
"Do you think I'm good enough? For him to like me?"
"I think you're the most wonderful elder daughter in the world, and any man who doesn't like you isn't smart enough to deserve you."
"You're just saying that because you're my mother."
"No, I mean it. You never need to make yourself into anything for any man."
She looked at me a little funny and said, "Mama, it's okay. I'm not going to. But I really like him and I want him to like me."
"I'm sure he will. Maybe you can bring him home to meet me."
She went even redder and said, "Maybe someday."
"Well, I can help you if you want to spruce up one of your dresses."
"Um, yes, I'd like that," she said, still very red.
She got out her festival dress and we worked on embroidery together until Nepeta came home and it was time for dinner.
She's going to look lovely at the festival. They both will! They both look like me, Meulin more so than Nepeta, but somehow they are both much more beautiful than I ever was. Perhaps it's just that I don't hate them as I used to hate myself.
I hope they enjoy the festival.
11 October 1636
This was Neolla's birthday. I've heard rumors from her family, but nothing concrete. They say she went after Mariek, and I can only assume she felt betrayed. Mariek was a pirate for a long time, doing very illegal things, and Neolla went after her. Except when she was finally captured, Candas granted Mariek's ship a letter of marque. She lied and said she'd had it all along and Neolla was hanged for interfering with Her Majesty's work.
Mariek has changed. She used to be my friend. She gave me advice and we told jokes together and we were never the closest, but we were friends. I don't know what's happened to her, or why, but she is not the same person she was.
I suppose, though, that I am not, either. After everything that happened to us, we all changed.
It's amazing to me that people say things about how "people never change". Everyone I know has changed a dozen times over. I don't know anyone who's ever stayed the same.
15 October 1636
I dreamed last night about Dolora. We were sitting at the table across from each other with cups of tea-my tea for the sadness, hers the black tea she always liked.
"How are you, Dianna dear?"
"I'm managing. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm quite alright," she said. "But tell me, dear, I can tell you're worried. What's wrong?"
"I…well, I worry about my daughters. I want to be enough for them-to be a good mother to them, like you were to me. And then…I'm not sure. I want to be a good midwife, like you were. I'm not sure I know enough. I think perhaps I'm mad, sometimes, with this melancholy."
"Oh, my dear," she said, reaching out like she was going to touch me. "You're perfectly good enough. Have you…have you always looked up to me?"
I nodded.
"You are not me. You're you. You do not have to be just like me to be enough."
"I know. But you did so much for me."
"And I let you down, too."
"No you didn't. What do you mean?"
"There are many things I could've done and should've done. I should have taken you in much earlier and I should have helped you more with your melancholy."
"Dolora-you-you weren't perfect, of course, but you were good enough. I promise. I owe you my life."
"You are alive, aren't you?"
"Of course," I said. "We're sitting here talking."
"I'm not alive, though," she said, and I woke up drenched in sweat.
It's comforting to dream about my old family. I love them, and I always will. They held me when I needed them, and I held them when they needed me, and we were safe together.
Maybe someday I'll see them again. I hope I will. It's all I have to keep me going.
18 October 1636
Meulin came with me again today to help with a birth in town. She did excellently well, and while it was a long birth, both mother and child survived. When we walked home it was late and dark, and I was glad to have my daughter to help me carry everything.
She was exhausted when we returned home.
"How do you do this, Mama?" she asked, yawning.
"Do what, little love?"
"Help someone give birth, every other week? I'm so tired."
"Well, I suppose I've gotten used to it. After some time, you get used to once in a while having to stay up very late. And when I'm not doing this, I get enough rest."
"I imagine I'll get better at it," she said with a weak smile.
"You will. But for now, go to bed. I'll clean this all up. I'm sure Button is waiting for you."
"Thank you, Mama."
I smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "You are going to be an excellent midwife."
She grinned huge and said, "I love you, Mama."
"I love you too."
She was fast asleep by the time I finished cleaning up and went to bed, and Button was waiting for me on my bed.
22 October 1636
I woke up today with a fever, again. I swear my body used to be more durable than this. I rested today, and mixed up the tea I give to people with fevers with honey for my throat. It is unendingly frustrating to be ill. I have work to do. I have people to take care of and I have to work in the garden and preserve food and hunt, and I have my daughters. I do not have time to fall ill.
Meulin asked if I needed help and I told her I'd be quite alright but I appreciated it. Nepeta worries whenever I'm ill, and so I try to treat myself so she knows I can. Nepeta worries a good deal, although she never says anything about it. I think it might take her years to feel safe again, after what happened to her and her sister. The least I can do is make her feel safe with me.
25 October 1636
With the festivals fast approaching, my daughters are both rushing to pick their nicest dresses and make sure they look lovely. They both like to wear green, perhaps because it brings out their eyes. Meulin is also going to wear the green one of hair ribbons I gave her to match. Nepeta said she's going to put late fall flowers in her hair, and I told her that she's going to look lovely. I told her that because she will! They both will.
I hope Patrik goes this year. It's nice to be with him and Mabell, to at least have someone to be my friend when I have no one else. Even if Mabell calls me Mary Smith, she is my friend.
29 October 1636
A woman came to me today while I was in the village to tell me her child was sick. My heart jumped in my chest and I said, "Let me collect my daughter. She's learning the trade."
"Is she well trained?"
"She's learning fast. I've only just started teaching her."
The woman-Grace-nodded, and let me go to get Meulin from where she spends time with her friends. At her home, her son was ill. He's about nine and he has winter fever and I felt my throat get tight and my hands start to tremble.
"Meulin," I said, my voice shaky. "I'd like you to tell me what you think we should do."
"Well, um…" she said. "Ask how he feels. Check for a fever. Um, I think he probably has a little cold, or perhaps winter fever, since he doesn't seem to be in too much distress."
"Exactly," I said. "How about you do that?"
I could tell he had winter fever from the way he coughed-full of phlegm and not too deep in his chest. His breathing was too fast and he was visibly shaking. But my daughter has yet to learn these things, and so she has to work this way.
Once she came to the same conclusion that I did, I asked her about how she would treat him.
"Well, um, steam, for his congestion. And some herbs in a tea to soothe his throat and some for congestion."
I nodded. "You're doing very well," I said. "Help me mix these things up."
She did most of the work, and afterwards she said, "Mama, are you alright?"
"Of course I am, little love. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You looked scared and you were shaking all over."
I pinched my lips together and tried to think of what to say. "Well, Meulin, I…you remember that I had a son, Luke."
"Yes."
"He passed away of winter fever on November seventh. Inevitably children catch the illness this time of year and every year it is more difficult to see it."
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"Thank you."
"I promise I won't get sick."
"You don't need to promise me anything, little love. You're my daughter. I will take care of you no matter what happens. And if you do fall ill, you will have the best midwife in the village to take care of you." I grinned and ruffled her hair.
"I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, Meulin."
And that was that.
31 October 1636
Today was All Souls' Day, and so I went into the village with my daughters to go to the festival. My girls had such fun! I saw them dancing and laughing with their friends, and I saw Meulin dancing with a tall, skeletally thin fellow with pale eyes and dark hair. I can only assume that was this Kurloz fellow from the palace. He does look like his father. I only hope he is better than his father.
Based on how my Meulin speaks about him, I assume he is.
As they danced, I stood on the side with Patrik and Mabell and watched. Patrik is not used to calling me Mary, so he didn't call me by name at all. I suspect he still thinks of me sometimes as the young girl I was when we were first friends. I suspect he thinks of himself sometimes as the young boy he was then.
We ate baked apples and talked over nonsense while the younger people and those whose bodies haven't yet completely broken down danced.
Patrik and Mabell danced a little. My body is much too tired to dance much these days.
1 November 1636
Meulin danced again with that boy today, and practically danced home, telling me he almost definitely liked her and she was so excited. Nepeta danced with all of her friends, and it seems to me that she is happy with them. Or she says she is, at any rate, and I can tell she's telling the truth.
Today was a little bit better in the festival. I danced one dance with Patrik, and I talked with Patrik and Mabell until it was dark and time to go home. With my daughter and their son being so close, I conceded to walk to their home first before our own. The children chattered away while us adults talked-well, gossiped, a little. Patrik doesn't gossip much, but Mabell and I do. It is delightful to talk about other people for once, especially since it doesn't mean anything.
My daughters had such fun. When I went to check on them, they were both fast asleep, and Button was at my heels, waiting for me to go to sleep myself.
4 November 1636
I went back to see Grace's son today and I almost did not believe my eyes. He is getting better. He's going to survive through this illness. Meulin came with me and she saw the tears in my eyes. I think she knows I'm relieved.
I know I have many more years, and in each one I will have to live through the days my family died. In each one I will have to live through the day my baby boy died. Every November seventh I will have to remember holding my little Luke as his body grew cold in my arms, and I know I have to live with that.
I wish for November seventh to be wiped off the calendar, along with April tenth to sixteenth and August twenty-second. I don't want to remember all of my losses-my son, my family, my mother (or rather, what she could have been to me).
It is a complicated thing. I know my losses are a part of me, but they can be such a heavy weight. I want to have time to remember my family but they suffered so very much.
7 November 1636
Today is the day. He should be nineteen years old right now. I didn't work today. Of course I didn't. I stayed in bed and missed my son desperately. My little Luke. He was such a sweet little boy. I loved him, and I still love him. He was hope and he was the most amazing little boy in the world.
When one of my daughters has a baby, I will give her all of Luke's old things. And I think that it will be a continuation of life that will make me smile.
12 November 1636
Grace's son has recovered. He's going to be alright. He is going to live another day.
I have never felt so relieved. I think I may cry, yet again. I am an endless spring of tears, it seems, these days.
15 November 1636
It is getting awfully cold. I can feel it in my joints. I'm turning into those old women in the village who are always talking about feel the weather in their bones. I can feel my fingers aching after a long day of work, and my knees and hips tire quickly of walking. I suppose I am getting old. I'm certainly not a child anymore, or even a young adult.
My girls hardly notice the cold. They simply put on another skirt and a warmer cloak and spend time with all of their friends in the village. Sometimes they lot of them retreat back here, and I don't mind, since they don't interfere with my work. Heaven knows I don't want my daughters getting sick from the cold, anyway.
20 November 1636
Patrik was by for lunch today, of course. He never complains about my stews, even though I know they're not as good as what Mabell makes. (I have eaten her cooking and she is very skilled, and has nicer ingredients.) He is a kind friend that way.
"How are you feeling?" I asked him.
"I have been better," he said.
"Oh?"
"I cannot explain precisely why, but I am very worried for you."
"Patrik, my goodness, I'm fine. I'm eating and sleeping, and I have enough for my daughters."
"You have been ill more often."
"Well, I am getting older, aren't I? I'm surprised your health hasn't deteriorated more, considering all the stress you put yourself under."
"I hope this is not rude of me to say, but I do have access to more resources than you."
"Of course, but I'm the midwife. I know a lot about health. Look, the point is, you don't have to worry. I'm perfectly fine. I've had a few more little illnesses lately, that's all. It happens to the best of us."
"But with your health…"
"What about my health?"
He shifted. "This may be a sensitive topic, but…I have some awareness of what was done to you in the dungeons. I have noticed since then that you have had worse health ever since then."
"I suppose I have," I said. He's right that it's a sore subject, but he worries. I think it's only fair to let him know how I am. "But it happens. I'm not worried."
"Please tell me if there is anything I can do," he said anxiously. "Or if there is anything you need."
"I will. And you tell me if you need anything," I said. "I'm not exactly the perfect midwife, but I do my best."
"I appreciate all you have done for my family and for me," he said solemnly.
"No need to be so serious."
"I do," he said earnestly. "I do not wish for you to think I am being insincere."
"I know you do," I said with a smile. "And I genuinely appreciate you. Thank you."
"Thank you."
We didn't talk much more before he left. But it's nice to know he appreciates me. I try to do right by him, despite all that happened between us.
23 November 1636
Grace's son is perfectly healthy. I gave him one last checkup today and he is going to be fine. I almost can't believe it. My head is spinning from it. I feel as though my world has shifted entirely, even though I know I have treated people with winter fever before and nine years old is plenty enough to survive a relatively minor illness.
I suppose a part of me can't help but feel that winter fever is a death sentence for children. It's the part of me that still says I killed him by going to the festival in November, even though I know now (or I try to know, anyways) that's not true. Part of me will always feel, I think, that I should've done more for my little boy.
I did what I could. And now I am doing what I can for the other children of the village.
27 November 1636
It's awfully cold out. When I wake up all the joints in my fingers ache in a way I'm not used to. I think perhaps my body is starting to get tired as I get older. My body would rather I stay in bed and rest. Well, it's just going to have to deal with that fact that I have a job to do. I have responsibilities. Even if I can leave some of the hunting to Meulin, it is my job to take care of them.
I treated an older woman today with aching joints and crippling headaches. Her children are all grown, and her husband is dead, so she is quite happy. She used to do laundry and embroidery, but her fingers have grown clumsy and sore. I gave her some willow for the pain and the swelling, helped her with various tasks she struggles with, and gave her some stretches to do. I told her she can soak her hands in hot water in the morning and evening and left her some turmeric to take for it all.
It makes me wonder what will happen when I am old. Will my Meulin have her own daughter she'll be teaching? Maybe she'll bring her daughter to help treat me. And maybe I'll have some stories to tell my granddaughter. Or perhaps it will be my niece-my Nepeta's daughter-who will look after me when I am old. Maybe my Meulin will come by every week and help me with what I can no longer do.
Or perhaps they will have no children, no daughters, and they will forget, and no one will come care for me when I am old.
I hope it doesn't turn out that way. I am so afraid of dying alone.
30 November 1636
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, to celebrate hope. I believe I have said it before, but I now consider the world a hopeful place once more, as I did when I was young. I have children now. They have such a bright, beautiful future.
At dinner, my Nepeta said, "I'm hopeful because I know we're going to grow up."
"Oh?" I said.
"Yeah."
"What do you mean, 'you're going to grow up'?"
"That we're going to get to be grownups."
"We're not going to die," Meulin said. "Because we're not starving anymore. Right, Kitty?"
Nepeta nodded. "We're going to grow up. Because you're taking care of us."
"I'm glad you know that," I said. "But it's just my job. I'm your mother. If I weren't taking care of you, I'd be doing something terribly wrong."
"Well, our old parents were doing something terribly wrong, then," Meulin said.
"Yes," I said. "They were. But now…I'm so glad I've been able to do right by you girls. And I'm glad you feel that way. But you don't owe me anything, and I don't want you to feel like you do. Please, you don't…I love you. I love you both so, so much. And you don't owe me anything."
"I love you," Nepeta said. "You're my mama."
"I love you," Meulin said, too.
I love them so dearly. They have saved my life and I am so grateful I was allowed to take them in. They are hope.
4 December 1636
Patrik came by today, so I asked him what he imagined for his sons' futures.
"I suppose they will inherit my land. Horuss will, at any rate. They will make respectable marriages and have sons, and I will see them live to be adults. And then I will pass away. And you?"
"I hope my daughters grow up happy. I hope Meulin will take up the mantle as the midwife, and Nepeta will find work that she enjoys. And I wouldn't tell them, but…I do hope they have daughters."
"Why?"
"I-well-I'm not sure. But I suspect it is because I want to believe that someday, another young woman will learn to be the midwife."
He nodded. "You want your legacy to continue."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I suppose we all wish for such things."
I nodded and sipped my tea. We are like each other, Patrik and I, even though we are so very different.
7 December 1636
Second Sunday of Advent today, for joy. I would love to be joyful today, but I woke up with the most terrible headache. I've taken willow and turmeric but it won't go away. At dinner my girls talked about their friends and the books in the library and the good food and the things they love to do and our little family. It did make me smile, despite the pounding in my head.
All I want is for them to be happy. I so hope they are.
10 December 1636
People are coming to me now with their fingers blue from cold. I worry about people working themselves too hard in the cold as much as in the heat. I have them soak their hands and feet in warm water, getting it warmer and warmer until their skin is back to the normal color. And then I tell them how to not let this happen again.
I see the same people more than once sometimes. I worry about them. They're the same people who come to me in the summer with faces tomato-red from heat, and the ones who come only when they are so ill they can hardly stand. I worry about them because I know how hard it is to learn to care for yourself. It is so difficult, and so terribly important.
I try to tell them what I have spent my whole life learning, and I like to think that one day I'll get through to them.
14 December 1636
Third Sunday today, for peace. I think I am at peace, finally. I have a life to lead. I know where I am, and I know where I'm going. My daughters are alright. I am doing my work as well as I can. When I pass on, I will go where I go, and I have made my peace with that. I know, or at least I feel, that my first family is safe where they are now.
We're going to be alright. I can be at peace.
19 December 1636
I'm not sure what I'm going to give my girls this Christmas. I thought idly of getting Meulin her own bow and arrows, but I do not have the money for that right now.
I think if I found Nepeta a book on weather I could manage that. Some of the richer folks from the city sell their "out of fashion" books to us, and so I can buy them for cheaper than if they were new. If I can find one about the weather or plants, I'm sure Nepeta would devour it in a week.
For Meulin, perhaps I'll see if I can find her a little necklace. I think she'd like that.
21 December 1636
Today was the last Sunday of Advent, which is love. My goodness, how I love my daughters. I would do anything for them. I have a family, which is more than I hoped for when I lost my first family.
It is nice to be loved. A part of me has begun to relax, I think.
25 December 1636
Today was Christmas! It was a Christmas like any other, really, with the festival and the special dinner we make every year. But it was warm and wonderful and I felt happy. I don't mean a happiness despite anything; I was just happy. I haven't been happy in so long, but I was. I cried from it all when my daughters gave me their present: a beautiful scarf and hat they'd knitted themselves.
"Mama? What's wrong?" Nepeta asked.
"Nothing, Nepeta. I'm just so happy."
She looked unsure, but then smiled, and so did Meulin, and my heart melted.
I love them. I can't wait to see what they do when they grow up.
31 December 1636
Tomorrow begins 1637. My goodness. I remember when I was sixteen and 1620 seemed like it would never come to pass.
What do I want in the new year? I want to keep teaching my daughters. I want them to be happy, and I want to help them be happy. And I want my health to improve, I suppose. My nose has been running for two weeks now, much to my chagrin. It is extremely frustrating.