Ingrid stays late at the library that night, hoping to avoid her family. Instead she finds Barb questioning her. It's been four days since she's found out about being pregnant, and her best friend has picked up on the fact that something is off with her. She insists that she's fine. She stays at the library even after it's empty just so she can have few moments of solitude.

By the time she gets home everyone has already eaten dinner. Wendy stands in the kitchen, at the sink washing dishes.

"Where is everyone?" Ingrid wonders.

"Freya had to stay late at the bar, and your mom is in the dining room."

"Oh."

Wendy grabs a dish towel, and dries her hands off. She turns and looks at Ingrid who leans against the counter nearby.

"You left awfully early this morning, is everything alright?"

"Just peachy."

"Ingrid are you okay?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Definitely not."

"Are you hungry? Your mom put the leftovers in the fridge."

"Not even a little bit."

"Where did you got this morning?"

"Does it matter?"

"We were just worried about you."

"No reason to worry. I just had an errand to run."

"Okay."

Ingrid grabs her bag off the counter, and reaches inside of the pocket. She pulls out the black and white image, staring at it in disbelief, for a few moments.

"What's that?" Wendy questions.

Ingrid looks up at her, and then offers the piece of paper to her. Wendy slips the black and white image from her fingers.

"Reality," Ingrid answers, flatly.

Wendy studies the black and white image carefully, "So this is where you went this morning?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

"No," her voice shakes as if she's on the verge of tears.

Without a word Wendy steps towards her. She wraps her arms around her. Tears start to roll down Ingrid's cheeks.

"Wendy, I don't know how to do this," she admits.

"We are all going to help you," Wendy insists as she lets go.

"I kept trying to pretend that it was just a dream, and that none of this was real."

"I know."

"I can't pretend anymore. It is right there, in black and white."

Wendy returns the picture to her, with a smile, "It looks like a little peanut."

"I'm not ready for this."

"The good news is that you have months to prepare for it."

"What if that's not enough time? What if I'm not any good at it?"

"Do you know who is really good with babies?"

"I..."

Wendy cuts her off, "You should show this to your mom."

Ingrid nods, and wipes her tears on the palm of her hand. She exits the kitchen, and heads into the dining room. She finds her mother sitting at the head of the table writing out bills. She pulls out a chair, and takes a seat to Joanna's left. Joanna puts her ink pen down, and looks up at her daughter.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know if I can do this," Ingrid admits.

"Ingrid..."

Ingrid slides the picture across the table to her mother.

"What's this?"

"According to Freya, it's Casper."

Joanna takes a deep breath, and then looks at the image before her. She scrutinizes the black and white image of the peanut shaped baby. She looks up at Ingrid.

"You weren't here when she said that."

"She sent me a text message earlier. All it said was Casper, with and LOL at the end."

"Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not okay. I am having a baby that I didn't plan for. A baby whose father is dead, and..."

"You're afraid?"

"I'm scared out of my mind," she reveals.

"That's okay. It's always scary."

"Always?"

Joanna nods, "No matter how many times you do it."

"I don't know what I'm doing."'

"You'll learn."

"What if I have a child, and then I die, and leave it behind?"

"Ingrid you would have to worry about that even if you weren't a witch."

"What if my baby is cursed, too?"

"Ingrid you can't worry about that."

"How can I not?"

"You have to have a little bit of faith."

"Faith in what? My entire life has been turned upside down in the past months. I don't know how to have faith."

"Everything is going to work out," Joanna insists.

"How can you know that?"

She shrugs, "I just do."

"You don't know that. No one can know that."

"Ingrid what do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Calm down," Joanna suggests.

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? I'm not ready for this. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this."

"No one is."

"I'm scared."

"That is okay."

"What if this isn't a good thing? What if this is some sort of..."

Joanna cuts her off, "Stop right there. Don't call it a curse. No matter how this turns out, it is still your child."