Chapter Ten

Ana's fingers moveddeftly, her needle piercing the fabric, joining blue and red squares into a patchwork of warmth meant for Lillian. They called her Lilli more often than not, but they all loved her.

Rosie sat across from Ana, her hands just as busy, but her eyes often drifting to the cradle where the baby slept.

Izzy folded diapers for the baby.

"Blue like the sky," Ana murmured, holding up a square. "Red like the roses by the well." She smiled but it was a weary one, the corners of her mouth betraying the effort it took. The colors blurred before her eyes. Between the mornings in the infirmary, and the nights filled with Lilli's feedings, she was exhausted.

"Perfect for our Lilli," Isabelle responded.

"She'll love it," Rosabelle added.

Ana let out a sigh, her thoughts trailing off to William. He would wrap this quilt around his child, she knew, with the same tenderness he had shown her. Ana wished she had a way to take some of the burden from him, but she didn't know how beyond helping him in the infirmary every morning.

Lilli stirred, a tiny fist breaking free from the blanket's embrace. Ana stilled her sewing, watching as her sisters paused until the baby settled once more.

"Almost done," Ana said.

Rosie looked down at the quilt and smiled. "We'll have to make another when we finish this one. Izzy's baby needs one too."

"And I think we'll need one more after Izzy's," Ana said softly. "I haven't told William yet, so don't say a word!"

"Is this a good thing?" Rosie asked softly.

"William wants children," Ana murmured, the needle pausing at the crest of a blue square. "He loves Lilli so much, but he wants his own children."

She looked over at the sleeping baby in the cradle. "It was Lilli," Ana continued. "Deciding to keep her... It stirred something in him. A longing."

Her fingers resumed their work, but more slowly now. She could feel her sisters' eyes on her, their brows furrowed with concern and curiosity alike.

"I fear it, though," she confessed. "Childbirth. The pain it brings." She glanced toward the cradle where Lilli lay, peaceful in dreams. "I love her, dearly so. But to endure such agony...Can I love another who would cause it?"

In the periphery, she sensed her sisters exchanging looks, their own concerns about childbirth etched into the lines around their eyes.

"Ana," Rosie said gently, reaching out to cover her hand with her own. "It's a love different from any other. A love that grows, even through pain."

"Besides," Izzy said with a smile, "you've already proven you're stronger than you think."

Ana's sisters converged upon her, their arms enfolding her in an embrace that spoke of shared joy and unyielding support.

"Then we sew not just for Lilli," Rosie whispered, "but for the little ones yet to come."

"And you'll love them," Izzy added, her tone firm, "as fiercely as you love us."

"Love is infinite, Ana," Rosie said, "it multiplies with every heartbeat."

*****

THE CLINK OF SILVERWAREagainst porcelain had faded, leaving the room draped in a quiet that mirrored the night sky outside. Ana cradled Lilli in her arms, the soft suckling the only sound punctuating the silence.

William sat across from her, his eyes tracing the tender scene.

"William," Ana's voice was almost a whisper. "There is something I must tell you."

He leaned forward.

"I believe... I am with child." The words tumbled out, half fear, half wonder.

The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting as William processed her confession. Then his face lit up with a smile that warmed her.

"Truly?" He was obviously thrilled. "Ana, that is... that is wonderful news!"

She watched him rise and come around the table to where she sat, still feeding Lilli. His hands, those healers' hands, were steady as they rested on her shoulder, grounding her.

"To have a child of my own," he said, "to love as I do Lilli..." He paused, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "And for that child to come from you, the woman I love, it's more than I ever dared hope for."

Ana felt a swell of something inside her. It was overwhelming and yet, at this moment, it was right. She could not fathom the future, but she knew that whatever came, it would be theirs to face together.

"William," she murmured, her hand finding his. "I am scared, but your joy...it helps."

The silence between them stretched. Ana's heart hitched as she regarded William, the lines of his face softened by candlelight. His words lingered in the air, tender yet terrifying in their implications.

"Love is not a debt you owe for carrying a child," she whispered.

William's smile didn't falter, but it deepened with an earnestness that tugged at her soul. "Ana," he said. "I do not say it out of obligation."

His hand, once resting on her shoulder, now cradled her cheek. "I say it because it's the truth. It was true before this news and it will remain true."

Ana searched his eyes. Her breath caught as the reality of his words sank in, roots entwining with the very core of her being.

"Less than a year apart," he continued. "Our home filled with the sounds of two little ones."

Ana looked down at the baby in her arms. "I hope this one is sleeping through the night before the next one arrives."

He chuckled. "I do too. Nothing could have made me happier than this news, Ana. I hope you know that."

She smiled, nodding. "I'm getting used to the idea."

Ana put the baby in her cradle before joining William in the bedroom where he waited for her.

Ana's fingers trembled as she reached for William's outstretched hand. "William," she began. "I..."

The words lodged in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to force the words. Even though he'd admitted he loved her, she was having a hard time saying the same thing to him. Yet as she gazed into his eyes, those wellsprings of unwavering resolve, she found a reflection of her longing—a yearning not just for the comfort of companionship but for the all-consuming blaze of love that threatened to consume her.

"I love you," she said, the declaration slipping out like a sigh carried on the evening breeze.

His smile was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring her words. There was no triumph in his expression, only a deep-seated contentment that spoke of shared hardships and the solace found in each other's presence.

"Ana," he replied, "you've given me more than I ever dared hope for."