As the door closed behind her mother, Anna gazed down at the baby still nestled in the crook of her arm. She crossed the baby, then herself.
God had spared this innocent life for its own sake, she thought, and for purposes only He knew. Such was the great mystery of life—only the Father of all knew its intricacies. But no matter what happened, this beautiful child would never be alone—not if Anna could help it.
What am I thinking? she chided herself. Mama is surely wrong this time. The princess will sleep soundly, and all will be fine. The count will come soon to take his family home.
The child stirred in Anna’s arms, then let out a tiny sigh. She seemed so content just for these moments, now that her battle to enter the world was behind her. Tiny Mariana was unaware of all the turmoil of life’s cares swirling around her. Several days earlier, Katrina had wondered aloud whether they would ever be happy again. Anna found herself wondering the same about this innocent infant she was holding.
“Anna,” came a soft voice from across the room.
Anna laid the sleeping baby in a basket of dry laundry that she and her mother had prepared as a makeshift cradle.
Imagine, she thought to herself, the noble child’s first sleep among the poor rags of our laundry!
She walked to her mistress’s side.
“Anna, I am so warm . . . and wet,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“You have just had a wonderful baby, Princess,” Anna said. “A little bleeding afterward is to be expected.”
“Are you sure, Anna? I feel so weak.”
“Of course, Princess,” said Anna cheerily, ignoring the lump in her throat. “I will change the bedclothes so you can go back to sleep.” She stooped down, kissed the princess, then set about the task, not allowing Katrina to see the tears forming in her eyes, nor the red-soaked linens that were put outside the door after they had been replaced with fresh ones.
As Anna worked, she noticed that the princess was breathing rapidly and shallowly, so she assumed Katrina had gone back to sleep. Five or ten minutes of silence passed. Anna was almost startled when she heard her mistress’s voice again, though it was so soft she had to go to her side and lean down to discern the words.
“Anna,” she said feebly, “you won’t leave me, will you?”
“Never, Princess.”
“Anna, have I ever told you how much I love you . . . that you are more like a sister to me than a servant.”
“You have not needed to tell me, Princess. I have known.”
“I always wanted to have a sister, Anna.”
“I am honored that you would think such of me, Princess.”
“Anna, would you call me by my name? You have never done so.”
“Of course.”
“I want to hear my name from your lips, as if we were friends.”
“We are friends. The best of friends . . . Katrina.”
Katrina smiled. It sounded even more precious to her ears than she had thought it would.
“Thank you, Anna,” she murmured, closing her eyes again. “That is what you shall call me from now on.”
Even before the words had died out, she was again asleep.