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AFTER A MORTIFYINGLY LONG AMOUNT of time, Leah’s crying had quieted. She leaned back, and Kaylah released her. Leah tried not to be embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. How can I help you?”
Leah loosed a breath. “I have no idea.”
“Does ... Marcus know?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone about that. And I’m not ready for anyone to know.” Her mom had pleaded with her not to share the truth of her conception with anyone.
Despite Kaylah’s nod, she looked as though she didn’t fully agree with that call.
“And please don’t do anything with my mom, or say anything to her either.” As far as Leah knew, Kaylah never visited her mom in prison, but Kaylah did still have some sway politically.
Kaylah didn’t respond, but her expression hinted she wanted to tear Beata a new one.
“I know I should hate her, but she’s the only person that’s always been there for me. Even if it was ... not always what I needed.” Leah sniffled once more. “She didn’t tell me that to be mean. She let it slip on accident. She doesn’t even realize I feel this way.”
“She should, Leah. She deserves to feel the weight of her decisions, not you. She should be protecting you, not the other way around.”
Leah frowned, glancing down at the picnic blanket. Her mom was so lonely in prison. And no one knew her mom the way Leah did. Her mom could do better, could become a better person. “Please.”
Kaylah sighed. “Fine.”
They continued to eat their picnic in relative silence. Leah reached for a cloth napkin at one point to wipe her hands on, but she’d used them all for tissues.
“You know, kiddo...” Kaylah scooped a spoonful of pudding. “Going back to the whole you-becoming-a-mother thing? I think you’ll be a great one. You’re more mature than your mother was, and you know what mistakes to avoid.”
“Thanks.” It hurt to be both compared and contrasted to her mom.
“I kinda thought you and Marcus were...” Kaylah rocked her head back and forth. “You know, talking about tying the knot.”
Leah picked at a pastry. “Well, yeah, we’ve talked about it. But I was in school, and he was going off on his internship and focusing on his career, and...” She shrugged. “I guess it’s a good thing I was never really a princess, because I suck at dating or even being remotely related to royalty.”
Kaylah gave her a small grin. “I was a real princess, and I still sucked at it.”
Leah chuckled.
***
When she retired to her room that night, Leah lay there, her arms spread wide across the massive bed. What did she want? To be in Marcus’s arms. To have him warming her, kissing her, telling her it would all be okay.
But he wasn’t there. She considered her letter in the bedside drawer. Perhaps she ought to not wait until this arbitrary four-month mark in her pregnancy to send it to him.
Though ... she did want to hold off a bit. She needed to process everything she’d just thrown at Kaylah, process what she wanted, and if the contents of the letter would change.
As much as she hated the idea of journaling like her mom and Rachel had, it made sense to write out her thoughts.
The next morning, Leah took Kaylah’s suggestion to start one.
She didn’t even know how to journal.
Do people just write ‘Dear Diary’ and treat the book like it’s a person they’re telling their story to? Or maybe that’s only diaries... What’s the difference between a diary and a journal?
Had she been in the human world, she’d have whipped out her phone and looked up all those questions on the internet. As she was in a realm without electricity, she had to do what came to her. It made sense to start from square one.
So ... before I was born...
The weather was tepid, the breeze light, as she sat under the pavilion and wrote. She had to admit it was cathartic. And she also had to admit that she needed a handkerchief, or two, or a dozen, if she was going to take this up.
But she spent hours pouring her soul into that thing. It was her witness. It was her warden. It was her shame and hope and sorrow.
Only when she shivered did she realize she was squinting, the light of the day fading. And she was famished.
Tucking the notebook under her arm, she headed inside. Having eaten breakfast on her own, as well as a meager snack she’d taken out with her, she made a beeline for the dining room. She halted at Eric’s voice. “You’re sure she’ll be okay?”
“Yeah,” Kaylah replied. “Sometimes we just need time and space to heal.”
Leah clutched her journal, rounding the corner. “Sorry I’m late.” She was abominably late. Kaylah and Eric’s plates had been cleared, and they had dessert sitting untouched in front of them.
“I didn’t mean to break my promise.” She’d missed a full day of meals, not spending any with them.
Kaylah smiled, gesturing at the food dishes still on the table, and at Leah’s empty dinner plate. “A little birdie told us you were busy jotting in that notebook of yours. We figured you’d join us when the light was all gone, or that pregnant body of yours forced you to seek nourishment.”
Leah matched her smile, sitting down and setting the journal on the chair beside her. “Thanks.”
As Leah scooped mashed potatoes onto her plate, Kaylah leaned her head on Eric’s shoulder. They sat extra close during private meals, a far cry from the formal affairs they often attended. “In case you heard us on your way in, I was telling Eric why you were out there. Not any specifics, just that we had a good chat yesterday.”
Eric raised his hands in a gesture of ‘it’s not my business if you don’t want it to be my business.’
Leah liked Eric, and he’d never acted as though he judged Leah, but she was grateful Kaylah hadn’t shared anything. Leah was still ashamed to be a mess. “Thanks.” Though she was surprised. They didn’t seem like the kind of couple that kept secrets from one another, or perhaps Leah didn’t know them as well as she thought. They were diplomats, after all. Eric had technically been Kaylah’s consort, and Kaylah had probably kept plenty of information from him during their reign. But as Leah started eating those perfectly creamy mashed potatoes, she doubted that.
She did love Kaylah. That she had saved her that day in the backyard of the cottage, that she was being impartial and helpful, and kind. That she was willing to keep Leah’s secrets. And in that moment, Leah realized...
“Have you ever had servants follow me into the woods?”
“You’re sturdy,” Kaylah said. “We figured you’d make it back in one piece. They’ve only ever checked on you by tracking you down to make sure you were okay if you were gone for too long and missed a meal.”
Leah nodded, scooping another spoonful, her mind in those woods. Kaylah had let her wander those woods to her heart’s content, full-well knowing Leah had made an attempt at tree rifting to the human world to escape. Any number of those trees could have been Leah’s ticket out of here, but she hadn’t thought to do it.
She felt safe at Kaylah’s. She felt free without the cage.
Just earlier that day, she could’ve sworn she’d felt the baby move for the first time. It had been heartwarming, and painful. Her journal entry echoed that of her own mother’s, one penned long ago.
I felt the baby for the first time today. How is it the best things can bring the most pain? I’ll do anything to keep it safe. But it reminds me so much of him.
Leah knew what she needed. And she needed to change that letter to Marcus.
***
Leah kept reading and writing. Kaylah and Eric ordered maternity clothes for her. Leah had rewritten her letter to Marcus, but hadn’t worked up the guts yet to send it, or to discuss her plans with Kaylah.
She could take a little more time, no rash decisions like her dad. Instead of rushing into things, she added another project to her to-do list. One that brought a smile to her face. With more movement in her growing belly, she was sure she could feel the baby now, and she wanted to do something special for her.
She started to write her stories. Stories about a brave little Ivy girl taking on a variety of adventures and challenges. She wrote little boy stories, too, in case she was wrong about the gender. She couldn’t draw worth beans, though, so hopefully her future child could appreciate stick figures that looked like someone drew them with their eyes closed.
***
The pavilion had become one of her favorite spots to journal. The midday sun was warm on her back as she scratched out her feelings about having to move cross-country during Christmas one year. In the present, Christmas was just a few days away.
A male voice cleared his throat from just outside the pavilion.
“I packed a lunch,” Leah said. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” a hesitant and familiar voice replied.
Leah’s heart ceased to beat as she looked up, taking in those warm brown eyes, that curly brown hair. “Marcus,” she breathed.