Disclaimer: I am not Libba Bray. The majority of these characters are not mine.

August 9, 1895

It has been three weeks since I arrived in America. The voyage here was rough, leaving me doubled over a pail for most of my seasick journey, but the steadiness of dry land has not settled my stomach. I have visited the college nurse, but she has had no explanation for my queasiness and no herbal tea has remedied my persistent nausea. This morning, I looked in the mirror and noticed that my face was rounder, my hips fuller. Upon further inspection, my dresses all fit tighter as well. I have not been able to eat, how am I not gaunt as a skeleton?

A final bout of vomiting has me taking a cab to the nearest doctor, who checks me over. I do not exhibit any symptoms of a cold or influenza, so he is perplexed. Finally, he asks me with a tilt of his head, "Miss Doyle, if I may be so bold, is there any possibility of pregnancy?"

My heart stops. My memory races back to the day Kartik and I visited the realms, the hours we spent in the Caves of Sighs. Is it possible that I could be with child? The mere thought has me dashing to the bin in the corner, whether from anxiety or sickness I cannot say. I have only just begun college in America! I am not even seventeen, I can barely support myself, much less a child! The doctor pats my shoulder lightly, scribbling on a pad of paper. He sends me to a doctor down the road, a Dr. Kittredge, a female doctor. I thank him and blush my way out the door.

I duck inside the Dr. Kittredge's office, avoiding the glares of the respectable ladies outside, who whisper at the scandal of such a young girl having need of such a place. The receptionist sends me straight back to an examination room. I see the shake of her head and the tut tut she makes from the corner of my eye as I close the door behind me, resisting the strong urge to cry. I take a seat on the examination table and wish my mother were here.

Dr. Kittredge is a slender woman with honey blonde hair to her shoulders. Her face is warm and friendly and I am grateful, for I am a nervous wreck as it is. She assures me that everything will be all right and runs a few tests. After nearly an hour of staring into my lap and twiddling my thumbs, Dr. Kittredge returns.

"Miss Doyle, the test results are back. Come January, you will be a mother." I feel as if I should do something, weep, faint, but all I can do is stare blankly ahead. I feel Dr. Kittredge's hand on my shoulder. "I understand that this is difficult for a woman in your position Miss Doyle, but rest assured that I will be with you every step of this process." Her smile is soothing, and I find myself nodding in response. She tells me to return in two weeks and gives me a box of small, round pills for my nausea. I thank her and, slightly glassy-eyed, leave the office in a haze.

October 21, 1985

I have been feeling kicks for weeks. As I sat brushing my hair in front of my small mirror before bed one night, I felt a small nudge in my steadily growing stomach. The mixture of emotions had me crying into my pillow for at least an hour.

I am six months along now. Six months have passed since the final battle in the Winterlands. Four since I decided to keep this surprise child. The first few weeks with the knowledge of my pregnancy were, of course painful. The pain of Kartik's loss was and is still fresh, and I heavily weighed my options, as a single girl of not even eighteen years. But this baby has been a welcome reminder of Kartik. How better to carry on his memory than to bring a part of him into the world?

I am, of course, fearful of the days to come, for I already receive strange glances and hear whispers as I pass on the street, and I am clueless to the unknowns of motherhood. But I have overcome so much that their words have no power. Perhaps this child shall be a new, beautiful chapter in my life.

And it is my choice to embrace it, come what may.

January 8, 1896

This morning, as I was about to leave my small apartment to walk to my job down the block, I felt a strong pain in my abdomen. It left me breathless, gripping my bed frame for dear life. I called for the housekeeper, who called Dr. Kittredge from her office. Her face is gentle as usual, but lined with grim determination. She, with some help from our nursemaids, finds me a comfortable position on my bed, as comfortable as comfortable can be at the moment. I am terrified, but I will not let myself show it. I am Gemma Doyle and I am strong.

After hours of pushing and sweating and crying, my pain is finally over, and I fall limp in exhaustion. I hear a small crying sound and my heart swells. I open my eyes to Dr. Kittredge's beaming grin.

"Congratulations, Gemma. It's a boy." A boy. He has been wrapped in a soft blanket, only his face and tiny fingers emerging from the cloth. She places him gently in my arms and I drink him in. His skin is the crisp golden brown of dosa and it brings tears to my eyes. He coos softly, stretching his tiny fingers to grasp at the air. His eyes open and reflecting back at me are two perfect brown pupils flecked with gold. My breath catches in my throat. I rest my forehead against his and weep. It does not matter that I am friendless and alone in this moment, for I have him and he is all I shall ever need.

"We must give him a bath," Dr. Kittredge says softly. "But first, do you have a name for him?" I had not thought of a name, truthfully. As a priestess, I had counted on having a girl, but I am no less grateful for my son.

"Henry," I whisper, tasting the name on my tongue. I like it. "I shall name him Henry." I plant a kiss on his tiny forehead. He is so small, so delicate, so like his father that I ache. He is perfect.

"Henry Doyle. It is a lovely name." Dr. Kittredge removes him from my grasp and I watch as they clean him and measure him. He cries softly until he is back in my arms and this pleases me. I watch him full of awe as he slowly drifts to sleep in my arms. He reminds me so much of Kartik that it hurts. If only he could be here to witness this single moment. He would be so proud of us both.

For a moment, a surge of panic seizes my chest. What if I am a terrible mother? What if I cannot provide for Henry, what if I must leave school to care for him? He coos softly in sleep, his hand stretching up. I offer him my smallest finger and his curl into a fist around it. This one gesture is enough to reassure me that though I have even less maternal experience than I have guidance, I shall do everything possible to be the mother Henry deserves. If I do anything right in my life, I want it to be Henry.

Dr. Kittredge offers to stay the night with me, allowing me to get some much-needed rest while she cares for Henry and I accept.

When I sleep, I dream. I have not dreamed of Kartik in some time, but I welcome the panging ache of his loss with a new edge of excitement. He awaits me on the far shore, as I always see him. He smiles. "It is a boy," I say, though I know he cannot hear me. "He is perfect. Thank you." Kartik nods, places his hand over his heart. I do the same. "I love you, too," I whisper.

Then I am suddenly awakened by a wayward cry and my days as a mother have begun.

So this was probably pretty whatever, but I promise, you'll wanna keep reading. Things are about to get really interesting!