cried out. She rushed into the room, her arms full of fresh bed linens. “Have Roland send for the midwife now!” It would be at least half a day before a midwife could get here from Astrea.
Hanna raced out of the room, nearly knocking over Lenore as she entered. She passed me the vial of oil.
“Keep a cool towel on the back of her neck,” I instructed, handing Lenore the water. I warmed the oil between my hands before spreading it across Morella’s stomach. “Lavender will help you relax,” I told her. “Breathe it in. Doesn’t it remind you of a beautiful spring day?”
“There were flower fields near my house when I was a little girl,” Morella whispered, a trace of a smile on her face. “I loved to run through all those petals.”
As I massaged the oil in, a sharp kick jabbed at my hand, and she groaned again.
“Are they fighting to the death?” she asked.
“They’re probably just squabbling for space. It must be rather cozy in there, don’t you think?”
She doubled over, wheezing.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” I continued massaging. Something long and sleek, perhaps a back or maybe a leg, rippled out under my hand, and I pushed away the idea that it was a swish of something serpentine.
The babies are healthy, the babies are normal, I silently repeated over and over.
Scooping out a generous dollop of lotion, I rubbed it into the tight skin, softening it and relaxing her in the process. Verity opened the door, and Mercy carried in a tea tray.
“We brought some of the ginger scones you like, Morella,” Mercy said, sliding the tray onto the nightstand. The soothing scent of chamomile wafted from the little kettle. “We thought maybe the babies were hungry.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you both,” Morella murmured around another sharp movement from the twins. “Thank you.”
Once her abdomen was well and truly moisturized, we dressed her in a clean gown and moved her over to the sitting area so Hanna and the triplets could change the bedsheets. Morella nibbled on a scone while watching them work. Honor brushed out her hair with long, comforting strokes.
I noticed tears welled in the corners of her eyes. They were fat and clung to her eyelashes, not like the ones of pain that had raced down her cheeks earlier, eager to be free and spread their misery.
“Morella, what’s wrong?”
“You’ve just been so kind. I never expected that.”
I squeezed her hand. “We’re family, we take care of each other. We want you feeling as good as you can right now. All of us.”
Morella’s breath caught in her throat, and she nodded, averting her gaze to the window. “I wish Ortun was here.”
“He’ll be home tomorrow, I think.”
When he’d left for Vasa, we’d all lined up in the foyer to wish him goodbye. He’d walked right by me, his jaw set in a tense clench.
Morella’s eyes grew pained. “He feels so far away.”
“Even if he was at home, I bet he’d be in the hallway, hiding with Roland,” I told her. “He gets rather squeamish about pregnancy things. I remember Mama teasing him he could stare down a forty-foot wave in nothing but a dinghy without a tremble, but a little bout of morning sickness was enough to send him racing for cover.”
She smoothed her hair back. “I’m just so tired. Would one of you mind helping me back to bed?”
Rosalie wrapped her arms around Morella as they shuffled back to the canopied bed. Morella crawled into the fresh sheets, pulling the duvet up to her chin.
“I just need to rest,” she murmured.
“Do you want us to stay with you while you fall asleep?” Though most of her color was back, her eyes were bright, and I worried there was a fever.
Her eyes fluttered up to the top of the canopy, staring at the great octopus making up the bed frame. Her jaw quivered as she studied it.
“Morella?” I prompted.
“I don’t need you all to stay, but…there is something I wonder if I could ask you to do?”
I sat beside her, careful not to jostle her stomach. “Anything.”
“The Churning Festival is only days away.” She pressed her lips together. “There’s still so much work to be done. I planned on getting to it once I felt better, but I’ve just been so tired the last few weeks. I…I feel as if it’s going to be a disaster. I don’t know how to do any of this. Plan the meals, plan the entertainment. I haven’t