‘I don’t want to give up this baby, Hope,’ she whispered. ‘With every fibre in my body, I want to be a mother, and I know that Oskar would have wanted me to fight for our child.’
‘Then fight,’ Hope said. ‘This letter is your first step, but it doesn’t have to be your last.’
The next day, Hope wrote to her mother again, and to her sister as well. Her sister was already married and Amalie thought there might have been a chance that she would agree to raise the baby as her own, which would have allowed Amalie to at least be her loving aunt as she grew up. But she knew there was nothing more that she could do than ask, and now she just had to wait to see who might respond.
And while she waited, Amalie dedicated herself to helping Hope, knowing that the only way to keep from wallowing in her grief was to stay busy. She aired out the empty upstairs bedrooms and washed and folded laundry. She hung rugs outside and beat the dust out of them, wiped down every inch ofthe house, and then when there was nothing left inside to clean, she moved on to the garden.
‘Amalie,’ Hope said, one night as they sat outside and enjoyed a cup of tea. ‘I think it’s time for you to rest. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the help, my house has never been so clean, but you might hurry this baby along if you don’t sit down.’
‘You think the baby might come early?’
‘I think,’ Hope said, ‘that her mama needs to put her feet up and remember that she’s with child. But yes, sometimes if a woman does too much, it makes the baby come early.’
Amalie sat with that for a moment, realising what that would mean for her, if she didn’t have as much time as she’d thought.
‘I still haven’t heard back from his mother,’ she said.
‘I know, but there’s still time.’
Her sister had written back telling her she was sorry and wished she could do more, but that she’d found out she was pregnant herself, and she couldn’t imagine explaining how she had two babies born less than six months apart. Amalie had tried to understand, but she’d known in her heart that if the situation was reversed, she’d have taken her sister’s child in a heartbeat to make sure she stayed within the family.
‘We should look for a nice family, just in case,’ Amalie said, words she’d never thought she’d utter. ‘If I can’t find a way to keep her, if?—’
‘Amalie, I have more than one family who’d adopt your baby tomorrow if they could, but we don’t need to talk about that today,’ Hope said, reaching over and patting her hand. ‘Today, we’re just going to sit here and admire how well you trimmed those shrubs.’
They both laughed, and this time it was Amalie placing her hand over Hope’s. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘You have nothing to thank me for.’
But Hope was wrong. She had everything to thank her for—for giving her a roof over her head, for her kindness, for her sage words of advice.
‘Is it foolish to believe that I might be able to do this alone?’
‘Foolish? No. You’re already a mother, Amalie—from the moment you feel that child moving in your belly, you’re a mother,’ Hope said. ‘And mothers know best. So, if you think you can do this on your own, then I don’t doubt you for a second.’
They sat a while longer, and once they’d finished their tea, she turned to her. ‘You know who I didn’t think of until now?’ she said.
Hope’s eyebrows arched in question.
‘Alexander. Oskar’s brother.’ Amalie remembered the kindness he’d shown her, how he was so similar to his brother in all the ways that counted, or at least, that’s what she’d seen in their first meeting together.
‘Do you think he might help you?’ Hope asked.
‘I think it’s worth asking him. For all I know, he doesn’t even know what’s happened to me. Perhaps he’d consider helping me financially, just enough to get me on my feet.’
‘Well, I’d suggest writing to him then. Like I told you the first time, it’s only a letter, and you can but ask.’
‘The worst that can happen is that he says no,’ she said, repeating what Hope had told her.
‘Exactly. But at least you’ll know you tried.’
Amalie sat a little longer as Hope cleared their teacups and disappeared inside. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of Alexander sooner.
‘Here,’ Hope said, placing a fresh sheet of writing paper and a pen on the table beside her. ‘You write the letter, I’ll post it in the morning.’
Amalie leaned into her as Hope embraced her, and the moment Hope let go, Amalie picked up the pen and began to write. She decided not to hold back, to pour her heart out on the page, knowing that this might be her only chance.
Dear Alexander,
