Ana had begun to learn that marriage was a particularly chaotic business when one got emotionally involved, particularly when one’s husband was in the army, was called away during the holidays,andspoke a different language.There were entirely too many things that were lost in translation in the chaos that ensued from all of that.Only this morning, they’d been trying to have a conversation about the future, and Ana’s mind had become so worked up that she seemed to forget English entirely.
“What can I do to help you today?”Peter had asked.In days past, the question had seemed to bring them together, like the binding of a book, helping them to work in better unison.But today, the question overwhelmed her.The pages of carefully memorized English words were falling all too quickly out of the book of her mind.Learning that Peter would leave her soon for a meeting with the army caused her insurmountable worry, even if it was for a mere day.She knew that it was a routine sort of meeting—at least, that’s what he had implied.But she could not shake the deep feeling of foreboding that weighed on her incessantly.This meeting could very well be a great deal more complicated than Peter believed.What if it threatened their future?
Anticipating his absence, and all the unknown that accompanied it, made even the simplest of tasks feel impossible.
“Hay tanto por hacer para preparar la casa para recibir un bebé.” She sat at her desk, scribbling a list of items that she needed to complete for the house to be prepared for the baby, while she rambled off as much in her native tongue.Beside her, Peter murmured to himself, apparently trying to make sense of her Spanish.
“Preparar...prepare.Casa...ah, yes, I remember that one.House.”
Ana breathed deeply in an effort to calm herself.It was humorous, was it not, that he was struggling to translate?This was her experience during every conversation of every day.It was high time that he did some of the translating, particularly when she could not organize a coherent thought in his tongue at the moment.
“Bebé...”he continued.“Well, that one I will not forget.Baby.You wish to prepare the house for the baby?”
“Claro,” she said with a nod.
“We still have many months to prepare, Ana, I’m not certain that all this is necessary right now...”
“Of course it is!”
Did he truly not understand what his leaving meant?If he left to meet with the army tomorrow, he could very well get called back to Spain or France within the week or the month.Surely they would not allow him the remaining months until her confinement.He would get sucked back into that distant, stoic version of Peter, so unlike the warm, attentive, thoughtful Peter she now lived with.All the progress that they had made together in learning to confide in one another would be lost.Ana knew her affection for him would not diminish, not ever, but she did not know she could say the same about him.She knew he cared for her.He had to, did he not?To kiss her and hold her and say and do such lovely things?But could he truly care for her as deeply as she did for him if he left her now?Now, when she only had a few more months until her confinement arrived?
How would she do it all alone?Mothers were not meant to be solitary creatures.That sort of living had destroyed her own mother.
And so Ana was clinging to the only thread of hope that she had, wondering that if she could remind Peter of the child she was carrying, who would soon join her in this world, that perhaps he would remember they had an entire life to live together.Perhaps he would remember that he cared for her more than he cared for his responsibility in the army.More than he cared about gaining justice for San Sebastián.And in telling him all that there was to do to prepare for the baby, she sent prayers up to the heavens, begging God to help her husband to come back to her, at the very least for the sake of her baby.
And therewasa great deal to prepare for.They would have to get the nursery together, not to mention find a nurserymaid if such a thing was needed.But she wasn’t certain what else was necessary.She had never had a child before.She hadn’t the least idea what to do to prepare for childbirth.How would she endure such a strenuous and potentially dangerous experience when she could not even communicate with the midwife or physician?A sudden anxiousness bathed her brow, and her heart quickened.Her hand scribbled even faster now.
“I worry myself that I will not be able to dotodo lo necesario para prepararnos,”
“Más lento, por favor?”Peter said, his voice strained and rough.
Ana sighed, shaking her head in frustration.She could try to revert to English, but her mind was already racing.It was so much easier to express herself in her native tongue.After all, Peter had insisted he would learn Spanish.She should be practicing with him more often.
There was much that needed to be done to the house to prepare.Her bedchamber needed a small bassinet andpañalesfor changing the baby at night.Not to mention all the preparations that would need to happen when her confinement was close at hand.And Peter’s impending absence seemed to rip out from under her the feeling of stability she had slowly been building.She had started to depend on him so much.And anticipating his absence made her feel all the more insecure about her own abilities.
There was much that needed to be done inherto prepare.But how could she tell him that she felt entirely inadequate to be a mother?How could she bring a child into a world that had been so cruel to her and her family?It was as if she had pushed off to sea all on her own in a tiny fishing boat.She was trying to row, trying to survive with the life growing inside her, but there were moments, even days, when the waves around her looked terrifying indeed.Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she stood, her chest heaving and her hands cupped over her midsection.
If anything, emotion would always get Peter’s attention.Not that she had contrived her outburst falsely, but sure enough, Peter’s eyes, cloudy with visions of Spanish translations, became clear instantly.He was at her side a moment later, grasping her hand and her waist, helping her to sit.
“Are you ill?Should I call for the physician?”
Ana shook her head.How could she make him understand?This language!This Englishman!It made this all the more frustrating and difficult.
“Then what is wrong?Should I call for the physician?”
“Estoy bien,” she said through her tears, squeezing his hand twice for emphasis.
His fingers released hers to rub at his temples, and she felt the absence of his touch, his warmth, like a stinging wound.“This is a great deal more difficult than I imagined, I must confess.How can I help you if I cannot understand you?”
“No me siento preparada para ser una mamá sin ti.”I don’t feel prepared to be a mother without you.There.She had said it.But had he understood?
“Ana, I promise I will only be gone for a day.”
Ana didn’t believe it.
Peter continued, “David—Sir Huntington—has implied there is some urgency in the meeting, but I do believe it will be taken care of with great efficiency.”
“But what if you are gone longer than that?”What if you are gone a great deal longer?And what happens if you never return?Ana wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could protect her from the sky-high waves that surrounded her.
