Reluctantly Catherine’s arms relaxed. It was only for a few days. A few days and she would be back again, hopefully with an improving Antoinette. She shuddered at the thought of having her baby’s life threatened by illness. Poor Louise. Her friend had suffered so over the past months. Never knowing from one day to the next if her baby would remain with her, or if there would be a tiny grave dug beyond the orchard. Catherine lifted a corner of the blanket to take a peek at her daughter, then leaned to press a kiss to the smooth forehead. “I shall miss you,” she whispered. “I will miss you more than you’ll ever know. But we must do this. We must. We cannot let Antoinette die.” Catherine moved on. She was almost to the meadow. She prayed that the other mother would not keep her waiting, yet at the same time she hoped for more time with her own baby girl. Even so, each additional moment would just increase the difficulty of the parting. Louise was there, pacing back and forth before the fallen log.
