**Diary Entry**
“Mum, please stop lecturing me. Mark and I planned to have a baby in about three years—maybe longer! We’ve got so much going on—projects, plans, even a holiday in Spain. A baby now? Seriously, Mum?” The frustration in my daughter’s voice was so sharp that Catherine quickly ended the conversation.
Young, ambitious, full of dreams—ready to take on the world. Then, an unplanned pregnancy.
“Darling, just… don’t do anything rash before we visit Rivermere, alright?” My mother’s plea was barely above a whisper.
***
For as long as I can remember, we’ve always celebrated Mum’s birthday in Rivermere. I never understood the appeal—a quiet dinner by candlelight, followed by a dawn visit to the old abbey.
“Dad, why do we always go to that sleepy little village? It’s so dull!”
“Without Rivermere, there’d be no you, or your mum… or even me, come to think of it. Understand?”
I muttered, “Sure,” though I hardly did.
This year, Dad was gone—heart attack. Watching Mum retreat into her grief, I suggested we go to Rivermere, just the two of us.
“Darling, I thought you hated it there.”
“I love you, Mum… Mark can’t get time off work anyway.”
***
The stifling heat had eased, leaving the air thick with the scent of cut grass and wild strawberries. Mum stepped onto the veranda, breathing deeply.
“Wish William could see this…”
“Mum, remember when Dad and I baked your birthday cake? Flour everywhere—the kitchen, the porch, even the shed. You just laughed and said it looked like a winter wonderland.” I draped a blanket over her shoulders.
“Darling… we need to talk about the baby.”
“—Kill or keep”—I exhaled sharply, rolling my eyes. “Mum, don’t. Mark and I have decided. We choose freedom!”
“Please, let me finish…” Her voice trembled. “You know you were a late baby. The doctors said I wouldn’t survive the birth. Not a chance.”
“Oh, Mum—” I pulled her close, feeling her shake.
“Let me speak… When William found out, he was beside himself—started smoking again. He wanted children so badly, but he loved me more than life itself. Said he couldn’t live without me. Then my friend Margaret invited us to Rivermere. I went to say my goodbyes… and to prepare him. My decision was made—you would live, even if I didn’t.”
“You gave up everything for me—” My breath hitched.
“I had decided, but telling William… it was agony. I went to the abbey, praying to St. Agnes for guidance. One evening, walking back, I saw the neighbours’ barn ablaze. A dog dashed inside, came out with a puppy in her jaws, then charged back in. The roof collapsed. She emerged again—blind, burned—dropped the second pup at my feet, then went back. Minutes later, she dragged out a third, licked a tear from my cheek… and died.
William found me sobbing, clutching those puppies. He never questioned me again. But his eyes were red-raw until the day you were born—perfect, against all odds. The doctors called it a miracle.” Mum’s face softened.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I suppose… the time wasn’t right.”
***
A year later, Mark and I bought Mum a cottage in Rivermere. Sitting on the veranda with my newborn son, I whispered, “This is our best project, Mum. My happiness. I can’t believe I nearly threw it away for some imagined freedom.”
Mum smiled faintly, her words barely audible:
“We didn’t live this life for nothing…”
