I had no tears left when I got out of bed the next morning. I brushed my hair in silence and tried to reduce the puffiness in my eyes to hide my emotional night. Ready or not, I knew what had to be done. I had an obligation to Ruby to put forth the best show I could manage, and hope for the best.

It was Sunday, so James and I ate a quick omelet breakfast before heading to the church. I felt eyes on me as we sang hymnals and listened to the preacher's sermon, and I knew that word had spread about my pregnancy.

After the sermon ended, I was barraged by well-wishers offering their congratulations. Childbearing was a sacred thing in Grayson where population growth was our main goal. I didn't recognize any of them- the faces of the congregation were still new to me. I shook hands with James' coworkers and their wives, who offered well-meaning advice. I smiled and listened politely, guilt gnawing a hole in my stomach. While James basked in the news, I wanted to curl up and cry. But I couldn't because I had a façade to maintain- for Ruby's sake.

Should it be under different circumstances I suppose the news would have been a cause for celebration. But given my situation and the events of the last several months, this pregnancy didn't feel like a joyous event. Ruby was bringing a life into the world that held backwards beliefs, and into a home with continual violence, and all the while, I was pretending that it was me who was pregnant. Instead of rejoicing, I wanted to vomit.

***************

I tried to be there for Ruby during the more difficult parts of the pregnancy- the morning sickness, the exhaustion, the irritability. She was doing me a great service, so the least I could do was hold her hair back when she was retching into the toilet bowl. I also used these moments as an opportunity to learn. I'd never been around someone with pregnancy symptoms, and as I was the one who was supposed to be enduring them. By watching Ruby, I knew how to respond to the curious ladies of the church who asked me how I was feeling each week.

Ruby insisted that I really play up her pregnancy symptoms to strengthen our case. At her coaxing, I often passed on meals when James was watching, pleading morning sickness, or pinching myself until I cried at the most irrational moments, blaming it on my hormones, or forcing down so many pickles, as though I were the one craving them, until I was sick to my stomach. It was exhausting keeping up, and stressful to ensure I didn't do something to cause James to suspect our lie. If I was this strained, I could only imagine how Ruby felt when she was the one actually growing the baby.

The only benefit of my pretend pregnancy was that it seemed to change James. He was like a new man, drinking less and less with each passing week. He hadn't laid a finger on me since finding out the news, and every now and then, when he was in an especially good mood, he would even occasionally send a kind word or gesture my way.

As Ruby's stomach grew, so did my anxieties. I feared that we'd be caught, that we would be punished by James or the Guardians, or that we were causing the child to suffer unnecessarily by not seeking medical care.

But if Ruby was concerned, she didn't let it show. Instead, she focused all of her attention on loosening the seams of her clothes little by little, allowing the folds to hide her ever growing stomach. She hid her swollen abdomen well, so much so that one would never know there was a child growing there. But I knew, and seeing her each day was a constant reminder of the danger I was putting her in.

On the flip side, Ruby began sewing padding on the inside of my shirts and dresses, taking in the waistlines in just the right places to accentuate my fake pregnancy stomach so that anyone who saw me knew there was no mistaking the truth behind my impregnation.

I continued visiting the doctor every few weeks to ensure that my "pregnancy" was going according to plan. Dr. Winthrop had been a saint about the situation, always careful to position himself and the ultrasound machine just out of Sister Margaret's view. He even went so far as to print off a picture of my baby. As Sister Margaret gushed over the tiny peanut on the photo, I couldn't help but wonder who the baby really belonged to.

It was kind of Dr. Winthrop to provide this additional gesture when he had already done so much for me. Or perhaps he was simply being thorough, covering his own tracks before he could be implicated in this crazy scene that I had unwittingly roped him into. Regardless, it was nice to feel like he might be on my side.

The worst part of the pregnancy was wondering what the gender of the baby would be. If it was a boy, I might not be so terrified and maybe I could handle having him in our home. I would still stay on constant eggshells knowing James could hurt him in one of his outbursts, but at least I had the comfort of knowing he would grow up to have a nice life. Maybe he would go into government like his father and have the power to make decisions that might help thousands of people. Maybe he would take a different route than his father, and end up being a good man.

But if Ruby wasn't having a boy, if she had a little girl, it meant that when she turned eighteen, she would go through her own Awakening Ceremony. She would be bound to a man for the rest of her life, same as I had been with James. And just like me, she may be forced into a violent marriage with an addict, or worse yet, she could end up with a cruel old man like Charlotte did, and it was clear what happened to her. The guilt consumed me as I think about what the child's future might hold.

The only time I wasn't walking on pins and needles was when Ruby and I were curled up in bed, holding one another close. I stared into her emerald eye and caressed the small red "X" branded into her cheek.

"Are you nervous?" I asked, glancing at her stomach.

"A little," she admitted. "I've done this a few times now, but this time is obviously different."

I nodded. "Do you really think we can pull this off?"

"I think we don't have a choice," she said.

"James won't be a very good father. You and I both know that. No matter how good of a farce he's putting on right now, it's only a matter of time before he returns to his old ways."

"I know," she said, her forehead creasing with worry. "But no matter what happens, I don't regret doing what I did. It was the only way to keep you safe. And look what came out of it."

She took my hand and placed it gently on her on her abdomen. I gasped when a gentle thud vibrated my hand. I pulled away to see the slight outline of a tiny hand pressed against the inside of Ruby's stomach.

She smiled. "I think the baby likes you."

I leaned down and kissed her stomach in the spot where the baby was pressing. "I love you too, buddy."

Ruby brushed my hair behind my ear. "I know that you're afraid, Mia. Afraid of getting caught, afraid of what this baby might endure, afraid that they will grow up with a father who doesn't care for them the way that they deserve. But as long as the baby has you and me, they will never doubt that they are loved. Together we can give them a good life."

I smiled and laid my head against her stomach, allowing the small flutters inside of her to ease the months of stress. This was how things were always meant to be.

***************

Later that week, I was sitting on the kitchen stool after, sipping my coffee and stifling a yawn. James had left for work, stringing and snapping green beans and dicing carrots to put in a stew for dinner. I sipped coffee while I worked, stifling a yawn. I'd had trouble sleeping the previous night. Ruby stayed with me, and she had been restless, tossing and turning throughout, unable to ease her discomfort.

I watched Ruby as she wash and cut the potatoes, humming happily as she stared out the kitchen window. She was beautiful on a normal day, but pregnancy had really emphasized her beauty, creating a soft glow in her skin and accentuating her curves in a way that made her even more attractive. I wondered how I could get so lucky as to have her in my life.

All of a sudden, Ruby dropped the spud she was washing, causing a loud commotion that pulled me from my reverie. I glanced up to see her hunched over the porcelain sink, her face out of my view.

"Ruby?" I asked, setting down my knife and running to her side. "What is it?"

She remained bent over, her hands on her back and her face scrunched. "The baby," she said, sucking in a deep breath. "It's time for the baby."

I stared at her for a long moment, unsure what to do. "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's get you to the doctor."

"No," she muttered through clenched teeth. "No doctor."

She let out a deep breath and straightened up, her face smoothing out and returning to normal as the contraction came to an end. She took in my crazed expression and put a consoling hand on my shoulder.

"I know you're scared, Mia. But we can't go to the doctor. Not if we're trying to keep this a secret," she said, taking several deep breaths as the next contraction began. "We will have to deliver the baby here."

I gaped at her for a moment as if she'd spoken in tongues. "I can't do that, Ruby," I said, my voice grave. "I'm not a doctor."

"You are today," she said, groaning as another contraction caused her to double over in pain. I glanced down to see liquid pooling at Ruby's feet and realized that her water had broken.

I rubbed her back awkwardly, unsure what I could do to take away her pain. When the contraction ended, she straightened up and turned to face me. A sheen of sweat had already formed on her forehead.

"You can do this, Mia," she said, grasping my hand in hers. "For the most part, babies basically deliver themselves."

"Okay," I whispered. I was terrified and still felt we should go to the doctor, but Ruby had more experience here and was the one enduring the pain of childbirth. If she said staying home was for the best, then I needed to listen to her.

"Help me upstairs," she said, gripping my hand for support. I led her to my bedroom, helped her into an old nightgown, and eased her onto the bed, before gathering a bowl of boiling water, ice cubes, and as many towels as I could find.

When I returned to the room, Ruby was in the middle of another contraction. I set the water and towels on the bedside table and went to her side.

"What can I do?" I murmured.

She sucked in a gulp of air and let it out slowly. "For now, just hold my hand," she requested.

Ruby continued with contractions on and off for the next few hours with nothing to mitigate the pain. Her agony intensified with each hour until she was moaning into the pillows, mumbling incoherently, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. When I wasn't feeding her ice chips or rubbing her back, I hoovered over her, unsure what I could do or how I could ease her pain.

"Help me sit up," Ruby mumbled, her voice strained.

I eased several pillows behind her back until she was propped up. Another contraction hit and she groaned, unable to speak. She kicked off the blanket and gestured for me to stand before her. I did as she requested, carefully disguising my face so she wouldn't see my horror at the sight before me.

With a loud grunt, Ruby sat forward and began pushing. I saw a small head of hair, then a shoulder.

"You're doing great, Ruby," I said, amazed by the little creature before me. "You're almost there."

Ruby pushed a couple more times until she'd pushed the baby out. I caught it and gave a few pats on their back, just like I'd read about in books. I smiled as I stared at the small, warm body, pink all over, covered with afterbirth, and was met with the high-pitched cry of the newborn baby. Tears pooled in my eyes because there, crying in my hands, was a beautiful baby girl.