Kat’s labor began on a rainy, autumn afternoon. The doctor was summoned, and the maids saw to every preparation according to previous instructions. Then all they could do was wait. For the first few hours, Kat’s pains were not terribly severe, and she had time between each one to relax and take deep breaths according to the doctor’s instructions. Henry sat next to her and held her hand, trying to remain positive, talking about how wonderful it would be to have a baby in their lives and teasing her about ridiculous names they might give the child, which would always make her smile. Amala and Viola were also nearby, offering support but allowing Henry his moments of privacy with his wife. But as Kat’s pains became more intense and closer together, Henry was sent away—as he’d been forewarned would happen—to wait downstairs with Oliver and Paulina. While a part of him longed to remain with Kat, he couldn’t deny his relief in not having to be in the room and witness her suffering, wondering if something awful might happen and she might not even come through alive. He was well aware that even women without cancer sometimes didn’t survive childbirth, and the very idea made him ill. He had accepted it was a possibility that he’d shared his final communication with Kat in this world, but he didn’t think he could bear to be present and witness whatever might be happening.