At her feet, Hazel was smiling her foxy smile. Auburn curls were plastered damply to her forehead, blood splattered on her apron. A naked infant in a blanket in her arms. “A girl.”

“A girl.” Evangeline struggled up on her elbows to see.

Dr. Dunne placed another pillow behind her head and Hazel handed her the featherweight bundle and all at once she was looking into the dark eyes of a baby. Her daughter. Staring at her intensely. Had anyone ever stared at her so intensely?

“Do you have a name?” Hazel asked.

“I didn’t dare to think that far ahead.” Holding the child in the crook of her arm, Evangeline inhaled the yeasty smell of her hair, stroked the tiny mollusk-shell ears and sea anemone fingers. Was that her father’s nose, perhaps?

Hazel motioned to her to open her shift. She guided the baby toward Evangeline’s breast and tapped her bottom lip, prompting her to open her tiny mouth. When the baby latched on, Evangeline felt as if a string had been yanked from her nipple to her gut. “The more she suckles, the faster you’ll heal,” Hazel said.

As Evangeline cupped the infant’s small head, her forefinger found a soft spot in the middle. She looked at the surgeon with surprise.

He smiled. “So the brain can grow. Don’t worry. It will close.”

“So the brain can grow. How could I not have known?” she marveled.

And thought of all the things she had not known.

It was early in the evening in the surgeon’s quarters. The baby was swaddled in a blanket, tucked into the curve of Evangeline’s arm. The surgeon was in the infirmary, attending a sailor with influenza. Hazel sat in a chair with his volume of The Tempest, mouthing words to herself.

Evangeline pointed at the book. “Where are you?”

“‘This rough magic I here ab-abjure, and, when I have . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“‘Required.’ Q-U is like K-W.”

Hazel nodded. “Re-KW-ired. ‘Required some heav-en-ly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses . . .’”

“‘That this airy charm is for.’”

“It’s bloody hard,” Hazel said. “‘Ye taught me language; and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse.’”

Evangeline smiled. “Well done.”

Hazel closed the book. “How d’ye feel?”

“Sore. And it’s so hot. This room is stifling.”

“It’s always hot these days. Even after the rain.”

Evangeline lay back against her pillow. Tossed her head from side to side. “I must get some air.” She glanced down at the sleeping infant. “Before she wakes.”

“You want to go up the ladder now?” Hazel frowned. “The deck will be slippery. And it’s dark.”

“Just for a minute.”

Hazel put down the book. “I’ll come with ye, then.”

“No, stay with her. Please.”

“But ye’ve just—”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. I don’t want her to be alone.” Evangeline swung her legs over the side of the bed, and Hazel helped her to stand. Suddenly lightheaded, she swayed back against the bed.