Hestia opened her eyes to find her mother standing in the door. Ever since Healer Smith had put her under, she’d stayed quiet and still, zapped of all energy as she allowed the healers to tend to her wounds. Already, she was feeling better, even if the effects of the potion still made her groggy. It wasn’t as if they would let her do anything if she wasn’t, so she wasted no time being bitter over the fact. Instead, she blinked herself into consciousness and propped herself up against her pillows.
“Come again?”
“I said you were right,” Mrs. Jones repeated, her smile nearly eliminating the bags layered beneath her eyes. “Ten fingers and ten toes. They’re all there. You were right.”
And suddenly, as if realizing it for the first time, Hestia remembered--
“The baby.”
“Would you like to meet her?”
Her. So Mafalda had been right about her subconscious prediction. Before, there had been thoughts of worry, of distress, as Hestia had realized how much there was to do to pave the way for this child. But now, as Mrs. Jones wheeled in a pink bassinet with the words Baby Girl Jones printed on the front, Hestia only felt complete and utter elation.
“I want to hold her. Please.”
As Mrs. Jones carried her granddaughter over, Hestia took inventory of everything. Ten little fingers, ten perfect toes, and a bright pink nose, all swaddled in a quilt of lavender and rose. How she managed to keep track of it all with her heart beating so loudly in her ears, Hestia could never know. The baby found her way into Hestia’s waiting arms; arms that vowed immediately to never let go. The guilt she had felt for missing her daughter’s first breaths all but evaporated as she stared into the sleeping child’s doll-like face.
“She’s beautiful,” Hestia whispered in awe, surprised she could manage that much as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. And she was. Every feature was sculpted after Hestia’s, petite and fairy-like in nature. Hestia ran her hand over her head, mesmerized by the silky tresses of dark brown that already covered it in abundance. “She’s completely all right?”
“Completely,” said Mrs. Jones, kissing the top of Hestia’s head. “You did wonderfully, darling. She’s precious.”
Miraculous was more like it, Hestia thought, for it was impossible to do anything but smile in the presence of this little wonder. If she had tried to count the number of troubles waiting for her at the exit of St. Mungo’s, Hestia would have spent the whole day making a list. And yet, with her daughter safely wrapped up her arms, everything else seemed so very small.
“Let me get you some more of that potion,” Mrs. Jones said suddenly, moving towards the door. “I can find Healer Smith, and---”
“Don’t bother, mum.”
“Are you sure?”
"Yes,” Hestia nodded with a chuckle, “I’m fine.” She kissed the top of her baby’s head gently. “I’ve got everything I need right here.” And for the first time in months that she could remember, Hestia meant every word. “I’ve got nothing to complain about now that the whole world’s in my arms.”
