Renny took it and faced Ashleen, sketching her a bow with most admirable solemnity. "Your most royal highness, princess of the fairies, may I present you this most majestical prince?"
Ashleen resisted the urge to catch both Renny and Liam in her arms and give in to the torrent of tears that the stress of waiting for the nuns' decision had built within her.
Instead she dropped into her most graceful curtsy, her voice a properly awed whisper. "My prince, I have been waiting a lifetime for you."
"Give me back my sash," Shevonne's voice intruded. "It's a silly game anyway. Nuns can't get married. Sister Ash—"
"Sister Ash isn't a real nun yet," Liam objected. "That's why Sister Bridget looks all sour when we call her Sister. And anyway, this is just pretend. You spoil everything, Shevonne."
"Do not! It is a silly game, and you're a—"
"Hush, children!" Ashleen snapped, her gaze locking upon a solitary dark-robed figure making its way up the path to the glen. Her hands clenched together in a desperate prayer.Please, God... please...
The children's silence closed about her, and she glanced at their faces, suddenly so still, their eyes questioning.
"I—I have to run back and speak with Sister Agatha now." Ash attempted to feign a lightness she did not feel.
"Why?” Lian asked. “Did... did we do something wrong?" Why did she feel so guilty as she looked into his trusting face?
"No. It's nothing like that. Sister Magdalene is coming to watch you, so you may keep playing."
Renny glanced from the approaching figure to Meggie, who was making a circle with her stones. "I'm a bit tired. I think I'll... just sit for a little." He slid down beside the little girl, a protective light in his eyes.
"You... rest then," Ash said with a grateful smile. "I'll be back as quickly as I can."
"An' then I get to be dragon," Liam piped up.
"Then you get to be dragon."
Ash swallowed hard, remembering the motley group the children had made when she had brought them together a year ago. Renny belligerent, his fists ever flying, Liam constantly weeping for the parents he had lost, Shevonne whining even more gratingly than she had today, and Meggie... They had all been determined to wall out the others, yet somehow during the past months they had let go of their defenses enough to become something akin to... to a family, she thought. Trusting one another, depending, however reluctantly, upon one another. Even protecting one another—bristling at any, save themselves, who dared cast aspersions upon one of their number.
And they would never lose that, never be alone again, Ash promised herself.
She hastened down the winding dirt road, her eyes fixed upon Sister Magdalene. The face that had been apple-round and rosy when first Ashleen had come to St. Michael's was gaunt now, gray, testament to the hardship the great hunger had wreaked upon even those within the convent's sheltering walls. Thin fingers were gripping the rosary beads that hung at the nun's waist. But it was Sister Magdalene's eyes that sent dread scrambling through Ash.
"Sister"—Ash fought to steady her voice—"have they—"
"You are to go to Sister Agatha at once, Mary Ashleen." Was there sorrow in the woman's voice, or just the reflection of Ashleen's greatest fear?
"What... what did they... decide? Please, you must tell me."
"They struggled to discover God's will. 'Tis difficult sometimes." Magdalene gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Quickly now."
Ash nodded, prayers and promises roiling inside her as she scooped up her skirts and ran toward the convent gates.
* * *
The statue had stoodwithin the tiny chamber for two hundred years, the face of Christ's own mother serene as she turned her gaze to the heavens, despite the sufferings of the people below.
Always there had been something gentle in those carved features, something comforting to Ashleen's restless spirit. Yet now the statue seemed to mock her with its sorrowful acceptance, its sweet, sad smile doing nothing to soften Ashleen’s despair.
"Please," Ash choked out, her gaze seeking out resigned, rheumy eyes in a face lined with a thousand sorrows. "Sister Agatha, there must be something we can do. Some way we can save them. They're just children... so small. Helpless." Her voice trembled, faded to a whisper. "They're so alone. I cannot believe you are willing to abandon them."
"Ashleen, child, it's hardly as if we were drowning them like a litter of unwanted pups." The nun raised hands gnarled as aged oak to the edge of her wimple. "We've done everything we can. Sheltered them, fed them for nigh on a year now." Ash started to speak, but the older woman lifted a finger to stay her. "'Tis glad I am that you gathered these wee ones together. That you made us see their need. God will bless you a thousandfold for what you have done. And the way you have loved them—their own poor dead mothers could not have given more of their hearts."
The flaccid skin webbing the old woman's throat shook as she swallowed. "Sister Magdelene, Sister Bridget, and I have left no stone unturned in our efforts to find families willing to adopt your foundlings these past months."
Ash grasped at the words, desperate, her eyes widening with a wild, faint hope. "I know how hard you've tried. But we've managed to place so many of the children. I'm certain if we are patient—if we have faith, we'll be able to find homes for the rest."
