But it’s my second night of no sleep, and my eyelids betray me. Suddenly I’m not in the shack anymore. Somehow, I am sitting before a fireplace with Damien, our fingers entwined. He is smiling that smile at me, the one that says he loves me. I hear the flames crackle, and I see his mouth move, but I cannot hear what he’s saying. I laugh and tell him that I thought he’d died, and he laughs as well, for sure I’m a fool, for here he is after all! I lean my head against his shoulder, but he’s gone. My cheek rests against a wall.
He was never here. I keep my eyes closed, hoping to bring him back.
But smoke from the fireplace still tickles through my nose, and ’tis then I see I am no longer dreaming. I catch a faint glow flickering on the ceiling. I wrap Mary’s blanket tightly around her and set her on the floor in the corner so I can go and see out the window.
Holy Mother of God! The long, dry grass is aflame, lighting the night and licking toward the shack from all sides. Smoke whispers through cracks in the shack’s wooden walls. Behind me, Mary sleeps undisturbed, a little white bundle snugged against the wall.
It comes to me clear as day. ’Tis no bit of bad luck, this fire. Oh, sweet Jesus. What have I done? ’Tis surely the divil himself come to punish me for all my sins: the lies I told, the money I took, the blood I’ve seen spilled that I never told a soul about. Granny said the divil comes for the guilty, and here he is. I grab for my rosary, though I rarely remember to carry it, and when it is not there, I grab the key dangling from my neck instead. I cross myself over and over with hands that shake, and I drop to my knees in the growing heat.
Holy Mother, I beg you to preserve the child and take me instead. She’sdone no wrong. ’Tis me has done it all. ’Tis me who deserves your wrath. Please God—
Then there’s a crash as the corner of the roof caves in, and Mary is gone.
I scream her name, clawing with blistering fingers through the fallen, smouldering boards like a madwoman, desperate for the sight of her white blanket in all the darkness. My lungs are burning, every gasp a knife, and I am seized by a coughing fit that doubles me over. Holy Mother of God. What have I done? I heave for air, then I hear her terrified cry, and I nearly weep at the sound.
I fell asleep!What kind of mother sleeps while the divil comes, putting her tiny baby in danger, all in the name of catching a little sleep?
She is untouched but furious when I finally reach her and draw her out. The rafters fell in a perfect protective roof over her, as if God himself placed them by hand. I drag her out, sobbing and apologizing and praying,Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, forgive me! Forgive me!all the while crossing myself. I hug her to me, then I stagger to the door and kick it open, where I’m met by a wall of fire. I feel it scorch my skin, and I layer the blanket over Mary best as I can. Behind us, the shack groans, and sparks rain down from the fallen roof. The fire is all around us now, like a prison. Mary’s screams rise with mine, and my heart breaks as I realize:This is it. The divil has come for me, and he’ll take my innocent girl with him as well.I feel the pressure building behind me as well as in front. Mary is in full voice now, adding to my panic, for I cannot find a way out of this. We are going to die.
But she is baptized, I realize with frantic gratitude. Dear God, at least my sweet angel is baptized.
chapterTHIRTY-NINE
It should have been me who died, not Damien. He would have known how to keep our Mary safe. He would have been a strong, smart parent. Not me. From the start I was too weak to even feed her, then the man in black, then the fire… Mary near burned to death with me. ’Tis only by the grace of God that she’s still alive. Oh, I have put my baby’s life at risk too many times. I am a poor mother. I’m broken and fearful, and I cannot promise her the most basic of things, like food, a roof, or peace of mind. And that is how it forever will be, looking over my shoulder, waiting for the divil’s bony hands on my neck.
The good Lord saw fit to give us another day after I dashed through the flames with Mary’s blanket over us, but I know the truth now. I cannot do this. I am breaking apart, torn between my boundless love for this little girl and knowing I cannot offer her anything but a life of running and hiding. Can I do better? Christ help me. I don’t know how.
The firemen arrive seconds after Mary and I escape the shack. Had I paused to utter one more prayer, one more doubt, we’d be ashes now.
Dazed, I walk back into town, clutching Mary to my heart. Her blanket, her hair, her skin, it all smells like smoke, as do I. I pass the hotel, the market,then reach the church. Father Charles will know what to do. Up the stone steps I climb, then inside the church where the air is cool and calm, rich with the scents of candle wax, faded incense, and stone. I make for the front pew, where I sit and hold Mary tight, as if she might slip from this world if I let go.
A priest approaches, and he tells me Father Charles is gone for the night. He wants to help, but no. It cannot be him. I only want Father Charles. I remember the day he baptized her, and that little smile when her tiny fingers wrapped around his. Only Father Charles will understand what I need.
Mary is asleep in my arms, warm against my chest. God help me, when I look at her, the love I feel is overwhelming. As I have a thousand times, I lose myself in the perfection of her soft lips, the pale eyelashes on her cheeks. Lashes just like her father’s. She stirs, and her little fist brushes my breast, so soft, so trusting.
“You’re all I have,” I whisper.
But I cannot promise to fill her belly as she grows. I cannot promise to keep her safe from villains like Carboni. I cannot promise her anything but my love, and that is not enough.
Carboni wants me, and now his man knows where I am. The police want me in jail for a murder I did not commit. If none of these men can find me, might they come after Mary? Might they hurt her to get to me? My arms tighten around the baby without meaning to, and my jaw clenches. I will kill anyone who lays a hand on her.
She makes a little sigh and smacks her lips, and I kiss her soft brow. It wrinkles quick, then settles once more. “Shall we keep running, Mary? Maybe if we go far, far away, we’ll be grand.”
But sure, even I don’t believe that. No matter how we run, whether ’tis a bus or train, I will never be enough, will I? I’ll be watching over my shoulder ’til the divil grows weary of the chase.
She is all that matters. I am nothing.
My eyes are gritty from the smoke, and now my shameful tears scald them. I’ve always tried to be good, I have. I’ve tried to do what is right. I thought if I could find success, life would get easier. I’ve no illusions anymore.I never meant to love Damien. I never wanted Mrs. Evans to die. But it happened, and now they’re both dead. Them and Bianca and Granny, and even my da, probably. None of it was my fault, but it clings to me like a curse. In turn, that curse will hold on to Mary. That is not right.
“I am failing you,” I whisper. It hurts so much. Mary does not hear me through her soft, sleeping breaths. She is at peace, and I wonder if she is dreaming. Does she have dreams yet?
My gaze rises to the altar, glowing red from the sanctuary lamp.
“My Lord, I am lost. Tell me what to do,” I whisper.
The Lord does not answer. Nothing happens. The candles do not even flicker. I look down at the angel in my arms.
“You won’t remember me.”
