Chapter 10
Journey Through the Gale
Clutching the statue tightly, Angela slips out into the raging storm. The wind whips around her, and snow stings her face, but her determination to save Aggie fuels her difficult journey.
The wind howled like a hungry wolf at the door, rattling the very bones of their small house. Snow, thick and furious, hammered against the windowpanes, each flake a tiny, icy fist. Inside, huddled by the dying embers of the fire, Angela felt a tremor of fear, not just for the storm, but for the precious, cold bundle tucked beneath her shawl. Aggie’s cough, a shallow, rasping sound, was a constant, painful reminder of why she had to do this.
Mother had finally fallen into a restless sleep in the chair by Aggie’s bedside, her face etched with worry. Pat and Tom, bundled in their blankets on the floor, breathed softly, oblivious to the brave, desperate mission unfolding in the heart of their eldest sister. Angela’s heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had to return Him. She had to beg for forgiveness. She had to save Aggie.
With trembling fingers, Angela loosened the shawl. The little Infant Jesus lay nestled there, His painted eyes seeming to stare up at her, His outstretched arms a silent plea. He felt so small, so vulnerable, just like Aggie. She whispered to Him, her voice barely audible above the roar of the gale, “We have to go, little one. We have to go home.”
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