Chapter 12
The Storm Subsides
As Angela makes her way home, the storm begins to abate. The wind softens, and the snow lessens. A glimmer of hope appears in the lightening sky, mirroring her own fragile hope.
The wind, which had howled like a banshee, began to sigh, a weary sound that settled over Limerick like a damp wool blanket. Angela, her heart still thrumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs, stumbled onward, her small boots crunching on the thinning snow. Each gust that had threatened to snatch the precious bundle from her arms now seemed gentler, a whisper urging her home. The icy sting on her cheeks softened, and the thick, swirling white began to break apart, revealing patches of bruised, grey sky. It was as if the very heavens, having unleashed their fury, were now catching their breath.
She clutched the bundle tighter, the rough wool of the Infant Jesus’s swaddling cloth a familiar comfort against her cold fingers. The weight of Him, so small and yet so enormous in her mind, felt less like a stolen treasure and more like a sacred trust. Every step was a prayer, every breath a plea for forgiveness and for Aggie. The thought of her little sister, her small chest heaving with each labored breath, was a sharp ache that propelled Angela forward. She imagined Aggie’s pale face, her eyes closed, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Had her impetuous act truly brought this on?
The journey back felt longer, each corner turned a fresh anticipation of what awaited her. Would Mother be frantic? Would Pat and Tom be demanding to know where she’d been? The secret, which had felt so heavy in the church and so perilous on the streets, now felt like a fragile bird cupped in her hands, something to be protected at all costs. She imagined the relief that would flood her mother’s face if Aggie were to stir, to smile, to be well again. And with that image, a tiny seed of hope, like a stubborn weed pushing through a frozen pavement, began to sprout within her.
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