Chapter 7
A Mother's Concern
Angela’s mother tends to a feverish Aggie. She expresses worry about the harsh weather affecting Aggie's health. Angela feels the weight of guilt, seeing her actions potentially harming her sister.
The wind howled like a banshee outside their small cottage, rattling the windowpanes and sending shivers down Angela’s spine that had nothing to do with the biting cold. Inside, the fire, though stoked with every scrap of turf they possessed, offered little cheer. It flickered weakly, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mock the dim light. Aggie lay in her small cot, her face flushed a dangerous crimson, her breaths shallow and raspy. Mother sat beside her, a damp cloth clutched in her hand, her brow furrowed with a worry that settled deep in Angela’s own heart like a stone.
“Poor lamb,” Mother murmured, her voice thick with a weariness that went beyond mere exhaustion. She smoothed a stray lock of hair from Aggie’s damp forehead. “This dreadful weather, it’s no good for a child with a delicate constitution.”
Angela watched from the doorway, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Delicate constitution. That was Mother’s gentle way of saying Aggie was frail, prone to the coughs and fevers that swept through Limerick like an unwelcome tide. And now, this storm. This relentless, howling storm that seemed to have descended from the heavens with a vengeance. Angela couldn't shake the gnawing fear that it was her fault.
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