her arms, not the passage of time or even death itself.
She had prayed for a very long time but she wasn’t sure if God or the angels could hear her prayers from Hell. It didn’t stop her from trying. Eventually, though, she ran out of ways to plead for help, to beg for an end to this nightmare. At first, she lay there with her mind so wounded and eviscerated she was certain she would never think again. All she would ever be able to hear were his tortured screams, and that was a sound that would be permanently etched in her mind.
But gradually, an image, another dream or a memory, she still wasn’t sure what was reality in this place, started shuffling through those dark corners of her own pain and personal suffering, and when she recognized him, she grabbed onto it, and held on as tightly as she could. Part of her understood it was a pattern now: a happy, comforting dream replaced by a terrifying nightmare, but he was there in her mind, so young and so healthy and so free from this suffering.
She didn’t really know him yet. When he showed up at her house after meeting her near the market where she’d gone to buy a ham hock to make soup, she was surprised he’d come after all. He was so nervous as he stood in her doorway, trying not to fidget or shuffle his feet as he asked her mother if he could visit her. Anna peeked around the door in the kitchen, holding her breath for her mother’s response. He was poor and he was Irish , which meant he was Catholic , and Anna knew those were all reasons for her mother to send him away. He was a handsome boy, with light brown hair and eyes so green they sparkled like emeralds, and even then, he was tall and strong, although he’d grow another six inches by the time he reached adulthood.
Irish or not, nobody else was coming for Anna, and her mother knew that. Nobody wanted a sickly wife. Anna listened to her mother sigh and invite Colin in, and he stepped inside her home. Anna hurried to the stove and started the fire under the teakettle. She was sixteen, and she went through long stretches of time where she was confined to her home, so she knew how to be a good hostess.
She opened the pantry and found the biscuits she’d made the day before and set them on the table. She listened as her mother asked Colin how he’d ended up in London, and if he’d come here alone. Anna already knew the answers to those questions. She’d spent as much time as she could talking to him in the market the day before.
She crept as close to the door as she dared without her mother knowing she was eavesdropping so she could listen to him anyway. She thought Colin was the most beautiful boy she’d ever met, and she loved his accent. She’d met plenty of Irishmen before, and never thought much of their speech, but from him, it was charming and endearing and she could have listened to him speak all afternoon.
He was explaining how he’d moved here recently after the death of his father. His father was a sharecropper and he didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to learn a trade, to do something besides owe a landlord for the rest of his life. His two older brothers had stayed behind in Ireland and were farmers.
“And are you apprenticed?” her mother asked.
“Yes, Madam, with Mister Wrightson.”
“The printer?” her mother sounded impressed. Anna smiled. Colin was quite smart, actually. He could read and write; no one else in his family had been able to. When he was seven, his village had gotten a new priest, and he found out this one was actually literate and he’d gone to him, this small boy with vivid green eyes, and implored him to teach him to read. Colin even knew some Latin now.
But Colin would never brag. “Yes, Madam. I help him with the press and binding.”
“Well, that’s impressive, Mister O’Conner. You’re living with Madam Cooper?”
Colin acknowledged he’d rented a room from her. The teakettle started whistling and Anna rushed to the stove to
She had prayed for a very long time but she wasn’t sure if God or the angels could hear her prayers from Hell. It didn’t stop her from trying. Eventually, though, she ran out of ways to plead for help, to beg for an end to this nightmare. At first, she lay there with her mind so wounded and eviscerated she was certain she would never think again. All she would ever be able to hear were his tortured screams, and that was a sound that would be permanently etched in her mind.
But gradually, an image, another dream or a memory, she still wasn’t sure what was reality in this place, started shuffling through those dark corners of her own pain and personal suffering, and when she recognized him, she grabbed onto it, and held on as tightly as she could. Part of her understood it was a pattern now: a happy, comforting dream replaced by a terrifying nightmare, but he was there in her mind, so young and so healthy and so free from this suffering.
She didn’t really know him yet. When he showed up at her house after meeting her near the market where she’d gone to buy a ham hock to make soup, she was surprised he’d come after all. He was so nervous as he stood in her doorway, trying not to fidget or shuffle his feet as he asked her mother if he could visit her. Anna peeked around the door in the kitchen, holding her breath for her mother’s response. He was poor and he was Irish , which meant he was Catholic , and Anna knew those were all reasons for her mother to send him away. He was a handsome boy, with light brown hair and eyes so green they sparkled like emeralds, and even then, he was tall and strong, although he’d grow another six inches by the time he reached adulthood.
Irish or not, nobody else was coming for Anna, and her mother knew that. Nobody wanted a sickly wife. Anna listened to her mother sigh and invite Colin in, and he stepped inside her home. Anna hurried to the stove and started the fire under the teakettle. She was sixteen, and she went through long stretches of time where she was confined to her home, so she knew how to be a good hostess.
She opened the pantry and found the biscuits she’d made the day before and set them on the table. She listened as her mother asked Colin how he’d ended up in London, and if he’d come here alone. Anna already knew the answers to those questions. She’d spent as much time as she could talking to him in the market the day before.
She crept as close to the door as she dared without her mother knowing she was eavesdropping so she could listen to him anyway. She thought Colin was the most beautiful boy she’d ever met, and she loved his accent. She’d met plenty of Irishmen before, and never thought much of their speech, but from him, it was charming and endearing and she could have listened to him speak all afternoon.
He was explaining how he’d moved here recently after the death of his father. His father was a sharecropper and he didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to learn a trade, to do something besides owe a landlord for the rest of his life. His two older brothers had stayed behind in Ireland and were farmers.
“And are you apprenticed?” her mother asked.
“Yes, Madam, with Mister Wrightson.”
“The printer?” her mother sounded impressed. Anna smiled. Colin was quite smart, actually. He could read and write; no one else in his family had been able to. When he was seven, his village had gotten a new priest, and he found out this one was actually literate and he’d gone to him, this small boy with vivid green eyes, and implored him to teach him to read. Colin even knew some Latin now.
But Colin would never brag. “Yes, Madam. I help him with the press and binding.”
“Well, that’s impressive, Mister O’Conner. You’re living with Madam Cooper?”
Colin acknowledged he’d rented a room from her. The teakettle started whistling and Anna rushed to the stove to
Similar Books
