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nuns would tell John where they’d all gone when he arrived back— if he arrived—but a lot could happen between Oxford and the coast of Ireland.
    â€œSure Sarah is tougher than all of us,” Fiona said. “She’ll sort it out.”
    Now that they were free of the woods, Fiona could feel the warmth of the sun shining down on them. It felt good on her back through her jacket. They’d brought all the wool blankets they could carry and the four wagons were full of babies and children tucked warmly within.
    â€œIt’s heartbreaking, so it is, to hear that baby cry every time Sarah touches it, and she its own mother,” Nuala said.
    â€œNow Nuala O’Connell, I’ll not have you gossiping about Sarah, so mind your tongue.”
    â€œWhisht, it’s just what everyone’s saying.”
    â€œI don’t care what they’re saying. I don’t have to hear it.” Fiona knew she was being sharper than she needed to be. Nuala’s hurt silence told her that. Of course Fiona knew what people were saying. Hadn’t she seen the very same thing over and over again with her own eyes? Something was wrong with Sarah and even her little lass sensed it.
    Fiona clucked to the horses and brought them into a trot. The pastures on both sides of the road were brown and barren as they passed.
    But whatever was wrong, Fiona could only pray it wasn’t because Sarah was right about not leaving.

7
    T he pastures they passed were bleak and colorless. Sarah remembered picking sloe berries near here at the beginning of summer. She could hear Liddy and Mary laughing together in the back of the wagon.
    After what those two endured last winter, it was a miracle they could ever laugh again, Sarah thought. They were sisters, and close. Both had given birth to babies of rape and Liddy had lost her husband because he couldn’t deal with it all.
    And yet there they were, tweaking their babies’ cheeks and giggling over nonsense as if the world hadn’t erupted last winter and swallowed them up, changing their lives forever. So many of the other women rescued from the rape camp had similar experiences—and yet today here they were looking forward to their new home with excitement and anticipation.
    How was that possible?
    Many of the rescued women were without husbands. Mike had taken it upon himself to look after the ones who had children and had encouraged Sarah and Fiona to reach out to the childless women. There were fourteen women and thirteen children and babies. And only six men.
    Twenty in total. Not an unwieldy number as communities went. A little unbalanced, unfortunately, gender wise. It wasn’t just that the men were stronger and could do a longer day’s work, but most of the women had newborn babies at their breasts.
    The word vulnerable came to mind, Sarah thought grimly.
    It had only been three weeks since they’d last visited the compound. The day John had flown away to Oxford. As Sarah drove her wagon to line up with the others, she felt a shiver slide down her spine at the memory. She shook the feeling away. She knew she’d relive that day when she saw the compound again and she was determined not to dwell on it.
    John was gone. He’d be back at Christmas. If not sooner. Oxford wasn’t that far from the Irish coast. Even if he’s on foot. But if he can manage to get his hands on a horse, he could already be at the coast—
    â€œAll right then, Sarah?”
    She looked up to see Mike trot over on his big bay. They hadn’t spoken much in the days of preparation for the trip and she was surprised to see him now. The men and some of the women were already dragging supplies out the front gate of the compound
    â€œFine,” she said but couldn’t force a smile. He’s getting what he wants . He doesn’t get the cherry on top too.
    Mike came alongside the wagon. Sophia sat next to Sarah with her newborn in her arms.