Chapters (103)
- Cover
- ALSO BY BIANCA MARAIS
- Dedication
- Map
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
- CHAPTER NINETY
- CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
- CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
- CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
- CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- GLOSSARY OF TERMS
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
What a cruel twist of fate that the first time I saw my son was just after I’d given him life, and the next was almost thirty-nine years later when he was fighting so hard to cling to it. I could never have foreseen that, nor that it would be Father Thomas—the very man I’d so desperately loved and who’d cast me out—who’d be the priest praying at my son’s bedside, standing between us once again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ruth
11 May 1994
Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa
The baby is asleep between us on the couch as Dee stammers her way through the story. She’s gotten back into her pajamas even though it’s almost midday and she pulls her ratty old gown tightly around herself.
She’s too thin, but then she’s always been lean whereas I’m voluptuous.
Voluptuous.
The word conjures an image like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat: Dee in her wedding dress during her novice reception ceremony. How stupid I was. She wasn’t fat, she was pregnant.
The thought enrages me, as does the knowledge that she gave the child up. “Why didn’t you just leave the convent and come home with the baby?”
“You say it like it would have been the easiest thing in the world. It was 1955, Ruth. Unwed Catholic mothers weren’t allowed to keep their babies then. Their little ‘bastards’ were sent to orphanages, and those who weren’t lucky enough to be adopted were raised in terrible conditions.” She gazes off, eyes unfocused, and then startles me with a humorless laugh. “And could you imagine what that would have done to Ma? My leaving to become a nun and coming back unmarried with a baby when I was eighteen? God, it would have killed her.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Letting them keep Daniel and raise him was the best solution for everyone. I did what was best for him.”
Jezebel suddenly gets up from where she’s lying on the floor and pads over to the baby to nuzzle his face. He squints and looks like he’s going to wake up. “Jezebel, no!” Dee flinches as though I’ve slapped her. “What? I don’t want her waking him.”
“You’ve named the dog Jezebel?”
“Yes, so what? Does it offend your sensibilities? It’s just a funny name.” I don’t let her get a word in. I’m not in a mood for a lecture about respecting the Bible, not today of all days when my holier-than-thou sister has been revealed to be nothing but a hypocrite. “So, how did you get the church to not tell Ma and Da?”