After the outburst from Shay, Mary was walked home by Liam as Achilles paced furiously in his office, venting his anger to Hope who mostly snarled whenever the Irishman's name was mentioned. Eleanor invited Liam in when they reached their destination, but he politely declined. Mary could see by the man's anxious expression that he anticipated something. Something dangerous.

"Now, Mary," Eleanor turned to her daughter as Liam left, "have you hidden Anne's present like I asked you to?"

"Yes, Mama," the young girl giggled, "I hid it in my room. I thought of putting it in the broom cupboard, as she never goes in there!"

"Oh, don't be cruel, Mary," Eleanor took her daughter's coat and hung it up on the pegs by the door. However, she couldn't argue. Despite all the chores she'd been set, Anne managed to worm her way out of half of them.

The mother and daughter joined Anne in the sitting room, the evening before her fourteenth birthday. On the table was the family Bible, passed down from mother to daughter through the years. Eleanor had attempted to strike the fear of God in her eldest to make her more obedient but no such luck.

Eleanor sighed. She missed Edward so much.

For a gentle, kindly man, he could keep his children in order. He had a quiet authority about him that made the girls do what they were told.

"Right, Anne, where were we?" Her mother asked, seating herself down.

"Acts Twenty Seven." Anne replied, her voice tired.

"Good. Mary, will you read?"

The youngest nodded and as her eyes scanned ahead, she glanced up, exclaiming; "look, Anne! It's about a ship! Like a ship Papa's on!"

"Lord, I hope not," Eleanor frowned, "read on, see what happens."

Mary continued on, her young, sweet voice a vast juxtaposition to the tempestuous winds described in the chapter and the destruction of the ship the notable man Paul sailed on. Soon, Anne drifted off, whether due to the relaxing tone of her sister's voice or the adventurous outings she'd had didn't matter to her mother.

"Anne!" She snapped, causing the girl to jolt awake.

"Ah, sorry, Mama, it's just... It's quite boring really."

"You'd better pray for forgiveness," Eleanor scolded, "I don't think God's too pleased on your present behaviour or you disrespecting His word. Whether it's your birthday tomorrow or not, He'll reprimand you in any way he sees fit. Now, off to our room."

Anne, now dismissed, dragged herself up the stairs to bed and fell asleep practically as soon as her head hit the pillow. Mary left for her bed, shortly after finishing Acts 28 with her mother. Eleanor stayed for a while longer. She knew many people who didn't find the need for God in their lives anymore but she was never without faith. With her husband gone, she needed someone to talk to, someone to ask for help, for support. Many nights, Eleanor prayed alone in the dark by her empty bed, praying for Edward's safe return. She lived in fear of Achilles arriving at the door, his eyes averted, offering condolences and informing her of the loss of her husband.

Fortunately, that day had not yet come. But still, she prayed.

"Lord, watch over him," she whispered, her eyes shut and her hands clasped together, "bring him home. In Jesus' name, Amen."

It was a simple prayer, but from her innermost being, her deepest wish was for her husband to be safe. Her words were quiet but strong. Soft, but full of power.

She stood, a hand to her heart as she ascended the stairs, off to her lonely, cold bed.

Climbing under the sheets, she shivered in the cold. The moonlight washed over the room as she hadn't bothered to draw the curtains, often, she found the light a comfort in her loneliness. She felt as if it were God's torch, shining on her, telling her she wasn't alone.

Just as she began to drift off, a noise like a thunder clap rumbled through the sky. Eleanor sat up, eyes wide as she saw the explosions of mortar fire in the distance.

Anne and Mary, panicked by the sounds, rushed to join their mother, clutching her as they watched the morbid spectacle, a brutal fireworks display. She stroked their hair, calming them as they continued to stare, unable to tear their eyes from the window, unable to block out the sounds.

"Oh, Anne," Mary said in a hushed voice, "I think you've made God really mad..."