Grace tasted the pot of soup, and paused thoughtfully, before she added a bit more salt. She had fully recovered, although her memory had not returned. She experienced occasional flashes, but none of it made any sense: a blond-haired boy holding up a fish, a hill with stones marking it, an Indian couple with a baby smiling and herself at the rise of a hill looking out, waiting for something; for someone. And always the blurry image of someone very tall, looming over her - no matter how hard she tried to remember the face never became clear, and her memory never seemed to improve. Recently, words had begun to drift into her mind, but they made no sense. Ta gra agam duit. She had finally said them aloud, and Sister Adelaide said, "That's Irish. I can't remember what it means, but I know it is Irish. Sister Josephine will know."
"It means I love you. Perhaps you are Irish. You say it perfectly. I've never known anyone say it perfectly that wasn't born speaking it. Real Irish is no easy thing to learn." Sister Josephine had told her.
"Does it make you remember anything?" Sister Beatrice asked hopefully.
"No, it doesn't." Grace sighed.
"Well, whatever your previous life was, your cooking must be missed. We've never had a cook like you!" Sister Elias said.
"Perhaps you worked as a cook somewhere." Sister Beatrice said.
"I don't know. It is odd isn't it? I can remember all these recipes, but I can't remember my own name." Grace sighed. "I wish I could."
"We will continue to pray for your complete recovery." Sister Adelaide said softly. "He knows best."
"God watches over us all." Grace said thoughtfully.
"That is true." Sister Beatrice agreed, but seeing the look on Grace's face she asked, "What is it?"
"I don't know. There's something familiar at the back of my mind, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I feel like I've had this talk before; said these words before. Oh, well. I better finish up this soup. Hungry folks are waiting." She smiled and turned back to the pot, but something continued to tug at the corners of her memory.
***DB***
"She's already been here longer than anyone we've ever brought." Sister Elias said.
"Where would we send her? She doesn't even know her own name!" Sister Beatrice argued protectively.
"I understand your attachment, but we cannot keep her here forever. She is not a member of our order." Sister Elias continued.
"But she works faithfully and is very helpful. She knows so much about cooking and caring for the sick. It is beneficial to us to keep her with us." Sister Beatrice said.
Sister Adelaide put a hand on Sister Beatrice's shoulder. "We won't turn her out into the streets. We are only trying to determine what is best for Grace. She believes she was taken, and if that is so, her family must be worried for her. Anyone as loving and trusting as she is, must come from a family that cares deeply for her. We will send the description out again, once more. Perhaps someone will read it this time, and come to us."
"Read it over again, Sister Elias, lets see if there is anything to add." Sister Constantine said.
Found: Female, approximately 35 - 40 years of age, red hair, tall, blue-eyed, thin. Believed to have been taken from her home.
"Add, great cook." Sister Beatrice said and they all nodded. "I'll take it to the printers and have it sent to Salem and the outlying communities. Maybe someone will see it this time. I hate to think of her lost to her family forever."