Unwanted Girl. MK Schiller

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СКАЧАТЬ frustrated, and tired, she journeyed back to her home. The infant must have sensed her emotions because the crying started again. The cries turned to wails until Nalini stopped at the side of a dirt road that led to her village. She gently rocked the baby, trying to nourish her with words when she had no food to offer.

      “Do not cry. You are a godsend. There are some girls who are blessed and cursed at the same time, and in many ways they are the luckiest because God gave them the strength to face both sides of life. There was another child once. His father and mother were imprisoned because his ruthless uncle, the king, was told through a prophet the eighth child of the couple would kill him and bring peace to the land. The child survived because his father snuck him from the prison and placed him in a basket on the banks of the river. That child was Lord Krishna.”

      The child quieted. “Baby, no need to cry. You have to be brave like Lord Krishna.”

      She looked down at the sleeping infant. What will I do? There are no village families who would take in a child, especially a girl child.

      Then Nalini thought of the school where she worked. More specifically of the young nun with golden hair and eyes the color of emeralds who taught there. Nalini had never conversed with her. She couldn’t since they spoke different languages, but her friendly gestures conveyed the woman was nurturing and sweet. She was a woman of God. Maybe not her Gods…but all paths were pure. Surely, she would help.

      * * * *

      It was Saturday. A day Sister Sarah reserved for reading. The knock on the door of her small cottage surprised her. She prayed it wasn’t another hostile villager threatening her. At the same time, she was in no mood to receive a friendly villager offering gifts of sweets. She feared the former, but was happy to receive the later. Not today, though. Today, she craved solitude. Tomorrow, she’d make the announcement, but today was about coming to terms with her decision to leave her life here.

      She let the first set of knocks go unanswered. They were heavy and urgent, signaling Sarah to be extra cautious. Who would have imagined a school could cause such controversy? Villagers either hated or loved it. Some said it wasn’t appropriate to have white foreigners teaching their children and possibly converting them, while others were grateful their children had an opportunity for education.

      When she heard the woman’s voice call, she finally opened the door. Her spine stiffened at the sight of one of the cleaning ladies cradling a wooden box in her arms. Nalini spoke rapidly in her own tongue, not stopping even when Sarah held up her hand. But when she lifted the lid of the box, Sarah’s heart wrenched at the sight of the tiny baby with a shock of black hair and large brown eyes.

      Sarah, a woman of action herself, set about bathing the baby properly and swaddled her in a clean blanket. She asked her house servant to fetch a translator and a bottle of rice milk. She held the baby, feeding her, while the translator, one of Sarah’s brighter students, sat between the two women. Sarah understood some Hindi, but not the Gujarati dialect Nalini spoke. She controlled the raw emotions of anger, shock, and despair as the interpreter translated Nalini’s explanation.

      She looked down at the sleeping child, suckling a finger. Such a hard start in life. Sarah counted fingers and toes, surprised by how miraculously healthy the baby appeared. A child who had come into their care, much the way Moses had come to the Pharaoh’s daughter along the Nile River after being set afloat by his mother in an effort to save him when the Pharaoh ordered all male Hebrew children should be drowned in the Nile.

      Sarah pointed to the box. “Perhaps someone put her in this vessel to save her.”

      Nalini shook her head slowly. “No one was trying to save her.”

      “No, look,” Sarah said, tapping the lid of the box, clinging to a shred of optimism. She ran her fingers over the small slits over the wooden lid. “Air holes for the child to breathe.”

      Nalini regarded Sarah as if she were a child herself. Sarah’s heart rate increased as the older woman secured the lid back in place and made quick jabbing motions with her hand. Despite the tropical climate, a strong chill ran down her spine as the translator repeated Nalini’s explanation. “They placed the baby in this box and punctured it with a knife several times. The wood is soft enough to yield to a knife, but the blade wasn’t long enough. The sharp end didn’t reach the baby.”

      Sarah choked back a sob, the idea of such brutality almost causing her to wretch. “Why?”

      “Girl,” the older woman said in English. That one word spoke volumes.

      Girls cost money, especially in the form of dowry. There were stories of parents going bankrupt to marry off their daughters. Contrary, boys brought in money and dowry. Sarah, horrified with the violent description, could no longer hold back her cries. She set the child atop a clean pillow. She wept openly and took Nalini’s weathered hand in her own. Nalini appeared surprised by the gesture and tried to withdraw her hand, but Sarah held it tightly.

      “What do we do?” Nalini asked once more.

      “Pray with me.”

      Sarah didn’t have an answer. The school had strict instructions not to get involved with the local residents. Their job was to educate and make the villager’s lives better, but there were directives, and any inappropriate behavior could result in a shut down.

      For these reasons, Sarah decided she would not inform her superiors. They would suggest the orphanage some distance away as a place to deposit the child. It seemed the obvious choice, except it was all wrong. Rumors circulated the children were severely mistreated and even sold into prostitution. There was no proof, but Sarah would not risk it—not when it came to this baby.

      She couldn’t explain it, except that some motherly instinct and responsibility had invaded her body. But what could she do? She was leaving this place, a decision she had prayed on for months. Now, all her certainty dissipated as she looked upon the tiny infant whose mouth curved into the most adorable gassy smile.

      “She’s beautiful,” Sarah whispered.

      “That she is,” Nalini agreed.

      Although both women hailed from different corners of the world with different backgrounds, religion, and life experiences, somehow they communicated without the benefit of a translator or even words. They each bowed their heads.

      Sarah prayed to Mary and Jesus and Nalini to Rama and Sita. Both of them hovered their hands over the baby. When the child wrapped her tiny fists around each woman’s finger, a powerful surge flooded Sarah’s heart.

      Sarah lifted her head, meeting Nalini’s eyes, knowing what the woman would say before she spoke.

      “I will keep her and raise her,” Nalini announced with complete conviction. “She will be my daughter. I love her.”

      “Your husband will allow this?”

      “He will not agree. He will show her little kindness, but a mother’s love is strong enough to overcome any obstacle.”

      “I will help you raise her. I will make sure she has a good life,” Sarah added. “I will love… I love her, too.”

      “What shall we name her?” Nalini asked. Typically, a naming ceremony involved family and input from the grandparents, but in this case, Nalini’s parents were deceased as was all her family.

      “What СКАЧАТЬ