17

“What do you mean it is your fault, my child?” asked Zerden’s mother. Mary looked at her and suddenly, the words poured out of her mouth. She told them about how first her father got sick and then her mother; she told them no one wanted to help them and how she took care of them. She told them about the day she opened the store and how she had gone to the market.

“It was my fault,” she said in a low voice. “I should have stayed with them and taken care of them. Instead, I went to the market and when I got home, I milked the goats and looked for eggs. I should have taken care of them, but I was stupid and selfish and that’s why they died,” she told them. She continued to tell them about how she ran and looked for the Lady, how she had found her, but that it had been too late. “That’s why she brought me here,” Mary said. She was sitting with her head lowered now. There were no tears, and she was calm, uncomfortably calm. She didn’t dare look at any of the others sitting around the table