When Heaven Weeps Read Free

children.
    â€œYes?”
    NADIA LOOKED into Father Michael’s eyes and saw the flash of pity before he spoke. It was more of a question than a statement, that look of his. More “are you sure you’re okay?” than “you look so lovely in your new dress.”
    None of them knew how well she could read their thoughts, perhaps because she’d long ago accepted the pity as a part of her life. Still, the realization that she limped and looked a bit plainer than most girls, regardless of what Mother told her, gnawed gently at her consciousness most of the time.
    â€œPetrus says that since I’m thirteen now all the boys will want to marry me. I told him that he’s being a foolish boy, but he insists on running around making a silly game of it. Could you please tell him to stop?”
    Petrus ran up, sneering. If any of the town’s forty-three children was a bully, it was this ten-year-old know-nothing brat. Oh, he had his sweet side, Mother assured her. And Father Michael repeatedly said as much to the boy’s mother, who was known to run about the village with her apron flying, leaving puffs of flour in her wake, shaking her rolling pin while calling for the runt to get his little rear end home.
    â€œNadia loves Milus! Nadia love Milus!” Petrus chanted and skipped by, looking back, daring her to take up chase.
    â€œYou’re a misguided fledgling, Petrus,” Nadia said, crossing her arms. “A silly little bird, squawking too much. Why don’t you find your worms somewhere else?”
    Petrus pulled up, flushing red. “Oh, you with all your fancy words! You’re the one eating worms. With Milus. Nadia and Milus sitting in a tree, eating all the worms they can see!” He sang the verse again and ran off with a whoop , obviously delighted with his victory.
    Nadia placed her hands on her hips and tapped the foot of her shorter leg with a disgusted sigh. “You see. Please stop him, Father.”
    â€œOf course, darling. But you know that he’s just playing.” Father Michael smiled and took a seat on the top step.
    He looked over the courtyard and Nadia followed his gaze . Of the village’s seventy or so people, all but ten or twelve had come today for her birthday. Only the men were missing, called off to fight the Nazis. The old people sat in groups around the stone tables, grinning and chatting as they watched the children play a party game of balancing boiled eggs on spoons as they raced in a circle.
    Nadia’s mother, Ivena, directed the children with flapping hands, straining to be heard over their cries of delight. Three of the mothers busied themselves over a long table on which they had arranged pastries and the cake Ivena had fretted over for two days. It was perhaps the grandest cake Nadia had ever seen, a foot high, white with pink roses made from frosting.
    All for her. All to cover up whatever pity they had for her and make her feel special.
    Father Michael’s gaze moved past the courtyard. Nadia looked up and saw a small band of soldiers approaching. The sight made her heart stop for a moment.
    â€œCome here, Nadia.”
    Father Michael lifted an arm for her to sit by him, and she limped up the steps. She sat beside him and he pulled her close.
    He seemed nervous. The soldiers.
    She put her arm around him, rubbing his humped back.
    Father Michael swallowed and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t mind Petrus. But he is right, one day the men will line up to marry such a pretty girl as you.”
    She ignored the comment and looked back at the soldiers who were now in the graveyard not a hundred yards off. They were Partisans, she saw with some relief. Partisans were probably friendly.
    High above birds cawed. Again Nadia followed the father’s gaze as he looked up. Five ravens circled against the white sky. Michael looked to his right, to the vestibule roof. Nadia saw the lone dove staring on, clucking with its