her longing to have children of her own.
“They’re just so innocent and perfect, aren’t they?”
she had said softly.
He had readily agreed, as he always did when she
asked him something, but he hadn’t thought much
of it. Entrenched in his lies, he had rarely interacted
with children and he hadn’t understood the
innocence of which she had spoken. With Angela,
though, he saw that childish trust and purity up
close. Instead of not understanding it, he craved it.
He enjoyed the soft touch of the tiny hand. His heart
stopped its painful throbbing at her kiss, and he had
to smile at her aspirations because she was so small
yet so sweetly in earnest. It was only then that he
realized just how much he had lost when he lost Jade.
In that rather uncomfortable position, both in body
and mind, he dozed off. While he was sleeping, a
bus stopped, and the mother and her three children
moved toward the door. As they did, Angela ran back
toward Nick and tucked something under his arm.
Then she skipped up the stairs of the bus, the door
swung closed, and the station was once again quiet.
Nick awoke just before his bus came in. Rising to
stretch his legs, he noticed something drop to the
ground. He bent to pick it up.
*****
When the ten-thirty bus came rolling into the
station, only one person was waiting for it. It was a
tall, muscular young man in a leather jacket, with no
traveling bags, and he hesitated so long at the open
door of the bus that the driver grew impatient. Then
the man looked down at something and seemed to
make up his mind. As the driver grabbed the offered
ticket with an annoyed grunt, he noticed that the
young man was holding something tightly in his
hand: it was a faded white teddy bear with a little
golden cross stitched over its heart.
Katelyn Daniels
is a 17 year old senior from Maine, the 2nd
oldest of 6 siblings. She has been homeschooled her whole
life, and has been a Seton student since 8th grade. She is
a decided introvert and loves spending quiet time alone,
pursuing hobbies such as reading classic literature, writing
stories, and creating poetry. She is firmly convinced that she
ought to have been born in the nineteenth century into an
English cottage or onto an Oriental mountainside village
(depending on her mood). Teatime in the afternoon is a
daily essential, and she loves gardening, taking long walks
in the woods, and daydreaming about a fairytale life with
Prince Charming and a brood of her own mischief-makers.
She is an ardent advocate of late nights, old-fashioned
things, romance, and chivalry. She has a special devotion
to the Precious Blood of Jesus, St. Joseph, Padre Pio, and St.
Rose of Lima.
11
BAYLEY BULLETIN, MAR-MAY 2016
