She stroked Ma’s sunken cheek and held her frail hand. Nearby, Ainslee and their father argued. Shannon remained silent, leaving her sister to fight their father alone. She brushed away strands of Ma’s dark brown hair from her fevered brow. Ainslee crossed her arms as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Da, we will not be leavin’! You cannot make us!” “Aye, daughter, I can. There is no future here for you and Shannon. No future for any of the Cahills.” He’d broken the news to them after their sparse supper. They had shared one barely-full-grown pratie between them, and for the past two weeks, had been forced to eat the seed potatoes for next year’s crop. Now her father wanted them to leave—leave home—leave Ballyclough—leave Ireland. Shannon was as upset as Ainslee, but she knew her father was right. “How can you send us away?” Ainslee knelt before him.
