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wonders of the world, went bone-dry. The water stopped almost completely. A mere trickle leaked over the lip of the cliff.

It was such a singular wonder that the Sisters of Charity organized a field trip to take the girls to see the miracle. It

was like a second miracle that the nuns were actually taking the girls on a field trip.

On the Fourth of July, everyone was instructed to make sure their uniforms were spotless, their hair neatly combed, their

faces scrubbed, and their teeth cleaned. In the kitchen, they put together sack lunches—slabs of white bread, government cheese,

plums that were not quite ripe, and as a special treat for the holiday, a Little Debbie cake in the shape of a star. The girls

buzzed with excitement as they filed onto the bus. Normally they only ever got out for high mass once a month, so this was

a rare opportunity. The nuns harangued them with dire warnings about their behavior, and of course everyone solemnly promised

to follow the rules.

Mairin’s excitement was edged by a sense of urgency. This could be her chance to escape. It was Independence Day, after all.

As the bus drove north to the Falls, she stared out the window, sizing up the situation and looking for opportunities to get

away. Maybe she could get someone to see her situation. Or maybe she could slip away into the crowd.

The bus pulled into the parking lot, and the girls chattered and prodded one another as they got off, blinking in the summer sunlight.

The chaperones made them line up in front of the bus for another lecture about their conduct in public.

Mairin hunched her shoulders and pretended to listen, feeling the heavy cloak of shame settle over her.

The whole world could see that the side of the bus was marked with large letters spelling out Good Shepherd Refuge .

She hated the stares of curiosity checking them out as the girls, in their drab uniforms, formed two lines flanked by vigilant

nuns.

“Stay away from that lot,” a pinch-faced woman in a mod minidress cautioned her children, guarding them like a hen with a

clutch of eggs and drawing them away from the girls. Her hands closed like talons on the handle of her pocketbook. “They’re

from that reform school down in Buffalo.” The information only made the kids gawk harder, turning back toward the girls even

as their mother towed them in the other direction.

Teenagers nudged one another and snickered, pointing at the Good Shepherd girls. Denise shot them the bird, and one of them

called, “Ooh, I’m so scared.”

“Look at their weird hair,” said a girl with a waist-length ponytail and a top that showed her bare midriff.

Mairin exchanged a glance with Odessa. Everyone’s hair had actually grown out quite a bit since the shearing. Odessa was cultivating

an impressive Afro style, which the nuns hated, but Mairin thought it looked cool. Her own hair was a curly mop, like Orphan

Annie in the comics.

Helen walked along with her gaze on the ground, looking as if she wanted to fling herself over the falls. Janice hovered near

Kay, who hunched her shoulders and kept her hands in the pockets of her smock. Angela glanced around, her eyes bright with

excitement. Ever since she’d returned from having the baby, she seemed different. Bolder and angrier, and grown up in a way

the others could only imagine.

The nuns herded the group along a walkway to the viewing area where tourists and summer camp groups milled around, taking pictures and staring at the giant pit far below.

“Little Deuce Coupe” by the Beach Boys streamed from speakers at the WKBW booth, the upbeat music lifting everyone’s spirits.

Almost everyone. Sister Rotrude bridled and wrinkled her nose as if she detected a bad smell.

Standing at a railed viewing station, Mairin surveyed the pile of rubble at the base of the falls—where the thundering water

should have been, anyway.

“Girls, this is a place no creature has ever stood before,” Sister Gerard intoned, raising her voice to be heard over the

music and crowds. “You are looking at a place the sun has never touched, nor ever will again, once the Lord God Almighty reopens

the floodgates.”

Like our lives, thought Mairin, lifting her face to welcome the midday heat. We live in a place the sun never touches. She

knew the sun would darken her freckles, but she didn’t care because it felt as sweet and warm as summer itself.

Sister Gerard preached with grand authority, telling the girls that before the miracle, sixty-five and a half billion gallons

of water used to flow over Niagara Falls every twenty-four hours. “That works out to seventy-six thousand gallons that spilled

over every second,” she said. “Now the Lord has pulled back the protective curtain, exposing all to the world.”

Mairin wondered what it would be like if the protective habits of the nuns were stripped away, if the constant rush of scripture

and discipline and cruelty were shut off in one motion. What debris and remnants would be exposed for all to see?

“We are privileged today to witness such a never-before-seen spectacle,” the prioress said.

“Yeah, sure,” Denise muttered.

“It’s been seen before,” Helen said. “The falls stopped like a hundred years ago, when there was an ice jam. I read about

it in National Geographic .” Helen seemed to have read and memorized all the National Geographic s in the world. Maybe that was what brainy kids did when their parents were college professors.

“But an ice jam could never happen in the middle of summer like this,” Janice said, pressing her hands to her heart.

Mairin looked down into the dry chasm, where she could see all sorts of debris—broken trees and pieces of metal among a big pile of jagged rocks.

Her father had worked here for his entire career, until the Falls took him.

She leaned against the railing and stared out over the cliff, wondering if any part of him remained. Dad, are you there?

She could still hear his daily farewell, called over his shoulder as he left for work: See you when I come back around .

You never came back around, Dad. You never did .

“Hey, are you all right?” Odessa’s brow was puckered with concern.

Mairin brushed at her cheeks. She was supposed to be the tough one. “I’m okay,” she said hurriedly.

“Were you overcome by the miracle, Ruth?” asked Sister Bernadette in a tremulous voice. “This hallowed miracle?”

“What?” Mairin scowled at her. “Jeez. It’s not a damn miracle.”

Bernadette winced as if stabbed by pain. “We’ve all seen the divine power of the water,” she said. “Nothing short of a miracle

could possibly stop Niagara Falls.”

“So I guess they’re gonna rename the Army Corps of Engineers the Army Corps of Miracles,” Mairin said.

“I don’t understand.” Bernadette glanced nervously from side to side. A tiny bead of sweat escaped her veil. “You mustn’t

blaspheme, Ruth.”

“Turning off the falls has been talked about for a long time,” Mairin said. “Even six years ago when my dad was still alive.

He worked for the power company.”

“Your dad’s dead?” Odessa asked. “You never told us.”

“That’s really sad,” Helen said. “What happened?”

Mairin pulled in a shaky breath. This would always be hard. Always. This would never not be sad. She had to simply resign

herself to that reality. The sadness would continue for as long as she lived. “He was killed right near here, down in the

Whirlpool Rapids. He and his crew were trying to rescue another boat that was in distress, and he went under and drowned.

It was the worst day of my life,” she added, her voice cracking like the rocks over the cliff. Maybe, she thought, this was

the reason she was able to tolerate all the punishments the nuns doled out. There would never be anything worse than that

day.

“Oh, jeez, that’s really awful,” said Janice. “About your dad, not the water being turned off.”

“They didn’t exactly turn off the water,” Mairin said, wanting to change the subject. “The army engineers made a dam to divert

the flow of the river away from the American Falls.”

“Why?” asked Kay. “Why’d they do that?” She stared down at the pile of rocks.

Without the water, it was just a cliff, thought Mairin. It wasn’t much to look at—a big pile of rubble.

A man in a park ranger uniform came over, tipping his cap respectfully to the nuns. “I overheard your question, young lady,”

he said to Kay.

Kay clutched at Janice’s arm. Kay was afraid of the outside world. She shrank and shivered from strangers, and was currently

regarding the ranger in horror. The fact that he was a man in uniform, crisp and authoritative-looking, only added to her

fear.

Janice stuck to Kay like glue and kept her calm. “Don’t freak out or they’ll make us go back early,” she said under her breath.

“I wonder if they found buried treasure down there,” Odessa speculated.

The ranger winked at her. “So far, we’ve only found random coins, bike parts, and junk, but nothing of value.”

“Then why’d they stop the water?” asked Denise.

“The idea was to find a way to move the boulders piled up at the base of the falls so the cascade would have a longer fall,”

the ranger said.

“So did they figure out a way to move the rocks?” asked Helen.

“They did not. Human mastery over nature doesn’t always work out. It was a grand experiment, though. The dam will be dismantled

soon, and the flow will be restored.”

“Thanks be to God.” Sister Bernadette made the sign of the cross.

He tipped his hat again. “You have a good day, ma’am. Girls.”

A daring impulse seized Mairin, and she hurried after him. “Sir! Sir, wait a minute, please.”

He stopped and turned with a wary frown. “What is it, young lady?”

Mairin slipped a glance over her shoulder. “I’m... We need help. The girls and I.” She gestured back at the group. Lowering her voice, she said, “We’re prisoners, sir. We’re being held against our will at the Good Shepherd.”