They were two girls, left in the rain one morning, Ryan carrying Tara, not related according to the older girl, who spoke with perfect English and held her gaze like a grown woman, stood like someone who had lived many more than her five years. The girl could not, or would not it seemed to those who brought them in to the shelter of the home, say where they were from or how they had found themselves in New York City on this day, but here they were and the nuns did not turn them away. They were simply children, with dark dreams and bright eyes and easy smiles and charismatic ways. This was the thought the nuns clung to as they slept at night - just simple children given a hard hand who had dealt with it well, all things considered - just children who needed a home and needed each other. Nothing more. The nuns told themselves this again.