“Mmphm.” She looked at him with sympathy. “Aye. And I expect he gave them back to ye in Philadelphia, did he?”

“He did,” Jamie said, a bit terse, and a wry amusement touched Jenny’s face.

“Tell ye one thing, a bràthair—he’s no going to forget you.”

“Aye, maybe not,” he said, feeling an unexpected comfort in the thought. “Well, then …” He let the beads run through his fingers, taking hold of the crucifix. “I believe in God, the Father Almighty …”

They said the Creed together, then the Our Father, and the three Hail Marys, and the Glory Be.

“Joyful or Glorious?” he asked, fingers on the first bead of the decades. He didn’t want to do the Sorrowful Mysteries, the ones about suffering and crucifixion, and he didn’t think she did, either. A yaffle called from the maples, and he wondered briefly if it was one they’d already seen, or a third. Three for a wedding, four for a death …

“Joyful,” she said at once. “The Annunciation.” Then she paused, and nodded at him to take the first turn. He didn’t have to think.

“For Murtagh,” he said quietly, and his fingers tightened on the bead. “And Mam and Da. Hail Mary, full o’ grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen.” Jenny finished the prayer and they said the rest of the decade in their usual way, back and forth, the rhythm of their voices soft as the rustle of grass.

They reached the second decade, the Visitation, and he nodded at Jenny—her turn.

“For Ian Òg,” she said softly, eyes on her beads. “And Ian Mòr. Hail Mary …”

The third decade was William’s. Jenny glanced at him when he said so, but only nodded and bent her head.

He didn’t try to avoid thinking of William, but he didn’t deliberately call the lad to mind, either; there was nothing he could do to help, until or unless William asked for it, and it would do neither of them good to worry about what the lad was doing, or what might be happening to him.

But … he’d said “William,” and for the space of an Our Father, ten Hail Marys, and a Glory Be, William must perforce be in his mind.

Guide him, he thought, between the words of the prayer. Give him good judgment. Help him to be a good man. Show him his way … and Holy Mother … keep him safe, for your own Son’s sake … “World without end, Amen,” he said, reaching the final bead.

“For all those to hame in Scotland,” Jenny said without hesitation, then paused and looked up at him. “Laoghaire, too, d’ye think?”