“Oh, I used to dream that you'd find her,” Maeve said. “And love her and the baby. I'm so happy that she's found Liam, of course. But what about you? How do you feel about it?”

Patrick stared at the clouds for a minute, then looked down at Maeve.

“I've met someone,” he said.

“Patrick!” she said, her eyes shining.

He shook his head. “She's wonderful, but she's far away. And not just in miles—she's been through too much. She's—well, she's been very hurt. You're not going to believe this, Maeve. She was Edward's wife, after Lily.”

“The one from outside Boston? Patty, wasn't it? With a daughter who'd be about Rose's age . . . Grace?”

Patrick nodded, feeling a tingle run down his spine. “She ran away from him too, up to Nova Scotia—Cape Hawk—just like Lily . . . because of a picture Edward had, an old photograph of a whaling ship in the Cape Hawk harbor. She goes by the name Marisa Taylor now. Her daughter is Jessica.”

“And you . . .”

“I met her, when I went up to find Lily. She's beautiful. Plays music, and used to have a band with her sister. They're estranged now—because of what happened with Edward. He kept Marisa from seeing her sister, and a lot of damage was done. I tried to help, to convince her sister to forgive her, go up to Cape Hawk and reunite. But she wouldn't listen.”

Maeve stared at him with such light in her blue eyes. “Oh, Patrick,” she said. “You've done so much to pick up the pieces of lives shattered by that man. Lily's, mine. And now these other women . . . what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your marriage, dear. I know you're ‘tough,' as you said earlier. But I also know how that wounded you. Why don't you go up to see Marisa? Even if she can't reunite with her sister just yet, she would be a lucky person indeed to have a friend like you.”

“I don't know, Maeve.”

“Darling, if there's one thing this experience has taught me, it's that life is so short, and so precious. I feel so sorry that the sisters are losing time, and the chance to be together. Don't you lose it too. Go to Cape Hawk.”

Patrick looked at her as if he were her grandson and she was the wisest woman on earth.

“Please, Patrick,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Don't let Edward Hunter take one more thing from any of us. Take back your life, and give Marisa back hers. Don't give up.”

He couldn't speak, but he nodded. Maeve squeezed his hand, pulled him closer for a hug. Maeve had said Don't give up. Patrick let the words play in his mind, and he knew he had to try once more—if that didn't work, then so be it. Either way, he had a trip to make, and it was time he got started.