“Not forever,” Marisa reminded her. But when Lily left for Connecticut, she took her daughter Rose with her—leaving both Marisa and Jessica without best friends until they got back to Cape Hawk.

“It seems funny, to hear Irish music without you and Aunt Sam playing it,” Jessica said.

“Seems that way to me too.”

“Do you think she's coming?”

“I don't know,” Marisa said. She didn't want Jessica to get her hopes up.

“You'd win the ceili contest,” Jessica said. “Your band was good enough to put you both through nursing school.”

“We got by,” Marisa said. And they had. She remembered what the Baltimore Sun had said about their last performance together, at the Molly Maguire Pub just off the Johns Hopkins campus: “Fallen Angels play with holy ardor, sexy and thrilling, and somehow make traditional Irish music—as well as their original material—surprising and new. If you want a different kind of religious experience, head down to the Molly Maguire Pub to check out these fiddle-playing sisters.”

“Did you send her the website?” Jessica asked.

“I did,” Marisa said.

“Well,” Jessica said, “maybe it's just because she hasn't seen your e-mail yet. We're so far apart, and Aunt Sam is in South America—right?”

“Peru,” Marisa said.

“Well, that's why she hasn't written,” Jessica said, sounding uncertain. “She's just busy. She's such a good nurse, like you were. I'm sure she's just caring for lots of sick people. She'll write or call us as soon as she gets back to Baltimore. We're just so far apart, that's all.”

“I'm sure you're right, honey,” Marisa said. She tried to smile, but Jess's words hit her like a lightning bolt: We're just so far apart. Jess was right, and it had nothing to do with miles. Her sister had ignored all Marisa's recent attempts to reach out. The breach between them seemed so deep now, and passing time only made it more so. Marisa had hoped the ceili contest would pique Sam's interest, so she would come north and they could talk.

“What if she's lost?” Jessica asked.

“Lost?”

“In Peru,” Jessica said, looking worried. “What if something happened to her?”

“Oh, Jess—Sam travels all the time. I'm sure she's fine.”

“But what if she isn't? Maybe you should ask that detective to help us find her,” Jessica said.

“Hmm,” Marisa said.

“The one who came up here, searching for Lily. Patrick. He was nice.”

“He was,” Marisa said. “He's also very far away.”

“There's such a thing as planes, Mom,” Jessica said.

“I know,” Marisa said, hugging Jessica. Maybe Patrick could help. Marisa could call him—it would have nothing to do with his blue eyes, or the time they had spent together when he was up in Cape Hawk.