“Fins? Does he mean sharks?” Rose asked, worried.

“Yes,” Dr. Neill said gently.

“Look!” the boy said, gesturing with his fishing pole.

And suddenly Rose saw what they were pointing at: huge black triangles zigzagging around the blue cove.

“Will they get Nanny?” she asked.

“She's not here, honey,” he said, staring at the water. “We couldn't locate her on the computer, remember?”

Dr. Neill looked into her eyes then, smiled to reassure her. He put his good arm around Rose's shoulders, and then they both looked back at the sharks swimming in the bay. Seeing them made her miss her mother even more. She knew that only something bad could keep them apart, something as bad as sharks, and she bit her lip to hold in the tears and threw both her arms around Dr. Neill's neck.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As the day went on, the needlework shop got really busy. Jessica sat at the desk while her mother helped people choose yarn and pick out canvases to take home for souvenirs. The music festival was lots of fun for many reasons, and it was certainly really good for business. Cape Hawk was filling up with musicians and the tourists who had come to hear them, and everyone seemed to be stopping by to see what the shop had for sale.

Jessica was quiet, like a cat. She listened for clues to what was going on between her mother and aunt. They were sparse and few, and Jessica hoarded them when they came. Here was one right now.

“Oh, you're from Washington?” Jessica heard her mother ask a woman with a guitar case over her shoulder. “Do you play at the Golden Harp?”

“Yes, do you know it?” the woman asked.

“I used to play there, ages ago. My sister and I were at school in Baltimore, and we'd head into Georgetown on some weekends.”

Jessica's ears perked up—and she looked over at her mother's face for extra clues. She saw one right away, the bruised look in her eyes that came from thinking back to that happy time in nursing school.

“All those lawyers and congresspeople,” the woman said, laughing. “Looking for their lost Irishness and lost poetry.”

“Their lost souls,” Jessica's mother said quietly. “That's what my sister used to say.”

“Well, we give 'em back their souls, don't we?” the woman asked. “That's why they come to hear us play. That's what ceili music is all about. Giving people back their hearts and souls. Aren't you lucky, living here in such a beautiful place? Does the music just pour out of you?”

Jessica watched her mother tallying up the woman's purchases, pretending to concentrate on the numbers so she wouldn't have to answer.

“Are you performing at the festival?” the woman asked, after another moment.

“Well, if my sister gets here in time. But she's out of the country right now.”