“Well, I wouldn't say that,” she said. “I hope not, anyway. She's a nurse, and her work takes her all over the world. Last I heard, she was in Peru. The thing is, I invited her up here for the Ceili Festival, and—”

“Whoa, stop a minute. The what?”

“The Ceili Festival.”

“That's right, that's right,” Patrick said. “Keep in mind, you're talking to a Murphy. The word ‘ceili' makes my heart beat a little faster. It's in the genes. So, you're saying your sister is invited, but she hasn't replied?”

“Pretty much.”

“That doesn't sound like angelic behavior to me. Even a fallen angel.”

“You remembered,” Marisa said, thinking about how Patrick's encouragement in Cape Hawk had fired her desire to play again.

Patrick's eyes narrowed as he stared at the birds wheeling over the smooth blue water. “That wasn't a band a good Irishman would forget hearing about. I'm still hoping to hear you play one of these days.” He had the Chieftains on the CD player, and he turned it up. “So, go on. Your sister hasn't replied to your invitation. Have you been in close touch, in general?”

“Well . . .” Marisa said, trailing off.

“Not so close?”

“We were, always. But then I married Ted . . .”

“Edward Hunter strikes again,” Patrick said. He thought of Lily and Maeve, the years of separation between them. Such wonderful women, taken in by such a creep.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I ask myself that all the time. It wasn't any one thing. She just couldn't stand to see me losing myself. She's such a strong woman, the way I used to be. We became nurses because we wanted to help the sickest of the sick and the poorest of the poor.” Her voice closed down, and she trailed off.

Patrick held the receiver, wishing he could comfort her. He'd seen the haunted look in her eyes up at Cape Hawk, and he recognized it from other women he'd seen.

“Abuse takes a lot out of a person,” he said. “You should forgive yourself.”

“I just wish Sam would forgive me,” she said softly.

“You might have pushed her away,” he said. “That's what seems to happen.”

“I did,” she said. “That's the hardest thing to live with. Jessica loves Sam so much—and the longer it goes on without hearing from her, the more it seems as if we never will.”

“Are you worried about her?”

When she didn't respond, he went in another direction. “You say your sister is in Peru?”

“Yes. In the mountains, traveling around to poor villages.”

“Do you know the name of the group she's with?”

“It's based in Baltimore, out of Johns Hopkins—Global Care.”

Patrick wrote it down. “You're sure she's still in Peru?”

“Positive. She sent out a group e-mail recently, and she mentioned going to another area.”

“What's her name—as it appears on her passport?”

“Samantha Joan Mahon.”