“Would you like me to call some people I know? International law enforcement types? They could track her down.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Marisa was silent for a long time, wrestling with her own loneliness and Jessica's, but thinking hard about what Sam would want. “I don't think she'd like that much,” she finally said. “I know that permits can be hard to get, visiting certain regions of the countries she visits. I wouldn't want to cause any problems for them. I guess it's better that I just wait to hear from her on her own.”

“I understand. Has she been up to Cape Hawk?”

“No,” Marisa said. “But I know she'd love it here. Especially now, with the music festival. Jessica's going to have a lemonade stand tomorrow, right by the gazebo. I can just imagine how Sam would love to see that. The old Sam, anyway.”

Patrick held the phone, filled with sudden longing. He heard the love in her voice and knew he'd do just about anything he could to help. They were connected by something Patrick couldn't put into words.

Marisa broke the silence. “I want to thank you for offering that, Patrick.”

“You don't have to thank me.”

“I'm going to play you something. Our favorite song,” she said. “Mine and Sam's.” And then he heard her lay down the receiver, and a bow being drawn across strings, and then the most beautiful notes he'd ever heard issued through the telephone.

Patrick Murphy closed his eyes, feeling his boat rock beneath him. His world had felt so unstable, ever since his divorce. He had been feeling as if the earth's axis had slipped, set him on a course for falling off its surface. But right now, even with waves from a passing tug making his boat toss in the wake, he felt as if he was getting ground under his feet.

The music filled his ears and his heart. He wanted it never to end. He wanted the music to play all night. Marisa's playing was beautiful, and evoked the hills and the cliffs and the whales and the rocks of Cape Hawk. It made Patrick want to start his engines and steam north, through the Cape Cod Canal, straight across the wide water to Nova Scotia.

He contained his feelings, told himself that she was just playing him a song, not inviting him to visit. He listened to her play, his tense muscles relaxing as the music filled his body and spirit.

He swore he heard her heart pouring through the wire—nothing less than all that passion he'd heard earlier, coming straight at him. He couldn't believe it, but he felt something just like hope. Hope in what—it didn't even matter. He just listened to Marisa's music with his eyes closed and knew he'd do whatever it took to bring her sister back to her.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7