“That's what trauma will do to people,” Patrick said. “That's why they need their loved ones around, to help them get better. I hear that music is a really good way to get through to the other side.”

Sam shook her head. Patrick recognized the stubbornness of a fellow redhead.

“The Cape Hawk ceili is supposed to be great. There's a fierce competition, and your sister wants to enter. Is that how a woman afraid of her own shadow would act?”

“I'm not going,” Sam said.

Patrick took a deep breath. He could see that she was dug in to her position, and he knew better than to argue. Standing up, taking one last look at the picture of her sister, he looked up at her again.

“Got a tape deck?” he asked.

“Why?”

He just tilted his head, and she shrugged. He reached into his pocket, handed her the tape. She pushed PLAY, and suddenly the room was filled with music and fallen angels:

You may travel far,

Far from your own native home,

Far away o'er the mountains,

Far away o'er the foam,

But of all the fine places I've ever been,

Oh, there's none can compare

With the cliffs of Dooneen.

Patrick watched tears spill from her eyes, and he felt them in his own. He wondered if she was remembering the night she and her sister had sung those words. He knew she was hearing the harmony between them, and he saw her eyes slide to the photo, and then to her fiddle.

Clearing his throat, Patrick handed her his card.

“If you change your mind,” he said, “I'm driving up in a few days.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the card, placing it on the table. She didn't smile, and she didn't even glance at it.

Patrick wanted to ask her for the tape back, but she didn't offer. He figured she needed it more. They said goodbye, and as Patrick walked down the steps, he could almost feel her eyes on the back of his head. Behind him, the music rose into the night, and Patrick could still hear it, even as he drove away.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Right after Lily got home that evening, she took a swim. The salt water washed over her, cooling her skin and easing her mind. In the bay, she felt connected to Liam and Rose. She bobbed in the small waves, imagining that they must have come from the east, from the Atlantic. They must have passed Rhode Island.

Small fish bumped her legs, but she didn't even flinch. Maybe they were part of the Ghost Hills phenomenon. Maybe they were harbingers of Nanny—Lily closed her eyes and thought that if only she could see Rose's beloved beluga, everything would be fine. She needed something as magical as Nanny to make her believe that all would be well.