Patrick heard the shock in her voice. He pictured Sam's face, the emotion in her eyes as she'd talked about how her sister had changed. He couldn't bring himself to tell Marisa. He couldn't stand to think of her being so hurt. “I think she's been pretty busy,” he said. “The traveling and all . . .”

“What about Gracie?” Marisa asked, slipping up for the first time since Patrick had met her. “Jessica . . .”

“She told me she's her godmother.”

“The only person I would ever trust with my daughter,” Marisa said, her voice low and lost.

“I know she loves her,” Patrick said. “Loves you both.”

“Did she say that?”

“She didn't have to,” he said. “Her house is full of you. Pictures everywhere. Your brass candlesticks and crystal owl.”

“I thought . . .” Marisa said, then paused for a long minute. “I thought she might have gotten rid of them. I think she wants to forget about me—about me and Jess.”

“How can she?” Patrick asked, wishing he could hold her. “No one could forget you, Marisa.”

He waited for a few seconds, hearing his words sink in. Did she know how much he thought of her? He wanted to tell her that he wanted to listen to her sing all day and night; that he dreamed about her . . . and that he had wanted so badly to bring her sister back to her.

“It was so kind of you to try . . . you didn't have to do that, go see her,” she said. “It means a lot to me. Even if . . .”

“Don't give up hope,” Patrick said. “Give her a chance to think things over. She's a redhead, remember? We're stubborn as hell.”

She laughed a little, and he felt a smile come to his lips, the happiest he'd felt in days. “What do you think I'm looking at?” he asked.

“I can't imagine.”

“A white whale,” he said. “Right here, off the coast of Connecticut. Not twenty yards away from where I'm sitting.”

“Is it Nanny?” Marisa asked, sounding shocked and thrilled.

“I think so,” Patrick said. “But why would she be here?”

“Well, probably because of Rose.”

“Because of Rose . . .” Patrick repeated. He watched the whale watching him. It was the oddest sensation, as if she actually knew him. Her eyes blinked in the liquid light. They were dark and eloquent, as if the whale somehow knew what Patrick didn't.

“Yes,” Marisa said. “What other explanation could there be?”

“I wonder what Liam would say,” Patrick said. “He seems to think there's some kind of oceanographic mystery going on around here.”

“Well, I agree with him there. Love is always a mystery,” Marisa said.

“Love?” Patrick asked, his heart beating harder.

“Why shouldn't it be love? Whales are mammals. They make connections and feel bonds, just the way we do.”

Patrick couldn't quite speak, listening to her gentle voice.

“I'm a nurse,” she said. “I've studied anatomy. There are plenty of physical similarities. Why not emotional ones?”