I thought I’d feel like a hypocrite saying those words, and that she’d know I was lying. But that wasn’t the case. After all, she’d been a good mother to me up until I left for America. And now I’d come home and said a hurtful thing to her. She didn’t deserve that.

It took her a couple more days to thaw out, but soon she was back to her old self, and the questions started up again. I told myself I should have let the standoff go on longer; at least it had given me a bit of peace.

* * *

Just when I thought I might go mad, one day in late spring, Dom Donnelly appeared at the cottage door. I nearly fainted at the sight of him.

“Do you not know me, Nora?” he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Ah, for God’s sake, Dom, sure you nearly frightened the life out of me. I thought you were a ghost.”

“No, ’tis me in the flesh.”

I smiled, then. “’Tis grand to see you, Dom. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“So, are you inviting me in, or are we to talk on your doorstep?”

My hand flew to my mouth. “Ah, where’s my manners at all?”

I was about to let him in when I had second thoughts.

“Why don’t we take a stroll up the field, Dom?” I said. “That way we can talk without Ma sticking her nose in.”

He grinned. “Ah, sure, I know the way of it.”

We walked side by side up the hill toward the white rocks. I gave him a sideways glance. He’d filled out, more like a man now than a boy. And he was more handsome than I remembered. America had changed him too, just like myself. We sat down on the rocks and gazed in silence out at the ocean.

“It looks so peaceful, now,” Dom said.

“Aye, you’d hardly believe how cruel it can be. It can destroy life in a minute.” I looked over at him. “I’m sorry about Maeve.”

He nodded. “Our Maeve was never fit for this world. She was like a delicate wee flower beaten and battered by the winds. I pray she’s at peace now.” He looked at me with sad eyes. “They buried her in Nova Scotia,” he said, “but one day I’ll bring her home where she belongs.”

I made a silent sign of the cross.

“What are you doing back home?”

“My da died a fortnight ago. Ma needed me to sort out the farm. What about yourself?”

“I’m so sorry, Dom. God rest his soul.” I shrugged. “’Tis a long story.”