I got up to wash my face. Pull yourself together, I said to the face in the mirror. You made your bed and you must lie in it.

* * *

For the next few weeks after meeting the Boyles, I was skittish as a cat. Every time the doorbell rang, I raced upstairs in case it was the Boyles returning to challenge me on my story. I refused to go outside, blaming a summer cold, in case I should encounter them on the street. But as the days passed, the memory of that evening began to fade and, eventually, I was able to push it to the back of my mind.

I had also made excuses to Dom, even though I was afraid my actions would drive him away. I needn’t have worried. He called for me every Saturday night until I finally agreed to step out again. The truth was I had begun to look forward to his visits. We had fallen into an easy friendship, enjoying our time together. We had both survived a terrible ordeal, and that had forged a stronger bond than almost anything else could.

“Kathleen’s been spitting mad at me ever since that first night you took me home,” I said as we began to walk.

He shrugged. “Ah, sure Kathleen’s a lot like your Nora. She thinks every man should be in love with her.”

“And are you?” I teased.

He turned to face me. “Are you fecking joking me? Sure what would I ever see in Kathleen? She’s got a bob on herself, and for no good reason. You’re a good-looking girl, Delia. No wonder she’s jealous of you.”

I stopped in my tracks. Had Dom just said I was good-looking? Never in my lifetime had such a thought ever crossed my mind. I had always lived in Nora’s shadow.

“Ah now, who’s joking who?”

“’Tis true, Delia. I suppose you never thought you’d be able to compete with Nora. But she’s gone now. ’Tis time you saw yourself for what you’re worth.”

He had turned to face me, and I could see by his earnest gaze that he meant every word he said. Suddenly uncomfortable, I hurried to change the subject. I linked my arm through his.

“Come on now,” I laughed, “or you’ll have to fight off the crowd of lads lined up to dance with me.”

* * *

One Saturday night I came into the house humming Irish tunes. The dancing had been especially lively, and the melodies still lingered in my head. As I closed the front door, Mrs. Donahue came hurrying down the front hall, her finger to her lips.

“Be quiet now, Nora,” she whispered, nodding toward the library. “Mr. O’Hanlon has company.”