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“No,” she said softly, staring at the grave
that the men were filling. The priest still stood by the rim,
supervising. “No reason at all.”

“I’ll take you,” Mike said gruffly. “Today,
if you like.”

He had dropped her hand when Fiona hugged
her. Now he watched her rub her hand against her slacks. The breeze
had picked up.

Already he could feel the coming autumn in
his bones. It was going to be a hard winter.

That much he knew.

The goodbye was worse than Sarah could ever
have imagined. She literally clung to Fiona until John had to
remind her by patting her on the back that Mike was waiting at the
entrance to the camp. Declan had moved back into the cabin but his
injuries kept him on the front sofa most of the day.

Whatever fight he’d had in him was gone.

Leaving the two of them like this was nearly
worse than burying Papin, Sarah thought.

Nearly.

Her farewell to Siobhan had been brisk and
efficient but the old woman actually broken down and wept.

Nobody else came out to say goodbye. Sarah
thought that was a pretty fair illustration of how the community
had become divided since Brian Gilhooly came. While she hadn’t been
close to many of the camp women, she had been friendly with them,
easily sharing a laugh or lightening the workload of some chore
made easier with more hands.

John climbed into the driver’s seat of the
pony cart to wait for her. Gavin leaned over John’s knee and the
two spoke in low voices. Sarah realized she was ripping John away
from the only brother he’d ever known.

“Mom, come on, Uncle Mike will be waiting,”
John said, not looking at her. She gave Fiona one more last
hug.

“This isn’t the end, Fi,” she said. “I
promise you that. I’ll be back to see that little one. This isn’t
the end.”

Although they both knew it was.

“I love you, Sarah Woodson,” Fiona said,
smiling past her tears. “I’ve never met a female MacGyver before,
eh? And I’ll never forget you.”

“Nor me you, Fi. I love you, too.”

Sarah ran around the front end of the cart
and threw her arms around Gavin. “Take care of yourself, Gavin,”
she said, tears pouring down her face. “And take care of your da,
please.”

“I will,” Gavin said solemnly.

She gave him one last squeeze then pulled
herself up onto the cart to sit next to John. She gave a limp half
wave to Fiona, standing alone on her porch, her hand on her
stomach, her broken husband inside. John drove the trap down the
main walkway of the camp. Several gypsies stood and waved to John,
a few called to him. Nobody else showed themselves.

John drove through the front gate and
brought the little pony to a halt when he saw Mike standing by the
first clutch of elm trees. Seeing him standing there, so familiar
to her, his hair blowing lightly in the cool breeze, Sarah had to
force herself to look at John and remind herself why she was doing
all this.

After handing over the reins to Sarah, John
settled himself in the back of the cart. When Mike took his place,
he leaned back and ruffled John’s hair briefly.

“Morning,” he said to Sarah.

Not trusting her voice, she merely nodded.
Her hands were in her lap, but they were shaking. As Mike drove the
little pony cart away from the camp, she shut her eyes against the
temptation of turning around to look.

Nothing good could come from that.

After a moment, she let the sounds of the
pony’s hooves on the hard packed dirt road and the jangle of his
harness lull and relax her.

“How long do you think it will take us by
cart?” she asked softly.

Mike scanned the clouds as if looking for
the answer in the heavens. “Not much longer than on horseback,” he
said. “Last time you and I went, we stayed mostly on the road
anyway.”

“Eight hours?”

“Something like that. Did you bring a
lunch?”

She nodded. “In the back with John. Are you
hungry?”

He shook his head.

She cleared her throat. “Aideen and little
Taffy staying with you at our old place, I guess?”

Mike clucked to the pony to increase his
trot. “We called it off,” he said. “The engagement.”

Sarah felt her hands tingle at his words.
Now there was nothing standing between her and Mike…but her.

“Mom? Can I have one of these sandwiches
back here? I’m starving.”

“Sure, sweetie,” she said. She turned to
Mike and looked at him for the first time since he’d climbed into
the driver’s seat. His face was implacable, giving away nothing. He
kept his eyes on the road between the pony’s ears.

What was there to say? That this changes
everything? Stop the cart?

Sarah looked out over the Irish countryside.
The road they were on was bordered by a long and low stonewall on
both sides. It was broken in several sections but that could easily
have happened before The Crisis.

How in the world was she going to ride like
this for eight hours without sobbing her heart out?

She took a long breath and tightened her
fists to give her strength. “It might mean nothing,” she said,
slowly, “but I was thinking about the thing that started the whole
disaster with Declan getting thrown in jail and Papin’s little
speech.”

Mike frowned. “You mean Jamison pawing
you?”

“It was so out of the blue. Like he was
waiting for me.”

“You think he and Caitlin are having it
on.”

“I don’t know, but my read is that Brian is
clueless about Caitlin’s real agenda.”

“So she’s taken an accomplice.”

“However much knowing it helps.”

“All knowledge helps.”

“Will you stay in the area?”

“That’s just what Aideen asked me. You mean,
like start a new community?”

“No, but with Gavin living in the camp…”

“He’ll move in with me and Aideen
tomorrow.”

“So you and Aideen will still live
together?”

“Until I can find another place for
her.”

Sarah nodded and let the information sink
in. “What about Fi?”

“Fi has to decide what she and Declan want,”
Mike said. “If they decide to leave, they’re welcome to come to my
place, too.”

“Seamus and Deirdre’s cabin is a little
small for seven people.”

“Seven?”

“Well, there’s the baby soon.”

Mike sighed. “Right. Funny how something we
were all celebrating just last week now seems like such a
complication.”

Sarah didn’t answer.

“I’ll probably leave,” he said. “Head back
to the coast.”

Sarah didn’t know why she found that
information upsetting. “For the fishing?”

He shrugged. “It’s what I know. Makes a hell
of a lot more sense than running an inland agricultural
community.”

“You did a great job running that
community.”

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said dryly.
“Millions wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure everyone is having second thoughts
now that Caitlin’s there. Did you hear that she’s having stocks
erected next to the camp center? For public humiliation?”

Mike grimaced. “She’ll probably just rotate
all the poor gypsy bastards through it on a weekly basis.”

“Plus, there’s a rumor that one of her
grotty twin brothers raped a gypsy girl over the weekend. But the
gypsies are too afraid to report it now that Declan’s out of the
picture.”

“Welcome to Daoineville.”

“It’s a nightmare.”

“That it is.”

They were silent for several minutes before
Sarah spoke again. “I can’t help but think Papin was all my fault.”
Her voice cracked and she struggled not to cry.

Mike put a hand on her knee. “I know you do.
But isn’t it enough to mourn her without feeling responsible for
her death, too?”

“That makes sense but I can’t help it.”

“Try harder.”

“I really wanted us to be the family she
never had.”

“And we were. Why not think
of it this way: she died because she loved us so much she didn’t
want to lose us. And
that’s
because we showed her what love is.”

“Do you think she was doomed from the
start?”

“Sarah, we loved her, we did our best by
her. It ending like this doesn’t alter those facts.”

“I just can’t believe she’s gone.” She
buried her face in her hands and felt Mike’s arm go around her
shoulders. From behind her, she felt John’s hand on her back.

“We all miss her, Mom,” John said. “It’s
nobody’s fault she’s gone except maybe Caitlin’s.”

“And the minute Caitlin
came into camp,” Mike said, patting Sarah’s shoulder, “we, none of
us, had any control over what was going to happen next. You said
yourself, it was supposed to be
Fiona
dead this morning, and you in
handcuffs for murder.”

“Is that true?” John said. “Caitlin wanted
to frame you for killing Auntie Fi?”

Sarah gave Mike a worried look. “Did you
ever tell Fi the truth? She needs to know she’s not safe
there.”

“I told her and Dec both,” he said, his eyes
on the road, his voice grim. “As I said, they’ll make their
decision soon enough.”

“Well, maybe
not
soon
enough.”

“In any case,” Mike said,
glancing meaningfully at her, “it’s out of
your
hands whatever they
do.”

“I just can’t believe it’s all over,” she
said, her eyes reverting again to the vibrant green of the Irish
countryside. “Donovan’s Lot, Papin, our lives, our friends…just a
little over month ago we were all so happy.”

The memory of the man coming into their camp
on the night of Fiona’s wedding came unbidden to Sarah as she
remembered hearing his news, not imagining then how it would change
all of their lives forever.

Mike removed his arm from her shoulders and
they drove in silence for the next several hours.

Limerick was very much the same bustling
metropolis as the last time Sarah had seen it. Mike drove the cart
straight to the forecourt of the American consulate. It was still
early afternoon. Sarah knew they had missed the flight they were
originally scheduled for but had to assume there would be
others.

Although they had stopped several times for
everyone to stretch their legs, Sarah still descended the cart with
difficulty, her muscles sore and resistant to movement. She left
Mike and John with the pony cart and went inside to announce their
arrival. Within thirty minutes she was back.

“Well?” Mike asked. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “They have another transport
flight first thing in the morning. We’re scheduled to be on
it.”

She looked at Mike, but in the half shadows
of the waning afternoon was unable to decipher his expression. He
went to the back of the cart and took out the single small suitcase
that held their belongings. He set it down on the pavement next to
Sarah.

“Mike, surely you’re not going back today?
You won’t be half way home when it gets dark.”

He turned to John and opened his arms to
him. Sarah watched her son go to him. She heard Mike’s low murmured
voice to him and saw John, looking down, nod. Her heart caught in
her throat and she turned away from the sight. It had been Mike,
without having to be asked, who had made the detour to stop by
David’s grave at the beginning of their journey. For one last
goodbye.

When she felt John rush past her toward the
consulate where they would spend the night, she knew the time for
the very last goodbye had finally come.

Mike stood by the pony cart watching her,
his head cocked to one side as if trying to understand her or read
her, his face a mask of such deep sadness, she wanted to look
away.

Instead, she steadied her shoulders and
walked straight into it. Before she even knew what she was doing,
she was in his arms, her hands wrapped around his waist, her face
pressed to his chest. She felt him envelop her and for just a
moment all pain seemed to seep away.

When she lifted her face to him, he touched
her jaw with his fingers and tilted her face towards him. The kiss
was urgent and fierce and complete. It was the one to make up for
all the others they hadn’t had, and for all nights they would never
have. Sarah abandoned herself in the feel of his full lips, the
roughness of his beard against her cheek. His scent was of leather
and the outdoors and she was lost in it.

When he pulled a way, she was
breathless.

“Because that’ll have to last us awhile,” he
said, his eyes glittering meaningfully at her.

“I love you, Mike.”

“I love you, too, Sarah.”

“Meet me in Dublin in five
years at the
Grand Cafe
,” she said, not knowing she was going to say it before the
words were tumbling out of her mouth. “Unless…you know, you’re
married with kiddies by then. Then don’t worry about it. But I’ll
be there.”

She watched his slow grin reach his eyes and
rejoiced that either of them could still feel pleasure on such a
day.

“I have no idea what to
make of you. And
why
would we meet in five years?”

“So that this isn’t really goodbye.”

“Ahhhh.” His smile faltered then, but he
brushed a lock of hair from her face and kissed her again, this
time gently. “That’s fine. So long then, sweet Sarah. Until
Dublin.”

When he released her, she was smart enough
not to hesitate but to turn, pick up her bag and walk away.

And not look back.

18

The Florida coast looked like a painting at
this height, Sarah thought. They had stopped briefly in Washington
and then flown down the coast before turning inland toward the
Jacksonville International Airport. Sarah looked at John, who was
still young enough to want the window seat.