Chapter 1: Swagger

The bright horns of Tijuana Brass cut into his dream, and Sam Kirk rolled out of bed half asleep. The computer sensed his rising and toned down Herb Alpert's classic band as he staggered toward the bathroom. After showering, he smoothed on fresh beard repressor and slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans. Then he went into his little kitchen and ordered bacon and eggs from the tabletop replicator. Fully awake now, he ate quickly, one eye on the little viewscreen by his plate as he caught up on the latest news. Then it was time to go.

Sam slid his dirty plate into the dishwasher, grabbed his coat, and headed downstairs. Outside his apartment building, he glanced skyward and frowned at the sprinkling of stars. Nightfall, and a brisk lake wind tousled his auburn hair as he hurried to the Goose Island transit tube. Another five minutes, and he was checking in at Downtown Main, where he had worked since moving to Chicago six years ago.

In the locker room, he quickly shed his civilian clothes for the trim blue uniform of a police officer. Then he rushed off to receive the daily report from the watch commander. His pulse quickened as he slipped into the chair his partner had saved for him.

Clayton Duval's grin flashed brilliantly against his dark African skin. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged. He always cut it close, and they both knew it. The pressure made for a little added excitement. Sometimes Clay even called him "reckless", and though the word never appeared in Clay's written reports, it annoyed Sam. He did not like thinking of himself as a thrill-seeker, even if it might be true. It made him sound too much like his father.

One thing for sure—he would never do anything to jeopardize his position on the force. He loved policing this old city in the dark of night. Each shift held a promise of adventure, and today was no different as he settled behind the controls of the air car he shared with Clay. It was a good vehicle, the very latest patrol model, complete with remote stun capability and blast shielding. Of course, the majority of calls involved domestic disputes, delinquency, and petty crime. But they had also battled their share of off-world smugglers, along with an occasional murder.

Tonight the shift went smoothly, and back at the station, Sam told Clay goodbye and logged out for two weeks of vacation. He wore his uniform home—he would need it where he was going—and stopped at his favorite tavern for some liquid refreshment. It was a warm, friendly place, all but deserted now that morning was coming on. As he sat drinking at the polished wood bar, a sinuous blonde came out of the shadows and settled into the seat beside him.

"Hey Sam," Flo purred seductively, "you off-duty?"

As he turned to flirt with her, he glimpsed his reflection in a mirror behind the bar and for an instant he thought he saw his father. His charming smile faded.

"Sam," repeated his lady friend—one of many. It was uncanny, the way he attracted them. "Sam, when are you going to settle down and make some woman a good husband? How old are you now? Thirty?"

"Near enough." Sam swallowed the last bracing swig of Scotch…one shot…a strict limit since his first and only drunk at age sixteen. He didn't like being out of control, but there was no denying that he was his father's son. The craving for adventure, the love of alcoholic beverages. And women—oh yes, he had a weakness for the ladies that often landed him in the confessional. But he had seen how Dad hurt his mother and his sister. He knew firsthand the pain of his father's desertion, and feared that someday he might be capable of turning his back on a wife, or even a child. That he might end up just like his old man.

Staring at his empty glass, he said, "I'll never marry." Then, stirred by Flo's nearness, he smiled at her, his brown eyes twinkling roguishly. "I'm saving myself for the priesthood."

She laughed and tried to push him off the stool, but a kiss subdued her and they left the bar together.

oooo

Sam arrived at the Dreamcatcher Ranch on career day, and his uniform created quite a stir with the resident boys. Soon after his presentation, his sister Tru showed up, her reddish-blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail. He gave her a hearty hug and she returned it, apologizing for her lateness. She had been off in a distant meadow sketching wildflowers with the young lady at her side, and had lost track of the time. The two of them looked flushed and healthy from their outdoor expedition.

Tru introduced her companion. "Jenny, I'd like you to meet my brother Sam. Sam, this is Jenny Flynn, a niece of Father O'Day." Her voice dropped out of respect for Jenny's recent loss. "She came from Ireland to nurse Father when his health was failing. Now she's working around the place for us."

Father O'Day's niece. Intrigued, Sam studied her. She seemed quite young, hardly more than twenty, with jet-black hair and freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her rosy cheeks dimpled as she offered him a polite smile, but the look in her green eye was decidedly cool.

Sam wondered why as he said, "Glad to meet you, Miss Flynn. It's too bad about your uncle. Father O'Day was a fine priest…and a good friend of mine."

"Sure, and everyone loved him," Jenny replied in a sweet brogue while staring at a button on Sam's uniform.

Tru said, "A priest comes in from Weaverville on Sunday to hear confessions and offer Mass in our chapel. But it's just not the same…"

"No," Sam agreed, "it wouldn't be." He turned his attention back on Jenny, and though he had a winning smile ready, her eyes remained elsewhere.

oooo

As soon as Jenny managed a minute alone with Tru, she could not help but ask, "Your brother—how long did ya say he'll be stayin'?"

"He has two weeks of vacation," Tru replied, "but I'm sure Mom will want him home part of that time." Mistaking Jenny's question for a spark of romantic interest, she winked. "Handsome devil, isn't he?"

Jenny huffed but held her tongue. It wouldn't do to run down her employer's brother. Tru had no way of knowing how Jenny felt about cops, or the bitter reason for it. Only Father O'Day had known—her kindly Uncle Phineas. For that very reason, he had paid her way from Dublin and kept her at his side until the end, even willing her his bit of money so she would not have to go back. For sure, she did not like Sam or any of his kind. She would be glad when he headed back to his beat and quit disturbing the hard-won peace she had found here in the wilds of California.

oooo

Some things never changed at Dreamcatcher—the rich springtime pastures, the clouds of apple blossoms, the young vegetables in the carefully tended garden. But time had its effect on people. Jamie, his wife Anika, and Lame Wolf were all approaching middle age, and Tru was not far behind. Two of their children were already grown. Even the younger ones were in their teens, and no longer hung on their Uncle Sam when he came visiting.

The horses were different, too. Fresh from a hearty breakfast, Sam went out into the dewy morning to look over the little herd. Tru accompanied him, and as they came to the rail fence that enclosed the nearest pasture, he looked back at the residence and glimpsed Jenny Flynn peeking out a window.

"I thought she didn't want to come," he told Tru.

"That's what she said," Tru insisted. "Maybe she's shy."

Shy? Sam turned his attention to the horses. He was glad his sister had come along. No one but Tru or Lame Wolf could possibly understand this bittersweet feeling coming over him, this love-hate relationship with horseflesh that had its roots deep in their childhood on the Kirk ranch.

His eyes singled out a sturdy yearling colt with the gray and white markings of an Appaloosa.

"That's War Paint," Tru said, "out of Lame Wolf's stallion, Warrior."

Sam felt his jaw clenching as old memories stirred. The grandson of War Cloud, Dad's prize stallion—here it stands, right in front of us, while Dad is…

Tru sighed loudly and touched his shoulder. "It's his loss, Sam. He's the one missing out."

Staring at the horse, Sam nodded. "Yeah." That was the only way to deal with the situation. Think of his loss. Out there, chasing some damned Nexus fantasy while his grandchildren were getting ready to have children of their own...

Snapping out of his mood, Sam chose a plain brown mare with mustang blood, and they went riding.

Show off, fumed Jenny as she watched Tru's brother from a window in the kitchen, where she was helping Anika and the cook clean up after breakfast. Lord knows, she always tried to be useful, finding many small ways to earn her salary. She even helped with the horses, loved each and every one, and she did not like seeing them ridden at breakneck speed, the way that cop was doing just now, galloping wildly all over the pasture.

"Will ya look at that!" she declared.

Anika came to the window and actually smiled at the reckless riding. "You can tell Sam grew up on a horse."

"In Chicago?"

"No," Anika said quietly, "on a ranch in Idaho." She went back to her work, strangely silent.

Later, Jenny was alone in the kitchen when Sam burst in, smelling of horse sweat, and stepped into the industrial refrigerator as if it belonged to him. Swiping an apple, he came up from behind and crunched away, watching her mix a great bowl of sautéed onions, black olives, and grated cheese.

"Enchiladas?" he guessed with all the eagerness of a hungry boy.

"And what else would it be," Jenny answered tartly, not intending to look at him, but finding her eyes drawn to his roguish smile. Pushing a lock of dark hair off her forehead, she resolutely turned back to the bowl. "Special ordered by Tru herself—enchiladas like your mither makes." And she thought, If it's your mither's food you're wantin', why not take yourself home to her!

A warm hand touched her shoulder and Jenny froze, her heart pounding with a sudden, reflexive fear. Lord help her, it was just the two of them in this great big kitchen.

All but trembling, she snapped, "Let go of me!"

His hand left her. In a soft, baffled tone he said, "I'm sorry…I only meant to…to thank you."

Jenny swung around and glared at him, standing so handsome with his strong, solid build. Though he was no longer wearing a uniform, in her mind's eye she could still see it, and there was no holding back the angry rush of words. "I don't have much likin' for cops, if it's alright with you. The uniform, that's what does it. It changes people, and not for the better. It gives them a feelin' of power, and the next thing ya know, you're startin' to swagger and throw your weight around. Oh, you think you're a big man—a big city cop. Well, and I'll tell ya what a real man is, and it's not a bully. A real man is gentle and strong and good. A real man's not afraid to get down on his knees before his God…and…and…" To her everlasting horror, she broke into tears and fled out the service door.

oooo

The enchiladas were a big hit with the boys, and Sam ate his share with plenty of Spanish rice, frijoles, and green bean salad. Jenny sat at a different table and kept her attention on her plate, never catching the wary glances Sam occasionally sent her way. The girl was a complete mystery to him, sitting there, slim and pretty in her Dreamcatcher staff shirt. What had he done to incur her wrath? For heaven's sake, he had only touched her—more or less platonically. Most of the women he knew would have welcomed it, and a helluva lot more.

After dinner, the boys headed outside for some baseball and Sam decided to join them, passing Jenny along the way. Though he flashed her his most winning smile, her green eyes scorned him. Sam stopped short, frowning in puzzlement, before moving on.

oooo

With her chores done, Jenny went out on the front porch and sat beside Tru and her husband, Lame Wolf. The Vulcan-looking Jamie and his human wife Anika were over at the sports field supervising the youngsters. From her seat, Jenny had a clear view of the baseball game. As the western sky reddened, bats cracked loudly and the boys jumped from benches to cheer their teams on. It irked her to see Sam take a turn at bat, as if he were just another one of the kids. And all the while, she kept waiting for Tru to mention her tirade in the kitchen, for surely Sam had gone running to her.

Lame Wolf left them and went over to the barn. He was barely out of sight before Tru leaned toward Jenny and said, "Sam's awfully good with the boys, isn't he?"

So this was it. Jenny felt herself reddening. "I don't care what he said to you, I won't apologize—even if it means…"

Tru twisted in her chair and gaped at Jenny. "Apologize? What in the world are you talking about?"

Jenny squirmed. Now she had gone and done it, with her outspoken ways. Would she never learn to hold her tongue? "Ya mean…he…your brother…he didn't tell ya?"

"Tell me what?"

Mortified, Jenny turned her face to the setting sun. "Nothin'. It's really nothin' atall." Quickly excusing herself for the evening, she trotted off to the little priest's cottage that now served as her housing. Oh, how she wished Phineas was still with her, but living here by the chapel made him seem a bit closer, as near as the Good Shepherd, for whom the chapel was named.

oooo

At Sunday morning breakfast, Jenny boldly sat across from Sam, and her cold disapproving glances made the French toast and sausage sour in his stomach. She did not have to say a word, for he already knew what she was thinking. More special orders—just look at the way Tru babies him.

Turning to his sister, he said under his breath, "Tru, really, you don't have to make all my favorite foods."

Right there in front of Jenny, Tru caught him by the neck and kissed his cheek, leaving a lipstick smear. "You want to take away my fun?" She laughed. "Sam, I don't see you that often."

Jenny's fiery gaze bored into him, and her voice was as smooth as silk. "This week, it'll be barbecued chicken, if the weather holds. And potato salad—the kind ya like best, with wee little bits o' dill pickle. Isn't that so, Tru?"

No doubt sensing the tension, Tru gave them both a searching look.

Sam was glad it was Sunday, for he needed some priestly guidance. There had never been a woman he couldn't charm, one way or the other. This Jenny Flynn made him feel helpless and perplexed. Somehow, they had started out on the wrong foot. She had mistaken him for a spoiled bully and wouldn't let him forget it.

As the time for Mass drew near, he slipped into the chapel to await the priest's arrival. No sooner had he genuflected and knelt in a back pew, than an angelic young woman entered the sanctuary. Distracted from his prayers, Sam watched her dress sway as she placed fresh flowers on the altar and reverently set out the sacred vessels for Mass. Hard to believe that sweet vision was Jenny! So she was taking care of her uncle's church now, and judging by the contentment on her face, she enjoyed it.

Jenny finished her task and came walking down the aisle. She was passing by Sam when she noticed him. Her gait faltered and the angelic spell broke. Openly scowling at him, she rushed on by, leaving a cool, fragrant wake behind her.

Sam was first in line at the confessional. Back home he had slipped with Flo, letting his hormones get the best of him, yet again. It was a decidedly awkward moment to bring up his problem with Jenny. But he needed to confide in someone.

After hearing the story, the priest said, "It seems clear enough. A nice, decent girl who doesn't like policemen...so I suggest you stay out of her way." It felt like a slap, and no wonder, considering what Sam had just confessed.

"But Father," Sam argued, "I…I'm trying to be nice to her, that's all. She's so different from the other women I've known. And I just want to know her better!" The wrenching force of the admission surprised even him.

The priest took a moment to think it over. "So that's how it is. Well then, if your intentions are honorable, be patient for once in your life. Maybe, in time, she'll come to see your finer qualities."

Sam's heart raced as he leaned closer. "But Father, I've only got a few days."

The priest gave him absolution and a blessing, but when it came to Jenny Flynn, Sam was on his own.

oooo

Jenny held off entering the chapel until Mass began. Sam had stolen her customary place beside Tru, but there was still a spot next to him, and knowing Tru, she would surely invite Jenny to sit there. The members of the staff always kept toward the rear of the chapel, where they could keep track of the boys. But there remained a couple of vacant pews farther back, and the priest was at the altar when Jenny slipped into one of them. She did not want to sit any place where Sam could set his devilish eyes on her. Hard to believe, him being Catholic; she'd had no idea. Of course, Tru was Catholic, so it made sense that her brother might be, too. But a lot of cradle Catholics stopped practicing the faith when they grew up and left home. She had even seen it happen in her own family, back in Ireland. All during Mass, her attention kept straying to the wavy hair on Sam's bowed head. Seeing him praying so devoutly, Jenny was reminded of her judgmental words in the kitchen. "A real man's not afraid to get down on his knees before his God…" Feeling embarrassed and defensive, she mentally countered, Who's to say this isn't just an act, getting in good with his sister?

But Sam had been alone in the chapel before Mass.

Back and forth, Jenny kept arguing with herself, getting nowhere. As they lined up for Communion, she tried to calm her turbulent emotions, but even at that holy moment, she could not get Sam off her mind. Catholic or not, he was still a cop.

oooo

Early next morning, Jenny set to work in the flowerbed that ran the length of the porch. As she was weeding the petunias, she heard footsteps and glanced up, only to find Sam sitting there on the porch, bigger than life, his shoes propped on an empty chair. He didn't seem to notice her down among the flowers.

Glowering up at him, she wiped a dirty streak across her forehead and stood. "Sure, and ya do make yourself at home, don't ya?"

Sam gave a start and quickly took his feet down. Before he could say anything to her, the front door opened.

Tru came out with a cup of coffee and drew a deep breath of spring air. Looking at the two of them, she said, "Jenny, the boys can do that, later; you've been working too hard. Tell you what. This morning, I'll be busy teaching art…so why don't the two of you ride up to that high meadow we found the other day. You know the one, Jenny…where I was sketching the wildflowers? Show it to Sam and take a picnic lunch."

Every inch of Jenny rebelled at the idea. It was just like Tru, sending them off to settle the trouble between them. Well, Jenny had no intention of going anywhere with Sam the cop. She was opening her mouth to protest when she got an interesting idea of her own. So, it was a tour Sam needed. Well, why not? She'd take him on a fine trip, alright.

Turning to Sam, she forced a smile that showed her dimples nicely. "Oh yes, a picnic—'twould be just lovely."

Sam had his mustang saddled by the time Jenny cleaned up and came into the barn with the lunch Tru prepared for them.

Jenny tossed the packet of food into his hands. "See if ya can squeeze that into a saddlebag. Lord, the way she feeds ya, you'll be gettin' thick around the middle, bustin' outa your pretty little uniform." She turned her baleful gaze on the mustang. "You're ridin' that skittish beast?"

It seemed that Sam was determined to steer clear of argument and make the most of their morning together. With an easygoing smile he said, "Don't worry, Jenny…I like spirit." He ignored her hard look and added, "Just tell me which horse you want, and I'll…"

Briskly passing him by, she strode to a stall, bridled a little brown Appaloosa, and saddled it herself. Without a word, she mounted and cantered off toward the hills.

Jenny kept the lead, coldly cutting off Sam's every attempt at conversation as the horses walked an open forest trail. There were two ways up to the meadow, and before long she would have to choose between them. It would have felt good just riding under the warm cloudless sky, if he weren't along, filling her head with troubling thoughts.

The ground was rising quickly, and it came time to make her choice. Looking around, Jenny drew back on the reins and Sam pulled up beside her.

The sun sparked red highlights in his tousled hair as he gave that devilish smile of his. "What's the matter, Jenny? Are you lost?"

That settled it. Wheeling her horse to the right, Jenny dug in her heels. The sure-footed Appaloosa exploded up the mountainside. Just over the crest, she slowed onto a narrow game trail that skirted a deep ravine. The treacherous path seemed better suited for a mule as it snaked back and forth, rising and falling precipitously. Behind her, loose stones clattered and Sam's horse snorted in fear.

Jenny recalled Tru's recent warning as she glanced back at him. Never take the right-hand trail, it's much too dangerous. Sam was coming along steadily, his face grim with concentration as he fought to control his mount. So you're not smilin' now, she thought with some satisfaction, but an undercurrent of worry threatened to spoil it. Why should she fret? Big city cop, expert horseman…

She could not resist mocking him. "What's the matter, Sam? Are ya scared?"

He flashed her a sickly smile, and she urged her horse onward. Two steps, three…and there was a sliding sound behind her, the crack of underbrush, a mustang's scream. With a sick feeling, Jenny stopped and turned around in the saddle. Sam and his horse were gone. The damp trail showed scrape marks leading down into the ravine.

Panicking, she hollered, "Sam!"

From somewhere below she heard a horse struggling. Then Sam's weak voice came to her. "Down here..."

With not an inch to spare, Jenny dismounted and peered over the edge. Sam lay at the base of the ravine. She could just make out his face, and the bright red blood on it made her heart seize. "Don't try and move!" she warned. "I'm callin' for help on my wrist phone!"

That done, she shouted, "An emergency team is comin'! You okay, Sam?"

"My head…"

"Your sister will be hoppin' mad," she said, and confessed, "'Twas the other trail she meant for me to take—the good safe one." The day had turned so deathly quiet that Jenny could hear the pounding of her heart. "Sam…? Sam, are ya still with me?"

At last he spoke. "Tru knows what I'm like—always out for adventure. I just wouldn't listen to you, would I?"

Confused, Jenny stared down at him. "What do ya mean? It was my idea to…" Suddenly she realized that he meant to shift the blame to himself. "Oh, no ya don't. Sam, I…"

The hum of a transporter beam silenced her.

oooo

Sam's bleeding was quickly staunched at the regional hospital, where Tru hurried to his side. Though the fall had banged him up, no bones were broken. That very day, he limped back into the Dreamcatcher residence, anxious to hear how the mustang was faring. And he was more than a little worried about Jenny, too.

Anika, who was a licensed veterinarian, met them as they came in. "Other than a few stone gashes, the horse is fine. I'd say you're both lucky to be alive."

"Isn't that the truth," Tru said with feeling. She escorted her brother to his room, where she made sure he followed doctor's orders and lay down.

Sam had no intention of objecting. The first dose of endorphin stimulator was wearing off, and every inch of his body hurt.

Tru hovered over him like the proverbial mother hen, making sure he was settled in comfortably. "I'll bring you a nice cold drink. Can you eat something?"

He shook his head carefully. "No, thanks."

"Are you sure? A little soup, maybe?"

Just now, Sam had no appetite. There was only one thing on his mind. "Where's Jenny?"

Tru's shoulders slumped, and she sat down beside him on the bed. "What good is she, if we can't depend on her? It might have been one of our boys out there, instead of you. But I hate to let her go…"

Sam started to rear up, but a sharp stab in his back soon returned him to his pillow. "But Tru…didn't she tell you? Taking that trail was my idea."

Tru's loving eyes searched him and she smiled sadly. "Sam, you're a rotten liar."

As usual, his big sister saw right through him, but Sam refused to give up. "Alright then, but I had it coming."

Tru sighed. "Do you think I'm blind? This past year, Jenny's let slip enough comments about 'cops'. I'd hoped that meeting you would help her get over her prejudice. Guess I was wrong."

Sam thought back to those painful minutes in the ravine after he had fallen. Surely he had not imagined the deep note of concern in Jenny's voice, calling down to him. You okay, Sam? Sam, are ya still with me?

His heart warmed at the memory. "Sis, something happened up there…"

"It certainly did," Tru remarked, "and she's going to answer for it."

oooo

Jenny was under strict orders to stay away from Sam until the staff decided her fate, and for now that was just fine with her. Every time she thought back to his fall, her emotions tumbled right along with him. Thank the Lord he wasn't hurt badly…and it was awfully kind, him offering to take the blame—not the sort of thing she would ever have expected from a cop. Maybe, just maybe, Sam was different. And here she was, about to be sent away in disgrace. Wouldn't you know it? Not that she could argue with such a verdict, for it was a sin she committed up on that mountain, a dark and terrible sin. Sam could have died.

As she went about her chores, the shame worked on her until she could bear it no longer. Seeking out Tru, she said, "This staff meetin' that you're havin', with the whole bunch of ya altogether…well, I'll save ya the trouble." Though she held her head proudly, she was trembling inside. "No need to worry about firin' me. I'll be leavin' soon enough, on my own—if the nuns will have me."

Tru's eyes opened wide. "Nuns?"

"I've decided to join the Daughters of St. Joseph, like my cousin Kate. They look after priests, and the money Uncle Phineas gave me will make a fittin' dowry."

oooo

It seemed to Sam that Jenny had gone back to avoiding him. Now that he was getting around again, he kept trying to steal a moment alone with her, but each time she slipped away. He could hardly believe she was going to enter a convent! Somehow that hot temper and those alluring dimples did not fit his image of a nun. He had never met anyone quite like Jenny Flynn, and it pained him to think of losing her.

Between Sam's injury and a run of foul weather, the promised barbecue was postponed until the day of his departure. By noon, the clouds broke up. School let out, and the boys ran free in the sunshine while Jamie and Lame Wolf readied the barbecue pit near the barn. Sam helped and before long, clouds of smoke carried the mouthwatering aroma of grilling chicken. Though he kept watching for Jenny, she never stepped foot out of the kitchen.

When the chicken was cooked to perfection, they all went indoors to eat. Once again, Sam found himself at a different table than Jenny, seated in such a way that he could not even look at her. Knowing that he might never see her again made the potato salad stick in his throat. He pictured her helping prepare it, bits of dill pickle and all. Did she still distrust him because he worked in law enforcement? Was that why she was hiding herself…and heading off to a convent without even saying goodbye?

Desperate to know, Sam got up the minute dinner was over and followed Jenny right into the kitchen. She turned and when she saw him standing there, her whole face went rosy.

"I'll be leaving in an hour," he said. "Can you come outside? We need to talk."

Her eyes skittered away nervously and she busied herself with some dirty dishes. "I've got my duties…and…and I'm not supposed to associate with ya."

So that explained it. The staff was trying to keep them apart. "Never mind that," Sam said, and assured her, "I'll clear it with Tru. Come on."

Her hands went still. Without looking at him, she said, "If it's an apology you're wantin'…I'm sorry…dreadful sorry for what I did."

"Apology accepted, but that's not why I'm here." With all his heart, he said, "Jenny, please…"

Slowly she undid her work apron and accompanied him out the service door. Sam's pulse raced as they walked side by side to the apple orchard. The air was fragrant with blossoms. At each stirring of the breeze, pink and white petals drifted like snow.

Sam stopped and gently plucked a petal from Jenny's dark hair. Her gaze settled on the ground, her full mouth trembling with some unnamed emotion.

He had to ask her, "Do you hate me?"

She slowly shook her head from side to side.

Encouraged, he said tenderly, "Is it true what I hear…about you going with the nuns?" She nodded and Sam felt a deep inner stabbing. "I was hoping it wasn't true. I was hoping that maybe…just maybe…you might give this big city cop a little more time."

Her eyes rose to meet his, warm and green as shamrocks in the Irish sun. And she said, "Y'know, I've niver even heard your last name, and I've been wonderin'…"

Sam hesitated, as he often did before speaking his surname. "Kirk. Sam Kirk." He could tell by her expression that she wasn't connecting the name to his famous father, and was relieved.

"Tis a fine Scottish name," she said.

He ventured a smile and she shyly returned it. They walked along, quietly talking, until the golden hour was over.

Once again, Sam turned toward her, only this time he held out his hand. "I have to go now. Tell me you'll be here when I come back."

Studying his proffered hand, she said, "And just when might that be, Sam Kirk?"

"Next week…if you're still here."

Her cheeks dimpled. Then reaching out, she gently placed her hand in his.