"I have some books if you run out while you're here. Or we have a library in the church."
She tried to imagine what a kid his age might be reading and went with what she'd been immersed in at eleven or twelve. "Got anything on the history of Nova Scotia? Or pirates?"
His grin said she'd hit a bull's-eye. "Both."
"Awesome." She turned back toward land - even Irish genes weren't idiotic enough to stand around on a stormy beach for longer than ten minutes. "I'll be in the parlor later, if you want to come by. I have a book on the Celtic heritage of Cape Breton you might like."
She knew she'd found a kindred spirit when his eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. Which wasn't the answer she'd come to the beach seeking, but it wasn't a message lost on her, either.
Whatever the rocks had in mind, she could find her own reasons for being here.
"Come on." Kevin jogged in place in front of her, clearly not very warm either. "Aaron always has something yummy we can have if we promise not to invade his kitchen for the rest of the day."
Cass snorted. She'd smelled the kitchen on her way out - she wasn't making any such promises.
Time for breakfast number two.
Marcus lined up ingredients on the counter. Flour, sugar, baking powder, one rollaway egg, and cinnamon. Morgan objected fiercely to teething biscuits with no cinnamon.
Five ingredients, and he messed them up infernally often. The last batch had been missing the baking powder. Kevin and Sean reported that they'd survived a hundred-foot toss off a cliff.
Marcus hoped they didn't share that little tidbit with their mother. She wasn't likely to be impressed with their scientific methods. Or perhaps she would - mothers could be proud of the strangest things. He looked over at Morgan, sitting in her high chair playing with ice cubes. "Your Aunt Sophie thinks it's impressive that Adam can take his socks off."
Morgan giggled, as she should - she'd been shedding her own socks since the day she arrived.
"Indeed. I'll be far more impressed when you can keep yours on." Perhaps. He had an odd fondness for her naked toes, although they didn't always smell quite so appealing these days.
Nobody seemed to care, though. All the world loved his daughter. Including, evidently, green-eyed strangers.
Marcus clunked a stainless-steel bowl down on his counter with unnecessary force - and winced at the results. Green eyes weren't worth a headache. "How come she intrigued you so much, hmm, little one?" Morgan wasn't shy, but she'd taken to Cassidy in a way that he'd never seen, her mind full of an odd sense of familiarity.
Fortunately their new arrival had been tolerant of sticky fingers running through her hair. He looked over at his daughter's attempts to stick an ice cube in her own red curls. And stared.
In all the days and hours and months he'd looked at his girl, he'd never once wondered what her mother had looked like.
Until now.
Oh, sweetheart. He kept the words - and the sorrow and guilt of them - contained in his own mind. And leaned over and kissed sweet red fuzz, the lump in his throat big enough to choke them both. "Did your mama have curly hair just like you, lovey?"
Her mind had never held any visuals. But in his heart, it felt right. He brushed a hand over her curls and wished he could be everything to the child they graced.
Morgan put a wet, cold hand on his cheek. "Dadadadadadadada."
He swallowed hard. "Dada" would have to be enough. Moving back to the counter, he got back to the daily business of being a father.
The egg yolk had just landed in a plop on top of the flour when his back door opened, swirling in cold air and one cloak-clad visitor. "Good afternoon to you, nephew. And to you, wee lovely girl." Moira leaned over and kissed Morgan's cheek. "Playing with ice, are you? Not a fire witch, then."
Not a witch at all, as far as anyone could tell. When Morgan had stopped traveling, she'd been left without a stitch of power anyone could detect. Which suited Marcus just fine - she got into more than enough trouble as it was. He turned to put the kettle on.
"No need for that, thank you." Moira put down the hood of her cloak, but didn't take it off. "I'm only staying a minute. I came to deliver a message. There's a big dinner up