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Patrick nodded as he thought through the idea. “I should take her sailing. She’ll understand everything then.”
    Evan grinned. “Brilliant!”
    “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Patty,” Ian said, frowning. “She’s never sailed and—”
    “That’s why I should do it,” Patrick interrupted. “I’ll surprise her and show her how great it really is.”
    “But what if she hates it?” Ian asked.
    “Never happen,” Evan said. “I’ll go along to do the work and Patrick can play skipper.”
    “I am a skipper,” Patrick said drily.
    “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
    “Guys, I really don’t think you should do this.” Ian looked back and forth between them. His dark eyes were worried. “At least don’t spring it on her.”
    “No, Patrick’s right,” Evan said. “It works better if he surprises her. She’ll love it!”
    Patrick ignored his brother and Evan. He wasn’t sure how he felt about becoming a father, but he wasn’t going to let Kate push him aside before he figured it out. He had to change her mind. Taking her sailing was the perfect first step. Perfect.

Chapter Three
    Kate carried her cup of tea out onto the brick patio behind her house. The early-morning air was cool and fresh after the heat and humidity of the previous day. Later, it would be hot, but now the temperature was perfect. She sat on a deck chair and looked at the garden.
    Peeking out from behind the daisies, peonies and petunias were fantastical ceramic creatures sprung from Molly’s fertile imagination. Some of the beasts sported smooth, shining skin in ocher, sienna and russet. Their eyes glinted slyly. Others were rough-hewn and mossy, features grumpy and fierce. Between them, shining spires of red, green, blue and yellow glass—creations from Kate’s studio—spiked skyward. Delicate orbs of lustrous silver and gold glass hung from the branches of the wisteria, catching the light and reflecting it back to the house.
    At the edge of the patio stood several large ceramic pots, also Molly’s handiwork. Crimson geraniums spilled over their sides, spicing the air with scent. Kate took a sip of her tea and savored the morning air. She emptied her mind, trying to concentrate on the whimsical beauty of the garden, but it was no use. All too soon, the pansies and marigolds were overlaid by Patrick Berzani’s angry face. She closed her eyes and sighed.
    As the baby fluttered in her stomach, Kate went over the previous afternoon in her mind. Again. Her argument with Patrick was all she could think about, worry about. The night had been filled with disturbing dreams about him. In one, she and Patrick had soared through the air like eagles. They each held the hand of a tiny baby that squealed and giggled. Kate had felt exhilarated and free. When she turned to her companion, his face had changed, and her brother Danny looked back at her through large, sorrow-filled eyes. The baby’s hand slipped from her grasp and the two figures dropped away from her, falling through the air, becoming smaller and smaller. Kate had tried to scream but couldn’t. She woke with a gasp, her heart pounding. After that, she had given up on sleep and dreams and risen to make tea, hoping a new day would put the old one behind her.
    “Good morning.”
    Kate opened her eyes and looked up to see a tall woman in a bright orange-and-gold caftan step onto the patio. Her wild hair was caught up in a messy bun on the back of her head, tendrils flying and dancing as she moved.
    “Molly! Good morning. When did you get back?”
    “Late last night. I should still be sleeping, but the morning’s too glorious to miss.” The older woman brought her mug to the table and sat across from Kate with a sigh of satisfaction.
    “How did the festival go?”
    “Amazing,” Molly said, excitement lighting her oval, tanned face. “I sold everything! There wasn’t a cup or a vase left at the end.”
    “Fantastic. I’m glad it went so well.”
    “Me, too. It was