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do.”
    â€œCome into town with me to the chemist. We’re out of gauze and disinfectant.”
    Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t need me for that.”
    â€œI do,” he lied. “Da’s not here yet, and the chemist won’t give me the supplies without an order.”
    Jilly tilted her head as if to gauge the validity of his request. Frankie held his breath. All at once, it seemed very important that she come with him.
    She nodded. “All right.”
    He grinned. There was something different about this child. She relaxed him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but for some reason his throat didn’t freeze up around Jilly.
    She smiled and clapped her hands when he pulled his bicycle away from the shed and lifted her up in front of him. She weighed almost nothing, and after an experimental turn around the yard, Frankie found his balance, and they were off.
    Jilly had never ridden sidesaddle on a bicycle before, and Frankie offered no instruction. Reaching behind her back, she gripped the handlebars, braced herself, and held on. Within minutes, she was acclimated to the rhythmic bumping. The wind stung her cheeks and tangled her hair, and when the driver of a huge tractor waved them past, she laughed out loud and unlocked one hand to wave back. Soon she was chattering away as if she’d known Frankie for years, completely undaunted by his silence. She knew he was there behind her, steadily pumping. That was enough.
    The tiny town of Kilvara was nearly five kilometers away. As in most Irish villages, there was only one main road through the center with small shops and houses built up to the street. It was market day, and farmers from all over County Down had brought their sheep in for the auction. The street was a river of white wool, and all traffic had come to a complete and frustrating stop. Frankie pulled up his bicycle, and Jilly hopped off, rubbed her backside, and looked around expectantly. She had never been to town on market day. “It’s really quite nice, isn’t it?” she confided to Frankie. “All the noise and the people and the colors and the lovely smells. Does this happen every Wednesday?”
    â€œAye.” Frankie’s head was reeling. He had never met anyone who talked as much without requiring an answer. She’d commented on the wildflowers, the condition of the road, the tractor, the white aprons covering the haystacks in the fields, the weather, the late-model sports car that had passed them on the road, the feel of the sun on her face, and, most unusual of all, she required nothing of him except his presence. It was as if they’d come to a mutual understanding. He would do whatever needed to be done, and she would provide the entertainment.
    Frankie grinned. She was an entertaining little thing, with her quaint observations, her lack of self-consciousness, and her wide hazel eyes. He felt as if he’d known her forever. “Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “We’ll leave the bike and wade through the sheep to the chemist. Hold on tight, and don’t let ’em knock you down.”
    All of which was more easily said than done. Frankie’s hand was a lifeline to which Jilly clung at all costs. At any moment, she felt that her arm would be ripped from its socket as she bumped and shoved her way through the moist, scratchy bodies of mewling sheep. Urea fumes crawled up her nose and stung her watery eyes. Bodies stepped on her toes and knocked against her, throwing her over woolly, wriggling backs. Each time she stumbled, Frankie tightened his grip, lifting her to her feet, pulling her along, until the next time. It seemed a lifetime before she was on the other side of Kilvara’s narrow main road. Panting, she swayed slightly and wiped her sweaty forehead. As if he’d done it every day of his life, Frankie’s arm curved around her back. She sagged against him, grateful for the