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heart would always belong to Sean, he was lost to her now. Ireland was lost. Home was lost.
    “‘ This is the day which the Lord hath made,’” she whispered as she made for the storage room under the loft. “‘We will rejoice and be glad in it.’”
    Caitrin repeated the verse of Scripture three times more for good measure. She knew she must seek out each day’s joy rather than dwelling in its sorrow. God had given her this life and not another. Wishing would not change her lot. Anger would not change it. And certainly bathing herself in misery would never alter the fact that she lived on the Kansas prairie in a one-room dirt house with seven other people … and not in the O’Casey family’s fine stone cottage on the green sod of Ireland.
    This was the day the Lord had made. He was her strength. And no matter what came her way, she would rejoice and be glad.
    Lifting her chin, Caitrin knocked on the storage room door. “Mr. Cornwall? Are you there?”
    “Depends on who you are.”
    “I’m Caitrin Murphy.”
    “Then I’m here.”
    Relief that he was alive was replaced quickly by irritation. “And did you not promise me you’d be long gone from this place by morning?”
    “Yep.”
    “Then why are you still here?”
    The sound of heavy scraping was followed by the storage room door swinging ajar. Jack Cornwall’s large frame filled the narrow gap. “Mornin’, Sparky,” he said.
    Caitrin glanced at the barn door to make certain none of the O’Tooles had followed her, and then she slipped inside the storage room. “Don’t wish me a good morning, Mr. Cornwall, when you’ve sent the entire household into a flap by leaving your black horse tied outside in broad daylight. Jimmy fears you’ll steal his children away. Sheena dropped the morning’s eggs. In short, the mere thought of your presence has thrown everyone helter-skelter.”
    “What does the thought of my presence mean to you , Miss Murphy?” he asked, his voice low. He leaned his good shoulder against a storage cabinet and studied her up and down. “Wish I’d gone?”
    “Of course I do.” Unwilling to let him see the consternation his appreciative appraisal caused her, Caitrin marched to a corner of the room and began sorting through the stacked tins. “Now you’ll have to wait until tonight to make your escape. And what if Sheena decides to have a look in the storage room? Sure, Jimmy O’Toole will string you up from the barn rafters if you’re discovered. Even now, he and Seth and Mr. Rustemeyer are joining forces to scour the land for you. Why didn’t you go?”
    She turned to find Jack standing barely a heartbeat away. Catching her breath, she focused on the man’s face, truly seeing him for the first time. He had gray eyes—terrible, steely gray eyes, as hard and cold and impenetrable as iron. A strong nose, its bridge slightly bent as though it had been broken once long ago. Cheekbones high and squared. A jaw that might have been carved from solid oak. And a mouth … oh, she hadn’t expected such a mouth …
    “Why didn’t I go?” he repeated.
    She jerked her attention to his eyes. “Yes, why? You’ve caused so much trouble.”
    “No one knows I’m here but you, Miss Murphy.” That mouth tipped up at the right corner in a lazy grin. “Do I cause you trouble?”
    Caitrin hugged her produce basket tightly, willing it to form a protective barrier between them. “You have not answered my question, Mr. Cornwall. Aren’t you well enough to travel? Has your shoulder grown worse? Or did you simply fail to wake before dawn?”
    “The shoulder’s bad,” he said. “I need the rest. But that’s not why I stayed.”
    “Well, are you going to give me an explanation, or am I meant to guess and guess like a child at a riddle game?”
    He smiled outright at that and seated himself on the lid of the pickle barrel that had prevented Jimmy from opening the door earlier that morning.
    “I stayed because of the bandage,”