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Mairin always remembered her promise to the girls of the Good Shepherd on the Fourth of July. The following year, she went

to the Falls with her mother and Liam. Things were better for Mam now that she had the settlement. Liam got a used car and

a part-time job, and he went to school and studied all the time. He didn’t talk about what he’d gone through in Vietnam, but

Mairin noticed that he flinched at loud noises, and he’d started smoking. He went to meetings at the VA, where he spoke with

other guys who’d been in Vietnam. He said it helped to share.

Sometimes Mairin was tempted to tell people what had happened at the Good Shepherd and how it affected her, but she could

never quite find the words. It was impossible to explain to someone who hadn’t been there. But there was no VA program for

girls who had been tormented by nuns. And so, the memories lived inside her like a cold, dark hole of nothingness.

This year on the Fourth, the war protests were louder and the music more angry.

Hair was longer, skirts shorter, and the drugs more plentiful.

Mairin scanned the crowd for hours, but the only familiar face she saw was one from Heyday Farm—Haley Moore.

She was with a guy wearing motorcycle leathers, and she looked different—skinny, with dark circles under her eyes.

She didn’t seem to remember Mairin at all, but offered a brief, slack-mouthed smile.

Mairin wondered if Haley would be surprised to hear that she was seeing Flynn.

They weren’t a couple. They weren’t anything—yet.

But she thought about him all the time. His dreams ran parallel to hers—a farm, a family, a purpose.

A life that felt safe and secure. Even so, Mairin didn’t trust herself to want more.

When she and her family got home that day, a sound of distress came from Mam in the backseat of Liam’s Chevy. An old Nash

Rambler was parked in the driveway.

“It’s Colm,” said Mam.

Liam got out first and strode up the porch steps and went into the house, Mairin and Mam at his heels.

Colm sat on the davenport as if he’d never left, smoking a cigarette and drinking a Genesee beer. He looked older, his thinning

hair stretched across his head, his cheeks sagging. “Deirdre,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette. “I’ve come back to you,

Deirdre.”

“Ah, Colm.” Mam’s face softened briefly, but at the same time, her posture stiffened with wariness. “And there ye are entirely.”

Mairin’s stomach twisted. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming at her mother to throw the guy out.

“I’ve decided to forgive you,” Colm said, steepling his fingers together. “I’m back. Folks at church said you’re doing good

these days.”

“That’s what it’s about, Mam,” Liam said, moving toward Colm. “He’s not here to support you . He’s not that kind of man.”

Someone at church must have mentioned Patrick O’Hara’s settlement, Mairin realized. Due to her father’s accident, her mother

was entitled to a portion of his wages—far more than Colm must be making. “Mam,” she said through her teeth.

“It’ll be good again, Deirdre,” said Colm, ignoring Liam and Mairin and fixing his gaze on their mother. “You’ll see...”

Her mother looked lost and indecisive. Her chin trembled. “Colm, I...”

“I know it’s been hard without me,” Colm said in a gentle tone. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I’m back now, and things

will be better. That’s a promise.”

Mairin and Liam exchanged a glance. She could feel her mother’s tension—the inner battle between the teachings of the Church and her yearning to be free.

“Ah, Colm,” Mam said, holding his gaze with hers.

Mairin held her breath, terrified that her mother would retreat. She could see Liam, frozen, but ready to spring if triggered.

“I made you a promise,” Colm urged. “I swear, everything’ll be all right.”

Mam’s gaze moved over his face, then cut to the cigarette butt smoldering in the ashtray, and the beer bottle leaving a ring

on the coffee table. Then she drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “You’re not welcome here, Colm. You can leave now.”

Mairin nearly melted with relief. And with pride in her mother. She knew how hard it must be for Mam to break free of a lifetime

of habit and stand up to him.

His brows crashed into a frown. “This is my home,” he blustered, surging to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height.

Mairin couldn’t handle it anymore. Just the sight of him dredged up memories. “You heard what my mother said. Get out, Colm.

And stay out.”

“None of your sass,” he said, turning on her, his gaze drifting over her like an insult. “You’ve been nothing but trouble.

Even the Sisters of Charity couldn’t save you.”

Mam planted her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “’Twasn’t Mairin who needed saving, Colm Davis. I wish I’d never

listened to you. I’m done now. Done with you for good, and that’s a fact.”

“Don’t you speak to me like that. You’ll not put me out of my own house,” Colm blustered.

“I will not.” Mam glared at him with fire in her eye. “You’ll walk out under your own steam, and you won’t come back again.”

Colm made fists with both hands. Liam stepped in front of Mam, his demeanor calm but ice-cold. “You heard her. It’s time to

go. Don’t turn this into a fight you can’t win.”

Colm glared at him, seeming to size up the situation. “Useless, skinny bastard,” he said. “I spent years raising you, and

this is the thanks I get?”

“We’ll thank you to leave,” Mairin said, moving in next to Liam. “And don’t come back.”

For a moment, Colm didn’t move. Then his shoulders rounded, and he turned on his heel, stalking out the back door and slamming

it behind him.

Mam was shaking, blinking back tears.

“It’ll be all right,” Liam said. “I’ll call a locksmith first thing in the morning.”