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The following year, Mairin made her traditional visit to the Falls with her brother and his girlfriend, Barb. Liam had met

Barb at RIT—the Rochester Institute of Technology, where they were both premed students. She knew they were serious, because

Liam had decided to get an apartment close to campus—and close to Barb—in the coming year.

He and Mairin no longer worried about their mother’s safety. The Church had finally done something good for Deirdre O’Hara.

She had been granted an annulment based on the fact that she and Colm weren’t able to have children. She didn’t have to lose

face with her friends in the Church. The only thing she lost was a man who didn’t deserve to be her husband.

Mam seemed softer and more mellow these days, content to have her children home with her. The settlement money from Dad’s

accident didn’t make her wealthy by any means, but it eased the burden of her worries. Mairin would never say as much to her

mother, but she thought Mam was obviously much happier knowing Colm wasn’t coming back.

In 1973, Mairin celebrated at the Falls with Fiona and Flynn Gallagher.

Fiona knew there was a mutual attraction between them, but it was a slow burn, and she encouraged them.

But Mairin knew that she needed to trust her own feelings.

The Good Shepherd had messed her up so bad, she didn’t know how to listen to herself.

She thought about telling Flynn why she absolutely had to be at the Tesla statue precisely at noon, but decided against it. She just didn’t have the words.

The Fourth was the first day Mairin had taken off in months, because Mr. Eisman had put her in charge of organic practices

for some of his acreage, and it had turned into an all-consuming project. He’d also trusted her to hire workers when they

were needed, and she made a project of finding girls who were lost—the ones who hung around the bus station or the lakefront

docks, girls who needed a helping hand. Although Mairin herself was just twenty, she had a way of sensing when someone was

in trouble.

The Paris Peace Accords removed the United States from the conflict in Vietnam. The patriotic songs were louder, the protests

quieter. Mairin took pictures with her new Instamatic camera. As they watched the West Point marching band, Fiona gave Mairin

a nudge. “Look who just showed up.”

Mairin shaded her eyes and turned, and her heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Fiona and Flynn. “I’ll be right back,” she

said, and wove a path through the crowd.

She stopped a few feet from him, a man with long hair curling over his collar, a mustache and goatee, a tie-dye band around

his forehead, and aviator sunglasses. “Kevin Doyle,” she said.

He turned to her, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Mairin O’Hara. It’s been a while.”

For an awkward moment, she didn’t know what to do, so she stuck out her hand to shake his. More awkwardness—his right hand

and forearm bore shiny scars that looked like he’d been burned.

“I heard you were in the army,” she said.

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Are you...” Are you all right? So many of the boys who came back were not. Her own brother waged a constant battle with nightmares and flashbacks. “How

are you?” she amended.

“Glad to be home in one piece, that’s how.” He showed her his arm. “Had an accident while I was in country. You weren’t there

to put out the fire that time.” He grinned to show he was joking.

“Oh, Kevin. I wish I had been. What’s next for you?”

His grin turned thoughtful. “I’m going to seminary school in East Aurora.”

“Seriously? You’re going to be a priest?”

“That’s the plan. I thought about studying law. Either way, it’s all about dealing with people’s sins. How about yourself,

Mairin? What’s next for you?”

She paused, then said the most honest thing that came to mind. “I’m still trying to work that out.”

Mairin was not surprised when no one showed up the subsequent year. By now she knew that work and time and priorities could

get in the way of the best intentions. She also allowed that maybe the others were reluctant to see each other again. Life

had swept them down different paths, as life had a habit of doing. This year was particularly disappointing because Mairin

was bursting with news.

She milled around the statue, listening to Dionne Warwick’s “Then Came You” blaring from a set of loudspeakers. She did her

usual crowd-scanning. She waved to Roy and Shirley Barrett, their little towheaded daughter swinging from their hands between

them as they watched a juggling clown. The Barretts had a maple farm upstate, and they supplied Eisman’s with syrup. Their

daughter was a handful for the older couple, but they clearly adored her.

She was about to go over and say hello when someone spoke behind her.

“I’d know that curly red hair anywhere,” the voice called over the roar of the Falls and the blaring music.

Mairin whirled around and came face-to-face with Angela Denny. She looked more beautiful than ever in a red miniskirt and

white peasant top, blond hair flying like a shiny banner.

They hugged and babbled with joy, the words tumbling from them in a cascade like the Falls. “Stop,” Mairin said, laughing.

“I’m so happy, I can’t breathe!”

“Same here.”

They hugged again, then leaned back to stare at each other. Angela smelled of fresh air and sunshine.

“I brought a camera.” Mairin took out her Kodak Instamatic and snapped Angela’s picture. They tried to figure out how to do one together, giggling and probably failing as Mairin held the camera at arm’s length.

“Hey, would you mind taking our picture?” Mairin asked Mr. Barrett, who was still nearby with his family. “This is my old

friend Angela,” she said. “Ang, this is Roy and Shirley Barrett, and their little girl, Everly. They’re our best maple syrup

producers at Eisman’s.”

“Lovely to meet you, dear,” said Mrs. Barrett.

“Likewise.” Angela looked at their little girl, a blond sprite with big blue eyes. “She’s so cute.”

“Thank you. We’re very proud of her.” Mr. Barrett took a couple of shots of Mairin and Angela together.

The little girl broke away and rushed into the picture as the shutter went off. “Everly, come to Mama!” called Mrs. Barrett.

The child offered one last cherubic smile and a giggle, then rejoined her parents. Mr. Barrett took another picture and handed

back the camera. “You girls have fun today.”

Breathless and animated, Mairin and Angela rushed away from the crowd, eager to catch up. “This is the first year I was able

to come,” Angela said. “It’s been hard to get away. School and work...”

“You’re here now.” Mairin was practically giddy with delight. “You look wonderful. Tell me everything. Are you doing all right?”

“I’m in college, can you believe it?”

“College!”

“Over in Geneseo. I’m going to be a librarian,” Angela said. “I’ll be starting my first full-time job at the main branch in

Buffalo.”

“A librarian,” Mairin said. “That’s perfect.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been working since I got out. I was never much for school, but I’ve been taking courses in organic farm practices.”

“And that,” Angela said, her eyes sparkling, “is also perfect.”

They smiled at each other and marveled at how very much the same they looked and sounded, and how utterly different they actually

were.

“No word from anyone else?” Angela asked her.

Mairin shook her head. “I feel terrible about how it all fell apart that day. I’m so glad you’re all right. Tell me everything, starting with us ditching the van.”

“I went to my friend Tanya’s house. Her parents were cool, and they let me stay awhile. I got a job working at the General

Mills factory that year, making Cheerios.” She caught Mairin’s look. “Yep, I came home every day smelling of Cheerios.”

“Better than smelling like bleach and Borax.” Mairin made a face.

“True. Tanya went away to college, and I stayed with Miss Adler—Rachel Adler, the librarian at the Jefferson Branch. She made

anything seem possible.”

“Even college.” Mairin sighed. “I keep wondering about the others. I just hope they managed to get away.”

Angela shook her head. “It was in the paper. You didn’t see it?”

“What? No?”

Angela nodded. “The very day of the escape, it came out in the evening paper.”

“I had no idea. What did it say?”

“Almost nothing. There was a bit that said three girls were captured—”

“Three!” Mairin’s heart sank. “Which three?”

“There were no names. But the report also said one of the three got away. The other two were returned to the Good Shepherd.”

“And they didn’t say which two.” Mairin shook her head. “I’d love to know what became of the money I took from the nuns,”

she added. “What a fiasco. Having the cash would have made things a lot easier.” She noticed a shift in Angela’s expression.

“What?”

Angela’s face paled, and she twisted her fingers into knots. “Mairin, I took the money.”

“What?”

“I grabbed the laundry bag as we were all running away. I felt like the worst kind of thief.”

“ I was the thief,” Mairin said.

“You stole from thieves, but we were all supposed to share the money. I wish I could have found everyone so we could have shared it like we planned, but I was so scared of getting caught. I had to be so careful. I knew the nuns wouldn’t ask for it back because they couldn’t admit they had it.

But it still felt risky.” Angela stared at the ground.

“It’s gone now, Mairin. I’m so ashamed. I used some of it to live on when my gran wouldn’t have me back, and the rest was for school. Oh, Mairin.”

Mairin sensed her friend’s wrenching pain. “Angela. It’s okay. I swear it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I feel so guilty.”

“Stop,” Mairin said. “You were the one who suffered the most. We all know that. If that money helped you even a little bit,

then I’m glad you ended up with it.”

“Well, now that we’ve found each other, I’m going to pay you back,” Angela said resolutely.