Page 61 of When the Sky Breaks

“Will I like Islay?” I asked as we sat together, Neal’s thumb tracing absently over my knuckles.

“I’ve never been,” Neal admitted. “My dad just moved up there.”

“So where did you grow up?” I asked. “I’m realizing you have me at a disadvantage. You studied my family. And I barely know where you’re from.”

“And you want to learn now?” Neal asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you need to go sleep?”

“I needed to be out of that room with all of those people,” I replied. “I needed to be somewhere that I could fall asleep on your shoulder and it wouldn’t make a scene. I don’t need to get in bed right now. So talk.”

Neal chuckled but complied.

“I was born in Belfast,” he said. “May of 1734. Mama was from Sicily, grew herbs for perfumiers. Da grew up in Cork—six generations of Stewards. I lived with my da and my aunt until I turned twelve. At the Outer Court in Edinburgh—with your parents. And then, per tradition, he sent me to start studying. I worked at, I don’t know . . . eight or ten different noble households? Mostly healers. Some lower-level diplomats. That kind of thing. All over Europe. Scandinavia was my favorite for what that’s worth. I was in Bratislava before I came to you. And then I got the letter. My da wanted to retire. So I came here. And I met you and I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Siblings?” I asked.

Neal shook his head.

“Does your aunt come with an uncle? Cousins?” I pressed.

“You’re nosy,” Neal laughed.

“You’re my husband,” I replied. “I’m allowed to be nosy.”

“Okay, fine,” Neal said. “Aunt Irene is married. Her husband works with the Courts so he was always traveling. So she lived with me and my dad. She had her son Cavan back in ’13. I was already training by then. Haven’t met him, just sent letters.”

“And your mom?” I asked. I knew. I’d heard from Glen. But I had to hear him say it. “Why have I heard so little about your undoubtedly delightful mother?”

Neal took a deep breath. “My mom died having me.”

I hummed, understanding. Then I tucked myself closer up against him, arms wrapping protectively around my belly.

“You think that’ll happen to me?” I asked without thinking, looking up at him.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Neal replied, kissing my head. “You’re getting that big healthy baby. And you’re gonna watch them grow up. I promise, Sorcha.”

Twenty-Four

Sorcha

We docked in New Orleans at dusk and instantly I knew something was wrong. There was no chatter in the street, no sound of children playing. The dockworkers did their tasks in an eerie silence. The crates and boxes they hauled barely made a sound.

“Never liked it here,” Andrew said, masking discomfort with a veneer of nonchalance. “Gotten worse since the last time I came through.”

“You heading east?” Ansel asked.

Andrew shook his head. “North on the river. Wife and daughter are in Montreal for now. Want to visit with them before I head out for work again. If you need me, they’ll be at that address for at least a year.”

He handed us a few copies of his card. Neal scribbled his father’s cottage on Islay onto the back of one and passed it back.

“We’ll be a few weeks yet,” Ansel said, “but you can reach us there.”

“Andrew?” I asked, hand slipping into my pocket where Milkweed had curled up to nap. He couldn’t come with us. I knew he couldn’t come with us. Neal was right. It was dangerous, inconvenient, immature to even consider. Besides that, jackalopes were native to the American continent—it’d be cruel to drag Milkweed across the ocean to a freezing, wet island with none of his kind.

“Can I help?” Andrew offered.

“Take him,” I said, holding the little jackalope up. He kicked, ears twitching, but didn’t try to get away. “They don’t have them in Europe. He’ll get lonely.”

I kept my voice calm and measured, but I knew Neal could sense the tension in my frame as he slipped his hand in mine and squeezed gently. I didn’t want to do this—not at all. Because inconvenient and dangerous as it was, at least having Milkweed along had brightened things up. And as I glanced around the harbor, I didn’t see many other glimmers of hope or positivity available.