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“Whatever it was you found,” Finn began, interrupting the argument, “be it shamrock or four-leaf clover, you can count yourself lucky. Every leaf represents somethin’. Faith, love, and hope. Findin’ a fourth is known to bring you good fortune, as the fourth leaf represents luck. However…” He paused, rummaging around in his pants’ pocket, “accordin’ to me gran, three-leaf clovers are better because they represent the Holy Trinity. She gives me one at the start of every journey and insists I keep it with me.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small plastic bag holding a slightly wilted three-leaf clover, raising it higher for Maisie and the other women to see.

“She claims it keeps me honest, but I’ve never seen any evidence of that.” He glanced at Maisie and delivered a wink.

Maisie wasn’t sure how to respond—to the wink and to the fact that Finn dutifully carried around a token from his grandma in his pocket. Could this guy be any sweeter?

“Perhaps I ought to do that for my own grandson,” Joyce mumbled. “That boy has been through more Sunday school teachers than we can count.”

“Trifle, no,” Renee whispered, interrupting the conversation. She looked up at the eyes on her and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what has gotten into her.”

Maisie wasn’t certain why Renee was apologizing, but when she heard the faintest growl coming from the dog, she stared at the fluffy white creature, too.

“She just hasn’t been herself all day,” Renee said, her wrinkled brow wrinkling further, “from the moment we stepped on the bus.”

“You worry too much, Renee,” Joyce said. “I’m sure she just needs time to adjust.”

But Renee shook her head. “No. No, something is upsetting her.”

“Maybe a good walk in the mud would do her right,” Finn suggested.

Renee looked positively aghast at the very idea. “Oh, no. Trifle dislikes getting her white coat dirty.”

“Perhaps she ought to take a few pointers from Maisie here,” Finn offered next. “I reckon she knows how to be rid of a mud stain.”

He tossed her a teasing smile over his shoulder as he approached the dog. “Right. Now, Trifle. Houl yer whisht, will you?”

He reached forward, moving to pet the dog’s fluffy coat, but Trifle’s growling grew louder, and Finn pulled back. Instantly, Trifle quieted down.

Finn eyed the dog. “I don’t know how I feel about that,” he mumbled.

“Trifle,” Renee gently chastised, “that is no way to treat the man who was kind enough to allow you on his bus.” She looked up apologetically at Finn. “I really am so sorry. I’m sure she’ll be fine now. She was just startled. You can try to pet her again.”

But as Finn moved forward, once more, Trifle growled.

Finn frowned. “Right, it can’t be just me.” He motioned for Maisie to try. “Go on, you.”

The last thing Maisie wanted was to be growled at by a dog, but at this rate, she would do whatever Finn asked her to do.

She moved forward and, with Renee’s encouraging nod, pet Trifle. Not only did the dog cease her growls, but she also gave Maisie an affectionate lick on her fingertips.

Maisie looked back at Finn with an innocent expression. “You know, Finn, I think it is just you.”

Finn pulled his lips into a thin line. “How very unoriginal. An English dog not likin’ a Norn Irishman.”

Everyone laughed, and as Finn’s eyes met Maisie’s, lingering a moment longer than on anyone else, her breath caught in her throat.

Yeah, this Finn was a flirt. And Maisie was falling for it hard.

The last half of the walk to Cranny Falls was as enjoyable as the first half, the addition of the English ladies and Trifle—who hadn’t stopped growling at Finn whenever he was in her line of sight—being the cause.

For Maisie, being alone on this trip was a difficult line to tread. She didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to walk with her, nor did she want to impose on anyone else’s vacation. But she couldn’t deny how grateful she was to have made new friends to walk with and to share in the enjoyment of the beauty around her.

As they traveled higher up the trail, the grass shifted to an even deeper shade of green, and the slivers of limestone rocks bulging from the ground soon disappeared as cliffs, towering trees, and a slow, babbling brook took their places.

The rain had picked up again, and Maisie lifted her umbrella just as Finn was pulled aside by the couple who had been seated next to Maisie on the bus—their German accents thick as they asked Finn for details about the waterfall.

The second Finn left her side, disappointment pulled at her spirits, but she quickly sent the feeling away. As much as she’d enjoyed the company of those around her, she wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity she had now to be by herself. To have time to think, to feel, to breathe in and process where she was.