"I think I'll stay home."

Sean lifted his face off the pillow. "What are you talking about?"

"Boy Scout camp. I think I won't go."

Sean twisted and groaned, hoisting himself up to a sitting position. "And you're telling me at such an ungodly hour, why?"

"It's nine-thirty. You have to call Mr. Quentzer as soon as possible, since it starts tomorrow."

Sean scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd had a beer last night after the phone call from his father. Okay, maybe two or three. He hadn't been able to sleep, and couldn't stop his brain from spinning around and around on this problem of what to do about Martin Doran, ghost father, recently come to life at the Comfort freaking Inn on Route freaking 9.

"Wait a minute. Back up. Why aren't you going to Boy Scout camp?"

The sleep-blur was starting to clear from his eyes, and Sean saw Kevin biting at the inside of his cheek. "I can't do it. I'm too worried."

"What are you worried about?"

"What if it's not good? What if there's a ton of kids there, and it's like middle school?"

"I told you, I'll come get you."

Kevin looked away and muttered, "What if I cry?"

"Kev, you gotta go. You can't not do stuff because of a bunch of what-ifs."

"That's easy for you. You don't cry."

Hard to argue with that one. Sean scratched his neck and thought for a moment. "Hey, did I tell you I got a tape player? My friend Becky had one. Now you can play your tape."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe if you still like it, you could bring it to camp."

Sean threw on some shorts and a T-shirt while Kevin got the tape from his room. He put the headphones on and adjusted the volume. Sean watched the boy's face pass through a range of expressions: the inner cheek biting stopped, and his eyebrows unfurrowed. His lips parted slightly as a look of recognition spread across his features. Then his eyes rested on Sean. He nodded slowly. "I remember him."

"Remember . . . ?"

"My dad. I didn't think I remembered him, but I do."

Sean didn't know what to say.

"He kinda looked like you, right?" said Kevin. "But his eyes were different."

"They were green. Like yours."

"Yeah!" Kevin nodded. "Like mine . . . I remember." He studied Sean for a moment. "You remember him, too, right?"

"Yeah, Kev," he said, gazing at the boy with his brother's eyes. "I do."

It took all day and several trips to REI, the Scout Store, and Target to get Kevin packed. There always seemed to be one more thing he needed-mosquito netting and sunscreen, hiking boots and official scout socks. They decided that Rebecca's tape player was too big and heavy and bought a compact version.

Kevin's tape was called Sounds of Acadia. It was a series of instrumental pieces put out by Acadia National Park that incorporated the calls of birds and rush of streams, breaking waves and horses' hoof steps. Sean vaguely remembered Hugh talking about camping there once. The tape was old, and Sean worried that it would break in the not-too-distant future. He used Deirdre's laptop to locate the Acadia Web site and called to order another, just in case.

"I'm sorry," said the clerk at the park gift shop. "Your credit card has been declined."

Declined? Sean told her he'd call back and called the credit card company. Apparently he'd maxed out his very low credit limit; all that camping stuff had cost more than he'd realized.

"We can easily raise your limit, Mr. Doran," said the overly helpful customer service rep.

Sean hesitated. The limit was low on purpose-if it was stolen while he was overseas, thieves wouldn't be able to rack up much in charges. But if he didn't raise the limit, he'd have to wait until another payment cleared before he could make any further purchases-including a backup for the all-important Sounds of Acadia tape.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "But not too high."

The customer service rep laughed a little longer than necessary about this. "My goodness!" she said. "Most people want it as high as they can possibly get it!"

"Sorry to disappoint," Sean responded drily.

The next morning Sean made a breakfast of eggs, sausages, and thick slices of toast with jelly. "Are you sure you had enough?" he asked when Kevin laid his fork and knife down.

"Yeah, I'm stuffed."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hungry."

"I'm pretty sure they have food at camp, Uncle Sean. And if they don't, another slice of toast isn't going to help."

Sean laughed. "Stop hovering, is what you're telling me."

"Yeah." Kevin grinned. "Pretty much."

They loaded Kevin's duffel bag into the car, and Kevin said good-bye to Auntie Vivvy and George. He squatted down to scratch behind the dog's ears. "Be good," he told her. "Uncle Sean is the vice prime minister, so let him be the boss." He stood up and addressed Sean. "You'll walk her every day, right?"

"Scout's honor."

"You're not a scout."

"Okay, uncle's honor."

Kevin squinted skeptically.

"I'll walk the dog, Kev, I promise!"

They drove over to the Scout House. The parking lot swarmed with boys. Kevin started to chew the inside of his cheek.

"I think it's going to be okay," Sean told him. "You've got your tape, and there are some good guys here. If you have a problem, talk to Mr. Quentzer."

When they got out of the car, Ivan ran over to show Kevin his new jackknife. Sean hauled the duffel over to the growing pile by Frank Quentzer's SUV. He caught Frank's eye.

"How's he doing?" asked Frank.

"A little nervous. I know the packet said they're not supposed to bring electronics, but he's got this tape he likes . . ."

Frank nodded. "No problem. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him. He'll be fine."

As Sean drove out of the parking lot, he saw Kevin standing with a group of boys, admiring Ivan's jackknife. Kevin glanced up and raised a hand as the Caprice passed. Sean waved back.

As he drove home Sean prayed hard, as hard as he had in a long time. Please let him be okay, please let him have fun, please watch over him and don't let him get overwhelmed or feel sad . . . please. . . .

CHAPTER 30.

Unexpectedly, Deirdre showed up for dinner.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" asked Sean, as he set another place at the table.

"He's been working us so hard," said Deirdre. "He gave us the afternoon off and said we should all go home and relax." She gave a little eye-roll at the ridiculousness of that idea.

Aunt Vivvy sat quietly at the table, gazing out the window. "Windy," she said.

It was, in fact, somewhat more breezy than usual, and the air made the leaves of the red maple in the backyard do a little staccato dance. Sean and Deirdre glanced at each other.

"So . . ." said Sean, ladling chili into Deirdre's bowl. "You feel it's going pretty well?"

"No. It's not. I'm just barely getting in stride, and everyone else has had months to prepare." She stared down at her meal. "I'm the weak link."

"Come on," Sean gently chided. "You've never been weak at anything. You'll do fine."

She glanced up at him. "Don't," she warned.

"Don't what? I'm being supportive."

She snorted derisively. "No, you're being patronizing and clueless. You don't know anything about the pressure I'm under, so don't act like you do."

Sean was slightly stunned by this declaration but recovered quickly. "You're right," he said. "I don't. What I do know is that I've made it possible for you to do nothing but work and rehearse for the past two months. If that comes off as patronizing, I can stop right now."

She glowered at him for a moment, then lifted a spoonful of chili to her mouth and ate. "Pretty good," she said.

Sean nodded, accepting the apology. "In the developing world you get to know your way around a can of beans." He glanced at his aunt, still staring out the window. "I think the chili's cool enough now, Auntie." She looked over at him as if he were speaking another language. He picked up her spoon, handed it to her, and indicated her bowl.

"Ah," she said, nodding, and dipped the spoon in. They ate for some time in silence, Deirdre's gaze unfocused and slightly perturbed-looking.

"Dee," said Sean. "I know it's a bad time to tell you, but there's something I think you should know."

"Oh, God," she said. "What."

"I got a phone call the other night. From Da."

She blinked at him a moment. "Our da?"

Aunt Vivvy looked up from her meal.

"Yeah."

"He's still alive?"

"Apparently. And he wants to see us."

Deirdre shook her head. "No."

"No," Aunt Vivvy echoed. "I won't let him hurt you."

Deirdre squinted at her uncomprehendingly, then turned back to her brother. "I don't even know him," she said. "And I sure as hell don't want to get into it now. You know what this means to me, Sean-I can't afford to lose one ounce of focus." She scooped another spoonful of chili, but set it down in the bowl without eating it. "Are you going to see him?"

"I don't know."

"Why would you? He dumped us."

Sean was reminded that over the years Deirdre had felt the repercussions of that blow more than anyone, raised from early childhood only by their stoic aunt. He glanced at Aunt Vivvy, who was staring out the window again. "Yeah," he said. "And that wasn't exactly agreed upon. Apparently the homeowner never wanted the package."

Deirdre smirked. "And you're just figuring that out now?"

The next day was too quiet, especially since Sean had no interest in being alone with his thoughts and the quandary about his father. Cormac didn't need any help at the Confectionary, and Deirdre had left early for a double shift at the diner. Aunt Vivvy came down for a cup of tea and a piece of toast. She ate silently, then went back to her room for a rest.

Kevin was notably absent.

Sean looked at George and let out a resigned sigh. "Where's your leash?" This caused a surprising round of tail wagging. They were almost out the door when Rebecca called.

"Hey," she said. "I'm about to go for a run-want to join me?"

Sean hung the leash back on its hook, grabbed the car keys, and headed out to meet her at The Pal parking lot by Lake Pequot. When he pulled in, she was a couple of spaces down, wearing a pair of black running shorts and a pale blue tank top. Her hands were pressed against the trunk of her car, one leg behind her to stretch her calf. She switched legs and stretched the other, her movement graceful and decisive.

She looked up when he approached. "I don't run that fast. I hope you don't mind."

"I'm pretty sure my aunt could beat me," he said, "so you're gonna kick my ass."

She smiled at him, mouth lopsided, eyes crinkling unevenly, and he felt a quick little intake of air, as if his oxygen supply wasn't quite prepared for the beauty of her expression.