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this time she had the patience to actually look at him.
    He must have spent the evening hidden in the shadows, for had he been a part of the party he would have certainly been noticed. His hair was cut short though unkempt, surrounding a square and unreadable , unremarkable face, though he stood easily a head above most of the gathering. It was his eyes, she decided, black as his hair and now trained upon her, which refused to be ignored. So different were they now than on the street before, with fresh intensity and sorrow. There was something almost familiar about this strange man’s face, veiled to her memories .
    The Brit on the street…
    How could she not have seen it sooner? Such a blend of indignation and surprise stole her ability to move. A good angry part of her would have liked nothing better than to stalk up to the man and give him a piece of her mind. Yet the longer she stared the more she found herself thinking of things she would rather not…of her dead parents, of mysterious letters and interweaving Celtic knots. She felt the pain of past wounds she had struggled so long to quench and patch over with stories and success.
    Black orbs trained upon her, his expression never wavered but drew her in , moth to flame.
    She jumped when a pair of excited hands grasped her shoulders mid-step.
    “Amie! Did you see that? Please tell me you saw that!”
    In one instant she felt the world shift, then time rush to catch up. The song had ended and people were making their way to their amassed vehicles. Faye’s golden face was smiling before her and the bold familiar eyes had disappeared.
    “What?” Amie struggled to focus.
    Faye sighed from struggling to rein her excitement in . “Ah, the hotter - than - hot guy who just asked me out on a date tomorrow night?”
    Amie grinned and found herself beginning to forget the dark eyes and the unpleasant memories they had stirred. “I always told you you’d end up with a doctor.”
    “O-M-G! Amie, don’t joke at a time like this!”
    “Are y’all talking about that terrorist again?” James’ tall figure interrupted their feminine babble.
    “Shut up , James!” Faye practically roared in her frustration. “He is not a terrorist! He’s English!”
    “ It ’s where the best of them hide out , you know.”
    “You better watch yourself when you’re talking about my future husband!”
    Amie shook her head, knowing where this old argument was headed. Jo, Amie noted, was already rushing about the old barn to get a head - start on cleanup.
    James loved it. “Bring it on , string bean!” Faye began to play-punch the much bigger cowboy between them. James chuckled while holding off Faye’s assault.
    Amie watched until her friends started attracting curious eyes. Faye m ight not mind so much now, but she would later. “Okay , guys, you can fight later,” Amie interrupted . “We should go help Jo.”
    Even though Amie was able to keep the rest of their night focused on Faye’s stories of Darfur and other travels, she knew they hadn’t forgotten about the key in her pocket or the stranger. At least, for now, she could pretend she wasn’t the chick whose parents were killed by a mysterious car crash. She could forget the fact her father had owed some serious debts at the time of their deaths. And she cou ld almost pretend life was as simple as it had been when they were little girls and the world seemed full of magic.

Chapter 4
    Odd Tidings
     
     
    The hour before dawn found Amie pulling her car round the back alley. Through the gloom and decades - buried waste behind Pat’s Delights was a narrow strip leading to the back staircase leading up to her flat.
    The stranger’s face came unbidden to her as she gathered her things and moved her weary legs. Black eyes set deeply in a shadow-drenched face haunted her, eyes which seemed to accuse and praise, sift and wonder. Now that she knew, she realized she must have seen him before today, maybe even in the past she had