She had to stop and count how long she’d been in Ireland: this was only her fifth day here, if she counted the day she’d arrived. It seemed like longer. She had to admit, she felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end of the pool, with no warning. As she’d told Mick, everybody around here seemed to know who she was; most of them knew more about her family history than she did. How many years would it take to fill in that kind of information for all these new people she was meeting? She jumped out of bed and showered quickly, then went upstairs to find that Ellen’s children were still in the kitchen. Oh, right—it was Saturday, which meant no school. She hovered in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. When the children noticed her, they suddenly turned shy. “You lot, in the parlor,” Ellen barked, and the older children took themselves off, leaving Gráinne, who was seated on the kitchen floor playing with several wooden spoons and looking quite content. Maura wondered briefly what it would be like to be one of many kids, much less the last of many.
