Previously, The Callahan home, shortly after one in the morning of December twenty-sixth...
 
Sleep softly, my fair lamb
Sleep peacefully, my sweet darling
Lie quietly in the cradle
Close your eyes, my faithful child

And in the hallway, despite the fact that Michael was a single grown woman, and despite the fact that Caden O’Rourke was a single grown…woman, Michael never the less sang the same sweet song to her; softly so as not to be heard, like an anonymous prayer. Who can say, but maybe the thinness of the old door added to Michael’s strong, authoritative near-tenor voice and the fading sobs of the girl inside enabled the protector to be heard. So while Caden remained sad and even a bit frightened, she found a measure of peace, and in minutes she was fast asleep.

I sit by the harbour
The sea calls to me
I hide in the water
But I need to breathe

A short while later...
 

Michael awoke suddenly, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable; her neck and back were sore from falling asleep against the bedroom door like a knight guarding a fair maiden. She gazed down at her watch; two-twelve in the morning. She turned and faced the door and listened; finally a silent if tentative peace for both Caden and perhaps herself. She stood and walked to her bedroom and retired with a caution that would remain for the rest of the night. Caden was safe if only for the time being.

Later that morning; almost noon in fact...
 

“Good morning,” Caden said as she sat down at the kitchen table. Michael was standing by the stove with a spatula in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Caden looked at her askance, wondering what was odd about the scene. She blinked twice as if to get the ‘sleep’ out of her eyes. Then she realized; Michael was wearing a Fairleigh Dickinson University sweatshirt with cut-off sleeves along with a mis-matched pair of Rutgers sweatpants. It was the first time Caden had seen her out of uniform.

“I hope you don’t mind French toast?” Michael smiled but her expression turned quickly flat as she noticed the reddish hue darkening Caden’s cheeks. Caden nodded and tilted her head slightly as if to look past Michael.

“Oh…I’m sorry.” Michael laid the spatula on the trivet on the stove and grabbed a carafe from the counter.

“Half Decaf and Half Hi-test, if that’s okay?” She poured a cup at Caden’s eager nod, but turned her head quickly when she realized how warm her own cheeks had become. Without turning back around, she spoke.

“Please feel free…I know you’ll need to call your grandmother.” Michael regretted the words even as they left her mouth; a rude and sad reminder of why the unfamiliar girl sat in her kitchen the day after Christmas.

“Thank…thank you.” Caden turned away only a bit, looking out of the kitchen window to the back yard beyond. Changing her view provided no solace whatsoever, and she began to tear up.

“I’ve already got the day off. Whatever you need?” Michael sat down across from the girl, almost commanding attention by her presence. Caden turned back to Michael, revealing a tear-stained face. Michael resisted the urge to reach out and grab Caden’s hand; folding her hands in front of her, she spoke softly.

“I’m so sorry, Miss O’Rourke.”

“Please…don’t trouble yourself. I’m…I’m alright, really.” Caden sounded as if she was trying as much to convince herself as Michael. The girl blushed; an altogether too frequent if new habit as her shame mixed with hope and wonder and sadness at the smile of the woman sitting across the table from her.

I've been run aground
So sad for a sailor
I felt safe and sound
But needed the danger

Sometime in the late afternoon...
 

“Nonee? Hi….Yes…Merry Christmas….Nonee….I….I have….Mom…” The girl spoke haltingly until the words literally stuck in her throat, causing a gag reflex as she started to cough. She tried to speak, but the grief combined with the safety of her grandmothers voice and she began to weep. Michael gently took the phone from her and spoke.

“Excuse me, Ma’am…I’m sorry. No…she’.... Ma’am? Yes, I’m a friend of your granddaughter. Yes, that’s right. Michael Callahan. No, Ma’am…..Yes, Ma’am...that is a boy's name, but I'm not a boy...” Michael paused; what was it about bad news and phone calls…she felt as if she was depriving the woman of something special.

“Your daughter-in-law was…I’m sorry, yes, Ma’am. No, Ma’am…she was.” Michael covered the phone with her hand and looked over at the sobbing girl.

“An aneurysm…yes, very fast and she felt no pain. Caden is too broken up. I’m going to let her rest for now, and she’ll…yes, this afternoon or evening for sure. Yes, she’s a lovely girl.” Michael stammered only a bit, feeling awkward over repeating the woman’s description of her granddaughter. Don’t all grandmothers think that way?

“Yes Ma’am…I am truly sorry for your loss. Yes, Ma’am…tonight at the latest. Yes, I’m sure she’ll be okay by then. Yes….I’ll tell her…No, Ma’am, I won’t forget. Right….Yes, just as soon as I get off the phone. Tonight…I’m so sorry, Ma’am. Goodbye for now.” Michael hung up the phone and sat down on the couch next to Caden.

“I’m….so….I should have….” Caden sobbed.

“No….she understands. She struggled to speak as well.” Michael lied. It seemed cordial enough, but it also seemed that there likely was no love lost between Caden’s mother and grandmother. The woman was much more concerned about how Caden was doing.

“She wanted you to know….she said, ‘tell Caden I love her very, very much.’” Michael didn’t need to follow through with the next request; maybe it was the grief that permeated the room, but she felt the need to be the rescuer even in the safe environs of her own living room, where the girl next to her needed not to fear. But she felt a duty, not only to the woman to whom she had made the promise, but to the girl beside her.

“She said, and I quote, “Give Caden a kiss from Nonee.’” Michael felt her own cheeks grow hot. She kissed her finger and placed it gently on the girl’s cheek. If she had wanted to be obtrusive, she couldn’t have designed a better gesture, even if she had meant for the opposite to occur. The girl began to sob and fell into her arms, weeping hard enough to shake both of them. Michael patted her back awkwardly. It was supposed to be a time of rest and recovery; a brief stopover in a sheltered cove of sorts as the girl was putting into the safe harbor of Michael’s life. She patted the girl’s back once again.

“Shuu shuu,” Michael whispered gently. More used to shouting out orders at a traffic accident or reading the rights to a belligerent husband at domestic disturbance, Michael felt almost out of her skin, but she succeeded in calming Caden. She pulled away slightly and looked into Caden’s eyes; a face that pleaded like a little girl who wanted time turned back. Michael brushed away the tears absent-mindedly, not meaning to do anything other than to give solace.

“I know this hurts….I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t meant to, but she leaned just a bit closer in sympathy; empathy actually since she had already begun to grieve for her own mother. Caden’s eyes widened in shame; feeling entirely unworthy of attention or comfort. She shook her head and went to pull away, but strong but gentle arms had wrapped her in protection, and they weren’t about to let go.

“No…please…no.” The girl protested and her tears came almost of their own will, literally pouring off her face. Michael touched the girl’s cheek, feeling the wetness. She grabbed a tissue off the end table and began to wipe the girl’s face. Caden tried once again to pull away. Michael would recall later how much it remind her of her life. She might not get even a fraction for what she wished, but everyone would always know somehow exactly what she wanted.

She touched the girl’s chin, cupping it gently and it happened. Actually it didn’t happen at all; we choose to act or not and what occurs is never an event but a choice. Michael chose at that moment to love the girl in front of her; a falling into love, to be sure, but also an active choice that would not only become another moment of definition for Michael, but for Caden as well as she kissed the girl.

“No. NO….” Caden sobbed even as Michael nearly smothered her with soft tender kisses. What some might mistakenly say was ‘manly,’ but really just a very strong, entirely feminine expression of love of one woman for another. Caden protested again.

“I’m…you can’t …I’m not …it won’t ever be right…” She wept as the woman continued to hold her tight against the pull of shame and fear. Michael whispered softly but firmly,

“I decide what’s right for me….you’re just right, Caden O’Rourke. Just fine indeed.”

She continued to kiss the girl even as Caden’s struggles waned in the strong and comforting embrace of a woman to whom she owed her life; a damsel of sorts in the arms of her knight in blue jersey armor. Caden gave into the moment and kissed back; her first kiss ever and the last she would ever need; other than each succeeding kiss from the woman she had begun to love.

Early that evening...
 

“Just a second…” Michael called at the ring of the doorbell. She got up from the couch, trying hard not to disturb her very restful looking guest. She opened the door to find a familiar if disappointed looking face stare at her.

“Dave…What are you…I’ve got the day off.” Dave smiled weakly but looked over her shoulder to the figure asleep on the couch. He turned to the other officer standing behind him on the porch.

“Pete, call it in, okay?” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Michael…I really am.” He noticed the girl had awoken and was sitting up.

“Kellen Daniel O’Rourke…also known as Caden Danielle O’Rourke?” Dave Washington stepped gingerly past Michael, whose eyes had widened in realization.

“NO, Dave…tell me you’re not…”

“I’m not happy about it, either, but I have my orders. Miss, would you please stand up and put your hands behind your back.” Dave had practically lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Pete Krakowski stepped past Michael and walked up to Caden.

“I…I don’t understand.” Caden shook her head slightly.

“Kellen O’Rourke, you’re under arrest for the murder of Grace O’Rourke,” Dave began as Pete grabbed the girl’s wrists, twisting her arms behind her back rudely. He ushered her out the door, practically spitting out her rights,

“You have the right to remain silent,” Pete said as he pushed her head down and shoved her into the squad car.

“Dave…what the hell is going on.”

“There was a search of the hotel room, Mikey…they found a gun…THE gun. Your friend killed his mother.” Michael was going to correct the pronoun, but she realized that gender specific terms were the least concerns of Caden O’Rourke. Someone had killed her mother, and from the town of Morristown's perspective, Caden was good for it.

“Dave…wait a second, okay?” Michael walked out to the driveway in her bare feet and walked up to the squad car to open the door.

“I can’t let you do that, Mike!” Pete said, putting his hand on her wrist. A mean glare flashed in Michael’s eyes, and the tall officer relented. She opened the door to find a stunned Caden sitting almost catatonic in the back seat.

“I’m going to find out who did this. I promise.” She shook her head as the girl nodded without expression. Pete pushed past her and shoved the door closed.

“You can’t help him now, Mike. He killed his mother and he’s got you buffaloed if you think it was just a robbery gone bad. Dead to rights, Mike. Sorry.” He pushed past her once again, this time looking a bit more apologetic as he got behind the wheel. Dave came up and put his hand on her shoulder.

“I hope things turn out okay, Mikey, but it doesn’t look good. Pete found the gun in the dresser in her room. She’ll be arraigned and maybe the judge will set bail, but I don’t think so, Mikey. Sorry.” Dave got into the squad car and a moment later they were gone.

A moment later, Officer Michael Callahan’s eyes widened once again in realization, but this time they had a gleam that seemed to shine out as a ray of hope. Michael knew what had happened; who killed Grace O'Rourke. The trick now would be to prove it, and that would happen when she figured out why.

You are an ocean wave, my love
Crashing at the bow
I am a galley slave, my love
If only I could find out the way
To sail you ...
Maybe I'll just stow away ...

Next: Riches Too Great To Count
 

Suantrai (Reprise)
words and music by
Méav Ni Mhaolchatha
and Andreeja Malir
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqkuvFC8ZDo

Martha's Harbour
words and music by
Andy Cousin, Tim Bricheno
and Julianne Regan