Fiona shook her head. "Keely, I can't-"

"Yes, you can! You can remember. Tell me."

Her mother shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, I can't. Your da was the one who could tell the stories. I never had the talent. The only talent I had was for believin' them."

Keely sat up and threw her arms around her mother's neck, giving her a fierce hug. "It's all right," she said. "Just knowing he told good stories makes me imagine him better."

Her mother kissed her on the cheek, then reached over and turned off the lamp. In the shadows, Keely saw her brush a tear from her cheek. "Go to sleep now."

She walked to the door and closed it behind her. A pale stream of light from the streetlamp filtered through the lace curtains, creating a pretty pattern on the ceiling. "He told stories," Keely murmured to herself. "My da told really good stories."

And though it was only a little bit of who Seamus McClain must have been, it was enough for now. For it gave her a small insight into the person she was. Maybe she wasn't meant to be the good girl that her mother wanted her to be. Maybe she was really more like her father-bold, adventurous, imaginative and daring.

Keely sighed softly. Still, she knew in her heart that her father, whoever he was, would never approve of her pinching a lipstick from Eiler's Drugstore. She made a silent vow to herself to return the lipstick first thing tomorrow.

CHAPTER ONE

A BRISK WIND buffeted the spot where Keely McClain stood. She turned into the breeze and inhaled the salttinged air. Far below her, the sea crashed against jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. Above her, clouds scudded across the sky, casting shadows on the hills around her. A memory from her childhood flashed in her mind as she recalled the fairy tale she once scribbled in her journal, the fanciful story of how her parents had met on a storm-tossed sea.