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The Peruvian hat with its earflaps and tassels, though, was new. Do anything special, she asked him, for New Years Eve Stayed at home. Really Quiet night in. Opened the doors at midnight. Brought the coal and a penny inside. Job done. Not like you. Last year you were out whooping it up. You didnt come home for three days. Three days! He stopped. Last year She stopped in her tracks. Her mouth opened and then she quickly looked away. I meant last time. She picked up a stick and flung it for the dogs to chase. It went spinning through the air and cracked into a birch tree. Well, he said, when you have four kids and a menagerie to think about, it changes things. Yes. Peter watched her carefully, trying not to make it obvious. He pretended to look away when she glanced at him, noting that she wasnt making a lot of eye contact from behind her dark glasses. She was carrying some guilty secret, he knew it. But the extraordinary thing about Tara was how her looks seemed to change under different light. Genevieve had remarked how young she looked; and it was true. Under soft lights she could almost pass for his daughters age, or someone in her late teens. Then again the direct sunlight might reveal care lines about the mouth, laughter lines around the eyes. Her complexion seemed unnaturally young, and her delicate and graceful hands seemed never to have done a days work. At least not when compared to the ruined, scarred hands of a working farrier.

Something in Taras frame, something in her delicacy, had always made Peter want to protect her. More than once hed wondered if they had different fathers. He had a large, lumbering physique, a gentle giant, slowwitted, according to his own assessment; she, by contrast, was mercurial, slenderboned, and sharptongued. He was earthly; she was aerial. He was made of clay and iron; she was made of fire and dreaming. Richie had fallen for her bigtime. Peter saw it happening from far off, the way you might see a weather front moving in: you might not want it, but you couldnt do anything about it. It was Richie in particular who encouraged her along on their jaunts, when Peter might have felt encumbered by having a sister monitoring his moves. But one day Peter saw Richie and Tara laughing together in a certain way. He should have known then and there that they were destined or doomed to become lovers. Peter had a momentary vision of Richie up there in the clouds with her, and on fire. He was more worried for Richie than he was about his sister.

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