...And Never Let HerGo

shades of green, all representing this beautiful country. Everywhere I look (north, south, east, west) I am surrounded by the ocean. . . . I have my grandmother to thank for the relaxation I am experiencing right now. Without her this trip would not have been possible. Of course I would rather have her with me, but we all must die. I hope she knows I am here.
    Their two weeks in Ireland closed an invisible circle for Anne Marie and Brian. Although they often stayed at hostels with few amenities and sometimes argued when they were tired or hungry or just sick of too much time together, they were connecting to the people who had gone before them.
    Anne Marie fretted more than Brian did about the primitive or bizarre accommodations they were forced to choose because they had little money. And her journal entries were not all as poetic as her thoughts on the ocean. When they reached Dingle, she showed her well-developed irreverent side:
    We dropped our belongings [at the hostel] in #10. I don’t
think
so, “Doggie!” It was another ten-person, five-bunk-bed room from the 1960’s. I realize I don’t recall the sixties due to the fact that I was born in 1966; however that room was bullshit. Black walls with fluorescent psychedelic paint splatted all over. There was one side of the wall that had a big-ass toothbrush painted on it. How attractive! I told Seymour, “No way—get me the fuck out of this room!”
    And in Dingle, the happy campers’ patience was wearing a little thin. “I think Seymour is bored with me,” Anne Marie wrote.
    We had a “fight” at the bar because he said that my self-esteem is very low, and if he did not know me, he would think I was incapable of doing absolutely
nothing.
I was very sad and
furious!
I think that when two people go on a trip together for two weeks, one is bound to get on one another’s nerves. I don’t regret taking a trip with him, but
sometimes
I hope he likes a party and also would enjoy eating in a restaurant which is a little bit more expensive! Oh my God, shut your mouth, Ana Maria.
    In close quarters for too long, Anne Marie began to think that Brian was ridiculously parsimonious, and he found her constant need to be doing something unreasonably hyper. But they pushed on, their verbal tangles typical of siblings. Anne Marie was so secure with Brian that she was actually asserting herself and speaking up, which, for her, was a significant accomplishment. They found the little hamlet on the way to Sligo that the Faheys were supposed to have come from and took a picture of Fahy Hardware. They were enjoying the very real sense of being in the place where they had roots.
    And then they were in Kilmecrennan, the village where Nan and Grand Daddy had once lived. It was high summer and their time there could not have been more serendipitous. Brian and Anne Marie found the pub in Milford that Nan had owned; it was still called the White Heather Inn. And they met a cousin who looked just like Nan. Surrounded by relatives, Anne Marie felt totally at home, and it was like balm to her soul.
    When she returned to Bob Conner’s office on August 9, Anne Marie was happier than he had ever known her to be. She was living in her own cozy little apartment on Washington Street, where she could afford the rent all by herself. Her trip to Ireland had allowed her to step out of her life for two weeks, and he could see that her image of herself was much more positive. She confided that she had been able to speak her mind and nothing terrible happened. Her fingers crossed, it looked as if Annie was beginning to emerge from a long lonely tunnel.

Chapter Eleven
    W HEN NOTHING WORKED OUT with Mike Hines, Anne Marie had begun seeing Tom again. He often dropped by her desk in the governor’s office, and she remembered how nice it was to be with him. He was supportive and kind, and he challenged her to a continuing game of trivia. It was light, at first, and fun.
    Anne Marie told some of her friends part of the truth about her relationship with Tom, others very little, but she confided completely in Kim Horstman. They lived together at the shore every summer, and they spoke on the phone at least twice a week during the rest of the year. Kim knew about Annie’s problem with eating, and she knew about the men in her life. That summer of 1994 in Sea IsleCity, Annie told Kim she was involved with Tom Capano—not just for lunches and an occasional dinner date, but in a romantic affair. She had