The Target

again as if she were setting her camera shot. She cocked her head to one side. "Sex is part of things. I know you like my hair, you even like my eyes. But I'm skinny, you know that. Will you mind having sex with me?"

    He said, never looking away from those very nice eyes of hers, "I know it's expected, so I'll try."

    She wanted to run her hand up his thigh but instead, she just laughed, then almost immediately sobered. "What about Emma?"

    "I guess at first we'll have to sneak around, that, or abstain for the time being. I spoke to Dr. Loo about Emma needing to sleep in the same room with either or both of us, that or in the same bed, and she said not to worry. She said of course it wasn't a good idea to have kids sleeping with their parents as a regular thing, but this was different. She said Emma would probably be the one to break away when she was ready. So, Molly, will you marry me?"

    Molly got to her feet, dusting off her bottom with her hands. "It looks like the family is about ready to leave. Let's go get Emma and tell her she's going to have a new daddy." She started walking away, then said over her shoulder, a big grin on her face, "Yeah, I'll put you out of your misery, Judge Hunt."

    "Say it," he called after her, raising his deep voice loud enough for several people to hear him and turn to look at Molly. "I want to hear you say the words."

    She knew people were staring and listening and she laughed, shaking her head. She called out, "I'll marry you. It would be my pleasure to marry you."

    There was some applause and a couple of groans from some men, who got punched by their wives.

    "That sounds wonderful," he said, walking to stand beside her. "It sounds more than wonderful. We'll be a family for real now. Yes, I quite like that." He looked over at Emma and her new friends. "I think that man is going to give Emma the leprechaun kite. Let's go thank them for watching her." He stopped then, turned, and brought her against him. "Did I ever tell you that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known? That you've even gotten more beautiful each added day I know you?"

    "No. You just told me I had beautiful hair."

    "That, too. That's your crowning glory, I'll admit it." He raised his hand and curled a thick strand around his finger. He smiled at her. "Feels like springy silk. Yeah, you're beautiful. I think every skinny little bone in your body is beautiful."

    He looked over at Emma, who was panting from her run, dragging the kite behind her, looking tired and pleased. "You're sure you like me enough, Molly?"

    "I like you enough." She looked down, scuffing the toe of her black boot in the dirt. She said then, making his eyes nearly cross, as she looked back up at him through her lashes, "I particularly like your body."

    She thought for a moment that he was going to grab her, and she wouldn't have minded, but he didn't. He just smiled and said, "Excellent. That's a really good start. Let's get married, Molly, as soon as we get back home. We can stop off in Nevada. Let's have the honeymoon before the wedding. What do you think?"

    What was love anyway? she thought, as she slowly nodded.

    They didn't have the opportunity either to honeymoon in Ireland or to tell Emma that she was getting a new daddy. Waiting for them at the reception desk at Dromoland Castle were two phone messages and a fax from Savich.

    THEY flew from Shannon to Chicago O'Hare in Business Class, in the middle section that holds three seats, putting Emma between them. She slept most of the way, propped up on three pillows on Ramsey's armrest, covered with a blanket, holding her piano close, the top keys sticking out from beneath the blanket. The piano had sat in the corner of their suite, seemingly forgotten by Emma, until the phone call had come, her mother had paled, Ramsey had cursed quietly, and they'd started packing quickly.

    Molly saw that the shoelace from one of her Nike sneakers was dangling. She stared at it, then finally reached down and simply pulled the sneaker off. She had a plaid sock on her small foot. Molly had washed out the pair the night before.

    They'd said very little. Life had spun out of control again. Molly felt numb, nothing else, just a numb blankness that had taken over both her brain and her body. She supposed she should be grateful for it.

    Finally, Molly said quietly, so as not to awaken Emma, "I'm having a hard time accepting it. I keep thinking it's a mistake, that someone really screwed up, that