The car screeches to a halt as the salty air of the coast fills my lungs.

Gaeta, a picturesque town nestled along the Tyrrhenian Sea, offers a stark contrast to the urban chaos of Rome.

But for me, its beauty means nothing. It's fully overshadowed by the urgency of the mission.

Save Sofia. Save Sofia. Save Sofia.

Those two words beat in the rhythm of my mind over and over again, akin to two persistent drumsticks on a drum.

As we step out of the vehicle, a sudden chill wind sweeps through the town, carrying the briny scent of the sea.

The morning sky is darkening, heavy with the promise of an approaching storm.

"We need to get to the Grotta del Turco. Now," I say, already in Rigena's warm embrace.

I hear Patrick's negative reply. "No, Alex. It's too dangerous. A storm is coming up. We should wait until it passes and go then. It's a mere couple of hours."

"But Sofia..." I pout my lips stubbornly.

Rigena doesn't agree with me, probably for the first time in my life. "We can't risk everyone's safety, Alex. We have to assume that Kieran and Enzo won't harm Sofia for the time being."

But I can't wait.

Don't they understand?

Sofia is in danger, and every minute counts. I glance at Liam, his expression unreadable as he chews on his lower lip.

"This means to ye that much, sweetheart. I can feel it."

"It does," Rigena butts in. "Alex loves Sofia like her own daughter."

"We'll go alone," Liam says decisively, his voice firm. "We can find her."

Patrick's eyes widen. "No, Liam. It's too dangerous."

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We have to try. Alexandra can't just sit here and wait. And ye know I'm a good sailor. I can outrun the storm, that crafty she-devil." Liam mock-curtseys at Patrick.

Patrick hesitates, his expression torn between concern and admiration. Finally, he nods. "Alright, but be careful, big brother. We'll be right behind you. As soon as you arrive at the cove and find them, gather intel but do nothing. Wait for us."

I turn to Rigena and Patrick, my heart heavy with gratitude. "Thank you," I whisper. "We won't let you down."

With that, we head towards the harbor, our footsteps quickening as the wind whips around us.

We find a small boat rental shop and barge in, my determination fueled by a desperate need to find Sofia.

The owner, a grizzled old man with weathered skin, shakes his head at our demand. "No, signorina. A storm is coming. It's too dangerous. I cannot in my good conscience rent you that boat."

Liam digs into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. "I don't care how dangerous it is," he insists, his voice rising. "We need that boat."

The old man hesitates, his eyes scanning the harbor. Finally, he nods. "Alright, but you're on your own. If something happens, don't blame me."

As we walk towards the small boat, I can't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

But I know we must press on, for Sofia's sake, if only to get some information first; the information we can then pass on to Patrick and the others.

The sun is yet to come up and there is a star that looks almost close enough to touch.

"Liam, look at the sky," I say softly, voicing my thoughts out loud. "The stars look so close."

He stops walking, puts his hand over mine to signal me to stop, too.

"It's because of the sea," he says, the sound of his voice low and warm. "We're past the warehouses now, and there's only water. Listen and you can hear it breathing." We stand very still.

I strain to hear. The rhythmic slap slap of the moving water against the invisible pilings of the seawall becomes audible. Gradually it seems to get louder, until I am amazed I haven't been hearing it all the time.

Then another sound merges with the cadence of the sea. It's music, a thin high slow procession of notes.

The purity of them makes my eyes fill with unexpected tears.

"Do you hear it?" I ask fearfully.

Am I imagining things?

"Yes. It's a homesick sailor on the ship anchored out there. The tune is an old Italian song. They make those flute-like whistles themselves. Some of them have a real gift for playing. He must have the watch. See, there's a lantern in the rigging," Liam explains. "The lantern's supposed to warn any other ship traffic that she's anchored there, but you always have a man on watch, too, to look for anything approaching."

When we finally arrive at our boat, I think how I had no idea that it would be so small. Or that it would be at the bottom of a long ladder that looks so slimy wet.

I look faux-accusingly at Liam. "Is this what you gave up that wad of cash for?"

"Nearly low tide," he says. "Wait!" he adds.

I look up at him with a stonily determined face. "I'm not going to give up now, Liam."

"I know ye ain't, sweetheart. Just... Let me help ye get in. I'm not willing to let you break your neck to spare me the trouble of taking you out for an hour. That ladder's very slippery. I'll go down one rung before you to make sure you don't lose your footing in those foolish city boots. Stand by while I get ready."

He opens the drawstring of the canvas bag and takes out a pair of canvas shoes with rubber soles. I watch in silent amazement.

Liam takes his time, removing his boots, putting on the shoes, placing the boots in the bag, tightening the drawstring, making an intricate-looking knot in it.

He looks at me with a sudden smile that takes my breath away. "Stay right there, sweetheart. I'll stow this gear and come back for you." In a flash he hoists the bag on his shoulder and is halfway down the ladder before I understand what he's talking about.

"You skinnied down and up that thing like greased lightning," I say with honest admiration when Liam is beside me again.

"Or a monkey," he corrects me with a grin. "A stint on Galway ships will do that to a lad. Come on, my dear, time and tide wait for no man."

I am no stranger to ladders, and I have a good head for heights. As a child I climbed trees to their topmost swaying branches and scampered up into the hayloft of the barn as if its narrow ladder were a broad flight of stairs.

But still, I am grateful for Liam's steady presence, and for how quickly he decided to take a risk for me.

WIthout even knowing Sofia is his daughter.

"Ready?" He says.

"Oh, yes!"

"Then let's cast off." Liam waves at Patrick and Ri, and unties the lines that hug the tiny sloop to the dock, pushing it away from the barnacle-crusted pier support with a paddle.

The fast-running ebb tide grabs the little boat at once and pulls it into the open sea. "Sit where you are and keep your head down on your knees," Liam orders.

He hoists the jib, cleats the halyard and sheet, and the narrow sail fills with wind.

"Now." Liam sits on the seat beside me and hooks his elbow over the tiller between us.

With his two hands he begins to haul up the mainsail. There is a great noise of creaking and rattling. I steal a sideways look without lifting my head. Liam's eyes are squinting against the sun and he is frowning in concentration. But he looks happy, as happy as I've ever seen him.

It's almost unbelievable how united we are in this joint tragedy that befell us.

Had it not been for Sophie's disappearance, our outing to the cove might as well appear as an excursion.

The mainsail bellies out with a booming snap and Liam laughs. "Good girl!" he says.

I smile, even if I know he isn't talking to me.

I never knew Liam was so into sailing.

"Are you ready to go inside? Just in case, because of the storm?"

"Oh, no, Liam! Not ever." I want to experience the ride fully.

To see Liam Cavanaugh outrun the storm and bring us a step closer to our daughter.

The sloop that the old man rented us is a mere sixteen feet long, its hull sometimes barely inches above the sea.

It rides waves and currents like an eager young animal, climbing to the crests, then swooping into the troughs with a dashing plunge that leaves my stomach somewhere high up near my throat and throws a fan of salty droplets into my face and open, exultant mouth.

I am part of it—I am the wind and the water and the salt and the sun.

And momma is coming for you, Sophie.

Liam looks at my rapt expression. "Would you like to take the tiller?" he offers. "I'll teach you to sail her."

I shake my head. I have no desire to control, I am happy simply to be.

The rising sun is now warm on our backs, the wind sharp and salty on our faces.

It assaults my disheveled hair, pulling it free from dislodged combs and hairpins and tossing it in long, dark leaping streamers.

I shriek and grab wildly at it.

"Now look what you've done!" I shout.

The wind whips a thick strand of hair into my open mouth, making me sputter and blow. "My grief, I'm a mess."

"Ye never looked so beautiful in yer entire life." Liam says with an adoring look in his emerald eyes, holding up his cellphone as a mirror for me to see myself.

My face is alight with joy, rosy from windburn, glowing amid the wild dark cloud of hair.

The grieving, sleepy expression I've been wearing for hours has subsided a little.

"I don't suppose the old man left something to eat on the boat, did he?" I ask hopefully.

"Only sailors' rations," says Liam, "toast and rum."

"That sounds delicious. I've never tasted toast and rum combined." I look at the sun-spangled water of the Mediterranean sea, and the white curls of foam on each side of the bow, then fling out my arms and arch my back in a luxurious cat-like stretch.

The sleeves of my hastily pulled-on sweater are so long that they extend past my hands, flapping in the wind.

"Careful, sweetheart," Liam laughs, "ye might blow away." He frees the tiller, preparing to come about, looking automatically for any other vessels that might be in our proposed path.

"Look, Alexandra," he says urgently, "quick. Out there to starboard—to your right. I'll bet ye've never seen that before."

My eyes scan the marshy shore in the near distance. Then—halfway between boat and shore—a gleaming gray shape curved above the water for a moment before disappearing beneath it.

"A shark!" I exclaim.

"No, two—three sharks. They're coming right at us. Do they want to eat us?"

"Those are dolphins, not sharks." Liam grins. "They must be heading for the ocean. Hold tight and duck. I'm going to bring her around tight. Maybe we can travel to the grotto with them. It's the most charming thing in the world to be in the middle of a school of them. They love to play."

"Play? Fish? You must think I'm mighty gullible, Liam."

"They aren't fish. Just watch. You'll see."

There are seven dolphins in the pod. By the time Liam maneuvers the sloop onto the course the sleek mammals are following, the dolphins are far ahead. Liam stands and shades his eyes against the sun. "Damn!" he says.

Then, immediately in front of the sloop, a dolphin leaps from the water, bows its back, and dives with a splash back into the water.

I pound on Liam's thigh with a sweater-mittened fist. "Did you see that?"

Liam drops onto the seat. "I saw it. He came to tell us to get a move on. The others are probably waiting for us. Look!" Two dolphins break water ahead.

Their graceful leaps make me clap my hands. I push the sweater sleeves up her arms and clap again, this time successfully.

Two yards to my right the first dolphin surfaces, clears his blow hole with a spurt of spume, then lazily rocks back down into the water.

"Oh, Liam, I never saw anything so darling. It was smiling at us!"

Liam is smiling, too. "I always think they're smiling, and I always smile back. I love dolphins, always 'ave."

The dolphins treat us to what can only be called a game. They swim alongside, under, across the bow, sometimes singly, sometimes in twos or threes.

Diving and surfacing, blowing, rolling, leaping, looking from eyes that seem human, seem to be laughing above the engaging smile-like mouth at the clumsy, boat-bound man and woman.

"There!" Liam points when one bursts from the surface in a leap, and "There!" I yell when another leaps in the opposite direction.

"There!" and "There!" and "There!" whenever the dolphins break water.

It's a surprise each time, always in a spot that is different from the places where Liam and I are looking.

"They're dancing," I insist.

"Frolicking," Liam suggests.

"Showing off," we agree.

The show is enchanting.

I only wish Sophie were here to see it, to complete our little family of three.

I never believed I'd think this, but I do want Liam to finally meet her.

He's been there for me through thick and thin ever since we reconnected and he... he has earned the right to see his daughter.

Because of the dolphins, we grow careless.

We don't see the obscure patch of cloud that is spreading across the horizon behind us. Our first warning is when the steady fresh wind suddenly drops.

The taut billowing sails go limp, and the dolphin noses abruptly down into the water and disappears.

We look then—too late—over our shoulders.

The darkest shadow is racing over the water and the sky.