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Chapter 1
Boston, November 1812
"Monkey, monkey. Drooling, slant-eyed monkey!"
Those faint words floated through the air like a whisper on the breeze to Lily, who had paused in the kitchen doorway of her father's tavern to enjoy the unusual November warmth. She stepped forward onto the bayside of Howell's Wharf and turned her face to the sun.
Indian summer, she thought with a smile. Her favorite moments in the year's cycle. God had certainly given her a wonderful birthday gift.
Cocking her head to one side, Lily listened for the all-too-familiar chanting but heard only silence. She relaxed against the door frame, her favorite place to daydream, and conjured in her mind's eye the handsome image of Bradley Howell, the man she intended to marry once the war ended. Too bad the war had interrupted her plans.
Lily fingered her necklace, her mother's legacy to her. On a delicate gold chain hung the cross of gold adorned with Greek letters. Alpha and omega meant the beginning and the ending. That was what her mother had told her. The man who was the first and the last would be her own true love. She didn't know how her mother could possibly have known that, but she never questioned the veracity of those words.
"Great guardian angel, please make Bradley Howell the first and the last for me," Lily whispered a prayer. After a moment, she added, "And, if it isn't too much trouble, let him remember that today is my birthday."
Brushing several wisps of ebony hair away from her face, Lily gazed at the familiar sight of Boston Harbor. A singsong chanting reached her ears.
Lily lifted her head, as if sensing danger. And then she heard it again, louder this time, a half-dozen children's voices in front of the tavern.
"Monkey, monkey. Drooling, slant-eyed monkey!" 
Lily ran down the alley behind the wharf's various businesses. Reaching the end, she raced around the corner in time to hear Hortensia MacDugal say, "The devil touched you, Michael Hawthorne. You are the devil's spawn."
Several of the children started chanting, "Devil's spawn..devil's spawn..devil's spawn!"
Lily burst upon the scene just as one of the boys picked up a stone and raised his arm to throw it at her brother. She grabbed the boy's wrist, forced him to drop the stone, and then whirled him around.
"You're hurting me," the boy cried.
"You're lucky you didn't throw that stone, Douglas MacDugal," Lily told the twelve-year-old. "I would have been forced to break both of your wrists." She pushed him away, ordering, "Get back to your own wharf or you'll be sorry."
The group of children scattered. Only Hortensia MacDugal stood her ground.
"Don't ever touch my brother again," Hortensia ordered.
Lily wasn't frightened by the other girl. She gave her a look of contempt and said, "You horse-faced—"
Without warning, Hortensia slapped Lily hard and pushed her to the ground. In one swift movement, Lily leaped to her feet and drew the small dagger she kept in a leather garter strapped to her leg.
Hortensia MacDugal looked at the dagger and then ran off the wharf, screaming to anyone who would listen, "Lily Hawthorne is going to murder me."
"I only wish that witch would stand still long enough for me to carve her up," Lily muttered, returning her dagger to its sheath.
She heard her eight-year-old brother laughing and turned to him with a smile. "How did you like the entertainment?" she asked, making him laugh louder.
"I liked when you pulled your dagger," Michael answered. "Boy, was she ever surprised."
"Wipe your chin," Lily said, closing the distance between them. "Keep your tongue inside your mouth, and remember to keep your mouth closed when you're not talking."
Michael wiped the bit of drool from his chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Lily put her arm around him and drew him toward a pile of lobster traps.
When the two of them sat down, Michael patted her arm. "Sister, why don't the others play with me?" he asked, looking at her through sapphire blue eyes that resembled her own.
Lily gazed at her brother's open mouth and slightly slanted blue eyes. They don't want to play with you because you're different, she wanted to say but remained silent. Most of the children mirrored their parents' ignorance about her brother's impediment. Others, like Hortensia MacDugal, enjoyed being cruel. A few might even believe he'd been touched by the devil at birth. How could she explain such meaningless hatred to her brother?
"Don't you know the answer?" Michael asked.
"I know the answers to every question, even the ones that haven't been asked yet," Lily told him in a lofty tone of voice, making him smile.
"Then what is the answer?" he asked.
Lily realized he wasn't going to let her sidestep his question this time and decided that her brother was smarter than everyone assumed. "The others don't play with you because their parents are afraid," she began, searching for words that wouldn't hurt his feelings. "They can see that you are different from them and don't understand you."
A puzzled look appeared on his face. "How am I different?"
"Something happened when you were born," Lily told him. "That makes you special."
"I don't want to be special," he whined. "I want to be the same."
"I know you do," Lily said, pulling him against the side of her body. "We'll always be together, though, won't we? Wipe your chin."
Michael nodded and wiped the drool from his chin. "Tell me the story, Sister."
"I named you Michael because you were born on Saint Michael's Day," Lily said, relieved to change the subject. "Saint Michael is an archangel. Do you remember what he did?"
Michael grinned. "He fought Lucifer and threw him out of heaven. I wish I could remember every word of the story like you do."
"Remembering what I read is a special gift," Lily told him. "Very few people have that ability."
"I wish I could," her brother repeated. "Then the others would like me."
"You have your own special gift," Lily said.
"What is it?"
"You make God smile," she answered, echoing her mother's dying words. "Your joy for life makes everyone smile."
Lily felt an insistent tugging on her heartstrings when her brother looked in the direction the children had run and said, "Not the others."
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