The room was shadow-filled and deep, the only light eminating from a dying oil lamp and what moonlight trickled through the uncovered window. Yet a pair of mud-water eyes blinked owlishly back of her.

"Ye dinna plan tae gie me fits now that I have yer sister sated and sleeping, are ye, wee Ian? Ye would no' do that tae yer poor mam, my bonny lad..." Another blink of the ancient wise eyes was her only response, his mouth releasing with a moist pop as her finger traced the curve of his cheek. Sianna held Ian snug in the crook of her left arm, while she saw to buttoning the upper portion on her shirt with the right.

In all actuality, it was Johnny's. She'd taken to wearing them once the twins had been born. In dealing with the frequent feedings, buttons on the whole were easier than bodice laces. Or perhaps it was the scent of him that she imagined clung to the fibers, a tangible presence to serve in reminder that they were truly a quartet and not a trio.

Bending her head to the infant in her arms, she bussed noisily against his cheek and was rewarded with a happy grin in response. Sianna transferred her son to her left shoulder, and instinctively he turned towards her neck, shifting his body back and forth in search of a sweet spot from which to drift to sleep. Her lips curved into a wistful smile, having learned some of the subtle signs the two-month old communicated. "Verra weel, my wee wiggle worm, if ye insist..."

The wood runners of the rocking chair creaked apologetically as she leaned back to begin a gentle rolling motion. She patted a soothing one-two to his bottom, it forming a heartbeat tempo for the song that was to come.

"Close your eyes, my love, my own. My precious child, mo st?ir?n. D?n do sh?il, a r?n mo chro? is gheobhair feir?n am?rach. Close your eyes, oh love of my heart, and you will get a present tomorrow."

Blue eyes drooped heavily-lidded. She rested her cheek against the crown of his head, breath warm and endearing on her neck. Yet as she softly sang the words oh love of my heart another face was summoned unbidden to her mind's eye.

"The summer will come with warmth and sun, the grainy leaves all growing. Softly sleep while watch I keep, the breezes gently blowing."

She could sense the late summer wind and feel the jolt of the wagon beneath her. Smell the lavender crushed between her hands, the dust floating like a golden haze in the still air of the cottage. See how his shaggy hair filtered the midday sunlight, the water running in rivulets across his chest, the door's lintel framing him as if a portrait. They had been working at the farm that day, so many months ago now.

"Your father comes across the land, wi' gifts for you and for me. Ducks and eggs in either hand and freshest fish from Tra Li."

The scene in her mind melted and morphed, the edges blurring to black so that all that remained was a cocoon of candlelight, the moon shimmering over the harbor. The flavor of tomato chutney and naan bread exploded on her tongue in memory, the sound of his voice repeating in her ears like the chime of a bell. Cib? ?it a rachaidh m?, rachaidh tusa, a mhuirn?n. "Anywhere I go you go, my dear."

"D?n do sh?il, a r?n mo chro? a chuid den tsaol, 's a ghr? liom. D?n do sh?il, a r?n mo chro? agus gheobhair feir?n am?rach. Close your eyes, oh love of my heart. My worldly joy, my treasure. Close your eyes, oh love of my heart and you will get a present tomorrow."

Ian whimpered softly as the song came to a close, in protest for being bereft of either a melody or present. Or the present-bearer. As tears slid down her cheeks, Sianna brushed tender lips against his brow. "I ken just how ye feel, my lad." The past months had been an unending chain of waiting for the tomorrow that was yet, if ever, to arrive.