The day I got her letter I was in such a state I couldn't go to the rest of my classes. How was I to focus on my studies after reading 'Dear Aoife, My mother has been murdered?' My hands shook so bad I had to get someone to read the rest to me.

I should never have gone away to school. If only I'd stayed in Wiscasset. I might not have been able to save her ma, but I'd not let anyone take her away like that, would I? I'd have hidden her under my bed, or in the attic. But no, I went prancing off to uni, leaving the poor wee lass to fend when she needed me most. I'll not forgive myself for that any time soon.

She's told me of her Kansas people. They're well-meaning enough, but they don't understand her in the least. They want her to be a goody-two-shoes and sure, that's a thing she'll not be. They don't understand her, they don't care to understand her, and they don't deserve to have her.

Now that she's lost her dear Ma, no one deserves her but me.

Right. I can't believe I said that. What I meant was I hope I deserve her.

The first time she called me from Kansas it was such a relief to hear her voice again I nearly broke down in tears. After sobbing at one another a moment, we were right back as we'd started, as if we'd not been apart at all.

Between sobs, I said, "If I'd had an idea where to start, I'd've come after you, wouldn't I."

"It's ok, Aoife. It would have been like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"You mean a noodle."

"Huh?"

"You know- a noodle in a haystack."

"Why would a noodle be in a haystack?"

"How am I to know? Maybe someone had spaghetti in there."

"Eefs, trust me. It's needle."

"Well, why would there be a needle in a haystack, then? It doesn't make any sense."

"Someone might have lost it when they were darning their socks."

"Who darns their socks in a haystack?"

"The same guy who ate spaghetti in there."

She thought she had me, but I was ready:

"Aha! So you concede the fundamental logic of having a spaghetti dinner in a haystack!"

"EEFS. IT'S NEEDLE, OK?"

"A NEEDLE WOULDN'T BE SO HARD TO FIND, BONNIE-KATE."

"YES IT WOULD! NEEDLES ARE TINY!"

I calmed myself. Nothing loses a debate quite so fast as flying off the handle.

"Knitting needles are quite large."

"It's a regular sewing needle, not a knitting needle."

"How do you know what kind of needle it is?"

"I just do! Everyone knows this!" she said.

"And how do they know? Because it was so easy to find? Hm?"

"A needle would be almost impossible to find in a haystack."

"You could get a big magnet and you'd find it pretty quick."

"Aaagh!"

"What if it was a hypodermic needle? That wouldn't be so hard to find, either."

"YES IT WOULD!"

"Or a pine needle, say, a balsam fir. You'd be able to smell it."

"NO YOU WOULDN'T!"

"All I'm saying is it would be much harder to find a noodle."

"No, it wouldn't! Aaagh!"

"Uncooked spaghetti noodles look just like hay. Ye'd not find that in years."

I heard Bonnie-Kate take a couple of deep breaths. "So now the guy in the haystack was eating raw spaghetti? Who eats raw spaghetti, in a freakin haystack, no less?"

"It could have been fettuccini."

"But still raw."

We argued about what foods might correctly be called raw. I cornered her and forced her to claim, preposterously, that plain bread was commonly known as 'raw toast.' I could almost taste victory.

I knocked her off balance with, "Me uncle used to eat raw sea urchins."

She made a deflating sound. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

Sure, I was being impossible. Learned it from the master, didn't I.

"Doing what?"

"Putting noodles in haystacks?"

I couldn't see her, but I knew she was grinning like a madwoman.