He pointed to the fortune teller tent he spied, grabbed her hand, and started toward it. "Oi, a fortune-teller! Come!" he said excitedly.

Rose hesitated. "Father doesn't allow me to engage in such things. It's not Christian," she said. But she walked along. "I'll wait outside."

"Are ye sure? It's just nonsense. Ye don't believe in magic, do ye?" He didn't go in without her, he wasn't going to either. He would keep her hand in his and they could go somewhere else. "It won't be any fun without ye," he was lying through his teeth on that one, but this was supposed to be a date and he was intent on wooing the woman who agreed to marry him and find some common ground, right?

If there was one superstitious group in Whitby, it was the fishing community. And who could blame them, with their lives dependent on the same sea that might claim their men every night? Many sought to control their lot by filling the chapel and mission hall on Sunday mornings; even more followed a far older pattern of rituals with the same fervor during the week; and children would stand on the piers singing old charms to the sea, that were to bring their fathers and brothers home safely.

Rose didn't want to disappoint Andrew, but she also did not want to incur Divine wrath and place her father and brothers in peril. Not to mention the simple fact that even now that she had lived away from home for almost three years, she was still afraid to disobey her father's rules. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Let's ride the swing boats instead." And she gently pulled him in that direction.

"Alright, we can go to the swing boats," he said in a tone that hid his disappointment well. Perhaps he would visit the fortune teller another time. After all, he wasn't afraid of a little magic, if that's what that was. He let her lead them to the boats in question, standing in line when they arrived. "This looks fun," he said with another fib.

Rose was quite unaware that she was being lied to. She turned to Andrew once they were in the line and smiled brightly. "My brother and I used to go in one boat and compete with my other brother and sister. We'd see who could swing the highest, though the crew always slowed us down in the end." They were fond memories of back when life was happier and simpler. She could not bring her brothers back, but she hoped that one day she would feel a similar happiness again.

He softened as she spoke of her brothers, squeezing her hand and bringing it up to kiss the back of it. "Well then we shall ride the boats," he said cheerfully, more enthused about it now. Not that she knew he was fibbing to her about how fun it would be. He hoped she didn't...

Rose's enthusiastic smile turned into a more tender one when he squeezed and kissed her hand. She was glad that he seemed to understand that the memory of her brother was dear to her, and was willing to communicate his support. It was a wonderful thing to imagine that from now on, she would have someone to comfort her by her side.

These quiet reflections were disturbed when the swings stopped and a new batch was allowed in. "Come on!" she said, and she pulled the hand he was holding. She let go as they reached one of the boats, and without waiting for assistance, she climbed in. Then she smiled at Andrew expectantly. "Let's see how high we can swing this thing."

He followed her into a boat, her enthusiasm getting to him. When they sat down, he grinned at her, and his grin died when it hit him that he was starting to like Rose a little more than he had because of the tenderness she had in her eyes for that brief moment. He nodded and then took her hand again, leaning in and whispering, "We shall see how high this thing can go. Are ye ready?" His smile returned and he squeezed her hand.

Rose felt a little nervous when Andrew's grin died, and she wondered if she had done something wrong. Her own smile faltered for a second. But he squeezed her hand. It was alright, wasn't it? She did not have much time to reflect on it. The people in the other boats started swinging, and Rose was too competitive to let them have all the fun.

She pulled her hand back and clutched the beams. "You better hold on tight!" she teased, and, standing, she began to move her body, shifting her weight to get the large swing in motion. It wasn't very lady-like, but Rose was a fishing girl, not a lady. And the swings made her feel like a child again. For the moment, she didn't care about acting properly and feminine, even in front of Andrew.