Cortin was puzzled by that comment, but she didn't have long to wonder at it; as soon as she and Degas followed the priest inside, she was mobbed--at least that was what it felt like--by the Harrison children and pets. Three children, four dogs, and a cat, she thought, were far more formidable than it sounded like they should be--and she loved being their target. When their greetings settled down a bit, she picked up Mama-Cat and carried her back to her kittens, smiling wistfully as the tiny beings mewed, hunting blindly for nipples, then settling down as they found them and began nursing. She'd always wanted a family of her own; if Mike hadn't been Special Ops, she'd have married him as soon as her Service obligation was complete, and done her best to have a dozen or so children. Now that that was impossible, the wish for it seemed to be getting stronger. She put that out of her mind, stroking Mama-Cat and, very gently, each of the kittens before she rose to see a bemused expression on Degas' face. "Doesn't quite fit my image, does it?" "No, ma'am. But it makes me even more certain you're the one my confessor meant." Father Harrison looked from him to Cortin and back, then smiled slowly. "I thought your voice was familiar, Lieutenant," he said. Then, to Cortin's astonishment, the old priest blessed himself and murmured, "Thank You, Lord." Degas stared at him, nodded once, and duplicated the slow smile. "Same here, Father. I'm glad we both lived to see it." This time it was Cortin who looked from one to the other. "I do not believe in coincidence," she said firmly, shaking her head. "What coincidence?" Father Harrison asked, beaming at her. "This happy meeting is simply the power of prayer in action. Needless to say, I'm delighted to see the troubled boy I counseled has matured into a fine officer and found the one I predicted would complete his healing." Cortin couldn't argue the power of prayer--and the children weren't about to let adult seriousness delay their fun any longer. They almost pulled Cortin outside and to the corral behind the barn, to show her Starfire and the newborn Lifestar. The colt was a palomino, all right, in the classic--and rare--coin-gold, his mane and tail gleaming white as he frolicked around his mother. If she were any judge, Cortin thought, he'd be a prize-winner before too long. And he positively glowed with vitality--if Father Harrison had seen that kind of connection between her and the colt, she could only feel flattered. She wasn't allowed much time to think about that, though. The children wanted to show off their Young Farmer projects, so she spent the rest of the time till Margaret called them in to supper happily admiring them and giving any help the children asked for.