“You left out part of your story earlier.”
“Oh yeah?” He stopped with his hand on the door. “What’d I miss?”
“Alkyon,” she said, her voice surer than she felt. “The widow who threw herself into the sea when she found out her husband had died in a shipwreck.”
He paused a beat before speaking. “Where’d you learn that?”
“The gods turned her into a kingfisher and renamed the bird after her. Somewhere along the line Alkyon was changed to Halcyon.”
He watched her for a moment in silence, making her stomach churn. He was older than her—midforties maybe—with bits of gray sprinkled into his dark hair. With a scruffy beard, tan skin, and crow’s-feet, he looked like someone who’d lived a good life outside, in sunshine and warm breezes.
“Do you always tell that story to the new people?” she asked.
“Yep. And you’re the first to correct me. Or to have any prior knowledge about the legend.”
Jenna shrugged. “Just thought you might want to know the rest of the story.” Rain began to fall, the drops hitting the metal porch roof like pebbles. He pulled his gaze away from her and peered out into the damp night.
She stood and tugged on her raincoat.
“You going out in this?” he asked.
“It’s just water. It won’t hurt anything.”
He grinned. It was so fast, she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been looking. The quick smile cracked the hard edges of his face, softening it and deepening the creases at the edges of his eyes. Then it was gone. He pushed the screened door and held it open. “After you.”
At the door, she zipped her raincoat up over her camera and started down the steps. At the bottom she inhaled deeply. The scent of rain mixed with salty air, Spanish moss, and sandy dirt was almost intoxicating.
“Petrichor,” Gregory said behind her. The rain hitting his jacket made a soft pat-pat-pat.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s the name of what you’re smelling. That scent when rain first starts to fall. It’s Greek. The smell of the fluid that flows in the veins of Greek gods.”
“You sure do know a lot about Greek mythology.” Jenna pulled her hood closer around her face.
“I like figuring people out. Even better if they’re not around to tell me I’m wrong.” He kept his gaze on her, making her shuffle her feet and readjust her camera strap.
“So I guess you’re my mentor.”
“It would appear so.”
“I’m not so hard to figure out. Not much to analyze.”
He cocked his head. “We’ll see.” He regarded her a moment longer, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know where you’re going?” He tipped his head to the dark expanse in front of her.
She looked toward the general direction of the cabins. At least she thought it was the right direction. She was turned around now that everything was inky dark except for the porch above. Everyone else had disappeared. “No idea.”
He took a few steps and stood next to her. “The cabins are down there.” He pointed through the trees to a faint glow. “Follow this path, two hundred yards that way. And watch out for deer. They like to come out when it rains.” He turned and headed up the path away from the porch in the opposite direction. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks,” Jenna called.
He didn’t answer.
She started down the sandy trail. The rain was still light, making a chorus of drips and drops on the branches around her. She reached up and pushed her hood back, letting the warm rain hit her face and hair, and followed the glow through the trees.
eleven
Betsy
Betsy was in the kitchen cleaning up from the girls’ dinner when Ty came in that evening, a little earlier than usual. The girls were upstairs in the empty room playing with My Little Ponys. He kicked his boots off on the porch, then crossed the kitchen to kiss her cheek. “How’d the afternoon go?” He reached into the fridge for the pitcher of tea.
“Good, I think.” She wiped the last of the spaghetti sauce from the table. “They explored the house, I took them to see the hens, then Anna Beth brought by some toys, thank goodness. They brought a couple things with them, but I don’t have much here for them to play with.”
“They don’t need much, right? We live on a farm. There’s plenty for them to do outside.”
“I guess so. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.”
Ty drained his glass and nodded. “They’ll be fine. The hens and cows should keep them occupied. Just make sure to keep them out of the way during milkings. Don’t want anyone to be trampled.” He set his glass in the kitchen sink. “I need a shower.”
“I’ll walk up with you. I closed the other doors upstairs, but Walsh seems to be pretty industrious. I found her standing on the counter in the bathroom earlier, eating toothpaste.”
Ty laughed and rubbed his hand over his face. “This is going to be interesting.”
Upstairs, he poked his head in the girls’ room. Addie was still busy with the ponies, making them “talk” to each other. Something about a parade and wearing crowns and high heels. Walsh was lying across both pillows at the top of the bed, already fast asleep, her dark hair covering half her face.
“The little one’s wiped out,” Ty whispered. He backed away from the door and headed for their bedroom.
“You don’t want to say good night to Addie?” Betsy whispered.
He shook his head. “I’ll catch her tomorrow.” He crossed into their room and closed the door behind him.
Part of her wanted to follow him in there, protected behind the closed door, but she turned back to the girls. “Let’s get you kiddos ready for bed.”
“Can I sleep with the ponies?” Addie asked quietly.
“Sure. We can tuck them in right next to you and Walsh.”
“Are we both sleeping in this?” She gestured to the double bed.
Betsy nodded. “Is that okay? I don’t have two beds for you.”
Addie scratched her chin and looked
