~o~O~o~
“Alison . . . I hate to ask, but, can you take Gampy down to Sand Beach? I’ve got to answer this work email, and get dinner started.” Doris gave her daughter what she hoped was a grateful smile – or at least a pleading one.

“You sure, Mom? It’s kind of been like a ritual for you two.” Ali wasn’t trying to get out of work; she was far too conscientious for anything like that. Rather, she was genuinely surprised at the request. “We’re here all week!”

“I know, Sweetie. And I’d love to go – you know I would. But he’s really insistent. He says it got to be today, and . . . well. It’s always been September 1.”

Alison drew her long blond hair back and wrapped it in a scrunchie. “Okay, Mom. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, but he’ll be slow on the sand even with my help.”

Doris looked at her daughter and smiled, thinking she must have done something right to be so blessed. Ali was a star student, she was absolutely stunning from head to toe, and yet she was still kind, thoughtful, and genuinely decent. Doris couldn’t resist dropping the spatula and giving the girl – the young woman, now – a big hug. “Thanks, kid. Have I mentioned I love you?”

“All the way to the moon and back,” her daughter replied, finishing the ritual they’d kept so long ago they barely remembered starting it.

Alison grabbed the keys, stuck her phone in the back pocket of her tight shorts, and bounded out to the main living area of their rental, where she found Grandma Ianthe – a rail-thin, tempestuous 70-year-old – arguing with the man everyone else called “Gampy.”

Gampy had to be in his nineties, but no-one really knew his exact age. Grandma – Doris’s mom – was his only child, and Alison thought that was probably a good thing. No parent could have managed a second child like that!

“You're just being stubborn!” Ianthe exclaimed, exasperated. “The sun’ll be down in 45 minutes, for crying out loud! Just once, would it kill you to wait ’til tomorrow?”

“Perhaps it would.” Gampy smiled. Seeing Ali bounce in, keys jangling in her hand, made him smile even more. “You never know. But unless I miss my guess, this fair maiden is my ride, and I don’t want to keep her waiting!”

“God! You’re such a butt!”

He raised a hand – boney, wrinkled, spotted by age – and brushed his index finger against her red cheek. “I love you, too, Ianthe.” It could have sounded snarky, but it didn’t. If anything, his response was even more tender than usual. Turning to his great-granddaughter, he said, “At your service, Miss!”

“I kinda think I’m at your’s, Gampy,” she laughed. Gampy always made her laugh. Actually, he made everyone laugh.

They took the path to the driveway where the Suburban was parked. He moved slowly, and he took an old walking stick along to steady himself. Ianthe had given up trying to get him to use a proper cane, much less a walker; both Doris and Alison had more sense than to try in the first place. Gentle he might be, but he could match anyone when it came to stubborn.

Even his fiery daughter.

Ali did have to help him pivot his now-scrawny knees and rear-end and maneuver him into the passenger seat. She conscientiously buckled him in, shut the door, and trotted around to the driver’s side.

Once they were on their way, she said, “Gampy, don’t take this the wrong way, ’cuz I’m happy to drive you down to the beach. But . . . I think Mom really wanted to do this with you. Does it have to be today?”

“I’ve been coming here on September 1st for longer than your mom’s been alive, Pumpkin. Longer than your Grandma has, for that matter. Can’t break the tradition.”

“Why, though?”

He gave his granddaughter a side-eyed look and a grin. “Well, maybe that’s the only day I might bump into the God of the Sea!”

“Gampy!”

“Well, don’t believe me then,” he chuckled, then reached over and squeezed her knee. “Just get me there on time.”

They pulled into the parking lot. Despite the late hour, they still had to hunt to find an open spot. The beach wasn’t especially noteworthy for its sunsets, but it was still the Sand Beach, at Acadia National Park, and it was still – technically – summer, so the crowds would be there. But a spot opened up, and they began walking, slowly and steadily, as the shadows grew longer.

The path through the trees was well-trod, and Ali didn’t have to do much to keep Gampy on an even keel. Then they came out the other side, and one of the more spectacular views on the North American continent opened up before them. The perfect beach, framed by the wooded hills, opening onto Newport Cove, and out beyond, the vast swell of the Atlantic.

Cresting the small rise, they startled a seagull into indignant flight. Its plaintive cry was immediately echoed by others closer to the water, who were as ever on the lookout for untended – or lightly tended – foodstuffs.

“God, I love this view!” Ali said, caught in wonder as she always was. She turned her head, eager to share the moment, and was startled to see a look of incredible, almost breathtaking longing in the old man’s eyes.

“Gampy?” When he didn’t respond, she touched his arm gently. “Gampy, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I miss it so much.”

Puzzled, she asked, “the beach?”

“The sea, child. The ocean.”

He fell silent, and she slipped an arm across his bony shoulders. Gampy was always so upbeat; his sudden introspection was startling. Not knowing what else to say, Alison murmured, “I’m sorry.”

He patted her hand absently as his eyes scanned the scene before them.

There weren’t too many more weekends left before school would start for everyone, and people were squeezing every last moment they could out of it. Plenty of people were still on the sands. Kids with their parents. Young people, arms linked. A wave rolled in, carrying a body-surfer with it. Even at a distance, his exuberant laughter carried as he tumbled onto the sand.

A breath of breeze brought all the smells of the seashore – the salt, and the brine. Ali’s floppy hat tried to lift away and she caught it with her left hand, just in time.

Gampy usually would have been quick with a joke. Instead, he said, “Ali . . . I need to go down to the water.”

“Of course! Mom said it was part of the tradition! I’ll help you.”

He nodded. “I think you’ll have to. Not feeling very steady today.”

They got themselves down to the level area. Before they stepped out onto the sand, Gampy paused and said softly, “We’re going to meet someone today, okay?”

“Umm . . . Okay?” She stretched out the second word, giving it a tentative twist.

“I’ll need your help, but once we’re there, I want you to promise that you won’t speak. This man is . . . he’s dangerous. Not to me. Not anymore. But I don’t trust him. Just get me close, and I’ll do the rest.”

“Gampy,” Ali said firmly. “You’re scaring me. Are you having some kind of attack?”

“No!” For the first time in her life, she saw the flash of anger in the old man’s eyes. “I have waited years for this . . . decades! I have to go!” Seeing her fear – fear, obviously, for him – his eyes softened. “Ali . . . Pumpkin . . . trust me. Just trust me.”

She shook her head, baffled at this sudden change in the sweet and light-hearted man she’d known all her life. In a small voice, she said, “Okay, Gampy. I promise.”

She held him close, and he shuffled forward, the sifting sands combining with all of the infirmities of age to make the walk both slow and painful. Gampy kicked off his sandals when they started to trip him up, and did better barefoot.

It became clear that they were aiming for the body surfer, who was now sprawled on the beach, sunning himself. Ali gave their target as careful a look as attention to her task permitted. Powerfully built, with a broad, tanned chest and long, heavily-muscled legs and arms, he wore a full, curly, chestnut beard and . . . not much else. His swimwear, she noticed with a blush, was barely adequate to its purpose.

Under his breath, Gampy muttered, “Showoff.”

“What’s that?”

“Hush.”

When they were still a few yards from the recumbent figure, Gampy squeezed Ali’s hand and signaled her to stop. He looked straight into her sky-blue eyes, silently reminding her of her promise, then held up a hand, indicating that she should wait.

With slow, shuffling steps, leaning heavily on his walking stick, Gampy crossed the distance between them and the man . . . and kept going. Step by step, he went closer to the water. When it was lapping at his bare feet, he turned.

For a long moment, Gampy stared at the man before him – a man who must be aware of him, but had chosen to ignore his presence. Grasping his walking stick with both hands, he lowered himself, inch by inch, until first one knee and then the other sank into the soft sand. With equal care, he laid down his stick, bent his head, and said a single word.

“Father.”

The man bent his knee just enough to idly wriggle his toes into the sand. As his silent dismissal of Gampy continued, Ali felt herself bristle. She wanted to scream at the stranger in the sand, but her promise held her – as did that one word. Father?

Finally, the man opened an eye and looked at the one who had so named him. “You’re looking worse for the wear!”

“Yes.”

“You learn anything, while you were collecting all those butt-ugly wrinkles?”

Gampy nodded, sadly. “Yes, Father. I learned.”

The younger man yawned, then raised his upper body, leaning on his elbows. “Do tell.”

“The life of a man is hard, Father. As you said. And their hearts break even easier than their bodies.”

“Your heart was broken, was it?”

Gampy nodded sadly. “It was. It is. I didn’t deserve her. I could not even give myself to her completely; my heart was always with the sea. With my sisters. But, oh! I did love her, Father! For the first time ever, I wanted to be a mortal man. Not only that – I wanted to be the strongest, the wisest, the most courageous man the world had ever seen!”

“Spurned you, did she?”

“No.” Gampy’ downcast eyes filled with tears. “No. She took me, and she loved me, and she gave me a beautiful, wild, and headstrong daughter, with hair the color of straw and eyes like the autumn sky. And still she came with me every year, came here, knowing I might have to face your judgment.”

The man sat up fully, crossing his legs and resting his hands lightly on his knees. “What you have experienced in this life is precious, and not given to everyone – neither gods nor men. Why do you weep?”

“Seven years and fifty we had together, and it was not enough. I will never stop loving her.”

“She was a mortal,” the man said gently. “You knew this must be the result.”

“I knew. And yet I could do no other. Where she went, I had to follow.”

The strange man was silent, and Gampy wept without sound.

Ali had been listening with disbelief to the totally bizarre and incredible exchange. What was Gampy even talking about? His words made no sense to her. But his tears were raw, and real, and her heart broke to see them.

The seated man straightened, his shoulders went back, and his resting hands assumed almost an attitude of formality. “I vowed that 100,000 tides would wash the sands of this beach before I would relent and return. But for the beauty of the day and a lovely wave that I couldn't resist, I would have passed by again.”

“I understand, Father.”

“But I am here, and I might as well make the most of it. Have you repented of your misdeeds?”

“I have. I do.”

He scrutinized Gampy carefully, then grunted. “Do you begin to understand my anger?”

“More than that, Father. I share it.” Gampy’s voice carried conviction.

“Do you, indeed?” The bearded man cocked his head, considering Gampy’s response, before replying. “In that case, tell me. If I gave you the power of judgment, would you confirm the penalty I first decreed?”

Gampy raised his head and met the other man’s gaze with determined eyes. “Willingly.”

“Have you tired, then, of carrying your burden?”

“Yes. I am beyond done. It’s been a good life, with many joys, but I can’t keep going. I have reached my end. I would only ask that you revoke your ban, and let me die in my own element. Let the sea take me, one more time.”

At his words, Ali could no longer restrain herself. “Gampy, no!!!” Instantly, her hand flew to her mouth.

The man Gampy called “Father” grinned like a wolf and looked back over his shoulder. “Ooooh! What have we here?”

“No, Father!” Gampy spoke urgently. “She’s innocent, and meant no disrespect!”

“Hair the color of straw, and eyes like the autumn sky, you said?”

“Please, Father!”

“You don’t think she should take your former place? All that work, left unattended?”

“Her mother, and her mother’s mother – it would destroy them!”

“Oh, come. No pain, no gain, right?” The man’s voice and eyes grew hard. “Isn’t that what you said to the sailor lad?”

Gampy bent forward, placing his forehead into the sand. “Forgive me! Take your justice on me however you wish, but spare her!”

Ali opened her mouth to protest, but the man made a gesture with his hand and she froze.

“No, no. No more interruptions.” Then he rose and looked at the old man, prostrate in the sand at his feet. “Enough. Take my hand.”

Trembling, Gampy returned to a crouch, then took the man’s outstretched hand in both of his own. Effortlessly, the man brought him back to his feet.

“This is truly your request? To return to the sea, one last time?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Walk with me, then.” Step by step, the man led Gampy down to where the water frothed and bubbled.

Ali wanted to call out, to run to him. But she was frozen in place; she could not even weep.

A wave surged forward, and only the man’s strong hand on his back kept Gampy upright. His free arm flailed in an effort to regain balance.

“Bah,” the other man said. “This is no way to get used to the water!” He grabbed Gampy by his scrawny old hips and hurled him forward and up as if he were light as a child.

Without so much as a cry, the old man somersaulted through the air, hit the water with a mighty splash, and vanished beneath the waves.

The stranger returned to the beach, looking pleased with himself, and strode to where Ali stood motionless. “There! That’s settled.” Brushing sand from his hands, he added, “I am Okeanos. You may call me . . . I don’t know. Something else. ‘Okeanos’ seems like kind of a lot, these days.”

Ali glared at him.

“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You can’t call me anything at all, because you can’t speak. Well, no matter. Easy to fix.” He grinned and snapped his fingers.

Her first word, on regaining her ability to move, was biting. “Murderer!”

“Do you call judges murderers these days? That seems harsh.”

“Some ‘judge!’ You could have asked anyone — anyone! — and they would have told you Gampy was a good man! A decent man! He didn’t deserve to die!”

“He asked to die,” Okeanos said mildly.

“He was heartsick. He said so! People say things like that, when they’re hurting! You can’t just . . . .” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

He folded his arms and cocked his head. “Can’t I? You think I should defer to your wisdom? Even when you have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Yes! Yes, I . . . .” Ali paused as her brain engaged. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean almost everything you said was wrong.”

“How?”

“You assert that this . . . what did you call him?”

“‘Gampy.’ Everyone calls him ‘Gampy,’ except Grandma.”

His nose wrinkled with distaste. “I may stick with ‘Okeanos,’ even in this age. Ghastly names you’re using now. Anyway . . . You assert that ‘Gampy’ was a good and decent man. Not so.”

“He was—“

“Stop!” He held up a hand. “I will use power if I need to, but simple courtesy should be sufficient to keep you from interrupting.”

His reminder of the power he could wield made her wary. “Sorry.”

“The assertion is incorrect, since ‘Gampy’ was neither male, nor, indeed, human at all. Hence, not a ‘man,’ good, bad, or middling. And judging a nymph by human standards would be folly.”

“A nymph? You’re saying Gampy was your . . . daughter?”

“I wouldn’t deny it, certainly. For one thing, Tethys would make my life miserable if I did.”

“So you killed your daughter? Just like that?”

“Should I have made a production out of it? Blown a conch shell? Beat some drums?” He shrugged. “You put far too much weight on kinship; no wonder you’re such a poor judge. Yes, she’s my daughter, but I have three thousand of the troublesome creatures literally floating around. Even Tethys can barely keep them all straight.”

“Maybe Gampy didn’t mean anything to you,” she retorted, her anger overcoming her earlier caution. “But he meant the world to me, and mom. And even Grandma.”

Okeanos met her hot gaze calmly, and for once laughter left his eyes and his voice was sad. “Child of a short-lived race, once again you are beyond wrong. You could not be more wrong. You fear death, for always, it is at your side, and comes too soon. For a Titan or their offspring . . . death can be a mercy. That was what ‘Gampy’ requested. What my daughter begged me to allow.” He shook his head. “I wept to deny her.”

“Wait. You denied her?”

“Tethys was certain that a mortal lifetime would be sufficient punishment, and she was proven right. As usual. I could not add to a just punishment without doing injustice — not even if doing so would have been a mercy.”

As he was speaking, the water behind Okeanos rippled. A gold-crowned head broke the surface, and eyes the color of the sea sought the place where they stood. Once the swimmer located them, she rose from the waves and stepped lightly onto the shore.

With lissom grace, the woman crossed the sand, her shimmering, iridescent raiment gleaming like the scales of a fish. In a fluid motion completely unlike Gampy’s earlier, arthritic effort, she knelt at her father’s feet. “Must I?”

“You would not let me take this bold and foolish child in your place.”

“No.”

“Then that is my judgment. Do you question it?”

She shook her head sadly. “No, Father.”

“Say your farewells, then. Your tasks await you.” Without another word, he took a running leap, and disappeared into a wave.

The woman was, without question, the most beautiful creature Ali had ever seen, and she could not believe such a vision could be her treasured great-grandfather.

Seeing the shock, surprise and confusion in Ali’s eyes, the bright-haired nymph bent to scoop up a handful of wet sand. She let it drip through her fingers, forming a small drip stack on the sand. Twice more she repeated the action, until Ali knelt and joined her, adding to the tiny drip castle.

After a few minutes, the woman said, “Remember the year that huge family decided to help us, and we got the castle almost five feet tall before the tide took it?” Her voice was soft and melodious, like the murmuring of waves at eveningtide.

“Yeah.” Ali dripped another handful of sand onto their stack, then scooped up another. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“What do I even call you? ‘Gampy’ doesn’t seem right anymore.”

“No.” The woman smiled. “It’s close, though. My name is Xanthe.”

“Like Grandma’s name, but with a ‘z’ instead of an ‘i’?”

A dimple appeared in a perfect cheek. “Stick to those hard sciences, kiddo. Like your Grandma’s, but with an ‘X.’”

“Oh.” Ali added another couple handfuls of dripped sand. “And you're a . . . nymph?”

“An Okeanid, if you want to get technical. Nymph will do.”

“That guy — he said his name was . . . .” AIi stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

“Okeanos. Yup. His 3000 daughters are called the Okeanids.”

“What did you do to piss him off so bad?”

Sand ran slowly through Xanthe’s slender fingers. “My sisters and I have tended to the ocean and its creatures for thousands of years. It’s important work, but . . . you might say, a bit monotonous? I let myself get bored and took some shore leave. It turns out, men found this form pleasing.”

Ali raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no shit.”

“I ‘had fun.’ I thought it was fun, anyway. But one of the sailors — one that Father favored, for his boldness — couldn’t get me out of his mind. I wanted the thrill of being chased, and he obliged. But a nymph is not so easy to catch. After years of chasing, he despaired and threw himself into the sea.”

“And that was somehow your fault?”

Xanthe’s response was firm. “Absolutely, it was!”

“But he—“

“No. Alison, think! If you led on some poor fourteen-your-old boy and he ended his life, would you be responsible?”

Ali recoiled. “Your sailor was fourteen?”

“Thirty at the least. But don’t you see? I’m so old ‘years’ don’t even have any meaning. I remember the great flood.”

“OMG!”

“Well . . . not really. Just a nymph. Anyway — to finish answering your question, Father was furious and sentenced me to death. But at my Mother’s insistence he stayed his sentence and gave me the form of a mortal man, to experience their life and perhaps learn wisdom. I was to return here every year, to someday face his final judgment.”

“Like exile?”

“Very much like exile.”

The girl absorbed that, working in silence for a few minutes before asking, “what was it like for you?”

Xanthe quirked Gampy’s familiar half smile, and despite the beauty of her voice, she sounded like the beloved figure Ali had known her whole life. “Being male was super weird, girl. Gotta tell ya.”

Ali couldn’t contain a snort.

“And it wasn’t just the dangly parts, or the body that was as graceful as a grain sack.” Xanthe shrugged. “It was the way people interacted with me, and the way I was expected to interact with them. There was never a moment when that body felt like mine.”

The thought made Ali shiver. “That . . . I mean, God, that sounds creepy!”

“Is it really so different from the human experience?”

“What do you mean?”

“I lived in that body, but I was always conscious that it was ‘on loan.’ I lived in your world, but always knew that I was not of it. Your philosophers and theologians say the same, don’t they?”

“I guess.” Ali lapsed into silence.

Seeing the turn of the girl’s head, the set of her jaw, even the tightening of the skin around her eyes, twisted the hurt in Xanthe’s heart. She knew Alison as well as she knew the many colors of the deep sea, and the thought of parting was unbearable. But she told herself firmly that she would deal with her own hurts later. “What is it, Pumpkin? What’s bothering you?”

“I can’t believe I never had a clue. I thought you were the happiest, sunniest most . . I don’t know — joyful — person in the whole world.” She shook her golden head. “I’m such an idiot!”

Xanthe reached across the drip castle and gently brought Ali’s chin up. “What do you see, when you look out at the ocean?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Right now. Tell me what you see.”

“Well, I see waves?”

Xanthe smiled. “You see more than that. Much more! Shall I tell you what you are seeing?”

“What?”

“The sun is low on the horizon; its last rays are kissing the white caps where the breakers are, making them flash like spun strands of crystal. You see all the greens of the bay — lime and teal and lawn and turquoise, shot through with swirls of emerald — meet the Atlantic’s deep blue.
Blue so dark it goes indigo. You see the froth of the surf, pink and lavender and chartreuse in the final light of day. You see all that, don’t you?”

Ali took in the words, and saw the scene with fresh eyes. “Yeah,” she breathed, captivated.

“And that — all of it! — is real. It’s real, and it’s beautiful.”

“Okay . . . .” Ali shook her head, as if breaking a trance, then repeated more strongly, “Okay. I agree — but what’s that got to do with what we were talking about?”

“When we were together and you saw how happy I was, that was real, just like your view of the ocean right now is real. But . . . I’m more than what you see, just like that ocean, right now, is so much more than what a creature of air may ever experience. The darkest dark, the coldest cold. Things more strange and beautiful and even frightful than the mind of man can imagine! Oh, Ali, it’s an amazing, rich and strange country . . . and so am I.”

Ali looked back at the ocean, then at the nymph who knelt beside her in the sand. “You could have let us see — let me see — something other than the sunlight on the surface. We would have been there for you.”

“I don’t doubt that you would have. But when you were with me — and your mom, your grandma, and her mom — those were always the best times for me. I wanted them to be joyful. I wanted to give you the sunlight.”

At the mention of her mom and grandma, Ali said, “you have to come back and tell them . . . . You have to tell them everything.”

“I can’t, Ali,” she said as gently as she could. “I can’t leave the beach, and I have to leave with the tide.”

Ali leapt to her feet. “What! You didn’t tell me that! We should have called them!”

Xanthe rose, tall and slender. “There was never time for more than one explanation. In a way, I’m glad it was with you. You have your mother’s heart and your Grandma’s spirit.”

“What am I going to tell them?” Ali teared up. “You didn’t even say goodbye!”

Xanthe folded her great-grandaughter into her arms and cradled the girls’ head to her bosom. “I told them about this, years ago. Each of them. Just like I told you on the drive down.”

“Come on! I thought you were joking.”

“None of you believed me, and who can blame you? Year after year, decade after decade, I came, and Father didn’t. You didn’t know it, but I’ve been finding ways to say my goodbyes since the day each of you was born.”

“What do you mean?” Ali sniffed.

“Is there any doubt in your mind – any at all – that I love you?”

“No!”

“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt that?”

Ali’s head shook almost violently. “No! Never!”

Xanthe kissed the crown of her head, blinking back tears of her own. “That’s how I’ve been saying ‘goodbye,’ child. Tell my daughter that, would you? And your wonderful mom, too.”

Ali pulled back just far enough to look into Xanthe’s eyes – eyes as beautiful as her own, and as full of love and tears. “We won’t ever see you again, will we?”

“I have tasks that are mine to do, and they have been neglected. But . . . come here, to this cove, on the first of September. If my father permits, and if I can be spared, I may be able to see you.”

“Next year?”

Xanthe smiled sadly. “It doesn’t work that way. I can’t promise the year without binding the Sea God, and the Sea God can’t be bound.”

Ali shook her head, not understanding at all. Not wanting to understand. But she said, “Okay.”

“I love you, Pumpkin.”

Ali choked out, “I love you all the way to the moon!”

“And back again,” Xanthe replied. She gave the young woman a last, tender kiss before slipping from her grasp and flowing down the beach, like mist that retreats with the coming of day.

At the water, the nymph looked back a final time, her eyes filled with love and loss and longing. Then she turned her face toward the sea and raised her arms high. In response to her invocation, a wave surged forward, captured her in a loving embrace, and bore her back to the home from which she had so long been exiled.

Alison walked forward, for once finding no bounce in her step, until she felt the water caress her feet. She stayed until fierce, fiery Venus was visible over the water, trying to find the courage to return and tell the news to those who waited.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Alison jumped. “Grandma! How did you know?”

Ianthe put her arm around her granddaughter’s narrow waist. “I always thought it was a stupid story. But Momma told me it wasn’t, just before she died.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know . . . maybe I still didn’t believe it. Maybe I didn’t want to. But when you didn’t come back when you said you would, and you didn’t answer your phone, I knew.”

“Mom?”

“She’ll be here.”

They stood together, at the water’s edge, lost in their own thoughts and memories, as the Great Bear paced the night sky, and the Eagle, the Archer, and the Scorpion, took their stations, as they had in days long gone, when the world was new and Xanthe herself was but a child. The moon rose, silver against the black, and Doris came and stood on her daughter’s other side, sharing their silence.

“Before he left . . . before she left . . . did you get to see her?” Ianthe’s question was so soft, it was almost lost in the gentle sigh of the waves.

But Alison heard it and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“What was she like?”

“She was beautiful.” Ali wiped away a tear. “Beautiful, graceful, feminine. So full of love — that part was still Gampy. But she was sad, Grandma. So very, very sad.”

Ianthe nodded, understanding immediately. “Momma thought Xanthe’s heart was divided. She loved us, so she wanted to be what we needed her to be. She still does. But . . . who we need her to be, isn’t who she is.”

“I loved Gampy, but . . . .” Ali paused, trying to think of the right way to articulate the jumble of her feelings.

Her mother’s half-hug tightened. “You wish you’d really known her, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” The young woman gazed at the moon’s silver reflection dancing on the inky surface of the deeps, and sighed. “She always wanted to give us the sunlight.”

– The end.

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.