She was, as her grandmother had been, as her great-grandmother had been, and as her mother had tried to be, a part of this place.
Change, she told herself, was inevitable. Change was important. But it was not ever easy.
Calliope clicked on the dim light over the large wooden table that had served her family well from the day it was built. Bowls and colanders of pomegranates, persimmons and red and green apples covered the weathered, stained wood. Overhead, the wooden rack displayed hanging bundles of sage, lavender, heather and thyme and, at this time of year, double the amount of rosemary. Stacks of papers and magazines on the benches reminded Calliope of the filing she needed to do, the scanning of articles she had to catch up on. The farm took a lot of work—and education. Thankfully she belonged to a generous online community dedicated to providing the most healthy and nutritious organic food to those in their area.
It was a way for Calliope and Stella to give back to the town that gave them so much. Understanding, love and companionship. She shouldn’t want for anything. How could she? And yet...
Her heart ached with loneliness.
A loneliness oddly tempered by the brief thought of a blue-eyed man with a dimpled smile, a strand of dark hair falling over his face.
Pressing a hand against her heart, she retrieved the bowl and herbs she kept in the cabinet against the far wall. She didn’t want what was being presented to her; didn’t want to change the life she already loved, but she knew better than most that sometimes fate saw things differently. Opening her heart meant surrendering to the possibility of pain and she’d already had her fair share. And perhaps that’s why, for the first time in her life, she had led with anger and hostility. And by doing so, had only increased the unease and restlessness plaguing her.
She had to remember that dreams were about possibilities and that seeing them as such was the greatest gift she could give herself. It was a gift she’d want Stella to receive, a gift she’d tell her sister never to reject or turn away from.
So why couldn’t Calliope do the same? Why was she so determined to keep him away?
Confusion and uncertainty were not emotions Calliope had often experienced. Perhaps it was that, and not Xander, that had her reacting the way she did.
It made an odd kind of sense, she told herself. But she wasn’t entirely convinced.
She set aside the dried sage bundles, reaching instead for the myrrh she knew would help reduce the stress building inside of her. Some preferred lavender, but Calliope held a fondness for the licorice scent of the winter-inspired offering and, given the day in front of her, she wanted to use something she knew brought her peace.
As the gentle fire caught and the smoke trailed into the air, she tried to make her mind blank, but the only thing she could see—the only thing she could feel—was the presence of a man she didn’t want to think about.
Xander Costas.
Calliope sank onto the bench. She couldn’t explain what came over her whenever he appeared. She could feel what she could only describe as hostility blooming inside of her, knew it wasn’t a good thing, but even as she fought it, there was no banking it. Stella had been right when she’d reminded Calliope she was normally nice and polite to everyone. Her haughtiness, her irritation was nothing more than manifested fear over what could be.
She needed to find a way past that fear; she needed to find a way around this, through this, especially if she was going to be working with him. She needed to accept that not every handsome man passing through town meant to do harm. Fate would not be so cruel as to present someone who would hurt her—not physically at least. She needed to call a truce, if for no other reason than to ensure Butterfly Harbor was protected from his engineering machinations.
And she needed to present a good example for Stella, who had questioned Calliope extensively over dinner about why Calliope didn’t like Xander.
She didn’t not like Xander Costas. She only knew she shouldn’t trust him. At least not with her heart. Not if she hoped to escape the same broken-hearted fate as had befallen her great-grandmother, grandmother and mother before her.
Calliope took a long, deep breath, closed her eyes and inhaled the myrrh into her system. Relaxation sank into her, around her, and the tension in her body eased as her hands relaxed and her shoulders sagged. She would conquer this. She would get herself to a place where he was just another person visiting Butterfly Harbor. Just another person who would be on his way sooner than later.