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Owein blinked his eyes rapidly, dispelling the threat of tears. “Me, either.”

Beth pulled back and took his face in her warm, callused hands. “Have you seen Baptiste and Henri?”

“Just did.”

She chewed on her lip. “I’ve packed a lunch for you; it’s on the breakfast table. And some gloves. Everyone over there wears gloves, or so I’ve heard.”

A chuckle bumped its way up Owein’s throat. “They often do. Have to hide those scandalous fingernails.”

Beth didn’t react to the joke, only looked up at him with the gaze of a doe. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was everything. Nervous, uncertain, sad, even a little excited. He was everything.

“I suppose that’s a stupid question, hm?” Stepping back, she put her hands on her hips. “You have to write. If I sail all the way to Portsmouth and there’s no letter—”

“I promise.” Owein’s lip ticked up in a half smile. “I will write incessantly and tell you all the gossip.”

She grinned. “Make sure you give me a primer on who everyone is first, so I can appreciate it.”

“Consider it done.”

Her eyes watered. “Oh dear.” She embraced him again. Owein hugged her back, setting his chin on her shoulder, absorbing the touch. He didn’t know when he’d get another like this. He blinked again. Succeeded in stemming the tears, but when Beth pulled away, hers flooded rivers down her cheeks. She wiped them off with her palms. “We’ll see each other again soon,” she insisted. “Soon, all right?”

Owein nodded, afraid to do more.

He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep.

“Ready”—Owein bent over, holding Hattie to his back—“set,go!”

He rushed through the trampled grass around the house as Hattie screeched in his ear, veering around the chicken coop, avoiding droppings left by his dogs, who barked and chased him, playfully nipping at his knees as they did. He rounded the final corner of the house, then spun in place, tightening his grip on Hattie’s tiny thighs to ensure she stayed seated.

“My turn! My turn!” Mabol cried, running up and tugging on the front of his shirt. “I want to ride the kinetic tram!”

“You justdid!” Hattie spat.

Owein laughed between heavy breaths. Squatted so Hattie could slide down. Aster licked her face. “One more time each, okay?”

“’Kay!” the girls sang in unison.

He loaded Mabol up. She was so light, so small. How big would she be the next time he saw her? Would she still play kinetic tram with him?

Chest tight, Owein took off at a sprint, circling the house twice this time, much to the delight of Mabol and the dogs. When Mabol disembarked, Hattie leapt on him so suddenly she elicited an “Oomph” from him. He took her around twice as well, the opposite way.

“Again!” they both screamed once he pried Hattie from his shoulders.

Owein knelt in the dirt in front of them and grabbed them, one in each arm, squeezing until they giggled. “I’m going away for a while, but we’ll play again when I get back, okay?”

“Mom told me.” Mabol tried to pull free, so Owein tickled both girls. They shrieked and squirmed. Hattie tried to tickle him back, so Owein clutched his ribs and dramatically fell over. Mabol took this opportunity to jump on his stomach knees first, and it took a great deal of acting to mask how much it hurt.

So, in revenge, he snatched both girls and rolled over, pinning them and planting a kiss on each forehead.

“Ew!” Mabol protested.

“Ew!” Hattie mimicked.

“Don’t wipe it off!” Owein ordered. “It has to last a while!”

In ripe defiance, Mabol ran the back of her hand over her forehead, then snickered, daring Owein to try again.