Page 42 of Memories of Santorini

Tamryn jammed her hands on her hips, either annoyed at the idea of Sienna and her mother horning in on all their excursions or the fact that they were taking too long. “Are we going to stand here all day admiring the port, honey? It’s going to get mighty hot if we don’t start.” With a huff, she asked, “Can I take a donkey?”

Donkeys lined the stairs, wearing colorful blankets and docile expressions.

“Whatever you want, dear,” Carter emphasized. He was easy, adaptable, never upset with a change in plans.

But as Tamryn approached a donkey, she wrinkled her nose, giving an exaggerated, “Ewwe. They stink. All right, I’ll walk.”

Not wanting to offend the Greek donkey minders, Sienna lowered her voice. “It seems cruel to make the donkeys walk all the way in this heat.”

Carter shrugged, shaking his head. “In the olden days—” he glanced at her mom with a smile. “—donkeys were used to cart everything up from the port. That was how their owners earned a living. It’s part of life here on Santorini.”

“I remember being told the same thing when I was here,” her mother added. “Even in the olden days.” They all laughed with her.

Carter raised his voice. “Let’s get this show on the road. Everyone have their water?”

They answered him with, “Yes, Dad,” and “We’re not stupid,” and laughter.

Sienna wondered just how fun this walk would actually be. 588 steps. Good God.