“Yes, Thomas?” Kneeling in the grass by little Susanna, Kendra squinted up at the impish towhead.
“We’re athletes in the Olympic games, is that not so?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Well, then…” A gleam came into his sparkling blue eyes as his hands went to the fabric draped over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we be naked?”
“Leave that on, you rapscallion!” She was hard put not to laugh at his pout. “I never said we were strictly authentic.”
“Aw, all right.” With a mischievous grin, he ran off.
“Stand still, Susanna.” Kendra tucked the girl’s “toga” more tightly, smiling to herself. Luckily her lessons hadn’t covered fashion, so her students were ignorant of the fact that the Greeks had worn solid colors, not brightly flowered calico. “There you go.”
“My thanks, Mrs. Kendra.”
“You’re very welcome.” She patted Susanna’s blond curls and stood, knowing as she sent her off that the girl would be back in a few minutes to be tucked in again.
She’d learned that togas weren’t the ideal clothing for young children.
That was her only miscalculation, though—the rest of the party had gone brilliantly. The children’s retelling of their favorite myths had been riotous. Now they were participating in Olympic “games,” and the victory wreaths she had woven from laurel leaves might as well have been solid gold crowns considering how much they were cherished. Fortunately, she’d brought enough for everyone, and she was not above fixing the contests to see that each child came out a winner.
The party was a wild success, and they hadn’t even feasted yet. Nor had she distributed the favors. Her baskets of goodies were still hiding beneath a blanket in the caleche, and she couldn’t wait to see the children’s faces when they received them.
Wrapped in stately blue stripes, young Andrew tugged on her toga. “Who are you, Mrs. Kendra?”
“Why, Hera, of course.” She looked down into adoring dark eyes—his crush had not abated over the weeks. “Do you remember who she was?”
“Zeus’s wife,” he said proudly. “And the protector of marriage.”
“Very good,” she returned, although, for her, the job description seemed an ill fit at best.
Rather than protecting her marriage, she’d sent her husband off alone. She should have argued until he agreed to let her go with him. Surely if she’d put up a fight, he would have relented—her brothers almost always did. But she’d never really tried.
Andrew shifted on his feet, looking shy. “I memorized one of the poems about her.”
“Did you?”
He nodded and began to quote.
“Golden-throned Hera, among immortals the queen,
Chief among them in beauty, the glorious lady
All the blessed in high Olympus revere,
Honor even as Zeus, the lord of the thunder.”
He finished with an awkward bow that should have brought a smile to Kendra’s lips. But in contrast to the Hera of the poem, she was feeling anything but glorious at the moment.
“Mrs. Kendra? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Andrew.” Amazed at the young man’s perception, she forced a smile. “Mrs. Jackson is organizing a chariot race,” she said brightly, glancing over to where the buxom woman was lining up four wheelbarrows. “I imagine a tall, strong boy like you, with little Susanna in his chariot, could come out a winner. Run along now—I’m fine.”
But despite how well the party was going, she wasn’t fine at all.
Trick should have been here. He was supposed to have been Zeus.
He’d made this happen, repeatedly risking his life to feed and shelter these boys and girls. Her gaze followed Andrew as he joined the other laughing children. None of them, herself included, would be here today without Trick.
