Chapter 1: Walking

24-year-old Donna Sheridan smiled lovingly down at her year-old toddler, Sophie, as they toddled along the beach of Kalokairi, just beyond the ferry docks. The Earth had spun on its axis nearly twice since Donna - fresh off of graduation from Oxford's New College - had struck out on her own.

Although, Donna would have been forgiven if she had not noticed the Earth continuing to spin, for it was roughly a year ago that she had known a love so new and crippling, simply gazing at the embodiment of that love made her nearly weep.

Sophie had not been an easy pregnancy. All the more difficult because Donna had no idea who was the father, who blessed her with such a gift before fleeing like a ghost. There were three likely candidates - one British, one Swede, one American - but Donna had had them so close together, it was impossible to tell from whom her child had been conceived. In the months since Sophie's birth, she had observed her daughter both closely and from afar, looking for clues. Did she have the pleading, almost boyishly innocent gaze of Harry Bright, the British baker who had been so wet-behind-the-ears, Donna had gone to bed with him almost out of pity? Sophie had blonde hair that was blinding in the sun, just like Bill Anderson, the dashing Swedish sailor who had seduced her on his boat, as they sailed bound for the island. Perhaps that made sense, for Donna remembered Bill saying once that he had a relative who lived on the far side of Kalokairi. If only she had gotten the relative's name, so she could seek him out for a second opinion. Genes were known to skip a generation, right? But then, Sophie would disarm her with a look, with piercing eyes that... could they be from...?

Donna swallowed the lump in her throat. The American architect, Sam Carmichael. It was difficult to even think his name, for it was he who had loved her, then betrayed her and left her swollen with child... possibly. Well, his hand in the pregnancy was possible, but his betrayal - leaving her for a fiancé waiting back in the States - was all too indisputable. Their love, their passionate nights having sex... as much as Donna tried to banish them, those were real, too.

From the start, the tiny Grecian island had called to her, like one of the Sirens of this nation's myths. But Donna was no Calypso, and she had not turned her men - her lovers - into pigs. They had done that themselves, Sam worst of all.

Pausing several yards beyond the ferry dock, the waters sparkling in the high noon sun, Donna raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare as she slowly backed a tentative step, then two, then three, then four, away from her daughter. Sophie blinked at her mother curiously, swaying a little in concern, though she did not fall. She was adept enough at standing on her own. The next test was what was crucial...

Donna knelt in the sand, the coarse grains tickling her bare feet. "Come on, Sophie! Come to Mama!"

Sophie put a finger to her lips, almost as if in thought, and then... took a teetering step. Donna gasped, hardly daring to believe it. Sophie paused, shaking a little, but maintained her balance. Another step, firmer this time, only to be followed by an unsteady third that nearly sent Sophie into the tide-kissed shoreline. A fourth step, with Donna in reach, and Sophie half-fell into her arms.

"You did it! You did it, Sophie!" Donna squealed, beaming and brimming with pride. "Mama is so proud of you!" Picking her up, Donna nuzzled the child close, as she thought sadly: And Daddy would be too... wherever and whoever he is.