Madeleine was an expert at making things happen. Hæra had been thankful for this talent many times, but she’d expressed her gratitude that evening so thoroughly that they’d overslept the next morning.

“Hæra!”

Hæra turned on her heel to see her thoughts’ object and heart’s desire hurrying toward her across the grass that led to the airstrip. Madeleine carried her overnight bag and wore a smile that looked almost bravely enthusiastic.

She was apprehensive, but there was no need. Hæra had changed in many ways over the last five years: she liked hot tea, disliked rare meat, spent far more time talking to people (they were so interesting), and had grown to enjoy mystery novels. But one thing would always remain the same: she’d never allow Madeleine Laurent to come to harm.

Hæra jogged forward to greet the woman Connor had called her “bonnie bride,” a term Hæra had decided to use well past the wedding day. The wind tugged her ponytail playfully. When she reached Madeleine, she bent down to kiss her cheek and took her overnight bag. She’d carry it for Madeleine; that was chivalrous. “Ready?” she asked eagerly.

“Hello to you too,” Madeleine said with a dryness that didn’t cover her obvious nerves. She glanced behind Hæra to look at the Cessna, which she’d once compared to a pack of gum.

“Ah yes. I forgot my etiquette again.” Hæra checked to make sure the airstrip attendant wasn’t looking, then gave Madeleine’s rear end a quick squeeze. “How are you, petal?”

“Ooh!” Madeleine swatted her hand away, but she laughed breathlessly. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You’re going to love it.” Hæra seized Madeleine’s hand and tugged her toward the plane. “Think how posh you’ll feel when we land and walk past people who had to fly commercial.”

“Just as long as we don’t crash into posh little pieces.” Madeleine slid her arm around Hæra’s waist to show the complaint was without teeth.

Hæra slung her arm around Madeleine’s shoulders in return. She might no longer be able to lift hundreds of pounds without breaking a sweat, but she’d lost no muscle mass working on the farm day in and day out. Her arms were plenty strong enough to hold Madeleine tight, no matter the occasion. “I’ll throw myself between you and the ground. Fine cushion, that.”

“Now I feel better. You’ve got all your stuff?”

Madeleine always said you needed so many things to go places. She said Hæra always forgot something, but what was the harm in sharing the occasional toothbrush? It didn’t seem very different from kissing. “Oh, probably. We’re only gone for one night. I know I’ve got my nice shirt and pants for dinner.”