The three of them bunch together in a silent group hug , heads turned and looking out to sea . She feels truly in her body again for the first time since that day months ago when her husband ' s specialist said " inoperable ".
Her daughter ' s head rests on her shoulder . In front , the little one wriggles , chattering . The sound makes her smile .
She never told anyone about the woman in the water that day . But when the child ' s name was chosen seven years ago , she felt curiously comforted . As if her own daughter had known . As if they were all party to some eternal secret through Hestia and her namesake …
The current drags and pushes . If she just let go it might sweep her away altogether . But she doesn ' t . She won ' t . There ' s too much still to do . She is still the Virgin Priestess . The Continuity . The Eye of her own storm .
As they wade back to the shore , a movement atop the dunes catches her eye . A shape flickers - a woman perhaps , long hair and dress flowing , a smile of infinite patience . A puff of wind and the shadow is gone .