Page 124 of Stars in Umbra
The flyer touched down on a smooth landing pad beside a post-and-rail paddock where two horses grazed in the distance.
As the ramp hissed open, the cool, fresh air hit him, bringing with it the scent of smoke, eucalyptus, and baking.
Rina’s mother appeared first, barefoot in the grass, her apron dusted with flour.
She had an earthbound presence, robust in frame, arms flecked with the scars of farm work, hair gathered into a loose plait shot through with silver.
Her face had the same sculpted beauty as Rina’s, with smooth, beautiful skin, with only a few lines around her eyes that gave away her age.
Behind her ambled a man, silver-haired, with a kind face, in coveralls still smudged with grease and wood dust.
Taller than his wife, he had a more contemplative air, his smile slow to form, but honest when it arrived.
Rina didn’t wait. She ran into her parents’ arms with the abandon of unbridled love.
Mo hesitated, then followed, slower, more wary.
‘Mo, please meet my parents Hanna and Reth.’
Hanna turned from her daughter to Mo, her flour-dusted palms reaching for his arm with no hesitation. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’
She clasped his calloused, scarred hands, which dwarfed hers, and tugged him forward into the fold of the house.
‘We’re so glad you came. Rina told us a friend needed a few days of fresh country air, and we couldn’t refuse.’
Mo had no words for the emotion that bloomed in his chest.
He glanced at the warmth of her palms, then back to her twinkling eyes and the effortless welcome within.
He also appreciated the way she didn’t flinch from his size, the scars on his arms, or the subtle gleam of his pulsing sigils flaring across his skin.
‘You’ve come at the perfect time,’ she continued as they walked toward the house. ‘Our autumn bounty is finally kicking in. The vegetable patch across the road has frost-hardy plants coming up, such as spinach, broad beans, and kale; you have to use a machete to harvest them. The purple sweet potatoes are ripe now, and the citrus is emerging strong. Navels are the first to turn. We’ll have to beat the crows to them. They love to bore a hole, eat the insides, and leave the skins like cheeky little ghosts.’
Reth gave Mo a solid handshake and a quiet smile. ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Molan. We’ve got the room.’
‘SanteReth and Hanna,’ Mo rasped.
With seven bedrooms, the spacious house seemed to go on forever, its thick wooden beams and heavy stone benchtops echoing the strength of the land it sat upon.
Rina gave him a quick tour.
‘Father built it this way so all four of my siblings, their partners, and the three grandchildren who ran riot through the orchard in summer, can visit anytime.’
They passed through the open-plan kitchen and living room, light pouring through high windows. The butler’s pantry peeked behind a glass door, and a narrow staircase led to a wine cellar below.
‘That’s all, Reth,’ Hanna said, nodding toward the stairs. ‘He’s always had an eye for a good vintage.’
Inside, the textures were rich and lived-in: natural stone, soft woods, woven throws slung across armchairs, and glimmers of gold on drawer handles and lantern fixtures.
The aroma in the house was a blend of garlic and rosemary, dough rising, and clean timber.
Hanna led him into the kitchen, where an island the size of a small craft dominated the space.
The polished wood, humble yet stately, gleamed under the warm glow of pendant lights.
‘We spend most of our time in here,’ she said, patting the smooth benchtops. ‘Whether we’re reading in the sun or prepping dinner for twenty.’
Mo stood still, hands planted on the edge of the bench, grounding himself.
