Chapter 9
Athena
“The hardest person to forgive is often yourself.”
—Eloisa Hobby
The sight of her younger sister perched on an examination table, an elastic bandage wrapped around her ankle as Reid Thornton hovered, triggered Athena’s protective instincts. She didn’t trust that guy.
Reid’s palms flew up and pushed out through the air toward her. “Whoa, easy there, champ. I—”
“He did nothing wrong,” Calista said. “Reid found me after I twisted my ankle and brought me here. That’s all, Athena.”
Her rage deflated like a punctured carnival balloon. “Oh.”
Heat spread across her nape, and in her mind’s eye, she saw her golf coach shaking his head and scowling. And how does jumping to conclusions serve you, Athena? Her coach had been talking about golf, but the criticism applied here as well.
The nurse practitioner, a no-nonsense woman with the build of a weight lifter, cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve established Mr. Thornton’s innocence, perhaps we could focus on the patient?”
“Right, of course,” Athena mumbled, trying to regain her dignity. She smoothed her skirt, a nervous habit left over from childhood. “Lissy, are you okay? What happened?”
Lissy.
She hadn’t called her sister that since . . . well, since Demetra abandoned them. It had been their mother’s nickname for Calista, and their father had forbidden Athena from using it just as he’d forbidden Calista from calling her Attie.
Calista’s head shot up, and she locked gazes with her sister. Her face softened, and she let out a heavy sigh. “I had a run-in with an ostrich, don’t ask.”
Athena blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say ostrich? As in, the giant flightless bird?”
“No, I meant the tiny flying ones that wave magic wands and grant wishes,” Calista said.
“It was quite the sight.” Reid chuckled. “I found her at the edge of a cliff, looking as if she’d gone ten rounds with Big Bird.”
Athena’s anger flared again, and she narrowed her eyes at the interloper. “I’m sure you were thrilled to find her in distress. What a scoop, right? ‘Former LPGA star attacked by exotic bird on quirky island.’ I can see your YouTube thumbnail now.”
Reid’s easygoing demeanor cracked like a dropped egg. “Look, Athena, I know we have a complicated history, but I was just trying to help.”
“Help?” Athena scoffed, her sarcasm thick enough to pour over pancakes. “Like you ‘helped’ when you dumped her at sixteen? Or hounded her after Chevron?”
As the words left her mouth, a small, rational part of Athena’s brain whispered, Oh no! It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, except she was both the train and the wreck.
“That’s enough.” Calista’s voice, quiet but sharp, cut through Athena’s rant. “Reid, thank you. I appreciate the ride into town, but you can go now.”
Reid nodded. His jaw clenched strong enough to crack walnuts. “I hope your ankle feels better soon, Cal.” He paused at the door, turning back to face them. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry . . . for everything.”
And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
Athena crossed her arms over her chest and sagged against the wall. She felt as winded as if she had run a marathon in her designer heels. “I’m so sorry, Calista. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”
Her sister stared, hard-eyed. “No, you shouldn’t have. Reid was just trying to help. Your outburst complicated things.”
A wave crashed over Athena. She’d come here to make amends, and instead, she made them worse. Story of her life, really.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . I saw you hurt and him there, and I jumped to conclusions. My brain short-circuited.”
“Some things never change,” Calista said. “But I no longer need your protection. I haven’t needed you in years.”
Athena gulped, hurt to the quick.
The nurse practitioner, who’d observed their drama with saintly patience, stepped forward. “All right, ladies. Family therapy is two doors down. Right now, let’s focus on this ankle.” She helped Calista off the table, supporting her as she tested her weight. “How’s that feel?”
Calista winced. “Hurts a little, but I’ll live.”
“I’ll give you an anti-inflammatory pill and a cane to use but try to stay off it for today and keep it elevated whenever you can.
Avoid activities that cause pain or swelling.
Use an ice pack for twenty minutes every three hours for the next two days while you’re awake.
After that, switch to heat until the swelling is gone. ”
“Thanks,” Calista said.
The nurse practitioner unlocked a cabinet, removed a pill bottle, opened the lid, shook out two blue pills, filled a paper cup with water from the faucet, and handed the tablets to Calista.
She washed them down and handed the cup back to the woman.
The nurse then opened a small closet and took out a cane carved in the shape and color of a giraffe. “You can return the cane later.”
“Thank you.”
Athena offered her arm to Calista. “Let me help you.”
Calista leaned on the cane and away from Athena. “I’ve got this.”
“Suit yourself.” Athena shrugged and dropped her hand. Don’t get your feelings hurt. But she did. “I’m headed to the chapel for Mom’s visitation. Did you want to come along?”
Calista nodded, thanked the nurse practitioner again, and hobbled for the door.
Athena’s mind raced, trying to find the right words to bridge the Grand Canyon–size chasm between them, but every time she opened her mouth, the words died on her tongue. Finally, in white-flag surrender, she returned to the topic they’d already exhausted. “So, an ostrich, huh.”
“It is a quirky island.”
“Quirky is one word for it,” Athena said. “I feel like we’ve stepped into a Wes Anderson movie, but nobody gave us the script.”
A genuine laugh from Calista and Athena’s hope surged. “God, yes. I half expect Bill Murray to pop out from behind a tree.”
For a brief, shining moment, it felt like old times. Before golf and fame and their father’s cruel machinations drove a wedge between them.
Across the quad, Eloisa stood at the entrance to the chapel. Her hat, adorned with an entire flower shop, wobbled as she waved them over.
“Welcome, my dears.” Eloisa enveloped them both in a gardenia-scented hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Demetra would be thrilled to see her girls together again.” She stepped back and eyed Calista. “Oh dear, what happened to your ankle?”
Calista relayed the details of her run-in with the ostrich.
“I am so sorry about our mischievous Shushu. I’ll have the ostrich wrangler give her a stern talking to when she comes back to the barn tonight.”
“There’s an ostrich wrangler?” Athena asked.
“Oh, yes.” Eloisa nodded. “He also handles the flamingo flock and the peacock pride, but that’s a story for another time. Come on in and get settled.”
Eloisa ushered them over the threshold, the heavy chapel door closing behind them with a soft thud.
It shut out the direct sunshine and left them in muted shadows filtering through the stained glass windows, casting rainbow patterns across the polished wooden pews.
Wood carvings brought the walls to life—birds flew by the windows, fish swam along the beams, and bits of shell and coral nestled in the corners.
The whole place felt like a slice of the island itself, with sunshine, salty air, and birdsong drifting in from outside.
The air smelled of Stargazer lilies and roses.
Soft music played in the background, a melody Athena recognized as “Supermarket Flowers” by Ed Sheeran, and unwanted tears pressed at her eyes.
At the front of the chapel sat the urn, along with a portrait-size photograph of their mother propped on an easel.
Gutted, Athena put a hand to her mouth and willed herself not to throw up. Her stomach clamped down hard as Ed sang of his angelic mother.
The urn was beautiful, a ceramic piece decorated with intricate floral patterns in shades of red and gold.
It was so perfectly Demetra that for a startling second, Athena felt like she was eight years old again, watching her mother arrange flowers in their kitchen while Benjamin was on tour, and the house was peaceful for once.
Beside her, Calista drew in a sharp breath. “I can’t believe she’s really gone, even though she’s been out of our lives for twenty years. I always hoped that one day . . .”
Athena nodded, not trusting herself to speak without bursting into tears. She wanted to reach out, to take Calista’s hand and offer some kind of comfort, but the gulf between them felt wider than ever, a chasm she didn’t know how to bridge.
“Ladies,” Eloisa said from behind them, gentle but firm. “If you’re ready, we can begin.”
Athena turned to see that the chapel had filled behind them. People sat in the pews, wearing expressions of sympathy and grief. It was surreal, seeing all these strangers mourning a woman Athena hardly remembered.
“Please, be seated.” Eloisa guided them to the front row.
Once they settled in, Eloisa moved to the front of the chapel, her scarlet ensemble a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.
She cleared her throat. “Friends, family, welcome. We’re here to celebrate the life of our dear Demetra.
Now is the time for sharing memories, for laughter through tears, for honoring a woman who touched all our lives in unique ways. ”
Athena glanced around the chapel, taking in the faces of strangers who somehow knew her mother better than she did, and a coppery taste filled her mouth.
“I invite anyone who wishes to share a memory, a poem, a song—anything that reminds you of Demetra—to come forward.”
For a moment, the chapel fell silent, and then a woman with silver hair and a paint-stained smock stood up.
“I remember the first time Demetra joined our art class,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.
“She claimed she couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, but oh, the joy on her face when she finished her first watercolor! ”
A ripple of soft laughter moved through the gathering.
Next, a man in his forties with a guitar slung across his shoulder approached the front.
“Demetra loved this song,” he said. “She said it reminded her of her girls.” As the first chords of “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac filled the chapel, Athena couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
She recalled her mother humming this tune as she braided Athena’s hair for school.
One by one, people stood up to share. A retired teacher spoke of Demetra’s volunteer work.
A young woman, her eyes brimming with tears, recounted how Demetra sat with her through a long night when she thought she might lose her baby.
Each story painted a picture of a woman Athena didn’t recognize—kind, brave, and involved in her community.
The mother she remembered was a faded photograph in comparison, a ghost haunting the edges of her childhood memories, and in her father’s narrative, a villain who’d ruined his life.
“Would either of you like to share something?” Eloisa asked, her gentle eyes meeting Athena’s.
Athena felt panic rise in her throat. What could she say? That her strongest memory of her mother was the sound of her sobs? For years, she blamed Demetra for abandoning them even as she knew her father was the one who took them away from her.
She peeked at Calista, hoping her sister might offer her comfort, but Calista’s face was a mask, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
Athena was the oldest. It was up to her. She got to her feet and turned to the crowd. “I-I . . .” Athena began, her voice faltering. “I wish I had known her the way you all did.”
The words hung in the air, raw and honest. Athena felt exposed and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.
Eloisa’s eyes filled with understanding. “Demetra wished that, too, my dear. She spoke of you both often, always with love and hope.”
Then Eloisa moved on, inviting others to share. Someone got up to read the Mary Oliver poem “When Death Comes.” Athena felt Calista’s hand slip into hers. She looked over at her sister, surprised.
Calista’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, and she whispered, “Life is so unfair.”
At that moment, surrounded by the memories of strangers and the weight of lost time, Athena squeezed her sister’s hand. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start.
Eloisa took over again, painting a picture of a woman who was kind, brave, and loving.
Athena felt a growing sense of loss. Not just for the mother who had died, but for the relationship they’d never had, for all the years wasted in separation caused by their father.
He wouldn’t allow any contact between them and their mother.
The courts had ruled in his favor, declaring Demetra an unfit mother, and that had been that.
But why hadn’t Demetra reached out to them once they were grown and less under Benjamin’s sway?
When the ceremony ended, Eloisa announced a welcome party going on all evening in the quad, and the other attendees began to file out, offering quiet condolences as they passed. Athena touched Calista’s hand. “Lissy, can we hang back and talk for a moment?”
“Okay.” Her expression was guarded but not hostile.
Once the chapel emptied, leaving them alone with their mother’s urn, Athena took a deep breath and turned to her sister.
It was now or never.
“I’m so sorry, Lissy,” she said. “Not just for today, but for everything. For not standing up for you more when we were kids. For letting Dad pit us against each other.” She took a tissue that Luna had given her from her pocket and wiped away her tears.
“I’ve made so many mistakes, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I want you to know that I’m here now, and I want to make things right between us. ”
Calista listened but her face was unreadable. “I appreciate you saying that, Athena. I really do, but it’s not that simple. We can’t just erase years of hurt with one apology.”
“I know it will take time, but I’m willing to put in the work if you are. We’re all we have left now, Lissy. I don’t want to lose you too.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Calista’s face, but it was gone so fast Athena thought she might have imagined it. “We’ll see . . . Attie.”
Attie.
The forbidden nickname passed her sister’s lips for the first time in twenty years. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t even in the same zip code, but it was something. A tiny green shoot in the wasteland of their tattered relationship.