Chapter 12
Calista
“Secrets shared is a burden halved.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Calista perched on the chapel steps, her butt numb from the cool stone beneath her, foot propped on a planter, an ice pack Artie brought her resting on her sore ankle.
Boisterous partygoer laughter mingled with chirping crickets and singing frogs, creating a sweet island melody that should have soothed. Instead, the sound grated like the world’s most annoying white noise machine, unable to mask her mental chatter.
She’d planned to head for the Lavender Lark instead of hanging around this shindig, but the thought of scaling Mount B&B with her bum ankle made her whimper. She did the next best thing, plopped down and tried to summon the willpower to move.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and did deep breathing exercises. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don’t think about the fact your long-lost sister is here. Or that your dead mom had a secret island life, or that—
“Hello, Daddy.” Athena’s voice cut through the temperate night like a hot knife through Calista’s feeble Zen. Her eyes snapped open as goose bumps carpeted her entire body.
Daddy.
Weird how that word still got to her, the way Athena used the term of endearment like it wasn’t spring-loaded with years of manipulation and deceit.
Calista stopped calling Benjamin “Dad” ages ago, and as for “Daddy”? Please. She’d sooner call a cactus cuddly. She peered into the darkness, spotting Athena pacing beside an azalea bush a few feet away, clutching the phone to her ear like a lifeline.
Great. Now Calista was stuck in an accidental game of “Spy on Your Sister.” Should she announce her presence? Crawl away on her hands and knees? Freeze like a statue and hope Attie didn’t spot her?
Athena’s voice drifted over again. “I’m sorry. I told you the island was remote. . . .”
There was a pause, and Calista could practically hear Benjamin’s voice, sharp enough to draw blood. Her body tensed, muscle memory from years of bracing for impact.
Nope. Not doing this. Calista was a grown-ass woman, safe from Daddy Dearest’s reach. Time for a strategic retreat.
She stood, and oops, yes, her ankle was garbage. She stumbled against the chapel wall, unwieldy as a newborn foal. Fantastic.
Using the Germaine the Giraffe cane, Calista shuffled down the steps and cursed whoever made ankles so flimsy, catching snippets of Athena’s conversation. Benjamin must have a new manipulative scheme cooking with Athena, his unwilling sous chef.
“Goodbye, Daddy. Luna needs her phone back.”
Wait, what?
Calista froze, peering through the shrubbery separating her from this alternate universe where Athena had grown a spine. She watched, slack-jawed. Her sister ended the call, her face set in stone, and she handed the phone back to an awaiting woman who Calista presumed was this Luna person.
Seriously? Had Athena just hung up on Benjamin Dempsey, manipulator extraordinaire and professional dream crusher? A tiny spark of something dangerously close to hope flickered in Calista’s chest.
Maybe this island was magic, after all.
A distant pop drew her attention skyward. The first fireworks of the night exploded in a shower of gold, illuminating the world in white, fiery light.
For a moment, Calista could see everything—the weathered wood of the chapel door, the delicate flowers lining the path, the partygoers moving toward the beach en masse.
Athena turned, her gaze sweeping the area, and their eyes met. A brief hesitation. A flicker of something . . . surprise? guilt? . . . crossed Athena’s face.
They stared at each other.
Calista’s pulse pounded. Part of her wanted to flee, to avoid this confrontation, but she was tired of running, tired of hiding, and besides, the ankle wasn’t up for a footrace. Time to face this head-on and let the chips fall.
“Mind if I join you?” Athena asked, tone neutral.
Calista shrugged. “Free country. Or free island, I guess.”
“Golf cart ride?” Athena pointed to the golf carts parked in a row.
“Can we just take one?”
“I brought one from the Lavender Lark earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Did you ever get checked in?”
“No. I came straight from my bout with Big Bird to the clinic.”
“You don’t want to watch the fireworks?” Athena inclined her head toward the beach.
“I’ve seen fireworks for a lifetime,” Calista said, and they both knew she wasn’t talking about the rockets lighting up the sky above the ocean.
“Hang there. I’ll get the cart and pick you up.” Athena dashed across the quad, procured a cart, and zoomed up beside Calista. “Do you need help to get in?”
“I can manage.” Taking care of where she placed her foot, she climbed aboard. Calista sneaked glances at her sister’s profile as they headed toward the B&B, trying to read her expression in the intermittent flashes of light.
Athena looked . . . different.
Older, yes, but there was something else. A weariness Calista had never noticed before. Had it always been there, hidden behind the perfect facade their father demanded from her, or was this new?
Another firework exploded, bathing them in red light. Athena turned to Calista, her face cast in shadows again.
“Why did you walk away on the eighteenth green five years ago?”
Wow, okay. No more pussyfooting around. The question hung in the air like a solid thing.
Memories of that day flooded back—the suffocating pressure, the weight of expectations, the moment it became too much to bear.
Calista smelled again the freshly cut grass, felt the sun beating down on her neck, and heard the murmur of the crowd. The sensations were so vivid she half expected to look down and see grass stains on her knees, remnants of her old life spent chasing perfection.
The past had a way of sneaking up on her, wrapping around her legs like clinging vines, threatening to pull her under. She exhaled, willing the stiffness from her lungs. “I . . .”
“Yes?”
She couldn’t force out more words, old instincts kicking in. How many times had Athena turned tattletale, running to their father with Calista’s secrets and her vulnerabilities? And yet, Athena had been a kid too.
In fresh light from another round of rockets, she saw something in Athena’s eyes that gave her pause. Was that honest concern? Or just another trap?
Did she dare risk it?
Athena guided the golf cart up the long driveway to the Lavender Lark. The grounds lay quiet and empty, but the welcoming porch light was on. Calista assumed most of the guests were at the fireworks show.
Her sister parked, shutting off the cart, and turned to look at her. “You don’t have to tell me why you walked away, but you were winning. I’ve wondered for five years why you pulled the plug and handed me the glory. It made no sense.”
“Not glory to me. Poison.”
Athena blinked. “What do you mean?”
Calista cleared her throat, trying to locate the words locked away. “There’s . . .” She paused and moistened her lips. “Something you don’t know.”
“I figured.”
The cool breeze against her skin raised goose bumps, and Calista hugged herself for warmth and comfort the way she had as a kid hiding in the laundry hamper from their father’s tirades. The half-moon hung high in the sky above the lavender Victorian.
“Never mind. I can see this is hard for you. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. You left, and now I’m the Queen of the LPGA.” Her sister’s laugh was rough, humorless.
“You got what you wanted, and I’m happy for you,” Calista said and meant it.
“It’s what he wanted.” Bitterness crept into Athena’s voice.
“Oh no, it isn’t.” She shook her head.
Athena’s mouth dropped open. “W-what?”
Calista fisted her hands against her knees, really too weary for this conversation this late at night after a long day of trouble, but she was leaving on Monday, and they wouldn’t have much time together. Might as well dive into the deep end.
“All right. Here goes. I’m placing my trust in you, Attie. Please don’t betray me.”
Hurt flashed across her sister’s face. “I know I haven’t been a safe person in the past, but I want to change that if you’ll allow it.”
The admission hung between them. Calista nodded, acknowledging the olive branch. “I don’t blame you. We both did what we had to do to survive him.”
Silence.
Had she overstepped already?
Athena met Calista’s gaze, and a world of understanding passed between them. Both shaped by Benjamin’s expectations, molded and bent until they hardly recognized themselves.
Another firework streaked across the stars, this one a vibrant blue that lingered in the air.
Calista steeled herself. This was it. The moment she’d both dreaded and longed for, the secret she’d carried for five long years pressing against her like a physical weight.
How nice to set her burden down, but how weird it would feel to no longer carry it.
“Before gameplay started on Sunday, the last day of the tournament, Reid came to see me in the clubhouse.”
“Thornton?”
“Uh-huh. Reid found out something about our father, and he wanted to let me know.”
“What was that something?” Athena asked, dread in her eyes.
“Benjamin had placed a wager with a bookie. A huge bet.”
“How huge?” Athena’s voice lowered.
“One million dollars.”
“Wh-what . . . kind of wager?”
“He bet against you, Athena. A million bucks that his golden girl would fail.”
All the color drained from Athena’s face. “Da-Da-Daddy bet on you to win the tournament?”
“Yeppers.”
“Why?” The word came out plaintive, keening.
Empathy for her sister pushed through Calista.
“No,” Athena said. “Reid was wrong. Daddy would never bet against me.”
“That’s what I told myself. Benjamin never sided with me. Why would he wager so much money on me beating you?”
Athena slumped forward, bonking her forehead against the steering wheel. “Because you’re the better golfer. Because he knew you would win.”
“But he was wrong. I didn’t have the killer instinct. I couldn’t beat you. Not when I knew he’d make a mint off me if I did.”