Chapter 19 #2
Eloisa entered to find Athena standing over an open suitcase, folding a golf shirt with military precision that would have made Marie Kondo weep with joy.
“I suppose you’re here to convince me to stay,” Athena said without looking up, her voice as crisp as her starched collar.
Eloisa moved farther into the room. “I’m here to give you something.”
Athena narrowed her eyes in a look that said she suspected a trap. “What do you mean?”
Eloisa held out the scrapbook. “This was your mother’s. I thought you might want to take it with you.”
Athena’s hands stilled over her suitcase, hovering like hummingbirds unsure where to land.
For a moment, she looked younger, more vulnerable.
Like the little girl who once chased after baby sea turtles heading for the sea.
Then the mask of cool detachment slipped back into place, fitting as snugly as a new golf glove.
“Why now? Why didn’t you give it to me when I first arrived? Was there a minimum stay requirement I had to meet first?”
Eloisa let out a soft sigh and sank onto the love seat by the window, feeling every one of her years and possibly a few she hadn’t lived yet. “Your mother had a plan, Athena. She wanted you and Calista to have time to reconnect, to heal, before you learned the whole truth.”
“The truth?” Athena’s voice cracked slightly like fine china developing a hairline fracture. “What truth is that?”
“About what really happened all those years ago. About why she lost custody of you. About why she didn’t try to contact you once you were grown.” Eloisa patted the seat beside her. “Sit with me, please? I promise the seat isn’t booby-trapped.”
Athena hesitated, her body half turned toward her suitcase as if it might sprout wings and fly her to safety at any moment. However, curiosity, that eternal cat killer, won out. She perched next to Eloisa, her posture so rigid it made Eloisa’s back ache.
She passed the scrapbook to Athena.
Athena hesitated, her hand hovering over the cover. Her fingers curled inward, then stretched out again, like she couldn’t quite decide whether to touch it.
Eloisa watched her carefully, sensing the hesitation but not pushing. “Your mother wanted you to have this. There’s a lot in here. Photos, mementos, legal documents . . . and a letter.”
Athena’s eyes widened. “A letter?”
“Yes. For you,” Eloisa said. “She poured her heart into it, Athena. She wanted you to know everything.”
Athena dropped her hand to her side. “Why now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t she try harder when we were kids? Or later, when we were grown?”
“Because your father made sure she couldn’t.”
Athena’s head snapped up, her face a mask of disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“Benjamin threatened her,” Eloisa said. “He said if she ever tried to contact you after you turned eighteen, he’d cut you off. No money, no connections. He used your financial security as leverage. She was terrified of what he might do to you.”
Athena blinked against the tears misting her eyes. “No. He wouldn’t . . . he couldn’t . . .” Her voice faltered, as if saying the words aloud might make them true.
“He would and he did. He filed restraining orders to keep her away. He had a company scrub her name from the internet so you couldn’t find her if you searched.
He hired private investigators to monitor her.
He even returned the cards, letters, and gifts she sent to you, every single one.
” Eloisa tapped the scrapbook. “The evidence is all in here. This is what she kept, hoping that one day you’d see the truth. ”
Athena pored over the scrapbook, turning pages quickly, her breathing ragged, like she’d just run a marathon in stilettos. “No, no, this can’t be true.”
“I’m so sorry, Athena,” Eloisa said. “But your mother wanted you to understand why she couldn’t be there, even though she desperately wanted to be.
She was trapped. It’s a lot to process, but know your mother never stopped loving you.
She wanted you to have the truth so you could free yourself of his control. ”
Athena set aside the scrapbook and stood. “Why should I believe any of this? For all I know, you and my mother cooked this up together. A convenient story to absolve her of guilt.”
Eloisa remained calm and kept her voice steady. “You’re right to be skeptical. You don’t know me, and you barely knew your mother, but ask yourself this. What do I have to gain by lying to you? Why would your mother go to such lengths if it wasn’t true?”
Athena turned away from Eloisa. For a long moment, she was silent, her shoulders shaking. “If this is true . . . if Daddy really did all this, then everything I’ve believed, everything I’ve worked for, it’s all been a lie.”
“Not everything,” Eloisa said. “Your talent, your dedication, your achievements. Those are real. Now you can reshape your story, to decide for yourself who you want to be. Think of it as a midlife crisis, but instead of buying a sports car, you redefine your sense of self. Much more cost-effective, really.”
Athena turned back to Eloisa. Her eyes were red-rimmed but clear. “I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know who I am without golf, without Daddy’s approval. It’s like trying to imagine a fish without water.”
Hope bloomed in Eloisa like a stubborn dandelion through concrete. “That’s why you’re here, Athena. That’s why your mother wanted you and Calista to come to Hobby Island. To figure that out together.”
Outside, a commotion erupted.
Whew! Right on time.
Eloisa parted the curtains, and together, they peered out to see a crowd gathering in the backyard below, led by Luna and Paul and the sweet strains of a ukulele, accompanied by a kazoo orchestra. People carried balloons and banners, wore funny hats and flower leis.
“What in the world?” Athena leaned out the window.
“That, my dear, is Hobby Island magic in action. Looks like the cavalry has arrived. And by cavalry, I mean a bunch of loving folks who believe that there’s no problem so big a luau and some positivity can’t cure it.”
Athena turned to her, a mix of emotions playing across her face—confusion, anger, hope, and something that looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smile.
“So,” Eloisa said, holding out her hand. “What do you say? Are you ready to give Hobby Island—and yourself—a chance?”
“It’s not that simple. My father—”
“Forget him. Do you want to stay?”
Athena looked at Eloisa’s outstretched hand, and then back at the suitcase on her bed. “I—”
“Or you could just go back and live the life you’ve been living. It’s not an awful life. Top of the LPGA, living in a mansion with your father . . .”
Outside, Paul’s voice rose above the gentle strum of his ukulele, singing about second chances and island dreams. It was melancholy and fantastic all at once, a perfect encapsulation of Hobby Island itself.
Athena shook her head. “He’ll take it out on Cantu. He’s already threatened me with firing him. I’ve got to go.”
“Why don’t you let Cantu take care of himself? You’re not responsible for your father’s actions.”
Athena took a deep breath. “This won’t turn out well.”
“Or it could be the best thing that ever happened, although granted, not without some potholes. There’s a party raging in the backyard just waiting for you to attend. Or you can walk out the door and go back to the way things were. It’s all up to you.”