Chapter 33
Calista
“The heart’s greatest strength lies in its capacity for understanding and forgiveness.”
—Eloisa Hobby
The funny thing about coming in third place (Benjamin got disqualified for poor sportsmanlike conduct, so his score didn’t count) at her dead mother’s charity golf tournament was that Calista couldn’t have cared less where she ranked on the leaderboard.
Last place would have been just fine with her.
After Benjamin was escorted off the island and they finished the tournament, Gavin took first place with Athena coming in second.
Eloisa presented the trophies and announced they’d raised twenty-two thousand dollars for cancer research in Demetra’s name.
Then everyone else left for Crafters’ Corner to take part in the Fourth of July celebration.
All, that is, except Calista and Athena.
Eloisa had requested they drop by her house to discuss the dedication of Demetra’s remembrance garden, set for the following day.
Reid kissed Calista goodbye at the final green. It was a long, sweet kiss filled with promises of many more kisses to come. “I’m off to edit the footage. You were incredible out there.”
Calista gave him a weak smile. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. You weren’t just playing. You fought for something bigger than a game, and you didn’t let him win.” He reached out to tuck an escaping tendril of hair behind her ear and kiss her again. “Maybe we meet up at the barbecue later?”
“Plan on it.”
“Perfect.” He kissed her one last time and turned her over to Athena, who was waiting in a golf cart. By the time the sisters reached Eloisa’s front porch, the setting sun’s rays stroked the horizon an orangey purple and the scent of honeysuckle wafted on the soft ocean breeze.
Calista stared at Eloisa’s front door, her fingertips hovering millimeters from the sun-bleached wood.
“You know,” Athena said, “I’m fairly sure the door won’t open itself. Unless Eloisa installed some kind of fancy entry system we know nothing about.”
Calista shot her an amused look. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious.”
“I try.” Athena gave a mock bow.
“Here goes nothing.” Calista bounced the knocker against the door and the hard rap rap echoed across the island, like a starting gun for . . . what, exactly?
The door swung open, and Eloisa poked her head out, her silver hair escaping a loose bun in wisps. For once she wasn’t wearing a hat and she had on an understated shift dress in a black-and-white floral design and a pair of black ballet flats.
Where was her usual color and flair?
“Is this a bad time?” Athena asked, eyeing the older woman up and down.
“No, no, of course not. I’ve been expecting you. Please, come inside.” She motioned them over the threshold.
Eloisa led them through the cozy living area—the patchwork quilt draped over the overstuffed armchair, shelves crammed with dog-eared books, lace curtains fluttering in the open windows—to the kitchen where the scent of cinnamon and yeast bread enveloped them.
“Have a seat.” Eloisa waved at the small table in the breakfast nook overlooking the ocean. “I’ll put on the teakettle.”
They settled in their chairs and exchanged glances. Athena raised her eyebrows and her shoulders, indicating she, too, thought something was a bit off about their normally exuberant host.
“This morning was certainly an experience, wasn’t it?” Eloisa turned on the gas burner beneath the copper teakettle and took teacups from the cupboard.
“That’s a word for it,” Athena said.
“How are you two doing?” Eloisa arranged the cups on a tray and peered over at them.
“We’re okay.” Athena shifted in her seat. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine.” Eloisa waved a hand, but she didn’t seem fine; her brow was furrowed, and she kept battling back wisps of loose hair.
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of Benjamins in my seven decades.
It’s distasteful and unsettling, but we can’t allow dark forces to mess with our equilibrium and steal our joy, now can we? ”
It seemed she was speaking to herself as much as to them.
The teakettle sang and Eloisa’s hands shook a little as she poured the hot water into the delicate porcelain cups.
Calista stood up. “Do you need any help?”
“No, no.” Eloisa forced a smile, added honey, cream, and a small wicker basket filled with various flavors of teabags, along with a plate of shortbread cookies, to a tray and carried it to the table.
They gathered around the table and made idle chitchat while they sipped tea and ate shortbread cookies. Calista and Athena shared meaningful looks. What was this visit all about?
“Well,” Eloisa said at last, “I suppose you’re curious about why I invited you here.”
“It’s not about tomorrow’s dedication for Mamá’s remembrance garden?” Calista asked, stirring a bit of honey into the tea she topped up with fresh hot water.
“Not exactly.” Eloisa rested her hands in her lap, took a deep breath, and fixed her gaze on some point beyond them. “There’s something I need to tell you. About your mother. About . . . me.”
“We’re listening.” Calista nodded, encouraging her to continue.
Eloisa cleared her throat, looked first at Athena and then at Calista. “It’s not an easy story, but it’s time you knew. About how I came to be part of your mother’s life. About everything.”
The older woman paused, and in that moment, Calista saw someone burdened by a long-held close secret. “This is something you haven’t told many people, is it?”
Eloisa shook her head. “I’ve never told the whole story to anyone except your mother.”
“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing,” Athena said.
“It’s not about my comfort.” Eloisa offered her a tender smile. “It’s about helping you put the pieces of the past together so you can move forward into a guilt-free and loving future with each other.
“I grew up in a world of absolutes.” Eloisa’s voice took on a faraway quality. “Black and white. Right and wrong. My father was a fundamentalist evangelical megachurch pastor, and his word was law. Not just in the church, but in our home.”
Calista leaned forward, drawn in.
“Love, in our house, was conditional on toeing the line and living his version of God’s will. And harsh punishments for stepping out of line.” Her voice wobbled as her eyes took on the overlay of past pain.
“That sounds rough.” Athena bit her bottom lip and she, too, appeared lost in thought.
Jettisoned back to their childhood and Benjamin’s brand of punishment? Calista wondered.
Eloisa’s lips quirked in a sad smile. “It was all I knew. I never experienced real love until I was sixteen, and I met Jamie.”
“Jamie?” Calista canted her head, studying her mother’s oldest friend.
“Our new gardener’s son,” Eloisa said. “Jamie was kind. Gentle. Everything my world wasn’t. And we fell deeply in love.”
There was a wistfulness in her voice that made Calista’s heart ache. She could picture a young Eloisa, sheltered and starved for affection, finding a connection with someone who showed her a different way of being.
“What happened?” Athena asked.
Eloisa picked up her teacup and cradled it between her palms as if doing so stabilized her. “I-I got pregnant and my parents’ solution was to send me away to a home for unwed mothers and force me to give the baby up for adoption.”
“They didn’t!” Calista breathed, horror washing over her.
“They did. To protect the family’s reputation, they said. To save my soul.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Instead, it became the loneliest time of my life.”
Calista reached out, covering Eloisa’s hand with her own. She felt the slight tremor running through the older woman’s fingers, saw the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.
Eloisa squeezed her hand in return. “Things were different in those days. Good girls did not have babies out of wedlock, especially not when your father was a powerful preacher.”
“I’m so sorry,” Calista whispered.
“It gets worse before it gets better.” Her mouth formed a grim line.
“We’re here.” Athena got up and moved to the chair on Eloisa’s other side. “Whatever it is, we’re here to listen, to hear you.”
“The baby’s birth . . . there were complications. I got septic and fell into a coma. And when I woke up . . .” Eloisa’s voice broke and she had to take a few deep breaths before she could continue. “They told me my baby died and that they’d already buried her. I never even got to see my baby.”
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with grief that felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, not decades ago.
Tears pricked at Calista’s eyes, and her heart broke for the girl Eloisa had been, for all she’d endured alone.
“And then they told me, because of the illness, I would never be able to have children. I wanted to die,” Eloisa whispered. “I prayed to die. I couldn’t see any reason to go on. And then . . . then there was Demetra.”
“Mamá?” Athena’s voice went up in disbelief.
“Yes, your mother. You see, another girl at the home had died in childbirth, leaving behind a baby girl—Demetra—and I became her wet nurse. In caring for her even in that short time, I found . . . not healing, exactly, but a reason to keep going.”
Calista saw the whole thing. Eloisa, lost and heartbroken, finding a lifeline in a tiny, helpless newborn. A bond forged in the darkest of times, but no less powerful for it. “What happened then?”
“Life went on,” Eloisa said. “My parents arranged a marriage for me—a wealthy older pious man who didn’t ask too many questions about my ‘time away.’ But I never forgot Demetra. I stayed in touch with her foster parents, watched her grow from afar.”
“And our mother never knew?” Athena asked.
Eloisa shook her head. “Not until much later. After my parents died and I inherited this island. It was my chance to start over, to build a life on my own terms. And when I heard from Cantu that Demetra was struggling—with depression, with everything that happened with your father taking you away from her—I reached out. Invited her here.”
“To heal,” Calista murmured.