Chapter 7 #2
“Demetra is an inspiration to us all. Despite facing many challenges, all she ever wanted was to help those who were suffering. After her healing journey, she became a registered nurse, driven by a passion to make the world a better place. Her work with the Peace Corps took her to remote villages, where she battled disease and championed education.”
Athena couldn’t catch her breath. She tried to draw in air, but an invisible band squeezed her rib cage like a vise. She had no idea Demetra went to nursing school and joined the Peace Corps.
But why would she know? She’d had zero contact with her mother since she was eleven years old, and her father forbade them from ever bringing up her name.
Once or twice, when she was old enough, she thought about searching for Demetra and reuniting, but Benjamin clarified that if she made such a move, he’d completely cut her off.
“After her stint in the Peace Corps, Demetra joined Doctors Without Borders, risking her safety in war-torn regions to bring medical care to those most in need. Her courage and compassion knew no bounds,” Eloisa said.
A wave of admiration rippled through the audience. Athena felt disconnected, as if watching a movie about a stranger’s life.
“And now,” Eloisa said, turning toward her, “we’re honored to have Demetra’s oldest daughter with us. A few of you will remember Athena from when she visited Hobby Island with her mother and sister, back when the resort was just a gleam in my eye. Athena, would you like to say a few words?”
On leaden legs, Athena approached the microphone. The faces before her blurred into a sea of expectation. She gripped the podium, steadying herself.
“Thank you all for coming here to honor my mother,” she said. “And for remembering her. I’m . . . I’m learning about her, too, it seems.”
A mild murmur spread through the crowd. Everyone peered at Athena with gentle, caring eyes. Overwhelmed, she stepped back and nodded for Eloisa to continue.
Back at the microphone, Eloisa outlined the monthlong celebration of Demetra’s life—a groundbreaking on the projected Demetra Sarris Remembrance Garden, craft-oriented fundraisers for the medical causes Demetra championed, and to cap it all off a charity golf tournament on the Fourth of July weekend.
“Demetra’s ashes currently rest in the island chapel,” Eloisa said.
“We’ve arranged visitation hours for those wishing to pay their respects in quiet contemplation today, and afterward, we’ll have a short tribute.
” She paused, letting everyone absorb the information.
“Now, we’ll proceed with the normal housekeeping announcements and general orientation.
After this, all the craft shops are holding receptions, so please drop by and visit.
Since Demetra was an avid knitter, items she made over the years are for sale in The Yarnery.
One hundred percent of the proceeds go to cancer research. ”
As the crowd dispersed, Athena remained rooted in place. The urge to see her mother’s urn, to connect with the woman who was a mystery to her, warred with a more urgent need to find Calista.
Uneasiness tugged at her. Something wasn’t right.
The quadrangle speakers played Weezer’s “Island in the Sun,” an odd contrast to her tumultuous emotions. She headed toward the golf cart, but an older woman with gray curls piled so high atop her head it rivaled Marge Simpson called out to her. “Athena, wait.”
Stuffing down her impatience, she turned to face the woman. “Hi, hello, how are you?”
Without the hair, the woman stood around five foot four, but with it, she was almost as tall as Athena at five eight.
She wore a navy-and-white-striped scoop neck blouse and beige cargo shorts; the pockets were stretched and stuffed with items—scissor handles protruded from one pocket, a ruler from another, and a seam ripper from a third.
She had a thimble on her right thumb and tortoiseshell glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“I’m Clare.” She extended her hand, and Athena took it. “I run the quilting store, A Stitch in Time.” She pointed in the direction of the quaint shop with an orange tabby sitting in the window, licking its paw. “I loved your mother madly.”
“Thank you for saying that. It’s nice to meet you, Clare. I’m sorry I don’t have long to talk. I need to find my sister.” She let go of Clare’s hand and stepped back.
“So you two have repaired things?” Clare clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful!”
Athena shot Clare a look, an odd feeling winnowing through her. How did the woman know about her rift with her sister?
Seeing Athena’s look, Clare said, “We share everything on Hobby Island—our sorrows, our difficulties, our joys. Your mother spoke of you often.”
Athena’s heart skipped a beat. “What did my mother say about us?”
Clare studied her for a moment too long before responding. “While we share our troubles and our celebrations, we try not to gossip.”
“How is this gossiping? You’d just be telling me what my mother said.”
“Your mother isn’t here to defend herself.”
“So you won’t tell me?” Frustrated, Athena frowned.
“It’s best to let things unfold as Demetra planned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Clare put an index finger to her lips and giggled.
“You’ll see. If you’d like to quilt a little, stop by the shop.
We’re making a memorial quilt for your mom, and we would love to include a square hand-quilted by you and your sister.
But only if that’s something you want to take part in.
Grief is funny and joining us might be too painful.
I understand. Simply come and hang out. We’ve got cookies and fresh-squeezed lemonade, and we’ll tell stories of Demetra and how she enriched all our lives. ”
The Hobby Island community was sewing a quilt for Demetra. They loved her that much.
Right then, Athena identified the disturbing feeling simmering in the back of her mind ever since she arrived.
Jealousy.
She was jealous that these people loved her mother, and apparently, Demetra loved them right back. Yes, yes, Sainted Demetra, the healer of children in faraway places.
Athena’s big question?
If Demetra was so damned incredible, why hadn’t she loved her daughters enough to fight for them? And why, after all these years, was Athena still so desperate to find pieces of a mother who chose to be a stranger?
Of course, Athena could have reached out when she came of age. In fact, she’d tried. Sort of . . .
She remembered sitting in the luxury hotel suite on tour the month she turned pro at eighteen, the smell of leather and Benjamin’s cologne thick in the air. Her laptop sat open on the desk, the search bar blinking at her, daring her.
It would be so easy. To see if her mother’s name brought up anything—a picture, an address, a clue to where she might be now. Slowly, she’d typed each letter: D-E-M-E-T-R-A-S-A-R-R-I-S.
She hovered her index finger over the enter key, heart pounding. Then, with a deep breath, she pressed it.
The page loaded slowly, the sluggish hotel internet spinning its wheel endlessly. She stared at the screen, her nerves jangling with what might appear. Would Demetra look the same? What if there was nothing? What if . . .
The door opened behind her.
She slammed the laptop shut, flew out of her chair, pulse roaring in her ears, and spun around.
Benjamin stepped into the room, his phone in hand, his expression inscrutable.
“Athena.” He leaned against the doorframe, scanning the room before locking his gaze on her. “You should be resting. Big day tomorrow. I’d hate to see you lose focus.”
Her stomach flipped, guilt knotting inside her, terrified he’d known what she was up to. Yet, how could he? He couldn’t see through walls. But her father did possess an uncanny sixth sense when she was doing something he disapproved of.
“I-I was just checking tomorrow’s schedule.” Not a complete lie. She had checked her schedule before the unexpected impulse to search for her mother gripped her. She was old enough now, to find Demetra . . . if she wanted.
“Hmm.” His gaze flicked to the laptop for a brief moment before meeting hers again. “That’s my girl. Always planning ahead.”
The praise sent warmth rushing through her, easing the guilty knot in her chest. He believed in her, always had. He was the one who saw her potential, who worked so hard to make her successful. The thought of disappointing him burned her cheeks.
Benjamin crossed the room. He sat down on the end of her bed and patted the spot beside him. Slowly, she eased down next to her father. He leaned forward, studying her face. “Do you know why I’ve always been so proud of you, Athena?”
Her breath hitched. “Why?”
“Because you’re everything a champion should be. You’re not just talented—you understand the work, the sacrifice. You don’t let emotions or distractions get in the way of what matters. You’re not sentimental. You know how to put the past behind you and move forward.”
She nodded. “I won’t let you down, Dad.”
“I know you won’t.” He lowered his voice. “That’s why I trust you.” He hesitated, his gaze sharpening. “You’re not like Calista.”
Athena frowned. She didn’t like it when he talked bad about her sister. “Calista works hard, too—”
“Calista works when it suits her. She’s too emotional. Impulsive. She doesn’t have your discipline, or your focus. That’s why she’ll never go as far as you will.” He smiled, patting her hand. “You’ve always been the one who understands what it takes to win.”
The words filled her with a quiet pride, then she thought of the search engine and how she’d been on the verge of betraying his trust by looking up her mother. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Dinner’s in an hour.” He stood and adjusted his cuff links. “Wear the blue dress. The sponsors will love you in it.”
After the door clicked shut behind him, she opened the laptop again but couldn’t bring herself to look at the results. Instead, she shut down her computer and shoved it into her bag.
Later, when she was older, Athena thought again about searching for Demetra, but she didn’t.
Her mother had never sent a card, never called, never even tried to keep in contact.
And hadn’t Benjamin always said their mother was unstable, dangerous?
Back then, she’d believed him without question, clinging to his every word.
But now, standing here in the shadow of her past, Athena could see how he’d twisted everything. It was so much easier to believe him than to face the painful truth. Her father’s love had always been a cage that kept her in and her mother out.