Chapter 13
Athena
“Forgiveness is a journey, not a destination.”
—Eloisa Hobby
After what seemed like the longest day in the history of days, Athena fell asleep in a bed so comfy she didn’t stir once during the night and dreamed happy dreams of sandcastles and baby turtles and long walks on the beach.
But the second she awoke that Saturday morning, her agitated mind was back at it, fretting and restless.
The vow Athena made to her sister the previous evening prowled like a caged cougar. Before the mirror in the seahorse-palooza bathroom, Athena stared at her reflection as she ironed her hair flat and considered her options.
Yes, she wanted to spend the summer on Hobby Island, reconnecting with Calista and memorializing their mother.
Yes, she desired a much-needed break from the LPGA.
She hadn’t had a proper vacation since .
. . well, she never had a vacation once she became a professional golfer.
Not once did she miss a scheduled tournament, not even when sick. She powered through.
Always.
But now, two daunting tasks stretched before her like a long par five—canceling her appearances and breaking the news to her father that she was leaving the tour.
Her hand trembled and not from the weight of her iron as she pulled a strand of hair through the heated ceramic plate. How would Daddy react? Her stomach roiling, hot bile rose in her throat as she imagined his fury.
She spent her life catering to his wishes and polishing her golden child image. What would happen when she defied him? Would he berate and shame her the way he did with Calista?
A cold shaft of fear shot through her body.
Calista put up with Benjamin’s anger and ridicule for twenty-four years. Okay, Athena could take his inevitable harangue if it meant having one extraordinary summer with her sister.
Also, what would this time off do to her career?
Athena stared at herself in the mirror. Tendrils of steam drifted up from her damp hair. “You can do it.”
Yes, and she would call her father . . . Athena glanced at her smartwatch that tracked her life down to the last detail . . . well, he was on the golf course right now. She couldn’t interrupt his game. Later. In the evening after he’d had dinner and a few mood-mellowing nightcaps.
Don’t put it off. Do it now.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him on the green, pulling the phone from his pocket, glowering at the inconvenience.
No, no, tonight was better.
Coward.
Okay, she’d do it now, Daddy’s temper be damned. She was Athena Dempsey. She faced down the world’s best golfers on the most challenging courses. She could handle one phone call to her father without shanking it into the metaphorical rough, right?
Then she remembered the fit he’d thrown when Calista left.
He’d been apoplectic. At the time, it hurt that he hadn’t acknowledged Athena’s winning Chevron, the pinnacle of her career.
Now she understood his rage stemmed from a million-dollar gambling loss and not from losing Calista as she believed.
Put down the flat iron and call him right this minute.
Yes. Before Athena’s nerve faltered, she switched off her flat iron, perched it on the edge of the bathroom sink to cool, and picked up her cell phone.
No bars. No service. Right. Landline.
She padded into the bedroom, picked up the whimsical conch shell phone cordless receiver, and dialed her father’s number. As it rang, Athena cringed, then braced herself and rehearsed what she would say. Hi, Daddy, I’m taking a break.
No, no, she needed to ease into the bad news. Ask her father how he was. If his back was acting up again. Praise him for his patience—
Click.
“You have reached the mailbox of Benjamin Dempsey . . .”
Oh, thank God. Athena slumped against the wall, relief washing over her like a cool breeze on a sweltering day. Relief sweat pearled on her upper lip.
The voicemail beeped. Leave a message. She primed her tongue to drop the bomb on her father, but a sudden knock at the door startled her, and she hung up the phone without saying a word.
“Coming!” she called out, sounding far cheerier than she felt.
Luna stood in the hallway, her smile as bright as a polished trophy. “Good morning! I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, no. I get up before dawn every morning to work out.” Her ingrained athlete’s discipline.
“Eloisa asked me to give you today’s itinerary.” Luna handed her a printout.
Athena frowned down at the paper. “I have an itinerary?” The concept of a schedule she hadn’t crafted herself was as foreign as using a pool noodle to putt.
“No, no. You’re free to spend your day however you see fit.” Luna’s smile offered high-beam sunshine. “Eloisa thought you might like to be aware of the day’s activities.”
“Um, thanks . . .” Athena scanned the offerings.
First on the list, after breakfast, a ceremony near the Prism Pavilion—whatever that was—for the groundbreaking on the remembrance garden honoring Demetra. Someone had hand drawn a star next to the entry in red Sharpie.
Was she expected to go?
Luna reached out and touched Athena’s wrist with featherlight fingertips. “Just remember, no matter how tough things feel right now, they won’t stay that way forever. Be in the moment. That’s the solution.”
Huh? Athena frowned.
But then the innkeeper was gone, leaving behind her cinnamon-scented fragrance and a deepening air of mystery.
Five minutes later, Athena entered the Lavender Lark’s dining room and spotted her sister sitting by the window, but Calista wasn’t alone.
A man in his early forties sat across from her, his tanned forearms resting on the table as he leaned in, smiling. Did everyone on this island smile like they drank from the Elixir of Immortality? Honestly, kind of creepy.
Calista glanced up and caught Athena’s eye. Grinning, she waved her over, looking a little too smiley herself. Was there something in the water? Naturally occurring lithium, perhaps?
“Athena! Come meet Paul.”
Paul stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Luna’s husband and Eloisa’s nephew by marriage.”
“Nice to meet you.” Athena shook his calloused hand.
His eyes flicked to Athena’s hair, a hint of amusement crossing his face.
Feeling self-conscious, she patted her head and realized one side of her hair lay ironed straight, the other side was still wavy.
Oh, good grief. What was wrong with her?
In her anxiety over her father, she neglected to finish her hairstyle.
Calista pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. Paul designed a blueprint for the remembrance garden based on a quilt Mamá made called the Labyrinth. It’s gorgeous. Take a look.”
Athena sat next to her sister.
Paul pulled a rolled blueprint from his back pocket and passed it to Athena. “Demetra won a quilting competition with the Labyrinth.”
Calista gave a soft, melancholy sigh and propped her chin in her upturned palm.
Athena studied the design, her throat constricting like she swallowed a golf ball.
The central motif presented a complex labyrinth, its paths winding and intersecting in a mesmerizing pattern that dizzied her head.
Around the edges, stylized waves crashed against rocky shores, their foamy crests rendered in such delicate detail.
In each corner, a different season unfurled like a time-lapse nature documentary.
Spring flowers bloomed in one quarter, summer sun blazed in another, autumn leaves drifted in the third, and winter snow blanketed the fourth.
These seasonal vignettes flowed into the labyrinth, as if time itself lived in the maze, trapped in an endless loop of renewal and decay.
The overall effect was both beautiful and unsettling, like stumbling upon perfectly preserved ruins in the middle of a desert.
It was an invitation to lose oneself in contemplation, and the longer Athena looked at it, the more details emerged.
She could almost feel her mother’s sorrow rising from the fabric, wrapping around her own heart like a cold, damp fog. The sense of loss, the struggle to find a path forward, and perhaps hope in the beauty of the surrounding island. It was all there, stitched into every seam.
“It’s . . . intricate.” She handed the blueprint back to Paul, fighting off sorrow. “Translating this into a garden will be challenging.”
“We might have to deconstruct a bit, yes, but we’re shooting to catch the spirit of the quilt more than a replica. You’re coming to the groundbreaking with Calista?” There was no expectation in his voice or his eyes, so why did she feel she would disappoint him if she said no?
“Eloisa said we’re the guests of honor,” Calista added.
“Indeed you are,” Paul said. “We’ve got a little groundbreaking ceremony planned and were hoping you could dig a shovelful of dirt to get us started, but no pressure. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
Athena gulped. The idea of participating in a ceremony, digging into soil that represented her mother’s pain and absence, made her want to bolt, but Calista looked at her with such hope, and Paul’s kind eyes held no judgment.
“I . . .” She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
Calista’s face fell, but she hid it with a fast smile. “That’s okay, Athena. I can represent us both.”
She thought of the intricate paths of the labyrinth.
Wasn’t that exactly how she felt right now?
Lost in a maze of emotions, trying to find her way out?
Athena’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table.
She wanted to say no, to retreat to her room and hide from the memories and the guilt.
Trapped between her desire to mend things with her sister and her need to avoid pain, Athena nodded, never mind the mental quicksand sucking her down.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the site of the planned remembrance garden in a golf cart with Athena behind the wheel.