Chapter 22 #2
The backyard space of the Lavender Lark lay transformed.
A long table stretched before them, draped in white linen that gently stirred in the morning breeze.
Matching straight-backed chairs issued an invitation—come sit.
Wildflowers spilled from mason jars, with lavender sprigs peeking between the blooms. The air smelled of freshly mown grass and ripe peaches from the nearby fruit trees.
The scents wafting from the laden table hit Athena next—rich coffee, yeasty bread, peppered bacon.
For a moment, Athena was eight years old again, padding into the kitchen on tiptoe, drawn by the promise of her mother’s special French toast.
She blinked hard, forcing the memory away. No time for ghosts.
“Eloisa,” Calista asked. “What is all this?”
“A welcome for Cantu, Julia, and Mateo.” Eloisa’s eyes held sage wisdom. “And a time to reveal an old secret.”
Secret? Athena frowned and bit her bottom lip. “What secret?”
“First, let’s gather and share this lovely meal and the story will unfurl at its own pace.”
“This is stunning,” Calista said. “Absolutely beautiful, but I feel underdressed in shorts and a tee. Should I run upstairs and change?”
“Absolutely not. You look lovely just as you are.” Eloisa waved them all to sit down.
It felt odd to be sitting down to a meal with Cantu and his wife and son, but good in the best possible way.
Eloisa settled at the head of the table.
Paul near the foot, manning the French press and passing cups of hot coffee down the line.
Luna sat to her husband’s right, with Artie and Orion to his left.
Calista took the spot next to Eloisa, and Reid filled in the remaining chair between Calista and Artie, leaving Athena to ease down next to Cantu, Julia, and Mateo.
Pleasant small talk, light and frothy as seafoam, went around the table, but Athena couldn’t concentrate. What secret was Eloisa about to reveal, and why were Cantu and his family moving to the island? Were the two things connected? They seemed to be.
She tried to wait an acceptable amount of time to let everyone get comfortable and enjoy their meal, but after fifteen minutes of idle chitchat and noshing, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She turned to Cantu beside her.
“What happened with Daddy? Why are you moving to Hobby Island? What is going on?”
From across the table, Calista shot her a pointed look that said, Chill, Attie, but Athena simply could not.
Cantu glanced down the table at Eloisa, who nodded. Giving him permission? How was the island owner involved in all this?
Then Cantu turned toward Athena, readjusting the linen napkin in his lap and clearing his throat.
“When you didn’t come back with me, I realized I had completed my obligation to your mother.
I handed in my resignation and called Eloisa to tell her we were ready for the last phase of Demetra’s plan. ”
“Phase? Plan? What are you talking about?” Athena heard her voice rise high, losing control of her anxiety.
Cantu spared a look for Calista, who smiled at him kindly. He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “I should start from the beginning.”
“Yes,” Athena said. “Please do.”
“Your mother and I grew up in foster care together. We were as close as siblings.”
Athena stared at him, her brain struggling to keep up with the words. They hit her ears like foreign syllables she couldn’t decipher. Demetra’s childhood had always been a blank space in the family story that one no one bothered to fill in.
“Wh-what?” Athena stammered.
Cantu repeated himself.
Athena blinked, her mind skimming over the words. She shot a look at Calista, who shook her head, eyes wide. “We knew she grew up in foster care, but she never talked about it. We didn’t know you were part of that.”
Calista shook her head, her brow furrowed. “She always kept it vague. She mentioned once she was in the system but didn’t go into details. She said it wasn’t important.”
“It was important,” Cantu murmured and dropped his gaze to the table. “Her past shaped everything about her—who she was, the choices she made. She didn’t want you girls to carry that burden.”
Calista pressed her lips together, looking stricken. “That sounds like her.”
Athena’s stomach twisted, guilt mingling with insatiable curiosity. “So you were in foster care together? What else didn’t we know?”
He paused to take a sip of water. “Demetra’s mother died in childbirth, and no one knew who her father was. She went into foster care as an infant. I arrived later when I was five after a carjacker killed my parents in a police chase.”
“God, how awful for you both.” Calista put a palm to her mouth.
Reid slid his arm around Calista’s waist.
The air seemed to thicken around the table. Athena felt a dull ache in her chest as Cantu’s words settled over her. She clenched her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t feel sad. It was a good home, a safe home,” Cantu said. “The couple who took us in loved us like their own. Demetra and I stayed there together until we graduated from high school. We were the best of friends, Demi and I.” His voice took on a dreamy quality.
Julia reached for her husband’s hand, running her thumb along his knuckles to comfort him.
Athena startled, realizing Cantu was grieving Demetra as surely as everyone else on Hobby Island. Cantu wasn’t just a messenger. He had loved her mother too. She pleated her linen napkin, unsure what to say or do.
No one spoke. Only the trill of a mockingbird from the peach trees rippled the silence. Athena’s heart felt too heavy for her chest. Oh, Mom! What she must have gone through.
Calista broke the silence. “And after high school? Did you stay in touch?”
He nodded. “Demi got a scholarship to the University of Texas, and I went into the army. We didn’t see each other for those long years, but we kept in touch with letters and occasional phone calls.
When I left the military, I met Julia, and we married.
” He patted his wife’s hand and gave her a soft smile.
“In the meantime, Demetra met Benjamin when she was hired on as a communications coordinator for the PGA. He swept her off her feet, and she thought she’d found the love of her life. ”
Athena tightened her jaw at the mention of her father. Her mind reeled at the thought of her mother, young and full of hope, falling for the man who’d become a controlling tyrant.
“Thought she’d found the love of her life,” Athena echoed, hearing the bitterness in her voice. She exchanged glances with her sister. How did Calista feel about all this?
“Julia and I fell on hard times. I won’t go into our financial struggles, but when Demetra heard about our plight, she persuaded Benjamin to hire me as his chauffeur.
His previous driver had just quit, and I was so grateful to have such a high-paying job, even if Benjamin was a demanding boss.
” Cantu looked from Athena to Calista and back again.
How had she not known that Cantu and her mother were so close? Had her father known?
“Why didn’t she just leave him then?” Athena asked.
“Your mother didn’t always see her own worth. She carried the scars of her childhood with her, no matter how much she tried to hide them. It made it hard for her to believe she deserved better. Benjamin exploited her vulnerability.”
Athena’s chest tightened, her guilt twisting with a new ache. She stayed for me, but she also stayed because she thought she had no other choice.
Memories rushed to the surface—her mother’s subdued smiles, the quiet way she’d retreat during Benjamin’s outbursts, the looks she gave her daughters that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words.
Each recollection shifted, taking on new meaning, reframed by the truth Athena had only just begun to uncover.
“She truly believed—or convinced herself—that having you would calm Benjamin down.” Cantu’s voice sagged heavy with sorrow.
“She had seen enough children from broken homes in foster care to know how hard it was. She hoped that starting a family might bring out the better parts of him, that being a father might soften his edges.”
“So Dad never knew about your past with Mamá?” Calista asked.
“No. Your mother feared he’d use our relationship as a tool for manipulation. Threatening to fire me to get her to comply with whatever he might want her to do. And she was right. He would have.”
It made sense, but it hurt to think of Demetra forced into a life of secrets and lies. But it wasn’t just Demetra. How many times had Athena lied and hid things to keep peace with her father? Far too many to count.
“After the divorce,” Cantu went on, “after your father took you away from her and got legal custody, Demetra begged me to stay, to watch over you girls, to be her eyes and ears when she couldn’t be there herself.”
The revelation hit Athena like a badly shanked drive, leaving her off-balance and struggling for solid ground.
Every car ride, every quiet moment, Cantu had been silently observing and reporting back to her mother.
Did he tell Demetra about the times Athena had cried after losing a tournament?
Or when she’d confided her doubts to Cantu about following in her father’s footsteps?
“All those years,” Calista said, “she kept in touch with us through you.”
Cantu nodded, his face carved with the pain of over thirty years of silence and secrets kept. “When you left golf, Calista, I almost quit then.” He shifted his gaze back to Athena. “But I couldn’t leave your sister alone with him, unguarded and unprotected.”
“And then, when Demetra died, you were set free,” Athena said.
“No. Although it was kind of your mother to leave this B&B to me and Julia, so we would have a place to call our own for all my years of loyal service, I didn’t feel free to leave until you decided not to return to your father.” Cantu’s gaze locked on Athena.
“But I thought the Lavender Lark belonged to Paul and Luna,” Calista said.
“No.” Luna shook her head with a kind smile. “We were just temporarily running the place for Demetra until Cantu, Julia, and Mateo could make their way to Hobby Island.”
Athena jumped to her feet, her chair scraping against the flagstone. She needed to be alone. Needed space to process this bombshell.
“Dear?” Eloisa asked, concern twined through her voice. “Are you all right?”
Athena didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She simply walked away from the table and the people gathered around it, knowing she could not stay there one second longer.