Chapter 33 #2
“Yes,” Eloisa said. “For both of us, really. We saved each other, in a way. Became more than friends. We became family.”
The weight of Eloisa’s words descended over them. Calista viewed her entire childhood through a new lens, understanding for the first time the depth of the bond between Eloisa and her mother.
“There’s more.” Eloisa’s gaze drifted to the corner of the breakfast nook.
Calista turned, noticing for the first time a small, battered trunk sitting on the floor. “What is that?”
Eloisa pushed back from the table and got to her feet, retrieved the trunk, and brought it back to the table. Athena moved the dishes so Eloisa could settle the trunk in front of them.
“Remember, Calista, I told you I had a trunk of your mother’s? She left this for you both.” Eloisa rested her hand on the lid. “I’ve been keeping it safe, waiting for the right time.”
Calista and Athena exchanged a look.
“You ready for this?” Calista asked her sister.
“No, but we gotta open it.”
“Together?” Calista asked, putting a hand on one of the clasp locks.
Athena nodded and placed her hand on the opposite clasp. “Together.”
Simultaneously, they flipped the clasp locks open and raised the lid.
Inside, they found handwritten letters tied with faded ribbons, worn journals, and a few small packages in gift wrapping paper.
“Mamá’s personal correspondence.” Tears swam in Athena’s eyes as she sat back hard into the chair, looking dumbfounded.
Eloisa placed a comforting hand on her sister’s forearm. “Things she wrote, all those years, letters, journals full of things she couldn’t say out loud. And gifts . . . unopened and marked ‘return to sender.’ ”
“Dad,” Athena said, bitterness creeping into her voice.
A lump filled Calista’s throat. All those years of feeling abandoned, of not understanding why her mother hadn’t tried to get them back or make contact when they were older, condensed into these brittle papers and forgotten presents.
“Why? Why didn’t she tell us that he sent her letters and gifts back?”
Eloisa’s expression softened, filled with a sadness and compassion that hurt Calista’s heart.
“She was afraid you’d reject her. She was ashamed of her affair with Gavin and terrified you’d judge her harshly.
She let shame and fear stop her from reaching out.
She regretted it so much, all the rest of her life.
I know it’s hard to understand, but she never had a road map for what a loving family unit looked like.
Her foster parents were kind, but it wasn’t the same.
They had so many kids coming and going from their home. ”
“She tried once to reach out, didn’t she?” Calista said, her memory of Demetra at Chevron shimmering in her mind. She’d been dressed in daisy yellow, standing out in the crowd, or Calista probably wouldn’t even have seen her there.
“Yes,” Eloisa said. “She finally felt strong enough to risk your rejection. She wanted to see her two daughters compete against each other in the most prestigious tournament in women’s golf.”
“So why did she run away?” Calista asked. “Why didn’t she stay?”
“Because Benjamin saw her there and threatened her to stay away. He vowed to take his anger out on you, and she knew his threats weren’t idle.”
“Oh, Mamá!” Athena exclaimed.
“Demetra’s dying wish was for me to bring you two back together, and in my devotion to her, I said yes. I was manipulative,” Eloisa said. “I admit it and thank heavens your mother’s plan worked. Otherwise you two might never have reconciled.”
Calista met her sister’s eyes.
“I love you,” Athena said.
“I love you too.”
They reached across the table and held hands.
Then Calista reached into the trunk with trembling fingers and pulled out a letter at random.
The paper felt delicate, as if it might crumble at any moment.
The familiar handwriting was a gut punch.
It was dated a few years after Benjamin gained custody of them.
“Read it out loud,” Athena said.
Calista exhaled, cleared her throat, and started reading.
“My darling girls, there’s so much I wish I could tell you, so many things I want to explain.
But the words never seem to come out right.
How do I make you understand that staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was the only way I knew to keep you safe.
How do I tell you that not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, wonder about you, love you with every fiber of my being? ”
Athena placed a palm over her mouth, silent tears slipping down her face.
Eloisa slipped away from the table and returned with a box of tissues.
Reading on, Calista said, “I know you must be angry. Confused. Hurt. You have every right to be, but please know that everything I’ve done, every choice I’ve made, has been out of love for you. Even if it doesn’t feel that way.”
Tears blurred Calista’s vision, and she had to stop reading.
Athena pressed a tissue into Calista’s hand and dabbed at her own eyes with another.
“There’s a lot more,” Eloisa said. “So much more. Letters she wrote after you left home, even when she knew you’d never read them. And these . . .” She lifted one of the gift-wrapped packages. “Presents she tried to send that got returned.”
Athena took the package, addressed to her, and unwrapped it with careful fingers, taking her time. Inside was a black velvet box with a pair of pearl stud earrings inside. “She tried to send this to me, and I never knew she cared.”
Calista reached for a package marked with her name. She tore away the paper, revealing a beautiful leather-bound journal. The cover was soft and pliant. Inside, the pages were blank except for a single inscription on the first page:
For Calista, moro mou, my dreamer. May these pages hold all the hopes and wishes of your heart. Never stop reaching for the stars. All my love, always, Mamá.
Calista hugged the journal to her chest, tears flowing now. She’d spent so long feeling disconnected from her mother, but these letters, these gifts, were tangible proof of the love that had always been there, even when she couldn’t experience it.
She looked to Athena, both of them holding pieces of their mother’s love. The weight of the past, the pain, the misunderstandings—it all shifted, not disappearing, but transforming into something new. Something that held hope and healing.
“We need time,” Calista said to Eloisa. “To go through all of this, to . . . process it.”
Eloisa nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need. And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, so are Dot, Vivian, and Clare, as well as Luna and Paul, Orion and Artie, and now Cantu, Julia, and Mateo too. Whenever you need help, we’ll be here.”