by Raye Wagner
“It’s called friendship, Hope. You don’t owe me anything. But I will be your best friend if I can have some of that roast.”
They stopped for lunch at a sandwich shop, and when they headed back to the car, she slid into the passenger seat.
Once they were on the interstate, she turned to him. “What was your mom like?”
Athan was quiet.
Had she offended him? Should she apologize? “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to—”
“She was the greatest.” His voice was soft, as if he was living among his memories. “She was beautiful. She had dark hair, almost black, and I got her green eyes. She loved to laugh, and she would try to play jokes on people, but she could never keep a straight face. She loved to dance. When I was little, she would turn on music, and we would dance in the living room. She was a great cook, too. She was . . . she was the best mom.”
“What happened?”
His gaze hardened, and he took a deep breath. His exhale was slow and measured. “She got sick. The doctors didn’t know what it was. My dad went crazy trying to find someone to help her, but no one could.” His words were strained. “One night she went to bed and didn’t wake up. We knew it was coming, but still . . .”
“Do you miss her?” She stared out the windshield, trying not to cry.
“Every day.”
“Me, too.” Her tears fell, and she wiped them away choking back her emotion. Athan took her hand, and a portion of her pain lifted.
“What about your dad?” she asked.
“He’s gone, too,” he whispered.
Hurting for him and his loss, she wanted to give him some of the same relief, and Hope squeezed his hand. He had to know she was there for him, too.
He continued to hold her hand while they drove to Goldendale.
They spent the rest of the day on homework. And Hope found her perspective shifting even more. Athan was actually smart. Really smart. Especially in math and science.
When it started to get dark, Hope unwound herself from her chair and headed into the kitchen. She diced a tomato to toss into a salad and rinsed grapes from the bunch. She grabbed a couple of plates, silverware, and glasses and brought them to the counter. She dished up their dinner, just like she would for her and her mother, and brought the plates to the table.
Athan looked up from his homework as she came in and then jumped up out of his chair.
“I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention. I could have helped.” He ran into the kitchen and grabbed napkins from a holder on the counter.
When he joined her at the table, her heart thudded, and she gulped a deep breath. All the stability she’d tried to build in Goldendale was shattered, and Athan was sitting at her dinner table. She’d hated him, and now—
“Hey. What’s up?”
The warmth of his voice broke through her reverie, but she could only give him a blank stare.
“You don’t look so good.” He waved his hand in front of her. “You feeling okay? Is the shock getting at you?”
His words registered, and she looked at him with horror.
“Yeah.” Her appetite dissipated, but she sat down. “I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling myself.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Maybe another time.” Or another lifetime. There was no way to explain it without revealing everything. Which she would never do.
She picked at her meal, worrying and overanalyzing her actions and his behavior. She could tell Athan knew something was up, but he didn’t press.
When he scraped his fork on his plate, Hope noticed he’d devoured his food.
“Do you want seconds?”
He grinned. “If you aren’t going to finish yours, just pass me your plate.”
He did the meal justice, eating all of his food and most of hers.
“Go set up a movie,” he said when they were done. “I’ll load the dishes.”
She went into the living room, turned on the television, and scanned through the titles. There had to be something Athan would enjoy, or at least tolerate.
He came up behind her, reading over her shoulder. His body was so close the heat filled the space between them. She was no longer reading titles but trying to regulate her breathing.
“Hmm, what’s that one about?”
His voice was soft and low, and his breath tickled her neck. He placed his hand on her waist at the same moment she turned to ask him which movie he was talking about. Her breath caught. They were almost face to face. She moved to step back, but he held her close.
“Hope.” He breathed her name so softly it was a caress. He removed the remote from her hand and then brushed her hair away from her face. His green eyes were just inches from her gold ones, and she could feel the tension of his body, his muscles taut, the vein in his neck pulsing. “What are you thinking?”
Their breath mingled, and her emotions whirled. Her desire to lean into him was so overwhelming she struggled to form a coherent response. “What movie . . . should we watch?”
He laughed softly and clicked through the titles. “How ‘bout this one? Some Like It Hot?”
It took all her focus to pull herself together. “Yeah.”
The knock at the door felt like a jackhammer, startling them both. Hope jumped away as if they’d been caught, her heart pounding against her chest. Eyes wide, she looked at him, but the same confusion marked his features.
She thought of the dead man. Had the police found out about her? How could she explain?
The knock came again, this time a bit harder.
“Wait, Hope.” Athan grabbed her wrist. “Remember. We were together. No matter what they ask. We were together last night.”
She nodded at him, and with a deep breath, she opened the door.
Scott and Krista stood on her doorstep. Scott shifted from foot to foot, a grimace on his face. Krista looked like a cat that had just caught its prey.
“Oh. Hi.” Krista gave her a too-sweet smile. “Is Athan here? We thought we saw his truck outside, and he’s supposed to come with us to Lee’s tonight.”
“Sorry, guys. I totally forgot.” Athan moved toward the door and put his hand at the small of Hope’s back. “We were just getting ready to watch a movie.”
“Come on. You promised last night you’d come, and we need even numbers to play.” Krista was wheedling, her voice honey, but the hint was hardly subtle.
“Well, do you mind if Hope comes?” He looked to Hope with expectation and desire, and he nodded at her encouraging her to agree.
Krista rolled her eyes.
Before Krista could respond, Hope shook her head. “Actually, I think I’ll call it a night. I could use a little extra rest.”
Athan frowned. “Really? I could—”
“No, you should go ahead. I’m tired. I don’t think I’ll be much fun tonight.”
Krista beamed.
Athan looked at Hope intently. “No, really, Hope. I’d be happy to stay.”
“Come on, Athan. She already said she wanted you to come,” Krista said while waving him toward the door.
Gods, she was really putting on the pressure.
Athan put his palm to Hope’s cheek, drawing all of her attention to him. “Are you sure?”
When she nodded, he sighed.
“All right.” He turned to the two on the porch. “Why don’t you guys head over? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Krista shook her head. “It’s okay. We’ll just wait for you.”
They stepped off the porch and wandered in the yard. But, of course, they’d left the door open. Hope would admire Krista’s persistence if she didn’t despise her so much.
“If you’d feel better having someone here, you know I’ll stay, right?” Athan took Hope’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over her palms.
“Thanks. I’ll be okay.” She pulled away. “I’m so tired. I’m sure I’ll go right to sleep.”
“Will you call me if you do
n’t? I mean, if you’re scared, or need something, will you call me?”
She laughed because she felt like she should, but there was nothing funny. She was scared.
His lips pulled up into a sheepish grin. “I’m being ridiculous, huh?”
She offered a wan smile. “You’d better go before Krista comes and hauls you off.”
“You’re probably right.” He started toward the door but stopped halfway, returning to cup her chin in his hand. “Please remember to call me if you need anything,” he whispered and then he gently kissed her forehead.
Hope locked the door behind him and stumbled into the kitchen, feeling like the energy had been sucked from her body. She prayed to Hypnos for sleep and Artemis for protection before placing a small plate of the roast by the shrine of Hecate. But she grabbed her daggers, just in case.
Hope slept late Saturday. She told herself she deserved it. In fact, she deserved to spend the entire day in bed if she wanted to. But with a glance at the calendar, she saw there were only four days left before she’d shift. At the very least, she should take a shower.
She knew it was the shock taking a toll, but by the time she got out of the shower, she was exhausted. So she got into a clean pair of pajamas and spent all afternoon watching movies on the couch.
The knock at her door caused panic to flutter through her chest until she heard Athan’s voice calling her name. She opened the door and took him in. His hair was still damp, and she could smell the citrus from his soap. His moss-colored T-shirt made his eyes bright.
He pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “My aunt asked me to give you this.”
Hope stepped aside to let him in. “Everything okay with her?”
The disastrous dinner seemed ages ago.
Athan rolled his eyes. “Hades in hell. She’s been off her meds the last couple of weeks. I didn’t know. Usually she’s so . . . Anyway, she wanted to give you this, like an apology or something.”
He pushed the thick cream envelope into her hands.
Inside was a golden coin. One side was embossed with the figure of a woman holding a cornucopia and a set of old-fashioned scales. One favor was stamped on the other. The image reminded her of Athena, but neither the cornucopia nor the scales were Athena’s symbols.
“Is this for real?” Hope held it up.
His eyes widened and then closed. He shook his head.
“Gods. That is so embarrassing.” He offered a wan smile. “Do you want me to get rid of it?”
Maybe it was crazy, but intuition zinged, quick as lightning. There was something odd about the coin, and if felt powerful.
“No, I’ll keep it.” She tucked it back in the envelope and the envelope under her arm.
“You better hope you never need it,” he muttered.
What was that supposed to mean? “It’s not like I could spend it anywhere.”
He shrugged. “Not in this realm.”
She stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious.
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Just in the Land of Make-Believe.”
But the weight of the coin and its intricate detail spoke of its value. Maybe he didn’t know anything and he was just embarrassed about his aunt.
“Hey.” Athan leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to go get dinner?”
“That sounds great.” She’d barely eaten all day and was starving. “Where do you want to go?”
“I know this place in Yakima.” He smiled. “Birchfield.”
“I’ve heard it’s good. Just let me get dressed.” She pulled at the front of her tank top.
“And get a jacket. It’s a little cool out.”
She went back to her bedroom and opened her closet. She put the envelope with the coin in the Book of the Fates. Then she slipped on jeans, and as she reached for a T-shirt, she thought better of it. Instead, she pulled on a black camisole and wrapped a sheer black blouse over it. She pulled her hair back into a messy knot and clipped in a couple of black gem bobby pins. A little bit of makeup, and she grabbed a pair of black heels.
“Sorry that took so long.” Her heels clicked on the floor.
He said nothing.
“If you think it’s too formal, I can go change.” She turned to go back to her room.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip soft and warm.
“No, no.” His voice was husky. “Don’t. I just . . .” He stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb, and his gaze travelled her. “By the gods, you are beautiful.” He shook his head. “I’m sure you hear that all the time.” A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he continued, “We’d better go or we’re going to miss our reservation.”
He’d made a reservation? Nice.
They chatted about school, music, and movies, and the drive passed quickly. They arrived at Birchfield just before six. Athan handed the keys to the valet and offered Hope his arm.
Inside, the maître d’ looked up at the young people with disdain.
“Can I help you?” His voice was barely civil.
Hope looked to Athan and was surprised at the change in his countenance. Gone was the relaxed young man. He stood tall and, looking down on the maître d’, spoke evenly. “I have a reservation for six o’clock. Mr. Michael. Is our table ready?”
The man staggered, almost as if he’d sustained a physical blow. He shook his head, then looked back up. “Yes, sir. Right this way, sir.” With several glances behind him, all with wide eyes and fawning smiles, the maître d’ led them to a secluded table marked Private. “I trust this will do.” When Athan nodded, the man finished with, “Enjoy your evening.”
The coup de gras came when he bowed at them before leaving.
Hope had never seen someone so smitten and eager to please. “What was that?”
“What?” Athan raised his eyebrows as if nothing odd had happened.
Hope tried to put it into words. “He was so rude, and then all super nice. Like a complete change of heart.”
“Don’t you know the phrase ‘money talks?’”
He helped Hope into her seat and then slid into his. The waiter was prompt with their drink order, and the service was consistently superb. The food was exquisite. The plates disappeared as they finished each course, only to be replaced with the next. The experience was unlike anything she’d had before.
As they made their way back out to the valet, she took a sidelong look at her date. While he was dressed casually, he carried himself with poise and confidence unlike anyone she’d ever met. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she froze. That wasn’t true. She had known confidence like his.
But she pushed the thought away.
Impossible.
As he helped her into the truck, she thanked him.
“Did you have a nice night? Wasn’t the food great?” He was grinning.
“Yeah. The food was fabulous, and I love not having to do clean up.” She laughed at the thought of the number of dishes that would be required to make such a meal. “Seriously, thank you.”
“No, no. It was my pleasure. Really. I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did. Very much so.”
On the stereo was a soft piano medley, and Hope stared out the window at the night sky. When they pulled off onto Highway 97, the lack of lights made the stars bright.
“What are you looking at?” He reached out and touched her hand, drawing her attention to him.
“The stars.”
She rarely took the time to enjoy the night sky anymore. She used to love it, flying with her mom at the new moon. Hope closed her eyes, and with a deep breath made a decision to focus only on the present moment, the now. As she opened her eyes to the sky before her, she saw the waning moon was brilliant—only the brightest stars could compete. Still there were millions of them in the sky, and without city lights, it was breathtaking.
She turned and looked at him, but he was glancing up at the night sky, smiling, and then he turned back to the road.
“Do
you know very much about astronomy?”
“Orion, Cassiopeia.” With his index finger, he traced the constellations in the sky. “There’s Hercules, and Taurus. Over here is Gemini and Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.” As he traced the constellations, his voice grew wistful.
Hope shifted in her seat so she was nearly facing him. “Are you an astronomy whiz, or all-around nerd?”
He laughed. “I’m a nerd. Seriously. My dad, he loves astronomy. He would keep me up late pointing out the constellations. My mom would come outside and act put out, saying I should be in bed already. He’d just laugh and invite her to join us.”
He paused, but Hope had no intention of interrupting him.
“My dad said that if you knew the map of the constellations, you could never get lost.”
His reverie became soundless, and she waited in until he came back to the present.
“He seems like he was a great father,” she finally said.
“He tries to be.”
There was momentary silence as he allowed her to digest the words.
“He’s still alive? But you said . . . he was gone. You had to come live with your aunt?” Her voice was tight with incredulity.
He accepted her scrutiny without interruption. “My father travels a lot, and his schedule is not always his own. It’s easier to just say he’s gone than having to explain.” He averted his gaze as he spoke. There was tension in the muscles of his jaw, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “It sounds terrible, I know that, but I understand now. I didn’t when I was younger; it used to make me so mad. He takes me with him when he can.”
She could hear there was more. “What does he do?”
“He has a courier service of sorts.”
“Like FedEx?”
“Kind of. Messages are part of it. He also does some guide work.”
“So he’s self-employed?”
He snorted. “I guess you could say that.”
“He doesn’t like it?”
“Oh, mostly he likes it. He complains sometimes, but I guess that’s probably true regardless of what your job is, huh?”
“So, what’s the name of his company? Maybe I could use them sometime.” She thought it would be amusing.