Athena's Secrets

by Donna Del Oro

  “Since your cousin Lorena has foreseen Kyri—“

  “Kyriakos. They call him Kas, short for Kyriakos Alexander Skoros,” her mother clarified.

  “Er, Kas’s possible death, I wanted to give him a different look, like he’s determined to cheat death. A feeling of confidence and hope, the poor guy probably needs it.” She shook her head. “How sucky! His own mother says he’s going to die in a car crash. Such encouragement.” Shrugging thoughtlessly, as if her black humor would fall on deaf ears, Athena almost laughed. Then she saw her mother’s shocked look.

  “First of all, ’Thena, she hasn’t told me which of her two youngest sons she saw die in a horrible dream. Secondly, you don’t really believe that Lorena can see the future, do you? You think this is all nonsense?”

  Stung by her mother’s look of outrage, Athena narrowed her eyes defensively and refused to budge. “No, Mum, I don’t believe your cousin can see the future. Precogs only exist in sci-fi movies.”

  “Well, let’s hope in this case, Lorena is mistaken. Even what you call ‘precogs’ make mistakes…I would think. Speaking of whom, Lorena Skoros and her family have invited us to visit them for Thanksgiving weekend.”

  It was now Athena’s turn to be shocked. “But-but I can’t go. I have to work that weekend.”

  Her mother stood up, all five-foot-five of her, erect and stubborn. “Oh no, you don’t. While your father’s in England on government business, you and Chris are coming with me to California. And there, bella figlia mia, you will see for yourself what my cousin is capable of.” She took another long look at the painting and softened a bit. “Lorena will be happy to see this portrait of her son. Kyriakos is the youngest of the four sons. Very handsome, intelligent, well-educated—and unmarried.”

  Stunned, Athena watched Anna turn away and walk to the sink. So that’s it! They’re playing matchmaker, the two cousins. They’re trying to hook us up! Me and a guy who’s almost thirty! Un-friggin’-believable!

  There wasn’t just clairvoyance and an obligation to do good in their bloodline’s DNA. The women were smart and determined. Not to mention, sneaky and conniving!

  Well, Thanksgiving was two weeks away. She’d think of something to get out of Mum’s hidden agenda! It seemed her mother wasn’t busy or content enough doing police work on the sly.

  The cute guy—Tony something-or-other, a Polish name, she thought—was working during the long Thanksgiving weekend. And she wanted to work it, too. Her miserably uneventful social life depended on it.

  She’d shown Tony her portrait of the sheriff’s deputy in the break room, her huge portfolio propped obtrusively against the cabinet, making him almost trip over it. She’d caught him in mid-fall, and had received a swarm of feelings—all positive, all lusty. Tony liked her, was attracted to her, even desired her. That very day, she began to send him her own flirty vibes. He looked encouraged, but hadn’t yet asked her out, though she knew he was building up toward it.

  She just had to stay in town by herself. With everyone gone, maybe she’d do a little entertaining of her own.

  Chapter Four

  Athena took her first break at eleven that morning, and since she’d eaten little for breakfast, her hunger pangs were acute. The bagel she’d wrapped up earlier at home had to suffice, she knew, for there wasn’t time to nuke a breakfast wrap or English muffin. She was slurping down her orange juice when Tony poked his head around the door of the break room.

  “Sorry, gorgeous, but we need you up front. Another crowd’s arrived. Barb’s getting her drinks mixed up, and Fergy’s looking frantic.”

  He shot her a brilliant smile before disappearing. Barb was the new girl whom Athena was trying to train at the brew bar, and Fergy was the store manager, a talented metal sculptor who subsidized his income with a steady paycheck. As he often said, the paycheck paid his rent and groceries but his sculptures fed his soul. Another poor artist with high-minded ideals, she was surrounded by them. Heck, she was one of them!

  Gorgeous, she mused, jumping up and tossing the rest of the bagel away. She took one more swig of juice and wiped her mouth with a napkin. A quick look in the mirror by their lockers reminded her that she was anything but gorgeous. Neat and clean, yeah, but not gorgeous. Her bangs were plastered across her forehead with perspiration, her face was flushed from slaving for two hours over a warm machine that spit out hot brewed coffee and steamy milk. Her coral lipstick had long since worn off, and there were dark, bluish shadows under her eyes. In her opinion, the green tint of her eyes was her only saving grace, and it pleased her Tony—a tall, cute, curly-haired junior at the University of Virginia—found her not totally loathsome to look at. At least her other good feature—long blonde hair, shot through with strands of brown, caramel, blond, platinum—was something she could be a little vain about. Long, thick and wavy, her hair came compliments of her father’s genes. Her body type, too, was her father’s. Her figure was average, neither slim nor plump, but her taller-than-average height compensated and made her legs look longer than they really were.

  Oh, well, I am what I am. Gorgeous or not.

  The store was suddenly packed. Five minutes ago, there had been no more than ten customers sitting around the store. Now, the line in front of the counter sported twice that number and the sound of waiting patrons had reached a dull roar. Half a dozen empty cups, labeled and ranging in size from tall to venti, greeted her alongside the left machine, and Barb was frazzled, close to a tearful meltdown. Athena patted her back and whispered to her, “Go take a break, I’ll take over. Go on. Come back in five, okay?”

  A shaky Barb smiled gratefully and left. Athena threw a look over at Fergy, who was arching his thick black eyebrows. To his credit, he didn’t leave his post at the register and had decided, she assumed, to trust her judgment. After whipping out two drinks and calling them out, Tony joined her and took over the other brew machine. He touched her shoulder briefly but the touch sent a shockwave down her arm. And made her picture an image just as shocking.

  She and Tony, naked as jaybirds, his body behind her, pumping hard against her—she almost dropped the cup in her hand.

  “Good idea, Athena.” Tony nodded. “Nice of you, too. She was on the verge of breaking down. When she comes back, I’ll send her to the register to calm down.”

  For a moment, she stopped what she was doing and looked at him. His facial expression gave away nothing remotely close to his salacious thoughts. Well, maybe something. A reddish spot dotted one pale cheek and his deep blue eyes burned with laser intensity when he turned them her way. Her heartbeat raced as she realized he did indeed want her…badly.

  Wow! Tall, cute, curly-haired Tony was going to become her first lover. He just didn’t know it yet.

  ****

  A week later, Athena came downstairs from her room to find her father having a whiskey on the rocks in the living room. He was staring at the corner where her easel stood, a cloth covering the current work-in-progress. Another cloth-covered canvas, the one of Kas Skoros, rested at the foot of the easel. She’d add a touchup or two, and then spray it with varnish one more time. Her mother would take it with her on the flight to California and present it to the Skoros family as a gift.

  Her father was home an hour early, so Athena had to do a double take. Pleased beyond words, happy to see him, she bounded over to greet him. He smiled at her.

  “Yes, luv, I promised not to look. Some sort of surprise for the Skoros family, am I right?” Her father tossed her a lopsided smile.

  Trevor Butler, scion of an English family which could trace its roots back to King William the first and the Norman Conquest, was tall, at least six-foot-three, slim in build although easing gently toward a stocky middle, with a full shock of graying dark-blond hair. It pleased Athena that she’d inherited his physical looks and his wry sense of humor. She considered him a success, for he’d risen from being a small-town Yorkshire barrister to a couple of stints in the House of Commons, and then on to Foreign Service
work in Turkey, Croatia, and France, ultimately landing his current plum assignment, Cultural Attaché to the British Embassy in Washington, D.C. His career goal was to have his own Consulate in a country of his choosing. Or maybe even an Ambassadorship. Her pride in him knew no limits, and they were close in ways different from the bond she felt with her mother.

  As soon as she gave him a fierce hug, her mind was hit by a jumble of images transmitted so lightning fast she couldn’t read them all. One image lasted longer than the others: Sunshine, ocean waves, palm trees.

  “Are we going to Florida for the holidays?” she asked him after they released each other. “Or just wishful thinking?”

  “Blimey, ’Thena, will you shut that off? I keep forgetting how you read minds. It’s quite disconcerting. Respect my privacy, will you, luv? Not to mention, I must remind you, some of my thoughts are officially classified government information.”

  Immediately chastened, she said, “Sorry, Father, I forget sometimes.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and watched him glance again at her easel in the corner. “Don’t even think you’re going to get away with a peek. This is my classified work, at least until I finish it. The one on the easel—it’s a Christmas surprise for you and Mum.”

  Actually, since she was taking Portrait Painting this semester, she thought she’d do an interesting portrait of her parents in the chiaroscuro style. It was the style that the French painter, Georges de la Tour, made famous during the seventeenth century, and Caravaggio expanded upon. Faces and upper torsos were lit by a single candle, so two-thirds of the subjects were in darkness. The result was very striking, very dramatic. She wanted to see if she could get it right, just like de la Tour and Caravaggio.

  Her father sat in a nearby wing chair, his feet propped up on a matching ottoman, and he invited her to join him.

  Athena could hear her mother speaking to their housekeeper/cook, Tilly, who came in three afternoons a week to help with domestic chores. Athena’s bedroom and bathroom were off-limits, for she preferred to clean those herself. Chris’ room was always a disaster, especially after a weekend home from boarding school. Athena had taken before-and-after photos of the miracle that took place when Tilly whirled through.

  “Mind if I join you with a Coke and Jack, Father?” She went over to the credenza bar and looked back at him expectantly. Her father frowned.

  “‘Thena, I don’t want to condone this sort of thing. Wine would be better.”

  She sighed. “Okay.” Instead, she poured herself a glass of Prosecco from a bottle in the bar’s small fridge. They held up their glasses toward each other.

  “Cheers,” they chorused. Athena approached and clinked glasses with her father.

  “You’re becoming a bloody American, luv. They’re the only ones who do that. Maybe it’s time to return home for good. Or at least go back to the continent. What do you think?”

  She knew her father was teasing her, taunting her more likely, for he loved his assignment in D.C. and knew she loved the Art Institute. They were a five-hour flight from London, so if government or family matters called him home, the visit was always short-lived. In response to his teasing threat, she screwed up her face.

  “Very funny, Father. Just for that, I think I’ll become a naturalized American. Now tell me about the palm trees and sunny beaches.”

  Having already shed his jacket, Trevor leaned back in his shirtsleeves and loosened his tie. He took another sip of Scotch and wiped his mouth with the back of one knuckle.

  Athena looked on patiently, admiring his vibrant blue eyes and handsome features, wondering if she’d ever fall in love with a man half as good-looking, intelligent, and as accomplished as her father. Would she ever get married?

  “Indeed, I shall. And you’ll be very pleased, I trust. Tomorrow, your mother and I are flying to California, San Francisco, to be precise. Sir Peter’s number one and number two men were unavailable, and so it has fallen upon me to christen, so to speak, the new Consulate-General in San Francisco. As you know, your mother’s cousin lives nearby, and your mother plans to stay on for the Thanksgiving holiday next week. I’ll fly back on Sunday. I won’t have much time with you and Chris, just overnight to sleep and grab my thick overcoat, and then it’s on to London for some briefings having to do with the PM’s visit in January. You’ll be in charge of hearth and home this weekend. Now, I know you told your mother you didn’t want to go, but when Christopher comes home for the holiday on Sunday, you and he will fly out to California on Monday to join your mother.” He sighed audibly. “Lots of comings and goings this weekend. Do you think you can handle all the responsibility, the solitude, the freedom, for two whole days?”

  As his news sank in, Athena’s thoughts ran to the possibilities that had just opened up to her. It was Thursday evening, and that meant she’d have the condo to herself for at least two days and two nights, most of the weekend, in fact. Chris was due home Sunday by noon and they’d be flying to California on Monday. Suddenly, her objections to the Skoros visit dissolved. As long as she had a couple days of freedom to do as she pleased, a week in California didn’t seem so frightful.

  A glance at the leaden sky outside the living room window, and having heard the news report promising more snow flurries in the next few days, made Athena’s spirit soar. Instantly, the promise of a little sunshine and sandy beaches sounded divine! Then she frowned.

  “I’ve heard San Francisco is very cold in the winter. The Skoroses live near Sacramento. Isn’t Sacramento inland? There’re no beaches or palm trees there. Is it even sunny in the winter there?”

  Her father shot her a droll smile. “You are always so geographically savvy. Yes, it’s inland, closer to the mountains, but the Skoroses have promised you and Chris either a skiing holiday or a visit to the ocean. They expect it to hit the high seventies out there next week. It’s not Florida but…”

  Athena laid on a thick English accent, “It sounds divine, Father.”

  His eyebrows cocked, he studied her for a moment, then sat back and closed his eyes. Fatigue lined his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Think you can handle the freedom, luv?”

  “Of course, Father. I’m not fourteen.” Her voice sounded convincing, to her ears, anyway. “Have you forgotten I’m turning twenty December first?”

  “Ah, indeed, so true. I’ve been so busy of late, I need to catch up on your news. So, any boyfriends? Or at the very least, male admirers in your spotlight?”

  If Athena didn’t know better, she could swear her father was the psychic of the family. How could he know?

  “I have a date tomorrow night,” she said but added quickly, “it’s a double date with Mikayla and her new boyfriend. I’m going with a guy from work. His name’s Tony Grabowski. We’ve worked together for almost two months now. He came to our store from the Georgetown branch. He’s a junior at UV, majoring in computer science.”

  She’d rushed through his bona fides so it didn’t surprise her when her father blinked his eyes and gazed upon her with open curiosity.

  “Your first date with…this Tony?”

  “Uh, not really. It’s our second one. Tuesday night he took me out for pizza.”

  Afterwards, their French kissing had evolved to heavy petting in his car, thank heavens, and she’d managed to keep her clairvoyance shut off the entire time. Why spoil a fun time by doing a Peeping Tom? Maybe she’d finally lose her virginity tomorrow night. In two weeks, she’d turn twenty, and she was bound and determined not to be a twenty year-old virgin with no romantic prospects in sight!

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this young chap? He is young, isn’t he? You’re not dating your forty-year-old manager, are you?”

  Athena giggled at her father’s reaction. “Good grief. No, Father, Tony’s twenty-one, a junior at UV. Very cute, very smart.”

  “Good Lord, is this serious, Athena?”

  The question took her aback. She had no answer for her father. What could s
he say? Tony would make a good first lover—or at least she hoped so—but marriage, kids and a mortgage were unthinkable at this point in her life. In a way, she’d lived a very sheltered life in spite of her cosmopolitan upbringing. And her yearning to explore, to live, to experiment, was making her want to burst out of her skin. But she was willing to take baby steps instead of sprinting ahead.

  Was she chicken, as Mikayla would put it, or just prudent and cautious?

  When he refused to look away, she searched for a reply. A sanitized, redacted reply meant for parents’ ears only.

  “Well, I don’t know, Father. I don’t know him that well. We’re attracted to each other, is all I can say. You know my track record regarding the opposite sex. Not very good.”

  “That’s certainly not because of your looks or manners. You’re a pretty young woman with outstanding artistic talents, and you’re intelligent and kind. Any young man with half a brain would be lucky to attract your attentions. If you’re referring to that obstacle, that clairvoyance of yours, well…”

  Her father never called it a gift, like her mother always did. Their gift from God was how her mother expressed it. Nor did he call it a curse or miracle. She thought he regarded it as another sort of talent or ability, like a musical ability. But one which has caused difficulties at times. If she could’ve played a beautiful rendition of Beethoven, however, her father would’ve considered that a more practical, more admirable ability. Come to think of it, Beethoven’s genius made him suffer, too, so there always was a trade-off, wasn’t there? Although he never said so, Athena thought her father regarded her artistic talents as more useful, more marketable, than her clairvoyance. And far less troublesome.

  And he was correct. What was marketable or lucky about being clairvoyant?

  Unbidden, a few memories of her high school crushes and the resulting humiliations flooded her mind. As soon as she had allowed in the thoughts and feelings of her high school boyfriends—all two of them—she’d learned the truth. They wanted her body—oh, how they wanted to do things to her body!