Page 101 of Resilience

Mrs. Ravelle gave her a smile and a wink, and sent her on her way.

As Athena drove back home, her mood was lighter. That little slice of normalcy was precisely the reset that her weird day had needed, and now she could think clearly about all the weirdness.

Hunter was dead. A car accident was the official reason, and the gossips today had swallowed that story whole. He could no longer hurt her or anybody else, and he’d paid for the hurt he’d caused. Soon, she’d go up to Kansas and have the uterus blob removed, and it would all be over.

And she had Sam. In all the ways she’d always had him and wonderful new ways she hadn’t realized she needed.

Back to her regularly scheduled life, everything as it should be.

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~oOo~

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“He’ll get over it,” Dad said and signed. Then he shoved a forkful of tri-tip into his mouth and chewed. “Once he takes a beat, he’ll understand we did it the only way we could. He’s fucking batshit if he thinks I was going to let it be put to a vote.”

When Athena returned with the maple apple pie, Mom and Aunt Deb had been in the kitchen. It had been instantly clear that whatever Aunt Deb hadn’t known last night, she was fully up on the situation now—like fully up. She even knew that Athena was pregnant and had an appointment not to be.

The only one among the two families who didn’t know everything was Mason. Athena would love it if he remained in the dark forever, but she understood the way her family worked and didn’t have a lot of hope about that. At any rate, he hadn’t come tonight, so everyone was speaking freely.

Soon enough, however, everybody would know the whole story. Athena had just learned that Uncle Eight also knew everything, because Dad and Uncle Simon had gone together to tell him.

And Eight was angry.

“My point,” Uncle Simon replied, “is that Eight’s been extra tense. The Eureka shit has him twisted up, and the shit that went down in Laughlin tightened the ropes. We have to make sure he does understand that we did it right. I know you think the club had no place in the decision, and I understand why. I don’t think I’d feel different if I had a daughter in that situation. But there were five patches in the barn last night. The club was involved, and we didn’t give the president a heads-up. He’s pissed for a good reason, even if he’s more pissed than is reasonable. If Eight thinks whole chunks of the table are working behind his back, that’s big trouble.”

“I have called Eight a lot of things in the many years I’ve known him,” Dad replied, “but paranoid isn’t one of them.”

“And yet I’m surprised you and I got out of his office without bleeding today. He’s under siege, Apollo. You have to deal with him as a patch at the table, not a father protecting his child.”

“What’s your concern about Eight?” Mom asked—and the three patches at this table all focused on her. “Is he becoming a problem?”

“Don’t, J,” Dad said. Athena saw the way her mother’s neck and shoulders went rigid at the rebuke.

Mom leaned in toward Dad. “Then don’t fucking talk about this shit at the dinner table. You think because you tell me what’s going on you’ve done your part, but when you shut me down, you are not keeping your promise. I don’t have a vote in the chapel, but here, you best fucking believe I have a say.”

Aunt Deb and Uncle Simon exchanged a look that suggested similar discussions had been had at the farm. Sam was obviously uncomfortable.

Athena clapped her hands and drew everyone’s attention to her. “As the reason for all this, I want a say.”

Dad smiled a little—one of those Dad smiles that meant he was both irritated and proud. “Go ahead.”

“What if I talk to Uncle Eight?”

“No, Athena,” Mom responded at once.

“Hold up,” Sam said. “I think it’s not a bad idea.”

“Go on, son,” Uncle Simon said—and all of a sudden, the men were talking amongst themselves again, when Athena was trying to have her say. At least Sam glanced at her and let her know he understood what was happening before he went ahead and did it.

“Eight won’t lose his shit at her, for one thing,” Sam said. “I think he’s a little ... afraid of her, or something? Like he’s worried he’ll break her if he’s not careful. So he’ll listen and try to be nice. And she’s good at making her point.” He laughed. “She’s good at getting her way, really. That’s why she was even there last night. Have you ever had anybody who wasn’t a patch in the barn before, not counting the ones you were there to hurt?”

Dad shook his head in another of those familiar gestures of irritation and pride. “Yeah, difficult women are my jam. It would seem.”

Mom flipped him off, and Dad returned the favor. But that was good—that was a common, flirty way for them to end a fight. There were other ways they ended fights, but those were mainly the sort Athena really preferred not to think about.

Meanwhile, Sam had just made the point Athena had intended to make—with a little bit of condescension on top, maybe. She was annoyed, but the parental types all laughed or (in her mom’s case) relaxed a little, so she couldn’t work up a full mad about it.

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