Page 15 of Bows & Eros
The words and pictures on the menus swam in front of me, and realizing that concentration was not going to happen right now, I pushed it over to Ethan and said, "Pick something and order two. I'm starving."
He gave me a short nod and left the table, heading over to the long bar at the front of the restaurant to put in our order.
It gave me the opportunity to drop my head into my hands, squeeze my eyes shut, and heave a big, dramatic, utterly necessary sigh.
Every table in Crete Diner had a little map of the town etched under the glass, with the diner itself just right of center, where the town square was occupied by the permanent clutch of napkins, ketchup, salt, and pepper. If the window next to me hadn't been foggy with the cold, I could have looked outside and directly into the town square from where I was sitting. As it was, all I could see was a foggy blur of fairy lights strung around the trees in the distance, everything else blotted out and distorted by the frost.
I put my finger on the school and dragged it up to the park and over to the church. My little cottage was only a couple salt shakers’ distance farther to the left, and was quiet and warm and waiting for me. I bit my lip and dragged my finger back down through town and over to the diner. We had covered quite a lot of ground today. I should eat, even if I felt guilty doing so.
How is it so normal in here?I wondered, looking around. Everyone was in good cheer, yes, but otherwise it looked like a normal evening rush, with families and groups of friends all talking over one another as they ate.
I wanted to believe that whatever Aaron had done to people must be wearing off, but we'd just come from a church full of people still actively in the thrall of ridiculous love magic, so I doubted that was the case.
Maybe eating broke the spell? That seemed unlikely, but ...
Ethan slid back into his seat across from me and gave me a weak smile. "I couldn't decide either," he confessed, tucking the menu back into its slot, "so I just got the pancakes the reverend mentioned. That's what we always have when I bring Aaron here. I'm not sure I've ever ordered anything else."
"Chocolate chipandblueberry?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"It's a better combination than you think," he replied with a self-conscious shrug, his eyes sliding away from mine. "And it was Edna's specialty, back when she worked in the kitchen. I grew up on those pancakes."
I glanced at the elderly woman who owned the diner, the third or fourth in what was a family legacy, passed from parent to child. She was plump, with hair dyed a burnt orange color, and was leaning on the bar, giggling at something her husband was saying from behind it, her cheeks flushed and pink as he poured foamed milk into a cappuccino cup. It was hard to tell if this was just long-abiding true love or if she had been visited by the tip of a paper airplane today.
I wondered if I'd be suspicious of amorous couples for the rest of my life.
"Noor," said Ethan, drawing my attention back to him. His expression was serious, almost tense. "I know you have a lot of questions," he said, "and clearly a lot of things to say to me about my failures as a father."
"That isn't—" I began, a flash of embarrassment flaring in my chest.
"Don't," he said, holding up his hand. "You're not wrong, anyway. I know that. But let's focus on Aaron first and the mess he's created."
"You know Mr. Curie," I said, propping my elbows on the table. "Who is he?"
He gave a humorless laugh, repeating dryly, "Mister Curie."
I leveled a stare at him, unwilling to find the amusement in this. "Yes."
"He's Aaron's uncle or ... cousin of a sort, I suppose," Ethan said with what appeared to be tremendous effort. "I ... I don't really talk about it. Aaron doesn't know much about his mother."
"Yes, all he will ever say is that she was, evidently, a goddess," I replied dryly.
"Well, yes," said Ethan Weaver, holding my eye with a deadpan seriousness. "Sheisa goddess."
"Oh, is," I replied, widening my eyes with annoyance. "I didn't realize she was still in his life."
Or yours, I thought.
"She ... isn't," he muttered, shaking his head. "She doesn't have to be to wreak havoc, as you can see. He's inherited some ... gifts. And Hermes can't resist the urge to meddle. This isn't even the first time that he ... that Aaron ... ugh."
I stared at him, transfixed by this nonsensical mish-mash of partial information and all it implied. Mr. Curie, I thought. Hermes.
Otherwise known as Mercury.
"Aaron's mother," I managed, too stunned to tear my eyes away from him, "was aliteralgoddess."
Ethan gave a weary nod, shaking his head as though he still couldn’t believe it. “Yes,” he said. “She was.”
CHAPTER8
