Page 86 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“But surely the other ones were painted with myths, as well, yes?” August asked. “Why that one in particular?”

“It was the prettiest,” her father said, biting off each word.

“Do you remember the name of the seller?” August devoured his toast. He hadn’t been joking about being hungry.

“Never got a name.”

“Did you buy that one in particular because you were told it had belonged to the Cult of Aphrodite?” August asked. Her father raised his eyebrow so high Lia was having trouble telling where it ended and his hairline began. “I noticed the statue in Lia’s room. That’s why I ask.”

“What’s your interest in this?” her father demanded.

“It’s unusual, isn’t it? A statue of the Greek goddess of romantic love in a child’s room?”

“Are you implying something, Bowman?”

“Daddy, no!” Lia cried before her father could lean over the table and beat August’s pretty face into a pretty pulp. “We’re trying to figure something out about my kylix. That’s all. Please, Daddy?”

He could never resist a genuine “please” from her.

“Lia was the first girl born in the family in three hundred years,” he said at last.

“In the music room,” August prompted. “Yes? Because of a storm?”

“I delivered her,” her father said. He glanced at Lia. “Storm came out of nowhere, just like the night of your graduation party, darling. Your mother wasn’t due for another month. We had tickets to the symphony. Then the storm hit and your mother went into early labor. I called the village doctor but his road was flooded as badly as ours. Couldn’t get out. Couldn’t get anyone in. Nothing to do but do it myself.”

“I’ve never been so scared,” her mother said. “And he was so calm.”

“On the outside.” Daddy winced. “Inside I was a bloody wreck. But nature took her course and then there you were.” He smiled at Lia, before looking back at August. “The moment I laid eyes on her, I was a changed man. It was truly the single happiest moment of my life. This tiny girl...my whole life in my two hands. Perfect except... Lia wasn’t breathing.”

“What?” Lia asked, shocked.

“You weren’t breathing,” her father repeated, meeting her eyes. “I did everything I could. I pushed on your chest, spanked your tiny arse like they do in the movies, breathed in your mouth and nose. I’ve never been so desperate or scared in my life. If I’d lost you... God, I would rather have lost myself.”

Mum placed her hand on top of Daddy’s and held it tightly.

“Mona was in and out of consciousness,” her father told August. “She’d bled a lot, was nearly delirious. I didn’t know what to do. I’m an old heathen, but that night I prayed with everything in me to every god I could think of. I remember looking up and seeing that little statue of Aphrodite on the mantel in the music room. I prayed to her, too.”

“You called her name?” August asked.

“I might have.”

“What happened when you called on her name?”

“I can’t explain it,” her father said. “I’ve thought about it for years, and it never made sense. But...it was like a miracle. A gust of wind blew the French doors open. The room filled with thousands of rose petals from the garden. Lia was in my two hands like this...” He held out his hands, miming cradling a tiny baby. “She was going cold.”

Mum blinked tears from her eyes.

“It was like someone pinched Lia,” Daddy said. “Or blew in her ear. She jerked in my hands. And then, by God, Lia opened her eyes and her tiny mouth and screamed her bloody head off.” Her father put his hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t trade every symphony and sonata in the world for the sound of that scream.”

“You think Aphrodite answered your prayer?” August asked.

“I can’t bring myself to believe that,” her father said. “But I will say...that gust of wind was strong enough to blow the doors open and rip the petals off every single rose in the garden. It knocked over chairs in the music room and every single candle, clock and bric-a-brac sitting on the fireplace mantel. When it was all over, the one thing left standing was that Aphrodite statue.” Daddy gave Lia a wan smile. “I suppose this all sounds mad.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. It sounded like the fevered memories of a terrified father to her. “But...why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“I didn’t even tell Mona at first,” her father said, glancing at her mother. “Only after I’d spent the first three months of your life sleeping on a cot in the nursery did she drag it out of me.”

“You did what?” Lia’s jaw dropped open. August’s arm wound around her back in comfort.

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