The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (5 page)

Once I was done, Ava stared at me, her eyes shining. “Oh, Kate—you really jumped into the river to save me?”

I shrugged, and before I knew it, she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck. The hug lasted for nearly half a minute, things growing more awkward with each second that passed. Finally she let me go, although her hands were still on my shoulders.

“That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. When I tried to tell Dylan…” She bit her lip. “He laughed at me and told me to stop making stuff up.”

At the jock table, Dylan sat surrounded by his friends, laughing loudly. Next to me, Ava looked crushed. “So you broke up with him?” I said.

“It doesn't matter,” she said, picking at her sandwich. “He'll be begging to get back together with me in a week. What about Henry? You really promised him anything? What did he want?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James look up.

“I'm not really sure,” I said. “He asked if I knew about the myth of Persephone, and he told me the autumn equinox was in two weeks. He said once I read about her, I'd know what he wanted me to do. I've heard it before, but I don't get what that has to do with anything—”

Across the table, James dug through his backpack, tossing heavy books and binders onto the table. They landed with a thud, and half the cafeteria looked at us. I ducked my head, amazed as I tried to figure out how all of it fit into his bag, but finally he yanked out a thick book I recognized as our English
text. He flipped it open seemingly at random, but when I craned my neck to see what he'd turned to, I saw it wasn't random at all.

“This is the story of Persephone,” he said, pointing to a picture of a girl emerging from a cave. A woman stood on the grass, her arms open wide in greeting. “Queen of the Underworld.”

“The Underworld?” said Ava, leaning over to get a better look. “Which one?”

James gave her a look that could've withered a plant. “The one where the dead go. Tartarus? The Elysian Fields?”

“Greek mythology,” I said, turning the page. “See this guy?” I pointed to a dark-haired man half covered in shadow. “He's Hades, God of the Underworld. Ruler of the dead.”

“Like Satan,” said James.

“No, not like Satan,” said Ava. There was a hint of anger in her voice, but James either didn't notice or didn't care. “Satan's Christian, and the Underworld isn't hell. Hades isn't a demon. He's just…some guy who was put in charge of dealing with the souls of the dead. He sorts them out and stuff.”

I stared at her. “I thought you didn't know anything about this?”

She shrugged and looked down at the book. “Might've heard a few things before.”

“He kidnapped her,” said James in a voice so low it sent a shiver down my spine. “She was playing in a field, and he dragged her down to the Underworld with him to be his wife. She refused to eat, and while her mother, Demeter, appealed to Zeus—king of the gods—the world grew cold. Eventually Zeus made Hades give Persephone back, but by then she'd eaten a few seeds, and he insisted that it meant she had to spend part
of the year with him. So whenever she's with him as his wife, winter comes. It's the myth that explained the seasons to the Greeks.”

The temperature felt as if it'd dropped twenty degrees. A horrible thought crossed my mind, and I stared at James, trying to figure out if the implications of the deal I'd made with Henry were even remotely possible.

Ava, on the other hand, snorted. Loudly. “So he was lonely. It doesn't make him a bad guy—you don't know if she wanted to go down there with him. She might have, y'know.”

I ignored her and looked at James. “Do you think Henry's going to try the same thing on me?”

“That's ridiculous,” said Ava, rolling her eyes. “If he was going to kidnap you, he'd have already done it, right? It's not like he didn't have the chance when we were in the woods.”

“I don't know,” said James. “It's possible. Maybe he's waiting for the autumn equinox to do it. It's just a few weeks away, at the end of September.” He stared at me, blue eyes so wide I wondered if they were going to fall out of his head. “What if he wants you to stay with him during the winter?”

“He can't really expect me to drop everything and move in for a while,” I said uncertainly. “Or permanently.”

“He might not ask,” said James. “What happens then?”

Silence settled between the three of us, with only the buzz of the cafeteria around us. Finally I straightened my shoulders and said with as much conviction as I could, “Then I'll kick his ass and the police will arrest him. End of story.”

But it wasn't the end, because none of us were mentioning what had happened on the bank of the river. He'd somehow brought Ava back from the dead, and I didn't know how to explain it.

James slammed the book shut, and I jumped.

“Maybe so,” said James, “but it doesn't change the fact that you agreed to marry a complete stranger.”

Over the next two weeks, I had one option: forget about the deal I'd made, write it off as ridiculous, and move on with my life. Even if I'd had any other choice, my mother's health made sure that all of my attention was focused on her.

But James and Ava wouldn't let me forget it. With each day that passed, they argued in hushed whispers across the lunch table, sometimes seeming to forget I was even there. James seemed determined to talk me out of it, pointing out how little I knew about Henry and how he had to be a few colors short of a rainbow to even think about inviting me to stay with him for half of the rest of my life. But for every flaw in the deal that James brought up, Ava countered. She defended Henry relentlessly, even though none of us knew anything about him, but it was easy enough to figure out why. Without Henry, she'd be dead; of course she felt some amount of loyalty toward him.

They dissected the myth, both borrowing heavily from it to give weight to their argument, and asked me repeatedly to tell them exactly what Henry had said, but there was only so much information I could give them. Part of me worried and
counted the days with them, but most of me was too focused on my mother to care. The nightmares also continued, leaving me with only a few hours of sleep a night, but no one commented on the dark circles under my eyes. Eden was a small town, and they all knew about my mother.

A few days before the beginning of autumn, I came home to find her sitting in the middle of the weed-choked garden, and a knot of panic formed in my throat. Scrambling out of my car, I hurried to her side, kneeling next to her so I could get a good look at her face.

“Mom?” I said, my voice choked with worry. “You should be inside resting.” How did she even have the energy to do this? I glared at Sofia, who sat on the porch knitting.

Sofia shrugged. “She insisted.”

“I'm fine, slept all day,” said Mom, waving me away, but not before I could get a good look at her. Her skin was pale and paper-thin, but there was a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there the past few weeks.

“Come on,” I said, taking her elbow gently and trying to guide her upward. She stubbornly remained sitting, and I was too afraid of hurting her to put much force behind it.

“Just another few minutes,” she said, looking up at me pleadingly. “I haven't spent time outside in ages. The sun feels wonderful.”

I dropped back down to my knees. There was no point in arguing with her anymore. “Do you need any help?” I made a face at the tangled bed of weeds. How long had it been since anyone had tended to it?

Her expression brightened considerably at my offer. “I don't need any, but I'd like some. Just start tugging.”

It was dirty work, but together we continued to weed out
the small clearing she'd already managed to create. I didn't want to think about how long she'd been out here. She didn't have the energy to waste on this sort of thing, but when my mother set her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it.

“I'll be back in a few minutes,” said Sofia from the porch, and she ambled inside, closing the door behind her and leaving us alone. I watched my mother out of the corner of my eye as I yanked out a weed that was nearly half as tall as I was. At the first sign of trouble, I was taking her inside.

But she hadn't been this energized and lucid in days. I hadn't told her about what had happened at the party, not wanting to worry her, but with the autumn equinox approaching and James and Ava at odds with each other, I found I wanted to tell her—if not the whole story, then at least something. I'd never kept anything like this from her before, and I wouldn't have many more chances to talk to her about it.

“Mom?” I said hesitantly. “You know Eden Manor?”

“Of course.” The crease in the middle of her forehead deepened as she tugged at a particularly stubborn weed. “What about it?”

I gripped the base of the stem below her fist and helped. After we tugged together, it came loose with a shower of dirt.

“Does someone named Henry live there?”

She straightened, not bothering to try to hide her surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“Because.” I shifted uneasily on the grass, my knees already starting to ache. I knew I should have told her and that she'd want to know, but what if she tried to do something about it? What if I scared her, and it hurt her?

So I lied.

“Some kids at school were talking,” I said, unable to look at
her as guilt gnawed at me. I never lied to her unless I had to. “I just wondered if you knew anything about him.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she reached forward to tuck a loose lock of long hair behind my ear. “If you insist on bringing up difficult subjects, can we at least talk about what's going to happen when I die?”

I was on my feet in an instant, all thoughts of Henry flying out of my head. “It's time to go inside.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I'll go inside when you agree to talk to me.”

“I
am
talking to you,” I said. “Please, Mom. You're going to make yourself worse.”

She smiled humorlessly. “I don't see how. Are you going to talk to me about it or not?”

I closed my eyes, ignoring the sting of tears. This wasn't fair. We still had to have some time left, right? She'd made it this far—surely she could make it a few more months. Christmas, I thought. Just one more Christmas together, and then I could accept saying goodbye. I'd made the same deal for the past four years, and so far, it'd worked.

“I don't want you to miss me,” she said. “You should live your own life, sweetie, and not be weighed down by me anymore, especially once I'm gone.”

My throat felt rough, but I didn't say anything. I didn't know how to live my own life. Even back in New York, she'd been my best friend—my only friend for the past four years. What did she expect me to do, pack up and move on?

“And I want you to fall in love and start your own family, one that'll stick around a lot longer than I did.” She reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “Find someone who'll be good to you and never let him go, all right?”

I felt like I was drowning. “Mom,” I choked, “I don't know how to do any of that.”

She smiled up at me sadly. “No one does, Kate, not at first. But you're ready for this, I promise you. I did everything I could.” For a moment she trailed off and looked at our joined hands. “You
are
ready, and you will be great, sweetheart. You're going to do the impossible, I can feel it, and even if you don't think I'm there with you, I always will be. I'm never going to leave you—remember that, okay? Sometimes it might feel like I'm gone, but I'll always be there when you need me the most.”

I wiped my eyes with my free hand, my grip on her tightening. Something inside of me was crumbling faster than I could glue it back together, and I didn't know what to do anymore. I couldn't imagine life without her in it, and I didn't want to, either. But it was a reality I'd be facing far sooner than I was prepared for. I wanted her, my mother—not a memory.

“Promise me you'll be yourself and do what makes you happy, no matter what,” she said, taking my hand in both of hers. “You're meant for great things, sweetie, but the more you struggle against who you are, the harder it will be. Whatever obstacles you face, remember you can get through anything if you want to badly enough. And you will.” She smiled, and whatever was left standing inside of me broke. “You're so much stronger than you think you are. Do you promise me you'll try to be happy?”

I wanted to tell her that I didn't know how to be happy without her, that I didn't know who I was when she wasn't there, and I wasn't strong enough to do this, but her pleading look was too much for me to take. So I lied a second time.

“Okay,” I mumbled. “I promise.”

Her smile only made me feel guiltier. “Thank you,” she said. “It'll be easier to go when I know you'll be okay.”

I helped her to her feet, not trusting myself to speak. Leaving the uprooted weeds abandoned in the middle of the lawn, I brushed the dirt off her knees and half carried her into the house, wishing with all my might that she never had to go in the first place.

 

The next day, as the teacher droned on about conjugating irregular French verbs, the door to the classroom opened, and Irene from the front office stepped inside. Every head, including mine, turned to stare at her, but the only person she looked at was me.

Feeling as if my insides had turned to liquid, I stood, able to sense James and Ava's stares burning into the back of my head. I stumbled across the length of the classroom, ignoring the whispers that followed.

“Kate,” said Irene in a gentle voice once we were in the hallway and the door to the classroom was closed firmly behind me. “Your mother's nurse called.”

The walls spun around me, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. “Is she dead?”

“No,” said Irene, and relief flooded through me. “She's in the hospital.”

Without another word, I turned around and ran down the hallway, class forgotten. The only thing I wanted was to get to the hospital before it really was goodbye.

 

“Kate?”

It was late in the afternoon, and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital, exhausted. I'd spent the past three hours alone
and flipping through a stack of magazines without reading a word, waiting for the doctors to come tell me how she was.

“James!” I stood on wobbly legs and hugged him as if my life depended on it. It lasted longer than was strictly necessary, but I needed to feel his warm arms wrapped around me. It'd been a long time since I'd hugged someone who wasn't frail. “My mother's sick and they're not telling me—”

“I know,” he said. “Irene told me.”

“What if this is it?” I said, burying my face in his chest. “I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell her I love her.”

“She knows,” he murmured, running his fingers through my hair. “I promise she knows.”

He spent the next few hours with me, only disappearing to get us something to eat, and he was next to me when the doctor finally came and told me what I'd feared: my mother had slipped into a coma, and it wouldn't be long now.

James stayed by my side when I went in to see my mother, who looked so small and fragile lying in the middle of the hospital bed, her body connected to more machines and monitors than I could count. Her skin was ashen, and even if the doctor hadn't told me, I knew she wasn't going to last much longer. Mentally I went over everything that had happened the day before, hating myself more each time I thought about how I'd let her stay out and garden. Maybe if she hadn't exerted herself like that, she'd still be hanging on.

Now, lying there inside that dying body, there was no sign of her. This wasn't how I wanted to remember my mother, as a lifeless shell of who she'd once been, but I couldn't let go.

Shortly before ten, a nurse came in and told me that visiting
hours were over. Several minutes later, when I still couldn't make myself leave, James stepped beside me.

“Kate.” I felt his hand on my back, and I tensed. “The sooner you get some sleep, the sooner you can come back and see her in the morning. Come on, I'll drive you home.”

“It's not home anymore,” I said hollowly, but I allowed him to lead me away.

I stared out the window as he drove my car back to Eden, grateful he didn't try to start a conversation. Even if he had, I wasn't so sure I'd have been able to answer. It wasn't until we sat in my driveway, the engine of the car still running, that James spoke. In the background, a song played so softly on the radio that I had to strain to make it out. I was stalling. I didn't want to go back inside that house. I'd prepared myself for what was coming for years, but now that it was happening, I couldn't stand the thought of being alone.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine,” I lied. James smiled sadly.

“I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“I'm not going to school.”

“I know.” He didn't take his eyes off of me. “I'll take you to the hospital.”

“James…you don't have to do that.”

“Isn't that what friends do?” It hurt to hear the uncertainty in his voice. “You're my friend, Kate, and you're miserable. What could possibly be more important than taking care of you?”

My chin trembled, and it was only a matter of time before the waterworks started. Not knowing what else to do, I leaned over the driver's seat and wrapped my arms around him. I'd never had a friend like him, someone who would've given up
their day to keep me company at my dying mother's bedside. I'd come to Eden expecting to be alone when this was over, and instead I found James. If there was ever a reason to stay in Eden, it was him.

“At least take the car,” I said into his shoulder. “You shouldn't walk home in the dark like this.”

He started to protest, but I pulled back and gave him a look, and he nodded. “Thanks.”

By the time I managed to pry myself away from him and exit the car, I was a tearful, snotty mess, but I didn't care. Next to the sidewalk, I could see the bare patch of dirt in the garden and the pile of weeds still sitting on the lawn.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice carrying from the driveway. I nodded, unable to speak, and waved goodbye to him, using the last of what little strength I had left to force a smile.

I stepped inside, my hands trembling, but I knew there was no point being afraid of an empty house, no matter how strongly my mother's scent lingered. I would be living alone for a very long time.

Wandering listlessly through the halls, I ran my hand across each surface I passed, staring blankly ahead into the darkness. Tonight marked the end of the only chapter in my life I'd ever known, and I didn't know how to live in the emptiness ahead.