Athena's Daughter

Juli Page Morgan’s rock star romance
Athena's Daughter hustles you to a time when love consumed your
entire life and music meant everything. A beautiful story of lost
love that returns.—
Debra Kayn, Hard Body novel series, Grand
Central Publishing

The characters are so alive they leap off
the page as they unravel secrets and find forgiveness on their
way to happily-ever-after
. – Rachel Cross, author of
Rock
Her

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Also by Juli Page Morgan

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Athena’s Daughter wouldn’t be here without
the help and support of these amazing, wonderful people:

The Book Pimps – Debi Matlack, Stephanie
Hussey and Missy Katano, the best critique group in the Whole.
Wide. World! Not only do they help me whip my books into the best
shape they could possibly be, they are all such incredible friends
and instinctively know when I need pictures of Jimmy Page and
Johnny Depp for inspiration. Yeah, that’s it – inspiration!

Photographer Chelle Morgan, stylist Katie
Christian, and models Erica Hare, Tyler Livingston and sweet little
Cadence for rocking the cover of Athena’s Daughter. They have my
undying gratitude for doing the most super job imaginable even when
our original photo shoot location was overrun with toddlers and we
had to find a different park, and it was overrun with poison
ivy!

My sister-in-law Susan, for letting us use
her guitar for the photo shoot.

Jason Horton, my cover designer with mad
editing skills who took my vision of what I wanted the cover of
this book to be, rocked it out, and made it better than I could
have ever imagined.

Christopher L Webster, musician
extraordinaire and dear friend, for letting me use the lyrics to
his song, “Remembrance of Things Past,” and for just being so
wonderful all the time. And if you want to hear what the song
really sounds like, go to the website of his band,
Mr.
Happy!

Sherry Thrasher Cunningham, my friend, my
cheerleader, my Queen, for her enthusiasm and support, emergency
supplies of chips and French onion dip, and her amazing ability for
choosing Extreme Balloons!

Authors Debra Kayn, Deborah O’Neill Cordes,
Liv Rancourt, Traci Douglass, Rachel Cross and Terri Herman-Ponce
whose talent and enthusiasm are a constant source of
inspiration.

My brothers Alan and Matthew, and my sister
Sandra, the best siblings in the world!

My daughters Laurel and Chelle, and my
son-in-law Sean for their support and love, and for well-timed
phone calls and excellent advice.

My husband Phillip. I love you!

Memphis, Tennessee, April 4, 1975

Dithering over what to wear to work wasn’t
something Athena Chandler did on a regular basis. Despite being the
manager of Stax of Wax record shop, the most dressed up she ever
got was jeans and a T-shirt. After all, no one was looking for a
pencil skirt and sensible heels in a store decorated with
psychedelic black light posters. However, the following day was
going to be an emotional roller coaster, and she’d feel a lot
better if she looked great. She’d settle for looking presentable
and not throwing up.

As she stood in front of her closet hoping
something cool and sexy would materialize from the meager selection
of garments, the patter of small footsteps sounded in the hallway
outside her bedroom. She turned with a smile as her six-year-old
daughter barreled through the door and threw herself on Athena’s
bed with the enthusiasm of a cliff diver.

Hands on hips, Athena fixed the little girl
with a stern look. “Elizabeth, I’ve asked you not to hurl yourself
on the furniture, remember?” She didn’t know where the child had
picked up the habit, but the springs in their mismatched collection
of second-hand furniture wouldn’t hold out for long under that sort
of treatment, and there was no way Athena’s salary would stretch to
cover replacements.

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Elizabeth rolled over and
gave her mother a sad, puppy-dog look from eyes that were such an
incredible shade of blue that strangers would stop on the street to
comment on them. “I forgot.”

“Well, you’re going to have to remember,
okay? It’s not good for the furniture.” She abandoned her perusal
of the closet; there wasn’t anything in there that hadn’t been worn
to death already, and she was just going to have to make the best
of it. “Ready for me to braid your hair?”

“I don’t wanna braid my hair.” Elizabeth’s
mouth turned down in a pout. “I’m tired of braids.”

Unmoved by this familiar refrain, Athena
picked up the hairbrush from the dresser. “Doesn’t matter. If you
sleep on it while it’s down, it’ll be so tangled in the morning we
can’t brush it. And you know Aunt Andi will braid it anyway when
you get to her house.”

She repressed a grin at Elizabeth’s
long-suffering sigh and sat down on the bed. The little girl
scooted closer and turned her back so her mother could complete
their nightly ritual.

As Athena smoothed the tangles from
Elizabeth’s hair, still a bit damp from her earlier bath, she
marveled again at how beautiful it was. Dark brown as a strong cup
of coffee and with glints of auburn when the light stuck it, it
hung in soft waves down Elizabeth’s back. It was so different from
Athena’s own sandy-blonde hair with its curls and tendency to
frizz. Her daughter had been fortunate to get her father’s hair,
along with those startling eyes.

Just thinking of Elizabeth’s father made
Athena’s heart jump up into her throat and her stomach roil with
nerves. She took a deep breath to settle herself as her hands moved
automatically in her daughter’s hair, parting it in three
strands.

It had been seven years since she’d seen him,
but she was reminded of him every day when she looked at her
daughter’s face. Elizabeth was so much like him, even having that
same half-smile he charmed people with. It wasn’t just her looks,
either; she resembled him in temperament more than she did her
mother, a fact for which Athena was grateful. That calm acceptance
and ability to remain unruffled in the face of adversity would
serve Elizabeth well. The little girl was the only one in her
first-grade class who had a divorced mother, and already there had
been questions about Elizabeth’s father from teachers and other
parents, some of which Elizabeth overheard.

Instead of having a full-fledged meltdown,
Elizabeth calmly asked why her mother wasn’t married, and listened
with quiet attention as Athena stumbled through an abbreviated
explanation about divorce that a child could understand. After
digesting the information, all Elizabeth asked for was a photo of
Steve to keep in her bedroom, and Athena managed to find one.
Cameras hadn’t been numerous at the New Mexico commune where she
and Steve had married, but someone produced one that day and,
wonder of wonders, even had the film developed. Otherwise, Athena
wouldn’t have had any photos of her ex-husband at all.

As she worked the strands of Elizabeth’s hair
into a long, tight braid, Athena shook her head at the memory of
that picture. Her pregnancy had just begun to show, but in the
photo she could pass for a young woman carrying a tad too much
weight. It was a great likeness of Steve, though, with his goofy,
zoned-out grin, long tangled hair and full beard. Athena knew
Elizabeth told it goodnight before she went to bed each evening,
and felt a pang of, not regret, but maybe remorse. The marriage
ended up a disaster and Steve bugged out when Elizabeth was only
two months old. But when Athena saw her daughter telling a photo
goodnight, she couldn’t help but think that maybe she should have
tried harder to keep Steve around.

But no; he’d never been the kind of man who
would be happy with a wife and child. He was too free-spirited –
Athena’s mother called it irresponsible, and she was inclined to
agree with her – to remain tied down for very long. Better that
Elizabeth have no memory of him at all than to grow up with the
sounds of frequent arguments punctuated with cold, angry
silences.

“There you go.” She patted Elizabeth’s head.
“All done.”

Elizabeth twisted around to look at her with
hope. “Can I watch TV?”

“What do you think?”

The little girl’s face fell flat. “It’s
bedtime,” she sighed.

“Yep. Come on.” Athena stood and held out her
hand. “For me, too. I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I want to make
sure I get enough rest.”

As she’d hoped, Elizabeth was distracted by
the turn in the conversation and slipped her hand in Athena’s.
“What kind of big day do you have?”

“A band is coming to the store to sign copies
of their records, and since they’re a popular group there’ll be
lots of people there.”

“What band is it?” Elizabeth swung their
linked hands between them as they walked down the hall to her
bedroom. Because of the records Athena brought home from work and
the fact that they listened to the radio both at home and in the
car, Elizabeth was as well-versed as her mother on the popular
music of the day.