Chosen (24 page)

             
My hands shook with each picture I investigated, but the one that tilted my world upside down was the one of the happy couple; smiling and posing with their newborn child.  My mom and a handsome dark-haired man with kind gray eyes at her side.

             
With legs of rubber, I moved toward the bed and caught sight of the picture frame he was clutching in his hands.  It was a photo of a woman.  But not just any woman - she was my mother.  As my hands trembled uncontrollably, the pictures slipped out of my hands and hit the floor with a loud thump.  I saw a large conch shell - just like the one I had in my valise - on the nightstand, right before the old man’s eyes opened and he sat up in alarm.

             
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” I was yelling before I even opened my eyes.  I bolted upright and balked at Finn with disappointment.

             
“Tell you what?” he stared at me; dumbfounded.

             
“Why didn’t you tell me who Peleus was!?” I yelled again; tears springing up in my eyes. 

             
“The old man?” He fought to grasp my arms as I darted around his attempt; escaping towards the door. “I have no idea who he is - all I know is his name!  Stasia, wait!  Don’t let her out!”

             
I thought that I might actually succeed at breaking out, until the two guards of doom pivoted inward and blocked my path.  I tried to plow through them, but only succeeded in hurting my hand.  Instead, I diffused my displeasure back on Finn.

             
“You should have told me, Finn,” I fumed.

             
“I promise you.” He put up his hands in surrender. “If I knew who he was, you would have been the first I’d tell.”  I searched his eyes and realized that he was completely in the dark, just as I had been all of five minutes ago.  I let out my breath and met Willow’s concerned gaze.

             
“Did you know, Willow?” I asked breathlessly, my tone losing its potency.

             
“Of course not,” she answered sincerely. “What happened?  What did you see?”

             
“I went to Natasha’s.” I expounded upon my reverie. “I was in his room.  I saw pictures and a frame he was holding.  It was a picture of my mother.” Everyone’s eyes brightened to white saucers at the same moment. “He’s my father.”

             
“Are you sure?” Phoebe squeaked.

             
“There were pictures of him and Mom holding a newborn baby.” I collapsed back down onto the couch as the gravity of what I had just uncovered hit me with full force. “It has to be him.”

             
“I thought your father perished long ago?” Zara questioned carefully. “Even before your mother.”

             
“When I saw her in the Underworld…she told me he was still alive.  I wasn’t sure if I really believed her or not.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I thought it could be a possibility that he was a grandfather or great uncle, but my father?” I shook my head in disbelief.

             
“Maybe if you shave off the beard, he would look younger?” Phoebe tried.  I latched onto Finn’s forearm as I remembered something.

             
“Your mom knew him before,” I concluded, “She has to be aware of his identity, right?”

             
“We’re about to find out.” He pulled out his phone and quickly had her on the other end.  After the shortest conversation in history he regarded us with satisfaction. “They’ll be here soon.”

             
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling around in my head.  I had so many questions.  Why was he imprisoned with other descendents if he was human?  If he had recognized me, why didn’t he tell me himself?  Why had my mother led everyone to believe that he had been killed?  Nothing made sense.

             
Not two minutes later , the sound of voices could be heard outside.  Natasha made her entrance, followed closely by the old man.  Peleus.  My father.  The deep lines of his face reflected how weary his body was, but now he appeared much healthier and stable than the last time I had seen him; limp and unconscious at the hands of Selene.

             
“Why don’t the rest of us make our way to the main house, so they can have some privacy,” Zara offered, in lieu of everyone hovering over our already-awkward encounter.  A shadow of insecurity and something close to raw terror fell over me at the thought of being alone with him.  Finn gave me a hug and bent down to whisper in my ear.

             
“I’ll be right up the path.  I love you,” he reassured me.

             
“I love you, too,” I breathed, touched by his knack for always knowing exactly what I needed to hear.  Once Zara had ushered everyone out the door, I stood slowly and gaped at the man on my doorstep. 

             
“Would you like to sit down?” I offered cordially; my voice coming out robotic and forced. “Something to drink?”

             
“That would be wonderful,” he smiled appreciatively at me.  While he made himself comfortable on the couch, I poured him a glass of ice water. “I saw you.”

             
I almost dropped the glass of water, but thankfully collected myself, handed it to him and sat down opposite him on the other couch. I met his gray eyes sheepishly. “I…I wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything.  I was just…curious.”

             
“It’s quite alright, Anastasia,” he chuckled.  He somehow fit a lifetime of love and devotion within the nine letters that made up my true first name.

             
“Say it again,” I requested timidly, before I could stop myself. “My…name.”

             
“Anastasia,” he repeated, with a slight questioning lift at the end.  I searched his face and felt a shyness wash over me.

             
“You’re my father,” I stated simply.

             
“I am,” he answered just as simply. A wide grin swept across his face and the corners of his gray eyes crinkled.  His gray eyes focused on mine as he continued, “I was imprisoned for almost seventeen years.  I went to sleep each night thinking about you.  I woke up every morning thinking about you.  Every storm, every sunny day, and every starry night I thought about you.  When I missed your mother so much it hurt, I thought about you and the beautiful young woman you would have grown up to be.  When I could find nothing else good in this world, I thought about you.  Each line I scratched on that stone wall marked the days until I would see you again.” His eyes dropped and I caught him wiping away a tear.  He met my eyes once more. “My baby girl.  You are the spitting image of your mother, with the strength and fortitude of a hundred men.  I know I can never get back the time we’ve lost, but…I would be honored to get the opportunity to try during the time we have left.  I am getting old in years… I cannot promise just how long that will be.”

             
“I met Mom,” I revealed; my voice only coming out as a whisper.  They were the only three words I could convince to form on my lips.  His words had been so overwhelming and heartfelt, I wasn’t sure that I’d had enough time to process them sufficiently.  His compassionate smile told me he understood.

             
“She told me,” he answered, somewhat embarrassed. “She visits me...in my dreams.”

             
“I met her in the Underworld.  She was…well…everything I’d hoped she would be.”

             
“That does not surprise me at all.  She was a magnificent woman, and an even more amazing leader.  I can already tell that you take after her.” He touched his gray hair and scowled overdramatically, “Which is probably a good thing.”

             
A nervous laughter escaped my lips, but it was quickly silenced when he stood and walked around to take a seat directly beside me.  He took my small hands in his much larger, calloused ones.  “I need to make sure you know, that although we were unable to be in your life, we love you endlessly.  We wanted keep you safe.  We wanted to give you…a chance.”

             
“For years I just thought I was unwanted; a discarded burden that was un-loveable.  I couldn’t understand what I had done to deserve that kind of fate.” I contemplated our hands, as his face crumbled at my pain and stifled a sob. “But over the last couple of months, everything’s changed.  An entirely new world has opened up to me, and I’ve finally been able to learn who I really am, where I belong, and where I came from.  As hard as my life was and as much as I had to go through, I came out on the other side stronger and more determined.  And I know now, that I was wrong.” I met his eyes again.

             
“Every day I asked myself if we did the right thing by sending you away,” he divulged. “Every day I lived that last day over and over in my head.  The way you reached for me.  The way you seemed to look right through to my soul.  The same way you are looking at me now.  But when I look at you now, sitting here beside me, I know for certain that it was never our choice in the first place.  We were only the beginning of your story.  The rest has been carved out by your own strength and will, leaving the goddess I see before me.”

             
Tears filled with years of desolation streamed down my face; making way for the steel threads of a father’s love to mend some of the holes in my heart.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me in his arms for a long time.  The same arms that had dropped me off so many years ago had finally returned to pick me back up.  The conch shell in his room suddenly flashed in my memory. I pulled the conch shell Mom had given me out of the valise and held it up to him.

             
“The conch shell?” I asked. “I noticed that you had one in your room.  Are they significant?”

             
“Quite,” he grinned from ear to ear. “They are enchanted.”

             
“The last time I held it up to my ear I could hear something in it. Somebody mumbling?  Is it…alive?” I flipped it over in my hands curiously, but he chuckled at my hypothesis.

             
“It is a portal for sounds,” he explained. “Your mother came up with it before there were phones that you could carry around with you.  When she was away, sometimes for months at a time with her duties, it would become excruciating for us to be away from each other that long.  So she found these two shells and enchanted them.  They each can hear the goings-on wherever the other resides.  We could speak to each other. I could…hear her breathing as she slept.  While in prison, I used it to mark the days on my wall.” His eyes dropped and I could tell that he was fighting back tears.

             
“That’s amazing.” I marveled at the bulky shell in my hands.

             
“I knew you wouldn’t find it until you came back, and even then you wouldn’t know what to do with it – but I always listened for you. Just in case.  For years there was only silence.  Then one day I could hear something.  It was only voices in the background, but it gave me hope.”

             
“All this time I could have communicated with you, and I didn’t even realize it!” I charged.

             
“Conch shells don’t usually double for telephones, so it’s quite understandable.”

             
“Well that’s true,” I giggled, and a thought popped in my head. “Natasha knew who you were when we found you on the Isle of Slaves, didn’t she?”

             
“She did, but until then she was unaware that I was still alive.”

             
“Then why didn’t she tell me when you returned from Cyprus?”

             
“She is a loyal and trusted friend, indeed.  She meant a lot to your mother as well.  I instructed her not to say anything to you or Finn.  I couldn’t allow my presence to hinder your training.  You are my main concern.  You and only you.” The fact that he was only worried about my well-being after being in prison for the last sixteen years while I had been free tugged at my heart strings.

             
“Why were you in that prison?” I questioned him carefully. “Did you commit a crime?”

             
“The only crime I ever committed was loving your mother.”

             
“That was a crime?”  If that was the case, I was in trouble.

             
“In some people’s eyes, yes.  It is a betrayal of sorts.” Nadia’s words echoed in my mind and I stiffened. 

             
“What…kind of betrayal?” I pressed further.  He took a deep breath and his face aged at least another ten years before he answered.

             
“I am human now, but I was not always human,” he delineated ominously. “I was once a part of this world.  I was an Aura.  I was a descendent of Selene, the Moon goddess whom you had the pleasure of meeting on the Isle of Slaves,” he explained with a touch of sarcasm.

             
“An Aura?  Selene…?” I pictured the group of Auras we had seen at the restaurant in Paphos - their silver eyes, pale skin, and dark hair.  I tried to reconcile the fact that my father was a descendent of the tainted goddess that I had seen rip the souls out of hostages.  The same one who had tried to kill me. “But if you were her descendent, why were you imprisoned?  Why did she treat you so poorly?”

             
“Auras are very strict in their rule against mating with other Orders.  They believe their bloodline to be the purest and the truest.  Any mixing of essence would compromise that purity.” I watched as storm clouds gathered in his already gray eyes. 

             
“And Mom wasn’t an Aura,” I deduced sadly.