“Don’t go.” I reached for him, but he was already too far away. “Please, brother—”
“Don’t call me that,” he hissed, turning into the night. “You are no sister of mine.”
***
The next morning, I woke to the sound of laughter filtering throughthe walls.
When I had returned to the handmaids’ chamber the previous night, they had all been fast asleep. But now the room was empty, their beds made.
I lingered in the doorway to Penelope’s central living quarters. The handmaids were gathered around the large table, enjoying their breakfast. Thratta was telling a story with dramatic gestures while Hippodamia dished out food. Something Thratta said had them all in fits of laughter, and I smiled as the sound washed over me like a sunbaked stream.
Eurynome spotted me first. “Come join us, Melantho.”
For a moment, I hesitated, familiar excuses crowding on my tongue, but then my eyes drifted to Hippodamia, and her words from the other night flickered inside me.
Whoever it is you’ve lost, don’t you think they would want you to be happy too?
Drawing in a breath, I approached and silently sat down beside Autonoë, who was fussing over a snoozing Telemachus. Hippodamia immediately moved to fill my plate while Thratta continued her story. As I gazed around the table, I was met with the strange sensation of…fullness.
“Penelope, there you are! We were wondering where you had gotten to,” Hippodamia called out.
“I apologize for my absence this morning. I needed to—”
Penelope froze midstep, her gaze pouring into mine.
“Is everything all right?” Hippodamia prompted.
Penelope’s smile was like dawn, slow to appear at first, then flashing all at once, its beauty setting the world alight.
“Yes,” she breathed, eyes never leaving mine. “Everything is wonderful.”
“Will you come join us?” Autonoë offered.
As she came to sit beside me, I couldn’t help but share Penelope’s smile, the edges stretching giddily wide.
“You’re here,” she whispered.
I was surprised by the emotion cradling her lovely face. But then I remembered all the people in Penelope’s life who werenothere, who had left her behind, either willingly or not—her mother, father, sister, husband…
Was I the first who had stayed?
I couldn’t think what to say, so instead I reached out and squeezed her hand.
When I went to pull away, Penelope laced her fingers through mine, holding tight. She smiled, softer this time, and I felt a warmth blossoming inside me, one that had nestled into my heart long, long ago, its golden roots woven through my very core.
Something hard bounced off the side of my head and fell into my lap.
“You’re not listening to my story,” Thratta said, throwing an olive at me. It hit my nose.
There was a brief pause, then Hippodamia broke into peals of laughter, the sound so shrill it had the others joining in, even Penelope. I felt my own laughter bubbling inside me, tentative at first, then bursting forth so forcefully I could scarcely catch my breath.
Within that bright, infectious sound, I heard my mother whisper,All I want is for you to be happy, my heart.
And I realized, for the first time since I’d lost her, that I wanted it too.
Part II
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