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“The phrase ‘firecracker’ was invented solely to describe Sunday Bond,” Ruby says, watching her friend with amusement as she drives away. “I’m thrilled that she’s here, Bean, but sometimes your aunt Sunday acts like a kid who ate too much sugar, and you just need to let her burn it off.”
Athena laughs because it’s a completely apt description of Sunday. “Harlow was sometimes like that when we were kids,” she says, sipping her coffee.
“Yeah?” Ruby turns to look at her daughter, then shifts her gaze to the beach in front of the house. “I never had a sister, so I guess I wouldn’t actually know what it’s like.”
Athena shrugs. “It’s mostly cool—at least it is once everyone is grown up. Being sisters when you’re both kids is a whole other story.”
Ruby takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m glad you and Harlow are such good friends now. That’s important to me, and you two have lived a shared life experience that not many people get to have. When you say your dad was the President of the United States, that’s something that most people can’t fathom—even I can’t. I went into the White House willingly and as an adult, but you two grew up in the spotlight without ever having anyone ask you whether you wanted to or not.” Ruby’s eyes fill with tears.
“Hey, Mom,” Athena says, watching her with a worried look on her face. “It’s okay. Really. Harlow and I are totally fine.” She pauses and makes a face. “I mean, wewillbe fine, but our current circumstances have nothing to do with us being the daughters of Jack and Ruby Hudson. I promise you.”
“That’s not true,” Ruby says, shaking her head emphatically. “I hate the thought that Harlow not only had to live through such a nightmarish experience, but that it was covered every second of the day on the news, with her face splashed all over the story like she was the only or the most important person there in the bar. And I absolutely hate the thought that some guy—some predator—broke your heart and potentially did it just so he could say he slept with Athena Hudson.”
“Mom,” Athena says, stopping her. “It’s all okay. I’ve had lots of time to think since I’ve been here, and, yeah, Diego is an asshole. He used me, but I’m going to tell myself it was just because I was so obviously into him that I was an easy target. No one likes to think of themselves as a glamorous notch on some guy’s belt.”
“You’re right, baby—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Athena laughs softly. “Hey, that’s okay too. Part of being an adult is learning to hear what people have to say, and then deciding what you’re willing to take on and what you’re not. I’m fine knowing thatmaybethat’s the reason Diego targeted me for a one-night stand, but I’m not fine with labeling myself as some sort of prize. I’m just not. So it’s all good, and I’ll keep processing it and getting myself back to where I was.”
Ruby watches her daughter with awe and pride. “You’re such a remarkable young woman, Bean,” she says, swiping away a tear. “And so is your sister. I’m really proud of both of you.”
Ruby stands and walks over to Athena, bending at the waist so that she can plant a kiss on her daughter’s head.
“We’re proud of you too, Mom,” Athena says, smiling softly as Ruby walks back into the house, leaving her there on the deck alone with her coffee.
This time on Shipwreck Key has done more to improve Athena’s mental state post-Diego than any amount of therapy could ever do. Not to detract from Harlow’s need to speak with a therapist—good God, Athena totally supports that and would for anyone who needs it—but being on the quiet island, breathing in the ocean air, and surrounding herself with books in a totally different way than she had at the Library of Congress has all done great things for her. She’s even stopped looking up Diego’s Instagram to see what he’s posted, and she did herself a favor two days ago and blocked both him and his wife on all social media platforms so that she won’t even be tempted to check up on their lives. Because really, who cares? It’s not her life, and Diego’s actions don’t define her unless she lets them.And she won’t.
In a final display of self-worth and strength, Athena picks up her phone from where she’s set it on the arm of the deck chair and opens up her text chain with Diego. There’s not much there beyond his message that she’d haltingly answered with a series of hurt questions and angry retorts, but she opens it anyway and reads everything one last time. Unfortunately, Diego will always be the first person she slept with, but he won’t be the man who got under her skin and ruined things for the next guy she meets.
Athena’s thumb hovers over the screen for a minute, but then she taps it a few times, effectively blocking Diego’s number. After she does that, she gives their shared messages one determined swipe, deleting them from her phone forever.
Just like Sunday leaving Peter in D.C., or her mom letting Etienne and Julien into the bookstore so that she can start to say goodbye to the mystery and shame that surround her own marriage, Athena wants to embrace the power of womanhood and let go of the things that hurt her.
And Shipwreck Key is turning out to be the perfect place to do just that.
Ruby
“You haven’t read this?”
“I have not read this,” Ruby says, shaking her head and holding the envelope from Jack in her hand.
Nearly three weeks have passed since Etienne showed up during Pirate Days, and Ruby has kept herself as busy as possible, waiting for this moment right here.
“And you want to read it with me?” Dexter North asks, looking surprised. They’re on a boat together, somewhere between Shipwreck Key and Destin, and Dexter has cut the motor so that they’re drifting in the middle of nowhere, with no spectators, no paparazzi, and no ears to hear them. The boat bobs in the water as they stare at one another in anticipation.
“I think I do.” As soon as she’d gone through all the emotions that Etienne’s visit had stirred up, Ruby had a vision about how she wanted this to go down. After all the dreams she’s had about being on a boat with Jack, it only seems appropriate to her that she hear his final words—even if they are written ones—here on a boat.
“Let’s talk about the pros and cons of us reading this letter together,” Dexter says. It’s obvious to Ruby that he wants nothing more than to read the final words from the President to his wife right alongside her, both as a curious human being and as the author of the biography he’s working on, but Dexter North has proven himself to be a stand-up guy, along with being a stellar author, so he waits patiently to be convinced that this is truly what Ruby wants.
“Well,” Ruby says, sitting back so that she’s leaning against the side of the boat. Now that it’s three o’clock, the sun has crested and is moving lower in the sky, but it’s still summer in Florida, so even the breeze off the water doesn’t entirely erase the humidity that hangs in the air around them. Ruby pulls her tank top away from her body and lets it snap back against her skin as she tries to get a little wind on her body. “The cons of reading this personal letter with anyone else are that I’m sharing something private and hurtful. I’m also opening myself up to the possibility that you won’t honor your journalistic integrity and that you might share the information in an unauthorized way.” Dexter looks back at her, his face blank; he is wise enough to listen to her concerns and not be offended.
“And the pros?” he prompts, leaning back on his side of the boat and folding his arms. A bigger wave sneaks up on them, lifting the boat and rocking it a few times as it rolls past.
Ruby considers this. She could have read the letter alone, which she’s sure is what Jack would have wanted. She could have read it with her girls, hoping to give them some much-needed insight into their father’s life and death. She could have refused to read it altogether (but she’s not superhuman, and who could actually do that?) Instead, she wants to read it with the man who is going to document her husband through her eyes.
“The pros are that you get to be present—as a biographer—for a truly authentic moment. You’re also relatively impartial to my marriage, and I think it’s safer to read the letter with a man who might be able to offer a male perspective, should it be warranted, rather than with a female friend, who will jump to my defense regardless of what the letter says.”
“You’re thinking of Sunday Bond?” Dexter asks, lifting one eyebrow from behind his Ray-Bans.
