Chapter Thirty-five

**SASHA**

I had been surprised by the phone call from Oliver, I had thought that he was calling to tell me he had forgiven me, or that he missed me. In the few seconds it had taken me to answer the phone, my mind had run agog with scenarios of what he could want, but not in my wildest imaginations would I have guessed that he wanted to know about Sasha, or that Sasha had mysteriously shown up on his doorstep.
The last time I had seen Sasha and Joshua was ten years ago, when my heart could no longer bear being apart from the only man I had ever loved, and the fruit of our love. I hated that circumstance that had dealt us such cruel hands. I had left New York without informing Ryan, and it angered me greatly to see just how much of my life I had given that man, and how he had thrown it all away. I blamed my mother, she had forced me, pushed me to marry him even though he was in love with someone else, and my father who had made a pact with his father before he died.
I smiled wryly as I remembered the time I had spent with Joshua, I remembered how he had worshipped me, how he had loved me. I wrangled my hands together at the thought of meeting my two living children, and tears gathered in my eyes. Oliver still hasn’t forgiven me for the death of Jamie, even though I wasn’t sure what role I played in it. Sasha most likely hated me and wanted my head served to her on a platter. I wondered if Joshua was with her, Oliver hadn’t mentioned. I subconsciously ran my hand through my blond hair, smiling wistfully at the gray at my temples, and the wrinkles that now graced my forehead.
The driver drove slowly through a small town, and I smiled as I watched the curious children stare at the large SUV. This place -Gabriel’s pack, Oliver had called it- had an ambiance to it that brought some sort of strange peace. I rolled down the windows and took a deep breath, smiling as I felt a strange connection to this place. The car finally rolled to a stop in front of a quaint home, and in front of it stood Oliver. He hasn’t changed much, my Oliver. Only, his eyes had a sunken expression to them; an expression of someone who carried the world on his shoulders.
“Hey, mom…” he said, and pulled me into a hug.
“Hi,” I replied, “You look…tired.”
Oliver chuckled. “I feel tired,” he looked behind me at the car still parked in front of the house. “Your driver?”
“Yes, but he won’t be here. He’ll return to his hotel until I’m to leave.”
Oliver nodded and picked up my box. “Come in.”
The interior was cozy. Small, and decorated with artwork, some of which I recognized to be Oliver’s.
“This is cozy…” I said as I settled into the sofa.
Oliver smiled and nodded, genuine joy in his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
“You love it here, don’t you?”
His smile widened. “Yes, I do. Gabriel is amazing, and the people here love me.”
I nodded. “When do you plan to return to New York?”
As soon as the question left my lips, I wished I could turn back the hands of the clock and take it back. His smile fell and the light left his eyes.
“Umm…I haven’t given much thought to returning,” he said. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’m going to.”
“I understand. You have a lot going for you here, besides you can run your gallery from here anyways.”
Oliver exhaled, and he smiled. At that moment, we were on the same page, we were mother and son.
“So…about Sasha…”
“You want to see her now?” Oliver asked.
I wrangled my hands together. “I don’t think she’ll want to see me just yet.”
“Is that what you think or you’re just not ready to see her?”
My breath caught in my throat, and I sighed. “Maybe…”
Oliver sank into the sofa across from me and crossed his legs. We both sat there, stewing in our thoughts, a lot needing to be said but words being too heavy to express tears of pain and anger. I took a deep breath, now was the time. I needed to stop running.
“About Jamie…”
“No,” Oliver said firmly and uncrossed his legs. “I don’t want to talk about him!”
“But we have to. He’s the reason you hate me…”
“I don’t hate you…” he replied softly.
“But you blame me for his death. Somehow, you think it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t?” He asked, tears gathering in his eyes.
Tears stung behind my eyes and k blinked them back. “I didn’t kill Jamie, Oliver. I don’t know what it was you were expecting me to do!!”
“But you knew about the goddess, didn’t you?”
“She flows from my bloodline, of course, I know about her…”
“And you never told Jamie or me about what she was capable of?”
“What could you have done?! She takes what she wants!! Jamie never stood a chance, he was doomed from the start.”
“If he had known more about the goddess, he would have taken on the role of her priest…”
“He knew,” I answered firmly, tired of beating about the bush.
“What?”
“You’re not going to like what I’m going to say next, Oliver.”
He scoffed. “I’ve not liked anything you’ve said to me for the last five minutes, I’ll live.”
His words stung, but I brushed it away. “I can sense her in you, that means you know a lot about her now,” I said and took a deep breath. “That means you know about how she demands one child as a sacrifice and one child as a priest?”
Oliver nodded. “Yes.”
“The river goddess chooses the child she wants, Oliver. She had chosen Jamie to be her priest,” I closed my eyes against the pain as the memories came flooding back. “That meant only one thing…”
“That I was to be the sacrifice.”
I nodded. “Jamie didn’t like that, you see. He loved you, he loved you very much. He fought hard, he read books, traveled wide to find a way…a solution, but there was none.”
“You’re telling me he sacrificed himself?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t want it to be you…”
I could see the anger, pain, and disbelief warring in his eyes, and I hated myself a little bit more that there was nothing I could do to stop it…to help. Suddenly, it felt like Jamie all over again.
“But…but you followed him to the water, you sacrificed him!!!”
“No, Oliver. I didn’t.”
“You were with him when he drowned!!”
“He…he didn’t want to be alone at the end…”
Oliver had such bright, expressive blue eyes…just like Jamie, and in them I could see the exact moment when disbelief and denial gave way to unadulterated pain. I watched as he broke down and the tears flowed freely, and in that moment, I hated the goddess even more. She had brought more pain to me than happiness.
“I’m sorry…” I said, even though a thousand apologies wouldn’t have done any good.
I stood and crossed the short distance between us, and took Oliver into my arms, holding him tight to my chest as we both let out our sorrows in tears. Years of pent-up anger, anguish, and misunderstanding, all lead up to this one painful moment.
An hour later, we both sat on the same sofa, smiling at each other, seeing each other in a new light, and holding hands, a new solidarity formed. And then I remembered.
“Jamie wanted me to give you something,” I said and reached for my box that Oliver had kept next to the sofa.
“What is it?” He asked.
I pulled out an envelope and a jewelry box and handed it over to him. “In his travels and research, he found that the goddess has been trying to make a comeback to the mortal world.”
“What? How?”
“She takes control of her priest or priestess’s body, slowly but surely. And then after a while, there would be very little left of you and more of her. Now, your first daughter would have your DNA but would be her in spirit and soul.”
Oliver’s breath caught in his throat and for a few seconds, he stared blankly into space.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Fuck…that makes sense now.”
“What does?”
“She’s already begun her plan,” Oliver replied. “As each day goes by, I feel myself slipping more and more into the back of my mind.”
“You have to fight her off as much as you can…”
“Is there no solution to this?” Oliver asked.
“You could have a child before she completely takes over.”
“How does that stop her?” Oliver asked, confused.
“It doesn’t. It just pushes her game plan to another generation.”
“What?!”
“She needs to completely take over you, and then use your body to procreate. If you do it yourself before she completely takes over, you ruin her plan. She stops trying to take over you, and focuses on your children.”
“Are you saying that you were her priestess?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, no. My mother had three daughters. I’m the last child. The sacrificial child died, my eldest sister was the priestess, but she killed herself before the goddess could claim her completely, and then the mantle fell to my children. And, here we are…”
“This is preposterous…”
“Open the jewelry box,” I instructed and watched as Oliver extracted a necklace with a glass pendant with ashes in it. “That’s some of Jamie’s ashes in there…”
“What do you mean? He was buried in a casket.”
“Well, yes. A part of him was. He insisted he wanted his hands and feet cremated.”
“What is this supposed to do?”
“Remind you of yourself every time she tries to take another part of you.”