Zeus (The God Chronicles #1)

Chapter Seventeen

 I got up early the next morning to help Mom cook, as was tradition. For as long as I could remember, we made pies first—the day before and the morning of—then prepared the turkey and put it in the oven, worked on all of the dips for crackers and vegetables, and finished with the non-pie desserts. It was a lot of work, but definitely worth it. Throughout the day, extended family members would show up and help, women for the most part.

I left my old room and tiptoed down the hall, passing the door to Zeus's. Thankfully, he hadn't made any jokes about sleeping in the same bed last night. It was weird to have him sleeping down the hall in my parent's house. So far they seemed to like him well enough, but they hadn't really talked much.

We arrived in time for dinner the day before. There wasn't a whole lot of conversation at the table. Mom was a good cook—people usually preferred stuffing their faces over talking.

I could tell from Dad's face he wanted to give Zeus "the talk." I wasn't exactly sure what it entailed, but every boy who'd ever taken me out had received it. A lot of them never asked me out again. They usually came out of "the talk" looking a little sick. I didn't know if Dad was threatening them or grossing them out with personal things about me, like potty training stories.

Mom, on the other hand, looked like she was about to burst from all the things she wanted to say. It wasn't her style to interrupt dinner, though, so she'd remained silent. Cleaning up afterward had kept her from chatting as well, and even with our offer to help, she'd refused. He tried to help her anyway but got chased out with a soapy spatula. I already knew better.

I smiled at the feel of the shag carpet under my feet. I didn't think I'd missed home at all, but now that I was here, I realized I had been homesick. Everything looked older because, frankly, the house was older. The avocado green carpet matched the brown wood paneling on the walls, but it felt warm and cozy. All the furniture was a matching floral orange and the kitchen had decorative plates hanging on the walls. I didn't think much had changed since they bought it in the late seventies, but I still loved it.

The smell of fresh pies beckoned me to the kitchen. Early as it was, Mom had definitely already been up and working. I made my way through the living and dining rooms and past the open kitchen door. The tile felt cool on my feet, but the air was hot.

Mom had donned her apron again, over her jeans and special Thanksgiving sweater she wore every year. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbow, her arms covered in flour. She paused in her task of rolling out pie crust. Using her elbow, she tried to brush a light-brown strand of hair out of her face. She had pulled it back into a low ponytail, but it her work was making it come undone. I smiled as I stood just inside the door, listening to her hum as she worked.

Like Dad, she hadn't wanted me to move. After my first visit to the Strip, I understood what they were afraid of. Zeus was right; they had only been trying to take care of me. Mom had given her permission for me to go first. I'd talked with her about it a little and she, in turn, helped Dad come around to the idea.

As I thought about Zeus's uncle, and what a horrible man he seemed to be, gratitude for my loving parents filled my heart.

"Morning Mom," I said, announcing my presence.

She jumped, dropping her rolling pin and spinning around. I laughed at the shocked look that was peeking out from under the flour on her face.

"Karly, you startled me! I'm not used to having people up and about yet, anymore."

"Sorry," I said, still laughing.

"What's so funny?" She was so clueless sometimes.

"Mom, there's flour all over your face."